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i understand (i'm a liability) by orphan_account for TheOceanIsMyInkwell
Fandoms: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
24 Feb 2020
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Summary
“I… am not being challenged in the right ways here,” Harley says slowly, carefully. He’s not really lying, this way. He is being fucking challenged, alright, but not by school. Not by the things that should challenge him.
“Then move here,” Tony says, and Harley’s heart drops straight into his feet.
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Bookmark Notes:
wow
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Bookmark Notes:
❤️❤️❤️ ultimate poetry
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Bookmark Notes:
this is one of the most beautiful pieces ive ever read. the prose is insane. the emotions are so heartfelt my heart ached as i read it. i wouldve NEVER expected to enjoy a harley keener centric fic yet here i am saving this to my favorites collection. i am SO sad this work is orphaned, i would kill to read other pieces by this author. some of my favorite quotes...:
"He’s a rift, he swallows space.
Freckled like a strawberry across his nose, under his eyebrows. Had lips too thin, a nose too small. He was waifish, and wild, and asked questions of his teachers that they never wanted to answer. But why are we crossing out the thing that’s different— can’t I put a heart around it? Shouldn’t we have funerals for dying stars? If I talk back to the radio, am I talking to a person or a thing? Where do forgotten memories go? I think a hotel on the moon would be a good business venture.
He was a child of stripes; a child of muddy roller skates; a Fleetwood Mac child that would close his eyes and spin himself dizzy just to feel the grass under his skin when he fell. He was guitar strings and the calluses they carved. He was too-long shoelaces looped around the ankles. He was metal lunch boxes clanging against the cinderblock walls of the winding school hallways because he swung his arms too far when he walked.
The sun comes up and Tony sits in the living room. Harley hears his footsteps approach, the sigh of the leather couch. But he does not come out. Harley hears what he never says: I trust you.
The dawn wind wrinkles around him.
I am here, Harley thinks. I am not what I am. I am beginning.Harley lets himself smile, feeling the wonderful ache of it. It’s the best feeling. Like glorious choirs and a hymn of his own composition; like this is hallelujah but there’s no god to praise. Hard to believe. This is holiness, he thinks. Reconciliation. Growth. He’s growing into himself, like ivy crawling up brick buildings, catching the light of the sun on his leaves like dastardly shards of emerald but damn if he doesn’t have the power to rip stone out of the earth. Beautiful but with a ferocity, a kinetic energy, mighty and pretty all in one. Wrap him in a bow; this is the best he’ll ever be— by Peter’s side. "
Read it again!!!