#rats smp fanfiction

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

u/JustALittleButtonHatRat:

AITA for not wanting to burn a dried mushroom?

I (adult M?) am staying in a huge mansion with several of my friends for the winter. Two of those friends are O (adult M) and S (adult M), the latter of whom I swear is a witch. A couple of weeks ago, I went exploring in the basement of the house and found a dried blue mushroom with orange spots; I decided to keep it because I thought it was pretty.

A few days ago, after a very dangerous incident involving sizeshifting cat clones (blame S for that), some of my friends and I went to the boiler room of the house and saw it was filled with this blue fungus that was the exact same thing as my mushroom. Apparently, there's an infestation of it in there (O planted one in there to get rid of an insect infestation and then it spread out of control all over the place), and they give off toxic spores that can kill everyone if you breathe them in. O and some of S's family members apparently got killed by breathing in those spores (don't worry, O's okay now).

I then pointed out that I had my dried mushroom and nothing's ever happened to me because of it. O and S panicked and told me to burn my mushroom, with S wanting to confiscate it in order to destroy it. I refused to, because maybe it's harmless if it's dried like mine? I was okay the whole time I had it.

S then opened a way into the toxic spore boiler room, apparently to show me how unsafe it is to go in there? He said it was a warning, but I told him outright that it sounded like a threat.

Later, I talked with my lawyer friend about this and they said maybe we could have used my dried mushroom to investigate more about this kind of mushroom, especially because S (who is, as I said, a witch) might be able to make something that can make us immune to the toxic spores.

I suggested this to them, but S said that "nothing good can come of it" and refused to, and that witchcraft always goes wrong whenever we used it (re: sizeshifting cat clones. Also, another friend E and I got turned into cats once because of a potions accident; it was a whole thing, don't worry, we're back to normal now). When they told me to throw the mushroom in, I faked it and threw in something else instead… I just couldn't do it. My mushroom never did anyone harm for as long as I've had it.

I couldn't keep it a secret for very long after that because my lawyer friend made me swear I did, and I ended up giving the mushroom to S so he could burn it.

AITA for wanting to keep the mushroom? I'm really sad just thinking about it now.

Edit 1: For context, S is the resident farmer and chef among our friends; O is the resident tinkerer/engineer/scientist guy, and we joke that he makes all of the rules.

Edit 2: It's been about a week and a half since the incident and S gave me a replica mushroom he made as a Christmas present. Should I forgive him?

[Out-of-universe disclaimers: The entire post would, in theory, have probably been written with the help of other rats because this would chronologically take place before "A Letter to Home". I'm hand-waving the "how they got the mushroom" part because r!Will canonically did not remember this, but let's just assume (for the purposes of this post) that we as fleas/chat reminded them of this by tracking the VODs.]

[This post was written at the request of @willowmvp.]

[Cross-posted on AO3 as "The Mushroom Incident".]

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

it must of been the dim twinkling of lights

When a strange bat wiggles his way into the attic during a blizzard Martyn suddenly begins to learn to let someone get close. A fun time at the rats' Christmas celebration ensues.

Words: 3575 CW: Light/Casual Drinking

A gift for @moo9395 for @mcytblrholidayexchange

AO3 here

The Attic was beginning to grow cold, enough so that more of the residents were sleeping away in their cozy nooks more often than not. It was one of those evenings where everyone had long fallen asleep and only a few rats were awake to starve off the cold with slightly too rowdy activities.

Jimmy, Martyn and Oli were playing a riveting game of Red Light Green Light. Martyn was currently it, headband over his eyes to stop from peeking. Oli was well in the lead, though Martyn might have been a bit more lenient on the trash rat than Tim. It wasn’t Martyn’s fault Jimmy’s loud puffing and huffing were just as fun as the game itself. The three had been at this for much longer than any of them cared to admit, the starting line having been pushed back numerous times to increase the difficulty until it was practically halfway across the attic. They had long since stopped caring if they woke anybody up, hoping someone else would join the game, but it had yet to happen.

“Red light!” Martyn shouted, pushing his headband up and nearly off his head as he watched his friends trip to a stop. Jimmy nearly completely titled over, waving his arms to stop himself from face planting. He thought about being mean and calling him out on it to send him back to the starting line, but Oli was one turn away from winning anyway, wouldn’t be any fun to give him the win now. 

“Alright fellas’,” Martyn grinned, a hand above his head to start the final race, “On your mark-”

“Oh, get on with it,” Jimmy cut in with frustration. 

Martyn went slower, wiggling his fingers by his headband, reading to pull it down again, “Get set-”

“This man is ridiculous,” Jimmy sighed as he tensed in anticipation, his paws digging into the hard wood to push off from.

“He’s a rat, not a man,” Oli piped, his New York accent not as thick as usual, not that Martyn would point it out (yet).

“It’s a saying,” Jimmy replied, despite it not really being a saying.

Martyn was just waiting for them to finish at this point, waiting a few extra seconds just to get on their nerves. “GRE-” 

Oli was pitching forward just as something loud thunked on the nearby window. He fell forward, chin hitting the floor after Martyn was cut short. Bit ironic after all the times Tim was waving his arms around to keep balance that it was Oli that was the first to fall. 

Martyn was too focused on the glass pane to do much more than wave off Oli’s soft “owie” as he stepped lightly towards the window. It was pitch black outside, the clouds had long since dotted out the stars, and snow was flurrying down in flakes half as big as them.

He could hear something poke and pry at the window until it was pushed open just a smidge, enough for some critter to crawl through, cold air and snow blowing in like waves.

“Oi! Close the window!” Jimmy shouted, throwing any caution to said wind of what might have opened the window and rushing straight towards it, climbing up to the sill. Some Safety Rat he was. 

Martyn, not wanting his friend to get hurt to his own hastiness, was quickly after him. Oli, not wanting to miss out on anything that could potentially be funny, was quickly after Martyn. 

Jimmy was the first up the sill, having been closest to it, but Martyn wasn’t far after since Jimmy also wasn’t the fastest (Red Light Green Light had proven that). “Now what’s the big deal up here?” Jimmy demanded. 

“Oh!” a voice, a bit posh and soft, said from just under the pane. A bat, big ears, brown fur, wrinkled nose and all, was trying to crawl into the attic. He squirmed now, looking unsure if he should keep trying to come in or push his way back out, “I didn’t know this attic was, er, occupied.” 

“Well it is,” Jimmy crossed his arms, ever the one to try and establish his authority, as if the first impression could ever weigh out his general personality of boisterous incompetence (which Martyn thought with love), “What’s your business here then?”

“Just looking for somewhere warm,” The bat answered, glancing back out the window. The snow was not letting up, and was just about covering the little guy from head to toe. There seemed to be an uncomfortable silence as the bat debated, “I can just go though. Don’t need to worry about me.” 

Yeah, Martyn may not be the nicest or most trusting or the most willing to just go along with anything like some of the other attic residence, but he also wasn’t cruel. Letting his guy back out in the snow, when not even the fluffiest rat was willing to go out earlier today? Letting this guy freeze to death? Marytn didn’t want that on his conscience. 

“Now hold on a minute. It’s too cold for that. We have enough room in here for one more,” he huffed, holding his hand out of the bat to take. 

Jimmy looked skeptical but immediately took a step to force the window open a little more, Oli joining in. The bat took Martyn’s hand and was pulled in. Once he was in Jimmy and Oli threw their weight to get the window back closed, enough of their sparsely warm air had escaped already, best to stop the rest from doing so. 

Standing on two legs the bat was much taller than Martyn had thought, even slouched as he was. Now Jimmy was still a good inch taller than the bloke, but the bat was about 5 inches tall, nearly surpassing Martyn’s height. Average for a rat, sure, but pretty big for a common bat. He was also dressed to the nines in a black suit: jacket, tie, shoes and all. Looked like a proper gentleman. 

“Thanks,” the bat said quickly, head nodding to them and hands fidgeting, “I honestly really didn’t want to go back out there.”

“Don’t blame you! It’s a proper storm out there,” Jimmy replied, taking a step back and brushing snow off his vest. 

“So what is your deal, huh? You’re no kind of rat I’ve ever seen,” Oli drawled, his New York accent dialed all the way up. Martyn vaguely wondered if he was asking stupid questions on purpose or if he really had never seen a bat before. 

The bat looked just as confused as Oli seemed, “I’m not- I’m a bat, mate. I’m not one of you, I- I- um-”

Martyn patted him on the back, silencing him and knocking snow off him in heaps. “We know. How about you just tell us who you are instead?” 

The bat nodded, shaking off the rest of the snow off his limbs, “The name is Mumbo Jumbo, or just Mumbo if you’d like.” 

“Well, Just Mumbo,” Martyn joked as he turned and gestured to the large area of their attic, “Welcome to the Attic! I’m Martyn and this is Jimmy the Safety Rat and Trash Rat Oli. Most everyone is asleep right now, so we’ll give you a tour later, but until then we can hang out. How about a change of clothes though? I’m sure you’re soaked through at this point.”

“Everyone?” Mumbo asked with a hint of nervousness (though to be fair everything he said sounded slightly nervous so far), but he quickly put the question aside at the mention of new clothes, “Do you have anything spare? That would be wonderful.” 

Martyn nodded, “I got you covered, come on, you look about my size and I got a few shirts tucked away.” 

“And I have some spare trousers,” Jimmy added, “Cause, no offense to Martyn, but I don’t think his are long enough for you.”

“He’s my height!” Martyn argued, stepping next to Mumbo and swishing his hand above his and Mumbo’s head, showing they were about the same. 

“His ears make him like an inch taller,” Oli chimed in. 

“Ears don’t count.” 

“He’s also slouching. Mumbo, stand up straight for me, just a moment,” Jimmy added with a grin and, unfortunately for him, Mumbo complied, and he was, if only by a few millimeters, taller than Martyn. Looking down at the bat’s legs– and they were definitely longer than Martyn’s. His spare trousers wouldn’t do. 

“Fine!” He relented, “I’ll grab the shirt and Timmy you grab your trousers. Meet back at the bar. Mumbo with me.” 

Jimmy and Oli headed off to Jimmy’s little corner of the attic to grab some clothes while Martyn took Mumbo to his, pointing out a few homes on the way. The attic wasn’t that big, but it had plenty of room to hold an awful lot of them. He could see Mumbo out of the corner of his eye nodding along to the names as he walked a step behind him. He also noticed Mumbo’s hands twisting in front of him, like he was perpetually shaking water off his hands, but if he turned to look at him then Mumbo’s hands would immediately shift to holding them still in front of his chest, avoiding eye contact. It was kind of like what Tubbo did when he was super excited but a lot more secretive and nervous. Martyn didn’t see why the guy was hiding his nervous jitters, being in a strange place with a lot of strange rats was the most reasonable time to be nervous, but Martyn wasn’t the type to try and show off his nerves either. Not that this guy was any good at hiding his nerves. 

“This is The At-Tick Bar, my pride and joy,” Martyn pointed it out, grinning at the lovely Christmas decorations adorning the front. “I live on the second floor. Come on.” 

Mumbo made no fuss as they walked in, though Martyn couldn’t help but puff up with pride as he could see the growing wonder in the bat’s eyes at all the detail he put into his business. “Quite a place you got here.” 

“Thank you! Just wait right here, I’ll grab you a shirt.” He ascended the stairs and went through his meager things. He didn’t have much and tried his best to grab the shirt with the least amount of holes. He came tromping back down to Mumbo running his hands over one of the decorations. 

Martyn watched for a moment, more just making sure he didn’t break anything, but it was also nice to see the guy start to relax a bit. It was a wonder if he had gone through something or was just naturally this anxious, but either way it wasn’t any of Martyn’s business right now.

“Got you something!” He called, dropping down the last few stairs. 

Mumbo jumped and spun around, hands flapping in indecision before flying behind his back. “Oh! Thank you.” He glanced at the article a moment before reaching out to take it. 

Martyn handed it over, the bat looking it over a moment, hands feeling over the fabric and, upon determining it good enough, started taking off his suit jacket. Martyn watched for just a moment before turning towards and out the door to wait for Oli and Jimmy. 

He could just hear the other two rats racing back, already bickering with one another. Oli just barely made it to the bar first, paw smacking against the door frame and barely missing Martyn.

“Ha! I win!” Oli declared. 

Jimmy barely managed to stop himself from crashing into the two of them, “No fair! You tripped me! As Safety Rat I declare that a hazard and the race completely void.” 

“Gosh you’re such a sore loser, Safety Rat,” Oli grumbled back. 

Martyn just rolled his eyes and snatched the dark-colored trousers from Jimmy. He turned back into the bar- “Hey, catch-” and tossed them at Mumbo, who fumbled to catch them. 

“Thanks,” he said again and barely gave Martyn a second to turn around before he was stripping the wet trousers for the dry ones. 

“Come out when you’re done!” He called, heading out the bar to the two bickering rats. The two of them had resorted to punching and chasing one another around Oli’s trashcan. He sighed and grabbed Jimmy by his high-vis vest, pulling him to a stop. “Oh, would you two knock it off!” 

Oli opened his mouth to argue, something about Jimmy throwing the first punch and not being able to take the heat or something like that, but was talked over by Jimny. “Is the bat alright? You think he’s gonna stay long?”

Martyn shrugged, “He’s nervous, that’s for sure. As for staying? Doubt it. No one stays longer than a few hours. If it wasn’t for the blimming blizzard I wouldn’t have let him in. The moment the sky clears, he’s heading out. If we’re lucky it’ll be before anyone else wakes up.”  __________________________________________________________

It was Christmas. Martyn felt silly as he was handing out presents. He wasn’t used to caring about others, especially not enough to get them gifts no strings attached. He’s certainly never did that for any of his children. Today however, he was dressed head to toe in a big red coat, trousers and hat, sack on his back, and humoring all the younger rats with their earnest belief that he was the real thing. Tubbo especially seemed one thousand percent certain he was the Santa, and seeing the unbridled joy on the kid’s face was just maybe payment enough. (OH boy, these rats were making him soft.)

Once the presents were handed out he made his getaway, waiting till he was fully out of sight of any of the more innocent rats before slipping back into his bar. He sighed as he drifted behind the counter, pulling the beard down under his chin, and going to pour himself a teensy drink before returning to the festivities. 

“Ah, there you are,” A voice spoke from the door and Martyn rushed to pull the fake beard back up. 

“I- er- I was just looking for some milk!” He tried to cover quickly, clearing his throat as he put on the deeper voice. 

Mumbo stood in the doorway, holding back giggles. “It’s alright Martyn, I know it’s you.” 

“Not so loud!” He shouted, waving the bat inside, “Come on in. Close the door. Don’t want anybody who was fooled by my wonderful performance to grow wise, now do we? Can’t be ruining the Christmas magic.” 

“I suppose not,” Mumbo agreed and did as Martyn said, stepping in and shutting the door. His suit was switched out with a red and green christmas sweater and a nice pair of jeans. His black eyes watched him with an almost alarming amount of fondness that Martyn had been ignoring well for the last few days. Here, alone, in his warm bar, it was a little harder not to see that the look was only for him. 

It had been nearly two weeks now since Mumbo climbed through the window and despite all odds, he was still staying in the attic. A few of them had tried to kick him out, Martyn included, but either Mumbo was really bad at picking up cues or very apt at ignoring them. Either way, every attempt to “accidently” push him out a window or helping him pack a suitcase (as in packing his stuff into a bag and pushing it into his hands) or very pointed questions about where he was off to next was met with honest laughter like they were all playing a silly prank on him. Even Scott’s very curt “get out” was met only with a confused chuckle and Mumbo avoiding Scott for several days. Either way, Mumbo never understood that they were trying to kick him out, and since they were all getting along (and Martyn was really starting to like his company) all the rats gave up trying and just decided to become friends with him instead.

Lizzie practically fell in love with him immediately, prone to feeding him treats from her bakery often (when she wasn’t hibernating that is). Tubbo and Jimmy got along with him great these days, pulling him to go on adventures to “help him break out of his shell”, which mostly just led to all three of them screaming as they ran from cats or the humans. Even Owen, who had wanted him gone the moment he saw him had started talking mechanics with him like they were old friends, apparently they both had a knack for it. 

“Did you want a drink?” He asked, taking off the fake beard entirely and setting it aside. He was already pulling out the two glasses. 

Mumbo sat at the bar. “Sure, why not. Whatever you’re having.” 

He nodded and set the glasses down, pouring each with a bit of scotch. He took a slow sip, smiling at the warmth that settled in his stomach. Mumbo copied him, only to choke and sputter, setting the glass down immediately. Martyn laughed at him. 

“That’s strong,” he wheezed. 

“Want water?” 

“No. No. I can handle it,” he tried to wave him off, going to pick his glass back up.

Martyn ignored him and got them both some water, holding the glass directly for Mumbo to take, “It’ll help. Make it taste better too.” 

Mumbo’s hand brushed his as he took the glass, both of them lingering. They both ignored their growing blush as they pulled away. Martyn took a longer sip of his scotch. 

“Y’know, I wasn’t expecting you to stay,” He said softly, swishing his drink side to side. “No one but rats have ever stayed this long.” 

“I didn’t think I was going to stay either,” Mumbo replied, sipping the water, “I wanted to get to know you more. You- You all- I wanted to get to know everyone a bit more. Y’know? Good company you all. Chaotic, reminds me of some old friends.” 

Martyn swallowed, leaning on the bar, “I’m glad you did. I liked getting to know you too. The last few weeks have been really nice, e- especially the time we spent, just the two of us. We should- uh- do that more.” 

He was saying too much. He hadn’t even finished a glass and already had loose lips. It had to be the warm air of the bar, or Mumbo’s ridiculously infectious smile, or the dim twinkling of Christmas lights that was making him say more. (He really had grown soft.)

“You- You look good in that sweater by the way. Red really suits you,” He continued.

“Really? Cause I’m kind of growing partial to the color green these days,” Mumbo said, reaching forward and pushing aside Martyn’s Santa coat a bit to show off his green shirt underneath. The gap between them was growing ever smaller. He rested his arms on the counter, looking up into Martyn’s eyes, “That or the color blue.” 

“Don’t say things like that,” Martyn said, bordering on a whine, carefully leaning closer, “You’re going to make me start thinking things.” 

“What kind of things?” Mumbo asked back. He wasn’t pushing away, though he was looking like he was losing his nerve, “Cause- Cause I was thinking that’d I’d quite like to kiss you.” 

“Well, if that’s the case,” Martyn mumbled as he leaned fully over the bar, eyes slipping shut as Mumbo did the same.

Their lips touched. Martyn could feel Mumbo’s scrunched up nose scrunch even more as he tasted the scotch that lingered on his lips, making him smile into the kiss. Mumbo’s chest shook with the beginning of giggles as he did. 

They pulled apart, just a few inches, a laugh building up in Martyn’s chest, “Should we-” 

“NO WAY!” A voice shouted from the door, making the two of them jump apart. Martyn glanced over just long enough to see it was Tubbo before dropping behind the bar to hide. “Were you- Were you KISSING SANTA?!” 

“Was I-?” Mumbo squeaked, “Now, hold on- Hold on a minute-”

Martyn hurriedly reached for his fake beard, trying to slip it on. Not that he quite had a plan for how to remedy this situation, but he was sure he would think of something.

“You were! You were kissing Santa!” He could hear Tubbo shouting and then, unfortunately, the sound of his paws scurrying away and his voice growing further but nonetheless louder, “RATS! RATS! MUMBO WAS KISSING SANTA!” 

“Oh pants,” Mumbo said, still sitting at the bar. 

Martyn popped his head back up, beard askew on his face, watching the door for a second before looking back to Mumbo. The bat’s whole face was red. He could just barely hear the exclamations of several others outside the bar hearing the news. 

“We’re screwed,” Martyn chuckled, face in his hands to stifle the laughter, “We are so fully screwed.” 

“Pants,” Mumbo repeated, though he was laughing now too, “What are we- What are we going to do, Martyn? They think I’ve gone and kissed Santa!” “We’ll figure it out,” He reassured, once again leaning over the bar, “In the meantime, want to do it again? Kiss Santa?” “Oh, shut it,” He huffed, reaching over to pull the beard down before closing that gap once again. 

The second kiss was just as perfect as the first. 

[hn-undercover-9503]

Originally put this on AO3 and decided to post it to Tumblr as well to spread my manifesto to the world :) please give me rat Ren please please please pow...pow I'm begging so much rn please

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

Martyn didn't understand. This shouldn't have been possible. And yet…here he was.

“Damn it, Doc.” He mumbled under his breath as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head with an unfortunately familiar paw-like hand. He could already feel his tail. It'd been a while, but he remembered the feeling of it. He also remembered using it to help him clamber his way up walls and through tiny holes in order to run away from giant humans living in a big mansion. He remembered all too well the feeling of being a rat.

He didn't think he'd ever be back here. Although, to be fair, he didn't recognize where in the world he was, at least not right off the bat. It definitely wasn't the same house, though. He seemed to have woken up in some kind of large contraption, considering all the gears and levers he was surrounded by. They made soft ticking noises as he tried to gather his thoughts, leading him to believe it was some kind of clock. He wondered if Owen was still here.

Whatever the case, it shouldn't have been possible for him to come back. He specifically remembered leaving this world through the portal, so why was it that he was back here again in the same tiny little rat body all over again? Unless…

No, that was stupid. There was no way they would put him in this body for one of those. That'd be ridiculous.

A loud chiming noise startled him, making his tiny heart race in his chest. He'd forgotten how it felt, being this small and vulnerable. Looks like he'd have to get used to it again, though. Well at least this world had been fun the last time, apart from the ordeal with pushing Krow through a random portal. Hopefully that wouldn't happen again.

He stood slowly, scanning his surroundings for where he could exit the clock. He could see what must have been its face, and was shocked when he saw the sheer size of it. It was easily ten times his own size and towered over his head, the second hand tick tick ticking away. He was just about to start looking around the mess of gears for a way down when he spotted something sitting at the clock face.

He frowned, squinting to try and get a better look. It was small, but not so small that he couldn't see it at all. Curious, he grabbed hold of one of the various levers around and hoisted himself up a few more inches to get a better look. From this distance, he could make out the shape of ears and a tail, and his heartrate picked up again. Was it another rat? Maybe a player! Maybe it was Oli again, that'd be nice. He was always a great companion in these worlds, and one of the few regulars he saw that he could say he was pretty sure they were a player and not an NPC–or worse, an agent.

He climbed up higher, trying not to let himself get too excited. The last world had been chaotic and he'd ended up having to abandon all of them in it, players and NPCs alike. And after all that, he still hadn’t been able to make contact with Doc. And, well, maybe he sort of just missed having somebody to talk to, alright? Sue him.

As he got closer to the clock face, he stopped as he heard soft mumbling. The voice sounded oddly familiar, but also didn't at the same time? It definitely wasn't Oli, unless he was playing a different character this time who didn't have the same accent. But no, this voice didn't sound like any of the rats he remembered, so why did it sound so bloody familiar?

“Hello?” He cupped his hands over his mouth and called up. “You up there! You alright?”

The mumbling stopped, followed by a shuffling sound. A moment later, the face of a rat poked over the edge of the wall where the clock face sat, slightly obscured by shadows. As he'd thought, this wasn't one of the rats he'd met in the last world. They must've been new. He watched as this rat broke out in a smile and leaped down from the wall to land on a gear close to where Martyn was balanced. Immediately, once he was level with this new rat, however, his breath caught in his throat.

No way.

“Hi there, dude!” The rat greeted with a wide grin, the pointed brown ears twitching. Of course he still had his stupid dog ears, even in this form. They were smaller, obviously, and slightly less pointy, but Martyn still really wanted to touch them. “My name's Ren! What's yours?”

“I'm–Martyn,” Martyn nearly choked on his own words as he looked over Ren's new form. He couldn't believe his eyes. Ren was really in front of him, in a world that wasn't one of those damn death games, in a world that was generally pretty peaceful and death didn't mean the end. Against his will, his eyes began to well up.

“Nice to meet ya, Martyn!” Ren reached up and pointed to the face of the clock. “Didn't know there was someone else in here with me. I was just trying to figure out how to get down. I really need to go find some food. I might starve if I stay here much longer.”

“Uh, yeah–yeah, same here. We should–” He sucked in a deep breath, forcing the stupid, traitorous burning feeling in his eyes to dissipate. “Let's try looking down. Can probably slip through the gears and find a way out through there.”

“Sounds good to me, dude!” Ren hopped down from his gear and moved to stand next to him, leaning over to look at the array of mechanical things below them. “You escaped from clocks before?”

Martyn laughed despite himself, joining the other on his search. “I guess you could say that. Say, you wouldn't happen to know where exactly we are, would you?”

“Oh, that's easy, dude!” Ren reached down and poked at a lever, which made a loud squealing noise as he did. “We're in Paris! The city of love, dude!”

Martyn chuckled to himself. “Yeah, alright. I can buy that.”

He didn't know what was going on. He didn't know why he was a rat again, or why it was in Paris, and he really had no goddamn idea why Ren of all people was here, but…

Well, you certainly wouldn't hear him complaining about it.

[feralwetcat]

Ok but imagine i have kids somehow qnd have to explain how i met my partner.. like.. yeahhh we met online.. where? Oh uhm..........wattpad.. like bro i do NOT wanna have that conversation if anybody asks we met during a school program or some shit

@taruulive hi hun

[mrtechlab]

Come get y'alls food

I have cheese for the rats here. I'm writing more fanficiton!

Doing a professor Techno, ghost Tommy, and very young adult Tubbo (and Phil of course, it wouldn't be right to leave him out) with the obvious found family trope and a side of ghost shenanigans. The goal however is to make you cry smiling.

I've got three pages out already and this is the happiest I've been with my writing so far. I don't like picking parts out so just take like the whole first page:

(Skip past the big ol' paragraph if you want quick dialogue)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The halls are chill and barely lit, a hollow echo of their usual life. Hundreds of students pass through them daily, bringing warmth and sound to cover the creaking of old floorboards and warped, rattling windows. Yet every night they leave, and the building descends into darkness. But there is no fear, only the comfort of holding a stuffed dog tattered more from love than age; it was ripped and repaired, held and thrown, old but never unfamiliar. The bones may settle and creak in the dark but their language is comfort. The sounds of Manberg University for History and the Arts are comfort to only a select few, but those few revere it. One’s out now, his footsteps muffled in the unevenly worn carpet. There’s no point to his walk besides the ritual of habit. Tonight the moonlight is soft and the breeze softer, the exhale of one more day. However this hall is dark and still, save for one set of windows. The drapes are undone from their usual quick, elegant knots and hang, heavy and tired. Like the walk, this too is a ritual. But unlike it, there is meaning behind the action. Light bathes the shallow niche, and a few hours from midnight would fill it exactly. A marble statue glows faintly, her eyes closed and smiling like a dreamer. She’s a companion when the nights get long, and the walker worries she becomes lonely too. There’s little cause for his concern; he wasn’t the one to open the curtains and let her feel the moonlight again. Every night the headmaster visits, a few hours before the man here now. He dusts, and fusses, and when the world is looking away he runs a calloused hand over her cold cheek, hoping for those few seconds it can again hold the warmth of life. And every night as he leaves the bronze plaque shines, never showing the many hands to pass over its carved lettering: Mrs. Trixtin, deeply loved and never forgotten. Never had any writing been truer.

The headmaster came hours ago and left the doors unlocked behind him. The hall may be closed, but the walker is always welcome.

“D’yah still think she would’ve liked me?” The boy speaks without an actual sound, no force to carry through an incorporeal throat. This is also a habit, the reassurance that someone he’s never met would have liked him, someone would have cared had they the time. 

“For the last time, Tom, yes.” The walker's voice, at least, breaks the quiet. “She would have liked you when you’re not being a nuisance during my classes. I still can’t speak on her love of pranks, but I like to think she wouldn’t encourage you.”

“That’s stupid, Mr. I-Know-Everything Blade. Just ‘cause you're both old doesn’t mean she hates pranks like you.” He huffs, something impressive considering the lack of air to move. “I’m Mrs. Trixten and I think Tommy should be given more people to influence for pranks” he sings in a high voice, throwing his head into and through the statue bust.

“I told you not to do that, Tom. Go have fun with the decorative armor stands, but not her.” He waves his hand through the air at Tom, more for the meaning of the motion than the hope of moving him. “It’s disrespectful.” He’d given up years ago on beating some respect into the kids head, and there was no else to see him or hear him use the wrong title anyway. It really was his fault for letting the students get away with Professor Blade, now Tom thought nicknames were fair game. At least only the headmaster knew he liked it, and even that was used as light blackmail. He really shouldn’t have done a demonstration for the week on Renaissance Duels.

“Maybe she’s still around here, and I just haven’t looked hard enough. It would be nice to have… someone else.” He gets what the kid means. They have each other, but it’s not the same. Tom wants someone dead, just like him. The kid had left the paralyzing confusion and fear behind, but having to exist without a single person that can feel the things you can is the worst kind of loneliness.

“I’m sorry, Tommy. I’ve been here so long, and even in the weeks after she was lost I saw nothing. I’ll admit I wasn’t looking very hard, I hadn’t known she could return until I met you. I’ll tell you immediately if I do, though.” 

“Thanks, Techno.” Tommy really meant it, there was no other time he’d use Techno’s real name. There was no better way to express the bond between a lost kid and the only person he could reach to, the only person who could ever help him. The cracks in Tommy’s brave face always appeared during these brief moments of vulnerability, and there was little either could do. So the living man and dead boy stood side by side watching the moon shift across the statue's features, each wondering how it felt to be loved so much.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[some-stupid-wannabe-artist]

if anyone is interested I wrote a Rats SMP fanfic about rat Owen being a robot.

[ice-cap-k]

Owen Had a Cough

Hey! Got a new story for part of the 2024 MCYT Horror Gift exchange ( @mcythorrorgiftexchange ). This is for the amazing @some-stupid-wannabe-artist. I hope I did your request justice. It was honestly a lot of fun. Been a while since I bothered with Rats.

It's longer than my old whumptober stuff, so feel free to read it on AO3 here: Owen Had a Cough

____________________________________________________

Owen had a cough.

It wasn’t that surprising, since Scott had found the other rat passed out at the entrance to the boiler room. His friend had been down there for a long time, breathing in air that had been festering in the quarantined room. The basement had been downright hazy with all of the airborne spores. And Owen, well, Scott figured the bigger rat had gotten off lucky if all he had to show for such a stupid stunt was a little cold. 

He told Owen what would happen if someone went in there. The larger rat could be almost impossible to sway once he set his mind to something, so of course he decided to set his sights on fixing the infestation down there. First the bugs, then the fungus. Scott just wished his best friend had told him. Then he wouldn't have found him crawling on his belly four days since the last time they saw each other.

Other than that, though, the tinkerer seemed alright. He had apologized and admitted Scott had been right. Those words would have been like music to Scott’s ears if he hadn’t been worried half to death for the sake of his friend. Owen promised to never go down there again, which had given Scott some sense of relief, and life moved on. 

The cats were still a problem. The people living downstairs still chased them and their friends whenever they ventured out of the attic. And just today there were tiny little termites they’d gone to the effort of rehoming. But hey, life in the attic was full of surprises, so even that was typically atypical. Despite looking half dead on his feet the morning before, the large rat was starting to bounce back.

He was even leading the way as they raced back up to the attic with the others. Claws scrabbled at the red carpets lining the halls. The trash talk was flowing freely, and the bathroom was in sight.

“Oh, come on. I’m already at a tactical disadvantage with this dress,” Martyn huffed. His claws hooked over the edge of the side table. Owen was already pouncing off the edge towards the mouse hole in the wall. There was no catching up now so Scott turned to help haul Martyn up. Willow and Crow passed by beneath the table legs, still aiming for the doorway. 

“Thanks, Scott,” Martyn breathed. He smoothed out the wrinkles of his maid’s dress with padded fingers as Scott leaned against a nearby plant pot. 

The ceramic was cool against the fur lining his bare back and the hall was quiet, save for the excited squeaks of the returning rats. The cats were nowhere to be seen. The human residents were busy elsewhere. They were free to enjoy themselves without worry for a little while.  How everyone else wasn’t tired yet was beyond Scott. His lungs hurt from all the running on top of all the laughter. This place was making him soft. 

“Of course,” he said absently, mind already back on the race. Even if he wasn’t physically keeping up, his eyes followed Owen as his best friend leaned out of the chewed-out hole. 

“Oh no you don’t!” he squeaked as the two smaller rats passed beneath him. 

Scott flicked his ears back as he watched Owen launch himself from the wall. His arms and legs splayed as he dropped. A star-shaped shadow passed over Willow and Crow. The two rats had just enough time to look up. They were already running, but Owen’s aim was true and he crashed into Crow with a pained WHUMPF! Both of them went rolling tail over ears across the floor, knocking over Willow in the process and leaving all three of them sprawled and groaning. 

It was just a bit of roughhousing. They were rats. Scott himself had leaped off the tallest bookshelves in the library and safely landed paws first on the tile more times than he could count. Despite knowing that, though, concern drove him forward. He pushed off the pot and was leaning over the edge of the table in an instant. His eyes raked over the three for signs of injury. His ears twitched at the rustle of fabric behind him. Martyn was there, looking over his shoulders.

“Is everybody ok?” he called.

“I’m okay,” Willow called back almost immediately

Crow managed to untangle its limbs from Owens. It rubbed at its head with a paw, claws parting strands of red and black fur until Scott could almost make out its eyes. “Owww-ow-ow-owww,” it groaned.  “That really hurt. I think you bruised my tail. What were you-”

Its words were cut off by a drawn-out, wet cough. While Willow and Crow brushed themselves off and stood up straight, Owen only rolled over. He curled up into a ball, pulling his knees up to his chest but unable to keep them there. His arms wrapped around his heaving midsection as his whole body shook. 

His coughs were like nails on a chalkboard to Scott. Wet and shaking, they wracked his friend’s lungs and rattled his ribcage with each one. 

It was easy to forget that Owen wasn’t at one hundred percent until moments like these. They weren't short either. The gaps between stolen intakes of breath were long and drawn out. The coughing fit seemed to last an eternity if eternity could be packed down and contained in the span of minutes.

“Are you okay, Owen?”

“Try taking deep breaths.”

“My mum used to say it helps to put your arms up over your head. If you can hear me, try that.”

Owen did try. It was a feeble attempt, but his arms only left his torso long enough for the tips of his fingers to reach his shoulders before another wheeze sent him curling back into himself. 

So yeah, Owen had a cough. 

Martyn whistled. His voice was quiet in Scott’s ears. “He really is getting sick. I suppose that’s what you get for not drying off after a dip in the pond.”

He didn’t answer. Only slipped off the edge of the table to rush to his friend’s side. 

Let the others think that. If Owen hadn’t told anyone else about going past the plastic sheets in the basement, then it wasn’t Scott’s place to tell that story. Owen would be so angry if he thought Scott went around telling people things he might be too embarrassed to talk about. 

“Come on now, Owen. Let’s get you up. You’re okay.” 

His friend didn’t protest as he looped his paws under the taller rat’s armpits and pulled. Now he could feel firsthand the way every muscle in Owen’s body tensed and untensed with the dwindling coughs. The way his lungs practically vibrated around the fluid there. Getting Owen upright helped. His lungs didn’t have to work so hard to keep up. Scott let him go to see if he could stand on his own, and the hacking noises subsided. He looked tired out from all that effort, but at least his breathing had returned to normal.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He sounded tired too. 

“Ya sure,” Crow asked. There was still an edge of annoyance in its words, but it was duller now. Its tail was no longer whipping around frantically. Rather, Crow and Willow were standing close and shifting uncomfortably from side to side. 

Owen nodded. The corner of his lips pulled back into a half smile. “I’m sure. Just needed a second, but I’m good.”

“Good. Then apologize.”

“What!?” Owen looked affronted. “Why?”

Crow crossed its arms in front of its chest. “Because you cheated.”

“Did not.”

“Did so!”

“Did not! I was just being creative and came up with a new way to beat you both.” Owen’s smile lengthened to a full-blown grin as he looked from Crow to Willow. “Besides, neither of us made it to the attic so it’s not like I won at your expense.”

“You could keep going,” Martyn chimed in from where he was still standing on the tabletop. 

“Ah… I think it would be a good idea to call it a day,” Scott insisted. He wrapped a paw around Owen’s arm and gently tugged. “Let’s get behind the tub and up to the attic.

To his credit, Owen didn’t argue back or struggle. He looked too tired for that. Instead, the bigger rat let him tug him along and then kept going toward the top as Scott let him go. The tile was cool underfoot. The smell of floral soap was sweet and fresh. The path behind the tub was clear, almost like the bathroom itself was welcoming them home.

“I think that might be for the best. It’s been a long day,” Owen finally admitted, standing a little straighter as he strutted across the room. “It doesn’t really matter who wins anyhow.”

“Yeah, but I totally would have won,” Crow muttered, and Willow giggled. 

Scott smiled. This was much better. He and the others were just about to follow Owen when the sound of scrabbling caught their attention. It was coming their way. Everyone tensed, turning to see the source of the noise.

So help Scott, if that was a cat on its way-

A familiar purple shape came bobbing down the hall towards them. Scott felt himself let go of the breath he hadn’t meant to hold while the others began to relax around him. 

“Took you long enough, didn’t it,” Martyn shouted with a bark of a laugh.

The rat came to a stop behind Scott and doubled over. His breath was coming in heavy pants, despite the slow jog. The loser of the race that was no longer taking place. “Hey,” Acho finally managed to sputter as he reigned in his breathing. “What did I miss?”

___________________

Scott padded down the steps leading from his home to the main floor of the attic. 

His flower garden was still alive, despite the incoming cold, and the vegetable patch he had managed to throw together was one of the rats’ main sources of food now that snow covered the ground. The sunlight coming through the attic windows was just enough for his plants to keep growing, and it made his new home feel a little bit closer to his old one. 

Now that he had more than enough food for himself, he was consistently helping to keep everyone fed. Just earlier this morning he and Owen had sat down together for lunch. Scott had thrown together all the food. Now he was stepping away from his cooking pots with chicken soup, ready to be passed out to anyone looking for a warm meal.

He handed out full bowls to Oliver and Sniff, then Shelby, then Jimmy. With each rat fed, Scott had a nice chat to catch up before saying goodbye and moving on. When he stopped by Eloise’s art gallery, he was surprised to find El and Bek arguing inside.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that,” Bek was saying. She leaned against the wall in between frames of paintings, watching El pace back and forth. 

Not daring to say a word, Scott reached out and wrapped his knuckles against the side of the open doorframe. Thump thump thump.

The two rats looked up in surprise, only to relax as they realized it was only him. “Hey, Scott.”

“Hi!” He stepped into the room. “Brought some chicken soup.”

Bek’s ears perked up. She pulled away from the wall with a smile. “Oooh! That sounds quite good right now, actually.”

“I brought plenty for both of you. Here.” He held one bowl out to El. “And here.” Then he shuffled across the hollowed-out room to pass another to Bek. Both brightened as they took it.

“So, is everything alright?” he asked, glancing back and forth between the two. “You two looked pretty serious a second ago.”

Bek shrugged. She slurped loudly, drinking the broth directly from the edge of the bowl in loud gulps. Scott tried to offer a spare spoon, but she didn’t take it when he held it out.

“Bek, please…” Eloise groaned.

The shorter rat lowered the bowl and smacked her lips. “Sorry. I don’t think anything’s wrong. El’s just being weird about things again.”

“I am not,” the taller rat snapped. “If anyone’s being weird, it’s Owen.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Is it his cough again?”

“No.” She said immediately, then hesitated. She silently weighed her words in her head, tail flicking restlessly before she amended, “Okay, yes, technically. He was definitely still coughing today, but that’s not the real issue this time.”

The cough wasn’t the issue? What scheme could Owen possibly be getting up to this time?

Scott folded his arms in front of his chest. “Then what was the issue?”

“He’s being weird. He’s acting really weird and I don’t like it. Me and Bek got back from a pantry run and when we walked into the gallery, Owen was just… I don’t know. Sitting in a corner in the lower level?” She flung her spoon towards the open door leading to the scaffolding platform and still bare white walls that were waiting for future masterpieces. “Like, there was nobody else here. He just had his head resting against his knees, arms wrapped around his legs, like he was taking a nap. The light was off too, so I didn’t see him right away.”

Bek shivered. “Gave me a real fright, when you turned the light on and he shot to his feet. You screamed.”

“So did you,” El shot back. “Neither of us saw that he was here until the light came on.” 

Scott tilted his head. That certainly was… unusual. “Okay. Yeah. You’re right, that’s weird. What was he doing?”

“See!” Eloise straightened. She dropped the spoon back into her soup so she could scratch at the side of her head with free claws. “That’s what I asked him. All he said was that the dark felt nice, and then he rushed out.”

“Felt nice…?”

“We’ve been trying to figure out what he meant by that for the past half hour,” Bek added. “Eloise’s convinced the human girl slipped him some potion that’s turning him nocturnal-”

“We’ve already had to deal with potion issues.  I don’t understand why you think it’s so far-fetched. I still vividly remember getting turned into a CAT of all things!”

“But I think whatever cold he caught is just making him tired.” Bek finished.

He waited patiently for either of them to continue. For them to take the conversation somewhere else, or break into laughter and call it all a joke. When they didn’t, he awkwardly twitched his tail. They were both looking at him expectantly, waiting to see how he would reply. “Uh, I think Bek might be onto something.”

“See!”

Eloise was still balancing the bowl of soup in one paw, but she threw the other into the air and groaned. “Fine. Sure. I know mine sounds crazy in comparison, but neither of you saw his eyes. I swear, they were glowing when he looked at me.”

Bek scoffed. “Eyes don’t glow.”

“His did,” El insisted. “I swear, they really were glowing. Owen’s eyes aren’t supposed to be bright blue like that.”

Her words sounded sincere. There wasn’t a teasing bite, or smile pulling at the side of her lips. No twitch in the corner of her eye from struggling to keep a straight face. She was serious.

Scott’s tail went ramrod straight. “Blue? You’re sure?” 

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Did either of you think to go after him to check if he was alright?”

The two girls exchanged side glances before turning back to him and answering in unison.  “No.”

Of course they hadn’t.

Scott brought his paw up to his forehead. He pressed his palm against the center of his forehead as if it could chase away the headache that was starting to develop there. He took a deep breath in and sighed. “Which way did he go? I think I’m going to go check up on him and make sure everything’s alright.”

“He turned right when he ran out the door,” El said. “Not sure where he went, since he didn’t stick around long enough to let us ask. We’ll go with you and help you look for him.” She stepped forward. The now cold bowl of soup was placed on a nearby shelf next to the bowl Bek had just finished emptying. 

“We will?” Bek asked.

El nodded once more. “We will.”

Scott was grateful for the help. He didn’t argue as both girls followed him out of the gallery. With more eyes searching, they checked high and low across the attic. As they went, Scott dropped off more bowls of chicken soup and asked around if anyone had seen which way Owen went. It was Oli who eventually pointed them in the direction of the little food mart. 

Sure enough, Owen was inside the brick build rummaging through the chest inside. He pulled out a rather limp-looking bunch of lettuce leaves and began to nibble as they spotted him. 

“Owen,” Scott called. He rushed to the door with Bek and El hot on his heels. His best friend turned, eyes wide. They were notably not blue.

“Hey guys,” he greeted, waving the lettuce in his paw at them. “What’s up?” 

 “We were looking for you.”

“Yeah!”

 Eloise shoved her way forward. “What is wrong with you?!?” She had to squeeze into the small mart to do it, and the room was starting to get too cramped. Bek tried to follow, but she was too wide to fit in the small space and quickly gave up. Instead, she pressed herself against the glass window and watched with ears pinned back against her head. 

“Wh-” “Eloise and Bek told me that they saw you napping in the art gallery,” Scott supplied. 

“Oooooh, so that’s what you mean…” He looked a little sheepish as he put the leaves in his paw on top of the chest. “I wasn’t napping. I was just, you know… enjoying the dark.”

Eloise planted one paw on her hip. “You know that makes no sense whatsoever, right?”

“Don’t know what to tell you. It just felt nice. Good on the eyes, and the wall felt cool. It’s not like I thought much about it-” Before Owen could finish his sentence, Scott could hear the breath catch in his chest and rattle. The big rat doubled over, and both Scott and El backed away to give him space. Owen kept his elbow firmly over his mouth as the watery coughs took hold. When he finally managed to reign his breathing back in, he lowered his arm and opened his eyes.

Scott could have sworn he saw the briefest flicker of blue. Or maybe green? Something bright and alien to Owen’s dark eyes. But the color was there and gone in the blink of an eye. Had he just imagined it? Perhaps it was a trick of the light?

“Well, maybe you should go back to your clock and take a nap,” El snapped. She looked disgusted as she backed out of the room. “Get some good rest and get over that cold.” 

Owen let himself slump against the side of the food chest. “That… that might not be a bad idea,” he admitted. “The going back to the clock part. No promises on the nap.” 

Where seconds ago Owen had seemed content and full of life, the sudden coughing fit appeared to have drained all of that out of him. He looked tired now. Drawn out. Like some of the color had leached right out of him. It hadn’t even been that violent or lengthy of a fit. He often had much worse as of late.

Not to be put off by Eloise’s reaction, Scott readily offered his paw out to Owen. “How about we all go back to your clock? I’ve got plenty of chicken soup you can have if you get hungry.”

“That does sound pretty nice...”

Owen took his offered paw, and Scott tried not to focus on the way Owen’s fingers felt clammy and cold between his claws.

____________________

Christmas time was getting close and the attic was abuzz with excitement. Plans for a Secret Santa gift exchange were underway. All the rats were finding themselves a part of the holiday season rush as they prepared their gifts. 

Martyn had taken charge of this one. He had set up the whole event, convincing everyone that the best way to celebrate the Christmas season was with homemade gifts from the heart. He had set up the raffle to decide who would be giving their gifts to whom. He was the one who had set up the post box outside of the bar for everyone to submit their names for the event. He had even done up the entire building in some of the most over-the-top seasonal decor Scott had ever seen and the farm rat was loving it. 

Tis the season, and Scott was embracing it as much as anyone. He had already planned on giving a gift to everyone, but there was no way he was going to turn down the opportunity to join in on a Secret Santa. That just meant that the name on his list would get two presents instead of one. Scott was ready to go all out for it. 

Yes, it seemed like the holiday season had started to help some of the rats calm down and put to rest some of the old squabbles that had been going on for some time now. They had something to focus on, nice deeds to do, super cute decorations to put up, and the occasional visitor coming in from the cold outside to make their day a little more topsy turvy. That was where most of the excitement came from nowadays: the random people who just sort of showed up. Other than them, life in the attic was pretty peaceful.

So Scott was surprised when, late one night when he was ready to drop off his note at the bar post box, he heard frantic shouting and horrible retching noises. 

He froze about ten paces away from the bar. His fingers clutched tight around his book as something slammed and there was another shout. What on Earth was going on? 

He swiveled his ears to get a better listen. That was Martyn’s voice. What he thought was incoherent shouting turned into panicked, somewhat broken words. 

“Oh geez. I can’t believe… Ugh! Oh, come on! Why you… I just- You know, you’re lucky I don’t bar you from the bar again. Keep it in the can. That’s it. Deep breaths… There you are. Oh! Uh… Good lord! That’s so gross. You know, I’ve already got one crime seen taped off at this establishment! I don’t need another!”

Martyn’s babbling was repeatedly broken up by the sound of someone gagging and the splash of something wet hitting metal. 

Scott crept forward on soft paw steps. He was not sure what he had stumbled upon, but Martyn sounded close. Keeping his tail low to the ground and book against his chest, Scott inched his way around the side of the building until he could make out Martyn’s back in the dim lighting. 

Martyn’s ears were pinned against his head. His tail twisted with discomfort, and his eyes were looking everywhere but at the figure slumped over the tin can next to him. He was rubbing his scarred arm back and forth along their back like he was trying to comfort them, but the motions were stiff. 

Another retch split the air. Another sound like a garden hose being switched on, and the figure’s shoulders heaved. Martyn flinched. 

“You didn’t even have anything to drink,” the barkeeper mumbled.

“Is everything alright?” Scott called.

Martyn patted the other person’s back once more before turning to face him. He looked queasy himself. “We’ve got a bit of a mess in the bar right now,” he said with a grimace. “I wouldn’t suggest going in there at the moment.” 

“And who is that? Are they alright?”

“It’s Owen,” Martyn said simply. 

Sure enough, the next gag turned into a cough so ragged it sounded like ripping fabric.

“And I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know if he is alright,” Martyn continued. “He came here asking about details for the Secret Santa. Seemed fine one moment, and then threw up all over the entryway the next. And the counter. And my back room when I tried to bring him out here.” He gestured towards the bar’s back door. There were a few wet spots near the doorway that Martyn pointed to that Scott didn’t want to focus on too closely. “And before you ask, I didn’t pour him so much as a glass. Alcohol’s got nothing to do with this one.”

“I can believe that,” Scott nodded. He dared to inch closer. A sour smell hit his sensitive nose when he came within a tail’s length of the two other rats. Sure enough, it was Owen. His goggles had been tossed to the side, out of the way as his head hung in the tin can Martyn was using as a rubbish bin. His clothes looked crumpled and wrinkled. His tail and ears hung limp. “Oh, Owen,” he breathed, already pitying his poor friend. 

“Hey, Scott…” Owen’s words echoed and warped around the edges of the can. His voice sounded small.

“Are you feeling worse?”

“I’m fine.”

Martyn snorted. “Tell that to my carpets.” 

Owen’s ears drooped a little bit lower. “Sorry about that.” 

The apology seemed to take Martyn off-guard. Owen didn’t normally apologize so easily. Not without a couple of jokes or light teasing mixed in for good fun. It made Scott want to ask his friend ‘What’s wrong with you,’ but he knew he probably wouldn’t get an honest answer, let alone an honest one. 

“That’s alright,” Martyn finally said, giving Owen another gentle pat on the back. “I’ll just clean it up-” Owen pitched forward into the can again and dry heaved. Martyn yanked his paw away and stuck his tongue out, clearly struggling not to gag as well. “I’ll clean it up later. Blegh!”

Scott stepped up to place his paw on Owen’s shoulder. His grip tightened slightly when Owen’s heaving stopped and his friend relaxed into his grip. “You go ahead and clean up your bar now, Martyn. I can stay out here with him for a while.”

Martyn’s blue eyes narrowed at him. He almost looked relieved as he glanced back and forth between Owen and Scott. Only the twitching of his tail tip hinted at his hesitance to leave Owen while he was still like this. “You sure?”

“It’s fine. He’s my best friend. I can watch him.”

That seemed to be enough to convince the barkeeper. “Thanks, Scott. I’ll come back out here once I take care of Owen’s mess.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Owen grunted into the can.

“I know,” Martyn said before stepping back into the bar and pulling the back door closed behind him. 

The back of the bar was quiet for a moment. The only noise was the slight scrape of Owen’s nails against the bin and the rise and fall of their breathing. Scott was half afraid that if he tried breaking the silence, the pause in Owen’s coughing and retching would end and all of his troubles would come rushing back. Instead, Scott lowered himself onto the floor where there didn’t seem to be any suspicious-looking puddles. He crossed his legs out in front of him and pressed one shoulder against Owen’s side. 

It was Owen who broke the silence first. “Why are you here, Scott?” His voice didn’t sound so small this time. 

Scott shrugged. “I was going to turn in my book for Secret Santa when I heard the commotion.”

“Oh…”

“You?”

“Something similar. I wanted to talk to Martyn about the chances of someone not being able to make it to the gift exchange.” 

“What did he say?”

“That a gift could be given to someone else who can give it to the right person on the day of. Or we could just arrange to swap gifts with a delivery. I didn’t get the chance to ask him about when it would get delivered.”

“Oh.” 

They fell into silence once more. A moment passed where Scott could feel Owen shiver. His muscles locked up and claws dug into the rim of the can. Scott braced himself for the sound of gagging, but it never came. Owen’s breath quickened, then gradually slowed back down. His muscles untensed, and the threat passed. As he relaxed, he let himself slide down the side of the can to sit next to Scott. 

When Scott looked over, his dark eyes flickered blue-green in the low light.

“I really think I might be okay now,” he said slowly. “I think the worst of it has passed.”

“You should still stay right here, just in case. I don’t think you should be taking any chances right now.”

Owen winced. “I think that’s fair.” 

“You’re sick.”

“Maybe,” Owen huffed. Even now, he couldn’t sit back and accept that it might be true. “I could have just had something bad to eat.”

“What have you eaten so far today?”

Owen’s face instantly fell into a regretful frown. “Or maybe not. It probably wasn’t the food.”

“Why? What all did you eat?”

“The last thing I ate was the dinner you offered me.”

Scott had prepared a nice picnic basket with cabbage rolls, fruit salad, and ratatouille. They had enjoyed a nice outing on Owen’s balcony, bundled up against the brisk winter chill. They were all dishes Scott had made countless times before. None of them could possibly have made Owen that ill. 

Before Scott could ask him about lunch, the other rat hunched his shoulders and started coughing once more. It was gargled and sharp. The ripping noises that shook his lungs were enough to make Scott want to pull his chef’s hat down over his ears to keep the sound out. As the sound of Owen's hacking grew weaker and eventually died out, Scott watched Owen turn to spit into the can. 

“Your cough doesn’t seem to be getting any better,” Scott mused. 

“I know…” he said, annoyance and exhaustion evident in his voice. “It’s such a pain and it won’t go away.”

“Have you been resting?” 

“As much as normal.”

“Any more weird instances of hiding in dark rooms?”

“Scott…” Owen’s tone was bitter.

“I’m not going to complain. Getting a few more naps in would be good for you. So have you?”

“Maybe, but it’s not napping.”

“Uh-huh.” Scott didn’t believe him. “It’s winter, Owen. You never really stopped to slow down after you went into the basement. I think if you want it to get any better, you should take a few days and stay in bed.”

Rather than complain, or wave Scott off and say that he was fine, Owen seemed to seriously consider his words. His arm snaked over his waist. He clutched at his stomach like it was threatening to spill its contents again. “Do you think that would help?”

“I don’t think it would make anything worse to try.”

Owen brought his head up only to let it fall back against the can. Thunk! “Aw, but it’s going to be boring staying in bed all day.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll come to visit. And so will the others. We’ll keep you busy while you take it easy.”

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good. Can we get out of here now, then? I think I want to go home.”

Scott pointed to the paw still wrapped around Owen’s waist. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Honestly…yeah,” he said. The grip he had on his stomach loosened. “It doesn’t feel like my stomach is on the edge of bursting anymore. It kind of feels stable now, you know?”

“Mm-hm,” Scott hummed. He bumped his shoulder once more against Owen’s and then unwound his legs so he could stand up. “I’ll go tell Martyn we’re going to get you home.” 

The barkeeper hadn’t made his way back out to them yet. Scott had a feeling it would be a while before Martyn finished cleaning his bar up. While Owen and Martyn didn’t always see eye to eye, Martyn would probably appreciate being told that they were leaving. The alternative would mean heading out without saying a word and letting Martyn come back to an empty back of the bar and no clue whether Owen was alright. Considering how he had been trying to comfort Owen when Scott first got here, it was probably safe to assume Martyn would appreciate the heads-up.

That and Scott still had his book to drop off. He was already here, after all.

Owen thumped the back of his head against the can once more. He tilted his head back so he could smile appreciatively up at Scott.  “Thank you.”

“And I’m going to ask if he has a bag or something we can take with us, in case you get sick again on the way back.”

The smile fell into a frown so suddenly, that Scott couldn’t help but laugh.

He brushed his dungarees off as he stood. His tail, cramped from being sat on for so long, gave an experimental wave to work the pins and needles out. Then he picked his way past Owen and the can.

Some morbid curiosity took hold of Scott at that moment. Before he reached the door, his gaze passed over the rim of the rubbish bin. It was still pretty dark, but he could make out the wet shine of the puddle at the bottom. 

Scott was no doctor, but he guessed that the dark red tinge to it wasn’t natural. Not considering what Owen had claimed to eat most recently.  Nor were the fleshy, glowing cyan chunks floating on top.

___________________________

Owen was finally getting some rest. 

Scott didn’t even have to beg him to stay in bed. He didn’t have to pester his friend with apologies and nervous requests to stay put. Owen didn’t fight him on anything anymore and didn’t complain about being cooped up in his room at the top of the clock.

That’s how bad it was.

It had Scott on edge.

The farmer rat couldn’t sit still. He busied himself coming over to visit all the time. Owen’s clock wasn’t messy, but Scott busied himself trying to clean some of the lower levels. He chewed on chunks of wood and wool, shaping them into nice things he could work into his Christmas gifts for the others. And when he ran out of ideas for things to do with what was already here, he took it upon himself to bring his hobbies closer and reduce his number of trips away from the clock.

Owen didn’t have a kitchen, but that didn’t stop Scott from hauling over his pots, pans, or even an entire stove so he didn’t have to stray too far to cook up a few meals. 

Most bowls and platefuls went to the many rats who came to visit their bedridden friend. It gave them a chance to stick around longer if they had a meal at the ready. Some meals were brought up to Owen. Soups proved especially difficult to carry while climbing up the gears to Owen’s room, but Owen was always grateful to Scott for bringing them. A few dishes were whipped up purely for himself. A rat’s gotta feed himself, too. 

Every time he poked his head into the dark bedroom, he would catch a flicker of blue-green before Owen registered that he was there and would greet him. Once, Scott made no attempt to make his presence known when he entered the bedroom. He didn’t knock against the door frame or call out, assuming that Owen would simply spot him in a moment or two. He did not. Scott waited, and waited, and watched as Owen simply stared at the blank wall. There was nothing to see. It was too dark for him to make out the natural grain of the wood. His unfocused eyes stared, and now Scott fully believed Eloise’s claim that Owen’s eyes glowed in the dark. 

And yes, Owen still had the cough.

A couple of days on bed rest seemed to have no effect on the malady. If anything, it was worse. They kept a thimble on the side of the bed at all times now. When Owen felt a coughing fit coming on, he would reach for the bucket and hold it close. As the coughs shook his body, he would sometimes cough up… something.

The first time Owen coughed it up, they hadn’t thought to have the thimble nearby. His friend had done the best he could and leaned over the side of the bed when something solid and wet went splat against the wooden floorboards. Scott had to clean that one up. Whatever it could have been was solid. Soft, but solid. Pulpy. It was always an unnatural mix of teal and orange.

Funny. He normally liked those colors together. Now though… This wasn’t cute.

The night behind the bar had been dim, but he still recognized it as the stuff he had seen in the tin can.

Scott had no clue what it was supposed to be.

After that, Scott made sure Owen had a thimble at all times. He instructed his friend to cough into it whenever he could. Then Scott could take care of the mess later. 

That proved to be somewhat difficult. Not even trash rat would bother with it. They were banned from tossing it in his dumpster. Scott was left to try digging shallow holes in the frozen ground outside to bury it or burn it in the family room fireplace when the coast was clear of cats.

He came back from one of those expeditions to find Eloise and Bek standing outside Owen’s clock.

“How’s he doing?” El asked as he approached.

Scott shrugged. “He’s still sick. Still coughing.”

“That bites.” Bek kicked her bare foot against the floorboard with a frown. She cast her gaze across the rest of the attic, eyes lingering on their neighbors’ homes. “It’s a shame there are no doctors up here.”

“I agree. None of the home remedies that we used on the farm are working.” He patted his palm against the thimble. Claws clicked against its side on impact. “I just got done emptying this for, what? The fourth time today? You don’t suppose the humans downstairs have some medicine?”

Eloise tilted her head. “That work on rats? I doubt it.” 

“Want some help?” Bek offered. 

El reached into her pocket and pulled out something that looked like a covered bowl. Through the see-through top, Scott could make out a bright red-ish orange liquid sloshing around. It was thicker than water or juice. As she held it out towards him, something spicy made his nose twitch. “Yeah. As I said, no doctors here, but I had a thought,” she said. “How about a home remedy? Back in the city, there were these places that sold food. And in their kitchens, they had all these pretty bottles of tasty sauces. There was one my family would use whenever we got sick. Called it hot sauce. Burned going down, but it helped clear the sinuses.”

Scott tilted his head. “He’s coughing, El. Not sneezing or blowing his nose. I’m not sure that will work.”

“Aren’t those things normally connected?”

“Are they?”

“Probably,” Bek chimed in with a noncommittal shrug. 

Scott’s tail lashed as he considered his options. That stuff smelled pretty strong. She called it a sauce, so it was like food. “He’s supposed to eat it?”

Eloise nodded. “We would put it on our dinner.”

At worst, they could run to get Owen some milk if it was too hot. He didn’t think a bite of something spicy would necessarily make the cough worse.  

“Sure,” he relented. “I guess it’s worth a shot. Come on. Let’s run it by Owen and see what he thinks.” He waved towards the opening at the base of the grandfather clock and started padding towards the entrance. The three of them shuffled inside, only to be greeted by the muffled sound of coughing. Scott sighed. “There he goes again.” 

“He sounds worse,” Eloise said, tipping her head to look up past the levels of gears lining the inside of the clock. 

“It’s dark, too,” Bek noted. “Is he doing that thing where he hides in the dark?”

“He’s still in the bed. Not hiding,” Scott supplied. “But the dark seems to help.”

She clicked her tongue. “Rather odd.”

He wasn’t about to disagree. 

The two girls waited long enough for him to grab a bowl full of chicken soup from his pot. They could put the sauce into that for Owen to try. Then they scrabbled up the gears to the sound of Owen’s hacking and wheezing. It drowned out the sound of their claws scraping against brass and nickel. It took a few leaps, and both El and Scott had to help Bek pull herself up the last ledge. 

Owen was still coughing as they reached to top. Scott’s ears drooped as he heard a pained wheeze between intakes of breath. He could tell the sick rat was getting tired. 

“Owen!” Scott called as he led the two girls toward their friend's room. “You alright? Eloise and Bek came by.”

“Hey th-” Owen couldn’t even finish up the greeting as they stepped into the room. He was curled up in bed, gripping the covers as he leaned over and shook with each raspy breath. Scott picked up the pace until he was at the bedside, holding the thimble out for his friend. Owen took it with a shaking paw. He gripped it in his lap, but this bought appeared to only be a cough. 

When it finally began to slow, Owen took a deep, deliberate breath, and breathed out a “Hi.”

“You look worse than something one of the cats coughed up,” Bek said bluntly. El smacked her shoulder and Scott pinned back his ears, but Owen smiled at the jab, so the farm rat didn’t audibly gasp in horror like he wanted to.

“I’d rather take getting chewed out by the cats at this point,” Owen said, his voice all but shot. 

“No you wouldn’t,” Scott corrected. Owen didn’t argue. 

“Well,” El started, holding out the covered bowl of hot sauce for him to see. “I brought something with me, that might be able to help.” Again, she explained what was in the bowl. How it was spicy and full of flavor. How at her old home they would use it to help clear their stuffy noses and make it a little easier to breathe.

Then Scott showed him the bowl of broth he brought up. “I brought some soup we could mix it into if you think it’s worth a shot. It should tone down some of the flavor and make it easier to eat.”

Owen wrinkled his nose. “Not the biggest fan of spicy food, but if there’s a chance it’ll work then it’s worth a shot.”

“You sure,” Eloise and Scott asked at the same time.

He nodded and reached out towards the bowl in Scott’s paw. “Got a spoon?”

Of course Scott brought a spoon. 

Eloise popped the cover off her bowl and tilted it. Scott brought the broth underneath the rim to catch a few drops before swirling the angry orange sauce in. Since El was the one who knew about the home remedy, he let her judge how much to put in. She let a few more drops dribble into the broth before pulling back her bowl and covering it back up.

“That should probably be enough,” she said with a flick of her tail tip. “Don’t want to overdo it.”

“How spicy is it,” Owen asked nervously.

“It is hot sauce, so pretty spicy.”

Owen slunk a little deeper under the covers. “What if it’s too hot?”

“Well, you want it to be hot if it’s going to work.”

“Uh… Actually… I don’t know about this anymore, guys.”

Bek snorted. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“I am not! Fine.” In the blink of an eye, Owen snatched the soup bowl and spoon out from Scott’s paws. “This better work,” he grumbled, before ladling a spoonful of the liquid into his mouth.

Scott held his breath for a moment as he watched Owen swallow. His friend blinked rapidly at the taste, clearly uncomfortable. But he went for another spoonful and downed that as well. He handed it back to Scott with more than half the broth left. 

“Feeling any better?” Bek asked brightly.

He held up one claw as if asking her to wait. His face contorted against the heat. His breathing became heavy and drawn out, but that was good, wasn’t it? Those were the deepest breaths Scott had heard Owen manage in a while. 

“Did it help?” he pressed when Owen didn’t answer.

In less than a second, Owen’s demeanor changed. He went from tense patience, face screwed up with discomfort at the taste, to twitching and thrashing silently. So silently, in fact, that they even couldn’t hear him breathe. 

Scott’s blood ran cold.

Owen wasn’t coughing anymore. Wasn’t gagging. He was wheezing. Gasping. Ribcage rattling. Convulsing. his back arched. He writhed beneath the blanket so wildly that it knocked the covers from the bed entirely.  Both paws went to the base of his neck and gripped at the soft tissue there, claws raking along the exposed surface. Angry red marks flared up against his skin, visible beneath his fur. 

“Oh my god he’s choking,” Bek shrieked.

Her words hit Scott hard, knocking his brain back into action. “H-how?!?! It was just chicken broth!” He didn’t understand. There weren’t any noodles or chunks of chicken or vegetables to worry about swallowing. 

He dropped the bowl and spoon in his paws, not caring when they clattered to the floor and sent broth splattered everywhere. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting his best friend breathing again. Scott reached under Owen’s armpit and hauled the other rat closer to the side of the bed where the rest of them could reach him more easily. He bucked in Scott’s grip. He almost completely lost his hold on the other rat’s arm as Owen kept reaching for his neck. Not sure what else to do, Scott started pounding on Owen’s back with the base of his palm, praying it would knock his airwaves free. “What could he possibly be choking on?!”

“No no no! You’re doing it wrong.” Bek shoved him to the side and took over, wrapping her arms around Owen’s chest from behind. The back of his head nearly smashed into her forehead as he struggled to breathe, but she gripped tight. “You gotta do it like in the movies.” With that, she started pounding her fist up and in just below his sternum.

Scott was grasping at straws. Reacting instinctively without knowing what would help or why. Let alone how this could have gone so wrong. He rushed around the bed to the other side so he could face Owen. He passed El, who still stood shaking against the wall. He’d ask her to help, but what could she do, really? 

Scott crawled up onto the bed with Owen. He intended to hold Owen’s paws to keep them from knocking into Bek as she continued to attempt to force out whatever was caught in his throat. Before he reached out, though, Owen shifted his paws from scratching at his throat to clawing at the sides of his mouth. 

There, just visible past the foremost incisors, something was glowing at the back of Owen’s mouth.

Something teal. Something orange.

Thoughts of the fleshy thimblefuls Scott had been doing his best to throw away swam to the forefront of his mind.  The glow shook and strobed with every desperate attempt for air. The lumpy shapes the glow emanated from shook and wobbled as Owen opened his mouth wider and wider. Scott’s muscles locked up. He couldn’t have willed himself forward if he wanted to. Couldn’t think straight enough for it to occur to him to try. He watched as Owen tried reaching into his own mouth with desperate claws and scraped at what was inside. 

Bek gave another heave, knocking Owen’s paw away from his mouth with enough force for his flailing claws to rip a tear in his lip. Something hooked on his claw came loose, and with a wet plop, it fell onto the bedspread in front of Scott. 

It looked like part of a mushroom cap. 

A very familiar teal mushroom with glowing orange splotches. 

Something clicked in the back of Scott’s numb mind that this was probably what had been in those thimbles, although less smashed up and not swimming in bile. This cap was far more sturdy. He could still make out the delicate edges of gills lining the underside. The damaged end was blackened and wilted. The entire piece still glowed, despite being severed from the rest of the larger body. 

He had warned Owen about those awful mushrooms. 

Why couldn’t his friend have just trusted him and gone through with burning it?

“It’s not working,” Bek cried. She let go of Owen, cradling her wrists. Bruises were already becoming visible there beneath pale fur.

Scott blinked. 

Owen was reaching with one paw for his mouth again. The glowing shapes there were clearer than they were a second ago. More sharply defined. Larger. Scott could hardly believe what he was seeing as caps pressed against the backs of Owen’s teeth, threatened to grow out right past his lips. Owen was grabbing at them. Clawing at them. Pulling fistfuls of crushed mushroom stems and caps. Scott reached forward with a half-baked thought to help rip more away, but Owen smacked his paw away before he could get close. Owen’s other paw was reaching up towards some unseen point on the ceiling with eyes that were glassy and blank. Color flickered in the pupils. 

Orange, teal, orange, teal, orange, teal…

Scott whirled to look at Eloise. “GO GET HELP!!!”

She hadn’t so much as moved from her spot by the wall. At Scott’s words, her shocked face blanched. She was shaking in fear and reached for Bek like the smaller rat was a lifeline. “WHO DO I GET!?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

POP!

Owen fell limp.

Scott turned back to stare down at his best friend, too frozen in shock to move, dread pulsing through his veins where his heart stopped beating. “Owen…” he whimpered. The name sounded fuzzy to his ears through the radio static of his own thoughts. 

Owen’s chest was moving. Barely, but it was. Scott could see it rising and falling with short, shallow breaths. 

“Owen, please…” 

Please what? Answer? Survive? Be okay? 

The two girls gripped at each other. They stood in front of the entrance, their shadows falling over Owen in the bed. Through their quivering dark shapes, Owen’s eyes blazed.

Orange, teal, orange, teal, orange, teal…

“No more of that.”

Scott pealed his ears up away from where he had pinned them flat against the back of his head. “Owen?” His voice cracked. Owen’s voice sounded… hollow.

The fallen rat’s chest twitched. His arms drew in closer to his sides. His legs spread out over the sheets. Scott scrambled away to make room for his friend as a foot passed by where he had been kneeling on the bed. Every movement was agonizingly slow. Pained. 

“W-what d-do you mean?” El stuttered. “Y-you gave us a r-real fright, there.”

“I mean no more of that.” Owen’s voice sounded empty. Distant. Scott couldn’t make out his friend’s mouth moving in the dim lighting. Not at this angle. Considering what he had just seen, it was shockingly clear considering all the mushrooms he had to be talking around. “Whatever that was, it burned. No more burning us.”

One of Bek’s ears swiveled. “Uh… ‘us’? What do you mean ‘us’?”

With a long, labored heave that looked unnaturally limp, Owen’s head lolled back as he pushed himself up shoulders first. He sat up. 

Orange, teal, orange, teal, orange, teal… 

“Us.”

It wasn’t just Owen’s eyes that glowed anymore. They were vacant. Glassy, empty eyes with irises that flashed back and forth. But below his eyes, crawling out from the cracks in his mouth, flowing down with the line of blood escaping the cut on his lip, curling around his front teeth, were mushrooms. Many, many, many mushrooms. 

“We won’t let you burn us again,” came Owen’s voice, but it wasn’t Owen. It couldn’t be. His mouth didn’t move. His shallow breathing, now growing even shallower, hadn’t hitched or changed. Rather, with each rise and fall of the syllables, the glowing orange splotches strobed brighter. 

“No more heat. No more burning.” 

Orange, teal, orange, teal, orange, teal. Bright, dim, bright, dim, bright, dim. 

“Just the damp. Just the dark. Like me. Like you…”

He turned to Scott, but he didn’t actually look at Scott. Those eyes stared straight ahead. The pupils were so dilated, he couldn’t be focusing on anything in front of him. His head tilted, ears falling limply with the motion. 

“Hey Scott.” The mushrooms blinked with the hollow words. “You were helping me. Now I think you should help us…”

Owen lurched forward, reaching out for the nearest one of them. His claws brushed Scott’s arms and Scott leaped back. 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

He shrieked. Behind him, Bek and Eloise screamed as well. They scrambled back as Owen pushed forward out of the bed. Every movement was sluggish and stilted. His muscles quivered with distress and his legs shook as he stood up, but he WAS up. And he was coming right for them. 

They bolted. All three dropped onto all fours and scrabbled through Owen’s house as fast as their paws could carry them. 

This was a nightmare. It had to be. Scott knew the mushrooms were dangerous, but whatever this was had to be something else. However, when Scott slipped on the carpet in the hall and slammed shoulder-first into the wall, the pain sent dark spots dancing across his eyes.

Dreams weren’t supposed to be this painful.

The three of them were halfway down the gears when Owen’s distant voice met their ears. It still had that hollow ring to it. “Come on Scott. Come on guys. You wanted to help me, right? Then come back. The dark is better.”

Scott clenched his claws and dared to look up. He couldn’t see Owen past the ledge. 

“Scott… Eloise… Bek… I thought you wanted to help?”

A shiver passed down Scott’s spine. Owen didn’t sound any closer. He wasn’t chasing them. He let go of the gears, allowing himself to drop the rest of the way to land heavily alongside the girls. The three of them looked up 

“Are you still there, guys?”

El placed a finger over her lips and glared at Scott and Bek. She flicked her eyes off to the side and waved in the direction of Owen’s mudroom. It didn’t take much to figure out what she meant. Scott and Bek shared a glance, then nodded and followed her around the corner. 

As soon as they were all packed into the cramped room like sardines in a can, Scott pulled the door closed behind him. She dropped the finger from in front of her mouth. 

“What do we do!? What do WE DO!?!?” she whispered frantically.

“I DON’T KNOW!”

They all scrambled, moving back and forth as much as they could in the small space as they talked over each other in a panic.

“Is he coming!?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It didn’t sound like it.”

“I don’t think we can be sure.”

“The door’s closed even if he was.”

“That just means we’d be trapped.”

“I don’t think he’s coming, though.”

“What even happened?”

“It’s those mushrooms,” Scott babbled, words flowing out of his mouth as quickly as they passed through his head. “Those were the mushrooms from the garden that we burned. I’d recognize them anywhere. They were in him! My god, his mouth was full of them. He was coughing them up all this time and I didn’t even realize-”

Eloise cut through his panicked rambling to grab him by the shoulders and give him a shake. “You’re the expert here on those things. Did you know they could do that?”

“Of course not!”

“Okay,” Bek started. “So a bunch of angry mushrooms were making Owen sick and now he’s…” She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but could not find the words. She helplessly gestured to the mudroom’s ceiling, approximately in the same direction as Owen’s room. “That. Now he’s like that. Didn’t the mushrooms from the garden get burned?”

“Yeah,” El hissed. “That took care of them last time. Should we try that again?”

“And do what?” Scott wanted to shout, but he strained to keep his volume down low. “Set Owen on fire?!?”

El blinked, her face going blank. “Right. Might need to think of something better.”

“What about what he said,” Bek said, her whisper now bordering on becoming a shout. “He said that something burned.”

“Yeah, the hot sauce,” El said dismissively. “I’m sure it was spicy and hot and everything I said it would be but that doesn’t actually help us now because it doesn’t actually burn things like a fire, now does it?!” 

“But he- it- they- whatever that was- I don’t know?! It didn’t seem to like it.”

“So you’re saying it caused this?”

“Those mushrooms were already in his system,” Scott admitted. “He was throwing them up for a while now. Whatever this is was already in him.”

“So the hot sauce made it worse? It pissed some bloody mushrooms off and made Owen…” Eloise didn’t even know how to finish her sentence. She threw her paw up in the air and turned. She pressed one of her knuckles against her forehead. 

Scott ran through everything he knew about the fungus in his head. From his early days on the farm, where he had seen the brightly colored caps from afar, to the blight they caused, and the wildlife that choked on their spores until they couldn’t breathe. The awful way it spread in the dark, closed-off spaces. Places like the basement.  

Places like Owen’s lungs. 

He shook his head. Now was not the time to dwell on that. 

At the farm, the only thing the farmers could do was burn it. Gather it up in a neat pile and set the whole thing ablaze. Even if there were a few mycelium roots below the surface, if they set the fire close enough to the patch, the heat still managed to leach through the topsoil and kill it off. 

Hot sauce didn’t put off real heat. Not like that. But the mushrooms reacted to it. He didn’t know if his parents had ever tried any irritants against something like that. Acid wasn’t necessarily available to a family of rodents working the field. 

He thought of the partially blackened piece of mushroom Owen had clawed out of his mouth. 

“Okay… I think… I think your hot sauce might have helped, actually.”

El pulled her knuckle from her forehead and looked at him from the corner of her eye. “You’re joking.”

“That’s what I was saying,” Bek exclaimed. All pretenses of keeping her voice down were tossed out the window. “It was mad about how hot it was. What if hot flavors work just like hot fires.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Probably. But I saw a piece break off that looked burned, and I know for a fact Owen hasn’t been around a fire for some time. I don’t know if it works like some sort of acid, but it did something.”

“Yeah,” El huffed. “It made him like THAT . Worse!”

Bek rolled her eyes. “That just means we didn’t use enough.”

Scott pointed to the smaller rat. “What she said.”

Bek didn’t seem to be prepared for him to agree with her so easily. Her eyes flew wide and her tail went ramrod straight. “What?!”

“I think you’re, right, Bek. I think we need to try using more.”

“But you- I thought- I can’t believe-” Eloise sputtered. Her paws waved uselessly in the air, grasping at straws. Finally, she gave up on trying to find an argument and slumped forward. “Fine.” She pulled the small covered bowl out. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to try.”

“Great! Now we just need to figure out how to do that,” Scott said as he leaned his back against the door.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

“Is it nice and dark in there?”

All three rats stiffened at the sound of Owen’s voice filtering through the cracks in the door. Scott’s heart outright skipped a beat as he pushed off the door, trying to put as much distance between him and the door as he could. Considering the small mudroom, it wasn’t much. He hurtled into Bek and Eloise, who were pressing themselves through the hanging coats and boots against the furthest corner of the room. Something fell at his side. He tore his eyes away from the door long enough to see Eloise’s covered bowl of hot sauce bounce once off the floor and go rolling.

Squeak… click!

The doorknob turned and swung open. Blinking orange lights strobed across the room as Owen stepped inside. 

“Well, would you look at that?”

Orange, teal, orange, teal, orange, teal. Bright, dim, bright, dim, bright, dim. 

“It is dark in here. I knew you guys wanted to help.”

“O-Owen…” Scott said shakily. He pressed himself further into Bek and Eloise’s sides. “I-I thought you were upstairs in y-your room?”

“But you guys came down here,” he said through a mouth that did not form the words. His blank eyes passed over the room. “You can’t help when you’re down here and I’m up there.”

“Help with what,” El demanded.

“Us. And you.”

He took a stilted step forward, and every fiber of Scott’s being screamed at him to run.

“Go! Go! Go!” He squeaked, shoving Bek and El aside. Owen stood between them and the door, but he couldn’t stop all of them if they tried to go around them. 

Of course, that didn’t mean they would all be able to get out scot-free. 

Because Owen’s claws wrapped around the strap of Scott’s dungarees before he could make it past. 

His best friend’s paw gripped like a vice. His grip was so white-knuckled tight that it shook as he yanked. Scott was too busy trying to run forward to get a good grip on the floor with the soles of his feet. They slipped out from under him and the farm rat found himself suspended for a moment, staring at the retreating backs of the girls before his back hit the ground. 

Owen’s flashing eyes appeared over him. 

Orange, teal, orange, teal, orange.

“Hey, Scott,” the mushrooms glowed down at him. 

Scott tried to pull away, but Owen still had a grip on the strap. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the bowl Eloise had dropped. It was still covered and clean on the wooden floor, right there next to a set of boots. Scott reached for it. His claws brushed the rim, only for the strap of his dungarees yanked back once more. He couldn’t budge an inch as Owen forced the strap down against the wood planks, pinning him to the floor. The bowl rolled uselessly out of his line of sight.

“What are you doing,” Scott squeaked, voice small. His ears tried to swivel back to lay against his head, but they could only press uselessly against the floor. 

“Helping us,” the mushrooms in Owen’s mouth blinked. “Don’t worry, Scott. It’s not so bad. A little time, a bit of coughing… you’ll barely notice.”

Dread clawed at the pit of Scott’s stomach. Owen was still looking at him blankly, but the mushroom caps in his mouth flared. The gills widened, revealing dotted dark pores between their inner layers. Scott could make out the dark spore particles between them. The dread dug those claws in and yanked.

“Owen! Owen please- I don’t- I- I- Please don’t-”

“Take this!”

Owen tore his glowing eyes off Scott. The moment his head tilted back, the open end of a bowl hit him square in the center of his face. Rivulets of red-orange liquid sprayed out along the side of his head. It caught in his hair and dripped down his jaw, and when the bowl fell away, his entire face was covered in Eloise’s hot sauce. 

Bek stood in the door frame, wide-eyed, arm outstretched in front of her, utterly shocked that she had hit her mark.

The squeak of pain Owen let out made Scott flinch. He wanted to curl into a ball and cover his ears against the sheer agony that would have shredded Owen’s voice box if he was actually using it. Scott instead dug his heels into the floor and slid back as far as he could. Claws wrapped around his shoulders. To his relief, Bek had rushed to his side. She and El each took an arm and helped him up while Owen backed away. The slow, pained movements were now even shakier as he reached to wipe at the sauce covering his face.

Wherever the sauce touched the mushrooms, the stems and caps twitched and shriveled.  Steam hissed, bubbles popping along their wet surface as the lukewarm liquid wreaked havoc on them. Burnt, dried-out stems fell from between his lips and crumbled against the floor. 

A rather large mushroom broke free, falling to the floor. Owen let out a gasp. The sudden breath was heavier than what he had managed since the mushrooms appeared, and it triggered a cough. The same kind of heavy, burdened, full-body cough Owen had been struggling with for so long now. Scott could see flecks of hot sauce get sucked in from the edges of Owen’s lips, and full splatters of reddish-orange peppered the walls as the air was forced back out. He was gripping his throat again, but it wasn’t the desperate, clawing grasp from before. 

With each cough, more and more blackened bits came tumbling from his mouth. With each cough, his chest expanded more and more. He managed to pull in more air. Let out more ragged breaths. 

Bek and El’s grips on Scott’s shoulders tightened when Owen collapsed down onto his knees, shoulders stooped, and his stomach heaved. Scott didn’t react. Only watch. He had been around Owen’s vomiting spells longer than the two girls. He watched the puddle of bile and fleshy lumps that spread across the floor with cold recognition. 

The chunks of what he now recognized to be mushroom pieces bubbled and boiled in the puddle, withering away amidst the swirls of undigested orange hot sauce. 

Owen heaved again. And heaved. He kept going until there was nothing left, and even then he dry-heaved once or twice before he fell back into a weak cough. It was an exhausted cough. One that barely even managed to shake the rat’s shoulders. One that made his elbows waver as he tried to hold himself up off the messy floor. A few more flecks of orange and teal fell from his lips. 

The coughing stopped. 

It felt like an eternity passed in the time Scott, El, and Bek sat there, watching Owen pant. They were holding their breath. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t react in any way, as if the moment was so jagged and sharp that any change might cause it to break. Or to break one of them. 

But if nobody broke the moment, than there was no way to know if it could be fixed.

“O-Owen?” Scott flinched as the sound of his own voice startled him. It cut through the quiet like a knife. He would have reached out to his friend. Risked that bit of movement, but Bek caught his wrist before he could go far.

Both she and El held him back. Their eyes were brimming with fear and concern, both emotions warring over what was best. Should they help Owen? Stay away from him? 

“Are you back to feeling like yourself?” Bek asked carefully.

Owen looked up. 

Orange, teal, orange, teal, orange, teal…

“I…” He took a deep breath. A small, tired smile pulled on the corners of his mouth as the flicker in his eyes finally guttered out. “I feel better…”

Thump!

Owen’s shaking arms finally gave out. He slumped down to the floor. Eyes fell closed. His body went still outside of the rise and fall of his chest.

And for the first time in a long time, Owen’s breathing sounded normal to Scott’s ears.

[justthelark]

OPENING A REQUEST BOOK!!!

rules n such effectively the same but do read em!

[hey-its-me3]

HELLO

I released the fic,

...I think this is the happiest I have ever been.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45699523

In my very biased opinion, its very good!

[outsiderquill]

hello tumblr I have gift…. r!Bek and r!eloise from my fic “what’s a mistletoe?” :]

enjoy the silly rats heehoo

[goldenwitherphoenix13]

First fanfic I've posted since joining AO3.

Hope its not cringe.

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

Masterpost: Tell Me, Did I Do Wrong?

AKA the cubito AITA collection

[main Tumblr tag] [AO3 series]

Main fic [AO3]

u/PurpleCastleLover: AITA for accidentally killing a guy who was extorting me for money with a bounty? [Tumblr] [AO3] [Poll]

u/nightingale_throwaway_0227: AITA for being born? [Tumblr] [AO3] [Poll]

u/patriot_turned_pirate: AITA for murdering eight people over a side comment? [Tumblr] [AO3] [Poll]

u/RecordKeepingChaosPotato: AITA for eating someone's ship? [Tumblr] [AO3]

u/SociallyJetLaggedArchivist: AITA for accidentally starting a fight over a gun? [Tumblr] [AO3]

Spin-offs

The Mushroom Incident (Rats)

u/JustALittleButtonHatRat: AITA for not wanting to burn a dried mushroom? [Tumblr] [AO3] [Poll]

Chronica Siderum [AO3]

u/throwaway_astrorum: AITA for leaving my closest friend to die after an argument? [Tumblr] [AO3] [Poll]

u/SADZookeeper: AITA for failing to protect my brother? [Tumblr] [AO3] [Poll]

u/SADZookeeper: Update [Tumblr] [AO3]

[solsearchingnights]

For the beloved @bookishspirit for mcytblr sexyman poll bribes!!

2.4k words

RatsSMP and just a lil smidge of farmer rat angst with some implied flower husbands for flavor <3

[yacinthemorning]

Mother Hen

Chapter 4 of 6

[First] [Prev] [Next] [Last]

Summary: 5 times Jimmy was almost the mom friend, if not for his other quirks.

Ships: Jimmy & Lizzie (Siblings)

Warnings: Temporary Death

The cage door swung open just as a human walked into the room, and everyone scattered.

Lizzie scrambled under the table as fast as her little claws could carry her. Other rats joined, clustering far from the human woman trudging by the cabinet. When a giant foot stomped down nearly right on Lizzie’s whiskers she jumped, stumbling back right into another fellow rat.

“Are you okay?” A familiar voice whispered, two little paws resting on her shoulders. “Gosh, those humans are faster than they look.”

She leaned back, meeting an agouti rat with blond tufts and a neon green vest. Two brown eyes blinked back, mostly filled with fear but tinged with concern and guilt. “Jimmy!” Oh, of course she would find her once-and-forever brother here as well.

His nose twitched happily, helping her back up onto her feet. “Hello, Lizzie!” Jimmy said, then flinched as someone else nearby shushed him. Humans again. The two huddled close together, holding each other’s arms as they watched the enormous feet warily. When the human moved to the other end of the cabinet Jimmy took a hesitant chance to speak again. “Lovely hat you’ve got there.”

“Thank you very much!” She puffed up her chest. “Lovely vest.”

Jimmy patted his vest. “Well, I’m the safety rat! Stick with me and I’ll keep you safe.”

“Oh, Jimmy.” Lizzie giggled. Of course. A new world, a new attempt to assert his authority. This would go about as well as the rest, she reckoned. Evidently Jimmy took the reaction as a compliment, standing a bit taller with a wiggle in his ears and a pep in his step as he walked to the edge of the cabinet and – super safely – stuck his head out to see where the human had gone.

“Coast is clear.” He whispered back to the group. The rest of the rats hesitated, but soon scattered. His smile beamed, pleased with seemingly fulfilling his first task as Safety Rat. “Oh, what is it you do?” He finally asked.

Lizzie shrugged in a definitely very cool fashion, brushing at the edge of her skirt before examining her nails. “Well, if you must know, I’m a very clever rat. I’ve baked a cake!”

A silence fell over the pair, broken by the creak of a distant door. Safety Rat pulled his ears over his face. “Right, well. Don’t you worry, I’ll get us out of here.”

But while Jimmy looked both ways over and over again, rambling about procedures and rules, Lizzie thought she caught sight of a teal flash in the distance. Her nose twitched curiously, and she shifted to try and get a better view when-

“… One, two… Lizzie? Lizzie!” Jimmy squeaked in fear. She looked back, only now realizing she had stumbled far out from the safety of the table. With another little whimper he bolted up to her side “You’re meant to wait until the count of three! Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Over here!” Another voice called. A little cream mouse with blue overalls waved them over to his hiding spot, voice just as pitched and terrified as Jimmy’s. “Come on, don’t just stand there! Are you trying to get caught?” Scott shrieked the entire time they ran, until they nearly tumbled right into him.

“We’re right here.” Safety Rat said. 

Scott seemed to barely hear, pulling at the straw of his hat. “Jesus, Jimmy, you two are going to get killed! Oh my…”

“Are you okay, Scott?” Jimmy asked.

“You’re quite loud today, you seem a bit stressed.” Lizzie tried not to giggle.

“Of course I’m stressed! I’m inside and there’s humans!” He cried, scurrying to check around a corner. “I’m a farmer rat, I’m meant to be outdoors in the fresh air. Come on, everyone went this way.”

“Well don’t you worry. I’ll keep us safe!” Jimmy tried to assure. Understandably, it did quite the opposite. A look passed between Lizzie and Scott, but she just shook her head. It was best to just let him get it out of his system. Instead, she suggested they sit down and share a bite to eat. Hopefully that would calm him a bit.

At some point they got split up. Lizzie wasn’t quite sure how, probably one or both getting distracted, but the next time she saw her silly little former-seabling was when Scott and Oli were hauling him up into the attic with some of the rats she had yet to meet. All of them looked frazzled, but Jimmy looked ready to pass out.

“They followed him into the bathroom and got locked in.” A strange little black and red rat – Krow? -  explained.

The tallest of the rats huffed. “We nearly starved to death in there!” She cried.

“Not me.” Oli snickered. Indeed, his face was covered in the crumbs of a rye loaf Lizzie was quite familiar with from earlier. Had Jimmy given up his bread without even paying attention to his own hunger and supplies? She sighed.

Scott was coaxing Safety Rat into a few crumbs he had to spare. There was an embarrassed reluctance to his nibbling. She sat down beside him to pat his head. “Don’t you worry, Jim. When I get the means, I’ll bake you all sorts of cakes.”

His whiskers twitched. “Oh! That reminds me, I did make this.” He said as he pulled out a flat sharpened piece of iron.

“Is that a knife!” Scott squeaked. “How do you have a knife? Why do you have a knife?”

Jimmy’s cheeks lit up, holding his prized possession close. “It’s for… It’s for safety, of course!”

“Oh my! What a coincidence.” Lizzie said, giddily reaching into her own inventory. “I made mine for cutting cake.”

Scott’s distress increased. “You too! Who gave you guys knives?”

The two knife-owning rats ignored him, though, excitedly chattering on how they would use their knives for their goals. At some point Scott simply gave up and wandered off, not wanting to be a witness to whatever crime he thought they might commit. That was, of course, silly. After all, she was a baker rat. All she intended to use her knife for was to collect resources for her cat cake. Jimmy wielding a knife, on the other hand, she understood the concern perfectly. She would just have to accompany him.

-

“Lizzie!” Jimmy called, beckoning her back over to the shelter of the shelf he hid in. She scurried over, just barely dodging a human who was turned away. “Lizzie, that wasn’t very safe!”

“I know…” She whined, then huddled up against him at the sounds of a distant mewl. 

Jimmy’s ears swivelled while the two rats clutched tightly to one another in terror. This entire house wasn’t very safe, really. The attic was at least nice and warm, and if the humans ever went there it was rare, but they all risked their little lives every time they went downstairs. How was he going to keep them safe then?

“Jimmy!” Lizzie squeaked. 

Both jumped back as a human face suddenly stared right at them. No, not right at them, but at the cans they hid behind. The human lifted one effortlessly and then backed away.

“This place is too dangerous…” He murmured.

Lizzie shook free of his hold, which had unintentionally tightened on her poor shawl. “But it’s the only place with the ingredients to bake a cake.” She insisted.

“I know, I know. But we don’t even have a way to get to the food.”

“We should make one of those chisel things then. We could make a tunnel to where you need to go from the wall.”

“Oh, brilliant! One question, how do we make those?” Jimmy scratched his head, thinking back to the one Eloise had as she showed him her house. “I think we need some type of stone.” He jumped down, tiny feet thumping against the granite floor. Testing claws scratched against it. Granite? “What about a bit of this? I have a pickaxe.”

“Oh, maybe!” Lizzie leapt after him, giving the reddish stone a sniff.

Well, no time like the present- the present where there were no humans in the kitchen, at least. He whipped out the pickaxe and slammed it into the granite. The entire tile shattered, and he squeaked with happiness as he lifted up a shard. Now Lizzie could make her cake in safety! “There we go! One piece of granite at yourrr… Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Jimmy!” Lizzie raged, shoving a finger towards- oh. Towards the newly made massive hole in the floor. “The humans are going to notice! Then what?”

His fur went on end. “Uh, um. Don’t- don’t panic. I, uh…” Jimmy rummaged through his inventory. Something woolly caught his eye. He quickly yanked it out and placed it over the hole. “There!”

Lizzie glared at him, before kicking her little foot out at the edge of the carpet. It flew back, once again revealing the hole. She crossed her arms. “Jimmy.”

“Hey! Leave it alone, nobody but us has to know.”

“Safety Rat, a giant hole isn’t very safe.”

“Be quiet!”

“I will not! This is your fault. I’m telling the others.”

He let out a frustrated whine. Why was Lizzie such a tattle tale? He was only trying to help her to begin with.

Before either could continue the argument there was a rumbling roar from above. Both looked up in time to see the human, but as Jimmy leapt back towards a crevice, he felt no presence beside him. Under the safety of a counter he chanced a glance back. Lizzie had run in the opposite direction up onto a shelf. The human had not noticed her, focusing on where she had seen Jimmy disappear instead, but stood dangerously close to the little baker rat.

If he couldn’t save her, he would have to help her save herself. Rolling up his sleeves, Safety Rat hid from the peaking human, waiting for her to lose interest. When a grumbling came from her he poked his head back out. “Lizzie!”

“Oh, Jimmy…” She wailed, shaking in fear, scurrying between the jars of spices.

“Lizzie, you need to get over here. It’s not safe!”

She shook her head violently. “I can’t! She’ll see me!”

“Just run as fast as you can, I’ll distract her.” He assured her, then popped out hoping to catch the human’s attention. It seemed to work, making her crouch down near him. “Go, go! Be brave!” He called to Lizzie as he dodged the human’s hand.

Lizzie hesitated, but backed up. “Alright! Alright!” With all her might she launched off the cupboard. 

Jimmy let out a cheer, but it died in his throat. Before Lizzie even hit the ground two grubby hands reached out. They slammed around the little rat, giving her no chance to escape. Terrified squeaks echoed from within the palms.

“No!” Jimmy cried, chasing after the human as she bolted off. It was no use, though. His stomach and heart both sank. What had he done?

-

“Lizzie?” The baker rat perked up at the familiar voice. Scott was behind her, poking his nose through the cage bars. “There you are.” He muttered and quickly flipped open the door. “Jimmy was running around the whole house screaming for you.”

“Well he should know exactly where I am, considering it’s his fault!” She huffed. The two rats cautiously went for the hall.

“That does sound like him.” Scott mused affectionately. He seemed calmer now, fiddling with a flower from some unknown place. Had he gotten outside or stolen it from the humans? Oh, that wasn’t important right now. What was important was finding Jimmy and giving him a piece of her mind!

Well, what was actually important was finding their way back to the attic and getting some food. But whatever! Her stomach could wait for revenge. Maybe.

She spotted Jimmy first, mixed in a crowd of rats whom he was speaking to in a hurried fashion. Lizzie didn’t wait for Scott, marching up to their so-called-friend. Jimmy at first beamed that silly little sunshine smile of his, but it quickly gave way to nerves.

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” She sniffed.

He shrunk away. “Lizzie, I’m so sorry…”

“What’s going on?” A chorus of voices asked in some manner.

“Would you like to tell them, Jimmy?”

“I, uh…” Jimmy grabbed his tail, fiddling with it nervously as he would his feathers in another world. “We got cornered by a human. I told Lizzie to be brave and leap, and, um, evidently she was too brave.”

Lizzie scoffed at his explanation. “Is that all? You want to tell them what else you did or should I?” She felt only a little guilty at his sad betrayed expression. He nearly got her killed! The crowd began to ask questions, pushing and muttering, but slowly someone started to lead them towards the attic where they could discuss in peace. 

By the time she had calmed her rage and guilt began to take over the crowd had lost interest in the bit of drama. They dispersed to work on their own projects. Lizzie found Jimmy alone, sat atop a chest, fiddling with a little blue flower, tail and ears limp.

Quietly she crawled up beside him. “Jimmy?”

“Am I the bad guy?” Jimmy whimpered.

“Oh Jim.” She sighed, placing a paw on his shoulder.

“I just want to keep people safe. I’m not very good at that, though. I’m so sorry, Lizzie.”

“I know you are, Jim.” Lizzie assured him, pulling him into a hug. It was eagerly returned, the taller rat nuzzling into her shawl. “You silly little worry wart.” A giggle escaped her, getting a confused look. “Whether it’s a super suit, or a big crown, or a sheriff star, or a safety vest. Every time, I swear, you always find some adorable little authority role. It doesn’t really suit a baby brother, does it?”

At that his cheeks darkened, “Hey!”

But she ignored his outburst, instead holding his face in her paws and giving him a soft smile. “You just keep being you, Jimmy. It’s never a bad thing to want to keep your friends safe. No matter the teasing and the silly roleplay, we see it and appreciate it.”

Jimmy had gone silent, leaning into the touch with reddened eyes. She let out an airy laugh and pulled him into another hug. “Now, why don’t we go find something to eat?”

“… I have more bread.” Came a muffled reply. Jimmy pulled away to search his inventory. A lump of beer bread was passed to her, which she happily took. The two ate in comfortable silence broken only by a few silly whispers.

[flebdoodle]

You want specific?

a little confession: i got into Hermitcraft through Life SMP (and even that one i discovered mere months ago), so i wanted to know which came first for the lot of you

[mistymountainsmc]

Ratman… or the Phantom?

Alright, Rats SMP 2 is in Paris, Phantom of the Opera is also set in Paris. Sausage, or Ratman is hooded and wears a mask, the Phantom is also hooded and wears a mask. Ratman has a scar on the right side of his face, the Phantom also has a scar on the right side of his face…

Mythical J Sausage the J is silent, if you so happen to see this you are now obligated to make at least one (1) Phantom of the Opera reference throughout the duration of Rats SMP 2 or SO HELP ME I WILL WRITE A FANFICTION AND I DO NOT HAVE THE BRAIN CAPACITY TO DO SO!!!

Or I’ll just draw a picture, idk

God bless!