#harryosborn

[xbl0sstea18]

Idk which one is real...All of them look the same!!!😭😭😭

Edit: Damian Wayne joins the group.(Some of you requested it)

[12mischa]

lay my curses out to rest / make a mercy out of me

PARKSBORN - word count - 1045

A ship can’t love an anchor.

Not really. Not in any way that lasts.

He supposes he’s never really thought of it, well, Parker—the way he leaves something of himself behind, as if begging Harry to forget, so he can fold himself over his own hands and forget him too. Like this—whatever this is—can be tucked away just as easily as it was taken.

It's never that neat. Never calamitous enough to warrant Osborn’s attention, either. Though, still, he weathers an attempt. It’s acrid—how he imagines the taste of a battery. His tongue traces that solid, pulsing edge of electric as wanton eyes peer back at him with an expression of unfamiliar concern.

They squint—prod at his half empty chest as he forgets to breathe. His lungs are bothersome and his gaze heavy, as he draws the knife to his thigh and presses—hard enough to etch a thin white line that bleeds into red from the pressure.

It's something familiar. He remembers the spike of pain before the ubiquitous metal taste. He remembers how to wrap his knuckles in gauze, so they sting less when he punches.

Harry remembers Parker.

And that is the worst of it all.

He remembers how the flames danced off his eyes when they shared some taxi cab back to OSCORP, huddled over a joint like they were furtive enough to do so without getting caught. How their first-times were taken by each other, and their seconds and thirds, until they each met a girl in their lives; one they both had liked, though Osborn supposes he never really liked MJ.

He appealed to her succor, her warmth, her need to foster his own spite—her compulsion to fix the broken things, as if it were customary. Osborn wanted to insist he didn’t need fixing, certainly not from MJ. But then he fell back onto the mattress while she claimed his lips, and all he could imagine was Parker above him, and in that moment, he’d resolved to remove himself from Peter.

His father didn't grow a faggot.

Osborn coddles the knife to his rib, and it burns. He hisses, watching the stream go steady under his fingertip. He wipes the blood away on the towel beneath him.

It reminds him of all the times he’d helped Parker wash the scabby flesh of his forearms. All the promises he made and never kept, because he can’t bear to see his face again, not like this, because even though he hates Parker for making him this way, he's still afraid of disappointing him.

He remembers Peter asking him,

“Am I still your excuse to go get high?”

and he didn't have a response but to nod, as he exhaled first before coughing into his lap and spilling blood all over his dress shoes.

That's when Parker told him to stop smoking and he scoffed.

That's when Parker told him he still loved him, and he scoffed, wondering when the gauze would wear thin and he would see Osborn for what he truly was.

He left before he could.

Then, a knock.

Harry doesn't know whether it’s Peter at the door, or the ghost of his father. He doesn't know if he's imagining it when the phone rings and he picks up and it's Peter's voice on the other end asking why he won't call him back.

And Osborn wants to tell him, because he can hear it in his voice that he's desperate for something, whether it's Harry or not he doesn't know.

But instead, he hangs up. He lingers on his words, the cut-off conversation as he draws the knife back to his thighs. He looks at everything Peter’s forgotten from the pane.

He can't recognize his reflection. He doubted Parker could either, through the matted hair and the glossed over eyes, the flushed cheeks and the beads of blood that caught at his wrists.

Because a ship can’t love an anchor.

Not really. Not in any way that matters.

So he imagines that Parker maybe does. That he still wants him even through all the strife; that maybe something of Osborn is still salvageable through all the blood.

He knows there’s nothing of him left—only a husk. Harry supposes there’s no harm in pretending, except for the nauseous crawl in his stomach that rises at the thought of Parker, of their shared lips, smoke blooming between them.

He needs to smoke.

-

Osborn escapes to the balcony. His shorts barely veil the thin layer of blood caked along his thighs, the breeze tugging at reopened scars. But he can’t find it in himself to mind—not when Parker lingers at his fingertips, when sensation dulls into a distant hum beneath his wandering hands, slipping lower, catching at the edge of his waistband.

Not when he’s an elegy of old ghosts- an awful damn disease. And he swears he didn't mean it when he said he wanted Peter to leave, because all he can think about now is how he would feel pressing against him, letting him forget all the shit that's happened between them.

Not when he’s imagining him at the foot of the brass- knuckled towards the fence, biting against the wind. Not when-

Not when he feels Peter, because Parker is there this time, and he swears he's not leaving and Harry has half a mind to believe him because he knows Parker never truly left.

He fumbles with the lighter between his fingers, pressing the cigarette to his lips and tapping the ash out over the bench.

He can't breathe. His lungs are smoke and his eyes are soot and he cant fucking breathe- because hes seeing Peter again in a dark hallway he doesnt remember entering and theyre kissing- somewhere well off, hopefully, where the knife at the foot of the bed doesnt exist and the smoke between them tastes faintly sweet like candy.

But Harry can’t bear to hope anymore. He can’t bear to taste Peter on his tongue even when hes not fucking there.

So he taps the ash away, averting his gaze to the floor when he hears the door unlock behind him, briefly pulling himself from the banister.

Harry didn't know what he was expecting.

Peter Parker wasn't on his list.

[volpegrace]

I love Harry so much...

I hope he will be Venom, as it will be quite an interesting and not trivial development of the game’s plot. I can't wait for October 20th to start playing.

[majorilycomplucated]

Teasing

Harry having a cat ears pfp on Tik Tok

Peter: So, should I install a cat box in here?

Harry: I don’t know, maybe you can put it next to the spider tank I’m going to buy

[kitkatgal0w0]

💙✨❤️

Some sparkly bois-

[ahiiruu]

pat pat!

[galaxyofcomics]

Happy Norman Osborn Day, y'all! . . . #harryosborn #marisatomei #marissatomei #benedictcumberbatch #spidergwen #film #normanosborn #ironman #theamazingspiderman #tonystark #michellejones #spidergirl #stanlee #spiderham #venom #spidermanfarfromhome #avengers #happyhogan #sony #mysterio #spiderwoman #mycousinvinny #irondad #flashthompson #spidernoir #spiderpunk #vulture #robertdowneyjr #GalaxyofComics (at Galaxy of Comics) https://www.instagram.com/p/CeOkZ5Jrwpl/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[artstationable]

Harry Osborn • "Armor Bust | Orc"

Character Artist

artstation

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