your art style is really cool. i really like the one you did of hannah from the movie Goat. do you have a timelapse video of how you make your art.
Yeah, sure. I also post most of my speedpaintings on TikTok [ cotbaunS ], where you can find my other stuff, too, though most of it looks like gibberish and the antics of a madman from a madhouse, haha
very much at a stage in my life where if you tell me some person has a callout doc i'm going to assume an organized harassment campaign *before* i'll assume any of the evidence in it is real
absolutely enamored with robin and nancy's first meeting btw. nancy is so hostile with the fucking "im sorry, who are you??" and robin, who was captured and drugged and probably still coming down from the worst high of her entire life chirps (CHIRPS) "uh, im robin! i work with steve!" and proceeds to look at nancy exactly like this
It was hot. There was no air conditioning at The Squawk like there was at the mall or even the pitiful excuse of network of fans at Family Video. The old concrete building hosting a network of radio devices seemed intent on choking itself, and everything in it, out with heat.
Sweat dripped down her face, her arms. Robin could feel her hair sticking to her scalp, all her scruffy locs tamed by the force that is humidity.
She was wet. The building was wet. It was damp, and musty, the stale air doing nothing to provide any relief.
And well, they could open the door. Crack a open window or two. Let a cross breeze try and make its way through the building. But…
Robin whimpered.
That would defeat the purpose of this.
"You're doing so good." Nancy's voice is rough, thick. She's sweaty, though not nearly as much as Robin. Her head is tilted back, her eyes half lidded, and Robin closes her own just to avoid being seen.
It doesn't mean anything.
Really.
Robin couldn't say exactly why this started happening. The military moved quick. As soon as those fissures opened up there were trucks and then construction and then the immediate danger was gone, and they were left floundering.
Tracking the military, dodging curfew, finding places to meet. No school like the younger kids, no job like the adults. The Squawk became their saving grace when Steve and Robin managed to secure a gig. It wasn't strange for them to be there, Steve Johnathan, Nancy and Robin, outside of crawls and the morning show.
Robin rocked. She was wearing basketball shorts. They were Steve's. Even though he complained he never stopped her from wearing his clothes whenever she stayed the night. She regrets it now. They're short, and a little too baggy, and if she moves just right they slip to the side and—.
Her hips stutter.
The thing is, Steve never got over Nancy, and Johnathan never got over his jealousy of Steve, and Nancy keeps pretending she doesn't notice. And so while they were united in the desire to defeat Vecna, that desire wasn't enough for them to spend everyday together and not get on each others nerves.
The boys weren't at the Squawk right now. They were out getting ice. Both of them, because it was, according to Nancy, girl time. What it really meant was that they were both pissing her off and had to leave until they could act like normal human beings around her.
Robin didn't mind. She liked hanging out with Nancy. Even before the one on one hangouts devolved into…
"Don't hide." Nancy tugged at a lock of Robin's hair, and Robin let herself be pulled away from Nancy's neck where she tucked her head.
Nancy called it letting off steam. Her house was now host to two families, Holly had moved into her room, Johnathan was constantly underfoot, they were no closer to finding Vecna, and she never had a moment to herself. Robin supposed it made sense. Nancy seemed to be a girl of action, and right now there was no action. She needed someway to release that pent up energy.
It's just… Robin wasn't quite sure how this benefited Nancy.
Because now Nancy's hands were around Robin's hips, and her leg was pressed up into Robin's cunt, and she held on as Robin rocked. Nancy was wearing a skirt, and it was hiked up so that Robin could straddle Nancy's bare leg. Nancy's bare leg that was now soaked with sweat? slick? both?
"You're desperate aren't you?" Nancy said. "Couldn't even bother to take off your shorts."
It wasn't a fair thing to say since Nancy was the one who insisted she keep her shorts on. Robin tried to reply, but the only sound she could make was a strangled whine.
She was close.
A part of Robin wondered if Nancy talked to Johnathan like that, or had talked to Steve like that. Was she mean to them or just her? Did they like it or was she weird? She tried not to think of the fact that Johnathan and Nancy were technically still dating, even though, according to Nancy, they never really did anything anymore. She tried not to think about how it was against the 'bro code', according to Steve, to date your best friends ex. She tried not to think about how they weren't even dating. How it didn't mean anything. How it was just two girls letting off steam.
Nancy's hand slid up her shirt, and Robin tensed, stomach tightening as Nancy's hand skated lightly over her stomach stopped at the edge of her bra.
"Nancy please." Her shorts were definitely ruined. Her cunt clenched around nothing. How could she be this wet. Robin moved easily, too easily, across Nancy's leg. She hovered right on the edge, the friction she needed denied. "Touch me."
"Well since you asked nicely."
Robin let out a moan as Nancy pushed her bra up and palmed her breast. Nancy alternated between squeezing her chest and rolling her nipples between her fingers. Where did she learn to do this.
"Are you going to cum?" Nancy asked. "The boys will be back soon. You don't want them to see you like this do you?"
Robin shook her head. It wasn't enough.
"Use your words."
"I can't." She ground down harder, moving her hips faster. "It's not enough. I need you to— to— ahhh"
Nancy moved her hand down, pushing her thumb ever so slightly into the seam of Robin's shorts. It was enough.
Robin pressed into Nancy's hand, hips jerking, before slumping bonelessly in her arms. "That was great," Nancy said. A hint of awe tinged her voice. "You did good." She stroked Robin's head as she spoke, fingers running through her hair. Robin nuzzled into soaking in the moment before—.
A car door slammed and Nancy shot up. Robin flailed as she was dumped mercilessly form Nancy's lap. "I think there are some clothes in the basement." Nancy smirked, looking down at Robin. "Your shorts are kind of ruined."
Robin closed her eyes. She could hear Nancy talking to the boys at the door. Stalling. She gingerly picked herself off the floor, shorts sticking to her awkwardly. She sighed.
Short oneshot inspired by this post wherein the caption is "a lil dry humping never hurt a friendship"
Takes place during season 4. Robin and Nancy let off a little steam at The Squawk.
Also Kinkuary Day 19: infedility because technically Johnathan and Nancy are still dating.
from @mcufan1066
Ao3 link
~~~
"Fuck."
It was hot. There was no air conditioning at The Squawk like there was at the mall or even the pitiful excuse of network of fans at Family Video. The old concrete building hosting a network of radio devices seemed intent on choking itself, and everything in it, out with heat.
Sweat dripped down her face, her arms. Robin could feel her hair sticking to her scalp, all her scruffy locs tamed by the force that is humidity.
She was wet. The building was wet. It was damp, and musty, the stale air doing nothing to provide any relief.
And well, they could open the door. Crack a open window or two. Let a cross breeze try and make its way through the building. But…
Robin whimpered.
That would defeat the purpose of this.
"You're doing so good." Nancy's voice is rough, thick. She's sweaty, though not nearly as much as Robin. Her head is tilted back, her eyes half lidded, and Robin closes her own just to avoid being seen.
It doesn't mean anything.
Really.
Robin couldn't say exactly why this started happening. The military moved quick. As soon as those fissures opened up there were trucks and then construction and then the immediate danger was gone, and they were left floundering.
Tracking the military, dodging curfew, finding places to meet. No school like the younger kids, no job like the adults. The Squawk became their saving grace when Steve and Robin managed to secure a gig. It wasn't strange for them to be there, Steve Johnathan, Nancy and Robin, outside of crawls and the morning show.
Robin rocked. She was wearing basketball shorts. They were Steve's. Even though he complained he never stopped her from wearing his clothes whenever she stayed the night. She regrets it now. They're short, and a little too baggy, and if she moves just right they slip to the side and—.
Her hips stutter.
The thing is, Steve never got over Nancy, and Johnathan never got over his jealousy of Steve, and Nancy keeps pretending she doesn't notice. And so while they were united in the desire to defeat Vecna, that desire wasn't enough for them to spend everyday together and not get on each others nerves.
The boys weren't at the Squawk right now. They were out getting ice. Both of them, because it was, according to Nancy, girl time. What it really meant was that they were both pissing her off and had to leave until they could act like normal human beings around her.
Robin didn't mind. She liked hanging out with Nancy. Even before the one on one hangouts devolved into…
"Don't hide." Nancy tugged at a lock of Robin's hair, and Robin let herself be pulled away from Nancy's neck where she tucked her head.
Nancy called it letting off steam. Her house was now host to two families, Holly had moved into her room, Johnathan was constantly underfoot, they were no closer to finding Vecna, and she never had a moment to herself. Robin supposed it made sense. Nancy seemed to be a girl of action, and right now there was no action. She needed someway to release that pent up energy.
It's just… Robin wasn't quite sure how this benefited Nancy.
Because now Nancy's hands were around Robin's hips, and her leg was pressed up into Robin's cunt, and she held on as Robin rocked. Nancy was wearing a skirt, and it was hiked up so that Robin could straddle Nancy's bare leg. Nancy's bare leg that was now soaked with sweat? slick? both?
"You're desperate aren't you?" Nancy said. "Couldn't even bother to take off your shorts."
It wasn't a fair thing to say since Nancy was the one who insisted she keep her shorts on. Robin tried to reply, but the only sound she could make was a strangled whine.
She was close.
A part of Robin wondered if Nancy talked to Johnathan like that, or had talked to Steve like that. Was she mean to them or just her? Did they like it or was she weird? She tried not to think of the fact that Johnathan and Nancy were technically still dating, even though, according to Nancy, they never really did anything anymore. She tried not to think about how it was against the 'bro code', according to Steve, to date your best friends ex. She tried not to think about how they weren't even dating. How it didn't mean anything. How it was just two girls letting off steam.
Nancy's hand slid up her shirt, and Robin tensed, stomach tightening as Nancy's hand skated lightly over her stomach stopped at the edge of her bra.
"Nancy please." Her shorts were definitely ruined. Her cunt clenched around nothing. How could she be this wet. Robin moved easily, too easily, across Nancy's leg. She hovered right on the edge, the friction she needed denied. "Touch me."
"Well since you asked nicely."
Robin let out a moan as Nancy pushed her bra up and palmed her breast. Nancy alternated between squeezing her chest and rolling her nipples between her fingers. Where did she learn to do this.
"Are you going to cum?" Nancy asked. "The boys will be back soon. You don't want them to see you like this do you?"
Robin shook her head. It wasn't enough.
"Use your words."
"I can't." She ground down harder, moving her hips faster. "It's not enough. I need you to— to— ahhh."
Nancy moved her hand down, pushing her thumb ever so slightly into the seam of Robin's shorts. It was enough.
Robin pressed into Nancy's hand, hips jerking, before slumping bonelessly in her arms. "That was great," Nancy said. A hint of awe tinged her voice. "You did so good." She stroked Robin's head as she spoke, fingers running through her hair. Robin nuzzled into soaking in the moment before—.
A car door slammed and Nancy shot up. Robin flailed as she was dumped mercilessly form Nancy's lap. "I think there are some clothes in the basement." Nancy smirked, looking down at Robin. "Your shorts are kind of ruined."
Robin closed her eyes. She could hear Nancy talking to the boys at the door. Stalling. She gingerly picked herself off the floor, shorts sticking to her awkwardly. She sighed.
Agatha All Along. Another drabble Ripperdoc Rio. I guess bodymod artist also fits, though it doesn't sound as cool.
Rio muses as she prepares to do a scarification piece on Agatha
~~~
Rio does not have any scars. She can't get scars. Well, that's not quite true. She can get scars, all humans can, but due to an unfortunate quirk in the genetic lottery it is dangerous for her to do so. It's a shame, really, because scars are so beautiful.
That's the thing, with having a disorder that makes it too easy to get sick and too hard to stop bleeding. There are things, experiences, that become no longer on the cards. She's learned to make do.
It used to be a saying in the community. Never trust a tattooist without tattoos. Never trust a piercer without piercings. It still is, in some respects, but it's easier now, to make it in the industry as someone without any ink or metal.
Her work speaks for itself. As do her clients. Word of mouth travels far. Especially when you start practicing in the less traditional arts. The ones that skirt what is considered safe. Sane. Legal.
Agatha has scars. Agatha has a lot of scars. She accumulates them easily. A rambunctious childhood, a slightly less rambunctious adulthood. Some of them are old and faded. Others, newer, made with precision. They tell a story, her scars.
Rio doesn't know the story behind all of Agatha's scars. She was there for some, like the fight with the racist knitter in the subway that resulted in a needle to the elbow. She was told of others, like the one that came from balancing on a chair to reach a book that was beyond her station. Others still, were never spoken of, but she could guess.
There are certain things that leave unique shapes, the small pockmarked burns of a cigarette, the pale thin stripes of a switch.
Things that leave a mental mark just as much as a physical one.
That's what makes it special, Rio supposes, that she's been allowed to make her own mark.
It's not the proper way to do this. Certainly not the safest. She would never do with any of her other clients, but Agatha is different.
The shop is closed, curtains drawn. The only light comes from the lamp in her corner of the shop. Agatha is laid out on the table, shirt off, chest bare. Rio hovers over her, legs straddling her waist. Definitely not something she'd do with her other clients.
Agatha watches her, as she makes sure she has everything. Rio has her gloves, and disinfectant. She has all her tools within reach, each one laid neatly on the tray. All the while Rio can feel Agatha's eyes on her.
It's disconcerting, in a way, to be the sole focus of the other woman's attention. Agatha doesn't move, doesn't speak. Her breaths are slow and steady, and her eyes, blue, piercing, track her every movement.
Rio feels like prey.
She's sketched out the design on Agatha's skin already. A rune, placed right over the top of her breast. Agatha had brought it to her one day, drawn out jerkily in pen. She knew then, it was time. But still…
Rio gazed down at Agatha. Her fingers brushed lightly over the woman's chest, her nipples pebbling, goosebumps rising. Her skin wasn't unmarked. Each scar tells a story.
Rio reached forward and grabbed her scalpel. Number 10, a common, blade, but one she favored. She brought the blade to Agatha's skin. It rested there, metal slightly pushing in. Agatha didn't blink, didn't flinch. She stared straight at Rio, blue eyes unmoving.
Detective au except it's Agatha getting turned into a dog hybrid for whatever the fuck reason and everyone getting to see how absolutely whipped age is for Vidal
Like she's got ears and tail and sharp canines. She's pissed off at the whole thing. Other officers keep making dog jokes and she growls at them more than once
So here she is, just projecting the air of big scary canine. And then Special Agent Rio Vidal walks into the building.
Everybody is excited because they know Agatha absolutely hates Rio.
Except instead of a fight her ears perk up and her tail starts wagging. And Agatha's face is red as a tomato because she can't stop it
And maybe Agatha bites a suspect that gets a little too smart with Rio. And Rio gets upset at Agatha and they both walk into the precinct except Agatha's ears are drooping and her tail is between her legs.
dededos
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