She noticed many things, sitting on her side of her fence with her cats chasing butterflies and nuzzling her ankles, Mundungus and the other watchers dropping by for tea now and then.
Mrs. Figg noticed that Petunia was a nosy bit of work with insecurities hanging from her every harsh angle. She noticed when Dudley learned the word MINE– the whole neighborhood noticed that one. She noticed that Vernon glared at owls.
She noticed that when Petunia gave Harry a truly horrendous haircut one year, it grew back in at a normal rate. Harry was uneven and weird-looking for ages, hiding under beanies when he could.
When Mrs. Figg had Harry over for carefully miserable afternoons of babysitting, she noticed nothing moved that shouldn’t. He didn’t accidentally make flowers out of fallen leaves, or levitate anything during tantrums, or turn toys funny colors.
Mrs. Figg called up her mother, interrupting the wizarding bridge game she was winning against the nursing home staff, and asked her how she had known, decades back, that her youngest daughter was a squib.
When Albus Dumbledore received Mrs. Figg’s letter he wrote back a polite thank you and then went to talk with Minerva McGonagall, who inhaled sharply in horror when he told her the news.
Finally, McGonagall gave a gathered sigh. “I suppose we can ask one of the wizarding families to homeschool him,” she said. “We can’t have the Boy Who Lived not knowing about his own world.”
“No, he’ll come to Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore.
“Hogwarts is not a place for–” Her voice fell. “–squibs, Albus.”
Dumbledore shook his head. “Harry must be taught.”
“Be taught what, Albus?”
But Dumbledore just sighed and offered her a lemon drop.
Years later, the owls and the letters came to 4 Privet Drive. The Dursleys ran, dragging Harry with them, and the letters and one stubborn gamekeeper followed– none of this would change with a magicless Harry.
When Hagrid asked Harry in that little cabin on that little rock in the middle of the sea if weird things always happened around him, Harry couldn’t tell him about vanishing glass and setting captive snakes free, about ending up somehow on the school roof, or growing his hair out overnight.
“Strange things always happen around you, don’ they?”
“Um,” said Harry, racking his brain. “Well… I live in a cupboard under the stairs…”
Harry could tell him about how snakes sometimes talked back, because that had never been Harry’s magic, but when he did Hagrid just blanched and changed the subject.
Hagrid held out hope, even against Dumbledore’s quiet warning explanations, until they made it to Ollivander’s Wands. Harry marveled at Diagon Alley, got his hands shaken in the Leaky, pressed his nose up against shop windows. Hagrid watched the scant boy– looked at James’s messy hair, Lily’s eyes, Harry’s own wandering gaze– and he wondered how this boy could be anything but magical.
In the wand shop, Ollivander said, “James Potter, yes… mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable. A powerful wand for Transfiguration.” He said, “And your mother, Lily… strong in Charms work, ten and… yes, ten and a quarter, willow, swishy.”
Harry picked up stick after wooden stick. They remained just that– wood with bits of feather or scale or hair. Harry wondered if the creatures who gave these offerings were still alive– if they were given or taken. What did it do to your wand when they died? He waved a maplewood wand (unicorn hair, eleven inches) and a gust from the door opening blew some receipts off the counter.
“Well, said Ollivander. “I think that’s as close as we’re likely to get.”
He sent them out with the maplewood. Hagrid bought Harry a snowy owl and a fudge sundae and tried not make it too obvious that these were condolence gifts. The next day the Prophet’s headlines read: The Boy Who Lived– A Squib? Various magical medical experts weighed in on how it might have happened. Fingers were pointed at childhood trauma, at his upbringing, at his family lineage.
Harry still met Ron on the train– Ron was still smudge-nosed and Harry still bought enough candy to share. When Molly had helped him through the platform entrance, her voice had been a little softer, a little more pitying– but it was still better than the laughter that had been in his aunt and uncle’s voices when they dropped him here to find a platform they didn’t think existed.
Hermione Granger dropped by their compartment, looking for Neville’s toad, but got distracted when she spotted Harry. “I’ve read about you! In my books, and in the paper,” she said. “You’re the Boy Who Lived, and you’re a squib.”
Harry sank down in his seat. Ron hid Scabbers under a candy wrapper.
“Squibs have never been allowed in Hogwarts,” Hermione announced. “According to Hogwarts, A History, squibs try to sneak in now and then– the furthest anyone’s ever gotten is to the Sorting Hat before they got found out.” At eleven, Hermione still believed in expulsion being worse than death. Her voice was thrumming with sympathetic horror.
“But they already found out about me,” Harry said, alarmed.
“It’s alright, mate,” said Ron. “You’re Harry Potter. Oy, Granger,” he added. “What’s this Hat? Fred and George were trying to sell me some story about having to fight a mountain troll to get your House…”
Harry sat back and watched the countryside rush by. Yes, he was Harry Potter– his aunt’s useless sister’s useless child, the boy in the lumpy hand-me-down sweaters who named the spiders who lived in his cupboard. And here, in new world, he was apparently useless too.
When they got to Hogwarts, Harry clenched his fists and stood in line with the other first years. He barely twitched at the ghosts or Peeves, just stared ahead and thought about how far he would get before they turned him around and sent him back to Vernon and Petunia.
They opened the Great Hall doors. They called the first years one by one. Harry clenched his teeth and walked up to the Hat when they called his name.
As he turned to sit down on the stool, he really caught sight of the Hall for the first time– the hovering candles, the big wooden tables, the black robes that swallowed the light. Translucent ghosts gossiped with the students beside them. The paintings on the far walls– were they moving?
Harry’s jaw had unclenched, falling open. His fists curled open, curving around the stool’s seat as he leaned forward to stare. If this was it, if this was as far as he’d get in this world, then he wanted to drink it all in. The candles were floating, in mid-air.
The Hat dropped down over his eyes and blocked out the light.
Well, said the dry voice that had been hollering House placements all night. What do we have here?
Ron had been begging for not-Slytherin. Draco from the robes shop had been scornful of Hufflepuff, desperate in his disdain. Neville had begged for Hufflepuff, sure he was not brave enough for Gryffindor.
The way the media has been treating Ryan Reynolds and Josh Brolin’s dynamic during the Deadpool 2 promotion tour is giving me an insight into how all these homophobic fanboys can look past how blatantly queer the film is:
They think it’s all a fucking joke.
Josh Brolin has said repeatedly that he’s had a crush on Ryan Reynolds for a long time. That he admires him, that he finds him attractive, that his feelings for Ryan are complicated and unrequited but real.
And yet all I’m seeing are articles and youtube compilations about Josh’s “hilarious” “man crush” and how “funny” it is every time Josh talks about Ryan or they interact.
And I would suspect it was intentionally meant to be part joking and part queerbaiting for the purpose of fanning the movie’s hype except that:
Josh is out there correcting people who call it a bromance – saying “It’s a real romance”.
He’s having to tell people that “It’s not a joke”.
He’s calling interviewers out for laughing.
He’s saying that the only reason he feels weird admitting it is because people are treating his crush as funny.
And this audience attitude is the same one that allows Deadpool to come onto Colossus with the exact same context and tone he came onto Vanessa in the first film, and still lets straight fuckboys think it’s a joke.
It’s why Cable and Deadpool can explicitly flirt, and even have Cable do something as hugely self-sacrificing and romantic for the other man as he does, but there will still be people hypothesising that their strong connection is because Cable’s wife is Deadpool’s daughter or something.
At first I was annoyed that the film was too chicken to end with the two characters getting together, even though (without spoiling it for you) it wouldn’t have felt quite right for the plot so soon.
But now I’m suspecting that even if we’d had a passionate, candle-lit sex scene between Cable and Deadpool, these douchebags would still think it was some hilarious joke.
The franchise can capitalise on that homophobia to get more queerness into the movies, and to be honest it probably already has.
But I’m doubtful that they can do anything that’ll get through the thick skulls of these fuckboy-fanboys.
I haven’t seen the movie just yet, and i don’t doubt what you’re saying! H o w e v e r, I’d really like some sources or at least a point in the direction to find those specific interviews with Josh Brolin!
Sure! There’s so many interview videos out there right now, some with only a couple hundred views, and I wish I’d bookmarked all the relevant ones for now but alas I didn’t. Here are a few which hopefully get my point across, but there’s more like it:
Josh: I mean he’s tall, he’s ha- … Why am I talking about Ryan Reynolds so much? Jimmy: You have a man crush on Ryan Reynolds? Josh: I do! I don’t- [Jimmy laughs] Josh: I feel weird admitting it in front of you because you’re laughing at me right now, but I feel… I feel confidence in my- [Josh gets awkward and hides behind a magazine]
Will Njobvu: Now, I’m seeing this bromance blossoming between you and Ryan Reynolds, even a bit on screen, and- Josh: I think it’s more of a romance. Will: A romance? Josh: Like, a real romance. Will: Really!? Josh: I like him, man. What’s not to like? I like not liking him. It’s a lot of fun to have friction and tension between Ryan Reynolds and myself. Y’know, we can talk about the characters, and the Deadpool and Cable thing, but it has nothing to do with that; it’s him and me.
He looks genuinely upset in the first gif. Poor guy.
fucking let people have casual same sex crushes
it’s not a joke
just cos he’s ~conventionally masculine~ doesn’t make it funy
what a brave dude
fuck
he looks genuinely upset in the third gif too and that is really pissing me off. he shouldn’t be made fun of and nobody should be made fun of like this. wtf is wrong with people.
yeah but lets be real here if it meant I could live in a world with completely free healthcare and take tours across entire countries on foot with superpowered animal/else companions I would fight a hundred fucking beedrill at once naked with only a butter knife
as i say every time i see this post,
you can catch beedrill and earn the purest fucking love from its little bee heart with a muffin you earn playing a minute of yarn toss
beedrill is not your enemy
Let’s think about life in the Pokemon world for a minute…
First of all, there’s universal free healthcare across the planet. That’s more that a lot of places in our world can say. Moreover, fresh water on this world is apparently so nutrient-rich that it can cure moderate injuries, to say nothing of what berries can do. Therefore, the inhabitants of this world are probably very physically healthy, and those with disabilities (who by default cannot be “healthy”) don’t have to worry about losing their healthcare due to lack of money.
Politics-wise, there isn’t much of a government. Despite this, the world seems relatively peaceful. Private individuals, some as young as eleven, can be expected to deal with crime themselves. War has occurred in the past, but the general political sentiment appears to be very anti-war – cruelty is strongly frowned upon.
Economically, it’s true that there are some people with economic issues – like that one dude in Mauville Hills in ORAS – but generally there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of homelessness or poverty. Some people are more well-off than others – vastly so in some cases – but largely poverty doesn’t seem to exist.
Then there’s the wildlife.
Strange, supernatural creatures of unknown origin and great power populate this planet. An unarmed adult human is no match for even one of these creatures. But the vast majority of the wildlife is extremely friendly to the point where it’s almost all domesticated. Small children are given these creatures as companions and allowed to go out into the open world with them, as they will be safe and able to survive.
Even the scariest of these monsters can be tamed with love and care. Beedrill will love you if you toss yarn at it, sure. So will things like Gyarados, Hydreigon, and the Pokemon equivalent of Lucifer. No Pokemon is untameable so long as you are kind to it.
This in turn has fostered a culture of kindness. It is infinitely more rewarding to be kind to the living creatures around you. Those who are cruel are quickly steamrollered by those who build up close, loving bonds. Even then, a lot of people are concerned that this society of love and kindness is somehow too cruel (to the point where it was the entire plot of gen V).
That love and kindness is extended to all humans. People trust random strangers who walk into their homes. Items are randomly just given out on the street, often for no reward beyond a warm fuzzy feeling. Almost comical levels of generosity and acceptance are expected on this planet. And if you decide to betray that and take advantage of people…
Well, I hope you like having your ass kicked by an adorable eleven-year-old with a nice hat and a yarn-loving Beedrill.
THIS IS SO NICE
I LOVE THIS POST
fun fact, a myth in the pokemon world (specifically DPP) states that pokemon where worried about humans surviving on there own! so they all spoke about how to look after these squishy notpokemon, and they came up with the idea to be companions and friends. so whenever a human that’s trustworthy walks into the grass they present themselves, if a human earns there respect in battle they will aid that human as long as they are needed every pokemon that appears in cave, surfing and tall grass canonically wants to be your friend also unless you use a master ball if a pokemon does not want to be caught It Can’t Be. it’s only by showing of your skill in battle that a pokemon will want to join you. so even legendaries want to be your friend!! that’s why some legendary Pokemon (usually ones who present themselves to you) have low catch rates! they respect you and understand you can use there skill for good!
edit cause i remembered: this could also be used to explain why traded pokemon can disobey you, you didn’t earn the respect of there actual trainer and so you have to have the right skill level (badges, island challenges) for them to listen and trust you
This whole thing is so pure and way better than “Pokemon is superpowered dogfighting!” or whatever.
hello please imagine bruce wayne calling his boyfriend clark kent “superman” as a pet name in the press all the time like he just “he’s my superman” w a million heart eyes and clark just sighs for the next three hundred years
Stark Tower has literally got the best wifi in the whole of New York and Tony makes it free as well so sometimes he’ll walk out of the ground floor and just see like a dozen or so people, usually kids, just sat on the doorstep on their phones or laptops and like it’s such a little thing to do but yknow. He’s Ironman. Give the kids some damn fast wifi.
okay BUT
the day after actual tony stark saw them hanging out in frony of the Tower, some of the kids were reluctant to go back there but God they had to finish their homework and the tower was on their way from school so they go back there and
theres a separate room that surely mustve been some important part of the lobby yesterday but now had a “Free WiFi Zone” plate on the door. Inside were huge sofas and armchairs and beanbags, fridges stocked with various drinks, a coffee maker and 20ish iron man mugs, a couple of laptops on the desk near the wall and a note for them to read:
“This is your part of the Tower now. Use whatever you need, no time limit, and stay in school kids 🙂 – T. S.”
So I uh… went to write a short, cute drabble for this and… I ended up writing a nearly 3k long fic? Whoops? This got away from me. I regret nothing.
It started with Wi-fi. Wi-fi of all things. Tony found out by accident.
“What’s going on out here?” Tony asked, sliding his sunglasses down a bit to look at the group of teenagers sitting in front of the Tower.
All the teens looked up at once, eyes wide like deer caught in headlights. They looked at each other, then back at Tony.
“Um, well…” A brunet spoke up, closing his laptop. “The Avengers Tower has great Wi-fi, sir. And it’s free. We all… some of us don’t have access to Wi-fi at home, and we need it for school projects.”
Tony blinked. “Oh. Okay. Study hard, then.” He adjusted his sunglasses again and walked into the Tower without a second thought.
But later that day, Tony keeps thinking about it. Can’t get it out of his head, until he goes so far to have FRIDAY pull up security camera footage from in front of the Tower over the past few weeks.
There are kids there, always, Tony finds. Anywhere from ten to nearly fifty, all crowded around the Tower, sitting on the grass. Even at night or in shitty weather, there were at least a few.
And sure, Tony was fine with it. More than fine with it, even. If kids wanted to use Tony’s Wi-fi, he on board with it. Tony was completely with the idea of accessible technology.
So it hung out in the back of Tony’s mind, and he smiled at the group of the teens he saw every time he walked in and it the Tower. He made sure security didn’t bother them, and left them to their devices.
But the thoughts of it wouldn’t leave Tony’s brain. A part of him ached a little at the idea of the kids who were so needing of a damned Wi-fi connection they would sit in the rain for it. It got to the point that Tony was lying awake in bed, thinking about it.
“FRIDAY, are there any vacant floors in the Tower?” Tony asked, staring at the ceiling.
“There are three vacant floors,” FRIDAY answered in a chipper voice.
Tony sat up. “FRIDAY, order a shit ton of junk food and furniture. We have work to do.”
And so it began. Within a week, Tony had a large room on its own floor completely dedicated to being an expansive lounge. It had all sorts of furniture, shelves stocked with every food Tony could think of, a fridge full of drinks, an espresso machine, and over a dozen outlets. It was close to the bottom floor, easily accessible by the elevator. Tony talked to Happy and reorganized his entire security so that anyone could walk into the Tower and go straight to the lounge.
The first day, there were already over twenty teens milling around, laptops plugged in and noses in books. It made Tony smile and feel warm in ways he couldn’t describe, seeing the tranquil environment of kids studying. The numbers grew over time, and Tony made sure it was kept accessible 24/7.
So it started with Wi-fi. But after that, things got more… complicated.
Tony was in the lounge, taking an inventory of what needed to be restocked. Sure, he had people for that, but it was nice to show his face every so often, remind the kids he existed.
Tony finished writing down how many bags of Doritos were on the shelf and spun around, crashing right into someone.
“Oh fuck,” Tony stumbled, catching the person by their elbows. A pair of startled green eyes stared up at him in horror. “Hey. Hi.” Tony smiled. “Sorry about that. Wasn’t looking where I was going. My fault.”
The girl stared at him, breathing hard. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”
“Hey, no. My fault, remember?” Tony soothed. “I’m responsible for at least fifty per cent of the accidents in this Tower.”
“Actually, you’re responsible for sixty-seven point nine per cent.” FRIDAY chirped.
Tony frowned. “Is that counting the incident on Thursday?”
“You did hold fifty per cent of the blame.” FRIDAY reminded him.
“Twelve per cent, at most,” Tony argued. He looked back at the girl. “Thor tried to put a raw egg in the toaster, it’s a long story.”
The girl gave a confused, shy smile. Tony counted that as some kind of victory.
Tony went to let go of the girl’s elbows when his gaze brushed over her forearm. “Hey.” Tony’s voice was softer. “Are you okay?”
The girl froze again, biting her lip. “No- it’s fine, I don’t-” Her face turned red. But not as red as the angry lines cut into her wrist.
“You wanna talk?” Tony asked, eyebrows knit together.
“You-you’re busy I shouldn’t-”
“FRIDAY, cancel the afternoon meeting. Or tell them I’m not coming,” Tony said without hesitation. “There, I’m free.”
The girl frowned. “You didn’t have to do that. It’s fine, really.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Come on, kid. Let’s talk, okay?” He sighed at her hesitance. “Hey, what’s the worst I can do? I’m just some rich guy.”
With a begrudging smile, the girl took Tony’s hand and Tony lead them to an empty storage room, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.
“What’s your name?” Tony asked.
“Cecilia,” The girl mumbled.
“Hi, I’m Tony.” Tony introduced with a bright smile. Cecilia laughed. “So you wanna talk about this?” He pointed to her wrist.
“I…” Cecilia cleared her throat. “It’s hard, you know? School is hard, and I’m not good enough to do anything right, and…” She swallowed. Cecilia covered her face, choking on a sob.
Tony scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You wanna know something, kid?”
Cecilia looked up.
“I am one of the richest men alive, have been named Sexiest Man Alive three times, have my last name attached to a fortune five hundred company, have been called one of the leading minds of the 21st century, am a member of the goddamned Avengers and…” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “And I feel the same way. All the time. I wake up worried that someday everyone’s gonna see through me, see the fraud I really am.” Tony cleared his throat. “I have anxiety attacks. I wake up screaming from nightmares. I avoid mirrors. And some days I don’t want to wake up at all.
“But I do. Because there are people who need me to. And maybe it’s more for me than you. But it’s not about numbers. Quantity holds no value the quality. As long as there’s one person who cares, you’ve got a reason to wake up in the morning.” Tony thought a moment. “And if you’ve got no one else, then I count, right?”
There was a long stretch of awkward silence, but the shy smile Tony got made it all worth it.
After that, Tony invested in having free, confidential, no strings attached therapists at the Tower for the kids who came to study. He started with five, but by the end of the month, Tony had seven full time and three part-time working at the Tower. Tony did briefly see Cecilia’s face every now and then, and she seemed happier. That made it all worth it.
After that, everything was a downward spiral. Someone put a suggestion box on the door, and the teens who stayed wrote their ideas down. Tony read every single one. Even the stupid ones. And he listened.
First, there were showers installed in the bathrooms. Tony noticed there were certain faces that showed up more than others, so often it was almost concerning. So Tony figured they might as well freshen up while there. The showers were equipped with towels, soap, and all other necessities.
After the showers came the storage room filled with other living supplies. Blankets, food items, clothing, some basic tech, gift cards for local supermarkets, toiletries. Anything Tony could think of required for living. Like everything else, anyone could take anything, no questions asked.
Then came the library. There were suggestions for a supply of the review books and textbooks for the classes students were taking, and Tony decided to go in all or nothing. The library was filled wall to wall with every modern textbook and review book in the curriculum, as well as an expansive amount of leisure reads as well. Tony stocked it with comfortable seating, computers and tablets as well. There were no late fees, Tony refused to make any of the kids pay a damned dime for things they should have basic access to.
And then there were physical doctors as well. Ones who could give flu shots and prescribe at least the most basic of medications and advice.
After that, the gym just seemed to be common sense. As the recommendations in the box pointed out, public gyms were expensive. So Tony set up a gym. Granted it wasn’t Avengers level, but it was a damned nice gym.
Tutors came next. Private tutors, as well as ones that would teach entire groups. Tony managed to wrestle with the local schools to even get the kids credit for some of the tutorings.
After that, things finally seemed to mellow out. Tony drew up a list of rules, but most of the teens were pretty decent about keeping things civil. Tony was damned proud to average only one incident a month.
The Avengers found out about the Student’s Lounge as it’d be dubbed, and they frequented it more than Tony expected. He found Clint down there telling stories that were probably classified, Natasha showing a group of girls ballet moves, Thor showing off trinkets from Asgard, Steve drawing with a group of art kids, Sam giving serious talks on mental health, and so on. It was nice.
And it worked. Kids were happy and studying, but also had a place to relax and unwind. Tony did have to get an ungodly number of permits and licenses to do what he did, but it was all beyond worth it to see the kids smiling and being safe.
It was a year later when Tony was working in his workshop with jeans and a tank top and FRIDAY caught his attention.
“Mr Stark, your presence has been requested in the Student’s Lounge,” FRIDAY said, cutting into the silence.
Tony frowned. “Is it an emergency?”
There was a pause. “No, but the students are rather insistent.”
“Fine.” Tony stood up with a sigh. “Tell them I’ll be down there in a minute.”
Tony took the elevator down to the floor that was now entirely monopolized by the Student’s Lounge. As soon as the doors opened he found himself standing in front of a few dozen teens, all crowded around and waiting.
“Is this some club meeting or a cult initiation?” Tony asked, sliding his grease-covered hands into his pockets.
A teen stepped forward, a blond boy with bright eyes and a nervous smile. “Uh, hi. We… we had something we wanted to share with you.” He was holding note cards, absently tapping them.
Tony glanced around. “Well then, shoot.” He spread his hands.
The blond cleared his throat, looking down at the cards. “We hear the saying a lot,” He read, “that it’s impossible to shop for a man who has everything. And with you, that couldn’t be more true. A genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, and an amazing person all around. You truly have everything, Mister Stark.
“And yet, you give. You give, and you give. You gave us a place to study that became so much more. Beyond the material items, this place has become a home for all of us. For those of us who don’t have food to eat at home, books to read, clothes to wear, a family to come home to. All because you wanted to give some kids a good Wi-fi connection. You created a family. This year alone, the graduation rate grew ten per cent from last year, and we don’t think it’s a coincidence. And we’re all confident with your help, that number will grow more and more.
“You created jobs for the community. We did the math and figured at least fifty new jobs were created through the Student’s Lounge. And you pay for all of it out of pocket. You don’t need to. You’ve already saved the world more than enough times, given millions of dollars to charity. And yet you did this for a group of kids sitting on your front lawn just to get a decent Wi-fi connection.
“There are no words to describe the kindness that takes. The amount of time you’ve put towards this proves it’s so much more than a publicity stunt. Not only do you personally oversee everything, but you stop by weekly, even if just to say hi. You listen to what we have to say. In a world that makes it so easy to ignore teenagers, you put every ounce of effort into doing the complete opposite. And your effort didn’t go unnoticed.” The blond stepped aside and let a redhead girl stand in the middle instead.
“My name is Miranda.” The girl spoke up. “A year ago, I was addicted to heroin and struggling in all of my classes. I was… I was ready to drop out of school altogether, even considered selling my own body just for drug money. But a friend dragged me here and… and I got therapy. A doctor. Food. All things my family struggled to afford. My recovery is still slow going, but thanks to you, I can say I’m in recovery, to begin with. Thank you.” Miranda stepped to the side and a black haired boy took her place.
“I’m Ian. My parents abused me, and I had nowhere to go. Even after coming here to spend my afternoons, I was hesitant to overstay my welcome. But I wasn’t ever judged, and always felt safe here. I was able to work up enough courage to run away and start spending nights here. Eventually, I met a friend here who let me stay with them, but not once did I have to know how it felt to be homeless. This place was my home, the entire time, even now that I sleep somewhere else. You gave me a home. Thank you.”
And so it went on, each kid telling their own version, and Tony wasn’t even ashamed to admit he was openly crying before they even got through ten. And he listened. To every single one. Tried to remember names and important details, make mental notes for future reference. Tony watched and listened, entranced by every story.
The first boy stepped back up. “And I’m Ben. I don’t really have a sob story, but I do know that this place is a home for every single person here. We’re a family of brothers and sisters, and you’re, for lack of better wording, the cool dad. So thank you. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you. So much. We hope our family can grow, and this home will only get better with each day. So while we don’t have any gift, we hope this can stand as one. Our stories are something that you gave us, and we hope by sharing them you can understand how much you mean to all of us.” The boy, Ben, lowered his notecards and smiled. “Thank you.”
Tony stared at them, wiping tears away from his eyes. “You’re all assholes.” He decided. “I am supposed to be a suave billionaire, and here you’ve got me crying like a dumbass.”
The teens all laughed.
“You know what?” Tony clapped his hands together. “This deserves a pizza party. Domino’s is about to hate me. Does anyone have any dietary restrictions? Start writing up a list while I find a phone number.”
“Don’t you have stuff to do?” A brunette girl who Tony remembered to be Cassie asked.
Tony shrugged. “It’s fine, I’ll do it in the morning.”
“Miss Potts has asked for the schematics to be uploaded by midnight,” FRIDAY spoke up.
“Pepper has been working for me long enough to know ‘by midnight’ means by noon the next day. It’s fine.” Tony waved off. “Come on, start writing a list. If I don’t see at least one gluten-free pizza, I’m making you do it again.”
The teens all smiled and started writing and shouting at each other. Tony watched with a happy sigh. They were a family.
I hate when bird parents get mad at me for rescuing their children.
Don’t want me touching your kid? Fine, YOU crawl down there and use YOUR super-dexterous hands with opposable thumbs to gently lift your son out of this window-well. Oh, you can’t do that? Then shut up and stop swooping me, you ungrateful leftover dinosaurs.
when dinosaur is both an insult and accurate
I missed the fact you said bird parents and thought this was about the kids at summer camp
thisacelovesheadcanons 