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glitchfiles · 10 months

Text

only 'til dawn. [ljn]

pairing ⋆ badboy!jeno x inexperienced/goodgirl!reader

wordcount ⋆ 2.7k+

warnings ⋆ SMUT MINORS DNI!!!, softdom!jeno, smoking, shotgunning, car sex, big dick jeno, corruption, praise, light degradation, oral (m receiving), cowgirl, spanking (once), light choking, creampie...

note ⋆ i had to leave this one in my drafts for some time first because i didn't want to upload two car sex fics in a row then i wanted to rewrite it then i couldn't be asked to do that fully... so yeah, enjoy :D

"fuck," jeno drawls out as his head lolls to the side, "you're shit at this." he chuckles at your feeble attempt to give him a blowjob.

you look up at him, he seems totally unphased by your attempts to get him off, even going as far as to fish a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket. the scowl that forms on your brow shows how much it dents your pride; he smirks down at you tauntingly.

"open your mouth a little more." he places a cigarette between his lips and lights the end. "you don't mind if i smoke, right?" you roll your eyes, he could have asked before. at least he had the courtesy to wind the window down.

there was no reason for you to debase yourself like this, the whole situation is beyond demeaning. you’re on your knees in the back of jeno’s car, struggling to please him and now he’s having a smoke mid-head?!

it felt as if your jaw was about to unhinge at any moment, you didn’t know it could stretch this far. the girls in the videos made it look so easy, compared to them, the way you were slobbering all over his girth was far from sexy. not to mention how you were clumsily pumping the rest of his length. not to toot your own horn, but you picked things up easily, this was a whole different ballpark to academic work.

"you're too big," you whine. your lack of experience definitely didn't have anything to do with the shoddy head you were giving. how he was still hard was a wonder, you’re sure he’s seconds away from going flaccid.

normally, he would have put an end to the whole thing. it's not like he wasn't one text away from a few girls that could suck the soul out of him. however, considering how unsavoury his reputation was, the fact that you, the university’s golden girl, and much-revered student union president, were so eager to please him behind closed doors inflated his ego more than anything else could.

he couldn’t help but find humour in how ardently you refused to acknowledge him in public at times like this; if you spotted him on campus you looked the other way. but the moment he shot you a text, you were swooning and giggling, begging to meet up. so, here you were, in the dead of night, at the back of an empty parking lot a couple of miles away from campus.

“you’re lucky you have a patient teacher, i’m going to turn you into an expert!” jeno directs you between drags of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the windows as he laughs at you being unable to get the hang of it. saying you feel frustrated would be an understatement.

"i don't want to do this anymore," you sit up, finally admitting defeat and letting his heavy cock flop down against his abdomen. if jeno were a better person, he would have stopped you a few minutes ago, but you were so eager to please him and he loved the adorable pout on your lips and how your brows furrowed whenever you were exasperated.

"then what do you want to do?" you can think of a few things, but they would be super embarrassing to say. so, you refused to answer. he sighs before slotting his cigarette between his lips, leaving his hands free to pull you onto his lap.

"wanna try?" you don't know what possesses you, but you nod.

how bad can it be?

he taps the burnt end off, letting the ashes fall out the window before setting the cigarette between your lips. it feels childish to admit, but the fact that you had shared an indirect kiss makes you smile. this doesn't last long, though; after a short pull, you end up choking.

"god, that's awful!" you squeak as he belly laughs, only stopping when you hit his chest. all he's done tonight is tease you.

"i thought so too when i first tried." he soothes you, so as to not incur any more of your light-handed wrath. "why don't we start with some baby steps?"

you're unsure what he means until his large, rough hand is placed gently under your jaw and his thumb brushes over your lower lip, "open up for me, angel."

he takes a long drag before tilting his head to the side and filling your mouth with a thick cloud of smoke. you're not sure what this is, but it feels intimate. it feels as if he’s breathing life into you. your whole body warms and tingles, your head spins, and a fire lights in your core.

once his lungs are empty, he seals it with a kiss. it's slow and passionate. his hand slides round to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. maybe it’s the nicotine running through your veins, you feel lightheaded. you let him slip his tongue past your lips to dance around your own.

the sweet flavour of your strawberry lip balm he was used to intermingled with the bitterness of his cigarette. he can't help but groan at the fact you taste a lot more like him now.

the cigarette he's momentarily forgotten in his hand gets flicked away to burn to a butt somewhere on the tarmac outside. his now free hand comes to rest on your hip. it guides your body forwards, bringing your clothed centre flush against his bare cock.

you mewl into his mouth, he swallows down the sound. he’s greedy for more and starts rocking against you. grinding out then gulping down your noises, they go straight down to his cock. it’s throbbing, you can feel how painfully hard he is underneath you. only when he’s met with an uncomfortable stickiness due to his precum seeping through his shirt does he put an end to his gluttony.

a begrudging whine fills the car as he pulls your lips away from him. the look in his eyes alone was almost enough to make you cream, it was different to the cocky, yet lewd, eye fucking that seemed to be his default. those dark eyes of his turned into endless pits of boundless desire.

warm hands glide under your sweater, tugging it over your head, off your body to let it land somewhere in the front of his car. he does the same with his own shirt, sitting back to let you admire the rippling muscles on his torso. you delicately placed a hand on his chest, sliding it down to his abdomen; it seems he doesn’t have to have his dick in your mouth to have you drooling over him.

“like what you see, baby?” the smug look on his face makes your stomach twist.

“shut up,” you smash your lips against his again before he can speak again.

jeno rushes to unclasp your bra, pushing the fabric out of his way so he can knead at your breasts; not before long, his mouth leaves you to pepper kisses down your neck then it encloses around one of your pert nipples.

“mmm, jeno!” you mewl as his tongue laps at the bud, causing your back to arch in search of more stimulation. a hand weaves itself into his inky, thick locks, pushing him to give attention to the other side. “jeno, more!”

“i love hearing you say my name,” he growls against your chest, “wanted to hear you say it all week, but you don’t even spare me a glance unless i have my cock out.”

you ignore the slight bitterness in his tone focusing on how he nips at your skin, leaving dark marks he hopes will last until he next sees you. marks that he hopes others will see and know you belong to someone; you’ll probably chastise him later over text but he doesn’t care, anything to keep him on your mind like you're always on his.

reluctantly, he detaches himself from your chest and sits back, eyeing the drying traces of saliva he left with a dazed smile.

“what next? tell me.” his hands delicately caress your hips, your cheeks begin to heat up and you avoid his eye contact. “don’t act all coy now, where’s the girl that begged me to drive her out here and fuck her dumb?”

you were still clinging onto the last dregs of your virtuous good girl persona - the last white spots on a canvas he had first found unsullied. your first sin had been naivety, too easily seduced by a good-looking face and the sweet nothings he whispered in your ears but he had been more than happy to lengthen the list.

you wondered if this was how you had always been - or was he corrupting you. he broke down every conception you had of yourself and no one outside of the car you both sat in would believe this was you - you barely did yourself. some would say he was ruining you, but he’d never make you do something you didn’t want to, this was all you.

“please…” you let your head fall onto the crook of his neck, voice barely above a whisper. “want you inside.”

“a smart girl like you can be more descriptive than that.” he strokes a finger down your back, leaving a trail of heat on your spine, in hopes of prompting lewder vocabulary. you take a moment to chew your bottom lip and swallow down the last bit of dignity you had.

“please, fuck me.” you weep against the shell of his ear, “fill my pussy up, i need you so bad, jeno.”

“sound so pretty when you tell me what you want.” his low-toned praise makes you shiver as he flips your skirt up and raises your hips. he pushes your panties to the side to position his cock at your dripping entrance. taking a second to tease your slit, making sure to brush over your swollen clit, only to hold you still when your hips jerk forward.

“look at me, angel.” you perk up for him, “so beautiful,” he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his gaze holds yours firmly as he brings you down on his bulbous tip, stretching you out slowly.

you struggle to keep your eyes from shutting. your mouth hangs open letting out hushed gasps as you sink down an inch at a time. he thinks you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever laid eyes on.

“keep going... yeah, just like that... so good...” his soft gaze, light touch and encouraging words make things easier. he can feel your walls begin to relax and hungrily accept his girth.

“‘s so fucking big,” you wail out, not even having taken him fully. you couldn’t quite yet without his help, though you’ll get there eventually - he’d make sure of that.

“i know, baby, but you take me so well. can you move for me?” you nod shyly, lifting yourself and dropping back down as far as you can with a long whine. up and down, you split yourself open over and over.

jeno’s hands press into your flesh, silently encouraging you to take more of him. you work your hips faster, earning a deep groan from him as his head falls back. instinctively, your mouth attaches itself to his neck, mimicking the way he had kissed and sucked at your own earlier.

“for such a sweet, innocent girl, you sure do ride like a slut.” he breathily laughs as his hand comes down on your ass with a sounding slap. “like the way my cock stretches this tight cunt out.” there’s no hiding the way your walls clench at the sharp sting. you try to find refuge from your embarrassment by hiding your face in his shoulder, but he quickly takes ahold of your throat, forcing you to sit up straight.

“don’t hide from me,” he tells you warningly and squeezes your neck lightly. once again your eyes lock, his stare as intense as ever. your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you rest your hands on his strong chest, adopting a faster pace.

he lets out moans which you naturally reciprocate, however, you embellish yours with his name; you feel his cock twitch at the sound of it. the look in his eyes turns wild as his fingers dig deeper into the meat of your ass, forming a nearly bruising grip; with the other hand, he’s careful not to cut off airflow but forms a hold that leaves you feeling dizzy.

“you know exactly what you do to me.” he chuckles, “you were fucking made for me, made for taking my cock, weren’t you? yeah, so perfect, angel.”

your legs begin to shake, his words and his cock are quickly pushing you towards the pinnacle. you try your very best to work through the overwhelming pleasure and the ache in your thighs, wanting to get him off since you failed at sucking his dick. but you can't seem to power through it, tears well in your eyes as everything becomes too overwhelming, it's far too much.

“need help, baby?” his soft spot for you wins, “did such a good job for me. i’ll take care of you, make you cum all over my cock. want that?”

“please, need to cum so bad.” his hand leaves your neck and places itself and your other asscheek. he plants his feet firmly and then rams up into you.

your brain goes blank in an instant.

he’s deep. so deep. too deep!

you cry out, nails digging into his broad, muscular shoulders to anchor yourself. the tears that had threatened to leave your eyes before stream down your face, staining your cheeks. your whole body quivers as his cock lays kisses on your cervix with each thrust.

“jeno, oh my god, right there!” you practically scream. his face screws at the feeling of your walls constricting, getting tighter by the second and making it harder to move; he powers through by jackhammering into you with more force.

it feels like you could break at any moment, he's bouncing you on his cock like you're a ragdoll and you're too weak to do anything but take and enjoy it. all it takes is a few more thrusts before you’re creaming all over him. your body seizes as your eyes roll back, and his name tumbles from your lips incessantly in pleasured sobs.

it’s hard to keep you in one place as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, but he handles your squirming body with ease using his strength. the most ungodly wet squelches fill the car as he races towards his own release, your sticky mess clings to both of your thighs.

“shit… pussy’s sucking me in so deep, gonna cum.” his chest rises and falls dramatically, he can barely breathe. his thrusts get choppier as he loses himself to the feral urge to paint your insides pearly white.

a heavy groan rips through him as his balls tighten, he nestles his cock nice and deep as he pours hot spurts of cum into you. he fills you with warmth; you feel complete for a moment. unfortunately, all good things must come to an end eventually.

you could almost start crying again when he pulls you off of him. his praise on how well you took his cum as it dribbles out of your cunt makes up for it, though. his tongue swipes across his lips as he watches it drip all over his cock, unbothered by the fact half of it is soiling his leather car seats too.

the sound of your wild breathing is all that fills the car for a moment until his lips find yours one last time. breathlessly kissing you, there is less vigour than before but just as much passion. your heart warms for a moment at the almost bashful smile on his face as he rests his forehead against yours and wipes the tears that still cling to your soft skin.

this feels right, perfect even, but it only takes a few words for him to fuck it all up.

“wanna come over to mine?” jeno regrets his words immediately, the expression on your face sour at the thought of someone spotting you walking into his dorm or one of his loud-mouthed roommates blabbering about you spending the night together.

give jeno a hand and he’ll end up taking the whole arm.

you pull away from him suddenly remembering who you are.

“don’t be ridiculous, you know i can’t even be caught dead with you.” you grimace at the mess between your legs as you reposition your panties; then, you search for the clothing he had strewn around the car.

you don’t even look at him when you demand him to. “just drop me off where you usually do.”

jeno grins even at your cold-hearted rejection. not just anyone could say they had a place between your legs; he’s sure he’ll have a place in your heart too soon enough…

★ thanks for reading! my inbox is open for feedback and requests! :3

#jeno smut #jeno hard hours #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct hard hours #📂 ..\ .◜◡◝

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ellecdc · 5 months

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Hii! I love your work SO MUCH but i'm not really sure if you're taking requests. Yet i'm here asking if you'd be comfortable to write a marauders or wolf star or any of the ships with reader who has epilepsy? and how they comfort reader after a seizure? i've always wondered what they'd do after my episodes. Feel free to delete this one if jts not your thing and have a great week ahead!!!

thanks for your request, sweetheart! do forgive me if there are any inaccuracies in my depiction of epilepsy as I'm not super well-versed in the subject other than what to do in a first-aid setting! google don't fail me now 😩

poly!maraudres x gn!reader who has epilepsy

CW: depiction of a seizure, anxiety, loss of consciousness, hurt/comfort, Sirius' cooking

You could hear voices murmuring around you - perhaps stationed somewhere above you - though you weren’t currently confident in your spatial awareness. You couldn’t make out what the voices were saying, but you could tell that they were nice; that the voices were lovely.

Or perhaps there wasn’t any voices at all, perhaps it was just a presence; perhaps it was just a lovely presence. Either way, you were sure you felt grateful for it.

“Easy dove, there you are.” You heard whispered as a breath was forcefully exhaled from your lungs. “There you are, you’re alright sweetheart. You can stop the timer, Pads.”

You hadn’t realised you had started crying until someone was shushing you and wiping tears away from your cheeks.

“Remus’ll be right back, angel; he just went to get you some water.” A voice explained from above you; James, it was James’ voice.

It was James’ voice and you were on the floor; how had you ended up on the floor?

You were having dinner; Sirius had made dinner for you all - roast chicken and potatoes. It was supposed to be roast chicken, potatoes, and broccolini, but he had burnt the broccolini.

It had been a lovely meal until it wasn’t; it had been a lovely meal until your mouth started to taste like metal.

“You feeling alright, sweets?” Sirius had asked when you abruptly stopped talking and set your fork down beside your plate.

You were upset - and perhaps a little scared, though this certainly wasn’t anything new - and you hadn’t been ready to admit what you thought was about to happen; not right then, not aloud.

You simply shook your head no.

“Is it Pads’ cooking? Because we can order take away.” James had offered in jest, only cluing in that something was wrong when Remus gently nudged James’ elbow with his knuckles.

“Seizure?” Remus asked simply.

You squeezed your eyes shut - in embarrassment or fear, you weren’t entirely sure - and nodded your head yes.

It was like a switch was flipped and they all fell into business mode.

“I’ll go move the coffee table.” Sirius proclaimed as he hurried from the table towards the living room and James was at your side to help you up.

“I’m sorry.” You gritted out miserably, earning you a sad sigh from James who was all but carrying you into the next room.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

And you could only trust that this was true as your consciousness began to fade just as your body was lowered onto the carpeted floor.

It had been a seizure, you had a seizure.

“Hey dovey.” You heard above you; a slight breeze prickling your skin alerting you to the fact that Remus had just returned.

A spike of worry surged through your core as you let out a few quick breaths. “Rem.” You sobbed.

The sound of something being set down on the coffee table, James shifting away from you to make room for Remus, and two strong hands cupping each side of your face.

“I’m right here, love. Can you open your eyes for me?” He murmured softly, rubbing at your cheekbones with his thumbs.

A few quick puffs of hair left your lips again, but you were distracted from your panic as you felt gentle fingers press into your calves.

“You’re alright, we’ve got you. Open your eyes, dovey.”

You tried to take in a deep breath as you relented; opening your eyes to have your vision swimming with the sad smile of Remus. “There you are; you’re alright.” He promised you.

“Anything sore?” Sirius asked uncharacteristically quietly for your arguably most boisterous boyfriend as he continued tracing soothing circles on your Achilles tendon.

“I don- I don’t think so.” You whispered through a hiccup.

You heard James whimper in sympathy as his hand appeared on Sirius’ shoulder.

“D’you think you can manage a shower or bath?” Remus asked then, encouraging your eyes back to his as he seemed to survey your face.

You considered the welcoming warmth of a bath or shower, but your stomach seemed to roll at the thought of doing anything other than laying down for the next foreseeable future.

Your face seemed to give away your decision as Remus sighed and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Cuddles it is then, hm?”

James was suddenly behind you pressing an upside down kiss to your forehead before he was encouraging your shoulders upwards into a seated position.

“Water,” Remus started as he placed the glass into your hand. “And paracetamol.”

You took the tablet (as a preemptive solution for a potential headache) and drank the glass of water dutifully earning you two more forehead kisses by Remus and James and a squeeze of your foot by Sirius before James was helping you up and ushering you to the bedroom.

Time seemed to move oddly as someone helped you change into a pair of pyjamas and ease you under the covers of the bed.

“Jamie and I will clean up, m’love; you cooked.” Remus murmured quietly to Sirius who seemed painfully uncomfortable as his eyes darted nervously between you and Remus.

“I think it should be you who stays, Rem.”

James sighed as he rested his hand on the juncture of Sirius’ neck and rubbed at the column of his throat with his thumb. “You know Y/N gets anxious after a seizure, Pads; just like Moony is always the first name you call out after a nightmare, yeah?”

“Siri.” You whimpered; your voice sounding particularly pathetic even to your own ears.

The three boys seemed surprised by your voice, clearly under the impression you’d fallen asleep during their quiet deliberation.

“Jamie and I will clean, Sirius. You’re in charge of snuggle duty.” Remus repeated. And while some apprehension was still obvious in his face, he seemed to concede to your grabby hand and Remus’ imploring gaze.

The two boys left the room as Sirius carefully slid in under the covers beside you.

Out of all of your boyfriends, Sirius was often left the most upset by your episodes; when he felt strong emotions (such as fear or worry), he tended to shut down.

“I ruined dinner.” You pouted as Sirius pulled you into his chest.

He let out a teasing scoff with only half the amount of humour he usually carried. “I ruined dinner by offering to cook, sweetness.”

“You guys didn’t even get to finish eating.” You carried on, tears painfully obvious in your voice which made even more tears well up in your eyes simply in embarrassment for crying.

“No, no baby; none of that now, yeah? I was full, Jamie was ready to order pizza, and I’m pretty sure Remus was feeding the chicken to the cat anyway.” He promised, stamping a kiss to your head and pulling you in closer to his side. “You never ruin anything, ever. You make everything better simply by being there, okay?”

“I don’t mean to scare you.” You whispered, feeling painfully vulnerable and simultaneously wholly safe in Sirius’ arms.

“You don’t scare me. You don’t scare me; I am scared because I feel useless. I hate not knowing what to do for you baby.” He whispered back.

You hummed as if in thought for a few as you felt your eyelids growing heavy. “This.”

“Hm?”

“Do this, just this; that’s what you can do for me.” You slurred as you felt the heavy hands of sleep dragging you further into the mattress beneath you.

You could feel Sirius chuckle - both in the form of the air he breathed into the crown of your head and the gentle rumble of his chest - as he pressed another lingering kiss into your hair. “Consider it done, my love.”

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bellaveux · 13 days

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Helloo!! can i ask you a fic where reader is obssesed with cooking/baking and is really good at it and nat loves to eat whatever reader gives to her, super fluff! I just love the way someone can mix some things together and make it taste good tho i'm not able to :P

taste of home | n. romanoff x fem!reader

genre: fluff

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: natasha loves your cooking, especially when it’s made just for her. after being away on a mission, she finds herself missing not just your food, but you in general—and everything that comes with being home.

content warnings: fluff, kissing, soft!natasha, reader is good at cooking but nat will probably start a fire lol

word count: 2.4k

Natasha was never really one for cooking. She was great at a lot of things—following orders, handling high-pressure situations, even outsmarting some of the most dangerous people in the world—but somehow, cooking always felt like it required a kind of patience she didn’t have. Following instructions? Sure. That part was easy. But there was something about the process, the time it took, the attention to detail that seemed to escape her. It wasn’t that she didn’t try, but everything she made always came out either too bland or a little burnt. Even the simplest meals seemed to mock her, reminding her that not everything could be solved with precision and efficiency. She found herself more often than not reaching for a jar of peanut butter, slathering it on some bread, and then calling it dinner. It was easier that way—quick, no mess, no stress.

But then there was you. You made cooking look like second nature, your hands moving with a kind of ease Natasha envied. Your meals were homemade, warm, and full of flavor, and every bite left Natasha wondering how something so simple could taste so perfect. It was one of the many things she loved about coming home—knowing that you would have something on the stove or in the oven, filling the apartment with a warmth that Natasha had never really known before.

She had long grown accustomed to the food she encountered on missions or during her travels—unremarkable meals in sterile hotels or bland, quickly prepared rations. The food rarely satisfied her; it was functional at best, a means to an end rather than something to be enjoyed. She could eat it, of course, but it never brought her the kind of comfort she craved. It was always your cooking that had spoiled her palate for anything else.

When Natasha found herself hungry and miles away from home, away from the large apartment you shared with her, she would think of you, and it was like a switch would flip. The image of you standing by the stove, a warm promise of something delicious, would fill her with an eager joy that made the waiting almost unbearable. In those moments, she would dream of coming home, of the way you would smile at her, greeting her with a gentle kiss, as you stirred a pot or slid a dish into the oven, the kitchen filling with the rich, inviting aromas of a meal made with love. It was a small, comforting certainty that awaited her after each mission.

Natasha found something inexplicably thrilling about watching you cook. It wasn’t just the delicious meal you made for her that excited her—it was the sight of you looking so beautiful, the way you moved effortlessly around the kitchen, lost in your own world. It was endearing. She’d often stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a small smile, just observing, feeling a flutter of warmth in her chest. Your delicate brow furrowed as you tasted and adjusted seasonings, your hands deftly working with ingredients. She always finds it hard to resist the urge to come up behind you, wrap her arms around your waist, litter kisses against your shoulders, listening to your laugh.

Steve glanced over at Natasha, noticing the faint, almost imperceptible smile playing at her lips. They were both sitting in the Quinjet, the low hum of the engines filling the quiet space as they cruised back home after a grueling two-week mission overseas. He hadn’t seen Natasha this relaxed in a while, and he certainly didn’t expect to catch her lost in thought, eyes soft, her usual sharp focus dulled into something more distant.

“What’s got you smiling?” Steve asked, his voice breaking the silence.

Natasha blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, her smile fading just slightly as she looked over at him. She shrugged, trying to play it off, but Steve knew her better than that.

“Nothing,” she said, but there was a lightness in her voice that didn’t match her usual tone after missions.

Steve raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. “Right. I’ve never seen you smile after two weeks of dealing with mercenaries and sleeping in freezing bunkers.”

Natasha couldn’t help but smile a little wider at that, shaking her head. She glanced down at her hands, fingers brushing the edge of the seat. Her mind was drifting to you, as always. Just the thought of walking into their apartment and seeing you there, warm and welcoming, was enough to make her feel like she could breathe again. She thought about you standing in the kitchen, an apron tied loosely around your waist, cooking something that would inevitably taste better than anything Natasha had eaten on the mission.

“I’m just... thinking about home,” Natasha finally said, her voice softer now, a warmth spreading in her chest at the thought of you waiting for her.

He grinned knowingly at Natasha’s response, his tone teasing as he leaned forward a little. “Yeah? Got someone waiting for you?”

A faint heat rose to her cheeks, though she masked it quickly, rolling her eyes at his question. “Something like that,” she muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward again.

Steve laughed softly. “You don’t have to hide it, you know. I think it’s nice. You deserve something—someone—good to come home to.” His voice was genuine, and when she looked up at him, she could see the sincerity in his eyes. It meant a lot coming from Steve.

“Yeah,” Natasha murmured, her mind drifting back to the image of you back in the apartment. There was something grounding about knowing she had someone to come home to, someone who made the hard world that surrounded her a little softer. Her smile deepened at the thought, her fingers tapping lightly on her knee. “I guess I’m pretty lucky.”

Steve glanced at Natasha, his smile lingering for a moment before his gaze shifted out the window. The horizon stretched before them, the compound slowly coming into view, nestled miles away. He watched it quietly for a moment, the soft hum of the Quinjet filling the air.

Natasha leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms above her head with a sigh. "I’m also pretty excited to eat something that’s not the stale food they pack us for these missions." She wrinkled her nose, thinking about the bland, vacuum-sealed meals they'd had for the past two weeks. "If I have to eat another energy bar, I might lose it."

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, nothing like field rations to make you appreciate real food." He took a sip from his water bottle, glancing at her with a teasing grin.

Natasha was never a picky eater. But throughout the two weeks away from you, she didn’t eat as much. The food they had packed was functional—protein bars, dehydrated meals, and tasteless energy snacks meant to keep them going. But Natasha could only force herself to eat the bare minimum, just enough to keep her energy up for the task at hand. Meals usually felt like a routine, not something to enjoy, and as the days dragged on, her appetite shrank even more. She ate just enough to keep herself going, but it never felt satisfying.

And she was grateful to have something, of course—yet each bite only reminded her of what she was missing. But out in the field, food was just fuel, but at home, when you cooked, it was more than that. It was comfort. It was love. And as much as Natasha needed sustenance, she craved that feeling more.

After what felt like the longest mission in months, Natasha finally stepped off the Quinjet and into the compound, exhaustion clinging to her bones. The familiar hum of the base was a strange kind of comfort, but all she could think about was getting back home. Back to you. After sending you a quick text, she moved quickly, her mind already half out the door as she peeled off her tactical suit and threw on something more casual. Her simple black leather, jeans—nothing special. Her body was sore, her muscles tight from the mission, but the thought of seeing you made everything easier to bear.

Natasha sped through the dimly lit streets of New York in her sleek black car, the city blurring past in streaks of neon and headlights. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than usual, excitement building in her chest. She could feel the familiar hum of the engine beneath her, but her mind was already miles ahead, picturing you waiting for her at home. The drive felt agonizingly slow, even though she was pushing the speed limits, navigating the familiar route with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times. Every red light felt like an eternity, every stop a moment too long. She wasn’t one to rush, usually careful and calculated, but tonight she wanted nothing more than to be home, to see you.

Finally, her building came into view, and Natasha parked quickly, barely able to contain the smile that tugged at her lips as she made her way inside.

You always missed her when she was away on longer missions. And you tried not to think about it too much, but every night, you’d catch yourself making enough food for two, even though you were the only one there to eat it. Tonight was no different. You made enough for two, like always, as if some part of you knew Natasha would be back soon. As you reached for a spice jar, the soft click of the front door unlocking echoed through the apartment. You paused, your heart skipping, your hand stilling over the stove.

The door creaked open, and you felt a familiar flutter in her chest. You heard the soft jingle of car keys and the faint click of the front door closing from the kitchen. The footsteps that followed were gentle, and you could almost picture Natasha’s careful movements—the way she set down her bag and slipped off her shoes.

You continued to stir the pasta, your smile remained soft. After a beat, you felt Natasha’s strong arms wrap around your waist, sending a shiver of delight down your spine. Your breath hitched slightly, a contented sigh escaping your mouth as you leaned back into Natasha’s body.

“Hi,” you let out a soft laugh as Natasha’s lips brushed softly against your shoulders, trailing delicate kisses along the curve of your neck. Each touch was light, almost hesitant, but full of love. You laughed softly, the gentle tickling sensation making your shoulders shake as you tried to stifle her giggles.

Natasha mumbled quietly back against your skin, the vibrations from her voice causing a shiver of delight. The sound was barely audible, but it was filled with tenderness. Natasha’s kisses continued, mingling with the soft laughter that filled the kitchen.

“Hi, baby,” she repeated, her chin now resting atop your shoulder, looking down at the stove where your hand mixed the pasta gently. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you said, turning the stove off, the sizzle of the pasta fading as you gently moved to turn in Natasha’s hands.

Her arms kept you close to her body, and before you could fully turn around, Natasha’s lips found yours. She sighed against them, feeling you smile softly against hers. Your hands found their way to her face as her hands squeezed your hips firmly.

You pulled away from the kiss, your hands moving up to cradle Natasha’s face gently. You studied her for a moment, your brow furrowing as you took in every little detail—the slight hollowness in her cheeks, the way her body felt just a tad bit thinner against yours. Your thumb brushed softly along Natasha’s jawline, your voice soft with concern.

“How was the mission?” You asked, using your middle finger to brush a couple strands away from her face to tuck it behind her ear.

“Long,” she sighed, leaning in closer to your touch.

“You look a little skinnier,” you murmured, your eyes searching Natasha’s. “Have you been eating?”

Natasha gave a small nod, but it wasn’t convincing. You knew her too well. Knew how missions drained her, how she barely ate more than she had to, always brushing it off like it didn’t matter.

“You should eat more, Natasha,” you said quietly, your hands still holding her face as if you could protect her from the world, if only for a moment.

“I’ll eat when you cook for me,” Natasha’s eyes softened as she stared down at your lips, her voice quiet, almost a whisper. “I like it when you cook for me.”

You exhaled softly, your lips curving into a gentle smile as Natasha’s fingers lightly traced the edges of your waist. You could see the sincerity in her gaze, the way her tiredness seemed to melt away just being here, just being with you. It made your own heart swell.

"Let’s eat, then,” you replied, your smile widening as you brushed a thumb tenderly over her cheek.

Natasha pulled you closer, if it was even possible; her voice was a low murmur against your neck, her lips grazing the soft skin there in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “What if… I had some dessert first before dinner?”

You let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes even as a coy smile tugged at your lips. “Very funny, Romanoff,” you replied, trying to sound stern but failing miserably when your fingers tightened in Natasha’s shirt. You gently nudged her back with a soft, playful push. “Go get the plates.”

Natasha chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. She quick kiss to your lips again, lingering just long enough to leave you wanting more before finally pulling away. Her hands trailed down your sides as she stepped back, a grin still playing on her face.

"Fine," she said, her voice light as she moved toward the cabinets.

She set the plates on the table, her movements slower than usual, as though savoring the moment. When she finally sat down and took her first bite, the rich, creamy taste of your truffle pasta hit her immediately. It was delicious—better than anything she could’ve imagined after two weeks of bland mission rations. She let out a contented sigh, her shoulders relaxing, the tension of the last few days melting away. You sat across from her, watching with that soft, knowing smile, and all Natasha could think was how much she loved this—loved you. She loved the way you took care of her without even trying, loved the way you made coming home feel like a blessing. For the first time in weeks, Natasha felt truly at peace, and as she took another bite, she couldn’t help but think that there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

navigation! (natasha’s masterlist is still in progress lol)

#bellaveux writes!#natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #fluff #avengers x reader

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 2 months

Text

Tide

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Frankie Morales is capable of almost anything... except not cumming in his jeans when he thinks about you, the pretty clerk at the grocery store he always buys his giant jugs of laundry detergent at. Warnings: Smut thoughts, Frankie's POV and internal monologue, premature ejaculation, so much cum talk, addiction recovery, laundry detergent, this is so ridiculous but I also tried to make it super sweet. Words: 1,200

A/N: I'd probably classify this as a crack fic... but with heart. This is SOOOOO indulgent and ridiculous. I don't know what @luxurychristmaspudding unlocked in me but this is what's released. I know this is my *4th* story in a week, but I couldn't help myself. Also, shout out to the JM Discord and all of the tenants who join in the luxuriousness of this level of depravity.

Masterlist

🚁👖🤍Frankie🤍👖🚁

It keeps happening to Frankie over and over and over again. Recovery has been a challenge, abstaining from all of his previous vices means he’s no longer numbing his mind… and body.

Nobody should ever cum during a prescription commercial and yet… he does. The swimsuit hugged the woman’s curves a little too close, plus she had the same color hair as you. His mind couldn’t help floating to thinking about you in a swimsuit.

Aye dios mio, get a hold of yourself man.

He’s too embarrassed to bring it up to his doctor. The notion of ever mentioning it to the Delta Force boys terrifies him, although he knows deep down they’d lend a sympathetic ear. They’ve killed, fought wars, and climbed out of the lowest points of their lives together… but the thought of letting his secret out? Awful. He shudders at the thought of telling his fellow Narcotics Anonymous attendees: “Hi, my name is Frankie, I’m an addict and I can’t stop cumming in my pants.”

He tries to think of the worst things, mental images that should scar even the scariest of humans, thoughts about death, rotting produce, weird looking insects, and yet, it still happens.

___

“Hi, how’d you find everything today?”

He blinks towards your tag though he’s already memorized your name, it repeats through his mind whenever he climaxes… he wonders to himself how your sweet voice would sound repeating his name.

Uh oh, quick, think of a bee sting, everyone’s going to die, burnt pizza.

He shakes his head, the thoughts of you wrapped around him flying out of his head with each subtle knock.

“Sir, are you okay?”

Fuuuuuuck, you really had to call me sir, didn’t you?

“Y-yeah, sorry, long day. My name’s Frankie by the way.”

Focus, don’t look at how her hand wraps around the shampoo bottle, soldier.

“Hi Frankie, nice to finally have a name to the face.”

Of course you say his name in the sweetest way. He presses his fingers into the flesh of his palm as hard as he can withstand, he prays you don’t see the way his nostrils flare.

Be strong.

He’s been captivated ever since he first saw you working in the mom and pop market across the street from his apartment. You’re always friendly and smiling, he swears he feels your eyes on him every time he leaves yet he’s too scared to look back and confirm for himself. He wishes he knew how to small talk and somehow step over the threshold of this case of shyness he has with you.

Why bother? I’ll just end up disappointing you, never leaving you fulfilled.

He’s so ashamed.

“That’s a big bottle of detergent, you must do a lot of laundry. You have kids?”

“I do… a four year old, but she lives with her mom,” he answers, lifting the giant jug into his cart, his cock twitches when he feels your eyes on his biceps.

Stay cool, you can do this, you’ve literally overcome worse… and cummed over less.

He wonders if you notice just how much laundry soap he buys… he’s confident that you have no clue you're the only reason why his washing machine is constantly working overtime.

“Oh, I love that age,” you mindlessly muse scanning a cereal box. “Is she as cute as her dad?”

His spine turns to jelly… he feels the phantom getting closer.

Trash compactors, mom and dad’s divorce, elephant seals.

“Everyone says she has my eyes.”

“Then she must be,” you wink.

Not a wink, not a wink, not a goddamn wiiiiink.

He quickly pulls his head down, sticking his card in the chip reader, resisting the urge to think of his now aching cock pushing into you.

STOP. STOP. STOP THINKING FRANKIE.

Focusing on the pin pad breaks his spiral. Relief spreads through his tense body knowing this run in will be over soon, he can go home in peace, his pants surviving this moment.

Your fingers brush against his hand when you hand him the receipt, his favorite part of buying groceries. He’ll stand in your checkout lane no matter the size of the line for the split second of skin to skin contact. It’s all he can afford to let himself have, any more would surely stain his jeans.

___

“Hey Frankie!”

He turns at your voice, his breath hitching when you walk over to him while removing your name tag.

“Want to go next door and grab a drink?”

“I’d love to… but I, uh,” he lifts his hat nervously tussling his hair, “I’m in recovery.”

“Oh,” your voice and face falter, “I’m sorry, um–”

Don’t let this moment pass, you can do it.

“I know a really good ice cream place, a few blocks down, I can meet you there?”

Ice cream means licking. Frankie, you're an idiot.

“Oh, um, that sounds amazing but I don’t drive.”

“I can take you… if you’d like.”

“Yeah?” your smile grows wider. “That sounds amazing.”

“I just need to drop these off, and then I’ll meet you outside in twenty?”

“Awesome!” You squeeze his hand wrapped around the cart handle. “I’ll see you soon.”

Your touch scorches his skin, he blinks watching your ass sway while walking through the doors to the backroom.

1-2-3, a gush of hot liquid releases against his jeans, his knuckles turn white as they clutch the cart handle.

Jesus Christ.

Frankie picks up his bags, holding them close to his crotch and leaves the grocery store. He better hurry. Thank god he just bought more detergent.

___

In hindsight, he’s thankful for his little grocery store indiscretion. He’s carefree and relaxed as he falls even harder for you over chocolate sundaes. You ask for extra rainbow sprinkles and laugh at all of his jokes.

This must be what it’s like to live normally.

___

“That’s me,” you point to a small bungalow unbuckling your seatbelt. “Thanks for the ice cream Frankie."

“This was really fun,” he turns towards you, shocked at how close you’re leaning towards him.

Kiss her. No, wait, don’t kiss her. Yeah, definitely don’t kiss her.

“It was,” you lick your lips and lean even closer.

He can smell you now, you smell divine. Like ice cream and floral perfume.

You place a soft kiss against his lips and pull away.

Frankie’s body tenses, a pathetic whimper escapes his mouth, he spurts against the cotton of his briefs. Doe eyes rounded with embarrassment stare at you.

“Sorry,” whispers out of his downturned lips.

“Oh,” your face fails at hiding a smile, “Frankie, it’s okay. Really.”

His head knocks against the headrest, face frozen in a grimace, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Frankie,” your hand clasps his chin forcing him to look at you. “Honestly, it’s okay. It’s actually… kinda hot.”

Right then and there he knows he’ll never shop at another grocery store again.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #crack fic #francisco morales #frankie morales smut #francisco catfish morales

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cup-o-stars · 2 months

Note

How to draw like you no borax

Good question!

I'd warn against following my process (at least if you want to learn), but I'll be honest and show you, lol. (Heads up: this is just how I do FAN art. When having fun, I generally care less about the fundamentals.)

1. I slap down super rough sketches, jotting lines/expressions like bullet points of my idea. Pretty much stick figures with just enough detail to remember who's who later. Not shown here, I also move, resize, and add details to express the intended composition if I'm planning something larger. You may notice a lot of curved lines / haphazard circles.

2. I refine the sketch by drawing it with more intention and build structure with slightly blockier shapes. If I'm really struggling with a pose, this is also where I'll find references or look at myself for bits and pieces to fill in the gaps. (When practicing, I would highly recommend using a reference from the start so all your limbs are an appropriate length and you don't need to say things like "that's passable" right before posting. If you're a perfectionist you'll leave that thought with the rough sketch.)

3. I'll decide around here whether or not to leave the sketch as is or commit to lineart (not likely). I guess I'd say I "shape the lines" here by going over some to add thickness/weight, and by adding basic sort-of-shading to break things up a little. Then I'll just fill in space if the page looks empty. (Usually this is where I incorporate the borax, but I hear baking soda works nicely if you're worried.)

4. Onto coloring. I don't feel confident enough to pretend I know what I'm doing here, lol. I just choose my base colors, imagine the general direction of the light source, then add minor gradients to the light and dark layers so they don't look flat. Then I just add some BS highlights and outline them. I've only recently found the motivation to properly practice coloring and just go with the flow tbh.

You may notice that Nami's forearm is too long, her hand looks like a pancake and Chopper has no joints! My kind sibling explained to me once that my anatomy is poor, but cohesive enough that nothing stands out too bad, lol. That's why it is important to use references!! And if you're me, practice all parts of anatomy at the same time with full bodies so that even when you're at a loss, your hands aren't that much better than your feet.

All in all, to draw like me, just have a very hedonistic approach to art, ha. Draw what you want, avoid getting burnt out on any single piece (sometimes that happens when you try to perfect drawings one at a time), and follow my personal motto:

Make fun, not masterpieces.

Idk how helpful this was, but there you have it!

#drawing #one piece #fanart #nico robin #luffy #ask

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beiasluv · 9 months

Text

christmas spirit’s | f1 grid

a/n: super rushed but enjoy 💀💀

ynfannss

liked by username, username and 76,727 others

ynfannss NOT CHARLES BEGGING FOR YN TO TAKE THAT PICTURE AS HIS SECRET SANTA PRESENT

view all 3,764 comments

username mans knew that she loves f1 dilfs and went with it

username I NEED to see Jenson reaction

username NO because Sebastian IS her mentor 😩

username I FEEL SO BAD FOR YN 😭

username RIGHT

username NOT WHEN SHE GAVE THE BEST GIFT AS WELL

username 😭😭

username BUT QUEEN WASNT FAZE AT ALL

username NO SHE LOVED THAT GIFT

username I wouldn’t be mad if I was gifted the three branches of government

carlossainz55

liked by yourinsta, landonorris and 524,626 others

carlossainz55 ¡feliz navidad! from the sainz’s 🎄

view all 101,261 comments

username carlos is in spain (without the s)

username NO MORE CHRISTMAS PARTY SAINZ😩😭

username NO MORE SMOOTH OPERATORR

username another one ticked off the list 😭😭😭

username ikr???

username YALL ACTIN LIKE THEY DONT HAVE PRIVATE JETS 👹

username FR THEY JUST HOP ON AND OFF LIKE ITS A FUCKING BUS

alex_albon

liked by landonorris, georgerussell63 and 361,155 others

alex_albon wishing everyone a very happy christmas from the albons!

view all 89,621 comments

username sad day to be an albon fan

username girl imagine being a logan stan

username you’re either american or american. either way, he is definitely back in florida

username ngl I’ll let him spend any day with lily. a win is a win

username get a fucking life yall it’s just a party

username ITS NOT “JUST A PARTY”

username it’s LIFE

charles_leclerc

liked by arthur_leclerc, yourinsta and 861,718 others

charles_leclerc family dinner from the leclerc ❤️🎄

view all 275,255 comments

username okay mr. host candidate, pack it up rn

username WHERE IS THE PARTY MISTA

username so no one is going to mention that yn goes on to like every single post 😭😭

username and lando.

username they plotting sumthinh

username tell me that bitch didn’t lie to us 👹

username that’s mean. do it again

yourinsta

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 861,517 others

yourinsta new player contract?? 🤭

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carlossainz55 ankles still working?

landonorris at least I’m better than you

yourinsta she was a fairy 🤭🤭

username TIKTOK QUEENNN

username YN IS IN THE UK 🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🦅🦅🦅

username GOD BLESS FHE QUEEN (Yn)

username LANDO???? EXCUSE ME WHO GAVE YOU THE PERMISSION

username so bf??? 🤭😭😭😭

username WHAT IS HAPPENING

username football girlie here but gah daium yn looks so fine 😩

username the crossover we never (kinda) expected 👹

username so…the party?

yourinsta

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 385,288 others

yourinsta happy holidays and making cookies!

view all 86,626 comments

landonorris where’s mine

yourinsta burnt 👹

username SAME RESIDENCE CONFIRMED

username switching sides

username maybe she’s not planning something after all 😔✊

yourinsta SAY SIKE RN 🤭

username WHATHDG

landonorris 4h

yourinsta 2h

landonorris 23m

f1gossips

liked by username, username and 97,277 others

f1gossips photos of the F1 Christmas party parties last night were leaked. lando norris comfirmed as the party host and special guests of carlos sainz, nico hulkenburg, max verstappen, pierre gasly, kika gomes, yn ln, and charles leclerc himself. monte carlo confirmed.

- admin

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username please tell me yn took that picture of Charles

username queen getting back for his present

username no she was a savage last night 😭

username Queen was roasting no one with hesitation

username AS SHE SHOULD

ngl guys, I actually finished the mark webber one first and then the poll shifted 👹👹👹👹

if you guys enjoyed it, any interaction would be appreciated. if not, then why the fuck not? 😘

today’s a great day to get out and take care of yourself 🫶

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writingwithfolklore · 1 year

Text

Punctuation Rules

Punctuation is like the very last thing I actively think about when writing something (what's the point of fixing the punctuation of a sentence you'll end up taking out or editing anyway?) but it is still an important step!

Having proper punctuation increases your credibility and the overall quality of your work. Also, it’s doubly important in professional work, emails, and resumes. With that, let’s get into it!

Commas

We use them all the time. We get them wrong all the time. There are six rules for where you can use commas:

Use to separate items in a list or series:

The book was long, tedious, and painful.

The comma after tedious is called the Oxford’s comma. Feel free to debate if you need it in the reblogs, but you won’t get in trouble professionally if you use it or leave it out (in most cases.) It always comes before ‘and’ in a list to prevent confusion of the items:

I ran into my mother, my best friend and a scientist. (1 person?)

Is very different from

I ran into my mother, my best friend, and a scientist. (3 people)

2. Use to separate independent clauses, with a coordinating conjunction.

An independent clause is just a sentence that makes sense on its own.

A coordinating conjunction is: and, but, or so.

Miley had a ton of work to do, so she set her alarm early.

3. Use after an introductory statement.

Introductory statements begin with many different words, but typically: Before, after, when, while, as soon as, etc.

Before her first class, Stacy looked up her prof on Rate Your Teacher.

Main point about this, “Before her first class” is not an independent clause, it needs a second part.

4. Use to surround info in a sentence

This info is not essential to the sense-making of the sentence, but it should be relevant.

Parents, no matter how skilled, cannot function at 100% all the time.

5. Addresses and Dates

6. And with direct quotes

Important for essay writing.

Casey said, “I hate this house!”

Colons:

Introduce a list after a complete sentence:

I have three favourite foods: spaghetti, chowder, and garlic bread.

2. Use after ‘the following’ or ‘as follows’

Please provide the following information: your date of birth, full name, and address.

3. Don't use with sentence fragments

A sentence fragment is an unfinished sentence (that doesn’t make sense on its own).

My favourite foods are: spaghetti, chowder, and garlic bread.

This is wrong because, “My favourite foods are.” Isn’t an independent clause.

4. Introduce an explanation

My parents ask one thing of me: that I try my hardest.

5. Introduce a quotation

Mom always quoted the bible: “The truth will set you free.”

6. And times (12:00)

Semi-Colon:

Not super common, but makes you look good if you can use it properly.

Separate two related independent clauses

I never drink Starbucks; it tastes burnt.

2. Similar, but with conjunctions: however, moreover, therefore, nevertheless, etc.

I don’t like Starbucks; however, it does the job.

Agatha didn’t witness anything; nevertheless, she was called in to court.

3. Use to avoid misreading in a series

The invited guests are the club leader; the treasurer; the new member, Jason Tanner; and Wanda Johnson, the investor.

Semicolons clarify the separation between the four people. Had it been, “The club leader, the treasurer, The new member, Jason Tanner…” it would seem that the new member and Jason Tanner are two different people.

Apostrophes – Possessive

‘s shows possession of a singular noun

The girl’s parents were quite rich.

2. S’ shows possession of a plural noun

The students’ books were all over the place. (there are multiple students who have books)

3. ‘s to singular words ending in s, and nouns that are plural

My boss’s office My children’s toys

Apostrophes – Contractions

Use to combine two words (they are, he is, there is, etc.)

It is -> It’s a beautiful park They are -> They’re really good friends You are -> you’re good at this and so on.

#writing #creative writing #writers #screenwriting #writing community #writing inspiration #books #film #filmmaking #writing advice #punctuation #punctuation rules #rules of punctuation

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maxwellatoms · 5 months

Note

Hello Mr. Atoms, I'm an animation student in college and fan of your work. I got this assignment in which I need to ask questions to a professional in the area. Could you pretty please answer them? It'd mean a lot to me.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

Okey dokey.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

Not really, in that there seems to be no career left.

The animation industry swelled its numbers greatly before 2020. Almost immediately after that, corporate greed synergized with a pandemic to reduce animated programs and the number of people working on them to almost zero. It takes almost a year from beginning to end to make a single episode of an animated show (by the modern standard). There was nothing being made in 2020 and four years later, we''re not in a much better spot. It's going to be a long drought for (especially) Kid's TV Animation.

Recently, many of my former co-workers have hit the financial wall and can't continue, moving away after (sometimes) 20 years in the industry. I begin to wonder if I'm very far behind.

A "bounce back" a year from now would need to start today. There are still some animated shows being made now, but those are almost universally "library" properties. That means it's an existing I.P. (Intellectual Properties like Garfield/Mario/Batman/Star Wars) so as an artist you're immediately in that box. Depending on the property and the studio, it can be an unpleasantly tight box. I grew used to holding and maintaining the vision for a show, but it's less fun when it's not my vision. It's even less fun when you can't inspire someone to follow your vision because they've been so ruthlessly abused.

I'm pretty sick of how big media corporations treat their employees. If I inherit one more burnt out crew due to mismanagement, I'm gonna lose it.

Over a decade ago I fought hard to get board artists story credit for the episodes they were actually writing, and felt like I'd won a big victory for everyone. The second my back was turned, it all reverted.

Mostly... what is the point now? My career is/was developing ideas, crafting those ideas into a workable show, then managing teams of thirty to seventy people to produce a couple of dozen episodes per year. Studios actively do not want new ideas right now, and are actively searching for ways to eliminate what artists from the process. I'm not sure what my job would be under this new system, but it feels like they decided to hang onto the anxiety-inducing deadlines while removing anything remotely pleasurable from the experience.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

It's the only way to get anything done, currently.

The current state of the industry is not sustainable. I (along with a lot of other animators I know) are trying to decide what's next, and pretty much everyone agrees that "you just have to make something".

It is (in that very specific way) a great time to be a young animator. The system was never going to treat you well anyway. If you can get something like a Hazbin Hotel happening without studio help, you can currently write your own ticket. I'm super proud of Vivsie, because that's a LOT of stuff to handle. I never had to handle my own marketing or drum up money to make Billy & Mandy happen.

There are opportunities there, but it's definitely "Hard Mode". The best idea is probably to team up with a few other people you like and like to work with.

Hopes? I hope that the young animators take over and make something new on top of the bones of the old industry, rather than just allowing that industry to patch its rotting hide with their collected works.

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

I suspect true AI might just peace-out like ScarJo in "Her", but we're not there yet. What we have now isn't Artificial Intelligence at all (though I do believe it may be the underpinnings of the Artificial Suconscious of what may one day become an actual Artificial Intelligence.)

The LLMs and "Generative AI" are (so far) a big dumb waste. They consume tons of energy and aren't great for doing anything creative. If you've sat down with Chat GPT for a creative writing session, you've probably run into the "out of the box" limitations which prevent it from talking about sex or violence-- which happen to be a major component of most stories.

Still, the technology has come incredibly far in an incredibly short amount of time. I imagine we're going to hit the point where we're being hazed by artificially generated political ads way before Generative AI can produce a consistent and usable character turnaround, so that'll be the test. Whatever the legal fallout is from this stuff over the next few years will set the tone.

Still, studios have a vested interest in pleasing their shareholders. Generative AI potentially has the capability of not only replacing swaths of money-eating artists, but handing that control directly to the billionaire studio heads. Mark my words: We're headed straight for billionaire-generated content.

I don't think the public at large will want to watch Elon Musk's fever dreams, so there's that. So law and general distaste might stave it off for a while, but I think there's just too much impetus for studios to continue to try to please their investors. "AI Art" is here to stay.

Eventually that will lead to millions and millions of bots generating millions and millions of songs and paintings and movies all day every day. Most of it will be utter trash. Right now (so I'm told) viewers are already burnt out, and will generally only click on what they already know. On Netflix, where there are twenty things you've never heard of and one you have, you're more likely to pick the thing that gives you comfort and gives you a guarantee you're not wasting your time. With exponentially more A.I. trash, how would you even begin to filter it out?

You'd need absolute control of an already existing distribution system. We currently have a few of those, and all of the media companies are desperately trying to merge with them to insure their own survival.

To me, the post-Gen-AI landscape looks a lot like old-school Cable, but with endless I.P. and fewer masters.

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

The real question is, maybe, "What am I even doing?" These days I try to do a lot of gardening. I'm trying to learn new art skills, because suddenly twenty five years of experience managing, drawing, and writing isn't worth much. I recently worked on Jellystone until Zaslav lost 2.5 billion in the wash and had to find justification for his new yacht. The show before that? Also culled midway through to save money. The days of multi-year gigs seem to be over, and if I'm going to scrape by doing freelance, maybe I can do that somewhere else.

I'll always make art. I can't seem to help it. Ideas aren't my problem-- it's executing those ideas without the help of a structured pre-existing system. I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to pull that off. My strengths are great, but were always supported by friends I worked with.

Can I start an indie cartoon with all of these cool friends? Sure, maybe. Most of those people have gone on to have other careers of their own and got used to being paid. Now nobody is getting paid and no one can pay anyone else. My immediate circle are all now middle-aged people with families and no jobs. Convincing them to give up a large chunk of their day for an idea that's not guaranteed to pay off is going to take some real effort.

I technically have fifteen years until I can claim my "retirement", assuming that still exists by then. That's a pretty big hole to fill with... I don't know what.

The difficult "What comes next" discussions at home are really just starting.

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

There are a lot of cool animation people out there. I already mentioned I was proud of Vivsie. I was also reminded recently just how great C.H. Greenblatt and Mr. Warburton are. I know they're my friends. They're both just really upstanding, creative people who take good care of their crews.

The treatment of animation industry professionals by the studio system has been one of the most demoralizing and heartbreaking parts of this demoralizing and heartbreaking time.

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So there ya go. If you want to look for someone whose attitude is a little more upbeat, I won't blame you a bit.

Wherever you are, I wish you the best of luck. For me, just climb up there and crush it. I would very much like to add you to #5 someday.

#maxwell atoms #animation industry #grim reaper

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