SALT IN THE WOUND

"but i pray the vultures pick me clean like a tibetan sky burial before anyone smells grief on me." 

[osborngcblin-blog]

“I don’t know, I hear they are notoriously difficult to work with--really insistent on getting their way. And their ability to take direction leaves something to be desired, if the ones that hang out outside of my apartment are any indication.” He smiles and shrugs his shoulders, laughs but not too loudly. His father would have been proud of him in this moment, and it feels like it could have been just another one of his parties--the intention to flaunt wealth in the face of those who don’t have it remains the same--but he’s beginning to wonder just how much that might mean to him now. He fought his whole life for his father’s approval, and now that he probably has it--from hell, or wherever the soul of Norman Osborn currently is--he’s not sure it’s what he built it up to be in his mind. 

Her handshake is strong, confident, the kind of confidence and strength that one could only develop from having to chase after and clean up Tony Stark’s messes. “Thank you, and I assure you that the pleasure is all mine. My father used to say that Pepper Potts was the real reason that Stark Industries ran at all.” She says that she’s read about him, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes--of course the breakdown of yet another Osborn had made plenty of headlines, and there’s been plenty of speculation about the ability of a twenty three year old CEO to save such a massive company. “Only good things, I hope. That will mean all the time I’ve spent eating take out in my office will have been for something.” 

[osborngcblin-blog]

He’s thrilled that MJ has carved out her own happiness in the middle of all of this chaos--even if he doesn’t trust the intentions of the panel one hundred percent--but it makes something in him ache. Not because she isn’t with him--he burned that bridge to cinders, and they wouldn’t have worked in the long term. It’s more like--he can see the smile on her face, the way her date keeps looking at her even from across the room, the way the characteristic ease with which she carries herself seems less forced--and he wishes that he could know what that felt like. He’s better off by himself, he knows that objectively he has too many scars and too much guilt and he’s done inflicting himself on the people that loves--but it’s a nice image in his head, that there could be life beyond the damage that he’s done, the damage that was done to him by his father. A fantasy, but a nice one. “All right, all right, I’ll play nicely, or at least--hold my cards until the right moment. It’s gonna be worth it, I can feel it.” 

He finds it hard to believe that sex is the only thing going on--he’s not blind after all, but relationships are often harder to define for the people inside them. “I have so many questions, chief among them--how on Earth did you fall into a sexual relationship with a government official?” He raises an eyebrow and chuckles, “And when did the government start hiring such beautiful people?” After spending so much of his life around people in positions of power, Harry is of course skeptical of the Panel--but he’ll more than happily push those doubts aside for the happiness of one of his best friends. He sighs when she asks him if he’s seeing anyone, tries to smile the best he’s able. “I’m dating my company and my own baggage, both more than I would be willing inflict on anyone else.” 

[osborngcblin-blog]

Harry has approximately a thousand bigger things to worry about before he worries about what Johnny Storm thinks about him, or about a relationship he has no business being so concerned about. The only reason he’s even in Harry’s frame of reference is because Harry had gotten lost in his anger and his grief--which he’s fully aware of and regrets nearly hourly--not that Storm needs to know that. His annoyance is by far the best entertainment Harry is going to get tonight, and truth be told--Harry far from hates anyone that Peter clearly cares about so much, and he’s grateful that while he was away getting his life in order his best friend had a shoulder to lean on. He chooses to ignore the comment about his jacket, clearly better than the other involved in this conversation even being last season, settles a half smirk, half smile on his face. “I’m sorry to have missed her delightful and charming company, though she’s clearly a woman with her priorities in order.” He takes a sip of his drink and chuckles. 

“I’ve been doing company business,” He says slowly, an effort to keep the annoyance out of his voice and his disinterested mask in place. He could have brought someone easily enough--there are plenty of people who would have jumped at the chance to spend an evening on his arm--he just--doesn’t trust himself enough yet. He did enough damage to the people in his life, people that he loved, and he can’t just forget that so easily--and he’s still carrying around the hurt done by his father, the hurt he’s done to himself. He’s not a person that someone could fall for at the moment, and he’s not sure he could find that in himself for someone else. “And I couldn’t subject anyone to listening to that all night. I suppose you could effectively say I’m dating Oscorp at the moment.” He takes another drink, smiles easily. “But if that’s what it takes to stay ahead of Stark and Wayne, I’m more than happy to do it. You’d probably enjoy looking at some of our new prototypes, I’m sure I can match whatever Richards has in that building of his.” 

[osborngcblin-blog]

“You enjoy picking out the prizes you’re going to take for yourself later.” He chuckles and rolls his eyes, but it’s a completely fond gesture. “Be they men, jewels, or credit cards.” He’s never discouraged Felicia from using her--specific skillset, Harry’s not stupid enough to pretend that the Black Cat isn’t an incredibly useful ally to have in his back pocket--and more than that, she was one of the only people who never questioned his recovery from the Green Goblin serum, she accepted him back into her life without hesitation, and he could never hope to repay her for that. She leans her head on his shoulder, and it feels like this could be just another one of Norman’s corporate buy out parties that they’ll both sneak out of in an hour or so to go dancing--far from the end of the world, anyway. “Stark heads the Avengers and you’re calling the Justice League flashy? A group brawl would be the most entertaining thing to happen all night--well, apart from the breakup I saw happening near the bar upstairs. A very messy affair, but I would have never trusted a man in boat shoes in the first place.” 

His smile softens at the edges when she asks him to dance, and he presses a kiss against the top of her head. “You’ll be a way better partner than the Waynecorp board member that I danced with last--that song lasted approximately an eternity and at the end of it she merely told me she would be in touch.” He rolls his eyes again and leans against her in return for a brief moment before standing and offering her his arm. If either of them were good at commitment he could imagine a world where they went home together at the end of all of this--the pair they make is a striking one, and it would probably please Felicia’s mother and the ghost of Harry’s father more than anything in the world--but he wouldn't give her up as his best friend for anything. They start swaying gently, and he smiles again. “You worried about all of this? I know worrying was bred out of our bloodlines, of course.” 

[osborngcblin-blog]

@friendlyneighborhoodspidernerd​

Harry’s never cared for complications--being the only son of Norman Osborn had practically eliminated anything that might have made his life difficult by any stretch of the imagination--until suddenly it didn’t. He's always preferred to know where he stands with people, what he could do better, if he can trust someone or he can’t--but his relationship with his best friend hasn’t been that clear cut for a while now. The rehabilitation facility had healed some of the damage done by the Green Goblin serum, but it couldn’t heal the emotional damage--as his therapist is so fond of saying, they cannot cure guilt. That was just another thing he was going to have to do on his own, and up until this point he’s had no idea how to go about it. He doesn’t know what to with complicated, especially when it comes to Peter, where it’s always been simple. 

He thinks they’re in a better place now, the shadow of Gwen’s death will always hang over both of them, but it’s not quite as looming as it used to be. Peter will always be the person that Harry trusts most, especially while the city is elsewhere and a maniac is in power, and he thinks he might be earning his way back to being that person in Pete’s life too--even if he isn’t quite there yet. He's sure as hell bound and determined to get back there, after all, an Osborn never settles for second, especially to someone like Johnny Storm. 

He’s been keeping an eye on Peter all night, like any good best friend would, and after he’s made his way around the room as Harry Osborn CEO, he slings an arm around the other man’s shoulders and grins wolfishly. “I get it, when I invite you to parties it’s just an excuse to get wasted, but when the President sends out an invite you’re here in your Sunday best. I see where I rank Pete, and frankly I’m wounded.” 

[jcnginkim]

charles melton being dramatique™

[twelvepercentpepperpotts]

If there was one thing being Tony Stark’s personal assistant had prepared her for, it was parties like this. An ‘event,’ more than a party, really. That’s how she would’ve marketed it, but Doom had his own way of doing things. Not that she could fault him for that – after all, his plans were keeping them fed, his militia was keeping the demons at bay, and his support was keeping the Rebuilding Project alive. 

Pepper planned on meeting Tony there, his date for real this time around. But there was always so much work to be done, and she steadfastly refused to leave it until Monday. Instead, she filled out paperwork in her evening gown until her inbox was completely cleared, and then she made her way to the Empire State Building. 

Stepping inside took her breath away. It was beautiful, and lively, and the people already there seemed incredibly happy. Most of them anyway – there were always a few who seemed unsure of what to do with themselves. Pepper thanked a server who handed her a champagne glass, and then she made her way further into the room. “This is very well done,” she declared, to no one in particular. “I really should get the name of the President’s event planner, they do magnificent work. It’s not easy pulling something like this off,” she mused with a smile. She would know, after all. 

[osborngcblin-blog]

He wishes that he could say that he’s running Oscorp with minimal resistance from his board--but he’s the second member of the Osborn family to have an incredibly public mental breakdown, and he’s only twenty three years old, which isn’t ideal for the CEO of a company--practically unprecedented, as one particular member has been saying for the past couple of meetings. Little do they know that Harry has been trained for this exact eventuality since he was old enough to comprehend spoken language, there is no one more qualified for the position that he currently holds. He’s not fighting to be put on the same level as Tony Stark or Bruce Wayne, he can practically hear his father’s voice in his head telling him to never let them see you sweat, Harry, if it looks easy it’s more intimidating--he just has to put in more of an effort than they do, and he’s confident that his mask is held in place far better than theirs, without the cracks. 

He’s drawn out of this thoughts by a voice singing the praises of the party, identifies the owner immediately as Pepper Potts, once accurately identified by Norman Osborn as the real reason that Stark Industries runs at all. “I don’t know,” He chuckles gamely, shrugs his shoulders. “It might very well be a demon with a bluetooth, but then again that might not be out of the ordinary for most of the event planners I’ve met.” He smiles warmly and offers a hand, a practiced gesture after hundreds of parties just like this one. “You look radiant this evening, Miss Potts.” 

[osborngcblin-blog]

@cftorch​

Of all of the people Harry had hurt when he was under the influence of the Green Goblin serum, he thinks Peter probably had the least reason to forgive him--and yet his best friend had done just that, and now that Harry was further along in his recovery, to the point where he was hopeful he would never lose that kind of control over himself again, he was fiercely protective of the mantle of Peter Parker’s best friend--determined that he would be worthy to carry it. He’s doing the job of a best friend tonight, keeping an eye on Peter from across the room, knowing full well how little the other man cared for parties and large groups of people in general, but he’s also doing the job of a CEO. Trading business cards with as many people of import as he can shake hands with, listening to some sixty year old man go from doubting Harry’s position within his own company to telling sexist jokes about the way things used to be. 

It’s exhausting, and Harry’s starting to wonder what the breakdown in his father’s mind was between sheer annoyance and social exhaustion and Green Goblin serum. He steals a champagne flute off of a passing waiter’s tray and pulls away to the sides of the room just for a moment, just to watch the people milling around, desperately try to figure out if they’re going to be taking their date home at the end of the night--if they don’t look incredibly wary of the whole party. It’s then that he catches the glare directed at him, and he’s struck with the uncontrollable urge to either roll his eyes or ignore it completely, which he’s sure would annoy its owner equally. He’s never been one to look an entertainment gift horse in the mouth, so he steals another flute and makes his way over, smirking. “You know you’re practically burning holes into the back of my jacket Storm.” He drawls, offers him the other flute. “It’s last season Armani, you have my blessing honestly--I wasn’t able to get anything else tailored in time. Where’s your lovely girlfriend?” 

[osborngcblin-blog]

@thcjackpot

He thinks he might be lying if he said he expected his friends to give him a second chance, after everything. Every Osborn is raised to cope with the potential that everyone you know and love will eventually leave you at some point, because they want something from you or because they can’t keep up with the life, because you have to kill your darlings first and foremost. He had fully expected to exit the rehabilitation clinic to find himself standing alone in the ashes of the Green Goblin, but that hadn’t been the case. He had found Peter, as steadfast and forgiving as he always had been, his very own second chance Gwen eager to be a part of his life, and MJ--the first person that had ever really known him, had ever really known the things that lurked just below the polished veneer. Oh the thousands of things that were wrapped up in her and her every gaze that got directed his way. 

He’s been watching her all night, not in any kind of possessive way but just to see how she’s faring--she looks genuinely happy, at least, happier than she has been in a long time. He hadn’t really been around for her last boyfriend, but from what he’s heard from their friends it blew up in spectacular and carnage inducing fashion, so more than interested to see just exactly who is making her smile like that, makes a mental note to ask Cassie if she could place the face of the other girl, what she might know that he doesn’t. He waits until the other girl gestures towards the area with the bar and the food, makes his way over with a warm smile on his face and an eyebrow raised. “You look like you’re having fun,” He laughs. “It isn’t nice to keep secrets from your friends you know, especially with the stories I could tell--do you think she’d like to hear about throwing up on my Versace shoes at prom first, or the time you hadn’t slept in two days and tried to break into the Bronx Zoo?” 

[osborngcblin-blog]

@quecnofcrime

Parties like this are second nature for Harry at this point, muscle memory, automatic response after a near lifetime of his father’s training. He knows exactly who’s hands he should shake, how much alcohol he should drink to be polite but also stay focused, and the appropriate times to pull away form the crowd and be in the middle of it. By all accounts it should have been boring as sin, nothing more than a business opportunity, but this particular party happened to be thrown by the man who held the future of the entire city in his hand, and happened to be attended by every superhero and civilian alike--it at least promised to be interesting, even if it was practically begging for some kind of trouble. 

It’s also second nature for him to seek out Felicia in these circumstances, always a fixed axis from any point in a crowded ballroom. They had endured many a charity gala and extravagant business dinner by each other’s sides as children, snuck hundreds of bottles of expensive liquor past their parents and into garages bigger than most people’s homes--if the world was going to end at this party it was going to end where it began, ouroboros. He finds her at the bar, clad in enough jewels that he can practically feel the envy of a nearby woman in his teeth, her fingers wrapped around a glass of something nearly the same color as her lipstick, and he smiles warmly as he pours himself into the stool next to her. “I’ve been to congratulations on your divorce parties with less tension than this.” He slips his suit jacket off, rolls up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal an expensive watch on his wrist. “Who do you think is going to start the fight? My money is on Captain America, he never could take anything lying down, and Stark has been laying down for Doom since day one.” 

[spidcrgwens]

@osborngcblin

Years ago, Gwen’s father told her that when leaders were scared, when they felt their power slipping, they went for a major distraction to draw the public’s eye away from what they were doing. This party felt like nothing if not that, and if he were here, her dad would have told Gwen not to go. Unfortunately, he wasn’t here. He was off in another dimension somewhere, and though Gwen was smart enough to recognize the distraction for what it was, she wasn’t smart enough to let it keep her from having a good time. She kind of needed a distraction.

The party was a really good distraction. The food they were serving was a lot better than what she usually ate at home, and the demons didn’t seem to be interested in messing with the crowd. For the first time in a while, Gwen found herself in decent spirits, and she grinned widely as she leaned against the snacks table. Seeing someone approach out of the corner of her eye, she turned towards them and felt her smile widen at the sight of Harry. “Pretty good party, huh? These sandwich things with the toothpicks are incredible. Here, try one!”

[osborngcblin-blog]

Norman Osborn had always said that it was beneficial to set upon any task with a list of goals, things that could be accomplished or gained from any given situation. And there is always something to be gained or accomplished, Harry, anyone who says differently is an idiot with an idle mind. Harry had approached the President’s party as an incredible opportunity to accomplish several things--first of all to be seen, stable and charming and every bit the old Harry Osborn, to add to his credibility as the CEO of his father’s company. His second goal was to make as many useful connections as he could while people were in good spirits, just drunk enough that everyone was everyone else’s friend, never enough that it could be called an exploration. He was clean now, he was doing most things over the table. Apart from the cards he kept close to his chest, of course. 

He’s shaken plenty of hands already and feels pretty confident of his success when he spies Gwen over by one of the tables of food, looking as beautiful as ever and genuinely smiling. She didn’t do enough of that as of late, none of them really did, but he didn't care about everyone, he cared about Gwen. Unequivocally good hearted Gwen, who deserved it and probably the entire world. He was going to work on that, but for now he’s settled on taking the offered bit of sandwich on a toothpick and smiling warmly. “Wow, this is actually really good, and I don’t throw that around lightly. Is this going to be the next big food trend--resource cache to table? Are people going to swear off eating things that aren’t from the resource cache because it’s somehow unethical?” He laughs and shakes his head. “Resourceitarian? Resourcean? The name needs work clearly.”