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tiny-minecraft-rabbit · 4 months

Text

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.

#martyn inthelittlewood #mumbo jumbo #rats smp #rat martyn #bat mumbo jumbo #rats smp fanfiction #ahasbands #redwood #trafficshipping #mcytblr holiday exchange #mcyt fanfiction #jimmy solidarity #oli orionsound #tubbo #rabbit writes #cw alcohol

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nonstandardgalactictext · 14 days

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"Hello, Riff! Say, you wouldn't happen to be busy with anything, would you?" Cygnet drawls, his breath curling soft and delicate and far too cold for anything human against the skin of Riff's neck, raising goosebumps.

"N- no, I'm.. I'm not busy. Just tinkering," He responds, failing to keep the tremble out of his voice, and Cygnet's giggle manages to both soothe and petrify him, with the knowledge of what comes next.

"Oh, good. I'm hungry, Riff," Cygnet drawls, as Riff manages to shrug off the straps of the harness that keeps his left arm in place. He pulls himself from Cygnet's grasp, turning around and setting the prosthetic limb on the workbench behind him.

"Can you help me with the right one?" He asks, and Cygnet smiles cordially, reaching up to slowly, delicately, tauntingly undo the right arm's harness, sliding it from Riff's shoulder and pressing his mouth softly against the light pink scars decorating the residual limb.

The contact makes Riff lock up, and Cygnet rolls his eyes, chin coming up to rest on his pale shoulder as he sets the arm beside it's twin.

"I'm just kissing, Riff, relax. You know I wouldn't go there." Riff can only nod, voice lost to deep, shaking breaths as he tries to settle himself. He always gets tense when someone touches the place where his arms used to be. It's been so many years, and he still feels the loss of his upper limbs like a shadow, following him incessantly. Sometimes he'll awaken in a half conscious frenzy, desperately trying to find his comm before realizing that it's entirely normal not to feel your arms when you don't have them.

It haunts him, some days, the days his shoulders and residual limbs ache, and he can do little more stare at his prosthetics, some odd grief tearing into him like a wound.

On the matter of wounds, Cygnet has clearly gotten impatient while Riff was lost in thought, because there's a hand on the back of his neck and an uncorked potion bottle being shoved against his lips.

He opens his mouth, an easy, routine motion, and lets Cygnet pour the acrid concoction down his throat, a hiss of radiation and magic searing his flesh as it goes. He tries not to taste much of it, instead basking in the way Cygnet smiles at him, warm and cheery and downright carnivorous.

"Good boy, Riff. You're so sweet to me," He croons, and something inside Riff caramelizes, his heart jelly-soft and his legs trembling to match. With his prosthetics off he can't very well balance himself, not with the drugs already sinking their claws into his senses, so he's grateful for the hand on his back, leading him to the center of the room.

Carefully, Riff levers himself to the floor, sitting with his legs crossed. It's always a little odd to try and balance without his arms, but he manages.

"Well. How do you want me, then?" He asks, a half-innuendo that makes Cygnet laugh, an odd, creaky noise like the last wails of a dying tree. It's a familiar noise, and little icicles of terror find themself at war with sweet warmth like burning honey in the space between Riff's throat and lungs.

It's nearly rabid the way Cygnet looks at him, one taloned finger tugging at the neck of his black tanktop, the other hand coming to rest on the fabric hiding the soft, lightly-toned meat of Riff's abdomen.

"I want your guts, pet," Cygnet purrs, and Riff shudders. He honestly can't tell what he's feeling now, past the buzzing of his head, the soft too-fast-too-slow thrum of his pulse in his ears blurring everything else together as the drugs turn his thoughts inside out before he has the chance to think them coherently. All Riff knows is that Cygnet is staring at him like he wants him, desires him, craves him, and he'd send the world to spores a thousand times over just for the way it makes warmth curl in his chest.

"O-okay. You can.. you can have me, anything- anything you want, Cygnet," he murmurs, nodding, and despite being so much smaller, the avian is able to quickly push Riff over to lie on his back. He goes easily- there's not much reason not to. Sharp talons rip through his black A-frame, nicking his skin on the way; Riff can feel himself pouting, just a bit.

"I liked that one," He grumbles, and Cygnet giggles airily at him, leaning down to press a kiss where his mustache meets his cheek.

"It's just the same as all your other ones, Riff."

"Yeah, I like those ones too."

#iggy's writing tag #iggy's bat tag #iggy's macaw tag #iggy's intox tag #iggy's cannibalism tag #iggy's helsmit tag #this is an excerpt of a wip of a fic #riff is hels!mumbo #cygnet is hels!grian #theyre soooo toxic #please ask me about them...

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