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Fathers Day for Tony (Quick Fic)

For @shitshitshitshitwhy who asked for an Awkward!Spidey trying to say Happy Fathers Day to Tony

Tom Holland is Peter, of course RDJ is Tony.


Peter had been trying to talk to Tony all day.

First in the elevator that morning, as they headed up to Tony’s mandatory Sunday breakfast with the team. Peter had been thrilled to catch Tony alone for once, and had reached in his backpack for the small package and card he had bought yesterday, only to turn around and see Tony on his phone, talking loudly about the pillows on his bed and why they just weren’t fluffy enough, and yes he was aware pillows deflated, but he needed perpetually fluffy pillows.

Peter had just sighed and put the package away.


After breakfast when Tony and Happy were arguing over who to invite to the birthday party for Clint that weekend, Peter tried to talk to him again.

“Um, Mr Stark?” Peter cleared his throat nervously. “Mr Stark if you have a moment–”

“Do you think it would be obnoxious to decorate in purple?” Tony was saying and Happy nodded emphatically.

“Tony, Clint hates purple.”

“But Clint wears purple.” Tony countered.

“Mr. Stark.” Peter tried again. “I need like two seconds, just real quick.”

“Hey Underoos.” Tony said with a bright smile and Peter flushed a little in happiness. “Do you think Clint would shoot me with an arrow if I decorated his party in purple because Happy thinks—”

“I’ll come back.” Peter said dejectedly, and waved, completely unnoticed by them.

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raspberrypop135  asked:

Hey! I'm currently 14 and I'm practicing on some animation for a year! I always dream of joining a animation studio! But I feel they might reject me or I'll never achieve my dream! Do I need to go to college? Do I seriously need a degree? Do I need some supplies to pay? Is it easy to join?! Sorry, I've been stressing out about this earlier! Can you give me some advice on how can i work in a animation studio? Thank you!

This is a lot of questions!  First of all, I need to ask you to calm down.

Stress can be a powerful motivator, but too much stressing and you start going backwards!  Remember, hon: you’re fourteen.  You do have time!

The decision to go to college is a big one, and believe it or not, it IS optional.  Think about it this way: if you were an employer for an animation firm, what would you be looking for in an employee?  Would you care about grades and degrees?  Or would you care more about the potential employee’s portfolio and ability to do the work you require of them?

The fact of the matter is, while school is absolutely important and you should do your best to learn as much as possible from it, you also need to bear in mind that not everything is gonna depend on your report cards and framed degrees in the future.  I myself went to university and got my BFA in animation there, but that was more because I personally believed I would significantly benefit from the education I might receive there.  But college isn’t for everybody, and for some, it can be a huge financial burden.  If you have the drive to teach yourself and do your own work without being prompted, and you think you have the stuff it takes to learn what you need to know on your own, then college might not even be necessary for you.

Basically: it helps.  But it’s not a requirement, per se.

As for the animation industry itself, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it: it is EXTREMELY difficult to get your foot in the door.  This industry is massively competitive, so would-be animators need to keep pace.  It’s not just about who you know, or about your skill, or even about luck: it’s a scary combination of all three.  The most important thing to understand is that it usually takes time, and you’re gonna fail many times over before you succeed.

I had the extreme fortune of attending CTNX right when a studio was hiring, which was ALSO right when I was graduating, and the studio ALSO happened to be looking for somebody who could do exactly what I could do.  Of course, I wouldn’t have been at this event had I not put forth the effort to prove to my family (who gifted me the tickets) that I was capable of taking full advantage of an opportunity if it was presented to me, and that I had the stuff to make it if I just had a break.

I actually interviewed for two studios at CTNX, but was offered a job only by the one.  In other words: I was rejected by the other.  The rejection was mitigated by the fact that I was accepted at the same time, of course, however that was more a stroke of good timing and luck than a given.  Had I not gotten this acceptance, I’d have had to go home and resolve myself to try again and not give up just because I failed the first time.

With regards to your supplies, I can’t tell you everything you’re going to need specifically.  You’ll need a method of animation, of course, that you can use freely – mine is Clip Studio Paint EX, to draw in, combined with Adobe Premiere CS6, to assemble my animations.  There are plenty of other programs that’ll do both at once, but which one works for you is going to depend on you alone.  You’ll also need to understand that, in the studio, you’re not guaranteed to be using the same software as you use at home.  For that reason, you need to be flexible, and you need to resolve to be a quick learner.  Some employers will train you right on the job.  Others will throw you to the sharks, and you gotta quickly learn to catch up on your own.  But learning curve on the job is only with regards to the program – if you don’t know the basics and how to make a good product even on your own software, they won’t teach you that.

The biggest thing is that you’ll need to do your own research!  Asking for advice is an excellent start, but like I said, I can’t tell you everything you’re gonna need – some of that, you’ll need to figure out on your own.  And I know that’s scary, but don’t worry – you’ve got plenty of time.

As some parting comments, I recommend you pick up a book titled “The Animator’s Survival Kit,” written by master animator Richard Williams.  I also HEAVILY suggest you take some life-drawing courses, whether they’re with a school or just somewhere in your area.  Trust me: you can NEVER know enough about how to draw what’s around you.  And while learning to draw “realistic” things might seem counter-intuitive for animation, which usually calls for a much more simplified drawing style for efficiency’s sake, you gotta know the basic rules before you can bend them and change them and simplify them.  Study your favorite animated movies, and even the ones you don’t much care for.  Pay attention to HOW things move, and why certain motions work so well in the contexts they’re given.  Pay EXTRA attention to when something doesn’t seem to work, and try to figure out why that may be.  If you can, find somebody to explain these things to – teaching others is the fastest way to teach yourself.  (You could even use a stuffed animal or a pet as your audience – sometimes, it’s all about listening to yourself explain it.)

I’m in a very selfie bee mood lately as everything I have to do is piling up and I’m behind a couple of things I promised myself I’d make a priority. On the other hand, I have successfully completed a project that was going to take much longer so I’ll hopefully catch up soon. So, here’s me keeping up to date with my newest post, where I’ll be featuring the Natural World Tarot deck, created by Izabella Bastidas.

This is a major arcana only deck, which means that it doesn’t come with the minors (the suits). Hence, the total number of cards is 22. Each has been hand painted by Izabella to “beautifully illustrate the wonders of the natural world we live in”. Most of the beautiful, big, matte cards feature animals - mostly mammals and birds, but also some insects and a turtle. A couple of cards do not show any animals though, focusing on cloudy skies (with mesmerising colours) or, in the case of the Wheel of Fortune, a more symbolic approach.

The colour palette is soft and almost muted. The illustrations focus on the main element (mostly animals as I have mentioned) against a cream or black background, so they can be considered minimal. However, I like the magical effect that the tiny flowers and other details (like stars, moon phases and other more traditional symbols) give to the cards. The illustrations are framed by a thin, gold toned border, and then framed again by a thicker black border. The cards feature their roman numerals at the bottom, but no names are to be found. This keeps the cards cleaner and helps maintain the focus on the main element.

These flowers are also found in other design elements, like the backs, the sturdy custom designed flip top box, and the booklet - which by the way is a nicely bound and full coloured guide with 50 pages, written by Francesca Soluri. It contains the meaning for each card, as well as one elemental, planetary and zodiacal association for each.

The Natural World Tarot is a gentle deck, but it manages to be strong at the same time by harnessing the beauty and power of the animals and the natural forces of the world. Izabella creates images that you can’t stop looking at and that make you feel more in contact with nature, even if our circumstances restrict us to urbanized spaces. The illustrations can be purchased as separate prints, though I just really love how a deck is a ready-made collection of prints! Now I can only hope that a full deck is eventually published to see more of what Izabella has to offer!

This Is Us -Chapter 8

 Parenting Is Not  Spectator Sport 

While the notoriety surrounding the recent wikileaks articles had died down considerably, both he and Claire wanted to preserve their privacy as long as they could. Only a small, trusted handful of Jamie’s close family and friends knew what had happened and Claire had only told Joe.

The press had no inkling thus far. Jamie bought a car seat and sometimes drove on days when he needed to transport Faith. If he and Claire were taking Faith on an outing together, they sometimes arrived separately. He’d also taken to wearing a beanie to cover his hair and often wore sunglasses. He refused to be too paranoid about it, the nip of winter was still occasionally in the air and he’d noticed that people tended to pay less attention when they were bundled up. His focus was on spending as much time as he could with Faith and getting to know Claire.

Jamie had seen or spoken with Faith every day, becoming familiar with her  routine and Claire’s variable work schedule. He began to get a feel for his daughter’s moods and personality, the things she liked to eat, what interested her.

Mrs. Crooke was delighted that her early mornings and late evening hours were fewer and farther between with Jamie stepping in as he may to help Claire cover early morning drop offs and afternoon pick ups at the daycare centre and supper and bedtime when Claire had evening rounds. Mr. Crooke had just retired and they wanted to spend time together. Juggling schedules was a learning curve but they both made a real effort to accommodate one another; neither of them wanted to burst the fragile bubble they were currently existing within.

When Claire had an early call or Jamie late meetings, an unavoidable happenstance in each’s respective line of work, they would shift things around so Jamie could start his day with his daughter, instead of ending it. On those mornings, Jamie would skip his early run, getting to Claire’s while Faith was still asleep. Claire  would bid him a quick good morning as she hurried off to get to the hospital.

Her not too subtle plan was clearly to throw he and Faith together as often as possible and build their bond. He didn’t mind and in repayment of such trust he did his best to pay attention to the things she thought most important for Faith and hope he’d be able to keep his actions consistent with hers.

Faith was especially adorable when she first awoke, her hair resembled a bird’s nest full of twisting strands, chirping away to herself as she did her best to make her bed and get herself dressed. He respected how Claire was fostering her sense of independence and responsibility. So while it would have been quicker for him to help her do certain tasks and speed her along, he didn’t rush in first thing and take over the morning chores. Instead, he’d wait until the chatting grew to an audible pitch before checking in on her.

Faith would squeal in delight on the mornings he popped his head in to greet her. Her smile, the best part of his day. He’d take stock of how far she’d gotten on her own. Then he’d lend her a hand to straighten the bed, pick up the remaining impedimenta strewn across the floor. Then they would put the finishing touches on the day’s ensemble. Sometimes tights would need to be rerouted, snaps realigned. Faith had very definite ideas of color and pattern matching, which he’d learned to, if not accept, then at least ignore.

“She picks her clothes out the night before and lays them on the bench near her toy box.” Claire had explained. “I used to buy things that all matched and try and keep the outfit together but gave that up soon enough. The pants will be in the wash or the sweater’s gone missing, or Faith wants to try something else with the tee shirt.”

Jamie didn’t say anything as he followed her around while she showed him where everything was kept and how it usually worked, but something must have shown on his face as he took in tomorrow’s ensemble of mismatched green hues. She gave him a rueful smile.

“It’s fine, she is learning to figure out what she likes. Better clashing clothing as a toddler than a terrible tattoo as a teen.” She sagely observed.

He’d responded with noncommittal, “Mmphm.”

The combinations could be somewhat arresting, at least to his eye. But, in all fairness, he’d never paid a lot of attention to what Jenny’s lassies wore.

Then again, he had two good eyes, did he not?

One day shortly thereafter, a morning both parents were booked, it was up to Mrs. Crooke to cover. Jamie had picked her up from daycare to find her in yellow and red striped pants and a neon pink and orange floral shirt. He snapped a picture of her and texted it to Claire, sans comment.

“Your way of saying she needs better parental guidance?” She texted right back.

“Never a chance.” He replied with an emoji of someone crossing his heart.

“Bright lad,” came the response, delighting Jamie.   

By far the most difficult part of getting Faith ready in the morning had been the hair.  When he tried to comb it out Faith would squirm and cry out when the comb hit a snag.  Jamie was slightly traumatized by his first forays into being her stylist.

Claire had a deft touch and was able to ignore any protestations from Faith, brush never hesitating, simply getting what needed to be done done. Jamie thought that was the same pragmatic attitude that likely made her an excellent surgeon. Whether due to skill or familiarity, Faith seemed to tolerate it better from her than him.

After one particularly trying morning, in which Jamie gave up and shoved a hat onto her head instead of continuing a losing battle, he called Jenny. He’d never once heard his nieces complain or whine (nor had Ian come to think of it) and both of their lasses had hair longer that Faith’s.

“Please, tell me how? This morning there was a stramash like to wake the dead. I’m no’ going through it again, so what do ye know that ye havena seen fit to tell the rest of us?”

Jenny laughed but she knew that Jamie hated admitting defeat and worried he was hurting his daughter.

“Detangler,” she confessed promptly, “it’s sold in a wee bottle at the salon. It costs the earth but ye spray it on the hair before you comb and it takes care of most of it. As for the rest, divide the hair to sections, then take hold of one section at a time, grab the locks in one hand near the crown and hold tight wi’ the one hand whilst combing wi’ the other, it pulls less. Ye just slowly work the tines through and don’t pull down too hard.” She advised.

“Any other tips?” As long as he was already throwing himself upon his sister’s mercy, he thought he might as well go all in. Jenny hummed a little as she thought.

“She likes music?” Jamie mmhmed in the affirmative.

“Grab yer tablet and load it up with OK, Go videos, all of them, ye can’t go wrong. She’ll be nicely distracted until ye get the hang of it.”

Three mornings later, Jenny received a text from him.

“Blessings of Mary and Bride upon you, a miracle!” With a photo of Faith taken from behind her head, reflecting her face in the mirror, smooth, whole head with shiny ringlets aglow.

Half a minute later one more text, “Tho I canna taker her to the gym wi’ me. I’m scarrit what the lass might try!” With a picture of Faith mid-twirl in imitation of dancing on treadmills from Here It Goes Again and a big smile emoji.

The new morning hair protocol was such a hit, even Claire remarked upon it, praising him mightily. Jamie’s ears grew pink, perhaps he was getting a handle on this parenting thing after all.

Mornings were a rushed time of the day and perhaps that was why Jamie preferred afternoons and evening with Faith. He would leave the office, just a little earlier than usual in order to make the pick up and got to spend a few hours with her. While he had outfitted his own flat with enough child paraphernalia to keep Faith safe, more often than not, he’d bring her to Claire’s, letting himself into her flat with a spare key. Claire didn’t mind his being there and it was often much easier to keep Faith occupied on her home turf which allowed him to finish out his work day from Claire’s living room with minimal interruption.

On Claire’s later shifts, Jamie would prepare dinner with Faith. Claire laughed the first time she’d walked into the kitchen to see him in her “Kiss the Cook” frilly apron, a gag gift from Joe, who meant the kiss part to be aspirational but also knew how terrible her culinary skills were.

She’d framed the card that went with it and hung it near the stove. It read:

“Dearest LJ,

If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,

Your best chance is with a scalpel, not a spatula!”

Jamie kept using the apron, anyway. He liked the silly domesticity of it and it was, after all, hanging right there; it might as well get some use.

Living alone, Jamie rarely cooked but now he looked forward to it. He joked that he knew her kitchen much better than his own. Claire joked that he knew it better than she did, too and it was true.

Faith was curious about everything and willing to do her part, like her mother she was a doer and not a watcher. It was an easy way to spend time together. Claire had a colorful step ladder that Faith used to reach sink and countertop.

She would climb up to stand next to him and mix and stir and wash vegetables. They experimented with vegetables and sauces, different kinds of grains. He’d rarely given much thought to planning a meal but Faith gave him a great incentive to do so. Besides, she made it fun. If she liked something, you knew it, if she didn’t her lips would pucker and sounds of protest would quickly emerge.

Any veg that could be dipped apparently passed muster but she had suspicions about all leafy greens. Her deepest reservations concerned spinach and kale. They were “slimy.”

Thinking himself clever, he made a chicken noodle soup one evening and slipped some chopped kale into it. He popped the meal in front of her and, not making eye contact, picked up his spoon. She eyed it fishily without doing the same. He knew she was watching his spoon as it travelled from bowl to mouth.

“No’ hungry, Faith?” he tried to sound matter of fact.

“What’s it?” She finally asked.

“Chicken soup. Ye like it, and I used the swirly noodles with all the colors.” He helpfully added, focusing on positive attributes.

“Mmphm.” Her mouth formed a hard line.

Jamie bit the inside of his cheek, recognizing where she had picked that expression up.

“Carrots and potatoes, a  little onion, too.” He added, she loved all of those.

At that moment, a shred of the kale slipped off of his spoon and hung unceremoniously from the underside directly in her line of sight.

“Nooo!” she cried out. Her pouting lips started to shake and tears suddenly maring her round cheeks.

Her voice rose in pitch and volume. “Out! Out! Ickies!”

The look of hurt betrayal in her eyes was far, far worse than spending a half an hour trying to pick out all the kale bits before ultimately concluding it a lost cause. As he stirred her mac and cheese, a reparation offered for his transgressions, he realized that he should have made two versions, a larger one he knew she would have no objections to and a smaller version with the kale to try.

When Claire came home, he promptly confessed.

“You brute! Is it the sin of commission for adding in the offensive veg or the sin of omission for selective ingredient listing that you seek absolution for, my lad?”

“Both.” he admitted. “The look on her face,” he shook his head back and forth. “The memory will give me the nightmare for sure. Her eyes grew big and her lip started to quiver. Ye’d ha’ thought I’d added Jane into the soup!” He shivered in memory.

“Parenting,” she blithely observed, “isn’t a spectator sport. It can be a messy business. Te Absolvo, Jamie.” Claire made the sign of the cross and kissed his cheek.

In sympathy perhaps, she ate an extra helping of the tainted soup and pronounced it delicious, he smiled as his ears turned a light shade of pink.

When he couldn’t be there in person, Jamie contented himself with a brief call. They found that while Faith was still too young to be interested in talking on the phone she adored “face-timing.” Faith would always end calls by giving him a “kiss” which, in all good manners he would need to return, with great enthusiasm.

Then Faith would invariably say, “now Mama!” and insist he do the same with Claire. His antics never failed to make her laugh and Claire smile. Jamie found himself oddly comforted by it, knowing that no matter what stressors and difficulties Claire had faced at work, at the end of the day, he put a smile on her face.

His favorite times by far though occurred when their schedules aligned and the three of them could have dinner together. In the quiet domesticity of her cozy kitchen they became accustomed to one another, in the small acts of setting table, passing bread, doing dishes. Jamie would always stay and help Faith with her pjs and put her to bed.

Claire looked forward to such evenings as well. She tried to be discrete as she watched from the doorway. She knew he didn’t mind her there but she wanted to give Jamie as much time with Faith as possible, trying her best to make up for the missing months between father and daughter. Not because it was her fault, but because had the situation been reversed, she understood how that loss would make her feel and what might help her make peace with it.

Whether Jamie told a tale from his own childhood or Faith picked out a book from her shelf, he was always entertaining.  He had a lovely ear for dialogue and the characters sprung to life whenever he told a story.

Then he and Faith would play a quick round of modified “I Spy.” A simple way to teach her Gaelic. Each would go around the room and point to something and say the English world and then the Gaelic one, taking turns. The furniture, the stuffed animals, the images on artwork lining the walls. If Claire was still in the doorway, Jamie would usually include Claire in the game.

Every time he pointed to Claire, Faith would say Mama, but then when he would point to himself she just giggled or shrugged. This was an oddity not even Claire could explain. They’d given her lots of choices: Pa, Papa, Dada, Daddy, Dad, even Father but she refused to be rushed. He did his best not to feel a little disappointed. Ah, well, give it time, he would remind himself.

Jamie would kiss her forehead and whisper good night. Often, afterwards he and Claire would sit together for a little while before he left, sharing some wine and talking of things Faith related and of their own days as well.

Jamie came to understand how challenging her job was, how deeply she cared for her patients. He began to read her better, to know when something was bothering her. She had a terrible poker face but he was impressed that she would set such matters aside when she was with Faith. He understood without asking that Claire didn’t normally unburden herself. Jamie didn’t think she let too many people close to her heart. He didn’t mind in the least that he was becoming one of those few.

The only fly in the ointment thus far had been the unavoidable fact that Claire was a toucher, reaching her arm out when wanting to get his or Faith’s attention. She was also a hugger. She would sometimes give him a sweet kiss on the check in hello or good bye. He thought it must just come naturally to her and she probably had no idea she was even doing it at all, let alone with deliberation.

When they would sit together, he noticed how expressive she was with her hands, they’d roll out or curve up, accenting her story. Every now and then she would catch him staring at them and smile in question. What could he say?

I look at your hands because I imagine how they might feel on me? My mouth goes dry thinking of how you held my hand the other day when we walked with Faith to the car but you didn’t even realize you’d done it?

When you hug me as we laugh helplessly about something Faith did that day, you have no idea how much I want to pull you tighter in my arms, how badly I want you to do it again. Have you not noticed that I always let you determine how closely we are held together and for how long?

That you’ve set me on fire and I have to curl my hand into a fist and bite my tongue to stop myself from showing you exactly what I want those hands to do next?

Jamie said nothing, of course and yet…yet something got stuck between his heart and his mouth at such moments and he wondered if she felt it too.