#so he can be with his kin in the garden state as god intended

[foolishfalls]

Me dragging gabe to his scheduled Babygirl tourdust appearance myself after we got both bilvy and travie

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Rise Above

Soooo I’ve been OBSESSING over the Witcher series (and currently reading Book 2 in my off time). I can’t seem to get Geralt out of my head and I basically ran out of fics to read/ patiently awaiting updates, so I let my imagination flow with this one. 

It’s going to be a multi-fic with the first three chapters completed and too many ideas brewing. I’m thinking of posting weekly (every Sunday) if there is interest? Please let me know what you think! All feedback is greatly appreciated. I’m also finishing up some Mayan stories because the fandom needs some extra love. 

Masterlist

Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k 

Warnings: slight man bashing, language

****************************************************

Since early adolescence mother always cautioned of the intrepid bewilderments and betrayals men were guilty of alluding to. Their mortal trickeries and wickedness so elegantly aimed to prey upon their next doe-eyed victim patiently awaiting. Mother also taught her to never succumb to their predatorial tendencies without a fight. For this made Y/N swear to never become what others around her so willingly yielded to, and that was a promise she intended to uphold until her last untimely breath. Even against her worst nightmares, Y/N would willingly glower straight into death’s mischievously hollowed eyes than ever give a man a sliver of power over her very existence especially without her consent. Her mother made sure of that.

Y/N reigned from the bountiful lands of Temeria. Plentiful on unharvested acreages and majority of kind folk. Her livelihood rotated between feeding livestock, sharpening blades, tending to her colorful harvested gardens, and riding her beloved stallion, Mr. Darcy among many other hobbies that encapsulated her attention. Days blended into months as Y/N kept with her daily chores watching in discomfort as her mother pretended their lives weren’t about to be upended in numerous ways. Even the mere existence of magic couldn’t make undeniable ailments evaporate. Humans were a multifaceted bag of bones; mages were an untouchable species still yet to perfect their untapped capabilities. Y/N wasn’t too keen on categorizing herself hence her importance of isolation. Her once radiant mama rapidly dissolved into emaciation, staying presently beside Y/N for a moment’s more of honest love.

“Do not let fear grip its’ treacherous claws into you. For I know the searing pain of losing a beloved.” A ragged gasp slipped her lips as she ventured on, her words choppy. “I spent a good amounts time wallowing. Misery is an old friend. And its occasional deviousness ruses you sometimes into thinking that its constant companionship will remain and that one is unable to attain blissful happiness. But you can, you can walk away from pain. Never forget your choices, my love.”

“You have my word, forever and beyond. I will live in your image.”              

Her bones progressively weakened as many sleepless nights withered into dusk; her skin once glowed with the light of a thousand suns now had a clammy-cool manifestation.  Y/N refused to acknowledge the painful jab that infiltrated her deceitful senses, so she stayed the course and masked her outlandish emotions. Now wasn’t the time for pity. But her one solace and comfort were the freedom and exhilaration her morning rides brought to her burdened soul. It was in these hushed moments of tranquility she could actually feel the fresh air maneuver throughout the entirety of her body, engulfing her lungs in a welcoming burn.  He truly was a beauty to behold. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how the flitter of his silver mane reflected upon a summer’s day or the thickening of his luscious coats preparing for a long winter. When her loneliest moments fleetingly caught up to her, she was never sincerely lonesome.

Old wives’ tales voiced intricately woven fantasies of princesses awaiting their rescuers in decaying castles merely passing time as their hair grew longer in confinement. Y/N recollected eavesdropping upon the town baker’s inviting stories by the ages of nine, quests chockfull of bravery and resolution, doubt beginning to flood her veins. Another story, another vapid man to ‘save’ the day. She could barely hide the chuckle that fell off her lips when she dare glance at the girls lost in tragic intrigue. One tale in specific resided in her childish memory; painting a certain princess that captured the eye of a handsome knight all within the shadows of her forbidden fortress. His velvety voice promising her everything her heart was trained to desire, all she simply had to obey was his one command; to throw down her beautifully kept hair in order for her release to occur. Why were women forced to choose and best be timely in such a life altering circumstance? Y/N wondered if the Princess truly desired to be set free from her silent haven. 

Like clockwork, Y/N left the bakery in disarray all while quietly venting underneath her breath. The fable lived on for centuries later as all the women in her village maintained their perfectly kept long locks as long as the Gods allowed. From that moment on, Y/N kept her silky blue hair shoulder length and out of the way. Her mother should have named her rebellion by her mannerisms and ideals alone but deep inside her cavernous belly, she carried great pride of her kin, knowing she wasn’t graced with a foolish daughter as far back when she was safely in the warmth of her womb.

Y/N was brazenly gorgeous with a fierce lioness temperament that left men thirsting at her feet, but she merely wasn’t interested in what any suitor had to offer no matter the amount of gold, land, or riches. She was satisfied with little for her happiness to flourish. Her athletic build aided her in this strenuous life asking for no help and receiving none was her personal policy. Her lineage solidified their strength. Hushed whispers from townsfolk accursed them to witches but they had no humanly conception of the power that laid within their own bloodlines. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop men’s gazes upon the beautiful duo. 

Y/N had received no official training as mages were accustomed to but her mother put her faith wholly into her only living daughter. By five, Y/N was capable of complex charms and potions her mother had never laid witness to and for this simply delighted her. Y/N recognized that magic was a tedious give and take, an equal force of dynamics in order to maintain nature’s balance and in secret, she efficaciously thrived. Magic was an underlining necessity that Y/N made sure to never abuse in her favor no matter the situation. She was born and bred with a ferocious vigor and damned be the day she would allow her abilities to do her heavy lifting. Blood, sweat, and tears was her silver lining and Y/N be damned if that was ever taken away from her. She was always a compulsive pessimist, always looking for the soft brown spot in the fruit, pressing so hard she created it. She excelled in the art of secrecy always staying perfectly out of reach even to the woman who adored her completely.

Her mother’s passing hardened her seemingly aloof heart or so she was told.  Memories do not always soften with time; some grow vicious edges like knives. Some hearts will forever understand each other whether death’s door stand in their way or not. Curiously, she didn’t remember when she became exhausted. She didn’t remember when exhausted was no longer exhausted, it just was. The tiredness was in her hardened bones and she accepted this state of being bogged down in apathy. Though through her mountainous misery, goodness could often be found residing in the middle of hell.

Trapped in the comfortability of mundane routine, Y/N fantasized about a journey brimmed with mischief and riddled adventure, but little did she know the Gods were listening to her every whim. Fate and destiny happily intertwined. Over a period, her dreams grew consistently worrisome; haunted by an attractive man with hair the color of the moon, hypnotically golden orbs aside his more than chiseled features. If she were to extend her arm his way, he was just barely out of reach and oh, how she desired for a simple touch; to know what stood in front of her was reality or foolishness. 

What really unnerved her was the repeatedly jumbled words almost as if the man were submerged under harsh waters. His eyes relayed urgency that Y/N couldn’t quite decipher, not quite yet. With every vision entangling itself profoundly into the corridors of her singular subconscious, Y/N was further entranced by the strange gentleman she was graced with every night fall whether by coincidence or curse. And as he groggily faded into oblivion, Y/N had never slept so soundlessly in her entire existence.

[troymatthewjackson]

poems

These are words written with love and care for the queer community. They will not be relatable to everyone, and they are not intended to be.

with love,

Matt

God is a Queer

y'all Jesus freaks

sure now how to make a fag feel special.

comin' here to tell me how I failed my Mama

yet, y'all don't even know a damn near thing

about her fuckin' drama,

or a half of that Saint's trauma!

how her mama hit her with wooden sticks,

all while tellin' her that Freddie, Elton,

and Prince be suckin' dicks,

saying, little girl, you be in this world, not of it.

but, Mama knew better than Lucille, 

she knew that otherness was real.

that saint raised me,

and taught me to be true to my kin,

and, little did Mama know,

my Kin(s) would live in a state of sin.

now, here I sit while y'all haters be tellin' me,

that I better repent

for the kingdom of god is near to me.

well hear me, hear me,

my body don't want nothin' to do with thee.

y'all can kiss my ass and my ass's hole,

with your bad theology and your comfortable god 

sittin' up high on his imaginary throne.

I will damn well do with my body what I please,

I will eat ass, kiss ass, make love to an ass,

and show my ass, 

because this here too, it shall pass!

yes, yes, you heard what I said.

for saint Julian has prophesied to me,

“all shall be well," says she.

not here, not yet, but eschatologically.

So, Imma be just fine, don't you worry about me.

my Mama, my Kin, my ass and I, 

we gon' be mighty nice on the Kindom come day.

heavens, I might even cum five times

on that God-blessed day;

while listenin' to the boulevard is not that bad, 

as Jesus shows up as a drag queen in L.A.

O' glorious, glorious day, 

when the Kindom of God is drawn near,

and it turns out that God is a queer.

California

God said to expel the sexual deviants in "First Californians." All those fuckin' faggots live in San whatever, California.

I think that I first thought, really thought, God was real that night I watched the sun sink into an ocean from a cliff in Baja California.

My first real kiss was at a queer bar in some Gayborhood, the type you can only find in southern California.

He is a lovely boy raised by two lands. The border is the highway that separates his two homes, Baja and California.

I believe that if I had stayed there my life might make sense, if it were only the boy and I, and Baja, and California.

Maybe one day, I will go back and find myself where I left them, my joy, my hope, my lover, my hurt in California.

"Cover up Matt's eyes, I don't want him seein' two men-" holding hands, kissing, touching-because they can in California.

When Were You Happiest in Your Body?

I forgot to tell you how much I like it when you move your tongue from the bottom of my spine to the top of my neck. Every muscle of my body quivering as you lick. I feel comfortable in your body, like how you feel comfortable in my body. I think I am starting to feel happy in my body. The boy before you asked why I had such a pretty face but a flat ass. I first shared my body with you just to know what it would feel like, to give my body to someone who shared my love for Pad Thai. You tell me that you like how my belly is soft, Like when you kiss it as I try to hide it. So, I lie and tell you that I am happy to be thick skinned. But still, the truth is that I like me better on the inside, this body has been hard earned, so that is why, I let myself have an extra glass of wine with the fancy cheese. By the way, Let's eat a piece of chocolate layer cake for breakfast.

What the fuck is a man?

Lately, I've been busy finding myself. Finding the pieces that I had thrown away. Thrown away because I was told not to act like a girl. Because to act like a girl was to not act like a man. Well then tell me, what the fuck is a man? What is it that makes a man, a man? What is his essence? Is it the way he walks and talks?

Someone said to me, "act like a man." And, for twenty-some years, I tried, and I tried to do just that, act like a man. But, I realize that I never once said I wanted to be a man. So, tell me again, what it is that makes a man, a man? And, what did I ever do to make y'all assume that I wanted to be a man? Was it the clothes that I put on? Or, maybe the songs that I liked to play? Or, was it the way that I prayed? Dammit, I pray. I pray for a day, when man is not man.

Genesis 3:1-6 Erasure

Now the                      was craftier than God.               woman

The woman said, "We may eat of the fruit in the garden             But God said,       

               “You shall not eat of the tree, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die." 

But said the woman, 

                         "You will not die; for when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil." 

                     the woman saw that the tree was good,

                        and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise,

                        she took of its fruit and ate.

Genesis 1:2 Response Poem:

Oh, queer, formless void, what was the beginning like? Was it without God?

Romans 1:18-27 Erasure

God is revealed in ungodliness          for                  God has revealed it to them.

            For though they knew God,           

they became wise.                       and exchanged God                                        For their bodies               and worshipped the creature                                      the desires of their hearts

             their bodies with one another                                                   created things                                                   blessed forever!

            Their women also the men

were consumed with passion for one another.

they are full of fidelity and love.

[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...