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writer-and-artist27 · 4 years

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After Snow Comes Spring

Theme is here. Or here’s a piano alternative. The song’s what gave this oneshot thingie its name, really.

This was originally written as a way to help better utilize my social anxiety in a productive manner, and now that it’s here, I’m going with it. Studying can suck, but it’s necessary and to be honest, I’d rather not sulk all day. So, writing. Here you go. Briefly inspired by Shell Game Chapter 25 from Lang and Silent Feathers Chapter 18 from Os.

Very distant sequel to this thingie, I suppose. Everyone’s 18. It makes the post-writing embarrassment more bearable.

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Crane would sometimes stop by the Nagareboshi Café and find himself peering past the veranda a bit longer than he should. Even if Crane couldn’t be his Uchiha self right now, he still kept that part of him around, as miniscule as it was when the mask was on, just for one person.

Someone would probably call this activity “stalking,” but to be honest, Crane couldn’t care less.

Especially when it came to her.

The rain was cold and unbearable, but Hoshino Tomoko was still standing underneath the patio of Nagareboshi Café to stare up at the cloudy sky with darkened eyes. Even after half an hour of being alone, away from all the hubbub of her home, she hadn’t twitched aside from the usual heaves of her chest telling of breathing. Even when her café had already announced its closing time, she still stood there, watching the rain and barely moving from her spot near one of the windows.

In fact, even from his vantage point, Crane could see how her blue eyes were uncharacteristically dim to match the silence. The red hoodie on her black kimono dress helped with the cold, not to mention the veranda, but it still seemed like she was close to crying.

Something was screaming inside him as he continued to watch.

Tomoko continued to stay silent the entire time he sat there on his electric pole watching. Her eyebrows then furrowed as she gently brought her hands to her mouth, breathing warm air onto her whitened fingers. “Another day,” she exhaled softly, shaking her head. Her gaze was sad as she glanced back towards the dark clouds. “It’s been years.”

Years since what?

“…What would you think of me now, Ty? Have I become ‘worthy’ in your eyes? Or am I still pathetic to you?”

Crane froze.

A chilling, sad, and broken laugh reached his ears even through the rain. It was hard to believe that it was Tomoko’s voice. “Who am I to know? You’re gone. Yet why do I miss you?” She shook her head again, bitterly. “There’s no way to get an answer now. Not after so long.” Then there was a sniffle. Tomoko wiped at one of her eyes with her kimono sleeve, the black cloth coming back wet. “I’m horrible, huh, Ty?”

Crane’s fingers twitched through his armor.

“Crane,” the voice echoed forebodingly into his ear from his neckpiece.

Crane paused, barely noticing his voice having deepened from the lack of breathing and the sudden surge of anger flowing through his veins until he spoke. “Yeah?”

“We have to go soon.”

Crane sighed, adjusting the volume of his voice with a turn of the dial around his choker. The mission. Right. “I know, Turtle, give me a minute.” His heart was pounding again, like his Uchiha self. The self that was yearning to be at Tomoko’s side, to hold her hand and hug her and tell her she wasn’t alone. “…She’s out in the cold again.”

“She’s what?” A pause. Turtle inhaled. “Again, huh?” A sigh then rang through his eardrums. “Star’s sads are horrible.”

“K—Turtle. Can’t we do anything?”

“Crane—”

“Listen to yourself, Crane.” Wolf’s voice this time crackled through his other ear. Jackass professional. “You know we don’t have time. As much as you want to, Hokage-sama’s orders are absolute. Dry up and get going.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Crane snapped, trying to hold back an exasperated huff to not alert anyone nearby of his presence. “It’s Star. She doesn’t stand out in the cold as fuck rain unless something’s wrong. And Moon’s on hospital shift today. For all that we know, Star’s alone.”

A pause followed again.

“She was talking about that guy again, Turtle,” Crane pleaded. “We have to do something.”

“…Wolf,” Turtle said finally, a tiny hitch in her voice, “I think we can spare a few minutes.”

There was a clicking of a tongue. “Five minutes,” Wolf acquiesced quietly, rustling over the line. “No more than that, Crane.”

“Thank you,” Crane huffed irritably, and his hands twitched while fumbling with his mask. Darn the rain for making everything slippery. “At least you’re not a total jackass.”

“I have my priorities straight,” Wolf interjected dryly, more rustling to signal a shake of his head. He paused, exhaling before admitting, “but you’re right. When the mission is done, we can all comfort Star if she needs it.”

“Good,” Turtle finished, a bit of pride leaking into her voice, “Crane, do your thing.”

The single crackle over his headset signaled the end of that conversation and Crane was left by himself on top of the electric pole again.

Tomoko sighed softly, closing her eyes and he took his chance.

A single leap was all it took to stand in front of her, shielded from the rain by the awning, and years of chakra control training softened his step enough for her to not notice him. Instead, Tomoko kept her eyes closed as she pressed her hands together in front of her chest.

“Mirror,” she sang quietly to herself, “tell me something. Tell me who’s the loneliest of them all.”

The last bit of Crane’s reasoning finally snapped.

He nearly threw off his mask when stepping forward, but he clasped onto whatever common sense was left inside to speak. “You’re not the loneliest of all.”

Tomoko’s eyes flew open and those soft pink lips opened to gape. Her big blue eyes were wide enough to reflect his image in the irises. “E-Eh?!” her voice shook, echoing in the quiet with that familiar high pitch of hers that spoke of her turbulent emotions. And indeed, there was no mistaking the hint of fear lacing her words. Of course. She hadn’t recognized him. “A-ANBU-san? When did you—”

Crane shook his head, cutting her off while loosening the straps of his mask. “I’ve been here the entire time. And normally, I’d be Operative Crane, a ninja who can’t even talk with civilians. But I would’ve thought you’d know who it is behind the facade, considering you’re not running away.”

Once the straps were off, he let the darn thing fall to the ground and Tomoko’s cheeks flushed pink from surprise.

With Crane gone, Uchiha Obito grinned wryly in his place. “You make it really hard to go without worrying about you, Tomo-chan.”

“O-Obi?!”

Obito couldn’t help himself. He only had five minutes after all.

A single squeak was the last thing left between them as Obito lurched forward and captured Tomoko’s lips in a searing kiss. He didn’t even care that his armor was soaked through, that the wind was cold and that people could be staring. All that mattered was pushing that scum’s name out of his girlfriend’s mind, to erase whatever scars Tai left, even if it meant compromising his security.

Obito had a promise to keep and he couldn’t do it as Crane.

A moment passed and once the oxygen was running low, Obito gently nipped at Tomo-chan’s bottom lip in a quiet reprimand. It was enough to startle another, smaller squeak from her mouth as he pulled back.

“O…Obito?” Tomo-chan inhaled shakily, cheeks flushed and lips now somewhat swollen from the kiss. Her red hoodie had long since fallen back to rest against her neck, probably from the force Obito used to push her back. Oops. He got too into it. “Don’t you have to go on a mission?”

Awwww. Wait, no.

She yelped once he leaned back in for a quick peck, her resolve wavering as fast as it came. “H-Hey!”

Obito could faintly hear his headset crackle from microphone static in the back of his mind. Probably Turtle or Wolf. But that was Crane’s responsibility. Right now…

“I do have to go, probably in the next minute or so,” he mumbled, a smile barely hanging onto his face. But Tomo-chan was still in his line of sight, looking up at him with those cute big blue eyes of hers, so Obito couldn’t help himself. He pressed a hand against the window to lean in, pressing a softer kiss to her forehead. “But don’t think you’re ever unworthy and horrible, Tomo-chan. You’re cute and I love you, so at least remember me before Tai.”

“Oh.” Tomoko’s eyes narrowed weakly at him in spite of the dark red staining her cheeks, her breath coming out in shaky puffs. “Y-You’re not going to bother remembering his name, are you?”

Obito grinned. “Nope!” He pressed one last lingering kiss to her lips. “I love you, Tomo-chan. Not him. He doesn’t deserve anything. And if you believe otherwise, I’ll come back and make sure you remember that.”

Tomoko could have easily resembled a tomato with how red she had turned in the span of a moment. She opened her mouth, letting out a funny noise akin to a small horse before nodding to herself and taking a breath. “G-Got it. Okay.”

“Crane.” Wolf’s voice interrupted him through the intercom. “It’s time to go.”

Of course. Goddammit.

The moment Tomoko took to reorient herself was enough to give Obito time to take a step back to pick up his mask, snapping the straps back onto his head. Once he did, Tomoko raised her hand to gently wave at him. “I-I love you too, Mr. Crane.” Her smile was definitely exasperated but still all the more real. “Be safe.”

“The same to you, Ms. Star,” Crane said in Obito’s place, hiding his matching smile behind the white mask as he stepped out and back into the cold downpour. “Expect a visitor in the near future.”

A single leap and the pole was back underneath the soles of his sandals. Crane inhaled.

Obito could still feel his lips tingle from the moment.

“Mr. Crane?”

Crane paused. He swiveled his head back, and Tomoko was still smiling. “Do you and your guest like the piano?”

Crane tilted his head at her. “What do you think, Ms. Star?”

With that line said, he leapt away and the moment was over. It was time to get to work again.

By the time he reached the village gates where Wolf and Turtle were, Crane could’ve sworn he saw a twinkle in the sky.

#the sea and stars #writing #oneshot #hoshino tomoko #uchiha obito #team minato #keisuke gekko #hatake kakashi #lots of teenage romance #obitomo

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buckychristwrites · 6 years

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Two Wrongs Make It Right | OS | p.p.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter's used to being the one doing the saving, but on what he assumed would be one of the hardest nights of his life, the rescuing of a stranger makes the whole thing worth it.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: So fluffy

A/N: Hey! Been a while since I’ve written for my favorite Petey boy. This is for @upsidedownparker‘s 5K Writing Challenge! Thank you to Kath for letting me participate. The prompt I wrote for is Fake Dating!AU! Let me know what you think! :)

Masterlist

In hindsight, Peter had no one to blame for being in this situation except himself.

He mailed in the RSVP. He bought the gift. He rented the suit. And then, for reasons beyond even his understanding, he showed up at the wedding.

And now he was sitting on the bride’s side, waiting for the ceremony to start while trying to hide the fact that he could not for the life of him stop fidgeting. He still couldn’t figure out why he listened to Tony when he told him to come to the wedding out of spite. It seemed like good advice at the time, but now it just seemed silly. Who’s really being spited when you actually accept the pity invite from your ex-girlfriend of almost four years who cheated on you with the man she’s marrying?

The little chapel was packed, Peter noticed as he scanned the room. If he had to take a guess as to how many people were in attendance, he’d say about sixty people, seventy-five maximum. Which isn’t a terrible number. Although, with the help of Tony, he could’ve gotten around two hundred or more people there. Hell, he could’ve invited no one except his coworkers, who happen to be the Avengers by the way, and it would’ve still been cooler than anything the actual groom dished out. Not that Peter was bitter or anything like that. He had a good life, being on his way to getting a masters in biomechanics and engineering. That, on top of being an Avenger, who had time for long term relationships?

Nope, not bitter at all.

“I wish they served alcohol at these things.” The voice spooked him, causing him to jump. Turning quickly, he found you sitting next to him. From the look on your face, he could tell that you were just as uninterested in being there as he was. Your head rolled to the side to look at him. “I mean, the ceremony is just a pregame to the reception right? And pregaming generally involves drinking.” He chuckled.

“Y-yeah, that would definitely make this more tolerable,” He admitted. You huffed slightly, before extending your hand towards him and introducing yourself. He stared blankly at your hand for a second, forgetting everything he knew about talking to another human being.

“Peter. Peter Parker,” He told you as he took your hand in his and shook it. As soon as you pulled your hand away, you looked around the room for a few seconds. Peter looked up at the front again, although after a short amount of time had passed, his eyes trailed over to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

“You here for the bride?” You asked him, although he knew you were just trying to start conversation. You knew the answer by his seat in the room.

“Yeah,” He said, sounding more sullen than he had meant to. The way you rose an eyebrow and tilted your head confirmed you had noticed. “Ex-girlfriend.” You nodded once in understanding.

“Harsh,” You said simply. “But I get it. I’m an ex too.” His eyebrows furrowed together, as he looked around to make sure that he hadn’t messed up and sat on the wrong side of the room.

“Of the bride?” He asked, turning to face you again.

“The groom,” You told him. “I just sat on the bride’s side because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being on his.” The corners of his lips twitched. Peter knew there was more to the story, but just before curiosity got the better of him, the music changed to signal the beginning of the ceremony.

A large lump formed in his throat as he turned to watch the wedding party parade down the aisle, immediately facing forward again once they all had lined up at the front. He stood along with everyone else when the bridal song began, but he didn’t turn to face her. When she came into view, Peter swallowed down a gasp.

MJ looked beautiful, although he had expected her to, as she walked down the aisle. The closer she got to the front of the alter, the harder it was for Peter to breathe. The whole ceremony went by in a blur, as Peter had a hard time focusing on it.

It wasn’t that he was still in love with MJ, because that went out the window a long time ago. It was the fact that he thought that he would be doing better. She played him, fucked him over in a way that no one deserved. He gave her everything and she threw it away. From what people told him, karma would catch up with her in time. But it’s now been two years, and it seemed like things were only getting better for her while things were just the same as they had been for him.

“Do you, Michelle Jones, take Eugene Thompson to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister asked.

“I do,” She said earnestly. Flash looked way too satisfied at her answer as he turned to scan the crowd. Peter side eyed his neighbor, and chuckled as you scrolled through your phone, not even bothering with the events taking place in front of you.

“And do you, Eugene Thompson, take Michelle Jones to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do!” Flash said eagerly. He looked through the crowd again, until his eyes landed on you, and then jumped to Peter. They narrowed, and Peter looked away from him.

He zoned out, missing the rest of the ceremony and only being brought back when the crowd began to cheer and applaud. He couldn’t help but glance over at you as you stuffed your phone in your bra and lazily clapped along with the rest of the guests. The newlyweds did the traditional running out of the room while everyone cheered, but Peter was thankful that the reception was in the party center room next door, and that there was no need to move to a secondary location. Or to go outside.

The crowd began to shuffle out of the chapel. When Peter turned to where you were sitting, he found that you were already gone. He suddenly felt slightly lonely as he stood and sauntered out of the chapel with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants.

The music was loud and boisterous as he entered the reception room, the bass making the floors vibrate beneath Peter’s feet as he walked to his table. The chair tipped backwards slightly as he flopped down. The music changed as the bride and groom were introduced, but Peter ignored them, staring down at the table instead. He thought about all of the things he could be doing instead of being at this wedding. Studying. Watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Playing video games with Ned. Sleeping. Staring at a wall. Literally anything other than this.

“PENIS PARKER!”

The voice was so loud that Peter thought for a second that it was yelled over the microphone. He slowly turned to see Flash making his way towards him while being scolded by MJ, who was hanging off his arm. But Flash didn’t seem all that concerned.

“Hey, Flash,” Peter said, trying hard to hide his complete discontempt, though his monotone voice made it very unconvincing. He swallowed hard. “MJ.”

“How are you, Peter?” MJ asked in a delicate voice. He shrugged.

“Fine,” He said simply, not bothering to return the question.

“Why’d you come alone, Parker?” Flash said in a mocking tone. Peter began to think of high school, and was now really wondering why he didn’t think this would happen. “You know, the whole point of us giving you a plus one is so you can actually bring someone to the party, not look sad and pathetic when you don’t use it-”

“Why would he need a plus one when his date was also invited?” A cold voice asked. Peter spun to see you standing right behind him, two drinks in your hands as you walked over to the seat next to him and sat down. When Peter looked back up, for the first time in his entire life, he found Flash looking stunned, his mouth hanging open while no words came out. As you scooted your chair so it was pressed against Peter’s and looped your arm through his, Flash stammered in obvious frustration.

“You’re here with him?” He finally blurred out. You stared at him, with a face that read slight annoyance and confusion at the question.

“Was that not obvious?” You asked him. “I know you saw us sitting together at the ceremony, did you think that was a coincidence?” Peter had to give you a lot of credit, because with the way your stories were rolling off your tongue with such ease, he found himself almost believing them.

“Wh-how long have the two of you been together?” MJ asked, fighting to mask the shock of her own. Peter, taking the hint from you when you squeezed his bicep, spoke up.

“About a year and a half now, I believe?” He asked, turning to you. “Right, babe?”

“Two years in September,” You added, as if you were in sync with him. When Peter looked up at Flash, satisfaction filled him as he noticed the color had left his face. Flash leaned down towards you, leaving MJ with an annoyed look on her face.

“Can we talk?” Flash said so quietly that if Peter didn’t have super hearing, he wouldn’t have heard it. Without missing a beat, you looked at Peter.

“No,” You said simply, a bright smile filling your cheeks. It was obvious you were enjoying this way too much. Taken aback, Flash stood up straight again. As he put his arm around MJ’s waist, he didn’t appear to notice the glare she was shooting him.

“Thank you both for coming,” MJ said before grabbing his hand and pulling Flash away. You laughed as you watched them before turning back to Peter.

“Sorry about that,” You said as you took a sip of your drink. “You looked like you could use a bit of rescuing.” Peter shook his head as he took a large gulp of the drink you brought him. Rum and coke. Not a bad choice.

“No, thank you,” He said genuinely. “I’ve never seen Flash act like that before in all the years I’ve known him. Made this whole thing worth it.” You laughed before taking another sip of your drink. A long amount of time had passed before Peter realized he was staring at you. “So I have to ask. What’s the story between the two of you?” Rolling your eyes, you finished your drink before turning to him.

“I dated Flash in college,” You paused to laugh slightly. “For not quite five months.” Peter’s eyebrows met his hairline. He had thought, by Flash’s behavior, that it had been a lot longer than that. You laughed again when you saw his expression. “Yeah, not the longest time but long enough for me to be embarrassed by it.” You folded your hands on the table. “It was in my junior year. I had just gotten out of a bad relationship and really only wanted someone to fool around with. But he wanted more, and I figured what the hell?” You shrugged. “He was crazy clingy and a huge douchebag. I was getting ready to break up with him when he told me he was in love with me.” You shuttered. “That was a rough day. And now every time I see him, he hints that he’ll drop anyone and everyone if I said the word. So the goal for this evening is to not be alone with him at any point ever.” Peter nodded.

“Fair enough,” He said. In the back of his head, he noted to remember to call Ned later to tell him everything he had found out about the man who was the biggest bully in school, once upon a time. You leaned on the table, bringing your hands up to rest your chin on.

“And now I have a date,” You pointed out. “Which makes it even harder for him to corner me alone.” There was a hint of flirtatiousness in your voice that made Peter blush and look away. While you were a complete stranger and he knew nothing about you, there was a sort of comfort in knowing that he wouldn’t have to spend the reception by himself. And he found you incredibly attractive, which didn’t hurt either.

You sat back slightly in your seat, eyes narrowed at Peter.

“So let me guess,” You started, tilting your head. “High school sweethearts. Thought you were going to be together forever.” Peter felt his chest deflate. “And then one day you came home from a long day of work to find the love of your life screwing the biggest asshole on the planet in your bed.” Peter visibly flinched, and you softened a little bit. “Shit. That’s horrible. I’m so sorry it went down like that.” When Peter caught your eye again, he smiled slightly.

“It’s been years. It’s fine,” He said, shrugging. “Besides, you weren’t completely right.” His smile got wider. “I was coming home from class, not work.” For whatever reason, he felt his heart skip a beat when you smiled back at him.

The two of you whispered throughout all of the emotional parent and wedding party speeches, receiving glares from the people sharing the table as well as surrounding tables. But neither Peter nor you cared. It was the only way either of you could get through the never ending compliments of Flash and MJ as a couple.

Soon after the speeches were over, the newlyweds were brought to the dance floor for their first dance. Perfect by Ed Sheeran began to play, and Peter scoffed. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, you turned to him.

“I bet you anything she only picked this song because he turned down all of the other songs she would’ve much rather picked,” You said as you watched them, an amused smile on your face. Peter laughed a little louder than he intended.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” He told you.

The DJ invited everyone else to join them, and he turned to you.

“Wanna dance?” He asked, holding out his hand. You stared at it, and he could see the wheels turning in your mind before you smiled.

“I’d love to,” You said before slipping your fingers through his and letting him lead you to the dance floor.

As you and him got into a groove together, Peter couldn’t help but notice the looks the two of you were receiving from both MJ and Flash, and for a quick second he felt slightly guilty. He didn’t come to the wedding in an attempt to make MJ jealous, and he didn’t go along with your plot to piss off Flash. The last thing he would want to do was ruin their day, even after everything they did to him.

“God, can you stop with the guilty looks please?” You moaned, and the smile on your face let Peter know you weren’t trying to be hostile. “You should be offended and angry. They clearly have an issue with you having a good time, when they fucked you over so bad.” Peter looked away from you. There was no doubting how right you were. The looks on the newlyweds’ faces read confusion and discontempt. It was obvious that they were letting the newfound information of Peter’s relationship status affect their moods. And despite the fact that it was a very elaborate lie, he was still quite pleased by the whole thing.

Your body was pressed against Peter’s and he was painfully aware of it. He knew that you were just trying to make it look realistic to your audience. It would definitely look odd if the two of you danced like a couple of eighth grader’s at the school dance when you were claiming to be a couple of two years. But there was something different about it. Obviously MJ wasn’t the last person he had been intimate with, but this was a level of intimacy that he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

When the song ended, you planted a kiss on Peter’s cheek before pulling from his grasp, and for a quick second, he felt a sort of void from it.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” You told him, your dress twirling as you spun around and walked away. He watched the way it looked like you were gliding, losing himself for a quick second. The sound of a throat clearing from behind him brought him back to Earth.

“Hey, Peter,” A voice said, and he turned to find MJ smiling at him. He could practically feel his heart fall from his chest.

“H-hey MJ,” He said in the best excited voice that he could muster. Through her kind smile, he could see the discomfort in her face. “Beautiful wedding.” She looked around, nodding in agreement.

“Thank you,” She said distantly before turning back to him. “And thank you so much for coming. It’s...it’s really nice to see you. I wasn’t sure if you were actually going to come.” Peter took this time to look around the room himself. Everything about this conversation was making him uncomfortable.

“I wasn’t either,” He said truthfully, turning back to her with a blank face. She swallowed hard.

“Look, Peter. I just wanna say-” She began, but he didn’t let her finish.

“Don’t,” He said, shaking his head. She opened her mouth to speak again, which only made him shake his head harder. “Really. Don’t.” He knew all she wanted to do was apologize, and he wasn’t really in a position to want to lie and tell her it was all okay and forgiven. While he was over it, for the most part, there was still no part of him that had any interest in forgiving her or reconnecting. He just didn’t have the stomach for it.

She nodded, biting her lip and looking down at the floor. When she looked back up, Peter couldn’t deny the tears in her eyes.

“You look good, Peter,” She told him in a whisper. There was a moment where he just stared at her, his mind running blank, until one face popped into his mind.

“I- my girlfriend. She’s in the bathroom,” He said suddenly, referring to you as he pointed in the direction he had just seen you heading in moments ago. “I should probably go look for her.” Without hesitation, he turned and all but ran towards the bathrooms.

He turned down the hallway just as you were walking out, a look of surprise and confusion on your face. You opened your mouth to speak, but something changed in your face that Peter couldn’t quite understand. Suddenly, you were on him, shoving him against the wall.

“Just go with it,” You said quickly before your mouth crashed into his. His eyes were wide as he stared at you, but then he melted into your kiss. His hands found your hips and his eyes closed once your fingers entangled themselves in his hair. Something ignited in Peter as he deepened the kiss, bringing one of his hands up to hold the side of your head.

“Oh come the fuck on.”

The two of you jumped away from each other as Flash stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

“The only person who’s allowed to get any sort of action at this wedding is me,” He snapped before storming passed you and Peter and throwing the men’s bathroom door open. When the door swung shut again, you turned to Peter and smiled.

“I heard him coming, thought we could give him a show,” You said coyly. “Not bad, Parker.” He was speechless for a minute, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times as he tried to come up with what to say.

“How about we get out of here?” He blurted out accidentally. But when the look on your face was happily surprised and not angry or disgusted, he felt the embarrassment from it wash away. “I could buy you dinner, and we could actually have a fun night and not be surrounded by people we hate.” Considering it, you nodded.

“You know, I think I’d love that,” You told him. “Being petty and pissing Flash off on his wedding day is a great time, but it’s not worth it.” Peter held out his hand, and you took it without an ounce of reluctancy before the two of you walked back through the reception hall. Though he tried his best not to, he couldn’t help but notice MJ sitting at the wedding party table with her chin resting on the palm of her hand, looking around the room in complete uninterest. He thought about letting her know he was leaving, but then decided he didn’t care.

The evening air hit the two of you once you walked out of the wedding hall. Deep purples, pinks, orange and blues painted the sky as the sun was setting. While you walked, the two of you were silent. Peter looked over to find you admiring the sky above, your face awestruck. He couldn’t help but think of what he would’ve missed out on had he decided to skip the wedding. Sure, he wouldn’t have had to relive what MJ and Flash had put him through, but he also wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you, which made it worth it.

“Where do you wanna go?” He asked you, seeing the contemplation in your eyes as you mulled the question over.

“We should just walk for a while and see what we come across,” You told him. There was a long pause before you spoke again. “I almost didn’t come to the wedding, but I’m really glad I did.” You looked up at him. “I’m really glad we had the chance to meet.” Peter sighed in relief.

“I was just thinking the same exact thing,” He told you. The whole night he felt like your thoughts were in sync with his. Which made the experience with you all the better.

“We should get faked married and invite them, see how they react to that,” You said with a mischievous look in your eyes. “That really might push them to divorce.”

“Maybe one day we’ll get really married,” He said before he could stop it, instantly cursing himself. The thought had crossed his mind, but he didn’t mean to say it outloud. That was one fault Peter knew about himself. His filter didn’t always work. The tension that rose in his muscles relaxed the second you laughed.

“We’ll see how this dinner goes first,” You told him. Internally, he thanked every possible spiritual being in the universe that you didn’t punch him or run away instantly.

Within minutes, the sky was dark. Peter found himself growing protective, slipping his coat over your shoulders and pulling you slightly closer to him. Tony had engraved these habits into him, and now he couldn’t stop himself.

“So,” You said, drawing out the word as you looked around at the city surrounding you. Peter looked around with you, as it was obvious you were looking for people. But it was just the two of you for as far as he could see. When you looked back at him, you smiled slyly. “Are we just going to keep walking around, or are you going to stop pretending that you don’t have your web shooter on you right now?” Peter felt his entire body go cold.

“I- I don’t- my what? How- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He stuttered out, shaking his head and breaking eye contact with you. Gently, you grabbed his sleeve and rolled it up to reveal the bracelet that Stark had made him, the one that turned into his web shooter as soon as he touched it. He stared at it for a few seconds before his eyes looked up to you.

“How the hell did you know?” He asked, slightly afraid. Lifting your hands, you reached for a button on his shirt, and when he looked down he saw that it was unbuttoned and showing the red Iron Spider armor he wore under his shirts. You were gentle as you rebuttoned it closed, tapping it with your fingertips before pulling away.

“Besides, Peter,” You said, your smile growing. “You’re not the only one with secrets here.” As you turned away, Peter swore he saw your eyes turn a piercing red color, but they were normal when you looked back at him. “So are we flying or not?”

Peter thought long and hard for a moment. You were a stranger, who evidently knew one of his biggest secrets. And while he should’ve taken that as sign to run away, there was something about you that told him not to. If you were a threat, you would’ve acted on it already now that the two of you were alone. But the smile on your face was too kind, and the way your eyes glowed in the moonlight made him take a chance. He always loved a good risk.

Before he could think about it for any longer, he activated his web shooter, before grabbing you and pulling you closer.

“Hold tight,” He said. Nodding, you jumped onto his back and wrapped your arms and legs tightly around him. With his free hand under your thigh, he took a deep breath and began to sprint, shooting up a web that sent the two of you soaring through the air. The quiet evening air was filled with the sound of your laughter bouncing off the buildings, which elevated his heart to a level he couldn’t recall it being in a long time. As he shot out another web, a bird began flying towards the two of you. He was about to swerve out of the way, but there was a flash of red and suddenly the bird had moved a few yards to the left. His mouth formed into an O shape as he whipped his head to look at you, but you were looking at the sky, smiling and pretending to not notice. As he faced forward again, he couldn’t hide a smile of his own, despite his best efforts.

It was clear that he was definitely not the only one with secrets here.

And he couldn’t wait to learn all of them.

_________________________________________

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silvermarmoset · 6 years

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Clara Oswald’s Wardrobe: The Eleventh Doctor Years

Yeah. You read it right. I’m back, bitches.

After a brief sojourn (like...two years) into not covering such fascinating topics as Martha’s elegance, Rose’s scrappy jeans, and River Song’s backwards-forwards style routine, I’m back to discuss Doctor Who and costume design, because we all have things we’re good at and mine is yelling about hemlines! So while we all mourn Bill Potts—please come back to the show, Pearl Mackie, I beg you honest-to-god—let’s throw in a flashback to a long time ago, and play around with CLARA OSWIN OSWALD.

One nasty bit that’s kept me from getting to this post earlier is that Clara’s series 7 arc, thanks to the fragmenting-into-ten-thousand-tiny-pieces bit, is a little hard to view from a “character/costume” perspective. Do I count Oswin as part of her, despite significant differences between "our” Clara and Souffle Girl, or do I view their costume choices separately? What about the Clara from “The Snowmen”? What about the one who ran after Tom Baker in a terrible incident of green-screen-enabled acid reflux?

Lord. Her feet don’t even hit the floor.

So after a lot of debate, I’m counting them, albeit shyly, and without extending to them the same connective layer I generally use between a character’s costume choices. They’re a part of Clara, so I can’t ignore them, but I won’t assume every choice they make extends to our Clara. After all, discussing all those Claras would just be impossible, wouldn’t it?

I know. Great segue, right? Join us, pals, for a new edition of The Companion’s Wardrobe.

When we first meet Oswin, I’m falling over myself because I love her so much. Ok, no, not really. But it’s hard to fend off the charm of this first outfit—it’s a mix of Pure Sex, Geeky Cool Kid, and Perky Sixties Air Stewardess that knocks together a couple diverse style types and leaves us unsure what her whole deal is. There’s the cheeky red dress with the asymmetrical neckline, the rose she tucks behind her ear, the sci-fi tool belt and watch, the youthful-chic sneaker-heels. It goes together, but what ties these into a cohesive character?

Uh, yeah, Os, and if you’re gonna sass me the whole post you can do it in a more productive fashion. What these posts do is analyze—not assume what the designers meant, ever, but take what we know from the dress, delete from our brains our own metas and conjectures and far-flung notions, fling whether we think it’s pretty out the window except for that one rose tyler outfit. it deserved to be sassed, and try to embrace this as Character Translated Into Dress™ (while of course letting insignificant details slide because not EVERYTHING ties into your analysis, dumbass). We’re being told something, here, or else it’s just shitty costume design.

Which is always perfectly possible.

But no, Oswin’s dress is aiming for something: perfection. Everything about this dress is right, but it’s also TOO much. Too clean. Too fun. She’s polished and pretty and happy and comfortable—and none of it could possibly be real, with a Dalek just outside the door. While most of the wrecked passengers we’ve seen in past under-siege dramas have looked a little wrecked, with a dusty spacesuit or a tattered hairstyle to prove it, Oswin’s perfect bouncy curls and scratch-free outfit signal us far before the Doctor does that something is off.

Besides the perfection of this outfit, unstained by real life’s messes, there are other hints of what Oswin’s got going for her. The bright red, like a warning signal, should hit us over the head: every other companion is a mish-mash of different hues and patterns, while Oswin reads like a stop sign. The heeled sneakers I love so much are almost kid-like, if not innocent—as is much of Oswin’s made-up life, as she calls her mum and lounges in her chair. She reads as both red-hot “NO” and a perfect, happy, straight-out-of-Pushing-Daisies “yes.”

It’s no wonder we didn’t know what to make of her the first time she showed up. She was popping into every different direction, and somehow making it work.

The next time we see her, the costumes hit us over the head with how this is the same character. Because guess what? The Lady in Red is back.

Same hair, same low neckline, but a subtler shade of red this time, all over.

I honestly don’t have a lot to say about this outfit (though it’s INCREDIBLY beautiful), except that red immediately marks Clara out as bold, and vivid, and a little bit larger than life. Remember how Rose dipped into dark reds slowly, after growing out of the safer pinks she got from Jackie? Clara’s already there, wearing blood red all over, inciting the Doctor to do something.

Until she isn’t. Count me confused.

I’ve got no answers why her bland young charge picks up her red, or why Clara suddenly wears something that departs so drastically from everything she’s coded into her dress previously. Sure, she’s in “disguise,” but isn’t she closer to her true accent now? Why align herself color-wise with the ice monsters? Why ricochet between blue/green and red to further this split personality deal?

I got no answers. Sorry, lads.

Modern Clara’s still got a touch of that “come on!” red, but it’s minimized. She’s wearing one of those light, tiny-pattern, floaty-fabric things that were SO EVERYWHERE in 2013, but that’s all we get from her. She’s a mystery, dressed in whatever’s currently in fashion, flaunting past a gravestone.

But the lady in red is never gone for long.

This is our first time with Proper Clara, and it lays out the elements of Clara’s personal aesthetic that we’ll see for quite some time. Little, adventuresome boots; black tights; a flimsy little dress with a subtle pattern; a big coat, comfortable and practical. The flying bird necklace is lovely. The skirt has the high-low hem of many skirts from this year; we’ll see one like it again. Aside from the visual shout-out to Dalek Oswin in the red dress/short boots combo, all this aligns with what little we know of Clara at this point—she’s competent at whatever she sets her mind to, she’s young, she's both adventuresome and fashionable; she’s very tidy and put-together.

I’d argue her look is still way more put-together than most normal people achieve—think of Rose’s slapdash jeans or Martha’s tank tops—but if I bite the inside of my cheeks and take deep breaths I can accept this as an outfit most TV costume designers would claim is normal, in the same impeccably-dressed “normal” vein of Iris West. It’s pretty, it’s contemporary, but it doesn’t tell me anything much.

[this briefly-seen outfit, with its cardigan and vintage-y blouse, marks Clara as a sort of pretty-librarian type, though again this look is very in with then-contemporary style.]

Which gets to the root of a problem I have with many of Clara’s outfits in Series 7. Clara is frequently accused of being “boring”—and I firmly believe this has loads to do with the way she dresses, divorced from any opinion on the writing or the plot at this point. Jenna Coleman is an engaging actress, but a lot of the costumes from this era give us a cute, ordinary woman at the expense of furthering her arc in a particular direction.

There are clues, of course. From the quality of her clothes, she’s somewhere in the middle-class range—not quite as effortlessly classy as soon-to-be doctor Martha, but not quite at Rose’s level of street style either. Clara probably reads The Guardian. Those boots aren’t cheap.

Her outfit is very well put together, though it doesn’t push any boundaries of style. Clara is always tied into contemporary fashion, from this point onwards, with her boots and jacket bringing a little frisson of tough to counter the femininity of the dress and bag. The bag’s a sharp, bossy red, and all together it kind of gives us who Clara thinks she is: perfectly turned out, girlish and flirty, tough enough to deal with a crisis, with just a small splash of opinionated red on the side.

There’s red, again, in the flashback. (side note: how young is her dad????)

“Cold War” mixes it up, though this is still Clara: there’s the slightly flared skirt we’ve seen in the past two looks, and the tough jacket firmly in evidence. I love the buttons up the front, though, and the icy shimmer is a nice departure—a little more glam than we’ve seen before from Clara. Considering Clara thought she was heading to Las Vegas, we can see what she thinks is appropriate for a night out right now: that vaguely-retro 1950s look Taylor Swift started, with a strong streak of cute, but nothing your grandmum would hate. (Amy would have had that skirt at least 6 inches shorter and narrower.) She’s girly and tough.

“Hide” runs along the same lines. (also, bless all these full-costume promo pics.) The gentle cardigan look is back, and aside from the heels it’s all quite demure. It also looks great for the spooky tone of this episode! Incidentally, this is Clara’s third blue outfit in a row, leading me to wonder when we abandoned the vivid red Claras of earlier for these calm, cool, inward-looking young ladies. It’s almost a visual rebuke to the Doctor for seeing her only as the red adventuresses of earlier—those girls were red, sir, but this one is blue, so get your head together and consider the color symbolism.

Oh. Or fuck me for trying, I guess. That works too. Who needs consistency, am I right?

Aside from me throwing myself out the window because the red keeps coming back but I can’t figure out WHY, this dress is a lot like Clara’s others. Her favorite pair of boots is back, and it’s quite buttoned-up and modest, if a little shorter than before. And the tightrope of bold-but-girly continues to be Clara’s calling card, with the minimal jewelry keeping her just on this side of not-too-dressed-up.

It’s telling that she stands out in this episode, though: she’s in stark opposition to the cold blues worn by the Doctor and his TARDIS, a visible antagonist as these two question and frighten her about her right to belong.

“The Crimson Horror” gives us two great Clara looks, which is great because holy shit look what they did to this skirt.

I can’t quite explain what happened here, because for all the world it looks like they took apart a 1910s-style hobble skirt and threw in a gradient underskirt for the solid reason of Why The Hell Not, but I love it despite it being bonkers-levels of historically inaccurate.

Then there’s this.

I LOVE THIS TOO, but character-wise I really have to grit my teeth because I don’t get why Clara, ordinary girl from the twenty-first as she seems to be, would have either the knowledge or the inclination to dress her hair in the elaborate fashions of the period. But it’s a spot-on perfect dress, with none of the historic bumbling Rose managed on her first try. It lacks the super-puff sleeves of the 1890s, but I can live with it because of those fantastic little V’s down the front. It’s perfect.

We’re back in red for “Nightmare in Silver,” and everything’s very much Normal Clara: the little heeled shoes, the slightly flared skirt, the tights and the tough jacket and the trim little collar. With stronger fabric choices, she looks more in control than ever; she’s developed slightly away from the girlishness of those high-low skirts, though that girly quality is still there in the short skirt. Her arc has not been consistently signaled so far in either silhouette or color choices, but this outfit marks Clara as being more in command than ever before.

In the finale, she’s in same silhouette as last time, but new shoes (Clara seemingly adores footwear that combines heels, boots, and little oxford-y things into one package). Compared to her first modern outfit, she’s much more visually controlled—dark-hued, geometrically patterned, no more flounce or flutter. The color scheme is much more similar to the blue/green of the governess outfit, and red’s completely vanished—she couldn’t be farther from the saucy little barmaid act in “The Snowmen.” And yet by the end of the episode, she’s shattered into her—and into a girl with spikes on her jacket, and a girl dressed like Sarah Jane Smith, and a girl and a girl and a girl and a girl.......

I can’t explain this. I’d love to say that Clara coalesces into a firm costume arc over the season, but I can’t find a clear arc without pushing my designer’s brain to untenable conclusions. Through costume, I watched Martha grow from a confident student to a warrior; I watched Rose grow from a thoughtless girl to a brave woman. River developed in ways that suggested where she was going and where she came from, despite the challenges of a plotline her costume designers couldn’t plan for. Series 7 Clara stretches my brain, and I still come up empty. Where was all that red going? Can a change so slight as “pretty girlish” to “a little less so” count as an arc? Did someone not tell Howard Burden the plot, so he couldn’t plan a clearer costume progression? What happened here????

Thankfully, Clara’s not done growing yet, though. Onto the specials!

Clara begins "The Day of the Doctor” in, again, red. I quietly scream because red can be such a dramatic and weighty color and I hate seeing it just pop up for reasons I can’t make sense of. Clara ignores my protests and hops into her adventure.

This outfit’s perfectly within the same realm as Clara’s previous gigs: heeled boots, check; black tights, check; small-print non-geometric pattern on lightweight fabric, all present sir; cheeky red and tough black jacket, reporting for duty. This outfit could have shown up any point in Series 7 and I would have accepted it. Clara’s working as a schoolteacher now (a very chic one), and the whole outfit reads as saucy and cute and just a little badass.

And then “Time of the Doctor.” Oh, I love the “Time of the Doctor” costumes. This is great. This is when Clara starts making sense.

Clara gets two outfits in this: the cheeky yellow-sweater one, and the red-plaid-skirty one. They’re both very twee and pseudo-vintage and Britishy, which is very much in Clara’s realm so far, but they take what Clara’s already had and push it—heartily, extremely, and in a way it’ll never recover from—into bold new territory.

Clara’s style has shifted in this episode. With the proud geometric plaid, the bright red hue, and the overall sharper fit, Clara has absolutely moved on from the girlishness from “The Rings of Akhaten” into something far more confident and controlled. There are significant details: the little infinity-symbols of her cardigan, the spikes on her necklace and bracelets, and the old-fashioned lace on her blouse make an unusual combo that finally distinguishes her from an H&M commercial. It’s strong and decisive, a little bit bossy, with boldness winning out over cute. Fashionable? Yeah! Modern? Always! But powerful, too, taking up the screen with tight shapes and controlled blocks of color.

The yellow sweater and leather skirt hit the same notes. The feminine flutter of early Series 7 is truly gone; without changing Clara’s style completely, the smack-you-in-the-face mustard sweater and the edge of the leather angle her away from “feminine adventuress” into “adventurer femme.” The priorities shift. It’s the signal of where Clara is going from here—into deeper, darker territory.

So, what do we take from this? Though Clara started out as a bit of a cipher—thanks to red dresses leading us in one direction, and then cute little floral pattern outfits taking us in another—over Series 7 Clara gradually came together as a bolder, more in-command character, and even started to develop a style of her own that verged beyond the norm. Where could that take us in Series 8? How will her costumes change to interact with an entirely new Doctor? Will I ever get to see that bird pendant necklace again? (yes.) Who knows! I’ll have to write a post about it!

Whatever happens, it’s going to be an awfully big adventure.

[Got thoughts & questions? Come at me! I love talking about costume, and anyway I had to edit this post extensively to even get it to post, so I couldn’t even mention things people might wonder about. LORD I LOVE COSTUME DESIGN SO MUCH.]

#UGH THIS TOOK SO LONG I HOPE IT'S GOOD #PLEASE READ+REBLOG IM DYING #dw costume design #clara oswald #doctor who #dw series 7 #dw series 8 #costume design #costume analysis #clara #doctor who costuming #companion's wardrobe #dw #dw meta #doctor who meta

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