You wake up in a bed. In the med bay, if the constant beeping is anything to go by. There’s more than a few wounded to keep the doctors busy, so it takes nothing to slip out. You make your way to a bathroom and slip inside, locking the door behind you. Carefully you unbutton you blouse and your slacks. You steel your nerves and look in the mirror.
The mark wraps around your leg, starting at your thigh and climbing it’s way up to your hip. It’s a sea of flowers with small birds, and spiders woven in, and at the top is a butterfly. It a beautiful mixture of color.
You quickly cover it. When you make an appearance back at the command center it’s to find that the helicarrier has been damaged. Nick gives you a knowing look as you step into command. There’s silence as he analyzes the clean up of New York City, and then he says, “I hear you’re bonded to two of my top agents.”
You keep your attention on the screen, “Apparently.”
“I had a hell of a time getting them into the city. They wanted to stay with you.”
You take a breath, “Does anyone else know?”
You nod, “Do me a favor and keep it that way … for now.” He nods, and you give him your business smile, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be going.”
You catch a ride on one of the remaining quinjets, and from there you head to the airport. It’s a hell of a time getting on a plane and heading to Los Angeles, but you manage it. Once there, you head home. An apartment in a decent part of town.
You work from home for several days, until Tony makes the call. He needs you in New York, and he needs you now. You don’t catch much information from his babbling but you agree. You’re on the next flight out.
Happy is the one to greet you at the airport. He’s holding a chauffeur’s sign that says, “Pain in my ass.”
You hit him with it once you reach him. Happy talks about the weather and the latest UFC fights as you drive. You don’t understand his fascination with the sport, but you show polite interest. As you reach the city you stare at the devastation, and Happy’s talking fades away. When you arrive, you take a second to stare at the ruined Stark tower. You can already see robots working on fixing it, and you smile as you enter.
The sound of chatter hits your ears the minute the elevator door opens. You say nothing as you slip into the room where Tony is arguing over the phone. Pepper sees you first, and offers you a small smile. You give her one back, and then you listen. “Look, no offense Fury, but your agents are morons. Plain and simple. Keep them away from my assistant.”
“Stark, you and I both know that I don’t have that power. They are on the hunt, and not even God can save you if you hide her from them.”
Tony’s eyes flicker towards you, and you raise an eyebrow in question. Tony sighs, and
simply says, “Please hold.” And presses a button before Fury can say anything else. He’s blunt, as always, “Why’d you run?”
“I have my reasons.”
“You want to keep running?”
“Figure it out, and quick.” You nod and then he adds, “Also see if you can get me a meeting with the president. I may need his help on something.” You roll your eyes and leave the room.
You head to what has been designated as your room. A tired feeling washes over you, as you step off the elevator and into the hallway. One retinal scan later finds you in the safety and comfort of plush carpeting and an even plusher bed.
That’s when you see her. She’s dressed in leggings and a tee-shirt, she looks more normal than you’ve ever seen her. She smiles at you, “Figured you’d come here eventually.”
You shift from one foot to another, “Did you?”
“The minute Stark found out he’d bring you in close. I just had to wait.”
You nod, and she scoots over in a clear indication of wanting you to sit. You do so, taking a seat next to her, and slipping your feet out of the heels. Her voice is quiet, “We’d understand … if you don’t want us.” You open and close your mouth several times, and she gives you a small smile, before standing up, and heading to the door. And as you watch her walk forward you know you’re about to lose her, and the Hawk. And your gut, which has never failed you tells you to act.
“I’m scared.” The words leave your lips and she turns to look at you. You bite your lip for a second before saying, “I’m not like you two. I’m terrible at sports or anything athletic. I can cook, and I’m good at my job. But I’m nothing special. Not like the two of you.”
Her smile grows, and she comes to stand in front of you, before sliding back onto the bed. She takes one of your hands in hers and says, “You’re ours. That makes you the most special and wonderful person in the world.”
You stared at the man like a deer in headlights. Was this Mr. Kim? “My name is Y/LN/FN.” You took a moment to bow. “I’m Jangmi’s nanny.”
“Hm,” the man seemed to relax a little, placing his hand on his hip. “I didn’t realize Jungkook had found someone.”
“That wasn’t you that I spoke to on the phone?”
He chuckled, “No. That was my assistant. He’s in charge of these kinds of things.” He turned to fill up a glass of water. “I don’t have time for these things. Incase you haven’t heard I tend to go through a lot of nannies.”
You felt a twinge of anger at his nonchalant tone. Being as that you were new, you pushed it aside to give him the benefit of the doubt. He might seem uncaring, but maybe that was only because it had been a long day. “Ah, I see. I thought your voice sounded different.”
Do you have any advice for someone who wants to get into the animation game but has no formal training in it?
I’m a lil confused because to me the answer is pretty simple , its the same as learning any other skill…you just look it up and practice
I mean it seems overly simplistic but thats pretty much the long and short of it..if you want to get into animation you have to learn it , whether its learning from yourself or going to school. You just look up animation and dive in .
Look up the 12 principles of animation , look up the animators survival kit and maybe invest in a copy. Grab some paper and a pencil and do a bouncing ball. There are lot sof tutorials out there on how to animate, and a lot of artists sharing their knowlodge. Just absorb and do , there is no shortcut to a skill.
If you’re talking about getting into the INDUSTRY without formal training..the answer is 100% the same . Your work will speak for itself , and if its good enough you’ll get a job without formal training.
animation isint gifted to anyone, theres really no advice that you cant apply to any other skillset or discipline. Carpentry, cooking , i could go on. Heck , me and my father have completely different jobs yet we go about our work in the same way….knowing where we fall short and learning how to overcome it.
if you want to animate , just animate. look up books , save ref , draw , do life drawing, watch cartoons , frame by frame animation , study , ask why and how , get involved in animation forums online , so many things. if you’re waiting for someone to tell you secrets you’re going to be waiting a longgg time haha.
A couple life goals: Become the kindest woman I can be, unconditionally. Learn to cook as well as my momma. Find a job that I love to wake up for. Learn to love without limits. Live in light and live in constant grace. Make Sunday breakfasts for the man I love. Climb many mountains. Drink lots of tea. Be happy.
Italy: Nutella, Football, and a Raging Job Crisis
(Alternatively: I Need Your Help)
This is mostly a recreational blog, but today I am posting something personal. Please, have the patience to read this, maybe you’ll find you can help me in some way - whether it’s through empathy, an idea, a reblog, or perhaps even a job opportunity.
Caleb chuckles as he makes his way to the kitchen. “Most of it is books, though. I knew you loved reading, Sam, but wow. I’m impressed.” He offers Samantha a smile as she gets up from the floor, walking to the other side of the stove.
“I had a lot of free time, I suppose…”
“That is true. Now, m’lady, what would you like to eat for dinner? I’ll cook you anything. I need to prepare my cooking skills for the job after all.”
Screenshots would be too much. (Hell, I type too much. Sorry).
There’s too many. But this guy…. I’m headdesking. Repeatedly. And losing faith in humanity, if what he’s seen is “typical”.
Firstly, after some chat, I get “What do you like most?”
What do I like most? In what? Food? People? Hobbies? To cook? Conventions? About my job? Which animal? Which of my pets? Online sites? Youtube Vidoes? Anime? WHAT??!
I get back “I want to get to know you”. Dude. Read my profile. There’s stuff to talk about there.
I called him out on the vague question and commented “I don’t know how to answer that. What do I like most? My husband? Sleep? My cats? Greek food? Anime? Conventions?… I like a lot of things ‘the most’“
Apparently having my husband be the top in my list of things I like “the most” was strange and weird. He was surprised I loved him “that much”. At this point I’m WTFing hardcore. According to him, I’m the first woman he’s ever met that would put their husband as one of the things they like the most. I told him he was cynical. I explained that I’m an introvert. I love my alone time. I’d rather be alone than with people 99.999% of the time. I LOVE my solitude. And I’d rather be with my husband than be alone. Apparently this alarmed him.
Then I tried to explain to him how introverts work. Or at least how I perceive how I work as an introvert (this may or may not be how others work…). That people tire me out. Different people tire me out at different rates. I have two friends that I LOVE to be around. They’re great fun and we have AWESOME game nights. There has never been a night where we didn’t have a blast. But damn are they ones that sap my mental energy FAST. Many weekends, I just don’t have the energy needed to be with them, no matter how much fun they are. But… I may have the energy to be around another friend of mine who is also fun, and hilarious, and all that. But doesn’t sap my energy as fast.
My husband, frequently, takes negative energy to be around. He literally costs me no energy, and in fact GIVES me energy to be around (most times. Some times he does cost, but it’s very rare and very small). I can do things and be around crowds that I couldn’t do alone, if he’s there. I could NEVER do a full 4 days of Dragon*Con, in cosplay, being the center of attention, talking to people, etc… without him. I’d get overwhelmed and you’d find me in a fetal position in a windowsill somewhere. (And this is all amusing because, compared to him, I’m the extroverted social butterfly. He’s waaaaaaay more introverted than I am!)
Apparently this revelation about my mental processes and why I love being around my husband was enough to make me “incredible” and “strange”. (This was after him sending me two messages of just “You’re………………” I’m what?) Also it’s made him “realize some facts and the real meaning of life”.
I just…. dude. I’m a geek introvert girl with a geek introvert husband. This should not be a life altering conversation. Especially not at 6am. Nothing should be life altering at 6am.
I start my new line cook job tomorrow and I’m way over thinking this first impression thing. It’s a lot less fancy than the last place I was at, I don’t know if everyone has their own set of knives and if I should bring mine? Would I be showing off if I did, would I look I prepared if I didn’t? And don’t even get me started on whether or not I should put my hair up
My name is unpronounceable to most people so everybody calls me Birdy, but if you have to know, its Klemen. I live in Europe (yes very exotic) in beautiful country called Slovenia. I am 179ish and have blue eyes, short light-brown hair and 70Kg(ish). I cook, cuddle, sleep, tell jokes and I can swim too! My past job experiences as boyfriend are poor as I have been with only one employer for 3years and then my position was given to someone else.
So in short, I think we, me and You have much to gain from each other and I am positive that you will not regret employing me, even if for a short period of time.
Looking forward to Your reply and cant wait for us to start working together!
Hi! If this is at all prying, obviously feel free to ignore me. But I was recently diagnosed w pots and wondered how much your mobility device(s) help and when you use them. I've only ever used wheelchairs in airports and hospitals. But things like shopping kind of kill me. Thnx for your time 🌷🥄🥄🥄
MY WHEELCHAIR IS AMAZING!
Like oh my gosh. I can work a full time job because of my wheelchair. I can cook and clean and get out of bed and leave the house on days when I’m flaring. My wheelchair gave me my life back. I can go out all day without having to worry about where I’m going to sit or if there will be chairs or how long I’ll be standing or walking or if I’ll suddenly get a flare and will i be able to get somewhere safe in time and will there be a long checkout line and will i be able to make it through the line without passing out etc.
I still do some things standing or walking, depending on the day but on good days I use my chair for anything longer than 20 minutes of standing. Bad days like 2 minutes maybe. Sometimes less than that?
I get that there’s a lot of misinformation out there about wheelchairs being limiting but before getting my wheelchair I was bedridden and miserable. I couldn’t go out with my friends i couldn’t work I couldn’t go to school I couldn’t cook for myself I struggled to make it to the bathroom from my bed without my vision blacking out. My wheelchair gave me a life I didn’t have before. It gave me freedom. I’m getting cheesy and emotional but it’s true.
This is the first fic I’ve ever published!!!! (Actually first anything I’ve ever put online that I actually sort of like) It’s fluffy and hurriedly written cause I wanted it done for today!!! I hope you like it!!! Because I love you lot!! Best fandom ever!! ❤️❤️❤️
Falling asleep on Simon and Penny’s couch was not the original plan, nor was waking up there the next morning to the sound of Simon softly swearing at the kettle. I groan, roll over, and fall ungracefully off the couch and onto the floor.
Simon sniggers from the kitchen, and I scowl in his general direction.
“What time is it?” I demand.
“Half past nine. Penny’s already left, if you want the shower.” I slump into the bathroom, stopping in Simons room to find a hoodie of mine he’d stolen (it’s far too big for him, the sleeves hang about two inches past the ends of his fingertips.) and a tee-shirt (his, but he’d never notice it was gone.) I feel much better after a hot shower, and dress in my jeans and Simons shirt, wandering out into the kitchen. (It smelt of scones, how predictable.)
“Coffee?” I ask, making my way over to the kettle for hot water. “Have you boiled the water yet, Chosen One?”
“Shut up.” Simon grumbles. “Is that my shirt?”
“You noticed?” I squint at him, surprised.
“I always notice when you steal my clothes. I just pretend not to because I-“ He breaks off, looking embarrassed.
“You what?” I smirk, taking a mug down from the shelf.
“Simon.” He interrupts.
“Snow. I know you were going to say something, you can’t just break off in the middle of a sentence like that.” I smirk down at him, enjoying the flush on his cheeks. His tail lashes (it does that when he’s embarrassed, or angry, or turned on, the latter of which I find most amusing.) I snatch it out of the air and pull it, gently, just enough to let him know I want him to come closer, to let me rest my chin on his head. He does (he always does) a bit reluctantly, but enough that I can get a hand under his ribcage and tickle him slightly, holding his shoulder with my other hand. Simon yelps and squirms out of my grasp, running away into the living room. I rush after him, face splitting into a smile. After a ridiculous chase full of shouting and laughter and launched couch cushions, I corner him, tackling him and knocking him into the couch.
“If you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked.” Simon says, brushing a piece of hair away from my face. I’m balanced over him, propped up on knees and elbows.
“Snow, I don’t cuddle.” Cuddle is an awful word. It’s tastes like cotton and feather beds on your tongue, and it doesn’t roll, it just sits there like a mouthful of fluff.
“Snuggle?” I shake my head.
“That’s not a word.” Simon shrugs.
“It should be.” I grin, and Simon stares up at me, face relaxing, lips hanging open. Crowley I’m so in love with this boy.
Baz’s eyes are like clouds today, cool and dark, hinting at rain. His hair is loose (I like his hair loose, all waves and silk around his face) and a piece of it tickles my forehead. I reach up, pulling him down on top of me and kissing him soundly, holding the back of his neck with one hand and tracing the lines of his shoulder blades with the other. He sighs into my mouth.
“You say you don’t cuddle.” I tease, lips against his jaw as he snuggles closer to me.
“I don’t.” He gasps, trying to hold himself up with one elbow. Finally, he give up, flipping us over so I’m resting on top of him, head in the crook of his neck. I never expected the smell of cedar and bergamot to become something so comforting. Baz runs his long, elegant fingers through my hair languidly.
“Do you have any plans today?” He murmurs.
“I was going to meet Penny for lunch.”
“Not anymore you’re not.” Baz orders, trailing his fingers down my ribcage.
“Simon.” Baz whines, and my heart melts into a puddle. He knows I can’t refuse him when he says my name like that. “Please?” He tips my chin up and kisses me hungrily. I suppose lunch isn’t really that big of deal.
Baz does let me get up eventually. I’m hungry, my stomach is rumbling. I’ve gained a lot of weight since leaving Watford, but I like to cook, so I’m no eating unhealthily at least. (If it were up to Baz we’d eat take-out or nothing at all. I never knew he hated cooking so much until now) (There’s a lot of things about him I didn’t know until now.) I don’t remember what it feels like to be skinny like I was in foster care. Baz says I’m better now, all soft and cuddly. (Actually, it was more along the lines of: “you’re eating so many scones, you’re starting to look like one.” But he kissed and cuddled me after, so I know he likes it.) I feel better, though, like I’ll never be hungry like that again. Baz is lying on the couch, lips almost pink, but the rest of him looks carved out of marble. (Or maybe moon rock? Something luminescent but pale.) I’m going to make some pancakes (who cares if it’s almost noon? Pancakes are for all hours of the day- and night.) but the mix is on the top shelf of the cupboard. I hate it when Baz cleans the house. Penny always leaves the top shelf practically empty (she can’t reach either) but Baz puts stuff up there just to bug me.
“Baz!” I yell.
“What is it?” He stretches languidly on the couch.
“I- come here.” I hate this. I hate admitting I need his help.
“Why?” He almost whines.
“Just- I need- come here!” Baz huffs, starts to stand, and falls back on the couch with a grunt.
“I don’t want to.”
“Please, Bazzy?” Baz scowls and mimes vomiting.
“Only if you promise never to call me ‘Bazzy’ ever again.” I stare at him with wide eyes. He slumps over, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “What do you need?”
“The pancake mix.” I mumble, and Baz bursts out laughing. “I’m short ok?” I snap angrily. Baz just continues to snicker, but he hands me the box anyways.
“You making pancakes for lunch?”
“Pancakes are for any time of day.” I insist. Baz watches me while I make them, following my every movement with cool grey eyes. I used to hate it when he did that- when we were at Watford, I mean. I used to hate a lot of things he did. I’m glad I don’t have to anymore; I like this better than fighting, too.
Snow makes pancakes, then eats them. And then he’s still hungry, so he makes more. I have three (They’re big and round and fluffy, delicious, but so filling) and then I watch him, laughing a little at the expression of disappointment that crosses his face when he realizes they’re all gone. I start to wash up, (that’s always my job, seeing as how I never cook.) and it’s Simon’s turn to watch me. I can feel his gaze, warm on my back as I wash the plates. Simon is a bit of a paradox, really. His name is Snow, but he looks like sunshine. I think about what Agatha told me she said to him when they broke up (we talk quite a bit now, mostly joking over how she broke up with him wanting to date me, but then I ended up dating him. Oh, irony.) about not wanting to be his future, his prize after he beat all the bosses. She wanted to be his right now. I don’t mind being his future, really (and I’m sure I am. He was talking about where we were going to live after we finish school and whether or not we could have a cat just the other day). I don’t mind being his future because I’ve already been his past, and (judging by the way he’s looking at me) I’m pretty sure I’m his right now, as well. He’s certainly my right now. He’s always been my right now. The centre of my universe, my paradoxical sun. Mine.
I can tell that Baz is thinking about something, hard. He sucks on his fangs when he thinks. I watch him doing it, and wonder if we’d be here, now, like this, if he didn’t have them. (If he weren’t a vampire, I mean.) If the Watford Tragedy never happened, and Basilton Grimm-Pitch was still human, would we be here? Would we be in love like this? He’d look different, for sure, I read somewhere that insufficient blood flow to the eyes can cause the irises to change or loose their colour. (He has a million weather forecasts in his eyes: rain, snow, gale winds, thunderstorms, cloudy with a chance of rain, hail, snow, sun.) He’d have red gold skin instead of the marble/moonlight thing. Would I still love him? I decide right away that I would. I’d love him no matter what skin he’s in.
Here’s the promised part 2 of the cute makoharu dj. Love their dads in this, the author’s portrayal of Haru’s dad totally fit my headcanon.
Usual disclaimer! I make no profit from this. Please do not use my pictures or
translations without permission. Support the author Harumitu whenever
possible. I just want to spread the cuteness of makoharu <3
“Tony I know I’m the maid, and cook technically this my my job but please quit leaving your new inventions lying around” you snap and hand over the grabby robot hand.
“Sorry (Y/N)” Tony mumbles. “Have a cookie as thanks. And hey do you need a raise? How about 100 dollars an hour” Tony suggests and you roll your eyes.
“Tony you know what I said.”
“I know you want to earn your raises but you do!” he argues. You roll your eyes.
“I literally have to fight Steve to clean and cook” you counter. “He insists he should and I have to remind him it’s my job.”
“But you’re sooo nice and you make us scientist eat and sleep and you teach Steve about history and technology, you pick up weapons left by assassins so the rest of us don’t get hurt, and you give great advice!” You chuckle a bit and blush. It’s nice to know you’re appreciated. But it’s a little weird that most of them come to you for advice because you’re way younger.
“Well I wouldn’t bat an eye if you got me a cake or something” you joke. Tony’s eyes widen and he dashes from the room. With a sigh you bend down and scoop up a knife off the couch.
“You’ve picked up my knife” Natasha observes appearing behind you. You don’t jump in shock you are used to the assassins sneaking up on you.
“Yes because you leave dangerous things lying around. Someone is going to get hurt” you lecture.
“And you punished, with a tickle attack!” Natasha exclaims and tackles you to the ground tickling up our sides. You laugh then scream when your bruises are aggravated. Natasha stops instantly. “Sorry sorry! Did I hurt you?”
“No no” you say and get up slowly. “No biggie just a bruise I got from hitting a door.” The lie slipped easily from your mouth almost to easily. Natasha saw right through it and yanked at your shirt. Her eyes widened at the large bruises and she looked up at you with an open mouth.
“Who did that?” her question was said in a dark voice.
“No one” you say way to quickly.
“Who? Tell me (Y/N)” she orders and you look to see she’s angry now. You gulp deeply and look down.
“Family” you whisper and clutch your hands into fists.
“I’m gonna kill them” she growls.
“No please don’t. Just leave it. Please” you beg. Natasha softens and pulls you into a hug.
“You’re never going back there again.”
Natasha made good on that promise and the Avengers got into a legal battle over your custody. They won thanks to Tonys top notch lawyers and the court on their side. Natasha signed the official adoption papers herself months later.
“Happy Birthday (Y/N)!” Natasha heels and bursts into your room holding cake. The Avengers stream in after her throwing confetti and holding gifts. You smile widely and sit up in your bed. Nat puts the cake in your bedside table climbs into bed next to you. She pulls out into her arms and against her chest and smiles into your hair.
“I’m so happy you’ve come to stay with us permanently and I’m even happier you are my daughter” she whispers and you grin. Some tears gather at both your eyes but you blink them away.