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2demondogs · 26 days ago

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Can you do Arthur and BioKid!reader (prob age around 5-7) where Arthur sent his kid to school (around 1870, school began to become free) because even if he knows he could teach his kid the basics, he wants better for them.

As we know, schools back then did physical punishments. If a kid lacked behind their fellow students, teachers often saw it as laziness and would punish the kid.

Arthurs kid, who was very excited to attend school, came back from it sobbing their eyes out because they were canned (hit) on their hands for not understanding math and begging that Arthur doesn't send them back.

Obv Arthur, being an amazing dad, doesn't send them back and taught them stuff himself.

Weirdly enough I had a very similar experience at that age but in ballet class. Are any of us okay?

Historical accuracy was attempted. Though the image of being dropped off at school on a horse is absolutely hilarious to me. "Okay little buddy here's a cigarette for lunch, I'll clip clop back at 4. Daddy's gonna go rob a bank now. Hyah!!"

Arthur's a cigarette mom tbh. Also this took literally like 2 months for me to get to I'm so sorry LOL I wanted some familial comfort so I was finally in the headspace for it.

Words: 3k Tags: AU - canon divergence, pre-canon (circa 1888), hurt/comfort, it takes a village so the gang's all here too, angst but also a lotta fluff Arthur is just being Arthur (aka a killjoy), gender-neutral reader

Few things in his life have brought Arthur as much pride — in someone else, in himself — as the grin plastered on your face the first day of school.

Boadicea disliked the amount of people, the small kids that tried to stroke her legs before being beckoned away by their parents. Most were used to animals like her, but he could tell the city-bred ones from his own kind: brighter faces, slower walks, cleaner nails. It's the same as their parents, dressed well and sometimes in automobiles.

What an odd gathering these schoolrooms make for. He's always thought it'd be funny to have punted John in the direction of one, but he finds he's had a wrong idea about the crowd. Wouldn't have been as satisfying as he imagined when the man was just a boy, wily and jaded and just like all the other farm kids that he saw trudge in and out yesterday. (Of course, when John showed curiosity about it and asked him what the crowd was like, he told him he was far too stupid to dream of going to school. He is a father, but he ain't John's.)

In another life, he might even stick around to converse with the other parents. He'd pondered it that first day, feeding Boadicea an apple for the trip from camp some miles off and to this building on the edge of town. Arthur wondered if he had had you ten years later, and if he were not so much younger than all these parents, and if you were not so—

Well, misplaced in the world. His own fault. He thinks of it everyday.

He studies the bricks while he smokes and waits at the side of the building, now, early as he was yesterday lest he miss something important. What it would be, he doesn't know. Perhaps he just hopes you'll be given back to him sooner today, because he's coming to realize he's grown fond of knowing exactly where you are. After your mother died, the clinginess is a little more souring than he'd like to feel, so he doesn't study it.

Instead, he flicks ash off his cigarette and considers that it's going to get chilly soon. You've grown since last winter, and he ought to make sure you still fit your coat when he brings you home.

He doubts Grimshaw will mind making you another; seems to like you. Pities you, anyways, because your father is the young, dumb oaf Arthur Morgan. That woman drives him insane, sometimes, but he has learned that she cares in her own way ever since you came along. A certain softness came out in her that, rarely but truly, extended to him, too.

The cigarette is replaced by another by the time the kids begin to pour out of the doors. Youngest first, so there's no wait to see you searching for him.

Already, Arthur knows something is wrong. There's no difference from your usual face, besides whatever calm comes over it when you lay eyes on him— but that calm looks more like an ache for comfort that concerns him, even though he can't tell what, precisely, tips him off. He supposes it's the same thing that changed him to the point of considering your winter clothes, whatever thing makes him a father instead of a simple man.

The ground is tough and sandy below his knee when he drops to one to meet your eyes, brows raised in expectance of some explanation. Even your gait is quicker, your hug tighter; you aren't talking like you were yesterday, let alone grinning, and Arthur pinches his cigarette in his teeth to smooth a hand over your head and back.

That smile had made you seem so grown-up, but now you look so young and small. He takes the smoke from his lips and holds the hand to the side to keep it from your face.

"How's your day, buddy?" He asks, anyways, and frowns when you shrink in his arms and press closer. Peeling away to take a look at you, Arthur runs a hand over the side of your head to brush away your hair. He doesn't see any bruises or scrapes, but still asks: "Y'get in a fight or somethin'?"

You shake your head. His hand is large where it lays on your shoulder, firm and comforting. It only takes a moment for you to give up the silence and struggle to explain.

"She called me lazy," you say.

Arthur's brows furrow. "Teacher, you mean?"

You nod, speaking as if it's difficult not to burst into a shout. Around you, the older kids begin to pour out, but he is only focused on your voice. "She smacked me with a ruler."

"What?" He interrupts.

It comes out harsher than he means it to, and he strokes a hand over your head when you flinch. Jesus, you're on edge if you're flinching at him. Anger broils hot and instant in his gut; he knows very well how most people raise their kids and he had talked long and hard with Grimshaw for yanking on your ear one too many times but regardless, it isn't anyone's place to lay a hand on you. It isn't even his — he isn't Lyle, and you're considerably more of an angel than he ever has been himself — but it certainly isn't anyone else's.

"Where?" His eyes pass over you, searching.

Looking over the handsewn clothes Grimshaw had done-up for you, adorned with those gaudy little buttons Dutch had popped off of some nice suit jackets during a gathering he'd infiltrated some months ago, Arthur feels even more anger. Six years of raising you and dressing you in love.

It certainly is not her right to smack his child. Our child, he thinks, and the fondness only feeds the disgust. Suddenly, he wonders what you didn't tell him the first day, and if some of those wailing kids were sad for more than simply missing mother dearest.

You hold out your hands, backs up. A few knuckles are swollen, and you wince when he traces a fingertip over them to test how badly.

He bites back a sigh. He feels like he should've known this would happen, although not a single one of them has been inside a schoolhouse. Maybe Grimshaw, seems the type, but she never spoke of it. Still, Arthur thinks he should've known it the same way he knows you'll grow out of your coat this winter.

Isn't it what fathers do? Know things? Lyle hadn't been much of a father, but he always knew things.

Is Arthur worse off than him?

"Why'd she do this?" He asks.

Your face is growing redder and redder, flushed with embarrassment and shame. He wishes he had the words to soothe that, but he knows a scolding like this always leaves a certain rawness in a child. He'd had plenty of them himself.

"I was bein'... in— inatten..." The frustration of not being able to remember and repeat the word wells tears in your eyes, but Arthur's heard enough.

"Hey, it's a'right," he hushes, shaking his head. Takes a quick drag and blows it to the side. "Let's get'chu home, okay?"

You ignore him, trying to explain: "I was bad at math."

"Shit, I ain't no good with numbers, neither," Arthur says, and then catches himself. "Don't say shit. Okay?" You nod. A small flicker of your lips into a smile makes him feel better, though you still look like a kicked puppy and it makes his heart ache. "Let's get'chu home," he repeats, and this time you listen.

He's never seen Hosea so displeased.

That's untrue; he has, over gunshots and blood-puddles. It feels like a gunshot to see you burst into tears, curled into the man's chest after Arthur tried to encourage you to talk to him about what happened. He had always been better with words, but he remembers while watching him handle your sobbing that Hosea has always been better with comfort, too.

Hardly had the man picked you off your spot hugged to Arthur's front atop Boadicea — did so yesterday too, and if today was just as happy then Arthur would've been glad to see it turn into a habit — before you broke into tears once more. He had quieted you eventually on the ride with the promise of not returning, although he intended to talk it over with the others before he decided once and for all.

Our kid, he thinks warmly, and then: I feel like a kid myself. Some things come naturally when you have a child, he's finding, but so much of it just doesn't.

"Teacher smacked 'em with a ruler. Poor thing's knuckles are all..." Arthur explains, sighing heavily, waving with a hand in the air as if to say: fucked up. Hosea will jump off that crate he's sat on and smack him if he talks that foul in front of you. At least I'm grown enough to take a flick to the nose, he thinks bitterly. "Doesn't wanna go back, now."

Hosea seems to struggle through the same thoughts as he did, prying your hand off his chest to take a look. It's normal for others, though not for them. Not with you, at least. He can almost see the memories of similar punishments in his eyes. Still, Hosea pats your back and picks you off himself to hold your face.

"You think your Daddy knows everything you need to know, anyways, do you?" He asks.

It's a tease, mostly, humor to get you to stop crying. You're too upset to realize, and only nod. Arthur could cry himself at that. I'm still a kid myself, he thinks, in the back of his mind; Hosea only smiles at him, before righting his expression to look at you.

"I figure we all do," he says. Looking to Arthur, he raises his brows. "You intendin' to try again?"

Arthur sighs, shrugs his shoulders. He doesn't feel so dissimilar to you: vaguely ashamed, upset, embarrassed. "I was gon' ask what'chu thought I oughtta do," he admits.

Almost imperceptibly, Hosea's face softens further. "Well," he says, looks back to you to dry your eyes and wipe your nose with the sleeve of his button-up. Natural-born for a man that's never raised kids this young. "I never was in school, 'n' I'd say I'm quite well-educated."

"Never had a class on humbleness, I see," Arthur says.

Hosea snorts. "Don't listen to him," he says without sparing a glance.

"What's humbleness?" You ask, oblivious.

"Oh," Arthur says, steps forward to ruffle the hair atop your head. "Y'see, Uncle Dutch is real humble."

The other man bites his cheek to stave off a smile. "Arthur," he warns, looking up at him.

But it's a good opportunity to send you off and allow the two of them to talk in private, so he leans over to catch your gaze. "If you go tell Dutch he's humble, I'll give you a dollar," he promises, patting your shoulder.

"Is humble mean?" You ask.

"Y'catch on quick," Arthur says, grinning. John has certainly given you coins to say worse to him, though he found it funny each time. Your face is puffy and red, and he finds it sweet that you paused every other thought going through your head to consider it. "No, it ain't mean, sweetheart. Very nice, in fact."

Very mean to lie about, he thinks, and when you turn on your heel to go and earn yourself a dollar, he knows you will be just fine. Hosea laughs only when you've pattered away.

"Odd critters, kids," Arthur says. He sounds far too fond.

It was an easy choice. It had been a stretch to even take you to school, and the adults had all agreed that you'd likely miss most of it, anyways. They could only change so much about their lives, even if it was no way to raise you.

Sometimes Arthur wonders what it'd be like to live a normal life with you. To find someone to help him raise you proper, like a civilized family. He doesn't speak of it, but he's sure they all know that he wonders. Maybe they do, too. He thinks on it less after testing those waters with school, but once in a blue moon, the dream comes back to him.

Arthur ran into a block, as far as teaching you how to read went. He'd sat you on his lap and tried his damnedest to answer the fifty questions that every sentence of Dutch's borrowed book provoked you to ask, but he had run out of answers very quickly despite it being one of the simplest ones he had to offer.

For the last two days, he has been laying awake at night trying to answer why, exactly, bear means both an animal and an action that seemingly makes no sense. Tried and failed to use Hosea's beat-up old Bible to teach you a few words, because by the second verse it was losing him a little, too. That one made him feel quite stupid.

Hosea is better suited for that, they'd decided. He seemed a little tired being asked to teach yet another person to read, but Arthur knows that irritation is only skin-deep and watches it disappear whenever you're around. When Arthur said he wasn't sure where to start with writing, either, Hosea put a hand on his shoulder and told him the alphabet in a tone that told him he was on his own, unless he really got too lost.

It is fair. Arthur wants to teach you as much as he can, too, finds a sort of warmth about it.

The pride he feels watching you copy the alphabet he'd printed out — as steady as he could, admittedly nervous he'd screw it up and somehow damage your intellect forever, is this what being a dad feels like? — was greater than any he'd felt before. Your handwriting is unsteady, and he has to readjust the pencil in your grip more than once, but by all accounts, it is much easier to answer what sound does this make? than what's a garden?

He lets you work. Arthur likes, too, that this way your first writings will be kept in his journal. He already protects it like a sacred thing; now, it'll probably be on his body or in his pocket until you're old enough to marry someone. Even then, if all goes well, he'll have it.

Oh, how the thought of you growing up distresses him. He can't imagine what you might look like older, even though it sneaks up on him every year come your birthday that your eyes and nose are looking more adjusted to your skull, that your face is sharpening out from baby-round. He could hardly picture John as anything but the scraggly little mutt Dutch dragged back into camp when he had. It's a familiar, more intense fear.

Shit, Arthur doesn't even know what he himself will look like come three year's time.

He's twenty-five and still changing. Will he see what your face settles on?

Is this what it is to be a father?

He thinks so. There can't be any other truth, because he's faced this feeling every time you've hit a milestone. He was glad you didn't need to be carried constantly anymore, but so very depressed that you could walk; he was overjoyed when you said his name clear as day for the first time, but he was terrified at the thought that he may one day be Arthur to you.

It's sad, but it makes him smile when you look up and proclaim that your wobbly rendition of the letter W — dubba-yuh, as you say, he won't ever get over how children always sound like they are drunk — looks almost exactly like his.

Grimshaw and Hosea make a fuss, playing cards at the poker table some yards away. You ignore them entirely, absorbed in your own little world, writing at your own pace. With ears that turn off so easily, he worries about how you'll do hunting. He could've heard Grimshaw asking Hosea in exasperation why he's not cheating, you old fool, from a mile away.

Then comes Dutch, after you've scrawled a few more letters. Walking quiet up to the pair of you sat in the grass outside Arthur's tent, observing from above you before he speaks.

"Arthur?" He asks, and he sounds odd, considering that they're doing nothing unusual.

He looks up. "Yeah?"

Dutch points to the open journal. You look between them, then, interested in whatever is going on now that your dad is involved. "Did you forget the letter Z?"

Arthur squints, looks back at the journal. Oh. His ears turn red, but he only clears his throat. "I mean, who uses Z anyways?" He dismisses.

The prospect of being able to show some kind of smartness beyond a full-grown adult's seems to excite you. "Where's Z go?" You ask Dutch.

He kneels, takes the pencil and book from you to write it in after Y. In cursive. Christ, Arthur thinks, but he doesn't say anything.

"Right here, my dear," he says. Handing you the pencil back, he smiles as you skip over the others to add your own interpretation early. "Now, will you cover your ears for me?" Perplexed, but you obey anyways. Arthur is already narrowing his eyes before Dutch turns to him. "You are a goddamn fool, you know that?"

There's no malice in it, only amusement. He looks positively chuffed, which almost irritates Arthur more than if he truly meant to call him an idiot. "Who even uses Z?" He repeats, waves a hand. "It ain't that big'a mistake."

"I don't know," Dutch scoffs. "A zebra?"

"A zebra?" Arthur says, in disbelief. "You ever seen one for y'self?"

Dutch's brows raise. "Are you—?" His face falls into mock graveness. "Arthur Morgan," he says, feigning disappointment. "You can't be serious."

"Well, have you?"

"I ain't gon' dignify that with a response," Dutch says, turns to smile at you. He always smiles at you, at least, Arthur likes that about the man. He plucks one of your hands off your head. "You're good, now, honey. Keep writin'."

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sunsetsandsunshine · 5 months ago

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If I may request a Rise fic!! I’m a huge sucker for comfort/cheer up tickles, so could you possibly write a disaster twins fic with Lee Leo and Ler Donnie where Leo’s been having a pretty bad day (because of what is your choice!) and ends up feeling self conscious about himself and stuff, so Donnie decides to cheer up his twin!! Please don’t feel rushed and make sure you’re taking care of yourself ^_^

~ 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜!!! ~

💜💙 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 💜💙

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙼𝚂𝙺𝙽𝚂𝙽𝙺𝙼𝙳𝙽𝚂𝙹 𝙽𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝙾𝙷 𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷 𝚈𝙾𝚄. 𝙶𝙴𝚃. 𝙼𝙴!!! 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝙻𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝙹𝙰𝙼!!! 𝙴𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚜…𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢..𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎??? 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!!!˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟺,𝟹𝟿𝟺

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍…𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝙱𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @itzsana-kiddingmenow @aceofspades-doodles @ziipzeepzop-eez

@tmntheadforever123 @rice-cake-teen10 @aninabanina6969

@savemeafruitjuice @cedarrthefluffylee @saturnzskyzz @titters-and-tingles

@someone1348 @my-l0v3r-v3rse @snipersiniora @mistyandsnow

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙰𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!! ��𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚣𝚢…

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙷𝙴𝙴 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again.” Leo grumbled under his breath as he rested his mouth on his palm, glancing away from his brother as he sighed loudly.

“Well maybe if you weren’t so fucking reckless I wouldn’t need to.” Donnie growled lowly, glaring down at his twin.

“I’m not a baby, Don. I don’t need to be supervised like I’m some bomb triggered to explode.” The younger said in exasperation, lying down on his bed whilst grabbing a comic book to read off of his desk.

If Leo was going to be told off and scolded by his dear beloved brow-loving brother, he should at least have something to occupy himself with in the meanwhile.

The softshell groaned eternally at his little brother’s action, quickly snatching the piece of literature out of the other’s hands and throwing it effortlessly to the ground.

Uninterested lime green eyes locked with a determined yet fierce light golden, both of them refusing to look away or blink to show their dominance.

But after a while, the red eared slider grew more impatient, looking away again as he picked a hangnail on his thumb, “If you’re going to yell at me, can you just get it over with? I saw a reddit post predicting what’s going to happen in The Umbrella Academy season four and I need to read it.”

“You can read that later, Nardo. I promise you, that reddit post isn’t going to fly away.” The elder said as he pinched the bridge of his snout, “What I need you to do right now is acknowledge what you did today was stupid, alright?”

Leo looked away from his older brother, scoffing lightly, “I do stupid things all the time. What stupid action of mine are you wanting to scream at me for this time?”

The softshell turtle took a couple deep breaths at that comment, drumming his fingers on his left arm in a soothing motion because he was NOT going to give into the urge of strangling his twin brother…

…No matter how much he deserved it.

“I’m not planning on screaming at you— that won’t help anyone or anything.” The purple banded turtle explained calmly…but you could see and tell he was starting to lose his paitence.

“But you want to.” The red eared slider pressed on.

“Leo…please. I don’t want to argue right now.”

“We’re not arguing. We’re just kindly discussing my oh-so stupid descision that unfolded earlier today, right?” The younger twin smirked smugly, his eyes locking once again with his brother.

When it came to arguments, the leader in blue always had this wonderful tactic to avoiding things: attempting to annoy the other person so much that they drop the subject they wanted to discuss with him completely.

It always worked with Raph…which the red eared slider didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But the only downside of doing this tactic was his dumb twin saw right through it…

…And Leonardo despised it.

“Nardo…you know what I’m referring to. And stop picking, please. Your going to hurt yourself.” The older attempted to say in a tranquil voice, but it personally just sounded like he was one second away from losing. his. shell.

“I sadly do not know what your referring to.” The blue cladded teen said coyly, picking on his hangnail more desperately now, “Care to enlighten me, Tello?”

Donnie’s expression hardened ever so slightly at his younger brother’s absolute persistence on annoying him out of his right mind so he could eventually drop the subject…but the softshell turtle was not budging.

His twin would have to try way harder than that.

“I’d love to.” The light golden eyed mutant said in a fake sweet tone as he walked over to lean his shell on Leo’s closed door, crossing his arms in disaproval. The elder grabbed his brother’s sword, planting it right next to his foot so the blue banded turtle couldn’t reach for it.

The red eared slider’s cocky grin turned to a small grimace (shake) as he soon came to terms with what his older brother was doing…

…He physically could not leave from this conversation…literally.

Leonardo crossed his arms, trying to mimick the other’s serious demeanor but was only met with an icy glare in return.

“What you did during today’s mission was completley reckless and idiotic, Leonardo…and you know it.” The second oldest said, “I had that thug exactly where I wanted him but noooooo. Because you saw me trip you thought it would be a spectacular idea to throw yourself on top of me as that hooligan tried to hit me with his bat!!” Donatello seethed.

“We’ve been over this multiple times, Leo! There was no reason for you to do that!” The light golden eyed teen yelled, his glare only hardening more as he saw the younger stuttering over his words to try to defend himself.

“I’m not done.” The taller teen growled, all of his calmness and collectiveness thrown completley out of the window.

The slider slightly flinched (which went un-noticed by the other) at his brother’s genuine angry tone, his left leg fidgeting and bouncing up and down like crazy.

His tactic was really starting to not work in his favour at all…

“Just…stop putting yourself in the middle of danger like you’re just expecting the rest of us to just watch. We’re your family…and most importantly, we can defend ourselves just fine.”

“Well ihisn’t that hypocritic!” Leonardo scoffed before creasing his eye ridges together in genuine confusion, mumbling to himself, “Hyp…uh…hypocrotic? Hyp…Hypocratic…?”

“Hypocritical?” The older deadpanned.

“YES! THAT WORD!” Leo said, “When we were fighting Kraang Prime on the ship and he went to take a blow at Mikey…what did you do?”

Donatello scowled, his eyes not leaving his twin, “…I went in front of him and shielded him with my mystic tech.”

“Exactly.” The lime green eyed mutant scoffed, “And how is that any different from what I did, hm?”

“BECAUSE I HAD A PLAN!!!” Donatello shouted, “I planned to accordingly go in front of Mikey so my sheild could protect both him and me. Did it end up turning out perfect? Fuck no. Kraang Prime slashed right through it and me and Mikey went tumbling towards the ground…” The glasses wielding teen said through clenched teeth.

The light golden eyed teen rubbed his face tiredly, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration, “But I had a plan. You on the other hand, just zoomed recklessly on top of me and hoped for the best.”

“…I saved you, didn’t I…?” The younger twin mumbled out meekly, causing Donatello’s blood to absolutley boil.

“That’s not the point!!!” The elder said as he clenched his hands at his sides again.

“Then what is?!” Leo said desperately, “Because from the looks of it, it just seems like you want to yell at me for just doing my job.”

Leonardo pulled on his mask tails anxiously, trying to calm himself down but ultimately just making himself feel worse by doing the action, “I’ve been trying to be a better leader—“

“Leo—“

“—For you and Mikey and April and Raph and Casey and C.J. a-and Dad! But it seems like no matter what the hell I do there’s always something I’m doing WRONG!!!” The younger twin shouted, blinking back tears as he glared at the ground as if it took his Jupiter Jim comic.

Which…it did. The blue banded mutant wanted it back now, actually…

“I saved you! I-I didn’t even get hurt by doing it but somehow there’s an issue…” The lime green eyed teen murmured, both of his legs bouncing up and down as he tugged on his mask tails harder, “There always is…”

“Leonardo can you please just listen to me?” The older twin said in irritation.

“But Don I’m—“

“No, Leo! Just listen! That’s all you need to do!” Donnie snapped as he cut his brother off, “I don’t want you leaping head first into harms way! At all! Especially if you don’t have a plan!” The softshell turtle exclaimed as he flapped his hands against the side of his thighs, but his eye contanct remaining on his little brother.

“Oho so now you don’t trust me well enough to know that I can handle myself in combat?” Leo said in a last desperate attempt to make his brother drop the conversation.

“I…” The young scientist’s eye twitched, his eyebrows creasing together as he had to physically restrain himself to not beat the ever living crap out of the other teen, “THIS IS NOT ABOUT TRUST, NARDO!” The light golden eyed mutant screamed desperately, his hands flapping faster as the red eared slider shrunk at his usage of tone, “This is about you not even thinking about what would happen to yourself when you do reckless nonsense like this.”

Leo glanced to the side, his eyes watering as he bit the inside of his cheek.

He just wanted to help and be the leader his brother’s deserved…

But he always found a way to fuck it up without even noticing, huh?

"You don't think about what could happen to you and I hate it!” The elder cried, “What would’ve happened if Raph didn’t come behind the guy and knocked him out cold at the last second, huh?! Would you have just stayed right on me as he continued to beat you with his bat?!”

Leonardo bit the inside of his cheek harder, his legs bouncing up and down more as his fingernails dug unforgivingly into his arms, “I-I’m sorry, Donnie—”

“Or would you have tried to fight him instead?! Mind you, you dropped your sword before coming to me so you’d have no weapon to defend yourself.”

“You don't think about how much it scares me when you do dumb shit like that! I hate seeing you get hurt…I freaking loathe it.” Donnie rested the back of his head on Leo’s door, taking a couple deep breaths and hugging himself in an attempt to calm himself down.

Jeez…when the hell had he started yelling? His throat stung like a bitch now…

And when had he started shaking like a bobby head?!

The older twin’s expression softened, pinching the bridge of his snout once more, “I care about you…so fucking much, okay…?” The purple banded turtle said gently as he gradually started to simmer down and become more calm, “Your my twin…my little brother. And I hate to be repetitive but I-I just despise seeing you hurt…physically or emotionally…so please just…”

The young scientist’s eyes widened, peering down at his brother who did not seem to be following…at all.

Leo’s eyes were wide as saucers as he hit his arm with his fist repeatedly whilst obviously trying to suck in whatever tears dared to try and escape.

The taller turtle basically ran to his distressed twin, trying to stop him from harming himself any further but was only met with a low grunt.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Fucking shit.

Wonderful job, Donatello! You yelled at your brother so much he shut down!

Even though you knew he can’t fucking stand being yelled at and the whole point of you even being here was to explain what he did wrong collectively and calmly because that was the exact oppositeof what Raph does when he’s worried…

But no! You yelled at him anyway.

Wonderful job, Donatello…wonderful. job.

The older twin sighed sadly, gently grabbing his brother’s wrists so he would stop hitting himself. The two brother’s shared eye contact once again, an unsure lime green meeting an understanding yet uncertain light golden.

“Nardo…” The softshell started, squeezing the other’s hands gently, “…Are you with me, bud…?”

Leo just nodded quietly, squeezing back.

“God…Nardo I’m so sorry…” The older muttered, “I don’t…I don’t know why the hell I lost my cool like that. I-I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t of yelled…I-I just…” Donatello sighed, squeezing his brother’s hands once again. “I’m not angry with you. I…I was just frustrated.”

“Well, no…let me rephrase: I am angry with you— livid even. You know damn well enough that when you do those kinds of things my heart literally jumps out of my shell. I need you to put into consideration that I would like to live to at least seventy-seven…”

The younger twin giggled wetly, fidgeting with his brother’s fingers as he spoke, “…Why seventy-seven?”

“Albert Einstein died when he was seventy-six…I can and will outlive him.” The light golden eyed teen said matter-of-factly, “But back to what I was initially saying…I know you meant well. You saw that I was in trouble…and you dropped literally everything in order to help me get out of said trouble. You don’t think of what happens to you…you just do it because you’ll know if you do we’ll be alright…”

“I-I just…I just wanted to protect you…I-I just wanted to help…” Leo tried to explain.

“I know. I know, Lee…” Donatello sighed, rubbing the slider’s knuckles gently with his thumb, “But you need to understand that with you trying to protect us that way, your putting us in the same situation your trying to keep us away from.” The elder explained lightly, smiling softly as him and his twin’s forehead’s touched.

“You’re getting hurt— or at the very least almost getting hurt. We’re feeling the same anguish and guilt you would feel if any of us did that. I get that you want to be a good leader and shit…but you can lead well without doing that…okay?”

Leo fiddled with the other’s fingers a bit more, his bouncing leg starting to calm a bit, “I’ll…try to be more careful when it comes to me protecting you guys like that. When I see you all in trouble…I just…react. I don’t really care about what happens to me as long as you guys end up okay. But…I’ll try to be more careful. And if I ever end up, like, being a bit too reckless…you can just tell me…deal?”

“Deal.” Donnie nodded, squeezing Leo’s hands one last time before letting go, wiping his twin’s eyes with his hoodie sleeve, “Now please stop crying or you’re going to make me start crying.”

Leo snorted, examining the other’s now tearing up expression, “I think it’s a bit too late for that…”

“GAH! FUHUCK!” Donnie cursed, wiping his own eyes as the slider laughed loudly at his exclamation.

“Leo…don’t you think you’re getting a bit too big for this…?” Donatello grumbled as Leonardo was on his lap, getting all nice and comfy as he rested his chin on the older’s shoulder. “Noooope.” Leo drawed out, making a dramatic popping noise at the end of the 'p', “'Sides, this is what you get for making me emo earlier.”

“…I said I was sorry…I didn’t mean to shout at you like that. I was just concerned…”

“I know that, you worrywart. I was just kidding.” The lime green eyed teen said lovingly, squishing his brother into a tighter embrace. The older let out a short shriek at the hug but of course didn’t mind the other being so clingy.

If the young scientist really and truly did mind? Leo would’ve been pushed to the floor by now.

The two twins shared a comfortable silence…well…a semi-comfortable silence.

The purple banded teen felt…off. His younger brother had this…look in his eyes; like he wanted to say something but was afraid of what Donnie would say or how Donnie would react.

Which was so damn dumb Donatello didn’t even know how to explain it.

“…There’s something else on your mind.” The taller turtle hummed, his suspicions only rising as the other glanced to the side. “Uhm…no there isn’t. See? This is why I call you a worrywart.” Leonardo said, tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously.

Very convincing Leo…very convincing.

“Don’t even try lying to me, Leon. My older brother and twin senses are tingling. You can’t argue against that kind of logic.” The scientist said matter-of-factly.

“What are you, Spiderman?” The younger snorted.

“We shall never know.” The older shrugged, a small smile spreading to his face as he saw the other snort softly at his statement, “Now stop deflecting. Spill.”

“…Can you…adjust my elbow braces…?” The red eared slider muttered.

“…Why can’t you do it?” The other questioned. Not in a malicious way; he was just genuinely curious.

“I like it when you do it. You make it more firm, y'know?” The blue banded turtle whined dramatically, “Pleeeeeease?”

“Ugh, Jesus— fine. But drop the pout…you look ridiculous.” The taller mutant sighed, lightly grabbing his brother’s arm as he readjusted the braces.

The purple banded turtle meticulously took off the other’s left arm brace, tracing his twin’s elbow to make sure it was healing correctly— which the slider couldn’t help but wriggle slightly to.

As the older twin put the brace back on, he looked at the other turtle in complete worry, “…Why are you squirming around so much?” Donatello asked in confusion.

“…No reason.” Leonardo stated, but let out a tiny squeak as Donnie lightly pinched his forearm.

“Yohou okay…?” The glasses wielding mutant giggled.

“I-I’m fihine!” The smaller turtle insisted, covering his mouth as he let out a loud shriek in result to his brother now lightly scribbling his forearm. “EEEEE! P-Plehease moohoove yohour hahahand!!” The younger sputtered out, hiding his face in the crook of the scientist’s neck which the older turtle couldn’t help but let his heart melt to.

“Oh.” Donatello hummed, biting back an amused laugh, “Sorry. Sometimes I forget how ticklish you are…”

“Snrt I-Ihihi’m nahat ticklish. I juhust don’t wahant your hand thehere…”

And isn’t that quaint.

If Donnie had a penny for every time Leo said he 'wasn’t ticklish', the softshell would be richer than Elon Musk.

“…Right. So…you wouldn’t mind me doing this then?” The young genius mused as he scribbled one hand over his twin’s ribs. “EEEEHEH! Duhuhude noHOH!! F-Fuhuck yohou!” The younger twin managed through his small giggles, pushing on his brother’s plastron to try and escape while he still could.

The elder laughed fondly at his little brother’s futile actions, hugging him closer as he lightly tickled him, “Nahardo! My brohohother in Christ gehet back here or you’re gohoing to fahall off of the bed!

“N-NOHO!! LEHET ME GO!” The lime green eyed teen screeched loudly, kicking his legs and pushing even harder on the other’s plastron, his eye’s widening in panic as his older brother casually lifted him up and pinned his arms above his head, his plastron now facing up on the bed.

Eugh boy…

Donnie grinned, sitting on the other’s thighs as he wiggled his unoccupied fingers in the air near the slider’s side, “That’s better~!”

“WAHAIT WAHAHAIT snrt PLEHEASE DEEHEE!!” The red eared slider cried, kicking his legs from underneath the scientist.

If he was going to go down…he would at least go down fighting.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, you goof…” The older twin chuckled.

“B-BUHUT YOHOUR GOHOHONNA!”

“'Gonna' what, exactly?”

“TihiHICKLE ME!!”

“Tickle you? Well, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” Donatello snickered, using his free hand to skitter his fingers along the crook’s of the younger’s neck.

The blue banded turtle squealed, shaking his head back in forth whilst scrunching his shoulders, “GAHaha— snrt EEEEHEEHEH oho cohome snrt OHAHAN!!”

“What’s wrong, Leo? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish~?” The older teased.

“Snrt STHDHAHAH! Shuhut UP! IHI’M naHAT!” The younger shouted, tugging and pulling his arms to try and get his hand’s free from the other’s grasp. Donnie just laughed softly at the action, wiggling his fingers above his little brother’s stomach.

The lime green eyed teen’s eyes widened in panic, thrashing in the hold to try and loosen his brother’s grip but the purple banded turtle did not budge even a smidge.

Leo’s laughs became more giddy and loud as he continued to squirm, small squeals and snorts escaping his beak as his twin brother’s hand went sloooooowly to his stomach.

“N-NOHO NONONONO DAHA— snrt DOHON!!” The smaller turtle snorted, hiding his face in the side of his arm which Donnie couldn’t help but giggle to.

The light golden eyed mutant rested his hand on the slider’s plastron, making the younger turtle’s laugh raise almost a thousand octaves.

“DOHON’T snrt DOHON’T DOHOHON’T snrt YOU DARE!! YOHOUR SOHO MEEHEEHEEAN!!” Leonardo whined, hiding deeper into his arm and becoming a giggly flustered mess.

The older twin shook his head fondly at his little brother’s embarrassed state, taking the opportunity to tickle the younger’s stomach while he wasn’t looking.

Leo let out a loud scream, descending into high-pitched cackles as even louder snorts followed, “HAHAHAHELP!! IHI’M SNRT BEEHEEING SLAHAHAUTERED!!”

“I’m quite literally only using one hand, Nardo. Stop being dramatic.” The light golden eyed teen mused whilst watching his brother snort and squirm, “And here I thought I was the dancer of the family. Look at you! You’re making up a whole dance routine right now!” He said as he let go of Leo, crossing his arms in amusement.

“S-Shuhuhut snrt up…” The younger twin wheezed out, hugging his middles as he playfully glared at his purple loving brother.

Then, a lightbulb went on in the scientist’s brain, a smug smile spreading to his face, “Hm…you know, Lee—”

“Dohont call snrt me thahat!” Leo giggly interupted.

“Uh-huh. Well, Lee…did you know that the underarms are one of the warmest places on the human body?” The scientist said.

The lime green eyed mutant cocked his head to the side in confusion, “Soho?”

“Soooo my hands are cold. Very cold, in fact. I’d be forever in your debt if you could—”

“NO! NONOHO WAHAY IN HEHELL! G-GOHO AWAHAHAY!” Leo squealed, reaching for his brother’s wrists as the elder tried to tickle his neck once again.

Sigh…Leonardo made this too damn easy sometimes.

The glasses wielding teen wasn’t just going to miss this oh-so-definetly-not-planned opportunity! The softshell scribbled his fingers along the slider’s underarms, making the younger let out a loud squawk as he shot his arms down.

“NAHAH AHAHAHA— snrt GEHET THEHE HEHELL OHAHA— snrt OHOHOUT!!” Leonardo cried while banging his heels on the bed.

“What~?” Donnie hummed inocently.

“GEHEHET AHA— snrt GEHET. OHOUT. OHOF THEHEHERE!”

“Awe…why~?”

“BEEHEECAUSE IHIT’S SOHO BAHAHAD!!!”

“And?” Donnie chuckled, “That sounds like a you problem, little brother.”

“AHHHAHA— snrt GAHAHAD FUHUCK YOHOU!!!”

“Pardon…what was that?” Donnie questioned as he pinched where Leo’s hip met his thigh. “N-NONO— snrt NAHAHAH!! I CAN’T— snrt PLEHEHEASE I’M snrt SORRY!! I-IHI TAHAHAKE IHIT BAHAHCK!!”

“Nah…I think I’ll just stay riiiiight here for a bit…” The taller turtle smiled, using both of his hands now to tickle Leo into a laughing and snorting blob.

The younger weakly hit his big brother’s arms, throwing his head back as he squeezed his eyes completely shut.

“…And you know what, Lee~?”

“WHAHAHAT NOW?!”

“I’m feeling…kind of famished.” The elder mused, his smile almost looking like the signature Joker’s as he saw his younger brother’s face pale.

Leonardo scrambled to sit up, fighting with his brother’s arms as he giggly protested, “PLAHA— snrt PLAHAHEASE! PLEHEASE snrt D-DOHON’T!!”

Donnie pinched his brother’s thighs unforgivingly, “You should have thought about that before yapping such ill nonsense about yourself.”

“WHAHA— snrt WHAHAHA— snrt WHAHAT DIHID snrt IHIHI snrt EVEN SAHAHAY?!” The lime green eyed turtle cackled, flapping his hands on the mattress.

It took literally everything in the older twin not to coo his baby brother’s adorable actions; instead, he lightly moved Leo’s hands away, smiling evily as he lowered his head to the other’s plastron, “You don’t even know. Guess you really want this, huh~?”

The blue banded teen kicked his knees into his brother’s shoulders and shell, throwing his head back in complete hysterics whilst waiting for him complete and utter demise.

The softshell wasted no time blowing raspberries after raspberries in the middle of his younger’s stomach, making sure to move the other’s hands away any time he tried to push at the young genius’ head.

Donnie didn’t feel like getting brain damage after all.

Plus, he had his signature glasses ᴅᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʟᴏ ᴛᴍ on! And those were trademarked…as you can wonderfully see.

“God…can you get more ticklish?” Donatello giggled, squeezing and squishing the red eared slider’s knees with one hand and scribbling his sides with the other whilst contuinung to raspberry Leo’s stomach.

“DEEHEE DEEHEEHEE SNRT PLEHEHEASE!!! IHI SNRT DAHAHAH— SNRT DAHA— SNRT DAHUNNO!!” The smaller turtle screamed, happy stimming with his arms on the taller twin’s shoulder.

Donnie couldn’t help but chuckle, deciding to show his twin a tad bit of mercy as he nibbled his stomach lightly.

The slider let out bloody murder from his beak, happy tears threatening to fall from his eyes as his bubbly cackles and snorts bounced off the walls of his room.

“Jeez…I think Peppa Pig has some competition, huh~?” The light golden eyed mutant snickered.

“PLEHEHEASE!! TEHEHELLO SNRT IHI’M GOH— SNRT GOHOHA— AHAHA SNRT MYHYHY SNRTGAHAHAHAD!!!” The smaller teen pleaded.

“Do you promise to stop putting yourself in between danger and your family?” The older hummed.

“YEHEHES!!” The younger cried loudly.

“Do you promise to go easier on yourself?”

“YAHA— SNRT YAHA— SNRT YEHEHES!!!”

“Do you promise to accept your doing an amazing job as leader and we all love you—”

“MY SNRT FUHUHUCKING SNRT GAHAHAD!!! IHIHI SNRT GEHET IT!!” Leonardo shouted, his blush now completley blending into the red stripes on his face.

The softshell turtle got off of the other, sitting next to his little brother as his little brother in question hugged his middles and giggled tiredly.

“Y-Yohou could ohof juhuhust sahaid ahall of thahat wihihithout tickling meeheee…” The younger grumbled despite the evident smile on his face.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Donnie smiled back, his expression softening as Leo got up and leaned against him softly. The older wraped an arm around the younger’s shoulder, pulling him closer into a warm, protective gesture.

“Ahand would yohohou look ahat that! Ihi got yohour emo bahad boy ahahass to smile todahay. Your eheeven hugging me~!” The blue banded leader spoke softly, his voice filled with affection as he poked his twin’s forehead cheekily.

“You tell anyone that and I will not hesitate to deny that extremely untrue statement.” The scientist huffed, rolling his eyes fondly as his smile spread.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)