OK I DIDN'T NOTICE THIS BEFORE BUT THE WAY THAT WHEN WE'RE SEEING MARIO AT THE SAME TIME AS LUIGI, MARIO IS GREY AND BLURRY BECAUSE LUIGI DOESN'T REALLY RECOGNIZE HIM
Teehee ok so I finalized my dream design and one of my nightmare human designs… tomorrow you’ll see my ink and error humans but yes. I changed some traits of the WIP of dreams human design cause I wanted him to look like nightmares twin (I see when people humanize them they make them not look like siblings) anyways here’s the first set of goobers! Stay tuned for my plethora of dumb human designs
Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.
LNDS Rafayel: Questions That Keep Us Up At Night (18+)
I started writing this yesterday but then a certain SOMEONE made me brainrot over Xavier, so here we are today. My only goals today is to finish the Xavier brainrot I have and then get a request page set up. Wish me luck and enjoy the torture I put our local fish boy through. This was supposed to be another crack fic but alas here we are.
Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.
Warnings: Suggestive Questions, Non-Human Mating Suggested, Teasing
Synopsis: You just needed to know the answers to some of the questions that kept you up at night. Who knew Rafayel would be so...flustered over them.
Word Count: 1,597
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Rafayel
Questions That Keep Us Up At Night
Reader x Rafayel
“So do Lemurians lay eggs?” It had been an innocent question, one that you asked so casually you hadn’t even bothered to look up from your phone. The room was suddenly silent, the noises of chopping from earlier had disappeared and you finally looked up from your screen to see Rafayel just staring at you from the kitchen.
His face looked complex, a mixture of amusement and horror crossing it as he processed what you had just asked him. He blinked a few times before taking in a deep breath to reorient himself. He should be used to your eccentric questions at this point, hell he often asked you some pretty weird things. He just wasn’t expecting this on a Tuesday afternoon.
Rafayel finally managed to look back at you, “Oh, I didn’t realize you were so curious about Lemurians.” He was putting on an air of indifference it would seem, “Out of all the questions though, why this one? You aren’t thinking of trying to do something to me, are you?”
“Okay well first off, always thinking about that.” You began, making Rafayel choke on air for a split second, “Second off, I’m just curious. Mammals are known for giving live birth, but most aquatic life lay eggs. So where do Lemurians fit in all this?”
“If I’m not mistaken, mammals are classified as having hair or fur on them, so by those standards, Lemurians would be considered mammals, or did you forget that with your brain in the fish bowl?” Rafayel teased, a sly smirk crossing his face.
“Okay that might be true, but the lower half where the babies would pop out of is fish based. Covered in scales. Mammals don’t have scales unless you’re referring to Pangolins.” You explained to him as simply as you could.
“A pangolin?” Rafayel asked, having no clue what those were.
“Scaly anteaters.” You explained.
Rafayel was silent for a moment, “...Did you look that up just to see if mammals could have scales to prove your theory?”
“Obviously…although now that I think about it, if the bottom half is that of a fish and the top half is a mammal, would you lay eggs, hatch them, and then produce milk to feed the baby?” You said, tapping your lower lip in question.
“I’m stopping you right there…why are you asking all these questions?” Rafayel said, trying to get back to what he was doing earlier.
“These are the questions that keep me up at night, and only you can answer them for me, Raf.” You admitted. You didn’t even want to think about the multiple times you had woken up in the dead of night and laid in bed, thinking about Lemurian eggs for literal hours.
Rafayel smirked as he leaned over the counter, “Does this mean you’ve been having thoughts of me when you’re trying to sleep?”
“I’m not trying to incriminate myself, Raf.” You said, pointing an accusing finger at him, “I’m just saying that the question about Lemurian eggs, amongst several other things, have been on my mind.”
“Other things?” Rafayel murmured just loud enough for you to hear it. He looked at you, curiosity but also hesitance crossing his features.
“Well ya, for instance I know that some aquatic creatures have two.” You said, holding up the number two with your fingers.
Rafayel sighed, looking almost pained as he wanted to clarify what you were asking, “Two of what.” He was hoping it wasn’t what he thought it was.
“Dicks, penis, cocks, levers, fun handles, joysticks.” You said, listing off both the actual names as well as some euphemisms you knew.
Rafayel once again stopped what he was doing. You watched as he put the knife down next to him. You wanted to ask him why he was stopping since he had been so deadset that he’d prepare lunch this afternoon. You had been waiting ages for the salmon salad he was making.
“Really?” He asked, gesturing to the food in front of him, “Right in front of my salad?”
You couldn’t help but stare directly into those beautiful eyes of his, “You didn’t answer any of the questions, Raf. What are you hiding?”
“Believe it or not, I don’t actually have to answer your questions.” He said, leaning over to where you were sitting at the bar counter.
You then decided to press your luck even more, “So if Lemurians supposedly cry pearls, is their cum like pearlescent or something else entirely?” You watched as Rafayel’s cheeks took on a rosy hue and you barked out a laugh, “Oh that reaction tells me everything! So it’s not like humans!”
Rafayel groaned, covering his face with his hands and shook his head, “Why do you want to know about Lemurian…cum…I hate that I even have to ask that.” Rafayel said as he gave you a disappointed glance.
“It’s just a question, now I have more.” You said as you stood up from your stool, “Do Lemurians ever enter heats or ruts? Would Ebb Day be considered one of those because that day you were kinda…” You thought back to Ebb Day. He had looked so damn good with his scales and the slight sheen of sweat. If only he wasn’t so damn delirious that day you might’ve made a move to pursue something more with him.
“I was kinda…?” Rafayel said before stopping himself, “Wait, hold it, bite your tongue, I don’t think I want to know what’s going through that head of yours. I think we’re done with questions for the day.”
You couldn’t help the pout that went on your face, but Rafayel was looking away from you, not daring to make eye contact right now. His cheeks and ears were flush as he picked up his knife and continued cutting up salmon..
You slowly stalked over to him until you were standing right behind Rafayel. He, of course, knew you were there as he scrapped the salmon on top of the lettuce and put the dangerous object into the sink. As soon as he was cleared of any knives that he could stab you with should he break due to your insanity, you tugged on his sleeve.
Rafayel, despite his pouting, let out a sigh. He then moved a bit away from the counter and you didn’t even realize what had happened until you found your back digging into the counter of the kitchen. Rafayel had quickly spun you around and pinned you, both arms locking you in place as he gripped onto the cool marble.
You caught the confident glint in his eyes as he pulled a full 180 from earlier. His cheeks, ears, and chest were still a bit flushed, but he seemed to be in control for the moment, “If you’re that curious, I could always give you a demonstration of Lemurian mating habits.” He finally said.
You were stunned into silence, your mouth hung open and you could feel your cheeks heating up as you looked at Rafayel. Then, after the shock wore off, your entire face lit up at the prospect.
“Wait really? Oh man, I need to grab my notebook. I have so many hypotheses on things that I can’t wait to try out!” You said, placing your hands on his chest, “When are we gonna do this? Now? Later? Now?”
It was Rafayel’s turn to be shocked at your enthusiasm. He was aiming to fluster you like you had done to him; he wasn’t expecting you to want to jump his bones right now. The only thing he could utter was “You have a journal…?”
You nod your head, your hand going over to his neck where you remembered those iridescent blue scales had been. You pressed down slightly at the area and you could feel Rafayel’s pulse jump. You licked your lips at the thought of seeing them again, as well as his tail that he swore up and down he didn’t have until one day he slipped up and admitted to it.
“Of course silly, how else am I gonna know the best ways to unravel you?” You said, your head tilting to the side as you smirked.
You watched as Rafayel managed to turn into a darker shade of red, his mouth opening and closing before his eyes narrowed, “If I had known you were like this, I would’ve been more cautious about letting you into my home.”
“Not only did you let me in, but you gave me a key so I can stop by whenever.” You teased him, “Hopefully I will catch you in a compromised setting one day.”
Rafayel groaned, his hands going to your hips, placing his head over your shoulder, “You’ll be the death of me…” He murmured out before taking a deep breath, “Were you serious though, about uh…”
“Only if your offer is on the table.” You said and Rafayel chuckled, his warm breath fanning over your neck.
“It was supposed to be a joke.” He teased, “But with how excited you got I feel it would be cruel to take the offer back now.”
“It would be so cruel.” You said, your arms going around his shoulders, “Although perhaps we should move things a bit…slower. We can discuss it over lunch?” You said and Rafayel nodded.
“That sounds good.” He said, not moving from his position as he nuzzled his face into your neck “But in a few minutes. I’m comfortable right now.”
Your hand found its way into his purple locks as you gently played with them, “Sounds good to me.”
As promised, here is a post all about British police slang! The police are intrinsically tied to Spider-Man’s story, especially for Hobie as an anarchist arachnid, fascist punching, punk rebel fighting against a corrupt government and police force.
So let’s get started!
My main inspiration for compiling this list is because of how often I’ve read the phrase “bottle and stopper” from Hobie in fics. I thought I could help inform writers about the many options that they might not have known about when it comes to British police slang. And since I’ve seen it used so much, I thought this would be a good place to start!
Bottle and stopper - Cockney rhyming slang for copper/a police officer (as mentioned in my Cockney Rhyming Slang post, here). It’s more commonly shortened to “Bottle” or adapted to “Bluebottle” or “Mr Bluebottle” due to the colour of their uniforms. Also, “bluebottle mob” can be used to mean the police force.
To be perfectly honest, I’d never heard an officer referred to as a bottle and stopper before reading Spider-Verse fanfics, though that’s not to say others don’t use it or that it’s not a good or accurate phrase. I’ve just personally heard most of the following terms used more.
Other slang terms for the police:
Sweeney/Sweeney Todd - Cockney rhyming slang for Flying Squad (the police). The Flying Squad is a branch of the Serious and Organised Crime Command within Londons Metropolitan Police Service. They investigate robberies.
E.g. “Here come the Sweeney!”
Bobby - a police officer. Originating from Sir Robert Peel who established the force in 1829.
E.g. “We had bobbies knocking on our door this morning looking for you.”
Peeler - a police officer. Also originating from Sir Robert Peel.
E.g “Watch out for the peelers.”
Copper - a police officer. Originating from the word “cop” which meant “to capture”, so a copper is someone who captures. I know “cop” is used commonly in America too but I still thought it was worth noting the use of “copper” in the UK.
E.g. “Alright, copper?”
The Bill/The Old Bill- the police. This became a nickname for the Met police after the Great War when it was fashionable to wear one’s moustache like the cartoon soldier character Old Bill, by George Bairnsfather.
E.g. “They won’t talk to the Old Bill but they might talk to you.”
Filth - derogatory slang for the police.
E.g. “Watch out, the filth are behind us.”
Dibble - derogatory slang for a police officer, originating from the character Officer Dibble from the cartoon Top Cat.
E.g. “Good afternoon, Dibble!”
Fuzz - the police. I believe it comes from a mispronunciation of “the force”. Most commonly known from the movie Hot Fuzz.
E.g. “Look, there’s the fuzz!”
Plod/PC Plod - a police officer. Originates from Mr Plod, a police character in books by children’s author Enid Blyton.
E.g. “I was enjoying my day, then PC Plod over here had to go and ruin it!”
Pig - derogatory term for a police officer or informer. It’s a bit unclear about the origins of this word being used to mean police, but some people believe it’s an allusion to early detectives sniffing out crime like pigs with truffles. It could also just be something insulting to call them or perhaps relates to another police slang term, “filth”?
E.g. “There’s pigs crawling all over London.”
Slang words relating to the police or to crime:
Booked/nicked - to be arrested/to get in trouble.
E.g. “They got nicked last night.”
Nick - police station or prison. Also means to steal something.
E.g. “Alex nicked a packet of Monster Much and a bottle of vodka, got nicked and now they’ve spent a night in the nick.”
Grass - a police informer/to tell the police/narc. Originates from the rhyming slang “grasshopper” meaning “copper”. The “grass” or “grasser” tells the “copper”.
E.g. “You grassed me up!” Or “He’s a grass!” Or “Don’t be a grass.”
Dob in - to tell someone about something someone else has done wrong.
E.g. “You dobbed me in to the police!”
Porridge - a prison sentence. Originates from the 1950’s when porridge was a large part of a prisoners diet in Britain.
E.g. “Just do your porridge and keep your head down.” Or “She’s serving porridge.”
And there you go, a selection of British police slang! By no means am I saying that these words are only said in the UK, but these are either very common here or have historical origins in the UK. As mentioned in my Cockney post, I’m not an expert on the subject and I can only speak from one perspective of British culture (white British); there are many cultures and social groups here that may have other slang terms that I either have forgotten about or have never heard of. I’m just sharing the knowledge that I have in the hopes that it will helpful, informative, or at the very least entertaining to someone. And hopefully it’ll help give all you Hobie fanfic writers a new choice of slang vocabulary to pick and choose from!
I might make another post about general British slang words. Let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in or if there’s a specific area that you’d like to know about!
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So, okay, fun fact. When I was a freshman in high school… let me preface by saying my dad sent me to a private school and, like a bad organ transplant, it didn’t take. I was miserable, the student body hated me, I hated them, it was awful.
Okay, so, freshman year, I’m deep in my “everything sucks and I’m stuck with these assholes” mentality. My English teacher was a notorious hard-ass, let’s call him Mr. Hargrove. He was the guy every student prayed they didn’t get. And, on top of ALL OF THE SHIT I WAS ALREADY DEALING WITH, I had him for English.
One of the laborious assignments he gave us was to keep a daily journal. Daily! Not monthly or weekly. Fucking daily. Handwritten. And we had to turn it in every quarter and he fucking graded us. He graded us on a fucking journal.
All of my classmates wrote shit like what they did that day or whatever. But, I did not. No, sir. I decided to give the ol’ middle finger to the assignment and do my own shit.
So, for my daily journal entries, over the course of an entire year, I wrote a serialized story about a horde of man-eating slugs that invaded a small mining town. It was graphic, it was ridiculous, it was an epic feat of rebellion.
And Mr. Hargrove loved it.
It wasn’t just the journal. Every assignment he gave us, I tried to shit all over it. Every reading assignment, everyone gushed about how good it was, but I always had a negative take. Every writing assignment, people wrote boring prose, but I wrote cheesy limericks or pulp horror stories.
Then, one day, he read one of my essays to the class as an example of good writing. When a fellow student asked who wrote it, he said, “Some pipsqueak.”
And that’s when I had a revelation. He wanted to fight. And since all the other students were trying to kiss his ass, I was his only challenger.
Mr. Hargrove and I went head-to-head on every assignment, every conversation, every fucking thing. And he ate it up. And so did I.
One day, he read us a column from the Washington Post and asked the class what was wrong with it. Everyone chimed in with their dumbass takes, but I was the one who landed on Mr. Hargrove’s complaint: The reporter had BRAZENLY added the suffix “ize” to a verb.
That night I wrote a jokey letter to the reporter calling him out on the offense in which I added “ize” to every single verb. I gave it to Mr. Hargrove, who by then had become a friendly adversary, for a chuckle and he SENT IT TO THE REPORTER.
And, people… The reporter wrote back. And he said I was an exceptional student. Mr. Hargrove and I had a giggle about that because we both knew I was just being an asshole, but he and the reporter acknowledged I had a point.
And that was it. That was the moment. Not THAT EXACT moment, but that year with Mr. Hargrove taught me I had a knack for writing. And that knack was based in saying “fuck you” to authority. (The irony that someone in a position of authority helped me realize that is not lost on me.)
So, I can say without qualification that Mr. Hargrove is the reason I am now a professional writer. Yes, I do it for a living. And most of my stuff takes authorities of one kind or another to task.
Mr. Hargrove showed me my dissent was valid, my rebellion was righteous, and that killer slugs could bring a city to its knees. Someone just needs to write it.