geniusphilanthropist
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Advertising! (ooc)
2 min read
YO
ALRIGHT. LISTEN UP WORMS. THERE'S AN AMAZING PERSON THAT ISN'T GETTING ENOUGH LOVE AND DO YOU KNOW WHO IT IS?!DO YOU?!THE BEAUTIFULINCREDIBLEHAWKALICIOUS
YO
ALRIGHT. LISTEN UP WORMS. THERE'S AN AMAZING PERSON THAT ISN'T GETTING ENOUGH LOVE AND DO YOU KNOW WHO IT IS?!
SHE'S INCREDIBLE, AND SHE NEEDS SO MANY MORE PEOPLE TALKING TO HER
I'M GOING TO GO WRITE HER A LONG STARTER LIKE RIGHT THIS SECOND
BECAUSE SHE DESERVES SOME SERIOUS LOVE
TAKE IT FROM ME
I ROLEPLAY A GENIUS = THEREFORE I'M AN ACTUAL GENIUS
AND I KNOW THINGS
AND THIS I KNOW; SHE'S AWESOME YOU SHOULD GO AND RP WITH HER
AND TALK TO HER
AND WRAP HER IN SOME LOVE.
SHE'S A SERIOUSLY GOOD CLINT BARTON AND EVERYONE NEEDS MORE HAWKEYE IN THEIR LIFE
I KNOW I DO
WHERE DO I GO WHEN I NEED ME SOME HAWK?
BetterFromADistanceBetterFromADistance
BetterFromADistance
WHY DON'T MORE PEOPLE TALK TO HER?
I DON'T KNOW, BECAUSE SHE'S JUST GREAT.
GO, GO NOW CHECK HER OUT.
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index/ Navigation
1 min read
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What the dickins
1 min read
I USED TO BE A TERRIBLE TONY
HOW DID I CAPTURE YOU ALL
AND FOOL YOU INTO BELIEVING
I WAS GOOD
WOW.
TERRIBLE. }
HOW DID I CAPTURE YOU ALL
AND FOOL YOU INTO BELIEVING
I WAS GOOD
WOW.
TERRIBLE. }
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{Angsty journal because reasons! :'D Feel free to comment y'all.}
Well, that was over before it even began. Tony couldn't say he was unsurprised, he'd have to sit back, and pick which flaw it was exactly, that had brought his happiness undone.
The sound was soft, Tony could barely hear it anyway, he wasn't concentrating on the gentle tick as he turned the wheel. His eyes were so directly focused on the device before him, yet so busy being elsewhere. It almost summarized his workings in a few pale words for the past few days. Scurrying fingers snatched up the wrong sized wrench, letting it fall back to the bench with an un-heard clatter, his trigger finger itched and twitched, longing to close around cold metal that fit it right. He'd never finish anything at this rate, but it seemed that had become and all to common thread in his life over the past few weeks, weeks that soon became months, months that rolled on years. And from there he was unable to count any amount or stretch of time to accurately cover his unsteadily shaken ground. his husk of a body slumped languorously. He could feel hollow breaths rolling in and out, respiring thoughtlessly. After a stretch of his shallow frame the genius reached a hand guiltlessly toward the cold glass of a bottle. He hadn't bothered with a glass, because in all honesty he couldn't find one that felt right in his hand. The bottle though, felt molded to his palm, almost finger printed particularly for him. And that was an important thing, or more like something he'd decided to make important to keep his mind from straying. It had plenty to stray too, and he'd rather it just didn't for now. After taking a generous swig he cast it aside, out of sight, out of mind. But as Tony Stark knew well, that wasn't always true.
This was starting to get excessive, if it hadn't already been. He was gone, he'd get over it, people came and went from his life as though he was a revolving door. It never hit him harder though, on the way out then it did now. Perhaps because Tony had never invested more of his life into a single person before, never let anyone in so far that they could touch his heart. No longer able to breath he concentrated solely on his hands. He'd tried to hard to keep some... symmetry. To make sure...he had never seen the genius at his absolute worst. It hadn't worked, somehow, he'd gotten through. Through the walls that had taken so long to erect in the first place, all for nought. Was it all a lie now? All that had been said between them, everything Tony had given up and promised and taken back. It meant nothing? He knew he certainly wasn't perfect, but he'd really tried. This time, he'd really tried. He'd never cared more for one person like that, then himself. It was an entirely awkward and prolonged experience, he thought he'd be happy. Though everything that had pushed him around along the way and poked and prodded would be worth it. Yet here he was, and none of it was worth a dime. All he had was the knowledge that he'd clearly failed himself and been failed yet again. It all meant nothing. He'd never do it again. Never. And a numbness coursed through him,He cleared his throat, and straightened his aching spine. When someone meant something to you, and I mean really meant something. You didn't get past it over night. The steady rhythmic thump in his chest, made regular by his own device reminded him he was there. Still there, gravitated in place. And...isn't that something? Save. Face. Thats what he did, he made a career out of it. All he needed to do was make a public appearance here and there, go to a few parties, maybe throw one or two.
He'd never admit this though, the defeated set to his heavy shoulders, mind dwelling on things that would do him no good. Grin and bare it, if you can't, at least pretend , he'd never thought much of that advice, but why the hell not? It had come right from 'The Original Genius', Tony visibly scoffed. He'd like to see what he'd say now. The only advice his father had ever given him that seemed to be worth anything came toward the end, had it been the night before they'd died? Maybe, Don't let anyone close, then you're untouchable, and Tony had never known if the old man was just drunk or he'd meant every word. Either way, he'd lived like that for a time. It had all changed, what felt like forever ago, and now he was back to square one. "New game plan, Stark." He muttered to himself aloud, changing the circuit board on his project. "Back to the drawing board." He was fine. He was okay, he was fine.
He was fine, but he found he couldn't definitely say with nail biting assurance. He'd moved, a quarter inch lefterly and he decided he might as well stand, if his legs would hold him, he wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been there. So placing the wiring down, fingers slightly red and sore, scolded from touching the wires, bare skin. He soon found he could indeed stand, and reached for his phone, the most expedient way to check the time without asking aloud. 12:36, he blinked, and it was day time. The sun had set and risen all in one sitting. He rubbed his weary eyes, grinning sheepishly at the project that presently occupied his mind, among other things.
He was never completely alone though, was he? JARVIS alerted him, to someone visiting, apparently he'd let them in. Let you in. Tony ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath because, honestly? He didn't feel like seeing another human being. But plastering something of a subtle-smug turn up to each corner of his lips, he marched out of his beloved sanctuary and into the large expanse of lounge.
"Ah, well you chose the perfect time to visit-" The genius sniffed, hands behind his back, he'd taken to being more careless in the lab, and would rather not show his scorched appendages. "I was just about to open a bottle of Scotch, or some other high alcoholic content beverage, you know its five O'clock somewhere, and since its my happy hour, I figured why the hell not-" He strutted toward the bar, which took up more space then strictly necessary in the room.
Well, that was over before it even began. Tony couldn't say he was unsurprised, he'd have to sit back, and pick which flaw it was exactly, that had brought his happiness undone.
The sound was soft, Tony could barely hear it anyway, he wasn't concentrating on the gentle tick as he turned the wheel. His eyes were so directly focused on the device before him, yet so busy being elsewhere. It almost summarized his workings in a few pale words for the past few days. Scurrying fingers snatched up the wrong sized wrench, letting it fall back to the bench with an un-heard clatter, his trigger finger itched and twitched, longing to close around cold metal that fit it right. He'd never finish anything at this rate, but it seemed that had become and all to common thread in his life over the past few weeks, weeks that soon became months, months that rolled on years. And from there he was unable to count any amount or stretch of time to accurately cover his unsteadily shaken ground. his husk of a body slumped languorously. He could feel hollow breaths rolling in and out, respiring thoughtlessly. After a stretch of his shallow frame the genius reached a hand guiltlessly toward the cold glass of a bottle. He hadn't bothered with a glass, because in all honesty he couldn't find one that felt right in his hand. The bottle though, felt molded to his palm, almost finger printed particularly for him. And that was an important thing, or more like something he'd decided to make important to keep his mind from straying. It had plenty to stray too, and he'd rather it just didn't for now. After taking a generous swig he cast it aside, out of sight, out of mind. But as Tony Stark knew well, that wasn't always true.
This was starting to get excessive, if it hadn't already been. He was gone, he'd get over it, people came and went from his life as though he was a revolving door. It never hit him harder though, on the way out then it did now. Perhaps because Tony had never invested more of his life into a single person before, never let anyone in so far that they could touch his heart. No longer able to breath he concentrated solely on his hands. He'd tried to hard to keep some... symmetry. To make sure...he had never seen the genius at his absolute worst. It hadn't worked, somehow, he'd gotten through. Through the walls that had taken so long to erect in the first place, all for nought. Was it all a lie now? All that had been said between them, everything Tony had given up and promised and taken back. It meant nothing? He knew he certainly wasn't perfect, but he'd really tried. This time, he'd really tried. He'd never cared more for one person like that, then himself. It was an entirely awkward and prolonged experience, he thought he'd be happy. Though everything that had pushed him around along the way and poked and prodded would be worth it. Yet here he was, and none of it was worth a dime. All he had was the knowledge that he'd clearly failed himself and been failed yet again. It all meant nothing. He'd never do it again. Never. And a numbness coursed through him,He cleared his throat, and straightened his aching spine. When someone meant something to you, and I mean really meant something. You didn't get past it over night. The steady rhythmic thump in his chest, made regular by his own device reminded him he was there. Still there, gravitated in place. And...isn't that something? Save. Face. Thats what he did, he made a career out of it. All he needed to do was make a public appearance here and there, go to a few parties, maybe throw one or two.
He'd never admit this though, the defeated set to his heavy shoulders, mind dwelling on things that would do him no good. Grin and bare it, if you can't, at least pretend , he'd never thought much of that advice, but why the hell not? It had come right from 'The Original Genius', Tony visibly scoffed. He'd like to see what he'd say now. The only advice his father had ever given him that seemed to be worth anything came toward the end, had it been the night before they'd died? Maybe, Don't let anyone close, then you're untouchable, and Tony had never known if the old man was just drunk or he'd meant every word. Either way, he'd lived like that for a time. It had all changed, what felt like forever ago, and now he was back to square one. "New game plan, Stark." He muttered to himself aloud, changing the circuit board on his project. "Back to the drawing board." He was fine. He was okay, he was fine.
He was fine, but he found he couldn't definitely say with nail biting assurance. He'd moved, a quarter inch lefterly and he decided he might as well stand, if his legs would hold him, he wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been there. So placing the wiring down, fingers slightly red and sore, scolded from touching the wires, bare skin. He soon found he could indeed stand, and reached for his phone, the most expedient way to check the time without asking aloud. 12:36, he blinked, and it was day time. The sun had set and risen all in one sitting. He rubbed his weary eyes, grinning sheepishly at the project that presently occupied his mind, among other things.
He was never completely alone though, was he? JARVIS alerted him, to someone visiting, apparently he'd let them in. Let you in. Tony ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath because, honestly? He didn't feel like seeing another human being. But plastering something of a subtle-smug turn up to each corner of his lips, he marched out of his beloved sanctuary and into the large expanse of lounge.
"Ah, well you chose the perfect time to visit-" The genius sniffed, hands behind his back, he'd taken to being more careless in the lab, and would rather not show his scorched appendages. "I was just about to open a bottle of Scotch, or some other high alcoholic content beverage, you know its five O'clock somewhere, and since its my happy hour, I figured why the hell not-" He strutted toward the bar, which took up more space then strictly necessary in the room.
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{High school Au Because of reasons}
9 min read
[HERE YOU GO D! JUST LIKE WE WERE TALKIN' BOUT. You can thank 
For this AU high school angst, XD If it makes no sense, its because I wrote it at 12:49 AM And I might make some changes, at some point, or I might not, anyways, I'm not cool and had no idea how to do a report card thingy, so when I can motivate my brain enough to devise one, I'll whack it in at the start on his enrollment form, genius. Anyways, night =w=~ Don't kill me because it sucks DNAHFB I fail, but anyways, I'm ranting because I'm tired, enjoy or try not to let your eyes bleed out from my failness ]
"Dad you gotta sign this." Tony shoved the paper at his father, it was another school form, continuing enrollment and so on. Despite his dads desperate pleading, Tony wasn't interested in uprooting to MIT so soon, partly because he was a stubborn ass and partly because he didn't want to, sheerly in spite.
"Sure thing Sport," He muttered, not looking up from his work. Sometimes Tony wondered if he had a name, other then 'Kid' or 'Sport' or 'Kiddo', he wondered how the old man kept coming up with new ones. He'd write a list, but he didn't have time.
"Like oh...Now-ish, if that suits you, I never know, you're always so busy I mean-" Tony sighed and rambled a moment pointlessly, forcing a response from the man as he tapped the pen in his hand to the papper, sniffing as he shifted, back and forth on his heels. Howard glanced up, almost visibly sighing. Oops, they'd almost made eye contact for longer then two seconds.
"Alright, alright, leave it there for me to sign, I'll do it tonight." The older Stark finally caved. Tony fist pumped but quickly dropped the arm when his father looked up again. He had a hint of a smile on his lips as he stood. The kids mother came in then, she was dressed reservedly as usual. Tony knew for all they said they were going out to something without him, but he didn't really mind.
"See you round Kiddo," Howard had waved a hand. Yeah, sure. That was his version of a long good bye, the rest of the time it was just the wave. His mom had kissed his cheek hurriedly despite Tony's protests and linked arms with her husband.
"Bye." Tony wore that usual, smirking-grin, he always wore it. He didn't even know if he'd been heard, but it didn't really matter
Pictures on the walls, all of them were such liars. Each frame, mouthed off lies, they say a pictures worth a thousands words. The must have been worth a lot more then that. Tony could barely remember any of the events they'd been taken at. They looked pretty legit though, he noticed on further inspection before snatching up his satchel.
Maybe he was just being the slightest slither unreasonable, but it felt like he was a wall fixture. He was just there, as soon as he was old enough to fend for himself, that all he seemed to do. His mother would come into his room sometimes, open her mouth as if to speak, she'd lose her words as she looked at him, that smile she'd wear, nod and fuss a single moment with his hair before leaving the room again. The door would close with a thud, something of a finality. If he thought the house was empty before, it was now.
It didn't bother him, he was a tough kid, he was a Stark, and it didn't bother him. He had heavy metal to compensate for the abundance of silence in the Stark House hold. Today was different though, he couldn't shake the feeling even as he turned to look at the building before leaving it. He couldn't pick, though he had plenty of options. Why that day felt so strange when placed along side others. He'd learn soon enough.
He was late to class, he was always late to class, and he had an entire draw at home full of late passes, excuses ranging from 'It was a nice day out' and 'I took a detour, yup, not big small enough to fit through the window' to those almost to ridiculous to mention. They grew more radical the more often the occurrence, today though he just told the teacher he'd been on the pavement fist fighting a ninja, where the ninja had come from Tony had justified 'Duh, no where, he was a ninja' but apparently, that wasn't a valid excuse. Just as well he aced most of his classes. He'd done as many Science and Math courses that he'd been allowed, and yet it still frustrated him that he didn't find a challenge in it. It caused frown lines on his forehead, and a significant wrinkle to his nose. Bruce improved matter though, his best friend Bruce could at least make things interesting if the work criteria itself didn't interest the narcissist. Often that was enough, that and the constant buzzing of the phone in his back pocket, numbers he never remembered, All signed off by girls he couldn't put name to face.
Lunch was nothing to write home about either, (not that his letter would ever get read) because if he wasn't the centre of attention, he was sitting on the window sill being as perfectly antisocial as he could, sketching designs for inventions he could never get to work. His father would be able to do it, he just new it. Tapping the pencil to the papper he pulled out his phone and muttering to himself, he tried to make a blue print that way, but he needed his tablet to do it properly so gave in. Reluctantly.
It was fifth period, that made sense because it was about then Tony started to really get into his classes, they were his final two and both were moderate, nothing too hard, but it at least gave him an excuse to flit around the room, helping girls with their algorithms and just moving around, often clicking his fingers. He was always restless, unless he was truly and whole heartedly absorbed in something, he never sat still. He'd been helping a short blonde with a particularly nasty looking sum when it had happened, his name called loud and clear over the speakers.
"You wanted to see me~" Tony slapped his hands down on the desk in a rhythmic drumming beat. Why did no one ever look happy to see him? Or maybe it just wasn't his day. "Look Mr. Hogan, I know you love me, but you've got to stop calling me over here, juuust to see me, my picture is hanging in the...hall, somewhere." He attempted a joke, she didn't look Amused.
"Anthony-" Mr. Hogan began, he winced, because being called that really rubbed him the wrong way. It was like he'd walked out without pants or something, no one ever called him that unless he was in trouble.
--------
Tony in the winding corridor outside his class, it was almost bell time. Any moment the hall would irrupt with the comings and goings of students, bustling and jostling and being an all together nuisance to one another. But for now, it was free period, as far as he was concerned. The clock ticking was the only constant sound, sometimes the squeak of a far of sneaker would snap him from his thoughts enough to bring a glass to his eyes. Sometimes the clack of chalk on a black board, something along such lines. His finger tapped a consistant pattern on his knee cap for lack of a distraction, he could use a distraction just then. He'd started standing, only when full realization hit did the boy end up on the floor. The wall had proven to be a far less appropriate leaning place then it had appeared at first glance.
They didn't see him, and now it was too late. Could he have tried harder? He didn't think so. He felt smothered, where was air when you needed it? Where was oxygen, pure O, where was carbon? One part carbon two parts oxygen It should have been exiting his mouth in a steady flow. Oxygen in, Carbon out, One part Carbon, Two parts oxygen. Brown orbs trailing to the ceiling, 90.3820901° angle X adjacent to Hypotenuse- He closed his eyes, his brain scattered uncontrollably at times like this.
Howard Stark, never would get to signing that school form now. In fact, he wouldn't sign anything ever again. Tony started to get a sick feeling in his stomach, a churning sensation that made his head spin uncomfortably. He wouldn't sign anything again, because he was... dead. Maria Stark would never kiss his cheek, or frisk his hair again either. That hit Tony as surely as a slap across the face, or a freight train to the chest. He couldn't decide what was worse, the fact that both of them were gone. Or that the press had found out before their own son. The sound of foot steps shattered the ice of Tony's drifting. The noworphan looked up.
"...hi?" He said, though it sounded like a question. His voice was as steady as ever, and he half glared at you. Yup, he was very, VERY proud of himself for the effort.
For this AU high school angst, XD If it makes no sense, its because I wrote it at 12:49 AM And I might make some changes, at some point, or I might not, anyways, I'm not cool and had no idea how to do a report card thingy, so when I can motivate my brain enough to devise one, I'll whack it in at the start on his enrollment form, genius. Anyways, night =w=~ "Dad you gotta sign this." Tony shoved the paper at his father, it was another school form, continuing enrollment and so on. Despite his dads desperate pleading, Tony wasn't interested in uprooting to MIT so soon, partly because he was a stubborn ass and partly because he didn't want to, sheerly in spite.
"Sure thing Sport," He muttered, not looking up from his work. Sometimes Tony wondered if he had a name, other then 'Kid' or 'Sport' or 'Kiddo', he wondered how the old man kept coming up with new ones. He'd write a list, but he didn't have time.
"Like oh...Now-ish, if that suits you, I never know, you're always so busy I mean-" Tony sighed and rambled a moment pointlessly, forcing a response from the man as he tapped the pen in his hand to the papper, sniffing as he shifted, back and forth on his heels. Howard glanced up, almost visibly sighing. Oops, they'd almost made eye contact for longer then two seconds.
"Alright, alright, leave it there for me to sign, I'll do it tonight." The older Stark finally caved. Tony fist pumped but quickly dropped the arm when his father looked up again. He had a hint of a smile on his lips as he stood. The kids mother came in then, she was dressed reservedly as usual. Tony knew for all they said they were going out to something without him, but he didn't really mind.
"See you round Kiddo," Howard had waved a hand. Yeah, sure. That was his version of a long good bye, the rest of the time it was just the wave. His mom had kissed his cheek hurriedly despite Tony's protests and linked arms with her husband.
"Bye." Tony wore that usual, smirking-grin, he always wore it. He didn't even know if he'd been heard, but it didn't really matter
Pictures on the walls, all of them were such liars. Each frame, mouthed off lies, they say a pictures worth a thousands words. The must have been worth a lot more then that. Tony could barely remember any of the events they'd been taken at. They looked pretty legit though, he noticed on further inspection before snatching up his satchel.
Maybe he was just being the slightest slither unreasonable, but it felt like he was a wall fixture. He was just there, as soon as he was old enough to fend for himself, that all he seemed to do. His mother would come into his room sometimes, open her mouth as if to speak, she'd lose her words as she looked at him, that smile she'd wear, nod and fuss a single moment with his hair before leaving the room again. The door would close with a thud, something of a finality. If he thought the house was empty before, it was now.
It didn't bother him, he was a tough kid, he was a Stark, and it didn't bother him. He had heavy metal to compensate for the abundance of silence in the Stark House hold. Today was different though, he couldn't shake the feeling even as he turned to look at the building before leaving it. He couldn't pick, though he had plenty of options. Why that day felt so strange when placed along side others. He'd learn soon enough.
He was late to class, he was always late to class, and he had an entire draw at home full of late passes, excuses ranging from 'It was a nice day out' and 'I took a detour, yup, not big small enough to fit through the window' to those almost to ridiculous to mention. They grew more radical the more often the occurrence, today though he just told the teacher he'd been on the pavement fist fighting a ninja, where the ninja had come from Tony had justified 'Duh, no where, he was a ninja' but apparently, that wasn't a valid excuse. Just as well he aced most of his classes. He'd done as many Science and Math courses that he'd been allowed, and yet it still frustrated him that he didn't find a challenge in it. It caused frown lines on his forehead, and a significant wrinkle to his nose. Bruce improved matter though, his best friend Bruce could at least make things interesting if the work criteria itself didn't interest the narcissist. Often that was enough, that and the constant buzzing of the phone in his back pocket, numbers he never remembered, All signed off by girls he couldn't put name to face.
Lunch was nothing to write home about either, (not that his letter would ever get read) because if he wasn't the centre of attention, he was sitting on the window sill being as perfectly antisocial as he could, sketching designs for inventions he could never get to work. His father would be able to do it, he just new it. Tapping the pencil to the papper he pulled out his phone and muttering to himself, he tried to make a blue print that way, but he needed his tablet to do it properly so gave in. Reluctantly.
It was fifth period, that made sense because it was about then Tony started to really get into his classes, they were his final two and both were moderate, nothing too hard, but it at least gave him an excuse to flit around the room, helping girls with their algorithms and just moving around, often clicking his fingers. He was always restless, unless he was truly and whole heartedly absorbed in something, he never sat still. He'd been helping a short blonde with a particularly nasty looking sum when it had happened, his name called loud and clear over the speakers.
"You wanted to see me~" Tony slapped his hands down on the desk in a rhythmic drumming beat. Why did no one ever look happy to see him? Or maybe it just wasn't his day. "Look Mr. Hogan, I know you love me, but you've got to stop calling me over here, juuust to see me, my picture is hanging in the...hall, somewhere." He attempted a joke, she didn't look Amused.
"Anthony-" Mr. Hogan began, he winced, because being called that really rubbed him the wrong way. It was like he'd walked out without pants or something, no one ever called him that unless he was in trouble.
--------
Tony in the winding corridor outside his class, it was almost bell time. Any moment the hall would irrupt with the comings and goings of students, bustling and jostling and being an all together nuisance to one another. But for now, it was free period, as far as he was concerned. The clock ticking was the only constant sound, sometimes the squeak of a far of sneaker would snap him from his thoughts enough to bring a glass to his eyes. Sometimes the clack of chalk on a black board, something along such lines. His finger tapped a consistant pattern on his knee cap for lack of a distraction, he could use a distraction just then. He'd started standing, only when full realization hit did the boy end up on the floor. The wall had proven to be a far less appropriate leaning place then it had appeared at first glance.
They didn't see him, and now it was too late. Could he have tried harder? He didn't think so. He felt smothered, where was air when you needed it? Where was oxygen, pure O, where was carbon? One part carbon two parts oxygen It should have been exiting his mouth in a steady flow. Oxygen in, Carbon out, One part Carbon, Two parts oxygen. Brown orbs trailing to the ceiling, 90.3820901° angle X adjacent to Hypotenuse- He closed his eyes, his brain scattered uncontrollably at times like this.
Howard Stark, never would get to signing that school form now. In fact, he wouldn't sign anything ever again. Tony started to get a sick feeling in his stomach, a churning sensation that made his head spin uncomfortably. He wouldn't sign anything again, because he was... dead. Maria Stark would never kiss his cheek, or frisk his hair again either. That hit Tony as surely as a slap across the face, or a freight train to the chest. He couldn't decide what was worse, the fact that both of them were gone. Or that the press had found out before their own son. The sound of foot steps shattered the ice of Tony's drifting. The noworphan looked up.
"...hi?" He said, though it sounded like a question. His voice was as steady as ever, and he half glared at you. Yup, he was very, VERY proud of himself for the effort.
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