#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜱɪɴɪꜱᴛᴇʀ; ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴍɪꜱᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴏᴏᴅ ❞ ¦ 「 Bushroot IC 」

[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 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]

Nsfw actions -#11 ( Liquidator/Bushroot )

- ✩ { @gamblealife } ✩

✩ { Meme } ✩

11. For make-up sex

{ ☆ } It had been a rough couple of weeks, egged on by failures brought forth by poor teamwork and an outraged Negaduck. Unsurprsingly, stress bubbled over in the form of yet another argument. One that had been blown out of proportion, as they tended to do, the cramped space consisting of five people holed away from Dorkwing and the police hot on their tail not helping with the situation. Honestly, if they hadn’t been surrounded by such an invested and talkative audience, he and Buddy might not have been so quick to go for each other’s throats... metaphorically, of course. 

But finally, after what felt like an eternity of avoiding one another as best they could in the claustrophobic hideout, aside from when they were forced to partake in awkward ‘team meetings’, it seems safe enough for everyone to part ways. Something that he and Bud have been dying to do since their latest tiff... 

And yet here they are, the last two in the decrepit atmosphere— the rest of their team having fled long ago —an uncomfortable conversation having transitioned into something far more- enjoyable. Bent over a rickety table, the legs groaning in complaint to the plant duck’s body being uncouthly SHOVED against it, the strained sounds mingle with groans of a far different nature, Reggie’s beak parted in heavy, instinctive pants as he is firmly pressed down by the watery-canine. Legs have already given way, Reggie completely supported by the furniture and the warm, bubbling liquid surrounding him. 

Enveloping around the small duck, Bud’s form caresses his fluffed feathers, sinking deep beneath the surface and into his very being. Toying and teasing at him in a manner he’s never experienced with anyone before, their bodies mingle intimately in a way that makes it difficult to tell where he stops and the canine begins. Warmth rushing throughout him as he soaks in the other’s liquid, swirling and flowing in a manner that sets his nerves alight, body fervently arching and pressing harder against Buddy’s form, urging the canine in deeper... stronger... He can feel familiar motions behind him, water flowing in and out in carnal thrusts to mimic a time when Bud’s form was more solidified, the canine panting heavily into the crook of his neck, Reggie shuddering at the feeling of hot breath giving way to wanting and wet kisses. 

A stream of water that Reggie can only describe as- hard and thick repeatedly flows into him, Bud’s ‘hips’ slamming against him and causing his own to ram against the table with loud THUDS. Noises that are nearly drowned out by Reggie’s wanton cries, moaning out Bud’s name as if it’s the only thing he can. Aside from words like—  ❝  Please   ❞  and  ❝  Ha-HARDER  ❞  Gripping the edge of the table to ground himself, head angles back as a watery muzzle lifts to toy at his stamen, a moist tongue sliding and lapping at them in a manner that makes the sensitive organs stiffen and grow plentiful with pollen. Confident that they are alone, a desperate moan tears from Reggie’s throat at the added stimulation, along with-

❝  B-Buddy... Aa-Ahhh~ BUDDY~ ... I missed you- so... so much~  ❞  { ☆ }

[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 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] "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. { ☆ }

[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]

[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]

"Ya's don't 'ave t' let him push ya's 'round babe," Steelbeak snips, hackles fluffed up, "I say ya's jus' tell Negaduck to d' one, an' let him be mad." He was sick of Bushroot getting 'scolded' and hurt by them; he was one second away from going after Negs himself. "I'd protect ya's from 'im, if that's what's stoppin' ya's," Voice becomes threatening, that anger flickering to the surface, "I'll kill 'im if he even 'tempts t' 'arm another feather on ya's, or goes after ya's for leavin'."  - ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​ } ✩

{ ☆ } Ever since that day in the Greenhouse, Reggie had been a bit laxer when it comes to hiding his injuries from Steelbeak. At first, he had simply thought that he was getting sloppy, whether it be from stress or fatigue. But as it became more common for his partner to help patch him up— help as much as he can, anyway —after Negaduck’s... outbursts, Reggie started to wonder if he was purposely letting the rooster in on this part of his life. 

If the part of him that enjoys having someone hold him, help him when he’s in need... Someone actually CARE about him enough to be there when he’s at his lowest, when he’s incapable of doing anything ‘useful’ and has to rely on the kindness of another... If that part of him was stronger than the other part that had fervently tried to keep Steelbeak in the dark about the unfortunate situation he’s in. The one that was terrified of inciting the rooster’s anger, and had even wondered whether a portion of it would be aimed HIS way. The one who had put the other’s well-being above his own... and hadn’t been able to last forever. 

Because like it or not, Reggie CAN be selfish when given the chance. 

A chance that Steelbreak encouraged with every gentle caress, every soothing word, every inquiry about the best way to help him. Ways that he actually listens to, using whenever he can. Holding Reggie close in the sunlight, or underneath the lamps strategically placed throughout the greenhouse for when the sun is down or emergencies that require closer or more ‘specialized’ contact. Giving him water when he asks, lightly spritzing him with a spray bottle to help soothe his nerves. Hell, Steel had even fed him fertilizer a few times when he was too weak to, despite Reggie’s initial embarrassment over his dietary needs. 

Now it’s finally catching up to him. Finally putting Steel in the danger that he’d be hoping to avoid. Today had one mistake too many, one screw-up too far, one straw on the camel’s back that is Negs’s already-thin patience... and Bushroot shows it. Lavender tufts are torn and frazzled, patches of feathers missing— revealing smooth, green ‘skin’ beneath —tail ripped and slender form bruised, cut and bleeding a light green and semi-sticky goop. The other teammates had managed to skedaddle in time, but Bushroot had been ‘accidentally’ shoved to the back of the fleeing group.. and tripped... right in the path of their outraged leader. 

Needless to say, Steelbeak isn’t taking his state well. 

Firmly grasping an injured arm, he winces as his boyfriend snaps about his injuries— not out of fear of him, but FOR him —disheveled feathers ruffling with unease and heart pounding in his chest at the thought of Steelbeak getting mixed up with that maniacal, murderous waterfowl. True, the rooster faces danger and death on a near-daily basis, but something about Negaduck just seems... different than all of that. Worse, somehow. Maybe it’s simply Reggie projecting his own deep-seeded fears of his leader, or maybe there IS something unexplainably dangerous about the duck... Either way, he’s not willing to risk it. 

“N-No!” Reggie objects, quickly rushing over despite the jolts of pain that shoots throughout his weakened form from even the slightest of movements. Legs feeling like jelly, it’s more of a stumble/fall into the other male’s arms, the plant-duck having to use Steelbeak to support himself. Gazing up at the rooster, concern (and fear) is clear as he stammers, “ ou don’t know Negaduck. He’s not- He’s not someone that you just kill. He’s... I- I don’t know WHAT it is about him, but he’s resilient like a cactus... deadly like Nightshade... unassuming as Castor Bean...” Hands grasp at the other’s back, clinging to him as if for dear life.

For who’s life... it’s hard to tell.

“Please, don’t start any trouble with him...” Technically, one could claim that Negaduck has already started trouble by constantly beating the shit out of Steelbeak’s lover, but... “This is my problem and I’ll handle it.” Translation: I’m going to continue to cower in fear and take the abuse unless my teammates decide to pull off a mutiny and I can hang out in the back cheering them on while I watch it go down. “Besides, I’m not always in this severe a state, right? Today just happened to be, more disappointing than usual.” He tries to console, a shaky smile on his face as he looks at the blurry rooster. An eye might be swelling shut...

But it’ll heal in due time!

Resting his cheek against Steel’s chest, eyes close as he emits a tired sigh, nestling into the protective embrace as he mutters, “I’m so tired... Can we just cuddle and- and forget about Negaduck for now?” Hard as that might be, for BOTH of them. “Please, Steely-kins?” He can’t help but bust out the extra sappy name, in the hope it’ll placate the rooster. { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

Steelbeak's breathes out slowly, feathers lightly fluffed. He has no idea what's sparked this, why he's going to agree to this, but, better say it now while he's in the mood, "Let's d' this." Hands take Bushroot's in his own, interlacing fingers, "Let's 'ave a kid,,," He grins bright, "Don't gotta clue how we gonna d' it, but, let's d' it Bushie, let's be parents." (he's suddenly feeling parental so have this :'D)  - ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​ } ✩

{ ☆ } Reggie might have hinted or flat-out asked once or twice or a few times that he’d like to have a family with Steelbeak. That he wants the husband, the pitter-patter of little roots, the dog and the white picket fence and the whole shebang that screams Normal Nuclear Family. Or at least, as normal as a plant-duck, F.O.W.L agent, and plant-dog can achieve while living in a ritzy penthouse. Although, the glamour levels have been significantly reduced by the number of blankets, potted plants, and doilies that have amassed surprisingly fast... 

But Steely doesn’t seem to mind it too much, and Reggie feels much more at ease in the homey atmosphere. Hell, he practically LIVES in the penthouse... Even Spike rarely leaves it, having appeared one day and claimed the couch as his new dog bed. Still, despite how comfortable Reggie had been getting and the finality that the relationship seemed to have taken, it still comes as a shock when Steel abruptly mentions a kid... Honestly, Reggie had often wondered if the rooster would ever want to have one with him. But now- 

He doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

“R-Really?” Voice is quiet, eyes wide as he gazes up at the rooster, beak slightly agape and blue hues filled with a tentative questioning, a hesitant joy beginning to light up their vivid depths. A few seconds pass, eyes studying the other male’s face as if trying to convince himself that this is actually happening; that he’s not simply imagining, or dreaming, the moment. It wouldn’t be the first time. Swallowing thickly, a shaky smile forms on his beak, a light laugh of disbelief slipping through, “You- You really want to have a kid? With me? You want us to have a kid TOGETHER?” Saying it out loud seems to make it easier to process, all previous disbelief melting away in exchange for pure, unbridled joy... and enthusiasm. 

“STEELY, THAT’S WONDERFUL!” He exclaims, hold on Steelbeak’s hands giving an excited squeeze as his feathers fluff further than they should be allowed to. Eyes sparkling and smile as bright as the sun, Reggie practically vibrates in place, “You’re going to be an amazing father, I just know it! Our kid is going to love you SO much and be the happiest child in the entire world because they’re going to have the best PARENT in the entire world and- and-” Leafy tail is wagging on overdrive, the plant-duck tears his hands out of Steelbeak’s grip so that he can fling his arms around his form, cheek nuzzling appreciatively against him.

Eyes squeeze shut as he emits a mixture of squeals and giggles, words slipping out between the adorable sounds, “Oooooooh! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou-” Without a moment of delay, leafy arms suddenly grow to easier cup the rooster’s cheeks, tugging Steel down closer so that Bushroot can better reach his beak. Giddy gratitude quickly divulges into messy, fevered kisses. Beak assaults Steel’s with an onslaught of heated affection, tongue curling around a metallic one and saliva quick to cover them both in a display normally saved for when trying to create a child... Of course, that’s what they are GOING to do. 

Just not in that particular way. Still, Steel can expect just as much— if not more —of that kind of fun regardless. With a final moan and apparent attempt to map out the back of Steel’s throat, Reggie pulls away from the rooster. ‘Breath’ labored and face flushed, an arm raises to wipe away the moisture covering his beak, breaking the small strand that still connected their mouths together. Acting as if nothing of note had happened, Reggie just grins and says, “So, what kind of kids were you thinking of growing?” Steel said KID. Singular. “I have a wide variety of the best seeds stashed away for just this situation!” { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

✩ { Meme } ✩ - @andiblewhimup - 💙 for an accidental kiss

{ ☆ } This was shaping up to be a pretty normal day. At least, normal by the standards of a mutated-plant duck shunned by society, destined to live and die alone. He had woke up, scarcely begun to tentatively wander into the city in search of plant food, pots and other essentials for his dear leafy friends... and had immediately been bumped into by a RUDE pedestrian. They hadn’t even apologized! Which Reggie is used to. They simply screamed out monster when the over-sized disguise fell off the scientist-turned-‘villain’. Again, Reggie is accustomed to this. And proceeded to enlist others to their newfound cause...

To rid the city of the horrendous monster (who had simply been trying to run some errands) 

Naturally, Bushroot had become a tad... aggravated by this turn of events. Cue Darkwing Duck swooping in on the scene, after the plant-duck’s army of sentient weeds had begun overtaking the very heart of the city— it’s incredible what sheer numbers can accomplish —their small roots growing STRONG when weaved together. Single, harmless plants bonding together in order to form monstrosities capable of tearing down entire buildings. A few of which seem close to toppling at any moment... The pure teamwork and determination of those little plants is quite admirable. Even beautiful, in Bushroot’s opinion. 

Unfortunately, others disagree... But no matter. He doesn’t give a damn what THEY or that- that no-good do-gooder Darkwing Duck thinks about him or his tiny friends. Nevermind that how much he cares about their scorn is the reason why this is all happening in the first place. Peeking out from behind the safety of a weed-wall, Reggie calls out, “Good luck trying to stop me, Darkwing! But in case you haven’t noticed, you’re outnumbered!” He’s pretty sure that the hero calls something back in return, but the panic and mayhem flooding the streets makes it difficult to hear... He’d ask the other male to repeat it, if he wasn’t nearly-certain that it was merely some mean insult (likely directed at his plant-like appearance)

It’s probably in his best interest not to know... Yeah. Prob- “WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” 

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

If Bushroot was a betting man, he’d guess that the fight is drawing to a close. With Darkwing approaching and the morale of his weed army growing low— pun not intended —his options seem rather limited. He’s definitely not eager to surrender; prison is NOT fun. But he doesn’t exactly feel confident in his ability to best the hero on his own. Even if he really should be. Light blue hues flicker around the area in search of a backup plan, in case the hero manages to reach him... Leafy hands anxiously fidget as he shuffles impatiently from side to side.

He could try running to- No, Darkwing would easily catch him. But maybe if he- No, there’s nothing good over there. Let’s see... Too many people to get through, too little people to provide cover, too much debris to climb over, not enough debris to provide obstacles... The reasons go on and on as he futilely searches for a decent place to flee. Finally, after what feels like forever— although in reality, it could have only been a few minutes —he is about to simply make a blind run for it and hope for the best. Yet his half-baked plan is interrupted when he suddenly hears a yelp... growing louder... drawing nearer, as if-

“YIPE!” That’s all Reggie manages to emit before he is suddenly tackled by an out-of-control hero hurtling towards him at unreasonable speeds. How Darkwing managed to stumble so badly and what the Hell caused it, Reggie isn’t certain... But he IS certain that he’s going to be feeling the aches of slamming into a nearby building well into the next day. Wincing at the feeling of his back digging into the concrete, eyes flutter open as he emits a groan... Or at least, attempts to. His sound of discomfort is muffled. Something pressing against his beak blocking the noise. Warm and soft and kind of nice and... disgustingly Darkwing-y!

With an offended grunt, he roughly shoves the hero away from him. Ignoring the way that his heart is POUNDING or how a vibrant light-green blush is quick to dust his burning cheeks— he was kissing Darkwing Duck —he pathetically stammers, “Wh-What the heck, Darkwing? You can’t just- just go around kissing people!” The final words are said in a hushed whisper-yell, gaze darting around the area as if they are discussing something scandalous. He kissed Darkwing Duck, and actually enjoyed it. “What, it’s not enough that you’re always making fun of me and getting in my way?! Now you have to mess with me like that too?”

Why won’t his stomach stop feeling fluttery and sick? Stop it... Just STOP. Please. { ☆ }

[ducktales-wco-oo]

[Steelbeak @ Bushroot - aflockoffeathers] ❛ you should be kissed — and often — and by someone who knows how. ❜ (casually just gonna yeet this in here :'D )

- ✩ { @aflockoffeathers​​ } ✩

{ ☆ } Reggie had liked Steelbeak from the start. From the first moment the rooster politely spoke to him, had gotten close without even seeming to bat an eye at the plant-duck’s appearance or at the enthusiastic way he’d explained his plans... Steelbeak had been so patient, so civil and understanding and- and NICE. Reggie hasn’t had much experience with people being nice. Granted, the other male is a villain— technically he could be considered one too, but Bushroot tends to overlook this in favor of being wildly misunderstood —but he still manages to be preferable to the majority of St. Canard citizens.

Humpf... And yet people wonder why the city is near-constantly in peril.

Most would consider them enemies, or at least on opposing sides. That’s what spurred their first interaction. Steelbeak has bosses in F.O.W.L and while Bushroot tends to do a lot of solo work, there’s no denying that he’s firmly ensnared in the Fearsome Five. One doesn’t just STOP working for their leader Negaduck. Two factions with their own plans for St. Canard, their own views on how things should and will play out. With disposable pieces littering the chessboard of a city, as they plot on how to overrun it... But Reggie isn’t like most.

He doesn’t give a damn about taking over St. Canard— most of his large-scale plans are spur of the moment endeavors, brought on by a temper and the ability to DO something about it now —and is more concerned about not getting hurt by Negaduck than whether or not his leader’s vision ever comes to fruition. Loyalty to Negs is non-existent and loyalty to his ‘friends’ in the Fearsome Four spans to not hurting them unless absolutely necessary. But automatic animosity towards someone else simply because they are ‘against’ them?

Yeah... Not a chance.

With the entire world seemingly out to get him, Bushroot has learned not to be picky when it comes to those who aren’t. Steelbeak’s bosses might be less-than-friendly, but the rooster doesn’t seem to have any personal vendetta against him. That’s good enough for Reggie. MORE than good enough. Made apparent by how at ease the plant-duck appears, practically beaming as he enjoys his ‘competitors’ company. Leafy tail has been wagging near-non-stop now, vivid blue hues riveted on the other male’s face, openly appreciating every little detail, from the softness of his feathers to the shine of his beak. Simply breathtaking...

And Bushroot doesn’t even HAVE breath to take anymore.

Non-existant breath hitches when Steelbeak suddenly breaks the silence— a rare moment of it, since Reggie had been enthusiastically rambling on about God-knows-what science-related topic —smile growing bigger and eyes shining with a giddiness incapable of being contained. Evident by the way he has to bite his bottom lip to stifle an embarrassing squeal, face rushing with a flood of warmth that overtakes his fluffed feathers. This is it. It’s actually happening... He KNEW IT! He just kind of knew that Steelbeak liked him! 

❛ you should be kissed — and often — and by someone who knows how. ❜

Why else would he call him babe? Or Doll? Or be so nice? The statement confirms Reggie’s suspicions because obviously, the rooster is talking about himself... Yeah. There’s no other explanation. “I bet that you probably know how-” No thinking, just speaking. He responds, heart fluttering and lavender tufts fluffing as he takes Steelbeak’s hands in his own, “-since you’re so good-looking and just good at things in general-” Gaze is sheepishly averted, as he adds with a chuckle, “People probably want to kiss you all the time...” Reggie does. “I don’t know about me, heheh... But someone like YOU definitely should be kissed a lot.”  

“A whole lot...” Cue vibrant blue hues peeking upward, gaze hopeful and face dusted a light green as Reggie says, “I could do it.” Tail is wagging in overdrive, Reggie moving closer as he eagerly continues, “I could kiss you as often as you wanted! I’m not very experienced-” At all. “-but I’m a fast learner and I could give you all the affection you deserve! Not just kissing either...” What does he mean by- “I can also cook and shower you with gifts and remind you how amazing you are.” Oh. “... Would you like that, Steely?” { ☆ } 

[ducktales-wco-oo]

✩ { @soul-heart-and-beyond } ✩ - Continued from ★

{ ☆ } Brows quickly furrow at the other’s snappy tone, a pout tugging at his beak as he huffily crosses his arms. “Humpf... Rude.” Bushroot mutters in a barely-audible tone, too irritated to keep his comment silent... but not exactly keen on starting a full-fledged argument with his fellow villain. Especially when in the middle of a heist; a Negaduck-demanded heist. Failure is NOT an option. Not if they wish to avoid being punished by their ruthless leader... True, Bushroot would survive whatever was hurled his way. But sometimes being resilient is more of a curse than a blessing. Even more so when Negaduck is feeling extra creative.

Believe it or not, sometimes Reggie longs for the hedge clippers...

“Fine, fine, fine... That’s a good plan-” Bushroot impatiently responds when Megavolt finally seems to have an idea, foot tapping as he watches the other male begin to commence it. Is he annoyed that Megs just expects him to follow along, before even getting his consent? Yes. Of course, he is. Honestly, sometimes he wonders if his friends teammates think that he is capable of having opinions of his own. But is he going to swallow his annoyance because it's actually a decent plan? ... Yes. He instinctively admits that it is a Good one. Reggie’s own intense NEED for validation making words of praise for others sometimes slip out at the most inopportune times. Something that the plant-duck tries to overshadow with his next ones.

“-so just get a move on, will you? I’d prefer to finish the job before a certain weed-walloping wacko shows up.” Whether he is talking about Dorkwing Duck or their ‘beloved’ leader, isn’t too clear. Knowing Bushroot and his tendency to try and stay on Negaduck’s good-ish side, he’s likely talking about the self-appointed Hero of St. Canard. Then again... The plant-duck has been known to grow bolder when certain there would be no consequences to it.

Evident by how he carefully nudges himself toward the beams, expectantly looking over at Megavolt to see when the troublesome lasers will no longer be an issue... { ☆ }   

[ducktales-wco-oo]

✩ { @gamblealife } ✩

{ ☆ } They had a fight… Again. Honestly, Reggie can’t even remember what had started it. Far too drained— both physically and emotionally —to obsess over it like he normally would. To guiltily nitpick every little decision he had made, every word said and look given, in a futile attempt to understand where things had gone wrong. Why they keep going wrong. It’s not as if it matters anymore. Because things WON’T have a chance to go wrong again… Or right. 

This afterthought that causes the plant-duck to pitifully hug himself, shoulders hunched and gaze downcast as he sullenly makes his way through the hideout. From his drooping stamen to his lightly quivering beak, he is the very embodiment of pathetic sorrowful. Subconsciously seeking pity concern and the efforts of someone to cheer him up… Efforts that’ll be in vain, of course. The hideout appears to be deserted, as far as he is aware, with not a single soul in sight. Or even the slightest sound to indicate that someone might be around. 

Not that it’d matter even if they were.

No one in the area gives a damn whether or not he is upset. Hell, based on the job he just returned from— he’s about ninety percent certain that he wasn’t supposed to make it out of that dumpster fire of a stupidly solo-mission AT ALL —they couldn’t care less about him even being alive. Wincing with every step, aching body screaming in protest, his mind can’t help but wander to the ONE person who… used to care. The one person who would notice how distraught he is without any prompting. Who’d immediately scoop him into his arms, lovingly cover his face with kisses and murmur sweet-nothings... Remind him that everything will be okay. That everything is okay because- because he’s here. Because they’re TOGETHER. 

Ironic, that Buddy is the very reason he needs some comfort right now. Frankly, Reggie has never been a fan of irony— unless he is concocting it —finding it rather mean-spirited more often than not. Like now. This... is very mean-spirited. Droplets begin to fall from the plant-duck’s eyes, delicately sliding down his cheeks during near-silent sobs (no point in making too big a fuss if no one's around to be manipulated moved by it) hitting the floor like rain as he continues his solitary trek. Sullenly, Reggie tries to pretend that the moisture he feels on his cheeks is the gentle caress of a watery hand. That the dampness steadily growing is from a wonderfully gentle watery-mass, instead of his own patheticness. It doesn’t work. 

However, his fruitless imaginings are interrupted by the sound of a VERY REAL voice drifting from another room. Unable to keep his curiosity at bay, Reggie quietly— and hesitantly —makes his way towards the enticing sound. Misty-eyed and softly sniveling, he carefully presses himself against the wall beside the slightly ajar door. Taking a few moments to just... enjoy the soothing sounds drifting in, before finally deciding to see who they belong to. As if there is any doubt. Vivid blue eyes are wide with awe (and a pained longing) as they barely peek into the room... Heart harshly stalling in his chest at the sight before him.

Body tenses, breath catching in his throat, when he’s abruptly addressed— although he doesn’t think that Bud knows exactly who he is addressing, since he has yet to turn to face him —and for a panicked moment, Reggie considers fleeing. It’s a tempting thought, and his feet give a shuffle toward the hallway as if preparing to take it... before reluctantly dragging into the room were Bud is instead. Gaze downcast, a leafy hand awkwardly rubs his arm as a soft sniff slips out. Wiping his cheeks with his shoulder in an unsuccessful attempt to remove the tearstains, his misty eyes and gloomy demeanor render this pointless.

“... I didn’t know that you could sing.” He finally says after a moment, still refusing to meet the other male’s gaze for fear of it being an angry one. Voice is quiet, a near-mumble as the nervous grip on his arm grows tighter. Anxiously biting his bottom lip, he can feel his cheeks grow warm with shame as he internally berates himself for eavesdropping. “You’re... really good.” Risking a glance upward, gaze is filled with apprehension— and love undiminished —as it meets the other male’s for the briefest of moments. But that moment is still more than enough to send Reggie’s heart fluttering wildly, face growing hotter as he shyly stares at the ground once more. “... I’m sorry for interrupting you. I can- I can go...” { ☆ } 

[ducktales-wco-oo]

✩ { @gamblealife } ✩ 

{ ☆ } This has to be one of, if not THE most terrifying, foolhardy, ridiculously-dangerous missions that the Fearsome Five have ever attempted... and Bushroot was given the ‘honor’ of embarking on it alone. Perhaps it’s because he’s one of the few members who is incapable of dying (as far as they know) Although, that doesn’t explain why Liquidator wasn’t chosen for this escapade instead. The watery-canine would certainly have an easier time than the lanky weed... Of course, maybe Negaduck just hadn’t felt like risking his precious pet.

Reggie, on the other hand... Well, sometimes he wonders if their leader is purposely testing how much abuse his form can take. Only instead of for the advancement of science, like the plant-duck must admit he’d do that for, it’s simply... a sick game. One that Bushroot finds himself an unfortunate player in. Yet no matter how much he’d like to STOP PLAYING, he can’t... For reasons that cause his stomach to twist and leafy hands to nervously fidget.

“Just- Just stay calm, Reggie... You’re almost there. You’re almost there. Just... a little bit l-longer, a little bit fu-further and- and then you can snatch that stupid gemstone Negaduck is so obsessed with.” Frankly, Reggie isn’t sure what the magical properties of the gem entail or WHY Negs had been so vehement about getting it. If it’s such a big deal, then why not send everyone? Something doesn’t sit right with him about this. But he does know that he didn’t nearly become mulch several times already, just to turn tail and run... No matter how much he’d like to. So, with wringing leaves and a violently trembling form, he continues his perilous sneaking through the highly ‘secure’ facility. Looking over his shoulder every few minutes-

-because he SWEARS that he can hear more guards approaching.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Reggie’s hand brushes against a spot on his arm. Brown and cracked like dead leaves in the autumn, burning even now—the light touch causes his hand to recoil as he harshly bites down on his bottom lip, desperately muffling the horrid scream that wishes to slip out —despite it having been quite some time since that strange liquid hit him. Thank God the guard’s aim hadn’t been better, otherwise... Reggie doesn’t know what would’ve happened to him. He might be able to regrow, but only if enough of him survives to begin the process. If all of him was as... DEAD as that spot on his arm, would he be-

Not eager to test that theory, or find out what it feels like to be bathed in the dangerous concoction, Reggie picks up his pace. Frantically scrambling down the long hallway, negate of places to hide if company arrives, Reggie religiously repeats this internal mantra, ‘Just a little further. Just a little further. Just a little-’ They’re coming. He can hear them, heavy-boots thundering down the hallway toward him. Guns cocked and strange liquid dripping onto the ground, harmlessly sliding off the smooth surface. Yet it will savagely cling onto him when it makes contact. That spot on his arm begins to burn harder like a red-hot iron is pressing against it. Reggie does the only thing he can think of to do... He runs. And they chase.

He doesn’t even pay attention to where he is going anymore. The route that had been literally hammered into him by Negaduck now vanishing from his mind; replaced with visions of being captured... of being tortured or killed or- or WORSE. He’s not sure what ‘worse’ would entail, but just the possibility is enough to make his heart pound. Feet slip and scramble on the slick floor, Reggie longing for the stability of dirt and grass. For any semblance of plant life to greet him, to help him... But the area is intimidating in its cold, metallic atmosphere. The very air itself feels sterile and manufactured. Suffocating him as he is gripped by panic, the sound of his pursuers growing louder and louder with every passing moment.

“YIPE!” Reggie yelps, jumping to the side as a splash of liquid hits near his feet. They are opening fire and these guys seem far more competent than the ones he’d... incapacitated. Angrier too, if the vile (and terrifying) things they are yelling can be believed. Splatters hit his body, feeling like acid as they eat away at him. Tears springing to his eyes and a newfound burst of speed possessing his legs, he darts through a branching hallway. Hoping, praying, that he’ll be greeted with the sight of a door. But his stomach sinks at what he sees instead... Turning around, back pressed against the dead-end and shoulders hunching in a pitiful attempt to make himself appear small, Reggie looks out at the approaching threat.

It’s a stupid, last-ditch attempt (that he knows won’t accomplish anything) but it’s all he can think of to do. “H-Help... Someone, anyone, pl-please...” Bushroot croaks, tears growing stronger as his voice grows weaker. Eyes squeeze shut, the plant-duck bracing himself for the inevitable pain. For the inevitable demise... What was the last thing he said to Buddy? They- They had fought, didn’t they? Great... The last memory Bud will ever have is just how much he HATES Reggie. That thought alone causes his heart to wrench worse than the fear. Chest heaving from the force of his choked sobs, Bushroot feels himself awash in regret... 

Stupid, stupid, stupi- ‘Reggie! Reg, can you hear me?!’ 

“B-Bud?” Eyes shakily open, heart stalling in his chest at the sound of that voice echoing through the hallways. He sounds so far away... “BUDDY! BUDDY, I’M OVER HERE!” Reggie desperately tries anyway. Voice grows stronger, the thought of Liqui- of Bud, fueling him... Making it easier to speak, to keep his misty eyes open, to force himself to look out at the danger steadily approaching him. “I’M SORRY! I’M S-SO SORRY FOR- FOR EVERYTHING!” He chokes out through his tears, voice trembling as violently as his form, “PL-PLEASE, PLEASE HELP ME!” Please don’t leave him... Even if he might deserve it. 

“Please, Buddy...” He whimpers... crying out when a shot is fired into his side. { ☆ }