callme-secret

[callme-secret]

And They Where Neighbors

TASM Peter Parker x Oc

Plot - peter parker sucks as an upstairs neighbor.

not my best work, but i want to get back into writing so sometimes you just gotta put stuff out. Please leave any helpful comments!

×××××

Suspiciously cheap rent is always suspicious for a reason. Brie knew this. Everyone in New York did, it went without saying. Cheap rent meant rats, or mold, or a creepy landlord that talked a lot. Cheap meant no one else wanted to live there. 

So when Brie found a one bedroom apartment in her budget, walking distance from her school, and with working ac, she knew to be cautious. It even claimed to allow pets. (Normally code for the place came with its own pets already.) She couldn’t imagine what they were trying to sugar code. It must have a bed bug infestation, or it was haunted by a poltergeist. Maybe it was all some elaborate way to kidnap her and sell her into sex trafficking. There had to be a catch.

Brie knew of a million things that cheap meant in New York, but she was desperate. So when she went to tour, she wore a face mask in case the walls did in fact contain the next bubonic plague, and her thickest boots, in case she had to stomp her way past whatever vermin lived there too.

But there was no vermin, or mold. It was actually quite nice?

The landlady, Mrs. Zhang was kind and in her mid forties. She explained that her and her husband owned quite a few buildings, but this was their first one so they felt quite attached to it. They themselves had once lived here when they first moved to New York, and had spent nearly all of their young adulthood living here.

They took good care of the place, made sure to keep up with renovations, and all of the other upkeep. It really did show too. The building looked warm even from the outside. Red brick walls, black rimmed windows, and a navy blue front door, all screamed home. Even the entrance was clean. A tan hallway with a well organized mailroom and a black staircase. There wasn't even a missing floor board.

The apartment itself was even better. Sure the kitchen was small, and the appliances a decade old, but there was a big window in the bedroom with a fire escape right beside it, and enough space to fit her desk. There was nothing growing in the pipes, no sign of rodents or bugs. It was perfect.

“Why is it so cheap?” Way to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Mrs. Zhang pursed her lips. “To be honest with you, we can't seem to keep a tenant for longer than three months and we don’t know why.” 

Okay, first red flag. Apparently three tenets had come and gone in the span of the last year, all without reason and with quick getaways. The weird thing was, this problem only seemed to happen to the one apartment, everyone else in the building had been living there for years now with no incident.

So, Brie reasoned what was life without risk? If no one else had issues maybe it was all some big coincidence.  She and her cat moved in the next week.

And for a while Brie wondered why no one could last longer than three months. As far as she could tell there was no better place to live. Her neighbors were nice, one had even brought her cookies after she moved in. (an older woman named Tony, who smelled like pickled sugar.) She only had to contact Mrs. Zhang once about a flickering light in the hallway and it was fixed within the week, and nothing could beat her commute. What once was a twenty minute subway ride, and a bus ticket, was now a ten minute walk. Brie was actually showing up early to her classes, just to prove she could.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with this apartment. Brie thought she might have actually been in love with the place from how perfect it was. Then the other shoe dropped.

It started small at first, or maybe she just started to notice it slowly. Her upstairs neighbor was a night owl. Not that big of a deal, except for the fact that y/n could hear him at 3 a.m. seemingly breaking into his own apartment. Every night like clock work, he would scale the fire escape like it was his own personal entrance, and struggle with his window. The wood swelled with the summer heat and Brie knew from personal experience it made it nearly impossible to open any window. Yet, her upstairs neighbor forced it open, everytime, before he fell face first into his apartment with the loudest thud possible. Waking her up. Every time.

Even when he was successfully inside, her upstairs neighbor had no idea what keeping it down was. All night he would stay up, eventually she put together he must have been an engineer of some kind. The vents carried broken conversation, mainly curses, but Brie could put together the few words she had. He complained a lot about things not working, and said a lot of math equations that sounded like gibberish in her ears. Either way, his voice filled her apartment, even at the crack of dawn.

There was also the annoying fact that everyone in the building seemed to love him. (Of course they did, they didn’t have to live below him.) Tony raved about the boy upstairs who always helped bring up her groceries. Mrs. Zhang always mentioned how if her husband couldn't make it out, Peter, as everyone referred to him as, never minded helping her fix squeaking door hinges or leaking pipes. Even Mr. Harbinbridge, the grumpy old man that lived on the first floor, liked him! One time he mistook Brie for this Peter. It was the only time she ever saw him smile.

Fine, Peter couldn’t be that bad, just noisy. Brie could live with that. She’s had worse neighbors, even roommates. Then her cat got stuck in the window.

Sir Issac Mewton had never been a skinny boy. Even when Brie first adopted him, the orange tabby cat weighed nearly fifteen pounds. Still, he wasn't fat, he just carried a lot of muscle. At least, that was the mantra Brie repeated in her head.

The mantra died however, when she first saw the ball of wiggling orange fur. Brie had memorized the exact amount of space to leave her window open in order for Mewton to slip through. He liked to explore, and who was she to take that away from him. She wished she took it away from him as she watched him howl from between the window sill. 

So maybe she had notice Mewton putting on some extra pounds, but this was excessive. Brie knew it wasn't from her, he had been explicitly banned from anything that wasn’t his veterinarian approved diet cat food. As far as she knew, that's all he ate.

The investigation lasted less than a minute, before Brie peaked her head out of the window, now lined with orange fur, and spotted what looked to be a bowl on her upstairs neighbors stoop.

This was the last straw. This so-called Peter could be loud at ungodly hours, he could even be annoyingly loved by all, but he could not make her cat fat. This is where she drew the line.

So at 11 p.m. on a Sunday, in her hello kitty pjs, and her untied yellow converse Brie found herself in front of his door. Mewton clutched between her hands as if the feline could do something to protect her from the clearly bad idea forming in her head. Most of the heat she had felt downstairs had smoldered on her walk up. Mainly the idea of how silly she was being.

Brie lived with mewton and knew from experience how persistent the cat could be to get some extra kibble, no doubt he had conned poor upstairs peter into thinking he was a starving stray. The whole complex always raved about how kind of a person he was, he was probably just trying to help. A kind person just doing his best.

Yes, she was being silly. She’ll go back downstairs and try to catch him in the morning. Explain that Mewton was not starving and actually is on a weight loss journey. Brie was sure Peter would understand.

And then, Sir Issac Mewton, the traitor he was, meowed. Loudly.

The shuffling of feet behind the door made Brie freeze. This looked bad, didn’t it? She was in her pjs for god's sake, how the hell is she gonna explain this one?

Peter opened the door rather quickly, for how late it was. For a beat the pair just looked at each other. Brie thought to herself a few things. One, well at least he was also wearing pjs, though she did not peg him for a pokemon man. Two, of course he was cute. The boy had to be at least 6 '2, with fluffy brown hair, and brown eyes hidden behind cute, in a dorky short of way, glasses. He smiled. Y/n forgot the other things she was thinking about.

“You found my cat!”

She’s going to kill him actually.

“Your cat?” She echoed back, her voice sounding flat in her own ears.

Peter smiled rather sheepishly. “Well I suppose he’s not my cat, I just feed him from time to time,” he reached out to scratch Mewton’s chin. “Poor thing always comes crying, like he hasn’t eaten in days.”

Mewton, still being the traitor he is, started to wiggle in her arms like she hadn’t fed and raised him for nearly five years. If Brie was thinking level headily, she probably would have just blamed her stupid chubby cat. It was him that was manipulating everyone in this corridor right now, but she was not thinking level headily. Months of letting things go had pushed her to a point of no return.

She smacked his hand away from her cat, and glared straight into his stupid brown eyes. “Sir Mewton is not starving. He eats twice a day, with very expensive diet cat food I can only get from the vet’s in midtown, so if you would please stop feeding him!” she should stop there. “And for god sake, do you know people live below you? Have you ever thought once why they can't keep a tenant down stairs? It’s you! And the routinely 3 a.m. fight with your window, or how about the fact that you can’t use a front door? The fire escape is not your own personal entrance Peter! Do you ever think outside of yourself? Christ!”

That was too far, Brie regretted it the second she said it. Especially when the poor boy just looked so confused. But she was a coward, a very angry coward, that turned on her heel and quickly bolted to the staircase. Not without a “He’s not your cat!” shouted over her shoulder.

Mewton meowed rather pathetically in her arms.

Peter Parker stood, rather dumb folded, and admittedly rather confused in his doorway. The smallest "sorry" leaving his lips before he could even fully process her steps receding down the stairs.

[callme-secret]

WIKIPEDIA MONSTER COMPILATION PAGES FOR PEOPLE

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cryptids

‘fearsome critters’

angels

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creatures that pretend to be human

a page on therianthropic creatures

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a page of mythology page links

a section of folklore page links

flying creatures

theological demons

fictional species lists

mythology related lists

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[callme-secret]

Careful, I'm getting that feeling again.

Like I could cut everyone off and live in the forest.

I think I'd miss you though.

[callme-secret]

high tide (came and brought you in) - chapter one.

summary: you’d originally rescued the injured merman out of kindness, and perhaps a healthy undercurrent of fear of what others in your town might do to the creature. the last thing you ever expected after returning him to the sea, was for him to try to stay.

tags: afab reader, merfolk, mention of explicitly-inhumane fishing practices.

this fic is a part of the teahouse collab, on discord!

A hunting party had left port, yesterday.

It was made up of the usual kind of tourist, you gathered, overhearing the neighborhood gossip on the sandy, well-trodden path into town. It was made up of a bunch of trigger-happy business students, likely bored with another year of academia and looking for something visceral. Looking to harm in a way that was sanctioned— even celebrated, in some corners of your seaside town. Doubtlessly, they were after the biggest creatures they could catch: sharks, dolphins, or something even more dangerous. Most of those you passed seem to believe that they’d be headed to the outer reefs.

This year, the annual merfolk migration had come early. You had heard through the grapevine that some of the offshore boats had begun to radio in with the usual signs: faulty sonar, empty traps and a general sense of unease, the closer they got to the outer-lying reefs, where multitudes of traveling pods made their temporary homes. Anyone with sense usually knew to stay far away from merfolk-territory, no matter how temporary their stay.

But now that that the sudden departure of the town’s gaudiest fishermen had combined with this news, it was collectively generating more rumor than Baralou Island had handled in months. As the path transitioned to craggy, uneven sidewalk, you still heard people on their porches, gossiping about what could’ve drawn the group’s attention so suddenly. Perhaps it was one of the cartload of technological additions that they’d constantly been wheeling up onto the sleek convertible boat they’d rented. You’d already had to duck through their large group by the harbor yesterday, and through the small crowds that had gathered to see what the fuss was about.

One of their number had been particularly boastful, perched at the top of the gangplank. His cerulean hair almost blinding in the sun, you’d heard him claim that he possessed the skill to capture merfolk— “I could snag a whole pod, in a single net!” — Anywhere else, those statements would’ve warned a call to the coast guard, if not the police. On Baralou, however, it was met with scattered applause and a single wolf-whistle.

Anti-merfolk sentiment always reached a peak in the summertime. The reason always varied: a lesser catch of fish that year, an increase in hurricane warnings. Merfolk— intelligent, powerful and little-understood— made the perfect scapegoats. With the early arrival of their annual migration, it was the opinion of some locals that the large pods passing through the reefs of the island were choking out the tourism industry. Never mind the fact that it was barely the start of summer, and the migration never lasted longer than a month. Nothing got people riled up like the notion of losing out on their most important source of income.

As a former resident, you knew that Baralou took great, and often dubiously-legal pains to advertise itself as having the “safest beaches in the world.” Entire books recounted years worth of fishing competitions with consistently high numbers of so-called “incidental harm” to merfolk. When taking these years’ worth of torment and fear tactics into account, it was little wonder that no mer would dare cross the reefs near the island, these days.

As a teenager, you too had sworn you would never come back to the island again— though this was more to do with Baralou’s pitifully-tiny size outside of tourist season, and the maddening frustration of growing up amongst the same faces you’d seen since nursery school. Nearing the end of your college career has reignited that passion to stay away— but unfortunately, your budget wasn’t quite in agreement with those plans. A summer of housesitting for your aunt and uncle, as well as your waitstaff position at one of Baralou’s many dockside restaurants would ideally give you enough to leave for good, come the fall.

Although you could barely wait to repack your overflowing suitcases, your first weeks back home had reminded you that not everything here was abjectly awful. Your expression lightened once you’d ordered from your usual café, turning to find an outside table already occupied with your favorite resident.

Camie Utshushimi wasted no time in shattering your hopes for normalcy.

“I heard—“ she began in a low voice, as you seated yourself, “—that somebody on the south-side offered to guide the business yuppies to a huge mer pod.”

You exhaled your disapproval over a warm mug of tea.

“That’s gotta be a scam. Even if they wanted to go out there, those reefs are nationally-protected. The fines alone would keep anybody away.”

“Babes, you know as well as I do that won’t stop them.”

“Even if they make it—” you retorted, “—I highly doubt a mer from these parts would be so easily caught, especially by that group.”

Camie at least seemed to take that point into consideration, a brief smile playing at her lips. She took a slow sip of coffee, her warm brown eyes pensively scanning the water.

“If anything, they’ll snag a nesting sea turtle, or a manatee that got washed in by mistake. The poor thing.” still you frowned, considering, “I hope they come back with nothing. But with all that fancy gear…”

This seemed to shake Camie out of her reverie, turning from the sea with a dismissive click of her tongue.

“Nah, Inasa already gave me the deets— that’s all rented. Fat chance they know how to use all of it.”

“Are you sure?” your lower lip worried anxiously, under your teeth.

Despite her agreeable chirp, you knew by the actual look in her eyes that she couldn’t be fully certain. You both finished your drinks in uneasy silence.

Camie was always amongst the island’s earliest risers, which meshed well with you. Shame that she had a social calendar more tightly packed than a visiting royal— she was never available in the evenings, no matter how many nights you tried to invite her to join you at the beach bars. Regardless, she was your closest friend on the island, and if these short moments outside the cobblestone cafe were what you had with her each morning, it was something you were grateful for.

On your way home, you cut back through the fishing harbor— at least, until you were stopped by a growing crowd. You couldn’t make out what was going on amongst their fluctuating number, but with everyone talking and the piercing beep of a large convertible boat backing in along the docks, you could only assume the town’s ‘conquering heroes’ had finally returned. Disgusted, you gave up your gawking and diverted to walk along the craggy shoreline for the last half-mile, back towards your borrowed home.

Most beachgoers preferred the island’s largest offerings, located just outside the shopping district at the other end of the island. These days, you preferred this semi-deserted spit of sand, despite the high tide forcing you to walk through the shallows for most of the way home.

Your weak earbuds were cranked to the max, but still did little against the crash of the waves. Slowly, you picked your way through a bed of oyster shells— even if any accidental cuts would be soothed in an instant, once the saltwater raced over your feet, again. At last, you reached the end of the shell bed, picking up the pace as the wind pushed insistently at you, spraying sand into your face and forcing you to stop, until it calmed.

Your podcast faded to ringing static in your ears when you spotted the torn fishing net, lying ahead.

Its edges had gouged deep into the sand— and, as it was so close to the shoreline itself, the waves that followed had buried them under more silt, throughly entrapping it. It was doubtlessly lost from the harbor. Was that the source of the commotion you’d missed? But, more horrifying than its condition (so tangled up on itself that it resembled a massive bunch of seaweed) or location, far from the fishing harbor, was the fact that it was moving.

Fear coursed through your veins. You needed to call some kind of authority. There should be a phone number at the prior beach access for the wildlife conservatory, if you could just get back to it. You’d have to go back over the oyster bed, but if something was still alive in that monstrosity, there wasn’t much choice to make. You’d taken all of two steps back, preparing yourself for the pain, when an odd sound rose in the lull of the tide. You tore out your cheap earbuds and strained to listen.

The sound that followed defied explanation. You’d never heard anything close to it. The only comparative experience you could draw from was mourning. A harsh, desperate cry, from something that was quite literally on its last hope.

The next thing you knew, your hands were plunging into damp tangles of rope. You cursed as it slid from your hands, as you first tried to wrench it apart, and then upwards— but of course, its moorings were stuck fast. It vaguely occurred that you had absolutely no idea what you were attempting to unearth, but the thought was quickly forgotten. Whatever this was, you could hear breathing from within the mass— shaky, ragged, and quick. You didn’t have much time.

And so, you turned instead to the edges themselves. You plunged your hands into the wet sand and dug as fast as you could. Fortunately, the fasteners weren’t buried too deeply. It didn’t take long for you to pry one up, and then another, the raspy catch of breathing serving as an inefficient and rapidly-dwindling timer. Your fingers burned. Your arms ached. And yet, you continued to tear at the bindings, tugging at the base of the netting until you could finally start to pry up a corner.

You‘a heard of hysterical strength before, but you’d never truly acknowledged the sensation until the soaked, dripping netting was held high above your head. Very quickly, those considerations vanished entirely at the sight of the form underneath.

A pair of bright dichromatic eyes blinked at you through the gloom. The moment would be almost ethereal, if their owner wasn’t literally heaving for breath, both arms stuck akimbo in the holes of the netting. You gave voice to the only thought that actually made sense in this situation.

“…What the hell…?”

Your arms burned from the sopping weight of the net. Water and damp pieces of seaweed were falling on the both of you. With a grunt of effort, you finally stepped forward and chucked the excess portion backwards, before you immediately knelt to loosen the remaining bindings.

The man— not human, not fully, your brain warned— almost immediately began to thrash, displacing a spray of water between you as the tide came in. You bit back a yelp, but repressed the urge to flinch, caught up by the look on his face.

Whatever he was or wasn’t, you knew he was afraid.

You couldn’t be sure if he would understand, as you raised your hands, palms out. Was there really such a thing as a universal sight of surrender? Although your next movement forward earned a flash of sharp teeth, he didn’t move against you. With that, your hands returned to the net, and you set to work untangling it from his body.

You stared down at your hands as you worked, pulse thrumming in your ears. Outside of them, you couldn’t feel anything, outside the numbing sting of adrenaline. Because of that, your motor control was tenuous at best— all you could do was continue working at the net. Heart in your mouth, you snuck another glance up, to confirm your suspicions. Sharp teeth. Bright eyes. Fins, twitching and alert, where ears would be.

If anyone else happened upon your rescue of a beached merman, you would be in very serious trouble.

You re-doubled your efforts, trying to get him loose, wishing that you’d somehow had the foresight to grab something sharp—

—oh, wait.

“Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow—!”

One painstaking pick-over of the oyster graveyard later and you had yourself a prime specimen. You’d exchanged a fair bit of blood to the sand, but that was neither here nor there. You half-ran, half-limped back to the fallen net, makeshift tool held high and set to work, ignoring the latest attempt to swipe at you. This particular shell had sliced open the ball of your foot, so, soon enough, it had started a tear into the tangled net.

The merman didn’t seem to appreciate your ingenuity. You’d barely gotten his right arm free before he was using it to grab onto yours, tugging you forwards as his other, bound arm tried to gesture to his throat.

“Wait—!” you panicked at the strength of his grip, “I’m getting your other arm out, just breathe—!”

A feeling like ice water ran down your spine.

“….Can’t…”

“You ca—?” you’d barely gotten through the repetition before you saw the small slits in his throat, gaping and closing frantically.

You had no idea how long the mer had been breathing above-water, but those rattling wheezes sounded like he was reaching his limit.

“Oh, shit— hold on!”

You cut through the last binding of his left arm and began to feverishly hack away at the snarled mass behind him. It wasn’t long before the shimmer of scales became apparent through the remaining bindings. You couldn’t think much about the full magnitude of what all you had uncovered— how could he speak? — because the merman in question could barely breathe at all. The small gasps of air he managed to draw seemed more like hiccups.

With no time to spare, you dragged whatever remained of the net backwards, wincing as a massive number of koi-like scales were caught and sloughed off in your haste. Supposedly the merman would sooner be alive than care about the finer details of his appearance.

The net had barely dropped before his powerful tail slammed down into the surface of the wet sand— sending fragments of it splashing back over you. You took a few steps back as the merman— tail uselessly trying to propel him forwards— was forced to use an approximation of an army-crawl to get towards the shallows.

Without the snarled ropes in the way, you only saw the injuries left behind. A multitude of bruising and deep scratches marred his back, some still sluggishly-bleeding. There was a long gouge of scales missing on his left flank, revealing the smooth muscle of his tail which seemed to share the unique dichromatic coloring of the rest of him. A few pairs of dorsal fins twitched valiantly as he tried to propel himself forwards.

Finally, the merman made it to the sea. It was easier going from there, especially after he’d managed to fully submerge his head and neck underwater. He stayed for a long moment, doubtlessly drinking in the relief of oxygen that he could fully process. But no mer would ever want to stay this close to Baralou’s shore. As he sank into the shallows, you expected him to tear off, instantly.

Instead, he broke the surface again, split hair tumbling over his broad shoulders, before another of those indecipherable sounds carried itself over the shush of the incoming tide, back to you. This one sounded like a challenge. He’d fought his way through whatever hell had gotten him trapped in that netting, suffered through a slow asphyxiation and crawled himself back to the sea. He’d very nearly been killed. But now, he seemed to dare the land and anyone living there to try it, again.

Caught in the early-morning rays, he was the most breathtaking creature you had ever seen.

In spite of the sentiments, the posted warnings, and the merman’s borderline war-cry, you made your way back down the sand and into the shallows. The merman had vanished far into the deeper waters by then. You doubted he’d return for such a silly reason. And yet….

A few small tide-pools were receding beneath the tangles of net you’d torn away. You knelt and began to dig through their broken coils, to extract as many of the curved, glimmering scales as you could. They were ivory, with splashes of wine red, each one with its own unique pattern. Perhaps, like snakeskin, a mer’s scales were destined to be shed. Still, you felt like they had to serve some purpose.

Once you’d gathered up as many as you could carry, you made your way down the shore, following the shallow trench that his tail had left. You went along it, into the sea, out until it lapped up over your kneecaps, where the merman had first shoved his face underwater, and then you went a bit further, just for good measure. It would be nothing but bad news to have these wash back up, after all.

There, you lowered your hands, and let the scales slip through, to the ocean floor. Even if the merman didn’t come back, perhaps the currents would be kind enough to return at least some of them back where they belonged. With one final glance outwards, you took your leave, walking determinedly towards the shore, even as the ocean’s receding current pulled enticingly, trying to lure you to follow, into its depths.

[callme-secret]

Shut up Ao3 and let me do it again God damit

[callme-secret]

Unbeknownst to Sirius Black, his brother did not go out it agony and anger, but in peace and relief. Regulus Black let the waves drag him in, he let the infirni scratch at his skin and tug at his clothes and he did not fight back. He did not feel fear as the water began to burn his lungs, and eyes. He did not flinch when the bubbles slowly stopped flowing from his lips. All his worries melted as he sank lower and lower. The locket was safe, Kretcher would destroy it. The Dark Lord was one step closer to defeat.

More importantly, his brother would be taken care of. He had no doubt the Remus and James would take care of him, love him, and help him. He wouldnt be alone, not ever again. Sirius Black was safe, and that's all Regulus could have ever wanted.

[callme-secret]

I was not written by a woman.

I was written by a thirteen year old who gave their OC trauma instead of a personality

[callme-secret]

Spider-Dad

Part 1 : The Origin

NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

A (TASM) DAD!Peter Parker x Daughter!Reader

Plot : (Y/N) May Parker has been Spiderman for a total of two years. She learned to expect the unexpected, but seeing her dead dad in another dimension? That's too much even for her.

Warnings : swearing, angst, teen angst like reader is litterly kind if a brat but I love her, character death

A/N : did I promise a uncle Regulus fic? Yes. Did I also say I was writing a soulmate au for Peter parker as well? Yeah. But this was finished first and its cute, so this is what you get. Also this a three parter, this is just the readers origin story, Peter doesn't even make an actual appearance until the way end.

: edited :

(Y/n) May Parker had a good childhood for the most part. Honestly she had everything she could've ever needed, and more. Her parents and her lived in a tiny town house just on the outskirts of Brooklyn, and even though it was small every square inch was filled with happy memories. Even the street they lived on were filled with memories. Their neighbors luckily had a young boy around (Y/n)'s age, that quickly became her best friend. The two had created stories and worlds entirely from the steps of their homes. She couldn't walk two feet outside of her house without being reminded of something stupid and funny she had done at that same spot. How could she ask for anything more?

Her parents where top scientists at Oscorp. A job that kept them busy alot, but they still made time for (Y/N), making sure to take every Tuesday off to have a day with her. Both of them worked on biochemistry that could possibly change the medical field. If they succeeded people could regrow limbs, and expand the life expectancy. Her mom, Gwen Parker, worked with lizards, while her dad, Peter Parker, worked with spiders.

Apparently her grandad also worked with spiders before he went missing. Peter had picked off where he left off, continuing the experiments and research. Although he hadn't made nearly as much progress as he hoped. He still told his daughter about every improvemnt or revelation, and (Y/N) absorbed every word. She was utterly fascinated with her father's work.

She used to listen to him talk about it for hours. Dinners, mornings, during bed time stories, the two would always talk about his latest breakthrough. The young girl never even bored by the big words and long math problems, always listening with her full attention. She'd ask questions that would send Peter off into a tangent, before they where both shushed and sent of too bed.

It got to the point where her mother had given the two nicknames for their bug obsession. Originally it was meant to make fun of of the two, but of course they quickly grew attached to the names. Peter had been dubbed spiderman by the two Parker girls. Pretty quickly dad was forgotten form (y/n)'s vocabulary, spiderman quickly taking its place. Many a teachers where very confused when one of their students kepts drawing a man in a red mask and a lab cost instead of their dad. Peter, in turn, did the same thing, never once calling her by the name him and Gwen had spent hours picking out, but instead Spiderling. Pretty quickly everyone began calling her Spiderling, from her mom to Aunt May.

Even her best friend, Miles Morales, called her Spiderling. Though the nickname was strictly reserved for family, he was the only exception. (despite Peter's arguments) Soon, (Y/N)'s true name was hardly ever spoken, and she couldn't be happier.

All in all her childhood was great, she didn't have one thing she would change.

Until Peter Parker was found shot in an alley.

The cops didn't have any awnsers. Nothing was stolen. He still had his wallet when he was found, so it wasn't a mugging. Any suspect they had, had an alibi, and there was no witness. No one knew what happened that night, and the police had no leads. There wasn't even a person who would speak bad about Peter B. Parker, let alone kill him. So they closed the case. Left it to rot in a folder, on a shelf, with the rest of the dead ends.

(Y/N) had never seen her mother cry until that day. Rarely if ever, had Gwen Parker cried in front of her daughter. It was a pride thing, she wanted her to think that she was strong, that she was unbeatable, but this? This was too much, she couldn't pretend with this. (Y/N) had never even see her mother flinch, and yet, there she was. Sobbing like her chest was about to cave in. It broke her heart to see her mom like that.

For a while the world felt a little grey, and the name spiderman was never spoken again in the Parker house.

Science fairs, spelling bees, decathlons, anything that would distance herself from the depressing idea of her dad. During this time, Miles and her had never been more close. Luckily the two had been given scholarships to the same school, and had spent nearly every day together. Where one was, the other wasn't far behind. Homework, school dances, first dates, they did everything together. His family became hers, and vice versa.

It took a while for things to get back to normal, but pretty soon (Y/N) started middle school. All wallowing and self pity left behind, so she could foucs on classes and school drama. She didn't want to be known as the girl with the dead dad, so she did everything she could to distract herself from it. Pretended like nothing had ever happened.

If her mom had to spend a late night at work, or go somewhere for business, (Y/N) was always entrusted to the care of the Morales Family. The families spent holidays together, and even had a designated night once a month to have dinner together. The two even had spare clothes at each others houses incase of an impromptu sleep over. Truly, if the dictionary had pictures, (Y/N) was sure Miles smiling face would be right beside the definition of Best friend.

She told him everything, and he did the same.

After her dad died, (Y/N) and her mom had unintentionally been avoiding May. She was just too much of a reminder. The way she laughed, the way she spoke, even how she would saw her name, it was all the exact way he used to. Even May's house was a reminder. All of her dads things had been hidden in the attic at her house, but May kept everything out. His highschool diploma, his wedding photo, even his briefcase sat by the door as if waiting for him to come back and take it to work.

On one of the rare times Miles family had plans out of town, and Gwen had a business trip to somewhere in Washington dc, (Y/N) was left with her great aunt May. Aunt May had always been a constant in her life, something she was sure her dad was glad for. May did everything her parents couldn't, she baked all of (Y/N)s birthday cakes, taught her to ride a bike, and spent hours teaching her how to sew. Truly she was the best grandmother anyone could ask for, even if she wasn't actually her grandma.

Which is why it hurt so much to see her.

Worst of all, (Y/N) had been given his old bed room to sleep in. A time capsule of Peter Parker from his highschool days, everything left untouched. It all hurt to look at, but she couldn't tell her aunt that. It would break the woman's heart to know she was hurting (Y/N), and that was the last thing she'd ever want to do.

So (Y/N) sucked it up. It was only three days anyways, she could handle three days. She could ignore it for that long. Atleast that's what she told herself.

Besides it was kind of interesting to see was her dad was into back then. Though it seemed all that he had left behind where Coldplay CDs, and forgotten science projects, she still found joy in the little things he's left behind. It was when she decided to go through his brief case that everything went to shit.

It was the basic stuff really, chemical equations, a calculator, his glasses. Glasses that she quickly slipped onto her face, they where slightly to big and kept slipping down the brige of her nose but she didnt mind. When she looked in the mirror, for a secound she could convince herself it wasn't her reflection, but her dad staring back at her.

The only other thing in the brief case was a live spider. It was stuck in a sealed vial, and it looked as if to be glaring at her. (Not that she minded, she would also be pissed to be left in a vial and forgotten.) Putting it to the side, (Y/N) decided to release it later.

She tried to read his notes, though it was hard. She was top of her class at one of the best school in New York, but even then she was still just a sixth grader. Words that where hard to understand where overshadowed by poorly drawn spiders scribbled in the margins of his notes, a fact that made her smile.

She was tracing her finger over one of her dads doodles when she felt a sharp pang on the back of her neck. Slapping the spot with out hesitation, (Y/N) was surprised to see the remains of the spider squished onto her palm. Somehow it had to of escaped when she had set it down, though how It manged to climb up to her neck so fast was beyond her.

"Dinner time!" May shouted, effectively distracting (Y/N) from her thoughts.

"Coming!" She yelled back, jumping from her spot and rushing out of her Dads old room, all question about the now dead spider quickly forgotten.

The next morning was a utter chaos. (Y/N) had woken up to her dads 50 year old alarm clock blaring unholy loud screams. When she went to shut it off, it smashed to pieces beneath her fingertips. Something she was quick to pass as old things break easy.

Only it countied to happen. She broke the closet door off its hinges when she went to steal one of Peter's old hoodies. The nob to the bathroom facet popped off it her hands, effectively spraying water everywhere until she manged to force it back on. It happened to often for her to act as if it was all a coincidence.

When May drove her to school, (Y/N) made it a point to sit as still as possible and touch everything with the lightest pressure. She wouldn't even breathe to heavy in fear of breaking something. As soon as May came to a stop, she hopped out, nothing but a "see you soon" slipping from her lips before she accidentally slammed the door. Apparently she was still using to much strength.

She made it nearly three steps before someone fell into place by her side. Miles grinned at her, rapping his arm around her shoulder with out even a thought. "Hey Parker, how's your morning going?" He asked, never once looking away from her.

She stared back at him, her eyes wide. "I'm pretty sure I'm on drugs."

"Wait what?"

"Either that or I became superman over night."

Not an ideal situation, (y/n) realized. Even without the fear of accidently lodging a dodge ball into the sun, (Y/N) hated gym class. The uniforms where old and itchy, the teacher slightly greasy, and worst of all Flash Thompson Jr. was in this class. His dad had tortured hers in highschool, and it seemed he wanted to keep up the tradition.

"What are you talking about?" Miles questioned, but before she could awnser the bell rang. Glaring at the disruption, he pointed a finger in her direction and said; "this conversation is not over with. You need to explain why you're being so weird. Werider than normal." And that was it. The two rushed off to their first class of the day, there conversation reserved for a later time.

Unfortunately, their first class of the day happened to be Gym.

"Hey Parker." He sneered at her, a foam ball bouncing between his two hands. "The game today is dodgeball, you know what that means."

Before she could even respond, Miles was right beside her. "Screw off Flash, why don't you go play soccor with your head again."

"Mind your business Miles, I wasn't talking to you." Flash shot back, stepping closer to get in Miles face.

Huffing out a sigh, (Y/N) shoved him, with what she thought was going to be a gentle shove, but ended up with Flash on the floor. Deciding not to acknowledge this, she barked out; "now is not the day to mess with me, so screw off."

"Morales! Thompson! Parker! Break it up and get to your teams!" The teacher shouted, blowing his whistle to enforce his statement.

If looks could kill, (Y/N) was sure she'd already have a plot next to her dad's, but they couldn't. Flash could do nothing but glare daggers at her, and throw as many high-speed foam balls at her as he could.

This time was no different. Making a point to send her a wink and a smile, Flash reared back and threw the red foam ball with a power that was scary to be found in a twelve year old boy. (Y/N) closed her eyes, and waited for the impact.

At the first sound of the whistle, her teammates started to drop like flies. Miles was out almost instantly, Flash having chucked a ball so hard into his stomache he kneeled over in pain. Another classmate had his glasses snap in half when a stray ball had smacked him right in the face. Someone else was already nursing what (Y/N) was sure to be a mild concussion.

Eventually she was the only one on her team left, a fact she was expecting. This was one of Flash's favorite ways to humiliate her, having the whole class watch as he threw ball after ball at the poor girl.

One that never came. When she finally opened her eyes the gym was quiet. She had caught the ball. She had moved without knowing, had snatched the ball with one hand without looking. This was new.

Flash didn't waste much time, staring to launch ball after ball.

(Y/N) dodged every one, ducking and swerving out of the way. When he sent one towards her legs she even manged to jump over it, tucking her legs to her chest and hopping over it like nothing. Finally, he only had one ball left.

"I don't know what's up with you Parker, but it won't last."

(Y/n) held her arms wide open. With a new sense of confidence, she smirked. "Come at me flash, I'm an open target."

He let out a frustrated groan, and with all his strength chucked his last ball.

The class fell silent. A hit from a ball like that would usually send a kid to the nurses office. It had before, but (y/n) was still standing. She was still standing with a yellow ball gripped harshly in her hands. She had caught it again, this time though she wasnt going to wait for him to attack again. Not an ounce of hesitation in her movement, (y/n) aimed the ball right back at Flash.

The room was so quiet that everyone heard the smack of the ball making contact with Flash Thompson Jr's face. A sickening sound that made (Y/N)s stomache turn. Everyone was frozen. The room eerily silent.

It wasn't tell Flash's nose started to bleed that people finally began to react. Two girls rushed to take him to the nurse, everyone else simply laughing at the way the boy stumbled. Eventually they all started to gather the balls for another round, quiet giggles still ringing out every once in awhile.

It didn't take long for Miles to find his right full spot by her side. "How did you do that."

Looking up at him she let out a short laugh. "I don't know, but it felt good."

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and before she knew it, her and Miles where walking home. It was a normal part of her daily routine, but normally their conversations where filled with video games and the latest oscorp inventions, not her sudden appearance of superpowers.

"So, so far we've noticed you have super strength, better agility, and have heighten senses anything else?" Miles asked, a mild disbelief in his voice.

Laughing at his face, (y/n) shook her head. "Not that I know of."

"Oh my god." Miles stared in awe. "this is by far the coolest thing you've ever done. Do you know what this means?"

"I'm a freak of nature?"

"No! You're a superhero!"

Shaking her head, (Y/N) was quick to deny this. "I'm not a superhero Miles, I'm a middle schooler."

"You could be! Do you know how many people you can help with these powers?" He explained. They had made their way to his house by now, and where quick to find their regular spots in his Kitchen, rummaging for food. "You could change New York! Who would want to commit crime when there was an ass kicking badass out there!"

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. "Did you really have to say ass twice."

"You're not listening!"

Stacking Tupperware container after another, (y/n) stepping away from Miles fridge with her hands full of leftovers. An unholy amount of food being placed on the contour. "I am listening, but be realistic, superheros aren't real. Plus how would I keep up with school, and be a vigilante?"

Miles watched as his friend kept pulling more food from the pantry. "Are you really that hungry?" When she nodded a little to enthusiastically he moved on. "I could help! Be your guy in the chair!"

"Miles the awnser is no. Now, are we going to play Dance Monster Dance, or are we going to talk about the logistics of my already failed hero career?"

"I'll set up my Xstation."

"That's what I thought."

Before either of them noticed four hours had already passed and it was 8 o'clock. Rio, Miles mom, offered for (Y/N) to stay for dinner, but her mom should have already been home by now so she politely declined. Miles made sure to follow her out.

"Make sure you call me if you figure anything else out." He said in a hushed wishper.

Letting out an amused giggle, (Y/N) agreed. "Alright Miles, you'll be the first and only person I call, as always." Her words seemed to appease him, as he finally let her leave.

Something was wrong. Majorly wrong.

(Y/N) knew something was worng before she even made it home. A tingle like sensation breaking out across the base of her skull warning her of upcoming danger. She tried to ignore it of course, until she notice every light in her house was on.

Her mom had always been a stickler for turning off the lights when you left the room, had engraved the rule into (y/n)s head since she was a kid. There was no way her mom would forget this. Even stranger, when she went to enter her home, she found the front door slightly ajar, her mother's keys still in the lock.

She would have went to call the police, wouldn't even had taught about entering a dangerous situation, until she head her mother whimper. Gwen Parker did not whimper, not even when Peter died. The sound made white hot rage fill (Y/N)s veins, and suddenly she was barging through the door.

Two men where standing in her living room, surrounding her mother who was blind foled and tied to a chair, a sock shoved into her mouth and headphones covering her ears. The men seemed to be shoving some of their valuables into duffel bags, and working fast.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The men turned at the sound of her voice, allowing her to get a better look. Of course they looked like cartoonish bak robbers, ski masks and all. Of course they had a gun aswell, to complete the look. "Are you that stupid? You need to rob homes to get by? You can't get a normal job?"

"Watch your mouth kid, or mommy gets it." One of them said, holding the gun to Gwen's head. "Now, just let us finish up here, and we'll be on our way."

(Y/N) laughed. "Yeah sure, I'll just let you rob my house, brilliant idea dumbass." Apparently her insults got to one of them, as he rushed at her without much thought. Just what she wanted. As soon as his arm was in distance of her, she latched onto it. Forcing his body forward, she twisted his arm up until he started to shout in pain. "Drop the gun or your buddy loses an arm."

The man didn't listen, instead also charging her. Pushing the one in her hands forward, the two crashed into each other, causing them to lose his grip on the pistol. When it hit the floor, (Y/N) kicked it across the room, far away from her and the two men.

One of the men managed to get behind her, trapping her in between his arms. Swinging her body upwards, she managed to flip around the man, causing him to fall to the floor. His buddy was right beside him, already throwing punches at the girl without much thoughts. (Y/N) dogdged almost all of them, only two making contact with her cheek and stomache.

Having enough with his games, she socked him right in the nose like her dad had taught her too. Both men had crumpled to the floor, bloody and out of it. (Y/N) made sure to zip tie their hands together, before she released her mom.

"Mom? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She asked, quickly checking for any damage.

Her mom just shook, eyes wide. "Did you- did you do this?"

Watching the fear in Gwen's face caused (y/N)'s heart to break. Her mom couldn't know, she would die if she knew her daughter could do this. So she shook her head. "No, they where like this when I got here. I'll call the police."

The police showed up not twenty minutes later. They took the two men and asked both her and her mom questions. "Who captured them?" and "is anything missing?" Being the most common two. When they got everything they needed they left.

Gwen had gone to bed. The adrenaline had finally drained from her body, and she needed to crash so (Y/N) was left to her own devices. Miles number was dialed before she even properly thought it through.

"Miles? You where right. Let's do the hero thing."

And spiderling was born.

Well not over night. It took them nearly three months to perfect the web fluid formula, and a total of seven costumes before they found one that both allowed (Y/N) as much movement that she needed and was durable. Eventually she had sewed together a red and white suit that quickly became New Yorks greatest hero.

She started with small crimes initially. Muggers, car theifs, petty fights, but as time went on she had to up the ante. Bank robbers, home invasions, even gang related crimes. As the years went on the crime just got worse. To the point where she was now fighting super powered bad guys on the daily.

She was an eighth grader now, and had taken on a lizard man, a shapshifing bank robber, and best of all an alien from outer space that was eating people. Not what she had expected from her middle school career.

Miles had kept his promise, and was in fact her guy in the chair. He listened to the police radio and told her of any place she needed to be. He even made regular updates to her suit, adding in a ear piece, extra webbing space, and best of all he had wired her mask to adjust to her vision.

Truthfully, (Y/N) didn't know if she could do it without him.

It helped knowing atleast someone knew her secret. If things ever went bad, she could trust Miles to explain everything to her mom and May, and that's all she needed.

(Y/N) was almost bored with everything. It had all become so predictable, and then she was sucked into another dimension. Another world where Spiderling didn't exist and Spiderman did.

Admittingly she should have been more worried. One moment she's fighting Black Cat, the next she's in an alley, somewhere in Queens. Why the hell was she in Queens? But none of that really bothered her.

Gathering her bearings, (Y/N) was glad she atleast had her backpack. She had food, a change of clothes, even a few cartridges of extra web fluid, but no way home.

She was the daughter of two brilliant scientists, string theory and multi dimensional ideals weren't beyond her. What was odd, was the question of why she was transported. Dimensional jumps wouldn't even be a thought for atleast another three decades, yet here she was. It couldn't be possible she was the only one taken, there had to be others, right?

Any attempts to call Miles where met with static. For a secound, she worried about how scared he would he when she didn't awnser his calls, or how he would explain it to her mom when she didn't show up for dinner thay night. Shaking the thoughts from her head, (Y/N) made her way onto the street. She couldn't think about that right now, she needed to focus on getting home.

Thankfully it was night, it would have been heard to explain why a spandex clad teenager was walking around New York to a pedestrian. She was somewhere near Aunt May's place. Did this world have an Aunt May? Or even a (Y/N)?

That didn't matter, she had to remind herself. It wasn't like she was planning on staying here, she just needed a way out. Making sure her mask was on, and her backpack was secure to her shoulders, (Y/N) shot a web at the first building she saw, and she was off.

It didn't take long for her body to fall into its normal rhythm, taking her to her favorite place purely on muscle memory. The Queens Plaza Park loomed over the city like a Titan. It was one of those buildings that (Y/N) had made her own. She would often find herself there when she was in Queens visitng May, or if she had needed a place to hide. It was a relief to find something that she was used to, and pretty soon she found herself at the top.

"Is this your world, or are you lost to?" She finally asked, never once taking her eyes off of him. She trusted her senses, but one could never be to careful.

She wasn't alone. Of course she wasnt alone, that would he too easy.

Someone else was up there, in a suit similar to hers. His however was blue and red, and the symbol on his chest slightly alerted form hers. He had his mask off and his back turned to her when she landed, so the only real distinguishable feature she could see was brown hair that's stuck out of his head like a pineapple.

He had to have sensed her, she knew it. Her spider senses went off every time she looked at him, tingling in the base of her head warning her. Not warning her in the way they would when she was in danger, but in a way that told her he was important in some way. That he was just like her.

He laughed at the question. "I guess you could say I'm lost, but this has to be the-" the world went silent when he turned around, despite the fact that (Y/N) could still see his lips moving.

He looked exactly as she remembered, brown unruly hair that she used to braid and style with cheap butterfly clips, brown eyes that used to grin at her when she told a chessy joke, and a smile that used to make her burnt scrambled eggs when her mom couldn't cook.

Tears had started to fall down her cheeks, emotions she had buried years ago suddenly emerging from deep in her subconscious. She hadn't even processed she was rushing to him until she had caught him in a hug.

: end :

Of course she would see her dad here. After all Peter Parker was known for making the worst entrances.

[callme-secret]

Masterlist

In the works

Harry Potter

Fanfics

Little Star (Uncle!Regulus x Niece!OC)

Coming soon

Headcannons/Images

Sirius Black is Proper Boy

The marauders as memes in my phone pt 1, pt 2

Specific Headcannons for the marauders; Remus, James, Sirius, Peter (ongoing)

Uncle Regulus

Regulus and Sirius duel

Regulus and Quidditch

Fred and Lily

Runaway Sirius

Marvel

Fanfics

Spider-Dad (TASM dad!Peter Parker x daughter!reader) Part Two, Part Three (currency being edited)

(Y/N) May Parker has finally gotten used to her secret life as Spiderling, the web slinging hero that keeps New York safe. She's even gotten a little bored with it. That is until she's transported to another universe where her dead dad is alive, and well. //Fluff, angst, and swearing//

Platonic Soulmates and Romantic Ones (TASM Peter Parker x Reader soulmate au)

Coming soon.

Headcannons/Images

Morgan Stark has an imaginary friend

[callme-secret]

Sirius Black is a Proper Boy

Sirius Black can play piano. His mother claimed every proper pureblood boy needed a skill like this, she even forced his little brother to play cello. (something poor little Reg was God awful at) So every night after lunch, Sirius would sit at the piano and practice. Straight back, and crunched fingers, eyes slightly blured as he reads the notes, his foot tapping to an imaginary beat. By the age of eight he had all the classics memorized, even the muggle ones, though his mother sneered when he played them. It became a trick at parties, Walburga would force her sons to preform. All her pureblood friends would grin and cheer, and comment about how her boys where so well trained taught.

Sirius Black has beautiful handwriting. Clear cursive, with not even a slant that looks like it could be plucked right from a history book. Not even a comma is out of place when he writes, perfectly elegant words one after another. His mother used to have his write the same line over and over until she was satisfied. He vaguely remembers the time he was forced to miss lunch and dinner when his mother didn't like the way his e's looked.

Sirius Black has a posh accent. He doesn't notice it tell he starts Hogwarts in his first year. James Potter mentions it first. Its meant as a joke, an offhanded comment about how he talk like the queen, but it's true. He always spitting out ma'ams, and sirs like he couldn't stop himself if he tried. He notices that he can't help but be polite when he speaks. Flashes of his mother pinching his under the table when he misspoke breeze past his mind.

Sirius Black has the best table manners. He nows the correct order of forks to use at meals, and makes sure to keep his elbows high but not on the table. He makes polite conversation, the kind he's been taught to make. Nothing serious, his mother would remind him, keep things light at the dinner table.

Sirius Black is fluent in french. The Black family is from France after all. It was practically ingraved in his head before he even fully grasped English yet. Every word perfectly enunciated, without an accent in sight. It's not even a seocund thought when someone asks him a question in french, the words spilling form him before he can even think. His mother spent months making sure he had every word properly learned, the scars on his hands are proof of this.

Sirius Black has perfect posture. Straight like an arrow, never anything else. Even when running, or sitting, or riding his broom, his back is always straight. Walburga used to lash him if she saw even a slight hunch.

Sirius Black is a proper boy, but he finds ways around it. Now he plays muggle rock on the piano, Elton John mainly, but sometimes The Beatles if he feels up to it. He writes in bright bold colored pens, and with a slight lean to his letters now. He uses slang every chance he gets, and the only person he calls ma'am is McGonagall. Sirius Black can not remember the last time he spoke French, of the last time he walked with out a slouch.

Sirius Black was a proper boy, but he's anything but now.

[callme-secret]

Morgan Stark has an Imaginary Friend

SPOLIERS FOR NO WAY HOME!!!!!!

Warnings : angst

Peter Parker image

Morgan Stark has an imaginary friend. At first Pepper thought it was cute, thought it was a good sign her little brain could still come up with happy things after all the bad she'd been through. In an effort to even encourage these childish tendencies she even bought her friend gifts on Christmas and on his birthday. Truthfully, she'd do anything for her daughter to keep the hero she had created in her head alive.

There where a few odd things though.

The way Morgan described him nearly perfectly for one. Pepper herself could imagine the boy simply on her daughter's description. A boy, taller than Pepper but not by much, with long arms and legs. He's lanky and awkward, and stutters when he talks. When he gets nervous he fiddles with his hair, brown and wavy curls that apparently he spends alot of time styling it in the morning. He's strong, like really strong. Stronger than Captain America. (according to Morgan Stark) He has brown eyes too, ones that jump back and forth when he's scared. Morgan always adds that his nose is slightly crooked as well. A weird fact for a seven year old to think of.

She always only talked about him in past tense, like he had died. Only bringing him up in stories, like the time her and him nearly blew up Tony's lab. Or the time, he had apparently singed off his eyebrows in an attempt to make pancakes. All cute stories, but all just memories. A fact that bothered even Happy when he realized.

His name was also strange. Not because he had a weird name, but because it stuck a cord with Pepper Potts. Like her brain was trying to remember something it couldn't, like a piece was missing. It always ended with a nasty headache, and questions she didn't have awnsers too. It's not like it really mattered though, her daughter's imaginary friend wasn't real. And Pepper Potts had never even heard the name Peter Parker until her daughter brought it up.

[callme-secret]

You know how I said I would write Regulus stuff? I lied. I watched no way home, and now I'm writing a spiderman soulmate au. I'm not sorry. (Though I do have regulus stuff stored away, waiting for me to continue it)

[callme-secret]

The marauders and co. as memes I had saved in my phone, pt 2

James

Lily

Remus

Sirius

Peter

Regulus

Marlene

Severus

[callme-secret]

Odly specific things I headcannon for marauders and co. Part 1.

Remus Lupin

-will either drink coffee with 10 scoops of sugar and half a cup of milk, or just black there is no in-between.

-randomly quotes lines form books only he's read

-confuses romantic interest for panic attacks "you don't get it James, I think my hearts I going to explode." "Mate it's just a crush."

-absolutely loathes peanut butter mixed with chocolate, thinks it tastes like feet

-is mildly allergic to dogs, so not only does he get sniffles around Sirius, but he also gets allergies around the full moon.

-introduced the marauders to muggle rock and roll and then instantly regretted it.

-gets weirdly into April fool's day. Like any other day of the year he's chill with his pranks, but on the first of April even Dumbledore keeps an eye out for the young Lupin.

-had a chill emo phase. Like listened to edgy music, painted his nails, thought about piercing his ear for a solid mintue before Sirius had an identity crisis and he had to stop.

-there's a random hufflepuff that uses the hogwarts kitchen to bake. They don't ever talk, but she always leaves him extra treats when she knows he's gonna come to the kitchens

-has a favorite house elf who works at hogwarts. His name is Jonsy, and he absolutely adores Remus.

-cant stand sour food. Will litterly cry if he's given a lemon head. Sirius found out about this, and Remus didn't eat for a weak out of fear

-bought a muggle camera. James broke it. Bought another one. Petter broke it. He stopped buying cameras.

-doesn't actually celebrate Christmas, but still gets gifts for the boys.

-has no idea what quidditch is about or how to play, but goes to all of the Gryffindor matches

-lowkey a romantic.

-the first years hover around him sometimes because they know they can't get hit by a marauder pranked if they're by him

-also because if he's feeling nice he gives them chocolate

-everyone thinks he's a massive book worm but he hasn't finished a book since seocund year, at this point he just carries it around to seem cool

-bought a leather jacket for himself, hated it, gave it to Sirius as a "late birthday" gift.

-there's a stray cat by his house that he's been trying to befriend for five years. Ithayes him and scratches him if he gets to close. (It loves his dad tho)

-his favorite color is Sage green.

-actually played football as a kid. Broke his leg. Never played again.

-enjoys showtunes

-has a full collection of chocolate frog cards. It is his prize possession.

-sent back the prefect bage when he first got it with a letter that simply said "no." McGonagall sent it back, with a letter that said "yes."

-HAS GOD AWFUL HANDWRITING

-Likes to stare at clouds

-naps all the time

-one time in his secound year he tripped in front of a group of ravenclawes, and sometimes he still thinks about it, hes still embarrassed

-sleep talks, sometimes Sirius and James talk back for fun. "Sirius did you know that you have a nose?" "Very observant Moony." "Why is it so big?" "oi, wHAT-"

-Is petty. Like really petty.

-almost got a tattoo, chickened out last second, now has a permanent line on his shoulder.

-has cursed out a professor. Will not do it again. He cried after.

-genuinely forgets that his body needs things to function. James has to carry a water bottle specifically for Remus.

-a girl in their class called him Remy once and he gagged.

-had a first year confess her love for him when he was in his seventh year. He ran to Lily, cried, and then avoided the first year for months

DONE

[callme-secret]

there are two types if friends, the friend who is trying to go ghost hunting 24/7, and the friend who is both overly religious and terrified of a demon attaching to them.

[callme-secret]

Uncle Regulus Headcannons

Okay first of all when he first meets Sirius's offspring its picture for picture of that one scene in maleficent where she first meets Aurora

Regulus looks into this crib to see the kid that looks exactly like Sirius, and he wants to hate it, wants to scare it away from the black family. Thinks to himself it would be protecting her in some way.

But then she smiles at him, and he just melts.

Suddenly you cant see Regulus black without the little girl on his hip

Any comment on it will get a quick hex sent your way, but its obvious to every one how much he adores his niece

He calls her his Little Star

He gets one letter from his brother that's vaguely threatening but also asking for him to watch and take care of his daughter

Regulus didnt even need the letter he'd be damned if anything happens to the only good thing that came outta the war

He makes in effort to make the house more kid friendly, less house elf heads, more child proof cupboards

Kretcher begrudgingly also falls in love with her

When she gets older you can often see the house elf as a pirate, or a guest at tea party, whatever her young mind conjures at the time

The tapestry is filled with grim old faces but at the bottom theres his niece filled with hope and a butterfly sticker on her cheek

VISITS FROM REMUS

Of course remus would visit, he might think his best friend betrayed and killed James, but he knows about Regulus's past and he'll be damned if Sirius's kid turns into a death eater

But when he finds this little girl, who is just light and good, and everything he fought to protect in war, have The Regulus Black wrapped around her finger he's lost

Hes never seen Sirius's younger brother so soft

"I like your scars." "Thank you." "Uncle Reg has a scar." "Is that so?" "Yeah! It's got an ugly snake on it, but yours are pretty."

Oh god he couldnt protect Harry, so he has to protect this girl

Calls him Uncle Remus

And suddenly you can see Regulus Black, a former death eater, and remus lupin, a war hero, trailing behind this little girl as she picks flowers for kretcher

Reg isnt too pleased when Remus starts hanging around, but then he sees her put a bow in his hair and pour him imaginary tea, and god he can't ruin that for her

Oh god when she first shows signs of magic it's an Absolute mess

It probably happened during lunch, Remus had come over for the day, and they all sat at the table like a mismatched family

She had insited on pouring the drinks, her chubby little hands parley rapping around the pitcher, and she slips. They all wait for the crash but when they look the pitcher is floating.

Only for a secound before it completely crashes to the ground and shatters.

Regulus spends the next twenty minutes consoling the crying girl as she apologizes profusely

But hes too stunned to even think about the broken glass, (so is remus, so kretcher is quick to clean it up)

His niece just performed magic for the first time!

Remus and Reg dont even think before they cheering and parading the girl around the house

"My niece performed magic!" "She'll be top of her class at hogwarts!" They go on for hours about how excited they are.

Christmas is weird. At first it's sad, both remus and Reg seem to be lost in the past, but then they hear the excited pad of feet across the floor and they remember what they fought for.

This little girl is spoiled beyond belief, between both her uncles.

Remus gets her loads of sweets, mostly chocolate, and a muggle doll he thought she might like

Reg doesnt spare any expense, all the latest wizard toys are horribly rapped in cheesy wrapping paper. (He insited on wrapping them himself)

And she has gifts for them too

A homemade paper ornament for Remus, and a drawing of all of them for Reg

I had to cut this in half, partly because it was too long, but also because if I don't stop now I never will.

[callme-secret]

Me as a satyr makes my brain go burr

Picrew Chain!

But this time, you have to design yourself as a fantasy character!

( Here's me as an awesome fairy :D )

And here's the link

@finleycannotdraw @mysockmonkey @spicygrass @heyheyheybutlikeromantically