#me *hearing vigilante shit for the first time*: hey yaz -

[blossoms-and-possums]

vigilante shit is @battlehamster ’s wywm regulus’ song. here is why:

draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man

okay, this line is obviously about being able to paint sleek, clean eyeliner on, which we know regulus can do, even after a period of an inability practice.

‘Taking in a deep breath, Regulus lets muscle memory do its job with quick, short strokes [of eyeliner], until he’s got a sharp line on the very corner of each eye. And it’s the best feeling he’s experienced in fuck knows how long. He turns to look at Sirius with his middle finger up[.]’ - ch17.

you did some bad things, but i’m the worst of them

sometimes i wonder, which one will be your last lie? they say looks can kill and i might try

these lines are about power, which we know regulus has. he’s a Black, and yaz has established in wywm that the Black family blood is important. it gets people places, it gets people fired, it gets shit done (and they look good while doing it). 

‘looks can kill’ here could have a double meaning, in that regulus always looks good - ‘[regulus is] pretty in absolutely everything he wears.’ - ch17 - and that his wrath is enough to kill someone. he even mentions a willingness to have lily killed for her neglect and awful treatment of james and harry. ‘Murder has never figured among the list of his crimes, even the ones he wasn’t put to trial for. But he’s also well aware of the fact that dismissing of Lily wouldn’t keep him up at night, because just like Sirius used to say, half of him did come from Walburga Black, after all. If James asked him to, Lily wouldn’t make it alive ‘til sunrise.’ - 17

i don’t dress for women, i don’t dress for men

lately i’ve been dressing for revenge

since moving into james’ place for house arrest, regulus wears clothes that make him happy. he doesn’t wear the trousers and shirts he was essentially forced to wear when he was engaged to barty and working for his parents. his freedom in his clothes and stylistic choices are is ‘revenge’, a “fuck you” of sorts to walburga and the control she had over him.

‘He’s allowed to wear something that makes him feel pretty. Especially if that something happens to be something that would’ve made Mother throw a fit if she saw him in it. And it’s not that oversized t-shirts and cool socks don’t make him feel pretty, mind you. He’s pretty in absolutely everything he wears. But he can’t deny there are certain things that bring him some extra happiness when he puts them on, like overalls.’ - ch17

i don’t start shit, but i can tell you house it ends

so, obviously, regulus didn’t initiate the corruption of the Black Empire. once his parents, lucius, and other employees/members of the family land themselves in prison, and regulus is able to get out via sirius, regulus is able to direct where the future of the Black Empire is headed. he does so by influencing amos into doing his bidding, with the promise of power.

‘“And I will, of course, occupy her place. So, when this shitshow ends, I am going to need a new COO. Someone dedicated and intelligent, but above all, someone loyal. That someone will be you if, and only if, you keep me as far away as you possibly can from Black Industries until I can walk free.”

Regulus slides the stack of papers back to him, and extends his hand.

“Do we have a deal, Amos?”

A bit wide-eyed, Amos is quick to nod, taking his hand.

Regulus shakes it firmly, with a grin crossing his lips.’ - ch11

don’t get sad, get even

regulus has demonstrated a vengeful streak, which i elaborate on a bit more in the ‘vigilante shit’ section, but is shown in this quote: ‘“Of course I do,” he snaps. “I can make her disappear from the face of the Earth and never inconvenience you or Harry ever again, if that’s what you want.”’ - ch17. regulus is willing to have lily killed for her mistreatment of the boys he loves; that is, james and harry. to regulus, this is ‘get[ting] even’. 

so on the weekends, i don’t dress for friends

lately i’ve been dressing for revenge

she needed cold hard proof, so i gave her some

she had the envelope, where you think she got it from?

now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

after all the miserable years regulus endured away from james, whilst with barty or in prison, he gets to be reunited with his lover, he gets a kid, gets to move into james’ house, and his finally reaching a happy ending. ‘“Not you, Dada!” Harry grunts. “I was talking to Papa!”’ - ch30/31

‘“I can make you the happiest man alive.”

Regulus stays quiet for a long time, enough to make James wonder if he stepped out of line, but then his lip curves tenderly at the corner and the night becomes brighter. “You already do, darling.”’ - ch32

‘“I love you more,” he whispers close to Regulus’ ear, but Regulus shakes his head.

“I regret to inform you that’s impossible,” he tells James. “I love you more.”’ - ch32

picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife

and she looks so pretty drivin’ in your Benz

regulus was gifted a mercedes-benz on his birthday. ‘“Someone sent you the keys to a bloody Benz.”’ - ch17 

also, james got a new car after getting into an accident. and im sure james (im making james the ‘she’ here, hope that’s ok with you all) definitely looks pretty when he drives :) ‘“I should have the new car by then so I’m going to drive down to the office for that, you won’t have to see Bobby again.”’ - ch24

lately she’s been dressing for revenge

well, he was doing lines

and crossin’ all of mine

someone told his white collar crimes to the fbi

this line is so self-explanatory, i feel like this headline will more than suffice. ‘‘REGULUS BLACK SENTENCED TO SERVE ONE YEAR AND EIGHT MONTHS BEHIND BARS IN AZKABAN FOR WHITE COLLAR CRIMES.’ - ch1.

and i don’t dress for villains or for innocents

once more, just elaborating on how, with his newfound freedom (ironic, given the most freedom regulus has is during house arrest for his crimes, but i digress) regulus dresses only for himself. ‘Oh, nothing, besides the fact that he spent years forcing himself to put on suits and ties and leather shoes and fucking belts every time he had to dress up like a proper businessman, even when he was in uni, and then the time he spent sitting behind a desk, eating grilled salmon for lunch and resisting the horribly strong urge to tell his secretary to cancel all his meetings because he was going to jump off the balcony. To be fair, putting on some jeans will never, ever amount to that sort of torture, but still.‘ - ch11.

i’m on my vigilante shit again

i think it’s safe to say regulus would consider himself a vigilante. by definition, a vigilante is someone who undertakes law enforcement without legal authority, typically because the legal agencies are thought to be inadequate. this definitely rings true with what we have seen with regulus. most obviously is with the lily situation, and having her deported from india back to england, and stripping her of her ability to work where she had been. notably, regulus does his vigilantism behind james’ back. repeatedly. 

(1.) ‘“Hold on, is this about you getting Lily deported back to England?” James wonders. Regulus doesn't think he's ever been robbed of his words as quickly as in that moment. “What?” he wheezes, shoulders falling on his sides. “How the fuck did you know about that?”[...]

“I know you, Black, whether you like it or not. And that night you asked me if I had any news on her, you got that look in your eye... The look that always, always means trouble,” James tells him. “Every time you got that look I used to fear for some poor soul's safety, (2.) like that time some Hufflepuff called me some names and you got his head and eyebrows shaved off right before the Yule Ball.”’ - ch17.

james goes on to say he never knew how regulus did ‘that’ - shaving the hufflepuff’s eyebrows off before the yule ball - and regulus then tells him. as previously mentioned, regulus also intends to reform the Black Empire with amos diggory’s assistance, which could be yet another example of his vigilantism.

ok. that’s all i got rn.

[thetenthdoctorscompanion]

A One Shot Series - Peter Parker/OC

Word Count: 3285

Warnings: Idk language? Teens being awkward and fluffy.

A/N: Do you like how every time I post a ‘one shot’ I add another eight hundred words? Eventually these won’t even be one shots lmao.

MASTERLIST | PREV | Three

The full magnitude of what he had done didn’t hit him until the next morning. Peter woke with a start, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a half-formed haze. 

“I tol’ ‘er em Spid-man!” 

“What was that, Pete?” asked Aunt May, who was unloading a basket of laundry onto his dresser. 

“Uh—nothing! Sorry, um…morning, May.” 

“You too, sleepy head. Get going, will you? I don’t want you to be late again.” 

Peter was anxious all morning. He sprinted to the train, to school, to class. Even when he was safely in his seat, five minutes before the bell, he couldn’t stop himself from twitching. What if she told someone? Would it matter? What if someone followed him back to his apartment one day? What if they found out who he was? What if May found out what he was doing? Shit, if May found out what he was doing he was so, so, so dead. No one could know what he was doing. 

The whole day, Peter kept expecting someone to point at him and say, “Look!” But no one did. He told himself he was being irrational. He hadn’t even told Yasmin who he was, just the name of the mask. There was no way she’d be able to recognize him. They weren’t even really friends. 

He kept an eye on the news as well, just in case there was any gossip. One of the local channels covered the break-in the next morning, but it was a short piece. There were a couple shots of the store, one or two of Mr. Delmar talking to the police, but it was all swept under a tight voiceover. Two robbers, one gun, apprehended by a masked individual before the police could arrive. No name, no sketch, and no mention of spider-webs. For the most part, he seemed to be in the clear. 

Still, Peter decided it was better safe than sorry. He skipped out on his trips to the Delmar’s bodega for the next week or so. It didn’t look like they were losing patronage anyway. Any time he dared to pass on the corner, the place was packed with customers. Mr. Delmar had the front door replaced the afternoon after the robbery, and the new metal stood out against the window frames. Peter could only imagine that he’d been explaining what happened all week. Everyone wanted to hear the story for themselves. 

Or maybe they just really liked Milo’s sandwiches. Peter didn’t want to be self-absorbed. 

The curiosity was eating at him, but he stuck to his decision to keep his distance. It wasn’t until one day when he was helping Aunt May with the grocery shopping that she made the decision to swing by. 

“I just want to get some ham,” she said pulling him into the store. “I know you usually eat at school, but just in case you want a sandwich or something…” 

“Ay, Ms. Parker!” 

Mr. Delmar was beaming behind the counter. He’d never bothered to hide his shameless flirting with Aunt May. May always brushed it off, saying that was just the way he was with people, but Peter had never seen him flirt with any of his other customers. Customers, Peter noticed, that were not flooding the store for the first time in days. It seemed like the crowds were finally starting to thin out. 

“Hi, Ricky,” Aunt Mat said with a smile. “How are you doing?” 

“No, no, no. More important question is how are you doing, bonita?” 

“Oh, stop. I’m good. I’ve been good.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, going to grab a bag of chips from the rack. He eyed the jalapeño flavor longingly, but stuck with sour cream and onion. 

“Now, this might be a silly question,” Aunt May started as Mr. Delmar wrapped her purchase, “but didn’t your front door used to open the other way?” 

“Yup,” he answered, irritation clear in his voice. “That’s what I get for hiring a rush job, I guess. Had to replace it last Sunday.” 

“Oh no! Why?” 

“Why? Didn’t you see on the news?” He gaped at her, almost affronted when she shook her head. “Well, someone tried to break in. Did break in, actually.” 

“Oh my God!” 

“That’s awful,” Peter chimed in, nodding. 

 “Well is everything okay? What happened?” 

Mr. Delmar leaned forward over the counter. He clasped his hands in preparation for his story. 

“So, Saturday night we’re closing a little later than usual, and I ask Yasmin to finish up for me—she’s fine,” he added at May’s gasp, “really, she’s fine. I get her set up, go upstairs to help Abuela, and then I hear this crash. Loud. So I call downstairs to her but she says she’s fine. Now, I knew she sounded worried—stressed—but I figure, you know, maybe she broke something. I’ll give her a minute or two to fix it before I go down and find her. And that’s when I hear the gunshot.” 

“They had guns?” May asked, horrified. “Oh no, Ricky…” 

“I go running downstairs. I grab my bat, I’m ready to go, but by the time I get down there, everything’s stopped. Yazzy’s behind the counter, temblorosa, and there’s three guys. One’s all red and blue—he’s got the mask, he’s got the gun—and the other two are in black, strung up in these spider-webs. And I mean up, like cocooned three feet off the ground.” 

“What?” 

“Exactly what I’m thinking. So, of course, I go to take out the guy with the gun, and Yaz runs up waving her hands. ‘No, Dad! He saved me! He saved me!’ Apparently he came out in the middle of the robbery, shot out these webs, climbing up the walls. Stopped the whole thing before I could even hit the stairs. Another one of those enhanced people, you know? Saved Yasmin’s life.” 

“Oh my goodness,” Aunt May sighed, hand on her chest. “Ricardo, I am so sorry. How’s she doing? Is she alright?” 

“She’s doing okay,” said Mr. Delmar, nodding solemnly. “I think she’d having trouble sleeping, but you know kids. She doesn’t want to tell me that. And when she’s awake she just won’t stop talking about this Spider-Guy.” 

“Well, he saved her life,” said May. “I don’t blame her.” 

“Y-You know that’s really crazy, Mr. Delmar,” Peter piped up. “I didn’t see anything about that on the news. Wouldn’t that, you know, be…news?” 

“You’d think,” he said, and jabbed a finger at Peter’s chest. “Everyone’s been coming in here, wondering what really happened. Not a peep on any of the reports. And you know what I think? It’s the cops.” 

“The police?” asked May. “They wouldn’t do something like that, would they?” 

“Course they would. After all that shit in Manhattan? That Devil guy, the Punisher? All makes people think they can’t trust the police. Like they don’t do a good enough job. Last thing they want is more people in masks.” 

“But—But this guy was just helping, right?” Peter asked persistently. “I mean, he—uh—it sounds like he just caught the guys. You still called the police, right?” 

“Yeah, I called the police. The Spider-Guy, he was…I don’t know. He was a little weird.” 

“Bad weird or just weird weird?” asked Aunt May. 

“Nah, nothing bad. But he didn’t seem like the big ones, you know. Sounded like he didn’t really know what he was doing either. He didn’t have a supersuit or anything, just like a little track suit with the face covered up. Wouldn’t take any kind of reward, didn’t want to stick around for the cops or help get rid of the robbers. Just took a bag of chips and skipped out.” 

“That’s totally weird,” Peter agreed, nodding sagely. 

“Hey,” Mr. Delmar said with a shrug. “Guy could wear a tutu if he wants, for all I care. Long as Yasmin’s alright and my store’s still upright. Hell’s Kitchen’s got their masked guy, and now it looks like Queens has got our own.” 

“God, I couldn’t even imagine,” said May, still shaking her head. “Peter Benjamin Parker, if you ever see anything like that, I want you to run as fast as you can in the opposite direction, do you understand? The last thing I need is to worry about you getting caught up in some robbery or vigilante or conspiracy plot or…” 

“No worries, Aunt May,” he promised. “I have no desire to be anywhere near a gun.” 

Again, he added to himself silently. At least any time soon.

They left shortly after that, heading home so they could put the groceries away and Peter could finish his work. The whole time, he kept playing the conversation over in his head, different parts sticking out to him at different times. Was he really making life harder for the police? Was Yasmin having nightmares? Was he doing more harm than good as Spider-Man? Was she really talking about him non-stop? 

It wasn’t a conscious decision. At the same time, Peter wasn’t surprised to find himself out that night, perched on the snow-capped building opposite the bodega. The lights were on in the apartment upstairs. Blue lights flickered through the cracks in the blinds, someone watching TV on the other side. A set of pink curtains glowed with lamp light, the yellow bulb making them red in the darkness. As Peter watched, someone pushed them apart, a silhouette with elbows propped on the window sill. 

A car passed, and for a moment, Peter could just make out her face. He could see what Mr. Delmar meant. He hadn’t seen Yasmin in days, but she looked tired. Peter wasn’t even sure what time it was. She just sat there, staring listlessly out the window. The only time she moved was when some kind of noise echoed down the street—a car horn too close, the slam of a dumpster in another alley, a cat’s yowl. Every sound made her jump a bit. Peter could sympathize with that, at least. It wasn’t always fun, being hyperaware of everything around you. With him it had been involuntary, a side effect of his powers. But after what happened to Yasmin, he couldn’t blame her. Slight paranoia was probably part of the reason she was having so much trouble sleeping. 

Beneath him, someone slammed their window shut. Yasmin flinched, and ran her hands through her hair. Then she froze. Peter looked around, trying to find the focus of her attention. Until she raised a hesitant hand and waved. 

“Oh, shit, shit, shit!” 

He considered ducking, considered sprinting off the other end of the roof and bolting it all the way home. But that wasn’t exactly going to change anything. He’d already been caught. It would look just as bad if he ran away after being caught, if not make it look worse. Besides, he reminded himself, his face was covered. He was Spider-Man, the crime-stopper, not Peter Parker, the awkward nerd. 

Uncertainly, he raised one of his hands to her as well. Any doubt faded away instantly as another car passed by, lighting up the smile on her face. 

Peter took a running jump, and flipped across the street. He landed on the wall just beneath her window. There was a metal grate on the street side—an empty flower bed that had never been filled—and he scooted up to fold his arms on it, his feet sticking to the bricks below. 

“Uh…hey there.” 

“Hi,” Yasmin managed. She’d clapped her hands over her mouth when he jumped, and had to lower them before she continued. “You kind of scared the crap out of me for a second.” 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—you know, I wasn’t trying to be creepy by watching you. Not that I was watching you! Just that I was sitting across the street watching…the street…” 

“It’s fine! I guess that’s what you do, right? Go out at night and keep an eye out for trouble?” 

“Well, yeah. Sometimes.” 

“Actually, it uh…kind of makes me feel better. Safer.” She bit her lip, nervously winding the ends of her dark curls around her finger. “Sorry. That probably sounded weird.” 

“No, not at all. I mean, there’s a guy hanging from your window in sweatpants, so…I don’t think I’ve got any room to decide what’s weird here.” 

She grinned and relaxed a bit. Peter tried to keep his eyes from wandering into the room behind her. Her walls were a light blue, clothes and books scattered around the floor. There were a few band posters around the walls, and the yellow lamp that was still shining on her desk. When she leaned back from the window, he could hear the squeak of bedsprings. Her bed must’ve been pressed up against the other side of the wall. 

“I’m Yasmin, by the way.” Peter blinked at her as she continued toying with her hair. “I didn’t get the chance to say that the other day, with all the…guns and stuff.” 

“Right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Yasmin. Officially. And um, like I said—I’m Spider-Man.” 

He was not expecting her to smirk at that. 

“Well, Spider-Man, I think you kind of lied to me the other day.” 

“I…did?” 

“Well, you told me you were nobody, but as it turns out, you are all over the internet. I found like six different videos of you on YouTube—backflipping off buildings, stopping car crashes, saving cats from trees. And there’s a whole thread of tweets with people talking about this crazy guy that’s been doing parkour all over Queens in a red and blue sweat suit. Like, jumping-off-buildings and flying-through-traffic parkour. I even found a blog post where someone cut down the webs you left behind and they saved them. There were pictures and everything. Kind of crazy.” 

This was all news to Peter. Sure, he’d kept an eye on the news, on the trending topics, but seeing as nothing had gone viral, he’d thought he was in the clear. He hadn’t heard anyone talking about it at school, and he figured hallway gossip would be his first sign of trouble. Despite this, only one part of the conversation seemed to stick with him. 

“You Googled me?” 

Yasmin flushed. 

“Hey, a mysterious stranger in a onesie saved my life. I’m allowed to be curious.” 

“No, totally. I just didn’t realize you were running a background check.” 

“Shut up.” Her eyes popped wide and a hand clapped right back over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. That sounded so rude. I just meant…” 

“Yasmin, it’s okay,” he chuckled. “You are definitely allowed to tell me to shut up.” 

“Right.” She shifted again, hugging her knees up to her chest. “So uh…what brings you back to the neighborhood?” 

“Well, I wanted to check on the store. Make sure those guys didn’t have any ideas about coming back with reinforcements. But uh…I also guess…I wanted to see how you were doing. Most people wouldn’t be great after something like that.” 

“I’m fine.” 

Peter hoped that his disbelieving expression could still be read through his mask. Yasmin must have gotten the message, because she sighed and pulled her legs closer. 

“I will be fine. As soon as I start sleeping again and Dad learns to trust me and things go back to normal.” 

“What do you mean trust you?” 

“Just that he won’t leave me alone anymore. I can’t open the store. I can’t close. I can’t run the register if there’s not at least one other employee in the room with me. And I get it. I don’t think I’m ready to be alone there either, but it’s—it’s everything else. I have to text him when I get to class and when I leave practice. Call with every change of plans if I’m going to a friend’s house. He’s even on my back about walking to school.” 

“Well it sounds like he’s just worried,” Peter reasoned. 

“I know he’s worried. I’m worried too. That doesn’t mean he has to coddle me every second of the day. Bad things happen sometimes. It’s not like getting robbed increases the chance I’m gonna get snatched off the subway.” 

Yasmin shut her mouth abruptly. Eyes squeezed shut, she forced a deep breath in and out of her chest. 

“Sorry. You don’t need to hear this.” 

“Hey, I asked. If talking about it makes you feel better, then I’m all ears.” 

“Oh really?” Yasmin peered down at him in amusement. “I didn’t realize therapy was on the superhero agenda.” 

“You didn’t? Shit. I guess I can’t charge you for this, then. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to afford me.” 

Yasmin laughed again, the sound too loud at first. She frantically looked at her bedroom door, as if expecting someone to come barging in. But there was no movement in the rest of the house. Another thought seemed to occur to her. 

“Actually, that reminds me.” 

She rolled off of her bed, moving to grab something in a corner Peter couldn’t see. When she came back, she was blushing again, chewing on her bottom lip. 

“Don’t make fun of me,” she warned. 

Peter was about to ask why when she handed him a brown paper bag. The top was rolled down like an old-school lunch bag, and there was a poorly doodled spider on the front. 

“Aw, no way! Is this what I think it is?” 

He scrambled up the wall, moving to sit on the iron flower bed without invitation. He ripped the bag open, and inside was a pile of snacks—water bottle, apple, granola bars, gummy worms, jalapeño chips, even a few lotto tickets. 

 “I was gonna make you a sandwich or something,” she explained, “but I didn’t want it to spoil with the meat and everything, or if you even eat meat, or if I was even gonna see you again. And—wow, now that I said that out loud this whole thing just got even more awkward. Please pretend I didn’t say any of that.” 

“I don’t think I wanna do that,” Peter said smugly. “I think I’m gonna remember that.” 

“Smart-Ass.” 

“Yeah.” He rolled the bag up again, swinging his legs idly over the street. “Really, though. Thank you for this. I’ll probably stash it up on some rooftop for emergencies. Last minute snack reserve. Except the apple, obviously. But man, I love these chips now. I kinda just grabbed them on a whim, you know? I’d never tried them before, but they’re crazy good.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. And if you ever want some more, um…you know where to find me.” 

Another car drove by, and Peter tensed. 

“Ah, I—you know, I probably shouldn’t. If I’m hanging out of your window all the time asking for potato chips, people are probably gonna start to notice. Then they know where to find me, and…” 

“Right! Oh my God, totally. I get it. You’ve got to stay undercover.” 

“Exactly, yeah.” He forced himself to climb off of the grate and back onto the wall. “I should probably get going. Try and get some sleep tonight, okay?” 

“Yeah, I will,” she promised. “And…thanks for listening, Spider-Man.” 

“You got it, Yasmin.” 

She beamed at him, and Peter quickly jumped off the wall before he could change his mind. He’d stopped by to make her feel better, and he had. Job complete. If he was going to keep being Spider-Man, he had to be smart about it. Don’t give away your identity. Don’t take the same patrol route every day. Don’t stay in one place for too long. Simple stuff. 

He just had to stay smart. 

FOUR