Brilliant flashes of light raced through the dark clouds as they rolled ominously across the sky. Sharp claps of thunder roared, its powerful voice echoing along the landscape and rattling the panes of glass held by sticks, some by bricks, others by cement and stone. The wind sung a silent song of sorrow and mystique as it slashed and dashed amongst the treetops, and the grassy plains and knotted branches of the forest; through sweet-smelling fields of flowers, through little makeshift gardens and through open-door, cozy barns that sat quaintly on little hills. The wind raked at the tops of scraggly peaks of mountains along with its freezing, snowy caps.

Many of the inhabitants of Inkwell watched the natural spectacle either in boredom, grievance and sorrow, or annoyance as they considered it a minor inconvenience upon their daily plans and rituals. Most, as it stood either paid no mind to the storm or regarded it as if it were a washed of rag covered in mold - simply disgusting.

Not everyone regarded the storm in awe.

Not everyone was Mugman.

Not everyone could stare out at the pouring rain and feel a strong connection to it - deeper meaning behind it. How, it all came together in an odd way, but most importantly it was a reminder...

Of their birth.

Or rather the day he and his brother had been found by their guardian, Elder Kettle. And ever since then, the boys, or Mugman at least, were content to watch the pitter-patter of the rain splashing upon their window sills of the quaint cottage they lived in on the edge of the forests and closest to the sharp peaks and moors and cliffs and jutted rocks that lay not far from the cold, salty, white spray of the ocean.

Baby blue eyes stared wide out into the dark gray mass of the storm, taking in everything and listening to nature dance in time with the malevolent storm.

And he wondered.

About his mother, his father, whether there were other sentient lifeforms such as himself...he wondered how they got to the Islands...

But these were questions he had asked before to the rusted, tin metal, tea kettle - he had had no reasonable response and could answer with pity in his eyes and coming forth in the form of words from his lips. None of the residents understood either, and like Elder Kettle, washed their piting gazes upon them with the understood knowledge, to the adults at least, that the boys were absolutely orphans.

That hadn't set well with Cuphead who immediately retaliated with tantrums and picking fights and pranks on any adult who so dared to even think that the boys had nothing else; no bloodline, or cousins or uncles and aunts. Mugman on the other hand...learning these things out - he had been told this news via easedropping - he had not been happy but at the same time it has made the most sense.

A ship crash? Maybe. And then the boys had made it to the Islands, all washed up and bedraggled and soaked to the soul liquid contained in their porcelain bodies.

Mugman had said as much about his theory to Cuphead before being snapped at and having to hold his ground against his brother's fiery gaze.

An then the insults came and Mugman had to bring his brother down a peg. The fight lasted approximately four minutes. It'd surely felt longer than that.

The sounds of a loud yawn stopped the blue clad boy's thoughts in their tracks and he turned his head to watch his red clad brother, dressed in a loose fitting, red plaid, long-sleeved pajama top with pants to match stumble his way ungracefully down the stairs looking like a washed-up king kicked from his throne. At best, a lazy prince if nothing else.

"Has the princess finally awaken from her cursed sleep?" he teased in a high-pitch girly accent, snickering when his brother paused to glare daggers at him even though the effect it should've had was ruined from the dark creases under his eyes, and his straw swirling about in his head didn't help.

"I'll fracken end you..." Cuphead uttered trying very hard to appear menacing.

"You look like an addict."

*"Des meino!"* he heard Cuphead shout back, although it was distant as the cup was now in the kitchen rustling around in the cabinet.

Probably looking for his black tea...Mugman thought.

Shuffling stopped for a moment, and then there was the scrape of metal and a heavy thunk and grunt. A couple seconds later he heard running water and the kettle being turned on followed by a sharp whistle.

The mug turned his attention back to the rain and let the sound of the growling thunder, for the lightning had stopped, to lull him into a sense of calm. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as the sound of the rain, no longer violent and thrashing against the roof of the house, gently parted the ground in fat drops. It was clear to the toon that soon the storm would pass over at any given time in a few hours, might as well savor what was left while he still has the chance.

"Hey." A slight nudge against his shoulder had the mug (almost) jump in fright before turning to glare at his brother, ready to (needlessly explain to him because he wasn't going to listen anyways) that taking him out of his concentrated state was rude, until he noticed the cup steaming with a yellow-ish, green tinted liquid.

"Green tea?," Cuphead asked although it was more of a statement than anything else.

"Aww, you remembered I existed for ten seconds, that's so sweet of you!" Mugman teased once more, because teasing Cuphead after he'd awoken from his afternoon nap were the best.

Case in point, Cuphead yet again attempted to glare daggers into Mugman's very being, but it failed.

"Fine then I'll just dump it-" he started, gripping the handle a lot more gently and tippig it, ever so slightly-

"An then you'll pick it up because Elder Kettle's gonna kick your butt," Mugman stated matter-of-factly.

His brother grumbled in response, and he laughed out loud at the idiotic pouty face he was making. Still chuckling at his twin he picked up the cup; a small tea cup made of delicate china, and embroidered with fine, gold on the edges that spelled out the word, Xìngyùn Huā, fortunate flower.

It had taken Mugs about three weeks of extensive reading to reach the conclusion that it was written in traditional Chinese, and two weeks to enunciate the words properly. Granted, he could have just asked the one who had given it to him; Charles Muntz, the guy who ran 100-acres of land decided to turn it into his personal air strip for whatever reason, but it did make for fun times during the summer. But anyways, the toon had given the small cup to him as a birthday gift (technically they didn't have a birthday, only the recollections of the day Elder Kettle found them described in vivid detail because surprisingly enough for his old age he had a risilient memory) and that had been when he was...what? Seven? He was twelve now.

Getting back to the point, fortunate flower, a completely ironic statement that might have jinxed him. And he was certain it did.

Sipping on his tea, ever so delicately, because Cuphead didn't know how to make green tea to save his life and Mugman despised teabags and he was pretty sure that's what he'd used to make the tea which he clearly did on purpose to get back at him, he looked out the window once more watching the storm dull and the thunder throb amongst the fluffy clouds, plotting his revenge against his brother.

Wasn't it his turn to make lunch?...

He hid his smirk behind the rim of his cup and thought meticulously about what to do.

...All while listening to the sounds of his brother's loud slurping as he sucked his own tea through his straw.

Yeah, it was his turn to make lunch. Ooooh, Cuppy was gonna pay.

"This tea is horrible..." Mugman stated after a moment.

"I made it with love!" Cuphead exclaimed.

"Spite you mean."

"...yeah..."

"Pfft"

The blue mug glanced up at the clock that lay on the opposite side of the room. A few more minutes.

"I'm very hungry..."

"Three more minutes."

"Please..."

"..."

"..."

"Wanna help me make lunch then?"

The red cup let out a loud groan, head rolling to the side, liquid sloshing inside erratically.

"Screw it, let's do this."

I haven't really uploaded a story onto her in a while, so I figured I'd go on ahead and post this one-shot, which is a collection of one-shots I have. I should also add that I made this randomly out of the blue one with no real direction for it and it kind of spiraled, though I think you can see that for yourself.

Also, Charles Muntz I supposed to be the guy who helps you learn to fly aeroplanes in the game. I just randomly thought to name him that as a reference to the Pixar movie UP because I thought it made sense and that the guy you meet in the game would also be invested in exploration and adventure. He just isn't an evil bastard like his human equivalent.

I also wanted to give the islanders their own language, though I don't know how well that's gonna go since this whole thing has to be in english? But I thought that would be cool for some reason? A lot of these one-shots are probably gonna include a lot of scrapped headcanons I have for Inkwell, and this is one of them that I'm still playing with because I like the IDEA of it, but executing it I HARD.

*des meinos was a little I pulled out of my ass and basically means piss off, ai'm putting that there because I'm pretty sure Elder Kettle wouldn't be fond of them cussing in his house...so take that for what you will...

Anyways, that's it for now, do whatever you need to do; you already know how the format on this site works...and uh, bye I guess? =)