the Dalaverse

One ficlet done! For hannahrorlove, and thank you for requesting it because I really liked writing Harry.



Proper Attire


There are two suits laid out before me, one black, one blue.

My father loved black. I wore it to his funeral, of course, along with everyone else. And I’ve kept a few of his sweaters, even though they’re a little tight. For awhile I decided I wouldn’t wash them so that they’d keep the scent of his aftershave, and for months I didn’t. But eventually that scent started to fade, and the sweaters didn’t even smell like me instead of him; they just smelled like dusty wool and mothballs. It’s funny how clothes start to smell like mothballs even when you’ve never put mothballs in your closet. Even this black Armani suit, pressed and spotless, would start to smell if I locked it away.

The blue one is one of my favorites. The shirt that goes with it is pretty much the exact shade of Peter’s eyes. Once, when I’d been drinking, I offered to give it to him, but I don’t think he knew what I was talking about, and I didn’t remember it until a couple of days later. Pete wears blue a lot, not because he looks good in it – which he does – but just because he likes it. Knowing him, he’d have this shirt ruined by the end of the day, stained with pizza sauce or coffee, or maybe all the buttons would mysteriously go missing. I’d ask him what happened and he’d shrug, give me that dopey Pete grin, and say somebody tried to take it right off his back. Which is stupid, because we both know he'd probably give it up if anybody asked.

There’s a third suit, but it’s not spread out across my bed. It’s in the room hidden behind the mirror and it’s green. Green like MJ’s eyes, but shiny and metallic, not the soft spring green they get when she smiles at Pete. She smiles a lot, but she never smiled at me like that. I could’ve hated him because of it, but I didn’t. I could’ve hated her for the way I disappeared to him whenever she walked in the room, but I didn’t do that either. Neither of them cared, or even seemed to notice. They’re sure as hell not noticing now.

I didn’t hate them then, not really, not for that.

But I can hate them now. I can hate them for this. For that suit hidden away, and for my father being just a glass reflection, and for giving it a shot when any moron could tell them that it’s never going to work out.

On my way to work, I toss the blue suit in a Dumpster.



(Line was " My father loved black."


I never mentioned what I thought of the movie, did I? To be quick: Loved it. Completely. Much more than the first. I actually liked Mary Jane, and dear lord poor Pete (Tobey Maguire's over-emotive misty eyes -- in every single scene -- bothered me until I figured well, you can't see his damned face when he's in the costume, so it's kind of necessary). James Franco is....wow. One of the most beautiful creatures on the planet. Curly hair -- I am powerless against the curly hair. And there were awesome Raimi cameos! Joxer (I had "Joxer the Mighty" stuck in my head for the rest of the movie) and Autolycus, and then there was Hal Sparks, and I was a very happy Dala indeed. I don't think I want to fic it seriously, but then I said the same thing about PotC last year, and I think we all know how that story ended. There's gotta be a Spidey LJ fic community somewhere -- help a gal out?