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linghxr · 10 months ago

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Exploring Chinese names of Taiwan

A while ago, I stumbled across this press release for Taiwan's National Names Statistical Analysis report. Then I clicked on the full report and spent days glued to my screen reading it!

So, courtesy of Taiwan's Ministry of the Interior, let's look at some of the data. We will look at: top given names, top full names, and top unisex names.

Top 10 given names (by decade)

The report shows the top names by decade, which is really fascinating because you can see how tastes and trends changed over time. I'm just going to show the overall top 10 and last three full decades (1990s, 2000s, and 2010s) but you can see the rest on pg. 280 of the report (pg. 281 of the PDF).

Male

Overall

家豪 Jiāháo / 14,038人

志明 Zhìmíng / 12,719人

建宏 Jiànhóng / 12,196人

俊杰 | 俊傑 Jùnji�� / 12,187人

俊宏 Jùnhóng / 11,189人

志豪 Zhìháo / 10,676人

志伟 | 志偉 Zhìwěi / 10,563人

承翰 Chénghàn / 9726人

冠宇 Guànyǔ / 9655人

志强 | 志強 Zhìqiáng / 9101人

1991-2000

家豪 Jiāháo / 4039人

冠宇 Guànyǔ / 3603人

冠廷 Guàntíng / 3399人

承翰 Chénghàn / 3008人

宗翰 Zōnghàn / 2831人

柏翰 Bóhàn / 2594人

彦廷 | 彥廷 Yàntíng / 2502人

冠霖 Guànlín / 2114人

俊杰 | 俊傑 Jùnjié / 2084人

承恩 Chéng’ēn / 1918人

2001-2010

承恩 Chéng’ēn / 2997人

承翰 Chénghàn / 2636人

冠廷 Guàntíng / 2452人

冠宇 Guànyǔ / 2206人

宇翔 Yǔxiáng / 1938人

柏翰 Bóhàn / 1885人

彦廷 | 彥廷 Yàntíng / 1610人

冠霖 Guànlín / 1509人

柏宇 Bóyǔ / 1471人

柏谚 | 柏諺 Bóyàn / 1409人

2011-2020

承恩 Chéng’ēn / 2215人

宥廷 Yòutíng / 2036人

品睿 Pǐnruì / 2021人

宸睿 Chénruì / 1904人

宇恩 Yǔ’ēn / 1860人

宇翔 Yǔxiáng / 1713人

承翰 Chénghàn / 1556人

宥辰 Yòuchén / 1532人

柏睿 Bóruì / 1511人

睿恩 Ruì’ēn / 1503人

Female

Overall

淑芬 Shūfēn | Shúfēn / 31,879人

淑惠 Shūhuì | Shúhuì / 30,420人

美玲 Měilíng / 27,487人

丽华 | 麗華 Lìhuá / 25,624人

美惠 Měihuì / 25,015人

淑贞 | 淑貞 Shūzhēn | Shúzhēn / 23,904人

雅婷 Yǎtíng / 23,407人

秀英 Xiùyīng / 23,020人

淑娟 Shūjuān | Shújuān / 22,828人

秀琴 Xiùqín / 22,266人

1991-2000

雅婷 Yǎtíng / 5797人

怡君 Yíjūn / 3575人

怡婷 Yítíng / 3183人

雅雯 Yǎwén / 3084人

诗涵 | 詩涵 Shīhán / 3006人

钰婷 | 鈺婷 Yùtíng / 2775人

怡萱 Yíxuān / 2729人

雅筑 Yǎzhù | Yǎzhú / 2700人

郁婷 Yùtíng / 2600人

宜庭 Yítíng / 2555人

2001-2010

宜蓁 Yízhēn / 2629人

欣妤 Xīnyú / 1643人

诗涵 | 詩涵 Shīhán / 1610人

思妤 Sīyú / 1561人

雅婷 Yǎtíng / 1439人

宜庭 Yítíng / 1394人

佳颖 | 佳穎 Jiāyǐng / 1375人

品妤 Pǐnyú / 1336人

子涵 Zǐhán / 1271人

怡萱 Yíxuān / 1258人

2011-2020

品妍 Pǐnyán/ 2421人

子晴 Zǐqíng / 2087人

咏晴 | 詠晴 Yǒngqíng / 2001人

品妤 Pǐnyú / 1697人

禹彤 Yǔtóng / 1578人

羽彤 Yǔtóng / 1434人

芯语 | 芯語 Xīnyǔ / 1342人

宥蓁 Yòuzhēn / 1226人

语彤 | 語彤 Yǔtóng / 1221人

苡晴 Yǐqíng / 1164人

Top 10 full names

In Mainland China the most common full names are usually something like 张伟 and 李娜. In Taiwan, 单名 (single-character given names) are much rarer, so the results are very different. We can also really see the dominance of the surname 陈 here. The rest of the top 100 are on pg. 268 of the report (pg. 269 of the PDF).

Male

陈冠宇 | 陳冠宇 Chén Guànyǔ / 4021人

陈建宏 | 陳建宏 Chén Jiànhóng / 3524人

张家豪 | 張家豪 Zhāng Jiāháo / 2890人

陈俊宏 | 陳俊宏 Chén Jùnhóng / 2801人

陈冠廷 | 陳冠廷 Chén Guàntíng / 2469人

陈柏宇 | 陳柏宇 Chén Bóyǔ / 2383人

林建宏 Lín Jiànhóng / 2375人

陈柏翰 | 陳柏翰 Chén Bóhàn / 2353人

陈彦廷 | 陳彥廷 Chén Yàntíng / 2249人

陈信宏 | 陳信宏 Chén Xìnhóng / 2120人

Female

陈怡君 | 陳怡君 Chén Yíjūn / 5744人

林怡君 Lín Yíjūn / 4401人

陈淑芬 | 陳淑芬 Chén Shūfēn | Chén Shúfēn / 3747人

张雅婷 | 張雅婷 Zhāng Yǎtíng / 3491人

陈美玲 | 陳美玲 Chén Měilíng / 3235人

陈怡如 | 陳怡如 Chén Yírú / 3121人

陈美惠 | 陳美惠 Chén Měihuì / 3103人

陈淑惠 | 陳淑惠 Chén Shūhuì | Chén Shúhuì / 2921人

林淑惠 Lín Shūhuì | Lín Shúhuì / 2903人

陈淑贞 | 陳淑貞 Chén Shūzhēn | Chén Shúzhēn / 2751人

Unisex/gender-neutral names

Do you want a name that doesn't strongly lean towards masculine or feminine? The report also highlight the common names across genders. It seems their criteria for this was names falling between 40% male-60% female and 60% male-40% female.

To clarify, they actually looked at the top 100 full names, not given names. For instance, 宥均 Yòujūn was on the list three times with three different surnames. But I re-sorted the list by given name since I was curious to see that. You can find the original data on pg. 270 of the report (pg. 271 of the PDF).

宥均 Yòujūn Total: 1804人 Male: 54.77% Female: 45.23%

佳霖 Jiālín Total: 1111人 Male: 51.67% Female: 48.33%

家华 | 家華 Jiāhuá Total: 923人 Male: 53.41% Female: 46.59%

郁文 Yùwén Total: 847人 Male: 43.68% Female: 56.32%

禹安 Yǔ’ān Total: 789人 Male: 51.71% Female: 48.29%

以恩 Yǐ’ēn Total: 730人 Male: 49.32% Female: 50.68%

孟儒 Mèngrú Total: 643人 Male: 55.05% Female: 44.95%

冠桦 | 冠樺 Guànhuà Total: 643人 Male: 52.26% Female: 47.74%

靖恩 Jìng’ēn Total: 621人 Male: 44.93% Female: 55.07%

品辰 Pǐnchén Total: 600人 Male: 58.83% Female: 41.17%

Notes

The report is INCREDIBLY detailed. I'm not kidding. The body of the report is not that long, but it has a very long appendix with about 200 pages of tables. Here are some examples of data included that I didn't mention:

Most popular given names people changed their names to

Most common 单名 and 叠字名字

Most common last names by city/county

Indigenous peoples' use of the Latin alphabet for names

Prevalence of multi-character surnames

And so, so much more!

And FYI, the report uses the ROC calendar, which starts with the founding of the Republic of China. To convert from the ROC calendar to the Gregorian calendar, add 111. Ex: 1年=1912 112年=2023

Pronunciation & tones

冠 is a 多音字 that is pronounced guān or guàn. I went with guàn because that seems to be more common in names from what I've observed.

柏 is also a 多音字 that can be pronounced bǎi or bó. MDBG says Taiwan doesn't have the bǎi pronunciation. I usually hear it read as bó in names, so that's what I'm going with.

MDBG also says 淑 is pronounced shú (not shū) in Taiwan. Likewise, it says 筑 is zhú (not zhù). I'll take their word for it.

I tried to put apostrophes in the right places (like for 承恩 Chéng’ēn), but I'm really bad at knowing when and where to use it. Please pardon any mistakes!

See similar posts: Chinese surnames that are more common in Taiwan A closer look at Chinese names Analyzing Chinese names: Syllables & tones The evolution of Chinese names (Kontinentalist)

#chinese names #taiwan #chinese name #taiwanese names #taiwanese name #chinese #mandarin #mandarin chinese #chinese language #studyblr #langblr #learning languages #language learning #chinese langblr #mandarin langblr #languageblr

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black-bentley-niatruc · 2 months ago

Text

Fic

Title: The Mind-Body Problem [part 2/3]

[A bonus smutty thing happening between chapters 20 and 21 of my main Human AU fic]

Fandom: Good Omens

Category: M/M

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: filthy smut, check below for any squeaks/no-no's

Additional tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot; touch-starved; Crowley has a praise kink; inexperienced Crowley; experienced Aziraphale (kind of); fluff; first time; first time topping; first time things; chest-fucking; Aziraphale is a Pillow Princess; Crowley is a tease; Aziraphale has an oral fixation; angst (thanks, Crowley!); barebacking; butt plugs; anal sex; low-key D/s vibes, but not a 'proper' D/s setting; rough sex; safe, sane and consensual; kinky; more angst (thanks, Aziraphale!); face-fucking; Aziraphale is a mess; coming untouched; virginity kink; Aziraphale is a tease; first time bottoming

Words: 3575

Originally published: 2024-05-28

Summary

“I know we were meant to go on more dates, but could we spend the whole weekend here?” Crowley asks nonchalantly.

Aziraphale makes a sound of amusement, a little breath against Crowley’s skin. “Just say it.”

“What?”

“I know what you want. Ask.”

Crowley shudders at the stern tone and Aziraphale hides a smile against the back of his own hand.

“Marathon sex.”

Human AU, Crowley and Aziraphale try new things in their relationship That's it, that's the fic; can be read as a standalone

A relevant note: Crowley's Chinese zodiac sign in the main fic is a Snake 🐍 and Aziraphale's is a Dragon 🐉

Aziraphale feels so good – each cell of his body seemingly swelled with contentment and love – that he laughs softly at the all in all cruel joke. Not that he believes Crowley meant to hurt with those two words.

Attempting to return the frantic kisses, but too slow (or is it Crowley who always goes too fast for him?) Aziraphale tries to ignore the feelings catching in his throat and to cut them at their stems before they grow into something impossible to deny.

“Marry me, angel.”

Belatedly, he feels the smile disappear from his face, not quite in control of his expression, as he searches Crowley’s eyes, focused intently on his own.

They speak of something mischievous, yes, but only on the surface, pretending to be playful, but deeper still, there are things too soft and fragile, telling him how serious Crowley is – and how can soft and fragile things cut so viciously?

“Ask me again once we’re thinking clearly,” says Aziraphale as lightly as possible, instead of what he wants to say, burying the ‘Yes’ deep in his heart and cupping Crowley’s face in his hands.

“I’m thinking clearly,” Crowley insists. “Never thought clearer in my life.”

Something twists painfully in Aziraphale’s chest. He cannot let Crowley promise what he might regret in the future. The higher they fly, the more disastrous the fall. But, if they pretend not to be connected by the invisible line that Aziraphale felt the moment they met for the first time, then perhaps nothing and no-one can break it.

“Well, I’m not.”

The disappointment and hurt in Crowley’s eyes is almost unbearable, but he makes himself withstand the wounded stare.

“Okay,” says Crowley, looking away, getting back to his guarded self.

Breathing slowly out in relief, Aziraphale cuddles up to him, face pressed against his chest, dark red hairs tickling his cheek.

He closes his eyes, physically exhausted by the intense orgasm and emotionally torn to shreds by everything he doesn’t know how to deal with. How is it that Crowley goes on and on about the complexity of the world, yet, somehow, he operates in it as if everything were simple? Why does it feel like Aziraphale is walking in circles, one moment thinking he’s found his answers only to be thrown back to square one to start anew in the next?

“I hope the plug was unreasonably expensive and you paid with your card, so that your parents could see that,” Crowley mutters, causing Aziraphale to giggle hysterically.

“It was obscenely expensive and if they’re still checking what I’m buying, it’s entirely their own fault,” he admits.

“I’m so glad I signed up for the philosophy course.”

“Me too. Though, actually, we had no choice, it’s mandatory for our programme.”

“I know we were meant to go on more dates, but could we spend the whole weekend here?” Crowley asks nonchalantly.

Aziraphale makes a sound of amusement, a little breath against Crowley’s skin. “Just say it.”

“What?”

“I know what you want. Ask.”

Crowley shudders at the stern tone and Aziraphale hides a smile against the back of his own hand.

“Marathon sex.”

“There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Shut up.”

“About that,” Aziraphale says, wriggling in sudden excitement and nervousness. “There’s something I’d like you to... do to me.”

It’s Crowley’s turn to tease. “Oohh, I bet there is.”

“Nothing too complicated, really,” Aziraphale rushes to explain. “But of course―”

“Angel, if you don’t tell me what you mean, how can I tell you whether I want it?” Crowley huffs in irritation, stroking his hand down Aziraphale’s side.

Heat crawling up his neck and cheeks, Aziraphale presses his hand against his eyes in embarrassment.

“What you did today, except... my throat, and, slower,” he manages, not that fluent in dirty talk when he isn’t on edge or already aroused.

He can tell Crowley’s grinning when he asks, “Want me to shut you up with my cock? Love it.”

Aziraphale chuckles, still nervous despite Crowley’s explicit approval. “I like it rough,” he adds.

“’Course you do,” is Crowley’s reply and suddenly the warmth of his body disappears.

“Where are you going?” Aziraphale blurts out, hating the obvious clinginess behind his reaction.

“To wash my dick before I put it in your mouth!” Crowley calls back, the crude phrasing and nonchalance in his tone causing Aziraphale’s cheeks to burn.

Oh.

Aziraphale didn’t expect Crowley to immediately implement his plan as if he were only waiting for a request of any kind. Not that he’s going to complain.

By the time Crowley comes back, Aziraphale is sitting on his heels next to the bed and shivering slightly from anticipation and the cool air caressing his naked skin.

“Wow,” says Crowley as soon as his eyes land on him. “The only thing missing is a collar around your neck.”

There is a lilt to this statement, a hidden question.

Would Aziraphale allow Crowley to put a collar on him?

“I’ll be sure to add it to my next shopping list,” he assures with a smile, watching the Adam’s apple in Crowley’s throat bob as he swallows, hard.

“Can’t wait,” Crowley breathes, stepping close, lazily stroking a hand over his erection.

Aziraphale licks his lips, leaning in to take the cock into his mouth, but Crowley doesn’t let him, cupping his palm over the flared head.

Shooting him an offended look, Aziraphale can’t keep the pout off his face.

“You’ll only take what I give you, and nothing more, you greedy cherub,” says Crowley with a mean grin.

The fiend.

Huffing through his nose, Aziraphale presses his lips together. If Crowley thinks he’s going to beg for it, then he’s got another thing coming.

A temptingly hot cockhead brushes against Aziraphale’s lips. “Open up.”

He makes sure Crowley can see him glaring defiantly. A bead of clear precome oozes from the slit, glinting tantalisingly, and Aziraphale curls his hands into fists, where they rest against his thighs. A trickle of Crowley’s seed leaks out of him in that moment and he gasps at the unfamiliar but somehow deeply arousing feeling.

The lapse in his concentration doesn’t escape Crowley’s notice. “You okay there?” he asks, his concern evident and so very sweet.

There goes all of Aziraphale’s resolve. Nodding once, he opens his mouth expectantly, pushing his tongue out just enough so that the tip is visible over his lower lip. With a sigh, Crowley presses his cockhead against the flat of Aziraphale’s tongue, rubbing gently against it with slow, shallow thrusts.

Mouth watering, Aziraphale swallows quickly. He probably should have warned it might get really messy, bordering on disgusting, at least for some people. He’s in no position to talk, now, though. He wishes Crowley would start fucking his throat already. He’d like to close his lips around him. He’d love to suck his cock.

Instead, he allows Crowley to tease him mercilessly, more precome spreading over his tongue as he waits patiently, breathing faster every time Crowley dives deeper into his mouth only to draw back again.

He moans softly when the warm cockhead hits his soft palate. Crowley groans in response, hand curling in Aziraphale’s hair, eliciting an appreciative whine, the vibrations hopefully pleasant.

“You really want me to be rough?” Crowley asks, the uncertainty and concern in his voice endearing to Aziraphale’s ears.

In response, Aziraphale grasps his hips firmly and groans around the cock in his mouth.

It seems to be enough seeing as Crowley slams into his throat without any further warnings. Tears of pain prick at the corners of Aziraphale’s eyes and he moans again, making sure to wrap his lips around his teeth – a somewhat tricky thing he never needed to learn (but he did, anyway; he doesn’t like doing things by halves).

Crowley’s so good to him – as slow and brutal as Aziraphale dreamed. His throat burns. He can’t stop moaning and squirming. His cock aches, but he keeps his hands around Crowley’s hips, digging his nails in whenever he needs to breathe. His chin is wet with spit and he revels in the undignified feeling.

He comes untouched, spilling messily over his belly and thighs, moaning loudly, tears running down his hot cheeks.

“Fuck, angel,” Crowley whines above him. “Can I come on your face?”

Normally, Aziraphale believes refractory periods to be nature’s unnecessary joke, the kind that nobody gets, but in this moment he’s grateful he physically can’t get hard again, because he’s sure he would come immediately, either at Crowley’s question or the moment his hot seed paints his cheek and nose and lips – and another orgasm like this would probably kill him.

Staring up at Crowley, Aziraphale distractedly wipes at his own wet chin with the back of his hand.

“A moment,” says Crowley, sitting at the edge of his bed, breathing hard. “I’ll bring some water― Just.”

Aziraphale understands what he means. He feels uncomfortably sticky with – he counts quickly – four...? – loads of come and just as uncomfortably slippery with lubricant, and he’d love to take a hot shower and yes, a glass of water does sound nice, but most of all he wants to cuddle with Crowley and fall asleep together in bed that’s been getting progressively filthier as well.

However, he is not that spoiled and Crowley has been so good to him, so he volunteers to bring the water and wanders to the kitchen, lightheaded from the oxygen deprivation and dazed from everything else.

He finds the glasses (and a paper towel to wipe his face relatively clean) and takes two bottles of water from the fridge. There is something domestic about it that he doesn’t want to dwell on, but his mind latches onto the feeling. So many day-to-day things they could do...

Crowley drinks his water straight from the bottle and Aziraphale smiles privately because he expected that.

“You should see yourself,” says Crowley, eyes raking over his entire body hungrily as Aziraphale takes his water in small sips, his abused throat hurting with every swallow. “You look like sin.”

“And all you want to do is sin?” Aziraphale prompts, laughing at his own terrible joke.

“That’s about right!” Crowley agrees, laughing with him even as he rolls his eyes.

“Well, I am in desperate need of a shower, I suppose, but...” Aziraphale sighs, shaking his head, tired.

“...meh,” Crowley finishes his thought. “I’m thinking: some sleep and then shower, but we do something worth getting out of bed there.”

When Aziraphale gets all wrapped in Crowley’s long limbs, he thinks – not for the first time – that there really is something snake-like about him and that he’s going to need some serious motivation to leave the bed, which is new to him, seeing that he’s not a fan of sleep. Crowley is, though, and the way he cuddles against Aziraphale to absorb his warmth and drifts off easily is a surprisingly soothing experience.

As it turns out, not even two hours later, all the motivation Aziraphale needs to leave the bed and shower is the prospect of a hot shower itself. Crowley joins him, complaining the entire way, until the steaming water hits his skin and the grumbling noises switch into ones indicating deep appreciation. In the meantime, Aziraphale re-appreciates Crowley’s body with his hands and mouth.

He insists they decide on sort of safe words to use when either needs to stop completely or just a little break for whatever reasons (because Crowley’s concerned check-ins are too sweet and too disarming, but he doesn’t tell him that) and Crowley chooses Plato and orange respectively, explaining that ‘Berkeley is too long’ when Aziraphale raises his eyebrow at him.

“Now that we’re properly cleaned,” Crowley begins, shivering with cold as he throws an oversized, black band T-shirt at Aziraphale and pulls a similar piece of clothing over his own head, “I want you to top me.”

Torn between amusement at the phrasing and the thrill of wearing something that belongs to Crowley, no matter how distant it is from his usual style, Aziraphale touches one of the sleeves affectionately with a smile and a short, “Alright, yes.”

Gosh, he hopes that didn’t sound too eager.

“Listen, I―” Crowley breaks off. “Wait, I expected I’d have to do more convincing.”

“Oh, do you want me to say no, so that you can ‘convince’ me?” Aziraphale offers, only half-jokingly.

“No, I don’t want any more coddling.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, it’s― what?! Okay!”

Still, Aziraphale sits on the bed with his back against the wall and insists that Crowley straddle him, at least for his first time, so that he can control the depth and tempo, discover what he likes best without interference from Aziraphale’s personal preferences.

“You just want me to do all the work,” Crowley accuses, gesturing around with the bottle of lubricant, but he settles in Aziraphale’s lap with a feverish look on his face – beautiful eyes glassy, cheeks flushed delicious red.

“Oh, no, you have discovered my diabolical plan,” Aziraphale mocks, good-natured, trying to convince his mind that the fact he’s the first one to do all those things with Crowley is not that arousing. His mind is of a different opinion, however.

Crowley hands him the purple bottle. “More like, the depths of your laziness,” he growls, sounding angry, but Aziraphale can tell he’s being hissy as a principle. “At least prepare me,” he demands.

“With pleasure,” says Aziraphale, already warming the viscous fluid with his fingers.

A soft sound falls from Crowley’s lips before he tilts Aziraphale’s head up and bows down to kiss him hungrily.

With his clean hand splayed over Crowley’s chest – he thinks he might be a little obsessed with the feeling of Crowley’s heartbeat against his skin – he reaches around the lithe body in his lap, slick fingers exploring unhurriedly between the firm cheeks.

When his fingertip catches against the tight little hole, Crowley breaks the kiss with a groan and curses, thighs tensing. He doesn’t use any of the words they agreed on, so Aziraphale presses gently against the furled tissue, licking his lips as Crowley lowers his hips greedily, attempting to take in Aziraphale’s finger, but failing due to Aziraphale withdrawing his hand just enough.

“Angel,” Crowley complains, giving him a look so betrayed it would look comical, if his eagerness weren’t so arousing.

Aziraphale gives in and feels the inviting warmth of Crowley’s body around the tip of his finger, his thoughts circling insistently around the fact that no-one has ever touched Crowley so intimately, and oh, Aziraphale can’t wait to bury himself to the hilt inside this heat― don’t dragons like virgins?

“Hhnngghh,” says Crowley and Aziraphale cannot help but agree as he presses in, slowly, but without a pause, until his whole finger disappears inside. He curls it, searching, until Crowley makes a prolonged sound, something between a sigh and a moan, a string of clear fluid oozing out of his cock at the new stimulation, leaving dark stains on his T-shirt.

It would seem they forgot to take these off.

Aziraphale stares at the precome that keeps leaking from the slit wishing he could lick Crowley’s cock clean and keep licking it until Crowley’s utterly spent. Perhaps another time.

Leaving the gland alone for now, Aziraphale moves his finger in a more thrusting manner until Crowley gasps, hips twitching for a while in little, abortive jerks, and then he’s suddenly fucking himself on Aziraphale’s finger, groaning, curling his hands around Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“Well? Do you feel prepared?” Aziraphale prompts gently.

“Ah!” Crowley looks down between them, eyeing Aziraphale’s cock doubtfully. “Are you sure about stretching with three fingers being a myth?” he asks cautiously.

Huffing a breathless laugh, Aziraphale kisses him, lips soft and tender, holding his head still by the jaw delicately, as he withdraws his finger and immediately comes back with two, swallowing Crowley’s groan.

Not giving him much time to process what’s going on, he adds the third finger to prove his point, feeling Crowley’s entire body tense and then immediately melt against him.

“How about now?” he asks, letting their lips part.

“Fuck,” says Crowley, panting and squirming. There’s a drop of sweat running down the side of his throat and Aziraphale leans up to catch it with his lips. “Someone’s eager,” Crowley adds, his voice a little too weak for the full teasing effect.

“You have no idea,” Aziraphale admits, looking into his eyes.

“Ngk.” Crowley avoids his gaze as if it burns him. “You really are a slut,” he mutters, taking hold of Aziraphale’s cock and sliding off of his fingers.

The words sting for the briefest moment, but Aziraphale remembers that Crowley tends to say all kinds of things when he’s overwhelmed, so maybe he doesn’t really mean it.

“I’m your slut,” he replies with a playful smile to see if he manages to lighten the mood.

It has the opposite effect, it would seem, as Crowley’s eyes shoot back to his face to stare at him, his lips slightly parted.

“I think your true diabolical plan is to kill me.”

“We shall find out by Monday.”

At this, Crowley grins at him, and then his features sharpen in concentration as he raises on his knees, apparently ready for the next part.

“Crowley, dear, wait,” says Aziraphale, alarmed, searching for the bottle of lubricant with one hand and holding Crowley gently by the hip with the other.

“Yes, I know,” Crowley hisses impatiently, pretending he didn’t forget about slicking Aziraphale’s cock.

Definitely not in a mood to argue about who knows what, Aziraphale completes this task himself without a comment. Crowley doesn’t talk either as he finally sinks down onto Aziraphale’s cock, torturously slow and with maddening breaks, really, who’s trying to kill whom, again?

People often assume that Aziraphale has poor self-control, probably something to do with his admittedly hedonistic lifestyle. Generally speaking, he agrees. But he thinks he’s perfectly capable of reining himself in, perhaps with two exceptions – being pushed to his very limits and choosing to surrender his control if he feels safe doing so (he already did that with Crowley).

Focusing on his breathing and watching Crowley’s face for any signs of discomfort, he keeps as still as possible and allows him to move, and what moves they are―

Breathing deeply, admiring the view, staving off his orgasm, teasing Crowley’s nipples and cock – all within his capability.

“Fuck me,” Crowley groans, throwing his head back.

Aziraphale’s eyes wander along the lines of his white, exposed throat. He isn’t entirely sure if Crowley’s words were a request or just a figure of speech, but he decides there’s no harm in trying to find out, so he rocks up into Crowley with measured thrusts, unerringly hitting the prostate once they discover the perfect angle together, and is endlessly happy to hear Crowley – right above his head – spilling absolute filth with his tongue, and then swearing and calling out until he’s finally reduced to broken cries and whimpers.

Aziraphale feels him come, the muscles pulsing around his cock giving away Crowley’s uncharacteristically silent orgasm. He groans, fucking him through it gently, but eventually he has to help Crowley pull off, knowing that further stimulation would be unpleasant to him.

Crowley is boneless and sluggish in his arms and looks at him with such dazed, sex-stupid eyes that Aziraphale can’t help grinning just a tad smugly.

“Shut up,” Crowley mumbles as soon as he’s able to do more than panting.

Aziraphale obediently doesn’t talk, instead leaning up to kiss and lick at Crowley’s neck.

“Next time, I don’t want you to hold back,” says Crowley, touching Aziraphale’s face with a hand covered in streaks of semen.

“You really enjoy ‘marking’ me,” Aziraphale observes, sending him a knowing smile, still somewhat smug.

Crowley blinks at him until he seems to notice what he’s doing, and he bites his lip, as if caught. “Yes,” he admits, following that with a choked sound and resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, his other hand reaching between them to caress Aziraphale’s cock with slow strokes.

Moaning softly, Aziraphale presses his face into Crowley’s hair, still wet from the shower, eyes closed.

“What’s in your basket?” Crowley asks and there is an edge to his voice, like he’s suddenly suspicious.

Aziraphale concentrates on the meaning behind words with difficulty. “Wine. Some cheese. Spare clothes, though it looks like I’m not going to need them.”

“Right.” Crowley grins, pointing at his own T-shirt, which belongs in the washing machine, and offers his come-stained fingers for Aziraphale to lick clean, which he sets to with a pleased sigh. “I think we could just spend those two days in the shower, really. Would save us time.”

Aziraphale makes an amused sound at the idea but is also delighted by the thought they still have almost two days of this. His throat throbs painfully, reminding him how exquisitely Crowley fucked it.

Mere minutes later he climaxes, moaning around the long fingers in his mouth.

#Black_Bentley.txt #good omens fanfiction #good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #fic: Introduction to Philosophy – an Inter-Faculty Course

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scav-gifs-daily · 10 months ago

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hi, i like to sometimes draw scavs for fun. recently i drew this one and me and my friend liked it enough to name it. i call them chimichanga and I was wondering if you could find a scav similar to it in-game? thank you for your service!! 🙏🙏🙏🥺

ID: 3575

OH HI THATS A REALLY CUTE SCAV... I LOVE HOW YOU DREW THEM? Anygay this one is the closest i have on hand i think! blue scavs are very pretty :]

#rw scavenger #gif #rainworld #rain world #rw scav #transparent #creature #ask

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 12 days ago

Text

Stay (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 30 Alt Prompt 10. “If you weren’t around, I’d be long dead by now...” Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick, Hangman, Bob, FloydSin, Jake's POV Summary: Jake thought he died in that alley after he was mugged. But thanks to a special someone, he pulled through. And when Bob brings him a gift more precious than his own life, Jake does what he should have done a long time ago. Word Count: 3575 TW: College AU, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confession, Hospital, Amputation, Language, Hopeful Ending Notes: Thank you to @green-socks for beta reading this for me! For @ailesswhumptober's whumptober event.

Part 1

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

Jake had fucked up big this time. He had realized that fact a while ago as he shoved his tongue into that random girl’s mouth while they were still in the club, but he ignored that feeling and just tried to shut his mind off for the night. Something just felt off about the way this girl had come on to him and lured him onto the dance floor, but he didn’t question it.

Twenty minutes later as he found himself laying in the back alley broken, bruised, bloody, and fucking stabbed, Jake regretted that decision.

Once he had realized what was happening, he hadn’t even tried fighting back that much. He was outnumbered and it was better to just let the five muggers and the girl he had been flirting with take what they wanted and leave him be. But all that changed the moment one of the men reached for Ty’s ring.

Jake would give them everything else he owned in this world, but they couldn’t take his brother’s ring. He wouldn’t let them. Yet there was little he could do as one of his attackers drove his fist into the fresh stab wound on Jake’s back and Jake collapsed to the ground like a ragdoll.

At that point, he began to sob. He begged with everything he had left in him for them to leave the ring but it made no difference. One of the men stood on his wrist—his boot crunching the bones and skinning Jake’s palm against the pavement—while another ripped Tyler’s ring off his finger. Jake felt as if his finger had been ripped off, the pain so intense he nearly blacked out. And as he watched his attackers gloat to his buddy and slide the ring onto his own finger, it felt like Jake had lost his brother for a second time.

He didn’t remember what happened next. Between the pain in his hand, the pain in his back, the pain in practically all of him, and the blood loss, Jake was barely able to cling to consciousness. And even if he could, the muggers had smashed his phone and he was in no condition to get to his feet to find help. What was the point of hanging on only to prolong the inevitable?

So, Jake Seresin had done something he had never once in his life done before: he gave up.

“Jake? Is that you?”

There were maybe only two or three voices in the world that could have drawn Jake back from the inky black abyss he was letting himself sink into but Bob Floyd was at the top of that list.

Forcing open his one good—well, decent—eye, Jake swallowed a few times before he managed to croak out, “B-Bob?”

From the darkness, he saw a shadowy figure walking towards him. As he got closer, Jake swore Bob looked like a goddamn angel as he approached, a soft glowing halo of light outlining his body from the light of the street. And for a moment, Jake wasn’t sure if Bob was really standing there or if this really was an angel coming to ferry him to whatever came next.

Part of him didn’t care. At least he was able to see Bob one last time, real or not. If only he had gotten the chance to tell him the truth about how he felt about him…

When Jake first met Bob, he hadn’t given him more than a cursory glance. And even once Bob began to become a constant presence in their friend group, he still remained little more than set dressing for the evening. He was so quiet and withdrawn that Jake forgot he was there half the time as he blended into the background. But he was Natasha’s roommate who she had been best friends with since their first day of college three years ago, so wherever she went, Bob tended to follow—most of the time seemingly against his will. However, he never complained or objected to the group’s plans so Jake figured he would just continue to ignore him and things would continue like normal.

But all that changed when Javy and Natasha began hooking up late last year. Soon, “Jake and Javy’s Boys Night Extravaganzas” turned into “Jake and Javy plus Natasha and Bob’s Time Together”. And Jake hated every minute of it.

As soon as they got to a club or popped in a movie at their apartment, Javy and Natasha would be all over each other leaving Jake awkwardly hanging with Bob, neither quite sure what to do. The first few times this happened, Jake either left to find some fun on his own or sat in silence as he scrolled through the apps on his phone. And Bob…Bob would just sit or stand in the same spot with his hands folded in his lap as he tried to stare anywhere but at his best friend going at it with Jake’s best friend.

Finally, one day when they all went to a bar and Javy and Natasha had already disappeared into the bathrooms, Jake’s phone died. The decision to go out that night had been a spur-of-the-moment one and he hadn’t had time to charge it or grab his power bank from the drawer on the way out. Tossing his phone onto the table with a huff, Jake glanced around the room to see what else could keep him occupied. But, unfortunately, it was early in the night and only a handful of people mulled around the space. So, Jake did the only thing he could think to do: He started a conversation with Bob.

By the end of the night, Jake was captivated by the other man.

It turned out that Bob was nothing like he had assumed. He was sweet and he was smart but, most surprising of all, once he started letting his guard down, he could snap back with barbed comments that could put Jake to shame. And Jake realized that there was so much more depth behind those wire-frame glasses than he ever imagined. When Javy and Nat returned to say they were ready to head out, Jake found he was actually sad to say goodnight to Bob.

Soon, Jake began dropping hints to Javy about inviting Natasha (and by extension, Bob) to hang out more often or to come with them when they went out. He could tell Javy was suspicious of the 180° change in attitude, but since it allowed him to spend time with Natasha without Jake throwing a fit, Javy didn’t question it. Which left Jake free to see Bob pretty much as often as he wanted without making a big deal about it. And as time went on, he found he was developing real feelings for the other man.

Jake had been with his share of men over the years. He might not advertise the fact he was pansexual, but he also didn’t try to hide it. However, he was fairly certain Bob wasn’t interested in men. In fact, Jake sometimes wondered if Bob was interested in anyone.

Which was why he was so taken aback when Bob suddenly kissed him at the big end of Spring Break party. They had been sitting together by one of the bonfires on the beach. Everyone else had either gone back into the bar or were getting busy in one of the secluded areas just over the dunes leaving the two of them completely alone. Jake turned to ask Bob something when, suddenly, his lips smashed against Jake’s.

Jake startled slightly at the unexpected kiss. But as soon as the shock wore off, he smiled against Bob’s lips and leaned into him. The kiss was clumsy and a little awkward, but it was exactly the kind of kiss he’d expect from Bob, and that made it feel perfect. Jake raised his hand to wrap around the back of Bob’s neck and draw him in—

Then Javy yelled from behind one of the dunes, asking if Jake had a condom, and the spell was broken. Bob jumped up from his seat, his face a deep red and his eyes like saucers behind his glasses. He tried to stutter out some sort of apology or explanation but before Jake could reassure him it was alright, Bob ran into the bar without another glance in Jake’s direction.

Ever since then, it felt like Bob had been avoiding him and Jake tried to give him space to figure things out. He just hoped that even if Bob realized he wasn’t interested in him in that way, they could still find a way to be friends—even if Jake desperately wanted them to be more.

But now it didn’t matter. Jake had tried to use the last of his strength as he bled out to tell Bob the truth, but he only managed a few words and a soft caress of Bob’s cheek before he finally succumbed to the darkness. Now, it was all over, he was dead, and he never got the chance to talk to Bob about the kiss or what it meant to either of them. If only—

Jake opened his eyes to find himself in a hospital bed.

There was a knock at the door, so soft that Jake wasn’t sure he really heard it at first. But when the person knocked again with slightly more force, Jake called out, “Yeah, come in.”

The door creaked open and out of his good eye Jake saw a pair of wire framed glasses peering at him through the crack in the door. Jake’s heart leaped in his chest and he prayed his visitor hadn’t noticed the increased beep of his heart monitor. With a wide closed-lip smile (he was still self-conscious about his missing teeth), he said, “Hey, there’s my hero. I was hoping you’d stop by.”

Pushing the door open a little further, Bob stepped into the room, a backpack thrown over his shoulder. “T-They said you’ve been awake for a few days but were just now allowed visitors. I hope it’s okay—”

“Are you kidding me?” Jake said, cutting him off. “Bobby, you saved my life. If you weren’t around that night, I’d be long dead by now. You can come visit me anytime. Hell, I’ll even give you a key to my fucking apartment if you want and you can have free reign there too. What’s mine is yours.”

A pink hue crept up Bob’s neck. “That’s not necessary. I just wanted to see how you’re feeling.”

“Like shit,” Jake chuckled, trying to brush off the worst of what he was dealing with so as to not upset Bob. “The pain meds are doing wonders though. Now if I can just charm my nurse into upping them slightly, we’d be in business.”

“I would think you’d be good at that. I don’t know many people who can resist your charm.” Bob’s face suddenly paled as he realized what he said and he quickly changed the subject. “They, uh, they weren’t allowed to tell me any details about your condition, doctor-patient confidentiality and all that. But I heard you had to have a few operations?”

Jake shifted in the bed, the smile on his face becoming even more difficult to force as he said, “Uh, yeah. Most of the damage was just stuff that has to heal on its own like bruises, cuts, my swollen eye. Plus, I’m going to have to go to a dentist about my teeth once I’m released. But, um, apparently I had some internal bleeding from the stab wound they had to patch up and, uh, then there’s this.” Jake held up his left hand to reveal the thick gauze wrapping around his hand and the gap between his middle and pinky fingers.

Bob’s face somehow went even whiter as he stared at Jake’s hand. “Oh my god, Jake. I’m so sorry.”

Jake lowered his hand with a shrug. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t your fault, was it? I guess the doctors said when those guys pulled Tyler’s ring off my finger, it caused something called—” Jake paused as he tried to remember the term the surgeon had told him “—ring avulsion? Basically, it severely internally damaged the nerves and bones and stuff to the point there was nothing they could do to save it. So snip, snip, and I guess I’ll have to figure out a new way of doing math since I can’t count to ten anymore.”

Despite Jake’s ill attempt at humor, Bob’s face was still mournful. “Jake, I-I don’t know what to say. I–Will you still be able to play football?”

“They think so,” Jake shrugged. “It’ll take a little bit of practice maybe to get used to it, but at least it wasn’t my right hand. All in all, it could have been a lot worse.”

Jake swallowed sharply as he felt a lump growing in his throat. He had already discussed all of this with the doctors, his parents, his coaches, and a few of his teammates, including Javy. They had all been supportive and encouraging and Jake had forced his smile then too. However, there was another aspect to losing his finger that he was struggling with yet hadn’t felt comfortable sharing with anyone.

However, as he looked at Bob, he found the words finally tumbling from his mouth. “I don’t even really care about the finger, you know? I’ve got nine more and it’s not like I lost a thumb or anything really important. But it’s just that much more of a reminder that Ty’s ring’s gone too.”

“I remember you telling me about Tyler and what his ring meant to you.” Bob set his backpack down on the floor. “Jake, I—”

But Jake cut him off. Now that he had finally opened the dam, he couldn’t stop the words from flooding out. “My brother was the best man I’ve ever known, and it’s been almost a decade but I still can’t believe he’s gone. He had all these plans and goals for his future and just like that, they were gone…and so was he.”

He sniffed and rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. “So every day, I try to be the man he never got the chance to be. I know I can never be him and that I let him down a lot but I do try. And that ring was the only thing I had left of Tyler. But now it’s been ripped from me and I…I feel like any connection I still had with him is gone too.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Bob said, his eyes bright behind his glasses. “It’s not gone.”

Jake blinked several times in quick succession. “W-what do you mean?”

Bob reached into his backpack and pulled out a small jewelry box. With a smile that stretched across his entire face, he popped open the box and Jake gasped.

The ring inside was unmistakable. After all, Jake had spent every single day of his adult life staring at the yellow gem set in the center of the gold engraved base as it sat on his finger.

Tears sprung to Jake’s eyes as he gazed at his most prized possession, the one he never imagined he’d ever see again. His voice caught in his throat, but after a few shuddering breaths, he managed to whisper, “Where did you…?”

“I knew what it meant to you, so I made sure the police knew it was one of the items stolen. Between Javy’s memory and a few pictures we found of you where it was visible, we were able to give them a pretty good idea of what it looked like. Last night, they tracked it at a pawn shop just outside LA and used footage on the security cameras to identify the muggers. They got ‘em, Jake. They got all six of them. ” Bob walked forward until he was right next to Jake and he placed the ring box on the tray in front of him. “And it’s all because of Tyler’s ring. So, see, your brother’s still looking out for you.”

Tears streamed silently down Jake’s face as he stared at the ring. He couldn’t believe he had actually gotten it back. But as much as he loved the sentiment behind Bob’s words and would treasure that thought forever, Jake knew that Tyler wasn’t the reason it was returned, that the muggers were captured, or that Jake was even still alive.

Wrapping his fingers into Bob’s t-shirt, Jake ignored the pain radiating from his stitched-up stab wound and yanked on the material. The other man was caught by surprise and fell to his knees. Before he could catch his bearings, Jake leaned forward and pressed his lips to Bob’s.

Kissing with three missing teeth was a strange experience, but Jake ignored this new sensation as he tried to make Bob feel comfortable with the kiss. He could feel how tense he was and, for a moment, Jake thought he might have misinterpreted everything between them. But then, Bob began kissing him back. Hesitantly at first, then more forcefully until Jake swore he felt some real heat in the exchange. It was just a glimpse of the Bob he knew hid beneath the shy, quiet outer shell, but the prospect of discovering more of this heated side made Jake’s heart race (a fact that his heart monitor picked up on).

Fearing this excitement may alert his nurses and lead to some unwanted visitors, Jake reluctantly pulled back. Bob’s lips seemed to chase after his for a moment, and Jake smiled.

With his face still hovering in front of Bob’s, he whispered, “I know exactly who saved me that night and got me my ring back. And I’ll never forget it.”

Releasing Bob’s shirt, Jake winced as he leaned back against his bed. In a more normal tone, he added, “But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve just been wanting to kiss you again since that night during Spring Break and I thought I’d lost my chance when I was dying in that alley.”

Bob straightened his glasses, his face an adorable shade of pink as he caught his breath. “Wait, you…you wanted to…?”

“‘Course I did. I have for a long time but I wasn’t sure if you were interested in guys or not. Then, you ran off so quickly after the kiss that I thought maybe you had changed your mind or something. If that was the case, I didn’t want to push it. I figured if you were interested, you’d come back eventually.”

“I didn’t think you were interested in guys,” Bob mumbled, his head down and gaze trained on the floor. “You’re always picking up some gorgeous girl at the club—”

“Or guy. Or however they want to identify themselves. I don’t really care. I just like being with people who I have a good time with.” Jake smiled, “And I always have a good time when I’m with you, Bob.”

“Bobby.”

Jake blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Raising his head, Bob stared at Jake. “I-I like it when you call me Bobby.”

A natural, unforced smile spread across Jake’s face and he didn’t even mind it showed off the gaps in his teeth. “Good. I like it too.” He reached over and took Bob’s hand. “So, Bobby, does this mean you have a good time when you’re with me too?”

“Yeah, it does,” Bob muttered. Then, scoffing, he added, “Did you really think I was always volunteering to help you with geometry because I enjoy the Pythagorean theorem that much?”

Jake laughed. “Well…you’re full of surprises so who knows.”

“No, I might be good at it, but I hate geometry. Always have. But it meant getting to spend time with you so it was worth it.” Bob squeezed Jake’s hand gently and gave him a small smile.

“You could have just told me, you know.”

Bob rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like I thought Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin— the school’s football quarterback god who is being scouted for the pro leagues and could have anyone he ever wanted—could ever possibly like me back. People like you don’t normally give people like me a second glance, and even when you did, I thought you were just doing it for Nat and Javy’s sake.”

“I admit, I was at first.” Bob’s hand began to slip from his, but Jake held firmly onto it. “However, once I got to know you, I wanted to spend every minute I could with you, even if you never liked me the same way I liked you.”

Bob leaned across the bed, his face only a few inches from Jake’s as he whispered, “And how do you like me, Jake?”

Jake licked his lips, flinching slightly as his tongue dragged across his split bottom lip, and he stared directly into Bob’s big, blue eyes. “I think you know.”

“I’m starting to figure it out.” A small smile flickered on Bob’s lips. “So, what happens now?”

Jake shrugged. “What do you want to happen now?”

“I think…” Bob’s cheeks grew pink again as his eyes dropped to Jake’s lips. But when he looked back up into Jake’s eyes, his gaze was strong and determined. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.”

Leaning forward to close the distance between them, Jake murmured, “Anything for my hero.”

Tag List: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @ohtobeleah, @hederasgarden,

@wildbornsiren, @writercole, @ryebecca, @phoenixhalliwell, @sunshineflowerchild789

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exohd · 3 months ago

Text

2681 x 3575

#chen #exo #official #magazine #atstyle #behind the scenes

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tiny-minecraft-rabbit · 11 months ago

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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.

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