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A TANGLE OF SILVER | Aemond Targaryen

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Chacter | Aemond Targaryen x Y/N | Aemond Targaryen x Lowborn Maid

Summary: He wraps her in silk, but she’s the one who holds the thread that keeps him from unraveling.

CW: Obsession, mutual possession, emotional enmeshment

She is the last to touch him each night, and she knows it.

The court may gossip, the ladies may flutter, the knights may kneel and scheme, but when the torches outside his chamber flicker and dim, when the heavy door creaks shut with a finality that echoes through the stone halls, it’s her hands that reach for him.

Only hers.

Aemond Targaryen sits, stone-faced, before the fire like a statue carved from ice, his long silver hair wild—matted with sweat from battle, training, or just the sheer defiance of the wind. He doesn’t look at her when she enters. He doesn’t need to.

He knows she’ll come.

And she always does. Called or not. Dismissed or not. She comes.

Tonight is no different.

The room is stifling, the heat pressing against her like a heavy, unyielding blanket. The fire crackles in the hearth, twisting and snapping, as though it, too, wants to escape the suffocating air. But nothing moves in the room except for her hands—slight tremors just barely perceptible in her fingertips as she reaches for the silver brush laid out beside the basin.

Its bristles are carved from boar's hair. Its handle, chased in dragonbone. She lifts it carefully, reverently. She’s heard it once belonged to Queen Alicent, but now... it belongs to him.

And it belongs to her.

The tiny strand of Aemond’s hair caught in the bristles is proof of that.

He sits before her now, shirtless, damp from his bath, his hair flowing down his back like molten moonlight. His posture is regal, proud. Perfectly princely. But his gaze doesn’t meet hers. Not yet.

He doesn’t need to acknowledge her. She doesn’t need him to. Not when she has already claimed this small corner of his world.

The first stroke is always the hardest.

With deliberate care, she brushes through the first few strands, the rhythm slow, measured, but the tension between them thick enough to choke. She knows what she’s doing. She always does. The brush digs into his scalp, the pressure of her fingers against his skin sending a ripple of something—not pain—but something much worse, more familiar.

He’s alive. He’s hers.

And with each pull of the bristles, she drags him closer, holds him tighter, binds him further with the strings of her obsession.

He doesn’t look at her. Not yet.

But she knows when it’s time.

The brush is in her hand. The same one that’s never touched anyone else’s hair. Only his. She grips it a little too tightly, just to feel the pressure. To remind herself that this—this power—is hers. Hers to wield.

She steps closer.

“You don’t get to ignore me,” she whispers, her voice low, biting with venom.

Aemond’s lips twist into a smirk, half his face contorting in mockery. "And what will you do, little maid? You think you can control me?"

The words land like a slap, sharp and stinging. They cut deeper than he knows. But they don’t break her. Not this time. The rejection only fans the flames of need in her chest, makes the fire hotter, more insistent.

Without hesitation, she kneels before him, her movements fluid, determined. She presses the brush to his scalp, feeling the soft strands of his hair slip through her fingers, silk-like, cool like moonlight.

“I’m not the one who needs controlling, Aemond,” she murmurs, her voice hushed but certain. “It’s you. You belong to me.”

Her fingers curl into his hair, tugging hard.

His eye flares with irritation, but there’s something else lurking beneath it. Something darker. Something raw. He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t protest. He knows this game. She knows this game.

This is her claim.

She tugs again. His jaw tightens, a sharp intake of breath. His hands grip the arms of his chair, knuckles white with the strain, but he doesn’t speak. Not yet. Not when he’s so close to breaking.

Her hands work with more urgency now, each brush of the silver comb feeling like a deeper mark, a deeper wound. The need within her twists and grows with each stroke. His pulse thunders beneath her fingertips, the fight in him rising, but she won’t let go.

“I’ve been patient,” she says, her voice laced with sweet satisfaction. “Too patient.”

Aemond’s head jerks back in annoyance, but she forces him forward again, her fingers digging into his scalp, her grip iron-clad.

“You’ve been so strong, Aemond,” she continues, her voice soft, but there’s something dark beneath it, something seductive. “But you don’t have to be strong anymore. Let me be strong for you.”

He shudders, breath quickening, and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, she sees a crack in his facade. His defenses are crumbling. And the moment he lets go—he will fall into her. Into her arms. Forever.

“You don’t need to be so angry, my love,” she breathes against his ear. “Let me make you whole again.”

Aemond’s face twists, fury flashing across his features as he turns toward her, a bitter laugh bubbling in his throat. “Don’t touch me.”

She presses harder against him. His gaze flickers with rage, but also something else—something unfamiliar. His pulse is frantic against her touch, but she isn’t afraid. She doesn’t flinch. She’s already won.

Her fingers slide gently, but insistently, down his jaw, holding him captive, forcing him to look at her. His gaze narrows, the scar beneath his eye pulling tight as he glares at her. He’s still angry, still defiant, but something in him is cracking.

“No,” he growls, his voice grating with the force of everything he wants to say. “I won’t be fixed. You can’t fix me.”

Her laugh is soft, but it’s sharp—almost predatory. “I don’t want to fix you, Aemond. I want to protect you.”

He sneers, shaking his head violently. “Protect me?” His hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist with savage force, but she doesn’t flinch. She’s unbroken, untouched.

She holds his gaze with an unshakable certainty, her voice low, unwavering. “I’m not going anywhere. You can fight me all you want, but I’m not leaving you.”

Aemond pulls her against him, shoving her toward the wall with all the force of his anger. His breath is ragged, hot against her skin. His chest is heaving with the rage that’s boiling over.

“I’ll break you,” he spits, low and guttural, his words like a challenge, a warning. “I’ll burn it all down before I let you control me.”

But she smiles. Dark. Knowing.

“Aemond,” she whispers, her voice dripping with something sinister, something intimate. “I already have.”

His defiance is still there, flickering in the depths of his gaze. But there’s something else too. A flicker of... understanding. Of fear. Of acceptance. And for the first time, Aemond isn’t quite sure if he wants to break free, or if he wants to let her pull him deeper into the tangled web she’s spun.

He feels it, doesn’t he? The way she has already claimed him. Not with force. Not with violence. But with a softness so deadly, so relentless, he can’t escape it.

For the first time in his life, Aemond Targaryen is not sure if he’s the one in control anymore.

Her fingers barely graze his scalp as she lifts the brush again, tracing the curve of his skull. Aemond doesn’t speak, his silence as thick as the tension in the room.

Her heart beats faster, more erratic as she leans in, the scent of him overwhelming her senses—soap and sweat, leather and something darker she can’t quite name.

She knows the power of touch. Knows how it can bind, how it can tear.

“I know you’re here,” she murmurs, her voice low, like a secret she’s only willing to share with him. “I know you want this, even if you won’t say it.”

His lips press into a thin line, but she can see the way his chest rises with every breath, how his body betrays him in the quietest of ways. He’s never been good at hiding what he truly feels, no matter how much he pretends.

She leans closer, brushing her cheek against his, feeling the heat of him. “You want me to leave?” she asks, the brush held in her hand like a weapon, though the weapon is never in the brush. It’s in her words. It’s in the way she can break him without lifting a finger.

“No,” he mutters, the word strangled, barely audible over the crackling fire. His eye flicks toward hers for a split second, filled with an emotion he quickly shuts down. “But you need to.”

She stops for just a moment, letting the silence fill the room like a thick fog. The brush hovers just above his head, its bristles trembling in her grip. His words hit her like a slap, but she doesn’t back away. She never does.

Instead, she leans in further, breath hot against his skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers, her voice as soft as the brush against his hair. “Not now. Not ever.”

Aemond. You need this. You’ve been through so much."

His jaw tightens. No. He doesn’t need her. Doesn’t need anyone. He’s the prince, the last Targaryen with the blood of dragons coursing through his veins. He doesn’t need comfort. He doesn’t need care. He needs nothing from anyone.

“No,” he grits through his teeth, his words sharp as daggers. “You don’t get to fix me. I’ll never let you fix me.”

Her fingers tighten in his hair, pulling sharply. He winces, but it’s nothing compared to the rage inside him. He leans in, his breath hot against her face. “If you think you can control me—”

“I don’t want to control you,” she interrupts, her voice low and dark. “I want to protect you.”

Aemond laughs—bitter, low, an animalistic sound. “Protect me? You can’t even protect yourself.”

His hand flies out, grabbing her wrist with an almost brutal force, but she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t back down. She just watches him with that same, unshakable certainty in her eyes.

“I don’t need your protection,” he says, his voice hoarse with rage. “I’ve never needed anyone.”

His body shudders with rage and something else—something darker, something twisted. Her touch is maddening, her love suffocating, but he can’t escape it. He’s trapped between her insistence and his own volatile nature.

With a growl, he grabs her by the shoulders, forcing her back, pushing her against the wall. His breath is wild, his chest heaving with a primal fury.

“I’ll break you,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “I’ll burn everything down before I let you control me.”

But she only smiles, her eyes dark and knowing. She’s already won.

Aemond is still staring at her, his face flushed, his chest heaving. His lips are bruised. His eye is wide—confused, angry, but also... intrigued. A flicker of something other than contempt.

s. There’s something maddening about the way she looks at him. Something unyielding, like she knows she has him trapped even though he’s still fighting.

“Aemond,” she whispers, her voice a soothing balm against his anger. “I want you to understand.”

He feels the brush of her hand against his face, soft, but there’s nothing gentle in the force of her touch. Her fingers trail down his jaw, then grip his wrist with surprising strength, pulling his arm up as though it’s weightless. Aemond's heart pounds in his chest—each beat a painful reminder of his humanity. She’s forcing him into something he doesn’t want, but he can’t escape it.

He tugs at his arm, but she doesn’t let go. Her fingers tighten, not painful, but insistent—commanding. She’s pushing him into a space he doesn’t want to enter, but she’s too close, too strong. Her eyes never leave his as she pulls his hand to her chest.

His fingers brush against the fabric of her gown, and then—her heartbeat. It thrums beneath her skin, steady and relentless. She presses his hand harder against her chest, forcing him to feel it.

“You feel that?” she murmurs, her voice a breath in his ear. “It’s yours now, Aemond. My heart. I’m yours.”

Her voice cracks, thick with desperation. “Feel it. Feel how it only beats for you, Aemond. You think I don’t see it? I see you. I’ve always seen you—I’ve always been here.”

Aemond’s heart is pounding too now, but it’s not from the passion of her words—it’s because of the rage that claws at him from the inside. He doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want her love. Doesn’t want the weight of…of whatever this was.

For a moment, he stands there—completely still—his forehead pressed against her shoulder, his breath shaky. His chest heaves with the weight of everything he’s kept hidden. The mask of the fierce prince, the warrior, the unbreakable Aemond One-Eye, shatters in an instant. All of it collapses into her arms.

And he crumples.

He crumples like a child—like the broken boy he’s always been. Tears sting his eye, but he’s too proud to let them fall. Yet the sobs are there, raw and jagged, building in his throat. The rage, the pain, all of it rushing out in the quietest, most vulnerable way he’s ever allowed himself to be.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. Her arms tighten around him, holding him close, letting him collapse into her, letting him break. She murmurs soft, soothing words, stroking his back in slow, calming motions.

“You’re safe,” she whispers, her voice a gentle hum against the pounding of his heart. “I’m here. I’m always here, Aemond.”

For a long time, they stand like that—just holding each other—her warmth wrapping around him like a blanket. The walls he’s built up for so long crumble to dust, piece by piece. And in her arms, Aemond allows himself to just be. He doesn’t have to be a prince. He doesn’t have to be angry. He doesn’t have to be strong.

In her embrace, he is allowed to be fragile. To be human.

And for the first time in a long time, Aemond doesn’t feel alone.

#aemond x you #aemond fic #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #hotd #hotd fic #obsessive love #possesive love #maid #aemond fanfiction

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punks-never-die205 · 14 days ago

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By the Horns

Hybrid Bull AU

See Part one for thanks and Personal note <3

Available on Ao3

CW: Hurt, sex, revenge, murder, abuse, dark themes, estrus, tensions between humans and hybrids, so much sex, so much - and in an unexpected twist: consensual drugging, 18+ only.

Tag List: @keiva1000, @mfreedomstuff, @usopp-enjoyer

Chapter 3: Stuck

When you finally came around you were confused for a moment. It was almost impossible to move. You could wriggle a little, but there was heavy padding against your arms and legs, and heavy belts holding you against a really comfortable bench. There was some soreness from your immobility, stiffness in your limbs, and your body ached in odd places, but you remember a little bit of why.

Your farmer had beat you terribly, worse than you could remember him doing, and you’d made the grave error of mooing in your fear. A sound most hybrids only made during extreme emotional moments, and one he’d beaten out of you for the most part. He left to go get his ax, and you knew if you didn’t get up and run away you’d never run again.

You didn’t know what he was going to do, but the last time he raised his ax you lost your tail.

It was okay. You became more human after that, and that’s what he wanted. It was for the best because then you looked more like her, and that’s what had gotten you pulled from the pens in the first place.

But no matter how much he tried to teach you, and no matter how desperately you tried to learn, you couldn’t be something you weren’t. You couldn’t be her, and you couldn’t be human, and part of you thought maybe that meant you deserved to die, but a larger part of you still wanted to live.

So you ran.

You didn’t know where you were, or who was outside the door, but you could smell that you weren’t alone. You were in a breeding rig, and you felt clean - cleaner than you’d felt in weeks honestly, the soft scent of disinfectant and soap tickling your nose just under the scent of something else. There was something woven into the cotton of the shirt you were wearing. It was far too big for you, and probably belonged to the bull you ran into last night.

A bull. Gods you hadn’t been railed by a bull in years. You hadn’t even caught wind of a bull for the last year, the farmer had kept you so isolated inside the house. You could feel your body heating up despite the aches and pains still throbbing against you. While you’re in the rig you don’t have to hold yourself up, and it doesn’t take much energy to just take it.

And you can smell one just outside the door. A soft, sweet scent wafting up from the cracks in the door.

“Ah,” you can almost imagine him railing you, the needy sound escaping your lips even as your face heats up. “Sir, sir please. I’m a good girl, I promise. I’m wet and ready, and if you come in here and fuck me, you’ll be able to see for yourself.”

You husk out the words, the need rising in you more. You didn’t know if it was the smell of him, or being in the rig, or maybe it was just because you weren’t going to die. It was the first time in a long time you’d felt yourself coming into heat. You’d been on estrus suppressants for so long you weren’t sure you’d ever have to deal with another heat again.

But the medication was daily, and maybe you were the filthy little whore the farmer always said you were, to be in heat and need so fast. But you didn’t care right now, you just needed it.

“Please, please sir. Mister bull, sir, please, I can smell you,” you whine into the empty room. “I know you can smell me, please, please I need you.”

Squirming against the binds holding you in place, it feels good to meet the resistance. Now that you’re turned on it just makes everything feel better. The bull that found you was massive, but he wasn’t the one outside the door. That scent was new. Different from the soft reminiscent scent enmeshed in the shirt you were wearing.

“You’re a big strong bull, and I’m just a dripping little slut,” you keen, trying to shake your hips. “I’ll make the best sounds for you, if you’ll just fill up my pussy. Please sir, pleeeeease ♥.”

You whine and beg, calling yourself all manner of things, pouting and trying to convince whoever is on the other side of the door to come through and fuck the life out of you, but whoever it is they’re either not interested, or not able to come through the door. If you can’t get someone to come in and do what you need, then maybe they can at least give you a toy and let you satisfy yourself.

When the door finally opens it’s not a bull, but a small human woman. She’s older, and smells like medicine and cleaner. You’d been around this combination enough to know.

“Doctor,” you say, trying to ease up on the needy huff in your voice. “Please, I know I’m a little bruised, but I need you to bring in one of the bulls here. Please.”

She doesn’t look at you right away, checking the monitors that are in the room first.

“Your more than a little bruised,” she says finally. “You can call me House, can you tell me who gave you those bruises?”

Your stomach knots. “My… my husb- no, the farmer, I meant the farmer.” You can’t match the look she’s giving you.

“Did he tell you to call him husband?” House asks, and after a moment you nod quietly. “Will you tell me who he is?”

You shake your head. “No! No, you’ll send me back, and I - I don’t want to! I want to stay right here and have my first bull in years. I’ve been good, I have.” You nearly sob. The need was starting to ache and you were already desperate for relief. “Please, please I’m a good girl, I won’t run again. Just that time, just the once, because I was scared, but not again, I promise! You can leave me in this thing all the time, just please let someone in here-!”

House puts a hand over your mouth and the action startles you into silence.

“I’ll let someone in, only if you tell me the farmer’s name.” There’s a look on this woman’s face that makes your stomach go cold. “I promise you, little heifer, I will not return you to him. No one knows you’re here so far, and we’ll keep it that way, but I will leave you in here to endure this estrus without the slightest bit of relief, unless you tell me his name.”

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes. Something pricks at the small hairs on the back of your neck and you’ve immediately decided this woman is the most dangerous person you’ve ever met.

“Promise,” you press your lips together before you force yourself to look at her. “Promise, you’ll keep me here.”

“I promise.”

“… Urashima.” You say after a moment. “Ha… Harite farm.”

House pats your shoulder in thanks, and then pulls out a syringe. Your wide eyes go from it to her.

“Think of it like medicine.” She says, rubbing her hand down your back to soothe you. “It’s going to make it so that you can’t move. You’ll feel everything, and you’ll be able to talk and breathe, but you won’t be able to move or tense.” She explains, and you don’t even feel the prick of the needle, but you can feel a cold sensation at the middle of your back.

“I don’t know how bad your injuries are,” House explains, her hands on either side of your head as she helps you set it back into the ring pillow. “I’ll let Kid come in here and help you through your heat, since I promised, but I don’t need you exacerbating your injuries. Stay like this, and I promise you’ll get through your heat just fine.”

You hear the door open and there’s a scent that slams into you so much you whine. It’s already hard to try and move anything, but your cunt throbs all on its own.

“If he loses himself, Killer,” House says, her voice getting softer as she walks away from you. “Shoot him.”

“What the fuck!?” One voice bellows.

“Aye aye, ma’am.” Another replies.

“You prick.” The first snarls.

“Tranquilizer.” The second voice clarifies, and you can hear the sound of something shifting, like he’s holding up a dart gun.

“Tch.” The gravelly voice seems familiar, and you can feel his presence filling up the room. “Certainly a different view from the last time.” He says, voice dripping with hunger as much as you’re sure his cock is.

“Please,” you whine, barely able to twitch your fingers and toes even though you can still talk. “Please I’m a good whore, so please fuck me sir.”

“Fuckin’ listen to you.” He husks, hands gripping the breeding rig you’re locked into. “No wonder Kill was struggling out there.”

“F-fuck me hard, sir, please, I can take it. I can,” you sigh, feeling his tip press against your slit.

“I bet you squirm real good.” He growls. “My name’s Kid, little heifer,” he husks, two thick fingers pushing into your dripping cunt. The sensation feels so good already you moan. You want to wriggle and kick for him, but even if you weren’t immobilized, you were still strapped in snugly.

“I want to hear you thank me when you cum,” he commands and you try to nod before remembering why you can’t.

“Yes, yes sir, I will sir, thank you. Thank you Kid, please, please fuck me, please fill my tight pussy,” you husk the words, desperate to push back on him.

The head of Kid’s cock pushes into you, stretching you more than his fingers. You suck in a breath at the sudden sensation, whining as he rocks back and forth just a little before pulling back out. Before you can start begging he pushes his fingers back in, cold lube making you suck in a breath. He scissors his fingers, warming up the cold liquid before pulling them back out.

“Fuck that shit’s cold.” He grouses, grunting as his hips smack up against your ass.

It takes a second for you to realize that he’s hilted inside you, the lewd sound of slick and lube dripping onto the floor.

“Holy shit.” You murmur in shock, feeling your pussy throb, ache, and nearly spasm in orgasm all at once.

“Heh, yeah,” Kid pulls back and then pushes slowly back in. He hilted the first time, but he’s keeping a steady pace now, pulling out and pushing in just fast enough to let the excess slick dribble out of you. “Fuck you are soaked. I don’t think I needed all that lube.”

“M-More, please, more. Fuck me more,” you gasp, the desperate knot in your stomach coiling even if your body couldn’t tense with it. “I want it, I want you, please!”

“Yeah, thanks Kill.” Kid husks, pausing his motion for a second until you feel something nestle up against your clit. “Lets get her through this so she can rest.”

The vibrator turns on and sends sweet thrills into your clit while Kid resumes taking you. He’s moving a little faster than he had been before, but he’s not fucking the air out of your lungs by any stretch. The combination feels really good and it’s becoming a little frustrating that you can’t move.

You can see someone kneel in front of you, but since you can’t lift your head, all you can see are the tops of his thighs. Dusty jeans, tassels on the sides. Calloused hands come into your view and cup your breasts.

“You really brought that fuckin’ gun in here with you.” Kid grumbles as the other man fondles your breasts gently. The rough texture of his hands on your sensitive tits feels good and you can feel your nipples hardening.

“Yup.” Comes the reply from the one in front of you. The bull you could smell earlier. If his thighs were any indication he was just as huge as the other one. You’re pretty sure his name is Killer, between the doctor and Kid talking to him.

His tender caresses get a little heavier as Kid picks up his pace. You’re not saying much, mumbling broken thanks between moans. There’s no reason to beg them to go faster or harder, it’s obvious they’re doing exactly what they want. You had been begging to be used, so you had no reason to complain.

Plus, it felt incredible.

“Ah, I’m gonna cum, I think.” You sigh, as Killer begins to pinch and roll your nipples between his fingers. “Fuck, fuck, I’m going to kuh-cum, sir - Kid!” Kid’s hands grip your ass, one hot one cold, and you feel a wet, lubed thumb tease your ass. “Yes, please, use me, sir. Please, thank you Kid, I’m gonna, gonna!”

It was surreal. You could feel the sweet rush of release flood your body, but nothing tenses. Nothing spasms, and all you can do is moan and pant as the pleasure makes your blood rush, and heats your body. Neither of them stop and the sweet pleasure swells into something way more intense.

If your body could move, you’d be shivering. As it is all you can do is whine and moan, your nearly full paralysis making it so that you stay precisely where they want you, no matter how good you feel.

Drool drips from your tongue, slick drips from your cunt, as the second orgasm rolls your eyes back and breaks your body out in a sweat. Your voice cracks some semblance of a swear, before you manage to breathe in and sob as the overstimulation makes you desperate to be able to move. You’re going to pass out, if you cum again so soon on the heels of the first two, it’s going to hurt like hell and you’re going to pass out.

“Kid.”

“Yeah,” the relentless pleasure stops. The vibrations against your clit, the rough fingers on your nipples. Kid’s throbbing cock pulls carefully out of your gaping pussy, and after a couple seconds you can feel yourself finally start to come down.

“You didn’t ask us to stop,” Kid husks. You can hear him stroking his wet cock.

“Never,” you sigh, somehow managing to relax into the rig even more. “Can’t… ever.” There’s silence from the other two as you take a moment to come down even more, letting you have the chance to speak. “I’m… I’m a whore. I’m a good whore. You can fuck my ass and my mouth and I can take it.”

“I… I like it,” you assert, and on some level you did. Orgasms felt really good, and Kid’s cock made you cum so hard you wanted to feel it again, but no one cared about whether or not a whore came. Even if she was a, “good girl. I’m a good girl. I like being used. It’s…

“Okay… if I don’t…” A heavy drowsiness was settling into your mind and even though your pussy still throbbed with need, you were too exhausted to stay awake.

#x reader #reader insert #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #killer one piece #heat one piece #wire one piece

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howlsofbloodhounds · 11 months ago

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(cw: suggestive)

i want to write something about killer and color's soul thingy, but the kink talk has completely derailed me. now all i can think of is "haha, killer has a vore kink" OH MY LAWD 💀💀💀

and like, i'm mildly (MILDLY) entertaining this train of thought. because i remember reading somewhere that people with a vore kink fantasy don't actually want to do that irl, but the act of being enveloped/consumed by an entity feels very symbolically akin to being held in safety and intimacy. what's more intimate than being enveloped by a being you desire and trust? the idea of "becoming one" with someone is really, really intimate. imagine being whole, because you feel so fractured. you feel like you're missing something, parts of yourself, parts of other people, and now being fused with another being, a being bigger and more whole than you, makes you feel more complete than ever. i say it's very romantic, somewhat in-line with the ancient greek idea of soulmates.

and i think color may disagree with that idea lol. giving all of yourself up to someone is not equivalent to true happiness. you cannot sustain yourself on one type of love forever. you cannot fully heal until you learn to love yourself, to accept that your broken shards are you.

~ crowshipping anon

I had to stop and stare for a moment because huh? Killer? Vore kink? What.

Then i did a little research, like 19 minutes at most and will probably do more later, but now im actually thinking about it.

if killer ultimately craves safety and this is the one way that felt safe and familiar before, and color is powerful and not chara or nightmare and wont use this sense of enmeshment to hurt (which he wouldn’t and killer eventually learns to realize that even if he never fully manages to trust or get close with another to this extent), then i can see this being a particularly strong fantasy of his; especially when the means of making it reality is potentially right there.

i wonder if he’ll feel pleased if it were to actually happen, or if the knowledge that its just fantasy and color doesn’t agree and wouldn’t likely agree to a literal fusion or absorption—or a “vore” is a word—is what makes him feel safe and secure enough to think about it. i wonder what are ways color could indulge him a bit even if they don’t ever actually do it and work towards a more healthy view on relationships and love, even if killer still ultimately keeps his fantasy/kink.

ah nice going crow now you got me thinking about vore kink killer 😞. why do I actually wanna hear more about this

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hellomystraightlacedfriend · 1 year ago

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The Osborns' 'Weird' Relationship: An Analysis

◇ Spectacular Spider-Man #146 - Gerry Conway/Sal Buscema ◇

Okay, so I know it was awhile ago that I said I might write an analysis of some of the emotional dysfunctional aspects of 616 Norman and Harry Osborn’s relationship, but I really struggled with the format and how I was going to present this.

One thing that I ended up having to do was throw out any speculation on the writers' intent. With comics, you have so many different writers - especially with a long ongoing, popular series like Spider-Man - that I decided to focus a lot more on the patterns I was picking up when I was reading.

But before I go any further:

CW: discussions of child abuse, mental illness, and suicidal ideation

Disclaimer: In this analysis, I am trying to provide an explanation for why Norman might behave the way he does. However, this explanation of Norman’s abuse is not meant to be a justification of his behaviour.

Also, before we start, you are absolutely allowed to disagree with this analysis! Every reader sees/interprets things a little differently, but I've seen other people pick up on the Osborns' relationship being well, strange, so I decided to examine that a little closer.

There were certain things I kept noticing in Norman and Harry's relationship that I found abnormal (you know, apart from Norman's extensive verbal abuse). Things like: Harry's really intense and misplaced loyalty to his father (that interfers with his other relationships.) The way in which Harry feels responsible for his father. The way Harry doesn’t have a strong identity outside of his father, and how his father doesn't allow (or think Harry needs) any emotional privacy. Also, just some of the ways Norman talks to his son don’t make it feel like a normal parent-child relationship.

In particular in this analysis, I did want to talk about emotional incest and enmeshment, which I am going to define now.

The psychological definition of emotional (or covert) incest is when a parent relies on their child for emotional support that they should be getting from another adult. They treat their child like a friend or partner, instead of well, a child.

And

An enmeshed family is one where there is a lack of boundaries, and often, the child isn't allowed to have an individual identity.

I think we see a lot of the after affects of this kind of emotional abuse in Harry as an adult, and while we don't see a whole lot of Harry and Norman's relationship dynamic when Harry is growing up, I do want to start from there, using what flash backs and other information we have.

Actually to give some background on why this kind of abuse occurred, I will go back a bit further than that and talk briefly about Norman’s childhood and his relationship with Harry’s mother.

Norman definitely didn't have a great childhood. His father was a bitter and abusive alcoholic who blamed all of his problems on other people, including his son. And while Norman's mother wasn't abusive towards him, she did fail to protect him. This betrayal from an early age from both his parents would have been a huge contributer to Norman's extensive trust issues (and his drive to be in control so he's not hurt again.)

Norman didn't get the emotional support and attention he needed while growing up, so that's really what he was seeking as a young adult, and he found it in Emily Lyman aka Harry's mother.

Now while I don’t think that Norman and Emily's relationship was perfect like he presents it to be, I do think from his point-of-view this was a great time in his life. He was finally out from under his father's thumb. This beautiful woman believed in him. They had their whole lives ahead of them. The possibilities were endless, and then - she died.

Or faked her death and left him because he was so controlling.

Either way, she was gone, and he still a young man was left to go on as a single father.

Interestingly, Norman both blames Harry for Emily's death and compares him to her. Much later in his life, when talking to Harry's grave, Norman says that he tried to be fair to Harry 'even though you were so much like your mother in so many ways.' In this scene, Norman is angry at Harry for dying and thus 'abandoning' him to be alone. And I think that's what Norman felt when Emily died too, this deep sense of abandonment.

◇ Spider-Man: Revenge of the Green Goblin #1 - Roger Stern/Ron Frenz | Peter Parker: Spider-Man #44 - Paul Jenkins/Humberto Ramos ◇

(Later, it's revealed that Harry is not dead. Or maybe he is. I am NOT getting into the whole post-OMD-Harry-is-a-clone mess. For the sake of this analysis, they are the same person. They would have the same memories anyway.)

Now I am going to be piecing some things together and doing a bit of speculating. One thing that always stuck with me is that Harry keeps saying that his and Norman's relationship used to be different, that they used to be 'pals,' and then something changed. While I know a lot of people dismiss this, become Harry is delusional about his father at other points, I do think when Norman became the Green Goblin, there was a shift in their relationship dynamic, and Norman stopped opening up as much to his son.

I still absolutely think Norman was a neglectful and preoccupied father, but I also think that Norman was an emotionally needy person, and once Emily died, Norman (who was most likely extremely depressed and lacking a support system) tried to have Harry meet some of those needs. I say tried to, because Harry was just a little kid, a baby, and he wouldn’t be capable of doing that.

I think a lot about a panel from Spectacular Spider-Man #178 where Harry is talking to his own son Normie Osborn. Normie is a very young child/toddler. While Harry is talking to Normie, and Normie is watching TV, Harry starts hallucinating that his father is in the room. (Both Harry and his father have had psychotic episodes.)

Norman tells Harry that Normie should be listening to Harry, and when Harry says that Normie is just 'a little guy' and 'doesn't really understand all this,' the Norman Sr. hallucination becomes angry and says that Harry was just the same. That Harry was lost in his own head when he was young, and couldn’t hear when Norman talked to him.

◇ Spectacular Spider-Man #178 - J.M. DeMatteis/Sal Buscema ◇

It's interesting the way Norman and Harry differ here. Harry wants his son Normie to be able to enjoy these early years and have this chance to be carefree. Whereas Norman doesn't seem to really understand the concept of childhood and childhood innocence.

I also find it interesting (because I'm obsessed with word choice) that both Norman and Harry use 'pals' to describe their relationship.

◇ Amazing Spider-Man #39 & #40 - Stan Lee/John Romita Sr. ◇

And just in general, Norman and Harry's relationship doesn't seem to fall into the typical parent-child relationship - where the parent takes care of the child and meets the child's emotional needs. Instead, it's more complicated and codependent.

Norman and Harry both view Norman as Harry’s provider and protector. Norman is abusive towards Harry, but he does show deep concern about Harry's safety and worries about what would happen if he (Norman) suddenly died - because he's afraid Harry wouldn't be able to fend for himself.

On the other hand, Norman really doesn't give Harry any tools to become independent or encourage a separate identity, and I think part of that is because subconsciously - as much as he keeps saying he wants Harry to be strong - Norman actually wants Harry to be dependent on him.

Like on one level Norman does want Harry to be strong and be able to think for himself, so that he can take over the company and continue the Osborn legacy (and he is angry at Harry and verbally punishes him for not living up to this). But on a more personal - and like I said before subconscious - level, I do think that Norman wants Harry to have to rely on him. Because Norman doesn't want Harry to be able to leave him. Because he doesn't want to be alone.

And that's the thing, I do think that Norman is also dependent on Harry.

Harry is the nurturer to his father's protector and provider. He cares for and worries about his father a lot, and as much as Norman does not like to be seen as weak, there are quite a few moments where we do see Norman be vulnerable around his son.

Why this happened is probably largely circumstantial. Norman is a very paranoid man, who constantly fears betrayal from those around him. Even with the other adults in Norman's life who he is 'close' to - like J Jonah Jameson and George Stacy, he is not open. He does not trust them. He thinks that people are conspiring against him. However, he doesn't see his young son as a threat, as someone who could turn against him and hurt him. And he pulls Harry into this emotional isolation with him by telling his son not to trust anyone but his family (anyone but Norman.)

◇Amazing Spider-Man #62 - Stan Lee/John Romita Sr. || Amazing Spider-Man #47 - Stan Lee/John Romita Sr. || Amazing Spider-Man #67 - Stan Lee/John Romita Sr. || Spectacular Spider-Man #200 - J.M. DeMatteis/Sal Buscema◇

That puts Harry in a very difficult position, because he has deal with these adult concerns at such a young age, and he also can't fully open up to anyone else. This strain, along with Norman's exacting standards and scathing criticism, puts a lot of pressure of Harry.

However, Harry is used to being his father's confidant, and he becomes extremely anxious if his father shuts him out - or worse if he doesn't know where his father is. In a way, as much as Harry says that his father is strong and great, I think (at some level) Harry must also see his father as (emotionally) fragile.

This is especially noticeable in Amazing Spider-Man #121, where Harry is supposed to be resting because he has just overdosed, but he can't because he's so worried about how his father will react to possible financial ruin. He goes to him, tells his father that he doesn't need to worry about him, that he can take care of himself, that he's just worried about his father. He then proceeds to collapse in Norman's arms because he is not well.

◇ Amazing Spider-Man #40 - Stan Lee/John Romita || Amazing Spider-Man #61 - Stan Lee/John Romita Sr., Don Heck || Amazing Spider-Man #63 - Stan Lee/Don Heck, John Romita || Amazing Spider-Man #121 - Gerry Conway/Gil Kane ◇

This collapse leads Norman to want to rid Peter Parker/Spider-Man from his life (by killing Peter), because he falsely blames Peter for Harry's drug overdose and also the collapse of Osborn Indistries.

Now Peter’s involvement in the Osborns' personal lives is interesting. Peter is the first person that Harry really opens up to outside of his father - when Harry breaks down and complains that his father had been very distant in the last few years. When Peter responds with the emotional support Harry had never gotten from Norman, Harry draws Peter further into his life by asking him to be his roommate. Harry’s demeanour toward Peter also becomes similar to his attitude towards his father, submissive and eager to please. (He even calls Peter 'sir' at one point when he's trying to get his attention - an address he uses towards his father.)

Peter, however, is so caught up in being Spider-Man that, like Norman, Peter often neglects his relationship with Harry. This leads Harry to be rather passive-aggressive. At one point, Harry offers to make Peter breakfast, but when he hears Peter locking his stuff up, he becomes insulted that Peter would think he would steal from him and storms off to see Norman instead.

This becomes an ongoing element, Harry being torn between Norman and Peter, and seeking love/support from both of them, but seemingly unable to get it.

Now I want to make it quite clear that Norman and Peter are not equally responsible here. Peter is Harry’s age and has troubles of his own. Norman should be acting as Harry’s father, but he really isn't, not emotionally anyway. He is meeting his son's material needs (to an excess), but he is emotionally neglecting his son while also emotionally burdening him with his own troubles. Plus Norman is constantly verbally berating Harry for failing to live up to his impossible expectations - leaving Harry feeling worthless and extremely depressed.

Harry takes drugs to cope with these negative feelings - first abusing prescription medication and then moving on to street drugs. There is even already a note of passive suicidal ideation here, as when Peter asks him how many pills he's taking, Harry's response is 'What’s the difference? Who counts?' (Amazing Spider-Man #97 - Stan Lee/Gil Kane.)

Now I refuse to believe that Harry doesn't understand that there's a possibility of overdose here: he's a chemistry (and business) major with a father who sells drugs for a living. He knows that it is a possibility. So, while he's not actively seeking to end his life, he also doesn't really seem to care if he lives or dies - as long as he can escape from his pain.

Harry does eventually overdose - and it's an overdose that leads Norman to go after Peter & also Peter’s girlfriend (and Harry's friend) Gwen. Norman blames all of Harry’s friends for his condition, but especially Peter. And Norman blames himself for failing to protect his son from them. He threatens to kill Gwen if Peter doesn't end his own life, and when Peter doesn't comply, Norman goes ahead with his threat - throwing Gwen Stacy off the George Washington Bridge. (Amazing Spider-Man #121 - Gerry Conway/Gil Kane.)

Peter (as Spider-Man) goes after Norman in revenge, and Norman ends up dying (albeit by his own glider and not Peter’s hand.) Harry eventually figures out that Peter is Spider-Man, and this leads him to think that his and Peter’s friendship wasn't real, that it was entirely a ruse on Peter’s part. That Peter was just getting close to Harry to close in on his father.

Harry ends up forgetting about Peter Parker’s secret identity after his first attack on Peter though, and so for years the threat of Harry's revenge remains dormant. However, even from 'beyond the grave' (Norman, um, kind of faked his death, but Harry didn’t know that) Norman still had a hold on Harry’s psyche.

One early warning sign of the return of Green Goblin might have been that Harry names his child both after his father and himself (Norman Harold Osborn), keeping their names (and identies) close together. Harry also tells young Normie how special a man his grandfather Norman Osborn was. Then Harry begins to hear his father's voice telling him to revenge his death, to kill Spider-Man/Peter Parker.

Harry goes back and forth on how he sees his father. At times, he is able to see his father as who he really was/is, a dangerous criminal who ruined his own life. However, at other points, he calls Norman 'wonderful' and 'the greatest man this world has ever known.' He claims that his father's spirit is in him fuelling all his efforts, and blames Peter for both Norman's and Gwen's deaths.

Of course, it would be hard for anyone to admit that their father killed one of their closest friends, however, I think with Harry it goes even beyond that. Because Harry doesn't have a solid identity outside of his father, he is unable to fully see himself and his father as two separate people. So, in his head, Harry can't admit that his father killed Gwen, because then he would also have to think that he killed Gwen - something I don't think that Harry can wrap his head around doing. It's easier then to blame someone else - Peter/Spider-Man.

When Harry does finally admit that Norman killed Gwen, he still absolutely thinks (pretty understandibly) that it was Peter who ended Norman's life. Because of this, Harry decides that both he and Peter would be better off dead - and that their deaths would protect their loved ones from further harm.

It is only an outpouring of unconditional love from Peter (something Harry had never really felt before) that sways Harry from ending Peter’s life. He carries Peter out of the building where he had set up a timed bomb, but then seemingly dies himself (from side effects of the serum he'd taken to make himself stronger.)

🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻

Break!

🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻🌷🪻

Okay, this is here because this is getting long, but I don’t want to make it a two-parter, but also sometimes people need to take a break and breathe, you know?

I will also be concentrating more on post One More Day Harry in this section, though referring back to earlier comics as well. I will also be talking more about sex and romantic relationships, and how Harry's focus on his father (and Norman seeing himself as the most important person in Harry’s life) complicates things.

The Dan Slott and Joe Kelly runs leading up to and during Dark Reign were the first Spider-Man comics I read, and these were the issues where I first got to see the Osborns' relationship on page. What really struck me then about the relationship was how Norman talks to Harry more like a separated spouse than his grown child: 'I need you,' 'the world could be ours,' 'come home,' 'your place is here, by my side.'

During this period, Harry is pulling away from his father and trying to be independent, and Norman does not like this at all. He mocks Harry’s business ventures, then bombs Harry’s place of business - almost killing Harry’s then girlfriend Lily Hollister in the process. When Harry goes to confront him, Norman says that girlfriends are replaceable and tries to win Harry back. This, however, does not work, and shortly following this, Harry goes no contact.

Norman will not accept this boundary, however, or any boundary really. He admitted earlier to recording and listening to all of Harry’s therapy sessions, and when Harry won't answer his calls or letters, Norman has people spy on his son and report to him on everything Harry is doing. He then gets himself invited to a wedding that Harry is attending.

This is when he tells Harry that he needs him, something that does visibly affect Harry. Peter steps in between Harry and Norman, and tells Norman 'and that's what therapy's for.'

This scene is interesting because Norman does not like admitting that he needs other people, but also because Peter doesn't consider this (entirely) as a ploy on Norman’s part. He does think that Norman is being honest about 'needing' Harry. He just thinks that the way Norman seeks support from his son is unhealthy.

There is also an 'us'-ness in the Norman-Harry relationship, that is more typical of couples. This along with how Harry is thrust into this nurturing role with Norman, makes him (at times) seem more like his father’s spouse than his son.

And when Harry and Norman do end up cutting ties, Harry even says: 'I was never your son.'

◇ Amazing Spider-Man #573 - Dan Slott /John Romita Jr. || Amazing Spider-Man #595 - Joe Kelly/Phil Jimenez || Amazing Spider-Man #598 || Writer: Joe Kelly/Artists: Paulo Siqueira & Marco Checchetto || Amazing Spider-Man #599 - Joe Kelly/Stephen Segovia, Marco Checchetto, Paulo Siqueira ◇

This relationship with his father - before the eventual break up - does also lead to problems in Harry’s romantic relationships.

Because Norman basically sees himself as the centre of the universe and because he is very possessive of the people around him, Harry grew up internalising this idea that he belongs to his father and that he should prioritise Norman above everything else.

And because of this, Harry does tend to elevate and choose his father over his other relationships. Like how when he was seeing Mary Jane Watson, that relationship ended because Harry wouldn’t unlock the door for her - choosing to be alone with his dead father's costume over being with her. His marriage with Liz also deteriorates as Harry obsesses over avenging his father's death and continuing the Osborn legacy.

Of note, in these moments Harry isn't exactly thinking clearly - there are definitely signs of psychic breaks, with Harry having delusions and hallucinations. Still, a huge part of Harry's psyche is consumed by his father - to the detriment of other aspects of his life.

Even after Harry sees Norman as a bad person (acknowledging that his father was Gwen's killer and knowing for sure that Norman has committed countless other heinous crime), Norman still has a hold over his son. Harry still holds out hope for winning his father's love and approval - and completely dismisses his then girlfriend Lily Hollister's encouragement and support. Instead focusing entirely on his father's criticisms.

◇Amazing Spider-Man #595 - Joe Kelly/Phil Jimenez || Amazing Spider-Man Family #4 - J.M. DeMatteis/Val Semeiks || Amazing Spider-Man #390 - J.M. DeMatteis/Mark Bagley◇

◇Amazing Spider-Man #126 - Gerry Conway/Ross Andru || Spectacular Spider-Man #189 - J.M. DeMatteis/Sal Buscema || Amazing Spider-Man #569 - Dan Slott /John Romita Jr.◇

Another thing involving Lily Hollister - a rather controversial decision - was to have her be in sexual relationships with both Harry and Norman Osborn (with the timing being so close together that the paternity of her child was called into question.)

I actually don't think it's so surprising that Norman would go after someone his son was seeing. He is very self-centred and delusion enough to think that he could somehow get away with it.

Also, back in Amazing Spider-Man #96, there was this whole thing about Harry bringing along Norman to watch the girl he was then seeing - Mary Jane Watson - dance. It kind of comes across like Harry is trying to impress his father with how hot his 'girlfriend' is, and Norman is quite publicly enchanted by her.

There is something similar in the Raimi adaption where Harry Osborn wants Mary Jane Watson to dress in black (like Harry’s mother/Norman’s wife used to do) because he wants Norman to be impressed by her/find her attractive. Which people have pointed out is kind of weird/creepy.

Also kind of weird is just how much empathy Harry has towards Lily Hollister after she ditches him for his dad. Like yes, I think it's a coercive relationship, and Norman is much more to blame, but I still think most people would be a little more angry in this situation. And what Harry does say to Lily at the start of her and Norman's relationship is very interesting to me:

'He's an amazing man, Lily...I know, and he takes very special care of his "nice things"...until he doesn't.

I hope you see him for what he is before that happens...

Because when Norman Osborn is through with you, no one gets to have you.'

One) because it's really quite strange to call the father you suspect is sleeping with your ex-girlfriend 'an amazing man'

Two) because the way Harry is saying this makes it seems like it applies to both her and him. The 'I know' in particular stands out, because what he seems to be saying is 'I know exactly what you are feeling/going through right now.'

Which given that she is in 'romantic' relationship with his father certainly raises questions.

◇Amazing Spider-Man: Extra! #3 - Joe Kelly/Dale Eaglesham || Amazing Spider-Man #96 - Stan Lee/Gil Kane◇

In any case, I could probably write more, but this post is already more than long enough. I just find the dynamic between Norman & Harry Osborn fascinating because I don’t think it's one we see as often in fiction, and I love reading about dysfunctional families/relationships.

I also find post-OMD Harry really interesting, because I think it's even rarer to see a person, who was in a relationship like this, have to move on, fully cut ties, and figure out how to build a life for themselves without this person (who they had such codendency with.)

#harry osborn #norman osborn #analysis #spider man #peter parker #gwen stacy #liz allan #lily hollister #marvel comics #marvel 616 #my post

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sineala · 3 months ago

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18+ 616 Steve/Tony Discord Book Club: Civil War: Tie-ins, Part One

Here on You Gave Me A Home, we are still deeply enmeshed in our Book Club reread of Civil War. This is both so the participants in the Dodged A Bullet exchange can get some canon research done, and also because Civil War is one of the defining events of 616 Steve/Tony, and the one that really launched it as a ship. They love each other! They really do! But also sometimes they fight. Which is heartbreaking, because they love each other.

We read the main event last week, and now we're onto the tie-ins. Civil War has approximately two hundred (no, really) tie-ins. We will not be reading all of them. The current plan is to read about thirty of them. This is more than is strictly crucial -- I would say that there are about five to ten must-haves for Steve/Tony -- but we've got the time, and also I never reread War Crimes or the NA tie-ins when I reread CW and I forgot how good they were.

The current plan is to have three book clubs worth of tie-ins. The first two will be set during the war; the last one will be the aftermath plus some What Ifs. So for this first week, we will be reading a selection of tie-ins set during the war but that are in team books, anthology books, or other characters' solo books -- basically these are all comics that don't say "Captain America" or "Iron Man" somewhere on the cover but that are nonetheless relevant to understanding their characterization in this event. (The Cap and IM tie-ins will be next week.)

So we have nine books for you:

Civil War: Front Line #1

Black Panther vol 4 #18

Civil War: New Avengers (New Avengers vol 1 #21-25)

Civil War: War Crimes #1

Civil War: Front Line #11

If you decide you want to read all of Front Line, that'd be another nine books; this is not part of the official book club, but I support you.

This should give you a nice sampling of some of the rest of the themes of the Civil War event and how it affects other characters. Also Steve and Tony being sad and/or angry.

Come join us on You Gave Me A Home, an 18+ comics Steve/Tony Discord server! We are located at discord.gg/stevetony!

#posts i actually wrote #book club #stevetony

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sarah-scara · 1 year ago

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Shattered Relics

A new Overwatch grunt who isn't quite ready for the field finds themselves enmeshed with a sweet archaeologist who saves them from peril. Venture x reader, hurt/comfort, romantic by the end. CW for non-life threatening injuries. Word count: 3014

This is something I wrote primarily for myself as a result of my Venture obsession and as an experiment in first-person writing, but feel free to insert yourself into it too if you'd like. The reader is gender neutral, after all. Loosely based on Venture's animated intro.

---

As the sands near Petra came into view, the reality of joining Overwatch fully hit me for the first time. It was possible, albeit difficult, to repress the anxiety in the training simulations. Here, thousands of miles from home, it simply wasn’t tenable anymore. I approached the front lines, where Overwatch soldiers were in conflict with Talon operatives attempting to steal a cache of precious artifacts. I wasn’t high rank enough to know any details about the artifacts, but the higher-ups seemed confident that their security was a critical task for Overwatch.

I repeated what I had to do in my head. Steady grip. Careful aim. A bullet whizzes past my head. Shit. Shit. I’m going to die. I drop the gun, falling to my knees in the sand. I knew this was a bad idea. I could hear shouts, but I couldn’t make out any of the words. Another bullet impact, far above me this time, followed by a horrible crack. I’m only able to look up for a moment before a shard of rock hits me, and consciousness fades.

---

The first thing I noticed on waking up was the red sandstone ceiling above me, followed by my surroundings. I was lying on a sleeping bag in a small cavern, next to a tent and unlit fire pit. Definitely not where I was earlier. Well, I’m not dead. The next thing I noticed was the intense pain shooting through my body.

“Ow. Fuck. Ow.” I couldn’t restrain myself from shouting aloud to no one in particular. To my surprise, there was a response.

“Oh!” An exclamation, far too chipper for the situation, came from nearby. “You’re awake! I was starting to worry you were gonna be history.” A mop of messy brown hair mixed with sand, dirt, and a pair of extremely scuffed goggles came first out of the tent, followed by the rest of the strange person.

I was dazed. “Who… are you… with Overwatch?” My speech unsteady, I tried to sit up. Sharper pain shot through my legs. I winced and fell back down.

“I, uh, wouldn’t do that.” The strange person frowned. “You got beat up pretty bad.” They reached out a hand for a shake before realizing my position couldn’t accommodate such an action, sheepishly retracting it. “Sloan Cameron. I’m with the Wayfinder Society.”

I managed to pull myself together at least enough to hold a conversation. “So what am I doing here, I guess is my question.” I asked flatly, still stunned.

“Oh! Well that’s easy to explain!” Sloan’s eyes lit up. “So. We’re here at Petra trying to find some cool artifacts. I’m here, drilling away-” They gestured to the incredibly large drill resting beside their tent. “And I hear a bunch of commotion outside. I try to ignore it, but some Talon goons break in looking for any of our finds, so Venture jumps into action!”

I smirk. “Venture?”

Sloan glances away, embarrassed. “It’s uh, my codename. I think it’s cool. Anyway, I drove them out of the digsite and decided to help out the Overwatch fighters get rid of the rest of those Talon jerks.” The word wasn’t harsh, but their glare and tone made their hatred clear. “Oh! And then I spotted someone trapped under a rock. That would be, uh. You. And I couldn’t bear to leave someone injured there, so I carried you back here!”

“Thank you. I-” My incoming apology is cut off by a cough.

“Here.” Sloan lay a gentle hand on the nape of my neck, propping up my head and pouring water into my mouth. I hadn’t realized how dry my throat was - I wasn’t used to the desert. Their hand was rough, calloused from the hard work of excavation, but it still gave a tender, caring touch. My eyes fixated on their other hand, clutching the flask of water, and I slowly moved my gaze along their arms. Nicely toned - can’t be easy lugging around a drill that size. They were able to carry me, too, so they must be pretty strong…

“Ay. Eyes up here.” Sloan said sternly. When I met their eyes with mine, they gave another wide smile. “Figured if you were staring you’d at least want to see my famous smile.” One of their front teeth was chipped, but it didn’t affect the infectiousness of their joy one iota.

Caught red-handed, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of shame, even if they didn’t seem to mind that much. I finished the last of the water and let my head hit the sleeping back again. “So… Venture? Uh… Sloan?” I said, ending off with a lilt of uncertainty.

“Either’s fine!” They cheerily replied.

“Good to know. So, what about those artifacts you’re protecting?”

“Aha! You didn’t doubt Venture, did you?” They rummaged through their pack, furrowing their brow for a moment before triumphantly retrieving a small golden object with the face of Anubis. “This little ushabti is something I’ve chased for a while. It used to be in Cairo, but now it’s here in Petra. Now, you might notice that it’s shaped like Anubis. I’m not sure why it was brought here of all places, but I have some theories-” They stopped suddenly. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“No! Go on, I like your enthusiasm.”

“Really? Most people outside of the Society get bored. Anyway, I think there must be some kind of group here worshiping Anubis. I don’t have any proof of it yet, but why else would they bring it here?” They put a hand on their chin. “I guess they could just be thieves, but that’s way less fun.”

“Well, if you’re able to fight against those Talon soldiers, I assume you’ve got the wherewithal to deal with whatever horrible curses you’ll dredge up by disturbing a ritual site.” I joked.

“Oh my gosh. Do you think it’d be cursed? That would be so cool.” Their eyes were wide, lit with excitement. “I shouldn’t keep you up, though. You should really get some more sleep. I’ve called some of my colleagues back at base camp. They’re gonna come by and get you later tonight and take you back to get some actual medical attention.”

“Are the other Wayfinders like you?”

Sloan laughed. “No, they’re much more serious. They let me do my own thing.”

My mood soured, and from Venture’s expression it was visible on my face. “That’s a shame. I was really enjoying listening to you…”

“Hmmm…” Their eyes wandered as they lost themselves in thought. “I mean, you’re totally free to stay in my room at the outpost if you can’t get enough of little ol’ me.” They shot a pair of finger guns along with a wink.

“I… I’d like that.” I said, eyes fluttering closed. “If it’s not too much of a burden.”

“Course not!” Even with eyes closed I could tell from their tone they were grinning. “It’s a date.”

---

The boundary between sleep and consciousness was thin. My body needed the rest, but my mind was sick of sleep. By the time I finally woke up fully, night had fallen. The air was cold, but a fire now crackled at the formerly ashen fire pit. I made an effort to sit up - a successful one, this time. Perhaps the injuries weren’t as severe as I’d thought?

“Howdy hey.” Venture gave a quick wave from beside the fire. They were now wearing a thick yellow jacket and seemed considerably more comfortable, though they had a fresh few markings of dirt on their face. “Glad to see you up. I made some tea; ya want some?”

I nodded, and they passed over a nondescript mug filled with an enchantingly warm tea. “I’m surprised you’re able to keep this from breaking. I mean you’ve got to move around so much in this line of work…”

“Oh, they break. That’s why it’s so boring and cheap.” They said. “Plus, it means that my bags always come back with pottery shards even if I don’t find anything!”

I laugh and take a sip. “Well, the tea inside is still nice. Thank you.”

“Of course! My culinary skills are second to none.” They laughed a bit before adding quietly, “They don’t let me cook back at base after the incidents.”

I paused for a moment, then continued to sip a bit slower. “You’ll have to tell me about that some time.”

“Aaaaaaanyway-” They said, cutting me off a bit. “Your, uh, low-tech medivac will be here soon, and I can show you around the Wayfinder Society Petra Forward Operating Base! Hope you can used to rooming with two other people though, it might get a bit cramped.”

“Two? I didn’t know you had a roommate. I hope it won’t be too much for them.”

“Ah, it’s really no worries. Rosetta loves people!”

---

The trip from Venture’s makeshift campsite to the Wayfinders’ larger outpost wasn’t too long, though the terrain meant it wasn’t exactly the smoothest ride. Still, it was worth it to avoid the whiplash of hot days and cold nights of the desert. The outpost was sterile and scientific, upsettingly similar to the Overwatch training simulations I’d grown to despise, but it was nice to be somewhere climate controlled for the first time in a few days.

“Here we are! Not much, but it’s mine. And now yours!” Sloan excitedly said upon us reaching their tiny room. Despite its size, it managed to contain a bunk bed and plenty of the archaeologist’s trinkets.

“You mentioned a roommate? Are they here?”

“Oh, Rosetta? Yeah, she’s over there.” Sloan pointed toward a nearby table.

Puzzled, I followed their finger. The table had a small rock with googly eyes stuck on. “Venture.” I said flatly.

They were grinning. “Anyway, I gotta go talk about my findings to the higher-ups. Feel free to get to know each other. I’ll be back later byeee-” They trailed off as they half-jogged away from the room. They really were a strange one.

“Well. Just you and me, Rosetta. How are you doing?” I asked, still harboring some strange belief that she might respond. She did not. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that a rock did not respond, but Venture’s attitude toward it gave me some pause, even if it was… unlikely. In lieu of a conversation with an inanimate object, I chose instead to view the baubles Sloan had chosen to bring along. It was a surprising amount for someone so nomadic, a table covered in rocks given less reverence than Rosetta, along with a few pictures stuck to the wall. There were a lot of pictures of Venture at the pyramids, smiling that wide smile that I had already become so fond of, along with a varied collection of other rocks. These didn’t seem to be given personalities, however.

I was still sore from my injuries, so I sat down on the edge of the bed and checked my phone. No messages. Of course. The rest of Overwatch probably thought I was dead. Probably for the best, as this might have technically been deserting. At least the signal was good. I flicked through social media idly. Nothing particularly interesting, but at least it was a distraction.

I lost track of time, and a quick knock at the door jolted me back to reality. It had been longer than I realized if they were already back. They gently opened the door and I immediately realized something was wrong. They were holding two ice cream cones, but their face was sunken.

“Want one?” They offered one of the cones to me, eyes staring straight down. I took it carefully, suddenly deeply concerned for them.

“Am I… causing trouble, Sloan?”

They shook their head, their mop of hair shaking with it. “It’s not you, don’t worry. I am just frustrated.” They flopped onto their bed, one hand raised to carefully protect their own ice cream. “Mind if I complain? I know you’ve dealt with a lot, but…”

I took a lick of my ice cream. “Go ahead. I want to know what happened.”

They sighed deeply. “I told my higher-ups about that ushabti I showed you. I told them that there had to be a deeper reason for Talon bringing it here. They looked me right in the eye and said I was being unrealistic; that it was probably just that Talon was stealing it to fund their activities.” They took a big bite out of their ice cream, then continued, voice quavering. They were on the verge of tears. “They don’t believe in me, y’know? They think I’m a kid. I’m twenty-six! I’ve been with the Society for ten years!” They winced. “Ow. Brain freeze.”

“Are you worried they’re gonna like, fire you?”

“Nah. Nobody else can fend off Talon agents like me, so my job security is really high. I just wish they’d believe in me.”

I thought for a moment. “Best way to get them to listen is to find some more proof.”

They sat up, trying to maintain their composure. “That’s what I was thinking. I didn’t expect anyone else to think it was a good idea. Usually people don’t.”

“I mean, I can’t exactly help directly… but I’d be happy to stay with you and provide whatever I can.”

“You can accompany me back to the dig site if you want. I’d enjoy the company at the very least.” They smiled bashfully. “Oh! We should probably wait until you’re healed, though.”

I took stock of my body. “A few more days should do me. I’m really not hurt as bad as I thought. Anxiety got to me, maybe.” I finished off my cone. “Do you guys get ice cream a lot here?”

“Nah, this is a treat since I had a bad day. I’ve got connections at the cafeteria.” They finished theirs as well. “Ice cream always makes me feel better. Working at an ice cream parlor was the only other job I’ve had. I was so excited that I could eat as much free ice cream as I wanted while on the job…” They sighed dreamily. “Turned out I couldn’t. I had just assumed that I could.” They grinned. “I got fired.”

---

A few more days of rest had me together enough to go out in the field. While Venture told me not to push myself and that they were fine waiting for me, I could tell in their eyes that they missed the digsite. There were other things I noticed about them, of course. The way their laugh sounded, their chipper greetings in the morning, the way their body curved in just the right ways…

It was worth spending the day in the hot desert sun, watching Sloan as they sunk deeper and deeper into the earth below them. Their beautiful hair was smothered by dust and sand, sweat pouring in rivulets down their face, goggles making impressions around their eyes. They were still beautiful, despite it all.

“SLOAN!” I yelled, trying to be heard, over the din of their excavator. “DO YOU WANT TO BREAK FOR LUNCH?”

Their excavator shut off, the drill spinning to a halt. They panted for a moment, then pulled off their goggles. “I uh…” They struggled to catch their breath. “If you need to, go ahead. I wanna go just a little bit deeper. The ground feels like it’s getting softer? It makes no sense.” They grinned. “I’ve gotta be close to a big discovery.”

I watched from a distance as they spun their drill back up, and slowly sunk beneath the earth into their current borehole. Slowly their head sank, and then they vanished, along with a scream. Shocked, I ran over and found the hole they were digging had collapsed into a much larger cavern.

“I’m okay!” Venture’s yell echoed from the bottom of the cavern. “Can you throw a rope down? There should be one in my bag.”

Trying to manage my panic, I hurried over to Venture’s bag and found a length of rope. I tied it to a nearby pole for the tent and threw it down the hole. “Sloan? Did you get it?” I shouted down. No response. “Venture?” Still hearing no response, I checked the strength of the rope. It was secure enough. I carefully climbed down, fearing the worst.

At the bottom of the pit, I began desperately searching for Sloan. It didn’t take long. They were standing in a strange glow, totally entranced by something ahead. I put my hand on their shoulder and saw it too. The far side of the cavern was dominated by a huge artificial structure, or perhaps a titanic Omnic - and it had the face of Anubis. I stood stunned.

After a brief moment, Venture broke the silence. “I knew something had to be here… I wonder, is this based on the Egyptian god, or the AI Anubis…” They trailed off for a moment before noticing my hand on their shoulder. “Oh! You’re here! I can’t take this. This has the potential to define my work for decades. I need to get more people out here. Gosh, there’s so many emotions.” Their eyes met mine. “I, um. Can I?”

I nodded silently.

They leaned in, cupping my face in their calloused hands. I wrapped mine around their shoulders, fingers in their messy, matted hair. It was not the most delicate kiss, but as I fell into their grip and let their lips meet mine, I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful one. They held on, squeezing me tight, backlit by the glow of their new find.

When they finally pulled away, eyes wide with joy, I managed to summon enough bravery to ask Sloan a question. “So, does this mean I can stay with you and the Wayfinders?”

They grinned. “It’s an unusual situation, but with a find like this, I’m sure they’ll be happy to keep you on as my special research assistant. And I’m happy to keep you on as my partner too.” Sloan said with a wink.

#venture x reader #venture overwatch #fanfic #overwatch #chloe writes

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arealphrooblem · 2 years ago

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A Good Roommate Is Hard To Find Part 2

I was blown away by the response to something I banged out without much thought.! I've received several asks about continuing this so here is part two! Thank you everyone!

Synopsis: Civilian has harbored a secret crush on his roommate for a long time, only to find out that said roommate is the newest villain on the scene during a robbery at his job.

Part one here

CW: named characters (juggling two unnamed male characters pronoun wise was just a huge headache)

“Salt?”

Ben stared at his roommate from across their tiny kitchen table. Two bowls of soup lay before each of them, accompanied by folded napkins and spoons and glasses of water. The formality instantly raised his hackles. Whatever happened to eating on the couch while they watched stupid youtube prank videos?

Fear and anger twisted and blended into each other until he didn’t know what was responsible for the maelstrom in his chest that the hot shower did nothing to calm down.

“How long?” he said instead.

It was the question that plagued him the most. Did this start before they met? Had Ben lived with a stranger in a mask this whole time? Or did it start later? Did something horrible happen to make Adam desperate enough to try villainy and could Ben have prevented it?

“How long has salt been around?” Adam asked blithely. “I don’t know. Probably at least a thousand years or more. Did the Romans use salt? You’re the history nerd, not me.”

“Don’t mock me,” Ben snapped. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Do you really want to know?”

What fucking kind of question was that? But Adam tilted his head to the side, the look in his eyes deadly serious.

“Because if I tell you,” he continued, “that could implicate you. Once you know, you can’t un-know. And Heroes have ways of making you talk. There’s no way they’d believe you didn’t help me all this time.”

So consumed with the fear of Adam himself, Ben never thought to be concerned with anyone else. Now a new fear dug its roots into him.

“There’s no way they’d believe it now,” he said, heart thudding again.

“They would if you were genuinely clueless.”

Or if I turned you in Ben thought. That was the other thought that had plagued him the last few days.

Now that he knew, what was he supposed to do about it?

“But I don’t intend on you talking to anyone about this,” Adam added.

Again, Ben’s hackles raised at the certainty in Adam’s voice. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“How would you stop me?”

He didn’t mean it as a taunt. He knew Adam was dangerous, but not how. Did Adam have powers or weapons? What plans did he have for Ben?

“You don’t want the answer to that question either,” Adam replied softly. “But know that I would, if I had to. I’m capable of anything when I know it’s my best option.”

The lump was back in Ben’s throat, making it hard to swallow. He could stomach the lying, even understand it a little. How do you tell your roommate that you’re the one behind all the recent robberies and arson?

And Ben could handle the crimes, for the most part. This city ate people alive and anyone not obscenely wealthy had one bad accident standing between themselves and homelessness. So far Adam’s crew had only targeted places with large payouts. They took hostages when necessary but had no casualties so far.

But the threats? The knife at his throat? The lack of hesitation before launching to dark promises of violence hurt Ben the most. Even without his stupid crush, they had become friends the last three years. Their lives had become enmeshed with each other’s in a domestic intimacy that went beyond two people who simply shared a space.

Adam knew his allergies and what restaurants to avoid because of it. He knew Ben’s parents and siblings. He knew Ben’s failed dreams and useless history degree. They shared shampoo and lonely holiday dinners and a Netflix account.

Ben thought he knew Adam the same way. But now all that had unraveled, and though he never harbored the hope that Adam could return his affections, seeing how easily Adam could threaten his life as if Ben never meant anything to him . . .

The knife would hurt less.

“What . . .” Ben swallowed again, his voice coming out choked. “What do you want me to do? I can move out. Leave the city.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up. “Leave? You can’t leave!”

Hope rose ever so slightly without Ben’s permission. But when had it ever listened in the first place?

“I can’t afford this apartment without you.”

And there it went, dashed on the rocks.

“Haven’t you been . . .earning extra income,” Ben asked hesitantly.

“Not enough to cover your portion of everything for more than a month or two. Besides . . .I only get a small percentage of the cut. I need you.”

Boy, would Ben have loved to hear that in literally any other circumstance.

“But I’m a liability now,” he protested.

“Are you?”

Adam got a certain look in his eye anytime they played strategy games. It didn’t matter what kind — Among Us, Monopoly, chess, Street Fighter. His mind always worked five steps ahead, thinking of contingency plans for contingency plans, and Ben knew when that glint showed up in Adam’s eye, he was about to lose. That he had lost long before he even realized it.

“Here’s the way I see it.” Adam leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “You hate living with your parents and you don’t want to leave the city. I can’t leave because I’m . . .in the middle of things. If either of us were to move out, we’d both have to find another roommate and the odds of us finding people that work as well with us as we do with each other is impossible. We would both be miserable.”

“You think I would be more miserable with a person who didn’t threaten me with a knife?” Ben asked.

And the answer to that question was yes, but Adam didn’t have to know that.

“What if they never turn the light on when they piss at night and get it all over the toilet?” Adam countered. “What if they eat the last of all your snacks or move their obnoxious girlfriend in or never empty the dishwasher before sticking their dirty dishes in?”

Objectively speaking, Ben would rather have a knife to his throat one time than deal with any of those on a constant basis.

“We know how to live with each other. We’ve developed a routine that has worked for years. This doesn’t have to change anything. It’s not like I haven’t been doing this for months while you had no clue anyway.”

“You will never trust me not to snitch,” said Ben.

“If I’m in jail, then how are you going to still live here with any kind of sanity? Better yet — if I’m thrown in prison because you ran your mouth, how are you going to be safe from retaliation from my boss or crew members? How are you going to avoid your own prison sentence for being an accessory? Is it worth your life to put me away?”

That last question hit him hard. He knew it was cowardly and stupid beyond measure, but he couldn’t bear the thought of blowing up the little life he’d carved for himself here. It didn’t amount to much, especially to his parents, but he loved it all the same.

“No,” he told Adam softly. “It’s not worth it.”

He loved his life and he loved Adam and he loved his life because of Adam and it all fed into each other like one writhing ouroboros.

Adam leaned back again, looking devastatingly smug. “I didn’t think so.”

“So . . .what now?” Ben bit at his lower lip, the nervous tell that always gave him away in poker. “What do you want me to do?”

“Eat your soup for starters.” Adam nodded at the bowl in front of Ben. “And then give me your phone.”

“My phone? What do you want with my phone?”

Adam leveled a flat look over the table. A look he shot at Ben frequently over the years when Ben made a particularly bad pun. He used to love making Adam give him that look. Now it felt tainted with an undercurrent of a threat.

“Eat your soup, Ben.”

Ben ate his soup. It came out great, almost as if they had just ordered it from the restaurant that inspired it. Adam didn’t cook often, but when it did it outshone Ben’s rudimentary skills. And when they both finished, Ben cleared the table, almost on autopilot, because the person who didn’t cook did the dishes. It was one of the first routines they established.

Usually Ben hated washing dishes which was why he volunteered to make dinner so often. Tonight however it offered a soothing distraction, much more effective than the shower Adam insisted he take. Right up until he felt Adam’s hands on his thighs, sliding up to the edge of his front pocket.

“What are you doing?” he yelped, dropping the spoon with a clatter.

“Looking for your phone.” Adam’s voice pressed right against the shell of Ben’s ear.

His fingers wriggled their way into the pocket, tight in old jeans Ben should have thrown out when he graduated. His breath stuttered in his chest at the intrusion, which lasted only a few seconds, and at the triumphant snort against his ear when Adam slipped the phone out.

He swallowed thickly, throat tight for a very different reason than before. Adam stepped back, the heat of him gone just as suddenly as it appeared. A glance over his shoulder showed Adam leaning against the stove, brow furrowed as he typed in Ben’s password. Because of course Ben had given it to him, thoughtlessly, for vague future emergencies.

“What are you doing to it?” he asked, nerves fluttering in the pit of his stomach. What if he didn’t get it back?

“Precautionary measures,” Adam replied distractedly. “I’ll give it back in the morning.”

“The morning?”

He spun around, soap dripping from his hands. Adam leveled another flat look at him.

“Do you want this to work or should I get another knife?” he said.

The blood drained from Ben’s face. His eyes darted over to the knife block, sitting just inches away from Adam’s hip. There was no way he could reach it in time — not that it would matter if he could. Clumsy and inexperienced, he’d only hurt himself and save Adam the trouble.

“I just . . .want to know what’s happening,” he said, eyes prickling for the second time that night, goddamn it. “You don’t have to keep threatening me.”

The cognitive dissonance of having Adam so carelessly threaten him, pulling a knife on him — Adam, his best friend that he lived with for years — felt like it could split his head apart. Life was starting to not feel real anymore, like he was in a video game instead. Or a nightmare.

Adam’s expression flickered, looking almost stricken, before Ben turned away. He rinsed what was left of the suds from his hands and then turned the water off.

“I’m going to bed,” he said, even though it was barely dark. “Keep the phone.”

Then he walked straight down the back hall to his bedroom. Adam called his name, almost too softly to hear, but Ben ignored him and shut the door.

He locked it too, for good measure. Not that it mattered. Sleep did not accompany him much that night.

Part Three

#villain x civilian #hero x villain #m x m #my writing #friends to enemies to lovers #writeblr #named characters #a good roommate is hard to find

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incesthemes · 8 months ago

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i'd love to talk about the themes of fate vs family in cw's supernatural with you :')

YOU'RE SO AMAZING THANK YOU

it's just. THE THEMES. like okay when i started rewatching supernatural i was just kind of vibing. my original goal was to see if i could uncover all of the godawful incest subtext in the show of which there is an abundance. but once i reached scarecrow my eyes were OPENED. it's all an allegory. there are only two choices in their lives and they are to follow their destinies or to to become toxic enmeshed brothers who will incite ruin upon the world.

because like the thesis of SCARECROW is the collective vs the individual. burkittsville is a community which cares for itself by sacrificing outsiders. emily is ultimately deemed an outsider and is therefore available to become the sacrifice, and when she protests she's considered selfish for wanting to save her own life. and the message scarecrow posits is that the collective is a dangerous thing; ergo, if sam and dean go down the path of the collective, if they choose each other, then they will create something destructive.

you see this theme, that community and collective is dangerous and destructive, in a couple other episodes too: the benders and croatoan (kind of, not entirely the point but it still exists), and maybe another but i'm just glancing over my notes atm. at the same time, there are episodes companion to these that propose that the individual route is the correct path (heart, asylum) and episodes that show the consequences of choosing the collective (faith, shadow).

and AT THE SAME TIME, many episodes give us the exact opposite conclusion: bugs, nightmare, playthings, born under a bad sign—all of these episodes suggest that the collective is the correct path instead, that turning to each other is what will ultimately create the best outcome.

most of the episodes, especially in the first two seasons, are primarily concerned with pitting the pursuit of destiny against the pursuit of brotherhood—aka, fate vs family. the show makes it clear that sam and dean can't have both. dean, from the start, is unsure at best about pursuing john's (and later sam's) revenge quest to find and kill azazel; therefore, when sam is hellbent on hunting down yellow-eyes (synonymous with his destiny), he's shutting dean out of his life and focusing only on his own goals. john outright gives dean his quest in 2x01 by warning that he may have to kill sam; therefore, sam is the object of dean's fate, and killing him is the direct realization of that destiny. they're cosmically destined to kill each other—it's a cain and abel story, but there's a twist.

which is, of course, that they have another alternative: they can abandon their fates and choose each other, relentlessly and obsessively. every decision they make that pulls them apart brings them closer to fate, and every decision they make that brings them together pulls them farther from destiny. it makes complete sense, then, that sam and dean are soulmates: because of that, they are instead given two destinies, which makes it possible for them to defy the angels and demons that created them to be enemies.

BUT THE THING IS!!!!!!!! the thing is that neither of these destinies are good. it's impossible to strike a balance between these fates because the stakes are astronomical. they either must give in completely to their destinies as michael and lucifer's vessels, or they must give in completely to each other, eliminating their individuality and becoming a cohesive unit. the show is a constant push and pull between these two outcomes, and the show elaborates extensively on why neither of these options are good. the collective brings ruin; the individual brings the apocalypse. they can escape one destruction of the self but not the other.

and then if you pull back and look at kripke era as a whole, you see some trends that support this, too: seasons 1 and 2 are largely about sam and dean choosing each other, walking away from fate and toward family (see: devil's trap, where sam literally abandons his revenge quest, synonymous with his destiny, to save john and appease dean; see: croatoan, where dean finally decides to abandon the quest john gave him and to "save" sam at whatever cost, which leads him to his questionable and unwavering faith in sam for the rest of the season). season 1 is about sam abandoning fate and choosing dean; season 2 is about dean abandoning fate and choosing sam.

then, seasons 3 and 4 are largely about the exact opposite. with all hell breaks loose, dean (at azazel's meddling) has restarted his fateful quest by making the selfish (the individual!) choice to become the righteous man and sacrifice himself for sam's life. thus until lucifer rising, the show is a downward spiral of sam and dean's relationship unraveling at the seams. they pursue their destinies alone and at the expense of each other. sam confides in ruby despite dean's reserves (aka, he lets someone else be more important than dean; he chooses himself over his brother). dean reacts more and more violently. where their relationship had progressed in season 2 such that they were no longer keeping secrets from each other, now seasons 3 and 4 are rife with them, both of them having concerns and fears about each other that they're reluctant to open up about. they objectify each other and ignore each other as people because they are too consumed with their own paths. and it culminates in the start of the apocalypse, the very fate they wanted so badly to avoid!

therefore season 5 is the resolution of these conflicts. it's the ultimate decision between fate and family, where they confront their broken relationship and seek to make repairs of any kind that will fix the mess. because their only options are The Apocalypse or a toxic, codependent relationship with their brother, it is only through the ultimate decision to value Brother over everything else that allows them to stop the apocalypse. sam is able to regain control because of his connection to the impala, his home (see: the pilot, where sam's quest is to return home), which is synonymous with dean as of season 2. dean stays there and lets lucifer beat the shit out of him because he chooses sam above himself, and if sam is gone then so is he. and in the end dean returns to lisa because sam told him to; he lives for sam, on behalf of sam, because he is just half of a whole.

god there's lots of other things i can say about this (apparently i have 65,000 words of notes on just 2.5 seasons of this show). almost every single episode is ultimately about this conflict, so there's a lot to elaborate on. but this is the gist of it... the overview of my notes. the thesis statement, if you will.

#supernatural #ask #i'm normal i'm normal i'm normal i'm normal i'm normal #thank you. thank you so much i'm feeling soooooooo normal right now #i feel like i didn't write enough and yet.#spn posting

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thistlecatfics · 3 months ago

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i know you obviously hate reg but what do you think of monty/reg or lyall/reg

oh anon, I'm very curious what makes you think I 'obviously' hate Regulus? (unless you're being sarcastic?) I'm definitely actively annoyed 90% of the time at how fandom treats him as the mostest specialest baby boy who has never done anything wrong ever and how obsession with him tends to overlap with all the things I find most irritating in fandom, but I'm fascinated by him as a character, and I love writing him!

The fic I've written which is the most frighteningly vulnerable little shard of my soul in two thousand words is a Regulus character study. He's such an amazing character to use to explore so many of my favorite themes -- family trauma, incest, enmeshment, class privilege, entitlement, fear, sporty eating disorders, suicidality, power and oppression, how supremacist systems actively hurt even those placed in the superior category etc. I think he's such a deeply flawed person, and I see myself in him -- definitely some of the worst things about myself, but that's why he's so cathartic for me to write.

But! That's not what you asked. Monty/Reg & Lyall/Reg thoughts under the cut. cw for underage, grooming, alcohol abuse, incest/CSA, suicidal thoughts

Monty/Reg:

So I'm imagining a Black-brothers-run-away-together AU. Maybe no Voldemort? And now Sirius and Regulus are living in his house. Sirius is always off with James, utterly tied at the hip, loud and boisterous and always laughing. But then there's the younger brother, dark curls and nervous hands and so damn eager to please. Monty knows awful things happened in that house to those boys. They've run away for a reason.

The nature of some of that awfulness starts to take shape in his mind as Regulus touches him a little too long a little too often and seems hurt and surprised when he pulls away. The hurt on his face kills Monty. He just wants to take care of him. And he wants --

He's not his son. And it would make the boy so happy. It's clearly what he's seeking. He's almost of age. Monty finds a thousand ways to justify it.

Gentle praise and touches and secrets and shame and acts of care that cross more and more lines. Regulus has never felt more whole; Monty has never felt more rotten.

Lyall/Reg:

I hc that Lyall tries his very best to be a good dad, but he can't stop blaming himself for Remus's lycanthropy and tried so long to fix him in really awful, painful ways which contributed to Remus's deep self-loathing. After Hope dies, he really falls apart and starts drinking very heavily. He still tries to be there for Remus, but he's incapable of doing so in a way that's actually meaningful.

I also hc that in his last year of life, Regulus is falling apart intensely - he's 'soft enough to believe them' but much too soft to handle what it means to be a Death Eater. After years of restriction and discipline and obsession, he's binge eating, binge drinking, trying potions, trying anything to silence his conscious. He wants to die, but he also wants his death to matter, and he's having a crisis of faith.

He and Lyall end up at the same pub, two despondent drunks at the end of the bar. Sex is a strong term for what they end up having, but it makes them feel a little less lonely, which is something.

#regulus black #monty x regulus #lyall x regulus #thistlecat asks

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wishcamper · 1 year ago

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All in the Family: ACOTAR and Bowenian family systems theory, PART I

CW: addiction, family trauma, dog death

Creds: licensed therapy person and member of a dysfunctional family

There’s a lot of parts to this and a lot I’m excited to explore, so we’ll start with an overview and introduction of some core concepts. I'm going to take a look at the IC as it's own family system, the subsystems within it, and what these dynamics tell us about the culture of the IC.

The Basics

Murray Bowen created Family Systems Theory to explain the interconnected dynamics and emotional patterns within families that can span generations.

All members play a part in how the system functions, through both action and inaction, and members influence each others’ behavior.

In dysfunctional systems, members project and displace their emotions onto others, feel responsible for the emotions of others, and/or cut off and suppress emotionally to avoid conflict and instability.

The same strategies tend to get used over and over.

Of note: there are many criticisms of this theory, including lack of depth regarding gender disparity, pathologizing of regular emotions, and a very Western (and ableist) goal of complete personal emotional independence. I have found Bowen’s techniques not very helpful in practice, but his ideas provide a great framework for conceptualizing how energy moves in a family and the interconnectedness of the system through generations. So, take all this with a grain of salt given those limitations and that these people are fictional and often contradictory in their words and actions.

Core Concept 1: Differentiation and Enmeshment

The main goal in Bowen’s theory is for all beings in the system to achieve differentiation, meaning they are able to hold onto their sense of self even when emotionally intimate with others. The opposite of differentiation is enmeshment, where members emotions are dependent on and influenced by one another in ways they are not aware of or have no control over. Some people also call this ‘codependent’, aka ‘we are both dependent on your stability to feel emotionally safe’.

Example: Partner A feels anxious taking off work for vacation, and tries to micromanage their family during the trip to attempt to relieve it. In a well-differentiated system, Partner B can recognize the behavior has nothing to do with them, and set a boundary about how Partner A engages with the family. “I appreciate that you’re stressed, A. I need you to figure out a way to handle it without being all over me and the kids.” The anxiety becomes Partner A’s to process instead of being displaced on the others.

In an enmeshed system, Partner B might mirror Partner A by micromanaging the children too, or monitoring themselves very carefully, or trying to create conditions that will not upset A. Partner A avoids dealing with their anxiety because everyone else is doing it for them. In an enmeshed system, members take inappropriate responsibility for managing the feelings of others.

In the opposite system, where emotions are suppressed to keep the status quo, Partner B may act like everything is fine, leaving the children to bear the brunt of the anxiety. B might retreat emotionally from the family and appear aloof or cold. The balance is the important part, because whatever the status quo, families tend to repeat the same emotional processes over and over in different situations, like variations on a theme.

These cycles lead to feedback loops:

Enmeshed: Partner A abuses alcohol and Partner B helps them cover it up. A is shielded from natural consequences of their drinking, and B is relieved of the fear of having to confront it and create conflict in the relationship. Both partners use the other to regulate their uncomfortable emotions.

Suppressed: Partner B leaves the room every time conflict arises, and never addresses it later. A stops bring up problems because B will leave anyway. Tension is never resolved because everyone is invested in pretending they don’t exist.

Core Concept 2: Triangles and Displacement

One of the most important concepts in Bowen’s theory is the power of the triangle. I’m going to go into this more later when it comes to Cass/Az/Mor, but within the IC we see a number of compelling triangles.

Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain

Cassian, Azriel, and Mor

Rhysand, Feyre, and everybody else lumped together

Bowen says triangles happen because they provide a way for dyads to relive unaddressed tension without direct conflict. We see this a lot in divorces with children, where parents will try to recruit the child to “their side”. Dyads can displace their conflict onto a third party, which provides emotional relief. Triangles are particularly compelling because the shifting of alliances is ongoing and can be used to access power and meet unmet needs.

Think about the Archeron sisters. There’s a certain power in being the two sisters closer to each other and not the one left out. Up through ACOWAR, Feyre often remarks on Elain and Nesta being the closer sisters, which Nesta leverages to protect Elain. Nesta communicates her anger at Feyre and the world she believes Feyre brought to them by directing it through concern for Elain’s safety, which Feyre is unable to argue against. We see the same pattern in ACOSF when Feyre and Elain are getting along, and how they use it as a tool to pressure Nesta into conforming. We are able to be close, so if you can’t it’s probably because there’s something wrong with you, so we don’t have to feel badly about you falling apart. Nesta becomes the scapegoat for unresolved guilt about the effects of the war.

In the Rhys-Cass-Az triangle, the goal seems to be more about enforcing the rules of the family as the ‘safe place’ for all of them. Pre-ACOTAR, after the Cass/Mor incident, Az and Rhys punish Cassian emotionally for breaking the dicks before chicks code that threatens the stability of their relationships. Conversely in ACOFAS, Rhys and Az agree not to tell Cass about the scope of Illyrian unrest to *checks notes* not ruin his Christmas. They externally manage Cassian’s emotions for him, and by extension their own worry, by leaving him in the dark (a favorite strategy of Rhys) so they can all have a nice holiday together, like they always do. Rhys says over and over he needs this happy time, then extends that need to everyone else and recruits Az to make that happen.

I’m not commenting on whether these triangles are healthy or unhealthy, just pointing out that they exist to leverage power and get needs met.

Core Concept 3: Homeostasis and the Nuclear Family Emotional Process

Tiny storytime.

When I was in college, my mom called me one day and said they put my dog to sleep the week before. I was devastated, and furious given it had been planned beforehand. I felt robbed of the opportunity to say goodbye in any meaningful way. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized this is the status quo in my family - we don’t look hard things in the face. We use avoidance as a strategy to not deal with our own and each others emotions. We don’t talk about dad’s drinking, or why mom is blank and locked in her own head, or my sister’s compulsive perfectionism, or my one-woman mission to self-destruct in as many ways as possible. We are a family of avoiders. We don’t talk about it. We don’t talk about it.

Bowen call this dysfunction the 'nuclear family emotional process' , and explains that there are four major patterns that emerge in families:

Marital conflict

Dysfunction in a spouse

Impairment of one or more children

Emotional distance

These patterns can and do play out at the same time, to varying effects. The particular combination a family has dictates where and when problems tend to arise in the system, and how they're dealt with.

As an adult, I’ve tried really hard to break out of the pattern of my family. Through my own darkness and recovery, I’ve worked to honor my own needs and emotions as valid and worth spending time with. When I go home I still get sucked into that pattern, because resisting means being the one who makes everyone look at their problems, a thing they really don’t want to do.

Because, as Bowen asserts, system resists change. Systems are carefully balanced and want homeostasis. So when someone tries to change the system, the others compensate to bring them back in line and restore balance.

Think about Lingerie-gate from ACOFAS. Mor sees Cassian emotionally invested in Nesta, which draws away from the emotional investment he has in her and the rest of the IC. She makes a move to reassert her significance in his life as a woman, and scores a double hit by showing Nesta that Mor is higher status in the system and she should back off (so much more on this in another post).

When Azriel pursues Elain in ACOSF, Rhysand pulls rank hard with the rationale of political implications, but I think it’s because it could create conflict between his loyalty to Feyre and to the rest of his family. If Azriel and Elain get together and it goes badly, Rhys would be forced to choose between loyalty to Feyre’s sister or to Az. And I think he’s made it clear he’ll always choose Feyre. He would have to maintain the system by casting his brother out.

The Archeron sisters throw the system out of whack because loyalties are realigned and power hierarchies are being disrupted. I think a lot of the drama we seen on and off page comes from this upset and the way the IC tries to rebalance their dysfunctional system.

So that’s where I’ll leave it for now. I’m still puzzling through the power structure, because while it’s clear Rhys is at the top, the others are less clear to me. Mor is definitely above Cass and Az, but Elain jumps the queue at some point during ACOSF and idk what the hell to do with Amren.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed, class dismissed! You can find PART II here.

Source: Brown, J. (1999). Bowen family systems theory and practice: Illustration and critique. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Family Therapy, 20(2), 94-103.

#prythian university #acotar #family systems #family dysfunction #Murray Bowen #putting my master's degree to WORK honey

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