#steelbeak tbt

[ducktales-wco-oo]

✩ { @aflockoffeathers​ } ✩ - Continued from ★

{ ☆ } It might be considered a stupid question to ask, as if Fenton could possibly cause harm to the huge rooster. Hell, even a more properly-statured duck would have trouble, let alone the diminutive fluff that makes up Fenton. But Fenton’s instincts don’t take logic into account, worry apparent as he gazes up at the looming stranger, scanning his mom for any signs of injury… or aggravation. Something that seems far more probable, considering that Fenton had fumbled into them out of nowhere.

Breathing a sigh of relief when his concerns are put to rest— the stretch of silence hadn’t been comforting —a grateful smile overtakes his concern, feathers instinctively fluffing in response to the others purr, even if Fenton doesn’t consciously register the flirty tone. Accepting the hand with a polite thanks, Fenton stands upright, wobbling a bit as the duffel bag threatens to pull him back down. Shuffling the heavy object’s strap more comfortably onto his shoulder, he flashes a sheepish smile at the rooster, unwittingly still holding onto his hand.

❝ Oh, there’s honestly no need to apologize! It was entirely my fault… ❞ Fenton reassures, gaze flitting to the small tawny hand still clasped in the stranger’s large pale one. Abruptly letting go as if scalded, hand quickly darts to his chest in a closed fist, awkward laughter lightly slipping free as Fenton hastily adds, ❝ I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings. ❞ An apparent habit of his, going by the accidentally-prolonged hand-holding. ❝ Besides, the fall wasn’t that bad… ❞

Even if it DID hurt a bit, he’s been through worse…

Gaze averting to the side, Fenton fidgets in place as he adds in a drawn-out voice, ❝ But, the thought of some company is a pleasant one… ❞ Fenton could certainly use with some coffee too, after the exhausting day he’s been having. Surely beats going home and collapsing as soon as he steps foot into his room. With some caffeine in his veins, surely he’ll be able to more productively spend the time. Besides, this guy is nice… and Fenton DID disrupt his day. ❝ Please, allow me to purchase my own beverage. I’d hate to monetarily impose. ❞ Although from the look of the other’s suit, if anyone could afford a cup of coffee or two, it’s him. Meanwhile, Fenton can feel his finances screaming at an unexpected purchase.

Still, politeness causes Fenton to smile up at the tall male as he chipperly adds, ❝ Your company is more than sufficient. ❞ { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

Steel had had enough, to say the least. Seeing Bushroot in such a state, day in, day out, it was wearing down his own nerves; now he was seeing close to nothing but red. Bushroot had attempted to warn him off, but, there was only so much Steelbeak could see before he had to do something. If it put himself in danger, he’d deal with it; the waterfowl needed a lesson.

Brandishing knuckle dusters, gleaming like his beak, he walked into where the fearsome five were hiding out. Steelbeak said nothing, ignoring anything Bushroot may say towards his presence, assuming they notice him. The rooster’s on a mission.

Saying nothing, with a seething anger boiling inside him, he approached the waterfowl that kept hurting what was his. When he had their attention, he acts. Steel doesn’t even let them get a word in, when he’s decking them in the face. When the waterfowl hits the floor, it’s like the World goes still. They’re on the ground, and not attacking back, that’s all that matters.

Turning his gaze to the room around, eyes soon land on Bushroot. He lifts a hand, beckons them over,

“Bushie, doll, c'mere,” Voice is more of a soft coo, that anger being switched off when addressing his lover, “I’m takin’ ya’s ‘ome.”  - ✩ { @aflockoffeathers } ✩

{ ☆ } Bushroot had known this was a long-time coming… His boyfriend’s temper is not to be trifled with or underestimated. Even though the plant-duck has never been on the receiving end of it, he knows that much for CERTAIN. All the placating and distracting and reasoning in the world couldn’t stop the rooster from doing something once his mind was set. Didn’t stop Reggie from trying with every fiber of his being though. As much as he loves Steelbeak’s ability and desire to protect him, how eager the rooster is to keep him safe, there are some things that should NOT be done. Some people that are NOT to be messed with…. And anything that has to do with Negaduck qualifies.

As soon as Reggie sees Steelbeak, he feels his ‘blood’ grow cold. Feathers ruffling with unease and eyes widening with terror at what’s to come, he instinctively takes a small step forward, a leafy hand reaching out towards Steel despite the rooster being a good distance away.  ❝  Steely, no…  ❞  Reggie says in a hushed voice, barely more than a weak whine as he shimmies anxiously from foot to foot. Tapping his leaves together, bottom lip in nibbled and gaze frantically flits from Steelbeak’s hands— more accurately, his knuckles —to his sour expression.  ❝  Not good, not good, not good… Oh, this is so not good….  ❞  Reggie murmurs to himself in a hasty mantra, looking around as if in search of a quick escape.

For both him and Steelbeak of course… He’d never just slip away and leave his boyfriend alone in this horrid place. No matter how tempting that may be. Whimpering as the minutes stretch by like a lifetime, Reggie both wishes that the walk would take even longer… and that it would just hurry up and happen. Which it does…. And as soon as fist collides with Negaduck’s face, Reggie is back to wishing for limbo again. Shoulders hunch and face flushes at the looks he knows the other members of the Fearsome Five— mix Negaduck —are aiming his way as soon as Steelbeak regards him, Reggie feeling like there’s a blinding spotlight on him.

He hasn’t exactly TOLD the others about their.... relationship.

Reggie can’t breathe. Can barely think. He just wants to go home. To pretend none of this is happening. To be alone with Steelbeak, where he can just be held and ‘protected’ even though he’s never felt more unsafe in his entire LIFE than right now… because Steel got upset on his behalf. An irony that Reggie is not eager to unpack, the plant duck scampering forward before he’s even realized that his legs are moving. Quickly racing into Steelbeak’s arms, vines wrap around him multiple times in a hug, face burying into hackle feathers with a whimper, dampened by tears brimming in eyes squeezed shut as Bushroot whimpers,  ❝  Mm-hmm... Let’s go home. Let’s go home right now, please. Please.  ❞  

Trembling in his lover’s hold, Reggie doesn’t dare pull away, doesn’t even dare open his eyes for fear of what he might see around them. Negaduck is gonna be so mad. He’s gonna be furious with him... with Steelbeak... Surprisingly, Reggie hopes the brunt of the anger is aimed towards HIMSELF. At least he’s pretty sure he can’t die. Steelbeak on the other hand—  ❝  Please take me home, Steely.  ❞  

Please get yourself out of here. { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

"I want you out of my fucking head!" A snarl from the rooster, swinging a punch at the purple clad hero. "STOP getting in my way, STOP bringing these memories when you're obviously with someone else!" ( -randomly yeets Steelbeak for Drake bc -- Steelwing exes? ;3; )

- ✩ { @gamblealife } ✩

{ ☆ } Drake Darkwing yelps as he barely manages to dodge the heavy blow, ducking down and rolling to the side before hopping onto his feet. Fist clenched at his sides, feathers disheveled and breathing ragged, glare is riveted on the rampaging male. Growling under his breath at Steel’s relentless advances, Drake repeatedly hops backward to avoid punch after punch. Beak aching from one he hadn’t managed to evade, Drake doesn’t doubt that purple already blooms beneath his violet costume thanks to those unfairly-large hands. Ones that used to hold him so carefully, now thrashing at him with enraged movements. Quite a few blows seem purposely aimed at his face; something that Drake can’t help but take personally.

❝  Hey— Watch it!  ❞  He exclaims through a startled yelp, feeling wind whisk past his cheek as he stumbles back. A stupid thing to say, but one that tumbled forth without warning, indignant tone causing pink to flood from beneath his mask. Shaking his head as if attempting to literally shake away the shame, eyes narrow further and lavender flashes with annoyance.  ❝  Really? You’re getting pissed at me? YOU want ME to leave you alone?  ❞  

Ignoring the way his cheeks grow flushed at the mention of him being with Launchpad, Darkwing swings at Steelbeak. Words are emphasized by the desperate punch, fueled by the utter ridiculousness of what he’s hearing. Of what he’s feeling. Because they both know that—  ❝  YOU’RE THE ONE WHO DID THIS TO US!  ❞  

How could Steelbeak, of all people, be swayed to the side of depravity? Someone Drake had trusted. Had loved. Working alongside those heinous buzzards and conniving agents. For so long as well... even when he knew exactly how much Drake was opposing them. All that time, his identity known by one of the enemy— ... All that time. Known by Steel.

And he never said anything about it... to ANYONE.

❝   How could you betray me like that?  ❞  Another furious question, another well-aimed kick... another likely miss. Still, Drake preserves despite knowing how this fight will likely end. Neither of them winning, but neither losing either. He doesn’t know if it’s merely dumb-luck or a conscious decision, but either way it still beats being the one to bring Steel in. Just keep him from completing his mission. No more, no less. { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

[SteelFeathers - he gonna get slapped] “ you’re like a forbidden fruit when i can’t touch you ~ kind of sexy ”  - ✩ { @aflockoffeathers } ✩

{ ☆ } Feathers is less-than-thrilled with her assigned babysitter partner. Something that she doesn’t make any attempts to hide, believing that— in certain instances —being upfront with one’s disdain is the better course of action. The minx of a cardinal might have her fair share of experience leading others on and using her wiles for her advantage, but when it comes to Steelbeak... there’s nothing to be obtained from encouraging his attention.

Nothing that’d be worth the headache and nausea of watching the perverted prick parade around like the overcompensating man he is... and yet, even her attempts at shoving him away only seem to draw him in further. Whether she succumbs or resists, there doesn’t seem to be any way to win this dangerous dance of desire. And yet, the cardinal is determined to find one. The thought of losing to HIM— to that prime example of an ‘alpha’ —spurring her on, fanning the flames of her stubbornness and resentment. 

Little comments like THAT certainly provide adequate fuel... 

Feathers bristling at the other’s words, breath is sucked in slightly as shoulders tense, a flash of annoyance striking teal hues before Feathers abruptly turns around to face the rooster. Despite her diminutive size and his looming nature, she is quick to even the field— a hand snapping out with the agility of a snake, grasping Steel’s shirt and YANKING him down to better meet her eyes. Going from a flicker of roaring flame to a cold, calm, concerning gaze... lids are halfway lowered, long lashes shadowing as she quietly muses,  ❝  Careful, Agent Steelbeak...  ❞  

❝  Keep attempting to indulge, and you may choke~  ❞  Releasing the other’s clothes with a firm shove, she then flips her hair with a soft huff. Smoothly turning on her heel, the sharp clicks of her steps fill the air during even strides, Feathers not rushing to get away or showing any concern for whatever result her actions may have had... If Steel happens to be upset about the rough treatment, well— frankly, the excuse to rid herself of this problem under a guise of ‘self-defence’ wouldn’t be the worst thing. { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

✩ { @aflockoffeathers​​​ } ✩ - Continued from ★

{ ☆ } Eyes close and a content hum slips out when a hand rubs against his back, arching into the touch. Feathers fluff underneath Steelbeak’s fingers, the plush texture warm and thick for his comfort. Tail lightly wagging, cheeks flood with more heat at Steel’s tease, overwhelmed with deep rose as Fenton opens his eyes to meet that glittering gaze. Hazel hues awash with want— one that goes far deeper than mere physical lust —they sheepishly avert at the mention of being ‘fucked’ so good, Fenton squirming beneath Steelbeak’s  touch. 

Breath hitches when he feels something hard— in more ways than one —pressing against his entrance, the sensitive hole already stretched— as much as the naturally tight hole can be —and still slick from when Steel had filled him earlier. Feathers stained and clumped with the rooster’s seed, they are mussed even further by the large male’s teasing. Giggling lightly at the sound of Steelbeak’s trilling, body wriggles beneath his partner, rear rubbing the thick length against him. Fenton’s own is already hardening in anticipation, resting gently against a tawny belly as it beads with pre.

The kiss to his temple, the tender words, the way Steelbeak teases him... it all serves to further excite Fenton, adrenaline already raising. Breathing growing quick for a different reason than exhaustion, feathers puff in an instinctive attempt to be more comfortable, more pleasing to the rooster, the small duck vulnerable and in need beneath Steelbeak. Hands raising to card through hackle feathers, fingers glide in the silky plumage as Fenton says,  ❝  Yes please, Steely...  ❞  Toying with his plumage, wanting to feel Steelbeak against him, puppy dog gaze is donned without even meaning to,  ❝  I can handle it... I can handle anything you want...  ❞

Knowing that the rooster likes having his ego inflated, and enjoying when he can make his partner feel as special as possible, Fenton praises the rooster even as his cheeks flush and his heart hammers in his chest,  ❝  You make me feel so good, Steely... You’re so strong and attentive~ You feel so amazing... Please make me feel like that again and again~  ❞  Pressing against Steel’s cock, muscles clench with desire at it being so close, his dick twitching against his plumage. Figuring that Steelbeak may be a fan of this, the small duck adorably purrs,  ❝  Por favor, Papi~  ❞   { ☆ }  

[ducktales-wco-oo]

“I have wrapped like 200 presents and I am still not done," Steelbeak sighs, fingers sore as he cracks his knuckles, "With spoilin' the kid, Spike, ya's, an' gettin' everyone at F.O.W.L somethin', I got at least 500 hundred things t' wrap." The Rooster always got things for his fellow agents, it was getting things for a family that added extra on; not that he was complaining. The rooster soon smiles up at Bushroot, "Feel like helpin' Bushy-boo?"

- ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​ } ✩

{ ☆ } Steelbeak has been wrapping presents for what seems like hours, and as Bushroot looks out at the sea of boxes he’s surrounded by, the end doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight... Having finished tending to his plants, Reggie had decided to see how Steely was doing. Evidently, not very well. A long whistle escapes at the sight, the plant duck offering a sympathetic—  ❝  Yeesh...  ❞  as he took a seat beside the rooster, instinctively nestling against his side despite knowing he’ll have to scoot away later. If only to provide ample present-wrapping room.

Nuzzling his cheek against Steel, leafy tail wags giddily as he replies through a light laugh,  ❝  Of course I’ll help, Steely-kins!~  ❞  Nickname flowing forth with enough sap to cover a stack of pancakes, the dusting of a blush on his face makes it clear that the one aimed his way was more than appreciated. Turning his head, several kisses are peppered against Steel’s neck as if it’s been days since they’ve seen each other rather than literal hours. Humming happily, beak is nestled into hackle feathers,  ❝  With us working together, I’m sure we’ll be finished in no time.  ❞  

As he speaks, vines are already bringing boxes over to them, holding them in place and gathering together some more rolls of wrapping paper and festive bows to choose from. Grabbing a box, Bushroot is quick to get to work, humming a little Christmas tune to himself— shaking a leafy hand for a moment to free it from some troublesome sticky tape —as he wraps the present. A few minutes pass in pleasant company, Reggie occasionally peeking over at Steelbeak to make sure he’s engrossed in wrapping, before the small plant-duck playfully says in a drawn-out voice,

❝  You knooooow... The sooner we finish wrapping, the sooner you can unwrap one of your gifts early...  ❞  Nudging Steelbeak with his elbow, Reggie smiles up at him with a dorky blush, feathers puffed and a Christmas bow adorning his neck, bright red fabric showing up against lush green feathers. Was he waiting for Steelbeak to be distracted by gift wrapping just to sneak in this joke/flirt? Yes... Of course he was. Unfortunately that doesn’t stop him from sheepishly adding, a hand fiddling with the bow—

❝  I mean... It’s more or less just taking off a bow, but— I figure that still counts as unwrapping, right?  ❞  { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

[SteelMark] “ how much longer do i have to keep swallowing my desires for you. 

- ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​​ } ✩

{ ☆ } Steelbeak is definitely persistent... and confounding as Hell. Honestly, Mark still doesn’t know how he feels about the rooster. Their first few impressions had been FAR from the best. But since then, Steel has been... better? Aside from the whole breaking-into-his-house-and-watching-him-bathe thing. Then again, as someone who has cyber-stalked his fair share of people, he supposed he can’t judge him too harshly for his actions. Right? It’s pretty much the same thing, just irl. Doesn’t stop him from feeling on-edge about the whole thing, constantly peeking around doorways semi-expecting to be met with that handsome yet intimidating sight.

He can still recall how it felt for Steel to yank him up by his shirt, murder practically burning in his eyes.

Swallowing thickly, feathers ruffle as he anxiously grips his arm and looks off to the side, debating whether or not he should subtly inch towards his office doors. He doesn’t want to risk inviting the other’s anger again– a fear that Mark can’t seem to shake off, regardless of how much time passes since the incident and murder of his guards —but he also doesn’t feel very comfortable engaging in THIS conversation. In having to provide an answer to a question he doubts he’ll be able to dodge any longer... Does Steelbeak want a solid timeframe? A deadline? Normally, Mark is surprisingly good with those. Is surprisingly punctual and organized when it comes to certain parts of his life, be it meetings or coffee orders... 

But this- ... this is uncharted territory. 

❝  I- ... I don’t know, okay?  ❞  Mark finally says after what feels like an ungodly amount of silence, even though it couldn’t have been more than a minute or so. Closing his eyes, feathers bristle as he huffs a frustrated breath and more urgently says,  ❝  I don’t have a frickin’ clue. There. There, I said it. I said it and it’s out there and now- now you just... Now we gotta deal with it, I guess.  ❞  Grip on his arm releases to run through his headfeathers instead, Mark opening his eyes to look up at Steelbeak through a wince,  ❝  Look- Steelbeak... Puh-lease don’t get mad about what I’m gonna say, alright? Just- Please don’t hurt me...  ❞

With that, a nervous chuff of a laugh slips out, gaze averted and fingers digging into his feathers as he rapidly murmurs,  ❝  Oh my G... I shouldn’t even be having to say that, but I guess THIS is the dynamic.  ❞  It’s not like he has much of a choice in the matter. From the start he’s just been along for the ride. Coughing into a closed fist, arms then move to hug himself, fingers tugging at the sleeves of his cardigan,  ❝  You’ve been... You’ve been great lately. A real stand-up guy. Like- THE kinda guy I used to fantasize about having interested in me. Back when I was lonely and- and closeted as shiz and... heh, and everything just suuuuuucked... You were pretty much the dream guy.  ❞

Cheeks dust with warmth at the embarrassing admission, mouth running on its own accord as he averts his gaze to the side, shuffling anxiously in place as a thread is torn free from his sleeve,  ❝  But you’re also... intense as Hell. I mean- Dude, I half-expect to see you every time I turn the corner. And not gonna lie, I’m still only fifty-fifty about whether you’re gonna eventually grow sick of me and just- dump my body in a ditch or something.  ❞  Frankly, he doubts that it’d be something even as complex as that. Steel would probably just end him here and now and leave his Janitor to clean up the mess, like what happened the last time people were killed in Waddle Headquarters. Shaking his head and waving his hands in front of himself, feathers ruffle as the parrot panics,  ❝  Nothing against you! I KNOW I’m a lot and you are NOT the first person who’s threatened my life! Not even close!  ❞  

...  ❝  I’m just.. I’m scared, alright?  ❞  

Swallowing thickly, he takes a small step back, heart pounding in his chest as blue hues raise to finally meet the other’s gaze, uncertain what it is that he’ll find reflected in it,  ❝  I- I don’t know why you’re so into me... and I don’t know how much you actually DO want me or just- want to win. And- and what if when you finally do... get me... What then? Are you just gonna up and leave once you’ve finished using me? Or are you gonna stick around for a bit and THEN leave when I’m not worth being around anymore?  ❞  Granted, one would think that Mark would want the rooster to leave him alone, and a big part of him does. But another part can’t stand the thought of being used... of knowing that he was used... Of allowing that to happen again.

❝  And... And if you for some reason really do like me-like me... I- ...  ❞  Another swallow, another hitch of his breathing and ruffle of his feathers, eyes widening as the memory of being hoisted up flashes vividly in his mind. Mingling with other instances, from his father... from bullies... ‘friends’ and crushes alike... Threatening him, grabbing him, hitting him. Being afraid and always wondering when the next instance would occur, just anticipating someone revealing that they have no qualms laying hands on him either.  ❝  I’m gonna make you mad again... I know I will. Heck, m-maybe I already have... and then- then you’re gonna get that scary look and- and I’ll get picked up, only THIS time...  ❞  Voice shaking, Mark doesn’t even realize that his body is following suit, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes as he weakly states,  ❝  You’ll hurt me.  ❞  

❝  And- And I can’t let people hurt me... Not anymore...  ❞  He can’t be afraid again. { ☆ }        

[ducktales-wco-oo]

[MarkSteel] 🛀 (he probably broke in lets be honest)  - ✩ { @aflockoffeathers } ✩

{ ☆ } Mark is... stressed.

Stressed and confused and frightened and kinda horny and- Just, a menagerie of emotions and thoughts that refuse to stay still for a meager total of two seconds. Even as he soaks in the bathtub in a futile effort to quell the nauseating twisting in his gut, Mark feels a pit in his stomach. Can feel the lingering sense of dread that follows him around now, nagging at him that he’s avoiding the problem. Running away, rather than facing it like a man. A sentiment both his dad and Abuelita had in common, one of the VERY few... 

Albeit, spoken in very different tones and with differing goals.

One strove to make his son less of a pansy wimp, whilst the other merely wanted Mark to be prepared to face any challenge, knowing full-well that the world would throw an abundance his way. Although, she likely hadn’t expected one of the challenges to be quite like THIS.

With a heavy sigh, Mark slips further down into his large bathtub, hot water raising up to his chin as he closes his eyes and tries to relax. Beak twitches as bubbles tickle at it, brows knitting with annoyance as he emits a small growl. With a puff of air, head abruptly ducks under, water splashing over the sides and a surplus of pastel bubbles— tinted a rose hue to match the delicate scent adorning them —flowing in tandem, he then bursts out with a gasp.

Headfeathers falling messily over his face, hands run through them to push them back and out of his eyes. Moving downward, they card through chest feathers in an attempt to remove any kinks. Continuing their steady descent across his lithe form, spine twists slightly as he runs his fingers through silky feathers, massaging in the conditioner and expensive bath salts littering his sudsy water. Humming lightly and peppering in some content sighs as he feels his tense muscles loosen, the parrot unknowingly puts on quite a show...

It isn’t until he’s reaching over for a scrub brush to really get into his silvery plumage, that he takes notice of his audience. With a startled yelp— he did not emit a ‘girly’ scream... he did NOT —arms flail as he scrambles back. Or rather, attempts to. Slipping in his tub and head ducking under the water, Mark bursts out of the suds, eyes closed, and sputtering as he shakes his head. Rubbing at his eyes to prevent them from stinging, they blink open to aim a bleary gaze at Steelbeak. Face aflame and feathers disheveled in all their soapy glory, he breathlessly stammers, “Wh-What the- How the- Why the- Y-You’re in my-” Racing to press himself against the side of the tub, ducking lower in the bubbly water, he peers over the rum, hands grabbing the edge, “Dude, I’m in the bath!”

Too startled and indignant to be properly frightened like he’d normally be, especially with WHO he is talking to, Mark continues to whine. With a pout tugging at his beak, matching adorably with the scarlet blush bright enough to match his hidden tailfeathers, he huffily adds, “Uh- Privacy much? Seriously, Steely—” He’s never called him THAT before. “—for such a ‘suave’ guy, your manners can really suck sometimes...” { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

[SteelBush] regress [as sad as that was baby bushie was too adorable ;3;]

- ✩ { @aflockoffeathers } ✩

{ ☆ } Welp… He actually did it. He up and ran away from the orphanage. True, this isn’t the first time Reggie has fled the crowded and frightening frustrating place. But the minuscule duckling is determined for it to be the LAST. Because this time, he is not going to chicken out and run home back as soon as nightfall comes. Mainly because this time, he might have wandered a bit too far… And now he doesn’t know how to get back even if he wanted to.

Stumbling with a raggedy backpack slung on his shoulder— carting various notebooks, seed packets, and cracked science equipment he couldn’t abandon to those rowdy kids —Reggie scrambles over upturned roots, through scratchy brambles, onto treacherous rocks... Clambering forward, labored pants puff out of the diminutive duckling. Ebony locks growing disheveled, some strands stick to his dampened forehead, an arm wiping away beads of sweat with his oversized sleeve. Still, he keeps moving forward. He can’t afford to stop... There’s nothing around him but trees. Trees and foliage as far as the eye can see.

Normally, he’d be calmed by this. Comforted by the absence of people who can hurt him. But with nightfall lingering ever-closer, and those comforting trees creating some very non-comforting shadows stretching out towards him, all he wants is some sign of... something. A house, a friendly face, a clue to where the orphanage is. Something to offer a shred of hope that he won’t be spending the night hunkered against a tree. 

Swallowing thickly, blue hues wander around as his grip on backpack straps grow tighter, knuckles turning pale beneath snowy plumage. Trembling lightly, a voice hesitantly calls out into the expanse of nature, despite not having much faith in a response, “H-Hello? Is... Is anyone out there?” He weakly calls, voice cracking with a yelp when a twig snaps under his foot. Scrambling away from the sudden sound, he frantically stumbles back as leaves slip from beneath his feet. Arms flailing and a startled quack slipping out, he lands on his rear with an ‘oof’ and a thud. Wincing at the dull ache, he blinks a few times to try and clear his misty vision, bitter tears starting to brim within them. “A-Anyone?”

Sniffing, Reggie scooches until his back hits a tree trunk, legs hugged to his chest and chin resting atop of his knees as his frightened gaze looks around, “... Please?” The minuscule duckling whimpers before burying his head into his knees, shoulders shaking... { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

Steelbeak looks the other, well, him, over. Crossing his arms, the rooster leans against a nearby desk, teal tail feathers twitching slightly, "S', what kinda F.O.W.L bullshit is this?" He asks, accusingly, "'Cause 'onestly I am not drunk 'nough t' deal with anythin' t' d' with them right now." It's not even noon, but Steelbeak never cared. Amber eyes remain on the other rooster though, feathers slightly fluffed in defence, "Well? Ya's gonna yap with that beak of ya's or not?"  - ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​ } ✩

{ ☆ } This is a stupid idea... Not that Steelbeak could say that. Literally unable to speak out against his bosses when they mulled over this little plan, right in front of him as if he wasn’t even THERE, he had been forced to watch and listen in disbelief as they revealed their ability to bring over another better him. Someone capable of creating results instead of disaster, of ‘using their brain’ and the kind of competence F.O.W.L desperately needs. By the time the conversation was over, Steel wasn’t certain they wouldn’t just replace him with the bastard. Thankfully, some universal mumbo-jumbo that he tuned out quickly nixed that opportunity.

So, here he is... Huffily leaning against the wall, arms crossed and feathers bristled as he grinds his beak— an anxious tick of his —to fill the air as he awaits his unknowing ‘teacher’. There’s no one else in the room that’s been specially set aside for this little meet-cute, to prevent any collateral damage that matters if the other him decides to get violent. Not that Steel is concerned in the slightest about that possibility. He’s dealt with far worse than some two-bit doppelganger. FAR worse. Fingers lightly drumming against his arms, brows furrow and beak scrunches when the ‘guest of honor’ finally arrives... About fucking time.

The moment the other male speaks, Steel raises a brow. What. The. Fuck. Ebony hues flicker up and down the other’s form; taking in their differences, sizing him up, figuring the best way to take him down if need be. All instinctively happening at once, Steel accustomed to having to analyze people at a glance. From how they hold themselves to their slightest of movements, keen eyes have learned to catch it all as best he can. For survival’s sake... Unfortunately for him, that skill doesn’t exactly show up on a F.O.W.L written test. If he could solve some random-ass equation with a look, THEN maybe they’d be impressed. 

On the streets or in an organization, it’s all the same. 

“The fuck is with your voice?” Steel untactfully asks, gaze quizzically focusing on the other male’s face. Brow quirked and a grimace on his face, taken aback by such an... interesting dialect behind heard from his metal beak, more or less. Kind of on the shrimpy side, isn’t it? Tail feathers raise in an instinctive challenge at having another rooster in the vicinity, hackle feathers puffing before he shakes his head and forces them down. No need to escalate things if it can be avoided. Unfortunately, he can’t take back that blatant statement that flowed out without warning... but he can try and be a bit more mindful as he continues.

“Ya know what? Nevermind. I don’t care.” Oh yeah... This is going to go great. “Look. I’m not happy about this either, but if your bosses are anything like mine- You know that doesn’t amount to shit.” He gruffly says, pushing himself away from the wall to take a couple stiff steps towards the other male. Trying his best to seem unconfrontational, he clasps his hands behind his back, shoulders tense and words coming out curtly, “So just shut your yap and try to pay attention, ‘kay babe?” People skills flawless as ever, he continues, “My bosses seem to think that I can learn a thing or two from you... and until that happens, weeeeeeell...” 

Shrugging in a ‘what can ya do?’ manner, gaze is unimpressedly half-lidded with the sight in front of him as he bluntly states, “Seems to me that you’re stuck here, Hot Shot.” { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

"Look Steelbeak," Steel hisses, ignoring how weird it feels to say his own name, "I may 'ave a bit of an accent, an' all that, but at least I aint so fuckin' stupid that my own bosses 'ad t' abduct another version of mysel' t' show me how t' be competent at my own god damn job." He glares at the other, scowling hard, "Keep makin' fun of me, I keep doin' it t' ya's, so I advise ya's t' keep that damn beak of ya's shut." (My Steelbeak has chosen death today)  - ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​​​​​ } ✩

{ ☆ } Maybe he shouldn’t have made fun of Chanticleer the other him for his intriguing voice. Maybe he should have choked back his hurtful retort and just kept his big beak shut. Maybe he should have tried to be the bigger man and de-escalate things... Well, MAYBE he‘s sick and tired of ‘keeping his steel trap shut’ both willingly and unwillingly ever since this guy waltzed in and showed him up. With Chanti’s overconfidence and commanding presence, his suave nature, and knack for sliding out of any situation and into anyone. 

Fucked up voice or not, this guy manages to make a person weak with a mere trill and win the favor— of as close to ‘favor’ as those old buzzards are capable of giving —of his new bosses with a few bullshit words. He manages to command troops with hardly any trouble, pull off jobs with barely a bump, be given the CHANCE to prove himself again and again...

Steel can’t could do that! He could spout out some smooth-talk and smart-sounding phrases if just given the chance! Or a few chances, depending on how flustered off-his-game he might be. Could complete jobs without disaster following close behind. Could give orders rather than keep getting them, if allowed opportunities more in-tune with his skill set, instead of being pawned off to people who do nothing but belittle and misuse him. He could be someone GREAT! A Top Agent just like the bastard in front of him. Be more than the unwanted, underappreciated, underestimated— overlooked... WORTHLESS...

He’s so much more than that. He knows he is... and no one, especially not HIMSELF, is going to tell him otherwise. Meeting Chanti’s glare with burning ebony eyes, fist clench so tightly that knuckles crack warningly. Feathers bristle threateningly, hackle feathers puffing outward to make his already intimidating form bigger. Grinding his teeth, jagged edges of his beak scrape in a grating sound. Still, it doesn’t drown out the other male’s words- ‘so fuckin’ stupid’ Eyes widen at THAT word, feathers giving a final puff and breath catching in his throat as well as a familiar lump forming in it, before brows lower dangerously.

Trembling with rage, vision seems to grow red, the other rooster illuminated in his sights as the world dims aside from... HIM. That god damn cocky, show-off, who has the gall to look down on him. He might have been forced to take it from his parents, from the world, and now even from F.O.W.L... but there’s no way in Hell that he’s going to take it from Country Boi here. At the final statement— the comment about keeping his beak shut being the last straw —fist rears back without any warning, entire body twisting to put more force behind the blow before striking out with surprising speed. With unpolished but BRUTAL skill, learned from years of grueling Underground Fighting, large fist rams against the other’s metal beak.

“I’M NOT STUPID!” 

Despite being smaller than his, it still hurts when it makes contact with his knuckles— blood splattering across Chanit’s face and staining Steel’s pale yellow feathers —but Steel doesn’t even flinch. Force unhindered by the bolt of pain— he’s felt far worse —punch finishes its motion, throwing his body forward and allowing his other one to strike immediately afterward with devastating precision, slamming directly into the other rooster’s cheek. The feeling of a face making contact with his fist, the dull ache that hints his hand, his ragged breathing and crazed glare and boiling blood, adrenaline rushing through his veins...

Feels kinda like old times. { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

❝ LOTUS ❞ for SteelBush [because it would be a crime if I didn't send these two the one which is not only named after a flower but a position good for cuddling nakjsdnkja] 

- ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​ } ✩

✩ { Meme​ } ✩

- Send ❝ LOTUS ❞ for our muses in the lotus position. 

{ ☆ } Steelbeak has introduced Reggie to many, MANY different experiences. Especially when it comes to ones of intimate nature. Tools, toys... positions. Naturally, when Reggie heard the word ‘Lotus’— a sheepish smile on his face and cheeks growing ever-flushed as Steel casually listed off different ones they could try like he was reading from a menu —his demeanor had completely changed. Eyes widening with a gasp, feathers had puffed and leafy hands clasped together as blue hues sparkled with excitement, with an eagerness overflowing from his tone as he exclaimed, “That one! I want to try THAT one!”  

He hadn't even known anything about it aside from the floral name... but once carefully guided through the positioning, he immediately knew it’d be one of his FAVORITES.

Sitting on Steelbeak’s lap, legs are snugly wrapped around his waist, large arms securely holding Reggie close. Hands resting on Steel’s shoulders, he closes his eyes and sucks in a breath as the rooster gingerly slides into him, not wanting to hurt him despite the thorough preparation they’d done earlier. Steel is always so good about that... So few people care about Reggie’s well-being. Feathers ruffling at the start, he wriggles his body around to get more comfortable on his perch, biting his bottom lip at the feeling of the FULLNESS within him shifting around. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, just unfamiliar in this position. But once he’s properly situated, eyes peek open, a soft sigh escaping-

-cut off by a sharp gasp when Steel playfully rolls his hips.

Feathers fluffed and face adorned with vibrant light green, bashful giggles bubble out from the surprised sound, Reggie’s gaze instinctively averting to the side... until a hand is placed against his face, thumb brushing his cheek feathers as Steel tenderly guides his gaze to meet his. Blue hues alight with ADORATION and desire, embarrassed fluttering within his stomach migrates to his chest, accompanying his pattering heart as leafy hands slide down Steel’s back. Vine arms grow to wrap around the rooster’s torso, Steel’s arms bringing him closer against a puffed chest, Reggie sinking contentedly into soft feathers. 

Looking upward through a heavily-lidded gaze, tail is wagging rapidly at the embrace alone, beak nestling deeper into hackle feathers as his own plumage fluffs in tandem, trying to be as comfortable as possible for Steel to hold. Biting his bottom lip when Steel starts to move his hips once more, eyes squeeze shut and hold tightens as Reggie responds. Grinding against Steel’s lap, dick throbs as it nestles into plumage, clumping feathers with sap. Neither pays the mess any mind, too enraptured by the feeling of their forms meshing PERFECTLY.

Rubbing and rolling his hips, stimulating his wooden cock and toying with the metal one firmly inside of him, Reggie whimpers into feathers. Moaning softly through labored breaths as his hold on Steel grows tighter, wanting to melt against him, be completely absorbed into his hold and never released... He can faintly hear praise and sweet-nothings murmured against his lavender tufts, soft kisses peppered atop of his head and ghosting across his stamen; the loving, steady rhythm of Steel’s hips not faltering. Pulling out of hackle feathers— hearing a small sound of confusion at the distance —arms grow yet again, remaining wrapped around Steel’s torso, but allowing him to carefully tug Steel’s face downward-

-and capture it in a kiss. { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

Steelbeak crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow upon seeing Bushroot wearing one of his jumpers; the rare thing that isn't a suit he owned. Good thing he planned for his clothing to be 'borrowed', "You may have stolen my sweater, but I learned to buy doubles.” 

- ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​​ } ✩

{ ☆ } Since mutating himself, Reggie doesn’t really wear clothes anymore. Unless he’s going outside and requires camouflage to hopefully be unnoticed, or it’s a special occasion and he wants to look nice. Otherwise, he normally walks around in nothing but soft plumage. However, with the weather becoming chillier and he being more susceptible to the cold now, he’s gotten into the habit of... borrowing clothes from Steelbeak.

Could he simply steal some clothes for himself? Yes. But Steel’s clothes are so much better than the plain ol’ ones in the store! After all, they’re covered with the scent of his feathers and cologne. Washing over Reggie and making him feel like he’s being enveloped in his partner’s strong arms, held against his warm body even when they are apart. Which is why when FOWL missions started growing more frequent, it became even more common for the rooster to walk into a plant-duck snuggled up in his clothes waiting for him to come home. 

Like now...

Turning around at the sound of the penthouse doors, bright blue hues and a giddy smile are quick to meet Steelbeak. Feathers fluffed and small form buried in his favorite sweater, long sleeves covering leafy hands, he scrambles over to Steelbeak, nearly tripling thanks to the bulky sweater covering him. In fact, it seems a bit TOO bulky. Arms wrap around Steel’s waist, face enthusiastically nuzzling the rooster’s body. Steel’s previous words nearly going unanswered thanks to Reggie’s euphoria at having his boyfriend home again. 

However, after a moment or two of nuzzles— tail wagging frantically and leafy arms wrapping around Steel’s body multiple more times, the statement is finally met with a drawn-out, “Heh... Yeah, about that...” Peeking up at the larger male, cheeks are overtaken with a light green hue, feathers and lavender tufts puffing, “It’s super cold today...” Yeah? “And, being part plant, I feel it really intensely...” And? “Sooooooooo...” Cheek rests against Steelbeak, lashes fluttering adorably as Reggie shoots him some puppy dog eyes to help soften the blow of what he’s about to confess, “I’m kind of wearing two sweaters right now.”

Better start buying triples Steelbeak.

Cue a brief quiet, before— “But if you’re cold too, we can always cuddle~” Normally he’d offer to do something else to warm up. Later, he’s GOING to. But right now, the sweaters are so soft and toasty... and he’s been yearning to sink into hackle feathers all day. { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

[SteelBush] "What is it with people watching me sleep? There will be no more watching me sleep!"  - ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​​ } ✩

{ ☆ } Bushroot hadn’t meant to startle Steelbeak... but unfortunately, that’s what happened. The rooster had just looked so cute as he slept, a different kind of attractive than the suave demeanor he normally has. With feathers lightly puffed and mouth slightly agape, relaxed and content. The way he slightly fidgeted, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft coos that sometimes slipped out... Reggie was entranced, and suddenly all thoughts of rest wasn’t so appealing anymore. Besides, it’s not as if he NEEDS it.

Getting most of his energy from the sunlight, sleep is something that, while helpful, isn’t necessary. Honestly, he didn’t partake in it nearly as much until he met Steelbeak. Turns out, having someone to snuggle at night makes it a much more enjoyable pastime. But this time, he chooses to sit beside his boyfriend, cross-legged on the bed as he gazes down at his slumbering face. Leaning in close, wide-eyed and beaming, he places leafy hands over his beak in an attempt to stifle the giddy squees that try to slip out. Cheeks and feathers puffing, a high pitched noise of delight still manages to slip through.

Steel is just... God he loves him so much.

Squirming like someone looking at a sleeping puppy instead of F.O.W.L’s most dangerous agent, tail rapidly wags and thumps against the bed, joining in on the symphony off adoration as he leans down even closer towards Steelbeak’s face— only to fall back with a startled quack when the rooster groggily opens his eyes and immediately cries out with surprise. Thankfully, stumbling back managed to stop Reggie from getting punched when Steel instinctively lashed out. Unfortunately, he ended up rolling off the bed... 

-and collapsing onto the floor in a disheveled heap.

Groaning as he sits up and rubs his aching head, an eye peeks open with a wince. Steel’s words faintly get through the light drumming in his ears— ‘What is it with people watching me sleep? There will be no more watching me sleep!’ —feathers mussed and cheeks stained a vivid green as he retorts, “But, Steeeeeel... You’re so cute when you sleep!” Standing up and hopping onto the bed beside his frazzled boyfriend, blue hues are locked on amber in a puppy-dog gaze, “What if I promise not to make so much noise next time? Or- Or I could even be in another room if you’d like!”

Vines arms pleadingly wrapping around Steelbeak, cheek presses against his chest as royal blue hues look upward, a small pout tugging at Bushroot’s beak, “I’ll do whatever you want me to, just- please let me watch you sleep?” A... strange request, but one that’d be difficult for Steelbeak to say no to, with a small plant-duck adorably clinging to him. { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

Steelbeak can feel his eye twitch as he see's Bushroot. He'd tried to keep calm, simply focus his energy onto helped them. But he's had enough now, and no amount of cute nick-names or puppy-dog eyes are going to qualm his anger. First though, he has to heal Bushie. Then he can go out and avenge them. He cradles them, kissing their cheek, "Don't worry babe," Voice grows cold and dark, feathers bristling as he tugs Bushroot closer “i’ll make sure no one ever hurts ya's again,,,"  - ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​​ } ✩

{ ☆ } Bushroot is exhausted, to say the least. Exhausted, sore, terrified, frustrated, guilt-ridden- A million sickening emotions that battle viciously inside of him in an attempt to dominate his senses. A battle that right now, they ALL seem to be winning. After having stumbled home to Steelbeak’s penthouse, nearly getting lost a few times thanks to the muddled state of his mind, all Reggie wants is to be held by his boyfriend. To sink into the other’s soft abundance of hackle feathers and feel protected. Feel like the maniacal duck he’s forced to call a boss can’t hurt him anymore. As false a feeling as that might be. 

Which he gets to do, for the most part... Immediately surrendering to Steelbeak’s embrace, the battered plant-duck emits a shaky sigh, still trembling from the excess fear coursing through his body. Ruffled feathers slowly, hesitantly start to lay flat as he buries his face against Steel’s neck, sinking into his feathers as arms tightly hold around the rooster; growing longer so that he can wrap around him twice, as if afraid that if his hold is too loose, Steel will slip right out of it. However, as his face meets feathers, he isn’t met with their usual fluffed texture. But rather, ones bristled in anger... and a tone that is far too cold for comfort.

Oh no.

Pulling away, out of the coarse texture and to better look at Steelbeak, brows knit together with worry, his own feathers ruffling as he quickly blurts out, “S-Steely, really you don’t have to do anything! I’m fine!” He’s not. He’s clearly not. He is PAINFULLY, clearly not. Realizing this, Reggie is quick to backtrack, stumbling over his words as soft and disheveled feathers ruffle further, “O-Okay... I’m not. B-But I’m going to get better! I just need a bit of rest and sunlight and I’ll regrow stronger than ever! It’ll be like this never happened...” Not exactly, though. While his body might fix itself, the fear that envelops him whenever he’s in the presence of his ‘boss’, won’t fade. Neither will the fact that he’s stuck being ordered around and mistreated by the waterfowl. Or that even when he’s AWAY from Negaduck...

... the nightmares and paranoia never let him forget it for long.

Arms retract from around Steel to grasp at the front of his shirt instead, clutching the fabric as he pleadingly gazes up at the protective rooster, “Please don’t do anything stupid... I- I don’t want you to get hurt.” Voice cracks, tears brimming in his (puppy-dog) eyes— well, the one that isn’t swollen shut thanks to a fist previously colliding with it. Sure, Reggie knows that Steel puts his life at risk nearly all the time thanks to his job. Being a F.O.W.L agent isn’t a walk in the park, after all. But, there’s just something... unsettling about Negaduck.

About what he can do. What he has no problems doing... ENJOYS doing.

 “Please, Steely-kins...” He whimpers, desperately trying to qualm the other’s anger like he’s been able to do in the past. But a sinking feeling in his gut tells him that this time, he might not be able to. “I can always just regrow myself if things get too bad, but YOU can’t.” { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

[SteelBush] "Memories of Sorrow"  - ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​​ } ✩

✩ { Meme​ } ✩

{ ☆ } He can’t help but feel... bad. About what happened to Steel- Chanticleer’s chickens, about fading away before he could console the distraught child, about going into that memory in the first place— maybe it would have been better for Steelbeak to discover the chickens alone, not having to endure the loss of his dear friends AND a brand new one within mere minutes of each other —and for not being able to offer much aside from soft kisses against the top of Steel’s head and vine-arms wrapping tightly around him in return.

Some time passes like this, Reggie wracking his brain for something that might lift his boyfriend’s mood. Might help take Steel away from the horrible memory he’d accidentally caused the rooster to relive, spirit him from the terrible thunderstorm that relentlessly rages on... and then it hits him. Lightbulb practically appearing above his head, he nervously smiles down at Steel and tentatively asks, “Hey... Uh, Steely?” Or can he call him Chanticleer now? ... Chanti? That’s a question best left ‘til later. "Do you... still want to see li’l Bushie?”

… 

It takes a bit of reassuring that he’s perfectly fine with Steelbeak going into his memories, more or less. Reggie waving his hand dismissively and barking out an awkward laugh at the thought that he WOULDN’T want Steel to... observe his past... at a random point in time... possibly altering the future and destroying the happiest and healthiest relationship he’s ever been in. Okay. It takes a bit of convincing, a smidge of his temper, and unfairly effective puppy-dog eyes— paired with leafy hands cupping the rooster’s cheeks, the tip of his beak touching Steel’s as he elaborates on how it’s ‘not fair’ if they don’t use the machine ONE more time —before the troublesome chips are finally back on their hands.

Albeit, switched... 

With a deep, shuddery breath, that poses some concerns, he prepares for Steel to witness something from his past. Whatever it is, he can only hope that it’s as mundane and non-humiliating as possible. Good luck. Noticing the other male’s mouth start to open, worry abundant in amber hues, he quickly acts before Steelbeak has a chance to call it off. Rushing forward, beak presses against his boyfriend’s in a slightly-panicked kiss, as if it is the last one they get to share. Depending on what memory Steel finds, it very well might be...

… ✩ … ✩ … ✩ … ✩ … ✩ … ✩ … ✩ … ✩ … ✩ … ✩ …

The house is big... REALLY big. Surprisingly so, considering the financial trouble Bushroot always seems to be in. Even before the incident that transformed him, the male was heavily dependent on the money of others. Which doesn’t bode well for any familial relations he might have towards whoever lives in the manor—well-maintained, except for a few cracks along the walls and an overgrown yard that stretches out toward the edge of a forest. It’s a secluded place that seems as if it would be rather peaceful to live... if not for the echoing of loud children from within the high walls. Strange... Reggie never mentioned siblings.

But Steel doesn’t have time to ponder the scene or the strangers within, because trekking along outside of the house towards the deep woodland, is the reason for his visit.

Head darting from side to side, as if wanting to make sure he isn’t being followed, a duckling scampers through the tall grass. Unfortunately, he’s not all too observant because Steel is able to follow with comical ease. Despite not being part-plant, those bright royal blue hues are proof enough of who the child is. But even if that wasn’t, a familiar mop of hair is atop his head. No longer lavender, but shaggy and tuft-like all the same, thick ebony locks that messily bob along as he nearly slips on the dewdrop covered ground. From the thick scent of lingering rain in the air and the muddiness of their journey— the duckling slipping and sliding, but miraculously not falling yet —it seems like a storm has just passed.

The journey continues for a few moments before nature finally sends the duckling tumbling to the ground. Tripping on an upturned root, a startled quack escapes the boy before he is violently rolling along the ground into a nearby tree. With a heavy thud and a pathetic whimper, the boy lays flat on the ground, beak quivering and eyes groggily fluttering... before they suddenly snap open wide, surprise evident in them at the sight of a hand offering to help him up. Gaze raises to look at the stranger, a loud gasp escaping the duckling as he shakily quickly accepts the hand and stands up. Frantically dusting himself off and running his hands through his disheveled locks, he then abruptly straightens his posture. 

Shoulders tense and arms stiff at his sides, chest puffs out as the diminutive boy tries to make himself seem taller, bigger, more impressive. Gazing up with wide eyes, beak is slightly agape at the other’s fancy attire and well-groomed feathers... Rich. This guy HAS to be rich. Not that it matters; he could be poor as dirt and Reggie would still be ecstatic a the sight of a visitor. Shaking his head when he realizes that he is staring, pale white cheeks flush with embarrassment, soft down feathers fluffing to impossible size as he quickly extends his hand to shake the adult’s, “H-Hello, sir! My name is Reginald! Reginald Bushroot!”

Voice is small and squeaky with nerves, but he pushes through, still anxiously bobbing the stranger’s hand up and down as he speaks, “I’m ten years old, don’t have any pre-existing medical conditions, have straight A’s, and once went an entire week without making a single sound!” Words pour out in a rush, yet are well-rehearsed, as if he’s used to giving this spiel, “So you wouldn’t have to worry about me annoying you or even causing ANY trouble at all! I can cook and clean and don’t even need toys or anything!” It’s not as if he has many of them NOW anyway. “Just tell me whatever kind of son you want, and I can be it, Sir!” 

Reggie doesn’t seem to notice the stranger’s blatant surprise, looking in the direction of the woods. “Do you... Do you like plants?” He timidly asks, shyly smiling upward. At the slow nod, concern in amber hues going unheeded, his smile grows bigger. Excitement shining in blue hues and smile bright, Reggie leads him toward the treeline, hand tightly grasping his. He only spends a moment to ask for a name— “Steelbeak? I guess that makes sense...” —before rambling on about how the rain was wonderful for the plants and how he really likes the way the earth smells after a storm and hey, do you want to know the scientific name for that flower? Or that one? ... How many kids are you thinking of adopting anyway?

Reggie thinks that Steelbeak should only take one home.

Well, that explains the surplus of children inside. From looking at the duckling, it’s clear that he’s one in a long line of kids who need to be taken adopted. With clothes that are a smidge too big on his lean frame, blatantly boasting hand-me-down, and feathers that look like they haven’t been properly preened in weeks, Reggie is far from being anyone’s priority. Perhaps that’s why he’s so quick to cling to the stranger he JUST met, to the slim chance of getting a home. A family. Small as it may be, even one person is more than he has right now. 

Scampering towards the edge of the woodlands, Reggie’s excited ramblings— he wasn’t kidding when he said he could be whatever kind of son Steel wanted, noisy or quiet —finally draw to an end as they approach thick bushes. Although, a spot near the front seems to be more man-made than natural, fallen branches and leaves having been dragged and gathered to one spot. Releasing Steel’s hand, Reggie grunts with effort as he shuffles some of the meticulously strewn branches to the side, revealing a divet in the ground between some thickets where a vibrant flower is tentatively sprouting from the dirt.

But this plant is... strange. It looks like an amalgamation of a couple flowers; rose petals that hang like bluebells colored a mixture of warm and cool hues. A painstaking creation of Reggie’s, if the look he gives them is any indication. Blue hues sparkling with pride, he bends onto his knees to better look at the flowers, “I call her Rosebells... You wouldn’t believe how long it took to get actual results. First I had to-” Explanation is sadly cut short, the sound of scampering feet suddenly cutting through the serene air. Dozens and dozens of them trampling through the underbrush and destroying all in their path... “Oh no. They’re coming.” 

Scrambling onto his feet, Reggie frantically starts shoving Steelbeak into the thick foliage, ignoring his protests and the way his silk suit is ripped and soiled by branches. “Shhhhhhh! Just- Just shush, please!” Surprisingly, the stranger falls silent without further begging... Maybe it’s the way his eyes had started to fill with tears, or the way his voice had cracked with fear panic. Either way, Reggie doesn’t question it. He just hurriedly explains, “Whatever you do, don’t make any noise! I don’t want them knowing you’re here, or else they’ll never leave you alone.” Reggie will get shoved to the side. Ignored... Just like always.

“HEY, VEG-HEAD!” ... When he isn’t being tormented, at least. 

Yelping, Reggie spins around to face the swarm of newcomers. A hoarde of children, with ill-fitting clothes and mussed feathers, some having dirt-stained faces, others poorly applied make-up, all with cruel smiles or scowls... Swallowing a lump in his throat, Reggie’s hands begin to fidget— a habit he doesn’t grow out of —as he pitifully says, “I-I told you guys, I don’t like being called that.” It might have been considered brave, talking back like that, if the small duckling didn’t immediately flinch and cower when someone stepped forward.

Wide-eyed as the leader of the group approaches, Reggie stumbles backward in an attempt to keep distance between them. Unfortunately, he’s trapped between the children and the forest. Frankly, he’d take his chances in the woods, and is ready to do so. But even NATURE can’t be completely kind to him, and with a pathetic squeak— covering his face as the larger boy raises a fist, the crowd jeering behind him —he trips on an upturned root and plops onto his side next to his precious Rosebell. Maybe it wouldn’t have been as bad if he hadn’t scrambled onto his knees, frantically checking to see if the flower was harmed.

In mere moments, he’d HATE himself for that.

Reggie doesn’t even hear the other boy approach, too focused on his flower. It isn’t until he’s roughly yanked upright by the back of his shirt, tossed into the crowd where two kids latch onto his arms and hold him still, that he realizes what’s happening. What he’s done. What the leader is going to do... and he can’t do anything about it. But God, does he try. Struggling against the arms holding him— like how Steelbeak struggles against the branches he’s entangled in, clawing at his arms and snagging in his clothes, as if the plants know that this NEEDS to happen... —Reggie desperately flails and fights, panicked tears brimming in his eyes as the other kid nears the plant. “N-No! What- What are you doing?” 

Meeting Reggie’s gaze, a finger slowly taps against the flower’s petals, “What’s the matter, Veggie? You look upset~” Fingers slowly grasp a petal... and yank.

Reggie can practically hear the flower scream. “Hey! Don’t do that!” He struggles harder, wincing as the grips on his arms grow tighter, bruising his fragile limbs and causing tears to stream freely down his face. But he keeps wriggling, crying out, “You’re hurting her!” Kicking at one of their legs, the small boy is merely lifted up, feet dangling uselessly above the ground as he struggles. “STOP IT!” Another petal. “STOOOOOOP!” And another. A cruel pattern that continues for a few seconds, Reggie’s cries going unheeded, near drowned out by the laughter of the children around him. Enjoying the show... Passing the time, distracting themselves from the fact that each unchanging day is blending into the next.

“You really are pathetic. Y’know?” The boy muses, fingers slowly curling around the mangled flower’s stem as he muses, “You actually care about this dumb weed. I mean- You called it a HER! How messed up is that?!” He laughs, a cruel, mocking sound as he looks at the tear-stained and hoarse boy, “What, is this your girlfriend or something? You gonna start smooching flowers now, Bushbrain? Funny... I always thought you were a pansy.” Bursting out into a fit of laughter, body abruptly grows still at a bitter, murmured statement.  

“At least I can spell pansy...” 

Immediately, Reggie grows still, breath hitching and eyes wide as he feels his heart stall. “I- I didn’t mean it.” Feathers ruffle as the hold around Rosebell tightens, the other boy’s knuckles turning white as his gaze burns with notorious fire. “Are you calling me stupid?” Growing paler, Reggie frantically shakes his head, voice trembling like his form, “N-No! I’d- No, I’d never dream of- I- I was just... Y-You- I...” What has he done? “I’ll show you stupid...” The other boy’s eyes narrow, movements quick and cold... as he RIPS the flower straight from the ground. With a snarl, he stalks over and shoves the flower in Reggie’s face.

“THIS is stupid!” Flower is harshly shaken in front of Reggie’s face; the diminutive boy looking horrified, as if a corpse is being waved around. “All your dumb plants and your lame facts and how you actually think anyone could CARE about this crap! About YOU!” Flower is savagely torn to shreds, petals and stem flung to the ground in front of them as he spats out, “Well, gues what, Veg-Head?! No. One. EVER. WILL!” To emphasize his point, a fist is rammed into Reggie’s stomach. The duckling cries out in pain, drowning out the sound of Steel’s suit ripping, the rooster finally being set free- before everything fades away.

And he’s back in the penthouse...

Trembling, face is streaked with droplets as Reggie pulls away, everything that happened seeming to have transpired during that single kiss. Sniffling, he quickly starts wiping at his eyes, desperately trying to stop the flow of tears and steady his pounding heart. He feels sick... He can still feel the punches, can see his flower- his first friend torn apart in front of him, can hear the ‘non-existent’ screams, can hear his own... can remember thinking that they were all right. But they WEREN’T. Steel is here with him now, he cares... He cares. 

He cares, he cares, he cares... HE KNOWS HE DOES, SO WHY DOES IT SOUND STUPID IN HIS HEAD RIGHT NOW? Reggie doesn’t remember rushing into Steelbeak’s embrace; wrapping his arms around him and burying his face against his chest. But he is, sobbing against it and feeling even weaker than he did that day. Pathetic. { ☆ }