#rumor weed fanart

[thespaceyace]

“So…did ya’ hear the one about Alfred?”

I think this is gunna be a series and I’m not mad about it

[asdeadasasquirrel]

ok so here is the deal. you will either get this joke or you won't and that's ok but this idea hit me like a truck yesterday and I had to do something about it.

Deep cut I know

[rumor-weed]

Audrey + Humanized Audrey in her Bowling League outfit. I imagine as a human she’s pretty small, likely doesn’t escape the 4 foot bracket and is incredibly frail due to a lack of good gossip.

You know that bowling league shirt is one of her favorite things she owns now, a sign of better times and a reminder of the found family she has now.

[jyanimationstudios]

the twitter weed

[auroura101]

An AU with a jock fjord being smitten over a certain hippie cow is something i need

Bonus:

Fjord was distracted :3c

[rustic-space-fiddle]

TUA Inktober Day 13: Rumor (@totallyevan)

Okay so lemme explain this: Whenever I hear the word “rumor”, I think “Larry Boy and the Rumor Weed”. If you didn’t watch Veggietales as a kid, this will mean nothing to you, but just look up “rumor weed”. That thing TERRIFIED me as a lass, and whenever someone mentions Allison as the Rumor, I just think of that episode of Larry Boy. So here we have Evil!Allison as the Rumor Weed. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Love Me Less

A/n: This was up on Patreon a week before I posted it here, I release fics around a week early over there and have some Patreon exclusive drabbles, fanart, so feel free to check it out at my Patreon. Commissions are also always open. I’m going to be doing profiles and such for characters here too, so stay tuned!

Summary: Jimin is an undercover cop, and you know he’s lying to you. But he’s trapped in a huge mess, and he doesn’t want you in the crossfire. Multifandom Mafia AU (BTS, EXO, Got7)

Warnings: Some violence, mention of drug use, angst

Word Count: 2892

Jimin winces when the door shuts too loudly, but it doesn’t matter anyway, because you’re sitting at the kitchen table and there’s a bag packed by your feet and his heart sinks to his toes. Suddenly he’s so tired he can barely hold his head up, and you’re looking at him warily and he can’t help thinking about how this all started.

Jimin couldn’t help but notice you bartending at this little place near the freeway, a dive bar called the Dirty Dozen and owned by Min Yoongi, who was well known for playing all sides of the game, letting certain gangs drink free depending on who owned the area that month. He’d been trying to blend in, trying to be just another thug ordering soju from you, but he couldn’t help catching your eyes when you brought him a drink in these little cut off shorts, asking you about the tattoo on the long line of your thigh.

It’s second nature, flirting with a bartender, especially one that looks like you, and your easy smile made the two years he’d already been undercover seem just a little bit lighter. It’s fun and casual and easy, and he tells himself it’s just for intel, buying you soju so that your tongue gets looser, maybe you’ll slip out something about Kim Yugyeom since he was always hanging around you at the bar.

A month later, he has a drawer at your apartment and he’s spending four nights a week there, barely making it out of the house to meet with Namjoon and Hoseok because he just can’t stop kissing your upturned mouth.

Hoseok gives him a wary look the sixth time he shows up with your nude lipstick on his collar, and throws a few pictures on the interrogation table. Jimin only glances at them, sees they’re mostly of you with those long thighs draped over his lap at the bar, and looks up at Hoseok expectantly.

“What? You gonna tell me you never got some strange while undercover?”

Hoseok shrugs, sits down across from him, slumped in the chair a bit, legs spread wide.

“Sure. But that’s not what this is, and we both know it.”

Jimin leans back in his chair, smirking a little, putting his hands behind his head. He hasn’t even seen Jung in a couple of months, not since he’d given him the poke and stick “Nevermind” across his ribs, telling him if he’d be telling people that he’d done time, no one would ever believe he got away without a mark.

“It’s not? You know something I don’t?”

“I know you’re spending an awful lot of time at her place.”

Jimin shrugs. “That Yugyeom kid from the Im gang is sweet on her. Sometimes he tells her stuff.”

“Yeah? You think he’ll keep doing that after you threw him up against the bar wall last night?” Hoseok says, deadpan, and Jimin laughs a bit.

“What can I say? I’ve always been a bit territorial.”

“Just tell me you aren’t getting too deep, Jiminie,” Hoseok says, softly, and Jimin loses his smile, sighs and places his forearms on the table.

“Maybe I am. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell, Seok. At first it was just a pretty smile and long legs and intel, but now… I’ve been in this what? 18 months now? It’s easy enough to believe a street kid from Busan chose a different path. Hell, sometimes I believe it myself.”

Namjoon comes in, then, with a huge file, and Hoseok groans.

“Fun’s over. Christ, look at that paperwork.”

“It’s good news,” Namjoon promises, throwing it down on the table with a thud. He looks as if he’d had one too many late nights, his white button up wrinkled and stained with coffee, hair mussed and too long at the collar.

"Good news?" Hoseok looks skeptical.

Namjoon slides a photograph out of the file and flashes them at Jimin.

"This is your girl, yeah?"

Jimin stiffens a bit. It's you, all right, piggybacking on this muscle pig's back, he'd recognize those legs anywhere.

He nods. "Who's the beefcake?"

"Lee Hoseok. He was high up in Hyunwoo's crew until he went ghost a couple of months ago. Everyone thought he was dead along with Hyunwoo, but turns out both of them have been in lock up over in Daegu. Turned themselves in, been ratting out all their friends for weeks. We just got the file."

Jimin groans. "So you're telling me the crew I've been trying to bust for a fucking year and a half just rolled over? Just like that?"

"Just like that," Namjoon agrees, but he's rifling in the file again and Jimin knows there's more.

He slides a photograph across the table to Jimin.

Jimin looks it over curiously. The guy is tall, lean but his suit is expertly tailored and there are muscles there, for sure. His first undercover stint had been in an underground fight club and he hadn't broken the habit of sizing people up. Probably not too strong, but fast, likely, well balanced. His hands look manicured so he probably didn't get his hands dirty, and that suit…

"New player? Family ties, I'd guess?"

Namjoon nods. "Good eye. He's Kim Junmyeon's cousin, and mostly we'd dismissed him because he stays quiet, to himself. Lately he's been seen with Do and Zhang, though, and the rumor is that he's up to take over for Kim."

"He looks young," Jimin muses. He's handsome, full mouth, charming smile.

"He's only a few years older than you. We'd expected Minseok for next in line but he's been in the spotlight so much, been arrested five times this year. This kid... Jongin... he's clean. No record at all."

Jimin throws the photograph down on the table. "What's this got to do with me?"

"Turns out he drinks at your girl's bar. Not only that, Min says he tips double when she serves him."

Jimin frowns. "Min's giving intel again?"

Hoseok snorts. "Yoongi would sell out his own mother for a few thousand won."

Namjoon nods, his eyes going wide and bright like he gets when he's chasing something.

"Your girl has all the connects. She used to live with this Lee Hoseok and now someone from Im's crew and Jongin have the hots for her? You've gotta stick with her."

"She's popular," Hoseok grins, and Jimin wants to punch him in his perfect teeth.

"So you brought me in to tell me to use my girlfriend for intel?"

"Oh, she's your girlfriend now?" Hoseok teases, but Jimin ignores him.

"She's got ties to three of the major players in Seoul, Jimin. You know how to pick em."

Jimin leaves soon after, popping the collar of his leather jacket against the wind. He's pissed off, having them tell him to stay with you as if he'd ever had any intention of leaving.

Hoseok was right. He'd been in over his head since the moment you'd smiled at him and now that he knew you lived and worked in a snake's den, it made panic claw up his throat to think that he couldn't protect you.

First, Kim Yugyeom with his predator's eyes and wolf's smile and now the fucking future head of the Kim crew?

Jaebeom and Hyunwoo were small potatoes compared to Kim, dabbling in carjacking and marijuana mostly.

Kim had his fingers in all the pies, heroin and cocaine smuggling, black market guns, whores, every crime you could think of, they were committing...and most of them got away clean.

Only a couple of them even had records and it was for petty shit like battery or simple assault.

Jimin would have stayed with you anyway because of the way he felt waking up with your long leg looped over his hip, the way you'd grumble and tuck your face into his neck in the mornings.

But now? He had to make sure you were safe, no matter what that meant for him.

It's less than a month later when everything falls apart for Jimin, and he can't tell you a single word of it.

Jimin manages to track this low level crew boss, a foreign kid, not even 21, goes by Lucas to an opium den.

He catches him outside the abandoned building, has the arrest warrant based on pictures and intel already. There's no one in the alley so Jimin cuffs him on the spot as he whines in protest. Then he hears a familiar verse and drops the kid on the ground, cursing.

"Well well well," Yugyeom drawls. "Park Jimin the piglet. I can't fucking believe it."

"Don't fucking try me, Kim. I could bust you right now."

"Bet you won't. Bet you won't want that pretty little thing of yours knowing how clean you really are, yeah? She wouldn't like you as much."

Yugyeom is grinning, eyes glassy from alcohol or weed or god knows what and he's getting closer to Jimin.

"Don't-" Jimin warns, already instinctively spreading his legs, in a fighting stance while barely realizing it.

"Baby likes it dirty," Yugyeom continues. "She likes to slum it, I should know."

Jimin's hands are itching to clock him, right on the chin because Yugyeom isn't protecting himself at all, too drunk or stupid to block, but he waits for him to get closer.

Yugyeom is tall and lean, has a higher center of gravity and the closer he gets the better, and they always do, the tall ones, think because they tower over Jimin they have the advantage.

But they're easy, always go high, swing wide without protecting their middle and when Yugyeom swings, Jimin ducks and punches him in the gut, a sharp jab that takes the younger man's breath.

While he's gasping for air, doubled over, Jimin grabs him, swings him around and puts a knee in his lower back, taking him to the ground easily.

Yugyeom is still laughing and Jimin presses down on the back of his neck, grinding his face into the gravel.

Lucas is staring wide eyed at them, having turned over on his side, but Jimin ignores him.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" Jimin growls, and Yugyeom's snorts, blood spurting from his nose when Jimin presses down harder.

"Now I get to do whatever I want. You can't fucking touch me."

Jimin's heart sinks and he hauls them both into the station but of course, Yugyeom is right, he sings like a canary and now he's an informant and Jimin can't touch him with a ten foot pole.

Now instead of shoving him into the bar wall for palming your ass when he slips a tip into your back pocket, Jimin has to grit his teeth and ignore it.

Jimin buys a ring after nine months, keeps it in a sock in his underwear drawer because he can't get down on one knee when he's lying to you.

He starts to drink more than he should, stays out too late because he can't bear to come home and lie to you about where he's been.

The third or fourth night he gets home and you're already asleep, you wake when he plops down clumsily on the bed, turning over and trailing your hand across his chest.

"Baby," you murmur. "What's wrong?"

There's something stuck in his throat, all the secrets he's been keeping from you and he snakes an arm around you, squeezing you tight.

He can't bear to say "nothing" because that'd just be another lie so he tugs you on top of him and kisses you silent.

When he's got you flipped onto your back, buried inside you, he says the one thing he can, the one truth he can tell you, over and over.

"I love you, jagi. You know I love you, yeah?"

But of course, love isn't enough.

He ends up here anyway, with you looking at him with hollow, wary eyes.

"Jagi-" he starts, but you cut him off.

"Is there someone else?" You ask, your voice low and shaking.

Jimin scoffs. He's barely noticed other women even exist since you'd come into his life, but when he puts himself in your shoes, he supposes it isn't a far stretch.

"Not since the moment you smiled at me, jagi," he says earnestly, and your face softens.

"Then what is it? What's going on?"

You stand up, come around the table to wrap your arms around his waist and Jimin wants so badly to tell you everything, to pour out all the secrets that burn like acid in his throat.

"You're leaving me," is all he can choke out, his voice hoarse, and you sigh and rest your forehead against his chest.

"I don't want to," you admit, locking your hands at his back.

"Then don't. Jagi. Y/n. Please don't."

You shake your head against his chest and Jimin's heart cracks right down the middle when you look up at him, tears standing in your eyes.

"All you have to do is tell me the truth."

His throat works and you sniffle.

"Jiminie...please. I don't care what it is. We'll work it out just...just tell me."

He feels tears rolling down his face and he doesn't bother to stop them.

"Please," he pleads, and you release him, put a hand on your suitcase and Jimin wants to rip it from you, throw it across the room but all he can do is stand there and watch you, a sob catching in his chest.

He can't watch you leave, stands with his back to you, and when he hears the door close behind you, quiet and anticlimatic, something inhuman rips from his chest and he grabs onto the back of the dining room chair when his knees give out.

Jimin lets himself wallow, turning off his phone so that he doesn't call to beg you to come home, crying into your pillow because it smells like your shampoo, going only as far as the corner store to replenish the soju he replaces all his meals with.

It's Hoseok that finally nearly breaks down his door and Jimin stumbles to the door and jerks him inside, rubbing at the stubble on his chin and blinking at him blearily.

Hoseok looks around at the bottles of soju littering the table and Jimin gives him a look.

"Don't, Jung."

Jimin expects him to berate him, tell him he was stupid for falling in love and losing all their intel, but he doesn't.

Hoseok just puts a hand on his shoulder, pulls him into a hug, and Jimin can't stop the tears that are always so close to the surface.

After Jimin is sniffling instead of sobbing and Hoseok has gathered all the bottles to throw in the garbage, he sits down at the kitchen table.

"Jimin...I came to tell you something."

"Fuck," Jimin mumbles, rubbing a hand across his face and taking a long sip of the glass of water Hoseok had brought him.

Hoseok nods. "Jongin is spending four nights a week at the Dirty Dozen."

"Let me guess," Jimin says tiredly. "Only the nights Y/n works."

"Bingo. Joon has been going in your absence, he's gotten close to the other bartender. Y/n is living with her and Joon says…" Hoseok pauses and Jimin drops his forehead to the table.

"Just spit it out, Jung." He says miserably, keeping his head on the table.

"Joon says Y/n went home with Jongin a couple nights ago."

Jimin had been bracing himself for what his friend would say next but he hadn't been prepared for this, how it took the very breath from his lungs.

"No," he wheezes through the pinhole that has become his throat. "No, he's wrong, it's only been a couple of days, she wouldn't-"

"You've been mia over two weeks, Jimin," Hoseok says softly.

Jimin gasps in a breath, lifts his head.

"We've got an unmarked car following her. We'll watch out for her, you don't have to-"

Jimin barks out a bitter laugh. "Shut up. Just shut up, Seok. Of course I do."

Hoseok sighs and nods. "I told Joon you'd say that. Word of advice?'

Jimin looks at him.

"Shower first."

So Jimin ends up right back where he started, sitting at a table at the back of The Dirty Dozen breathing in the fog of tobacco smoke and the errant joint, watching you walk toward him with a bottle of soju and a shot glass.

"Hey," he says dumbly, and you give him a ghost of your easy smile that makes his heart skip.

"Hey, Jiminie. Long time no see."

You pout the shot and go to leave but Jimin takes your wrist.

"Ah, leave the bottle."

You frown at him, and he wants to tell you he has to stay a certain level of drunk so that he doesn't beg you to come home, break down when Jongin inevitably shows up and arrest him the second he smiles at you, to keep the steady ache in his chest just numb enough.

You leave the bottle, though, going back behind the bar, and sure enough, Jongin has already slipped in while Jimin was distracted, leaning across the bar with a big smile.

Jimin takes in a shaky breath and downs the shot, thinking he had a lot of long nights ahead of him.

[themagiciian]

Floral Fluster - Ch. 1

Title: Floral Fluster Rating: General Chapters: 1/2/? Word count: 3,152 Relationship: Cagney Carnation / Mugman, Cagney Carnation / Rumor Honeybottoms (friendship) Other characters: Cuphead (mentioned), Elder Kettle (mentioned), The Devil (mentioned)

Summary: Inkwell Festival is in a few weeks time, and Rumor insists that Cagney goes to it. Perhaps insisting he goes with Mugman might be the encouragement he needs to come out of his shell?

Author’s Notes: This was intended to be a collection of one-shots. But I wrote way too much for it to be one fic. Though, I suppose this works well as just a one-off, I do plan on adding more to it sometime.

I was mainly inspired by all the cute Flower Tea fanart here on Tumblr, so I finally worked up the courage to sit down and write something after not writing for a very long time. My writing is very rusty, please forgive me. 

Also... not sure exactly how to use Tumblr yet? I don’t know if it’s good for fanfiction or not, I suppose we’ll see.

I hope you enjoy. Hocus pocus... I’m out.

Cagney was antisocial. He could count all the friends he had on one hand. He was far from keen on social events - the last one he had attended was the celebration threw for the Cup brothers once they'd put the devil back in his place... That was well over a year ago by that point...

But, he had his reasons. Cagney liked his own company. He had his meadow of flower children that needed tending to. Most social events never interested him. Being alone was just easier. Yes, he didn't have to worry about anything but himself and his kin if he never left the forest, his home. But truthfully, above all else, he was more shy than introverted. He'd never admit it though, as much as he knew it was the truth. He kept himself to himself as much as he did because he was actually rather timid.

“Sometimes, I wonder, what scares you so much about leaving this forest?” Rumor Honeybottoms inquired. She was a good friend- very pushy, however, which was a blessing and a curse. Moreso a curse as she was always trying to push him out of his comfort zone - something he could never get used to.

“I'm not scared of anything,” Cagney replied with an audible scoff, running a hand over one of his petals. He turned his head away before adding; “I just prefer being alone. You know that.”

Rumor let out a short sigh, frustrated. “That grumpy facade doesn't work on me, dear. You know that,” she shot right back, one leg folded over the other, “and I know you know that everyone thinks you're just one, big, grumpy flower. But I can read you like a book, honey. It doesn't fly with me.”

Cagney only glanced back, holding eye contact for only a few seconds, before looking away again. This earned him another sigh, confirming her previous statement. There was a moment of silence before she continued.

“All I'm saying is… it wouldn't do you any harm to go out once in a while. I know you have friends you can visit. Why don't you go and visit the Root Pack? They're not too far away--” She paused when Cagney looked back at her again, glaring at her. That was a very clear “no”.

“I'm not interested in those rotten vegetables, Rumor,” The petals on his head sprung up a little, some of his thorns seemed to bristle out further. “They tried to dig out some of the little ones - they were just playing near the garden. And they called them weeds. I hate them!”

The “little ones” referred to Cagney's family of tiny flowers- or atleast what she has assumed were his kin. They'd already left the clearing when Rumor had arrived- she assumed they'd all hopped off deeper into the forest, up to their usual business. She reached out to pat Cagney's shoulder, hoping to relax him a little bit, as he was obviously agitated from the memory. That was one thing he wouldn't hide- he always held a grudge, especially when it involved his children. No one would ever expect Cagney to be a family man, but he really was protective of what he had.

Cagney leant into the contact slightly, reassuring himself that Rumor was only trying to help. She smiled warmly when he noticeably relaxed. “We'll avoid the Root Pack then.” She said, tone soft as ever, and he nodded. “How about Hilda? She's sweet. Or Goopy, perhaps.”

“I hardly ever see Hilda around. She's always off doing something else. And Goopy,” He groaned, before giving a huff, “he is the most obnoxious slime I've ever met. I hate his stupid puns and smug face…”

“I'm sure you're making this more difficult than it needs to be on purpose...” she was getting impatient, but her worried tone remained. The only response was a shrug.

There was a pause. About two minutes of quiet passed. Cagney was convinced he had upset her before she piped up again.

“I think you just need a girlfriend to pull you out of the ground. That would be the best solution.”

“Wh-what?! don't need a girlfriend!”

“Or a boyfriend, whatever your preference is. You know I won't judge, dear--”

“I- I don’t need a boyfriend! I don't need anyone!” He cried, his face flushed. He looked about ready to burst. Honestly, Rumor found his ridiculously flustered expression quite funny. She held back a chuckle and replaced it with a smirk instead. “I don't- I don't do romance.”

“You don't do anything, that's the problem here, mister!” She quickly replied, giving his arm a nudge. “Inkwell Festival is in a couple of weeks. Are you going to go? I'll be going with Cala and Grim to help set up.”

“...I mean, I wasn't planning to.” He sounded hesitant, and the look of disappointment on Rumor’s face made him feel bad. “Okay okay! ...Maybe. I'll think about it. I'll go if someone goes with me.”

She looked a bit more hopeful at this. “I know Cuphead is definitely going, and Elder Kettle. Tag along with them!”

Cagney went a bit quiet in thought, before shaking his head. “...Cuphead is a bit annoying-”

“Mugman, then!” She chirped, interrupting him, taking Cagney by surprise. “Mugman is sweet. I know you like him.”

Another pause.

“...I…Okay. I'll go with Mugman.”

Rumor smiled brightly, clasping her hands together. “Good!” She beamed, her wings buzzing to life as she began to take off. “I'll tell him he has someone to go with, then. But for now, I must go. The hive gets chaotic if I leave for too long.”

Cagney crossed his arms as she gave him a pat on his petals before she finally flew off.

***

A couple of days had passed. He had heard nothing from Rumor, or Mugman. He was secretly relieved. Maybe they'd just forget… And maybe he wouldn't have to go.

Then again, Rumor coming down and pulling him up out of the ground to come with her wasn't completely out of the question either. 'God gave you legs so you could walk!’ He could imagine her yelling, and he softly sighed.

He waited a little while longer… nothing.

It was already late noon. And in the midst of Autumn, he knew it would be getting dark relatively soon. He figured no one would want to trek through the forest to come see him in the darkness (besides maybe the aforementioned queen bee).

Naptime, Cagney thought to himself- he always found himself feeling more sleepy in the cooler months. Some of the flowers below him were already dozing off, a couple of tulips had begun nuzzling themselves up to his roots, their beady black eyes beginning to close sleepily. He smiled down at them, before curling up his long body around the little gathering of plants, head resting on the ground next to them, arms wrapping around the group of tiny flowers. A content sigh escaped him, his eyes shutting, quietly drifting off into a slumber...

He didn't know how long it had been since he had fallen asleep, but feeling something gently tingle across the top of his petals, whatever is was (a gust of wind maybe?), wasn't about to wake him up. He grumbled quietly, nuzzling closer to the ground, sighing through his nose. Not too long after, he felt it again, followed by a muffled sound…

“Mister… Mister Carnation…? Are you okay?”

His eyes didn't even open. His petals only twitched. Cagney was still half asleep, but he could detect that that it was a hand that was feeling his petals. Not wind like he thought it was. His eyes lazily cracked open, his vision blurred whilst his orange pupils adjusted to the sudden light, looking up in the direction of where the hand was petting from… it was something… blue…

“I can go, if you want me to, Cagney, sir…”

Cagney blinked a couple of times. That soft-spoken and kind voice was really drawing him out of his weary state, not to mention that petting, unconsciously leaning towards the hand…

“Mugman…” He mumbled, before blinking that last bit of sleep out of his eyes. And suddenly his eyes shot wide.

Oh God it was Mugman. Oh God he had actually turned up. Oh God why was he letting himself just be pet like this.

Cagney abruptly jolted upright, thorns bristling out of his body again. Mugman seemed taken aback by the sudden movement, arm still outstretched before withdrawing. Some of the little flowers had scattered out of fear at the movement.

“M-Mister Carnation! I-I’m sorry!” Mugman seemed just as shocked as he was, fumbling a little bit. “I didn't mean to scare ya at all, I'm sorry!”

“Mugman! I-” Oh, now what was he going to say?! He sighed shortly, obviously very flustered. “I…whatever, er, it's alright. I- I didn't think you'd show…I don’t get visitors often.”

This was already embarrassing. He could practically feel his ego get stabbed as he quickly tried to adjust himself, his face all heated up now. Too late to ham up the innocent act, as well.

Mugman smiled up at him, letting out a little chuckle at the display, then folded his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels. Though he was a little older now, he still looked so sweet… Sweet enough to make honey look bitter.

“Well, actually, Rumor told me to come down,” he began, pausing briefly to look around momentarily, “she said you didn't have anyone to go with to the Inkwell Festival. She said you wanted me to go with ya? Well, either way, I jus’ wanted to come down after running some errands for pops- it's been a while, hasn't it?”

“Erm… yeah, heh.” Cagney managed. It had been so long that Mugman looked… Visibly older. He still looked youthful in the face, the tinge of baby face would stick around for a while longer, but some of his features were broader. And he was definitely taller, as Cagney recalled him being quite stumpy, but now he was starting to fill out into a young man. Not to mention, that voice. He still had the same strong accent most residents this side of the island had, but his voice wasn't so squeaky anymore.

...Had it… really been that long?

Mugman tugged on his scarf that was tucked up between his face and royal blue coat, jeans tucked into his boots which had the tiniest of heels. Cagney secretly admired his fashion sense- he could probably pull off just about any outfit and look great.

“Yeah, last time I saw you was Christmas a few years back, don’cha remember? I gave you that big knitted sweater,” Mugman chimed, followed by a little giggle, “and it was way too big for ya! It was like, like a dress, or something. D’ ya still have it?”

Cagney shook his head. “It got caught on one of my thorns and tore. I tried fixing it, but…” he shrugged, “I couldn't save it. It just got worse everytime I fiddled with it.”

“Aw, shucks… that's such a shame,” Mugman looked disappointed, a hand reaching up to scratch the side of his porcelain head, “well, there's always this year! It's Christmas real soon, I can just make another one. It's no biggie. I'm better at knitting now, too, so it'll be even better than the last one!”

“You don't have to.” He replied, smoothing down his petals. He remembered the day when Mugman came down on Christmas day. It was probably the most bitter cold winter Inkwell had ever had, and every morning Cagney woke up with frost all over his petals and stem, snow coming up to the chins of his flower family & friends. Mugman came running into the clearing holding his sweater for him… It was such a kind thought, even though Cagney had accidentally torn it not long after.

“Ah, but I want to. That's the thing!” Mugman grinned back, expression practically beaming. “And, y'know, you don't have to feel bad or nothin’, it’ll be Christmas after all!”

“Mm. I suppose.” Cagney really did feel like the Grinch compared to Mugman. Eager to change the subject, he asked; “so what have you been up to recently?”

“Oh, I've mainly been helping out with my pops! Y'know, he's getting kinda old now so he can't do as much as he used to,” Mugman answered, “so I just run loads of errands for him everyday. Cuphead is out a lot more now so I usually have to do everything- but that's alright! Cos’ I don't mind.”

“Cuphead? What's up with him?” Cagney pulled a bit of a face, nose scrunching up slightly. He was still a little sour about Cuphead… his smug attitude didn't settle with him well. Thankfully, Mugman didn't pick up on his distaste for his older brother, and continued.

“He's working with mister Porkrind now,” Mugman replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “he started helping out with his shop a few months ago. He says it's just so he can get outta the house but I think is cos’ he wants to go gambling with Ribby an’ Croaks… Don't tell anyone I said that though!” He winked cheekily, and a smile twitched at Cagney’s lips.

“Clearly he didn't learn his lesson from last time,” Cagney remarked with a sneer, “let's hope he doesn't fall into the Devil's trap again, eh?”

Mugman pulled an expression of worry at Cagney’s comment, and he felt a pang of guilt. That probably pulled up some bad memories. “...I think those frog brothers will keep him outta trouble, though. Just make sure he doesn’t blow his money in the wrong casino, and no betting souls.”

As if Cagney was one to talk about betting souls.

“Y-Yeah! Of course!” Mugman was clearly concerned for his brother, though he tried to hide it behind that signature smile. Momentarily he put his feelings aside for the red-clad cup- if Cuphead made the same mistake as last time, Mugman would obviously be devastated. Maybe next time the Devil wouldn't treat him with the same mercy, either…

There was a short silence before Cagney extended a hand to pat his shoulder, attempting to offer some comfort.

“Cuphead will be okay,” Cagney spoke softly to break the silence, his large hand running up and down Mugman’s arm. His eyes might have been betraying him, but he could've sworn he saw a faint blush on his cheeks at the gesture. He wasn't all too sure what to follow up with, so there was a small pause before he added; “He looks up to you, Mugman. Anyone can see that.”

Mugman reached to clasp his hands around Cagney’s, gently nuzzling his face into his palm. Cagney didn't expect it, but he allowed it to happen. “I… I know if anything happened to my family, I'd be worried sick.” He added, and Mugman looked up.

“Family?” He let go of his hand, and Cagney withdrew. “You have a family?”

Cagney nodded in response. A lot of the flowers that had taken a nap with him had already scurried off earlier. However, a couple of his own brood had remained. He plucked one pink carnation off of the ground where they had once nestled up to his roots, lifting them into the palm of his hands. He petted its head before holding out his palm to Mugman.

The pink carnations black eyes looked up curiously at Mugman. “Aww…” Mugman smiled, before reaching out and petting its head as gently as possible. Cagney allowed the little flower to hop into Mugman’s hands. “Such a cutie…!”

“There's a lot more where that came from,” Cagney said, tilting his head a little as the tiny flower curiously looked around, “the rest of them have already scarpered, though.”

“I had no idea you were a dad, mister Carnation,” Mugman said, his tone was teasing and he gave another one of those cheeky winks, “didn't realise someone like you was so good with the ladies…”

“That's- that's not--!”

“I’m kidding, I'm kidding!” Mugman giggled as Cagney became flustered again, using one finger to pet the pink flower in his hands. “I don't doubt you'd get a lot of nooky though.”

Cagney grit his teeth at the teasing, reaching up to pull on one petal out of embarrassment with a loud huff and roll of his eyes. His face was just as pink as the flower child Mugman held in his palms. The little one looked a bit confused at the display, it seemed a bit worried. They had never seen their father so worked up, looking up at Mugman as if to ask 'what’s wrong?’.

“I'll tell you when you're older,” He whispered sneakily, followed by another giggle. The pink carnation seemed to get a bit excited at this, and Cagney promptly lifted them out of his hands.

“That's quite enough of that.” He grumbled, lips curled down as he put the child back onto the grass.

Mugman’s laughter faded with a sigh, looking across to see the sun had almost set, the last of its light ambiently illuminating the sea and the surrounding area. “Oh, golly! I'd better get going! Pops will have a heart attack if I don't get back soon,” Mugman exclaimed, “I'll have to get going- but I can come back tomorrow if you'd like?”

“T-Tomorrow?” He spoke as if he had any plans, a pause for thought, before giving a quick nod. “Of course, if you want to…”

“Okay, great!” Mugman beamed, carefully stepping over some of the flowers between them, giving Cagney a hug, not seeking too worried as Cagney hurriedly retracted his thorns. “I'll bring a picnic or something, maybe, I dunno.” He thought outloud, nuzzling against his stem.

Cagney was taken aback by the gesture, before carefully returning it. His arms and hands were really too big to hug Mugman, even if he were taller now. “...That sounds good.” He mumbled, frowning at the affection. He was far from used to this kind of attention.

“And we're definitely going to the festival together, right?”

Mugman was looking up at him expectantly, eyes wide. “Of course.” Cagney replied, meekly smiling back at Mugman's grin.

“Good!” Mugman finally pulled away, carefully stepping over the flowers on the ground again. A lot of Cagney’s family had returned now, for it was late. Mugman couldn't help but smile down at the little flowers. “I'll see you tomorrow then, mister Carnation-”

“Please, just Cagney will be alright.”

“Ah, okay. Goodnight, Cagney!” As he turned, he waved at Cagney and his carnations, dashing into the forest for home.

Cagney let out a sigh. He pet back his petals, finding himself actually looking forward to tomorrow. Mugman meant well, after all… he was a good soul.

Maybe having some company wasn't so bad after all...

[madamebristow]

“So…did ya’ hear the one about Alfred?”

I think this is gunna be a series and I’m not mad about it