#im gonna ignore the rats on my chest that im only seconds away from ripping off with a paper clip

[vroomvroomwee]

Goddamn all of you lovely Good Omens artists are fucking incredible do you know that? And I don't just mean the skill and talent and range you all possess in drawing cute adorable comics all the way to renaissance masterpieces because I won't be able to shut up if I start talking about that.

No, I mean who you are as PEOPLE.

You are all absolutely wonderful. Every single piece relays the refreshing and comforting views and opinions you have as well as your kindness. Drawing Aziraphale chubby and big but as well as soft and sexy and desirable and magnificently ETHEREAL. It has made me love my belly and thighs. It's made me view them as adorable and cute. The utter ADORATION you have for Crowley's nose. I went from despising mine (which is slightly crooked) to flaunting it and being PROUD of it. Because, guess what? ITS FUCKING CUTE.

As a result of all the love you all show towards these characters and the traits that society would call "unattractive", the ones that people should be ASHAMED about and try to hide, I have genuinely started to love my body. Traits that would cause me to feel inferior and pathetic are now causing me to feel giddy and affectionate towards myself. Went from "ew" and "uhhgg" to "tehe" and "eee" every time I look in the mirror.

If there's anyone that feels that their art isn't being appreciated, therefore that means they aren't good enough, I want to remind you that there's probably a person out there somewhere, too shy to like and reblog, who accidentally stumbled upon it and now has a smile on their face. There could also be another individual at a different corner of the planet who comes back to your art when they feel down and need some comfort and happiness, their confidence receiving a momentanious boost, and to be reminded how lovable and worthy they are.

And what's even more amazing is how we don't have this revelation: "My body/face is ugly, but I love it anyway." NO!! It has the "My body is a body. I'm human. There's no such thing as an ugly body. " And that's so so so so important.

People always talk about how Good Omens completely warps your view of gender and sexuality and makes you realise how abstract they both are. But it also has that effect for bodies and facial features.

Changing your opinion and feelings on something doesn't usually happen in the blink of an eye like they depict it in the movies where the characters have this memorable dramatic revelation. In real life, it happens gradually. Because we're human, and we need time to process things. So the Good Omens artists doing this to so so so many of us is incredible because they pop up these gorgeous pieces of art constantly. Over and over and over and over, and it's such a breath of fresh air and freedom from being suffocated by the media and society everywhere you go. And I say this with 100% seriousness, Good Omens has some of the most wonderful people in its fandom.

[sodasback]

Let Go - Part 3

Reposting from my deleted acct.

Warnings: physical violence

That night you got a text from JJ’s number.

JJ: Hey Y/N, it’s Pope. I stole JJ’s phone and he’s trying to kill me over it right now. 

JJ: Anyway, he hasn’t stopped talking about you. Just thought you should know.

JJ: Don’t let him hide you from us. 

JJ: Kay gotta go, can’t breathe, bye

You laughed out loud at Pope’s texts and swooned over the fact that JJ was talking about you to his friends and that the Pogues, or Pope at least, seemed like he wanted to hangout with you.Then more texts came through. 

JJ: Sry pope doesnt kno wut hes talking about. ignore him. 

JJ: i cant let ur head get any bigger knowing tht im simping for u over here. I’ll have to put u in ur place again.😉

Y/N: Is that place on my knees in front of you?

JJ: ugh stop. ur gonna make me hard and wer on the boat

Y/N: Hey you started it

JJ: Yeah well I’ll finish it too when i see u tmrw pretty girl

Y/N: You better 😈

JJ: ur killin me smalls 🍆

You went to sleep that night blissfully happy. But you woke up full of dread knowing you had to breakup with Rafe. 

You texted him telling him that you needed to see him and talk. He seemed to know something was up, but he told you to meet him at your favorite park in Figure 8. 

Before you left to meet him, you texted JJ that you were meeting Rafe. And then you shared your location with him. You had a feeling JJ would end up being close by, but you frowned when he didn’t text back and thought maybe you should call him. No, it’ll be fine. Rafe doesn’t need to know what happened. I’ll just end it and it’ll be fine.

 You pulled up to the park and saw Rafe....

You had worn a hoodie, because it was the only thing you had that would really cover all the hickeys, that you also tried, pretty unsuccessfully, to cover with make-up.

“Hey beautiful” he greeted you softly from his spot seated at a bench and kissed your cheek as you sat down next to him. You were ashamed of yourself that you still felt a warm fuzzy feeling despite the fact that Rafe didn’t you treat you right and JJ already showed you more affection in such a short time.

“Hey doll” you greeted back out of habit.

You and Rafe were both quiet for a minute, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You and Rafe enjoyed the scenery and the nearby fountain in silence.

“It’s over huh?” He asked solemnly, still looking off in the distance at first and then to you.

“Yeah” You admitted with a sigh before continuing, “I think we’re just growing apart and maybe we’re not the best for one another.” You said slowly.

You hated yourself for saying it that way, for not calling Rafe out on everything. And you hated yourself for not being 100% truthful that you cheated. But a part of you still loved him and a bigger part of you was just trying to survive this without a screaming match or something worse.

Rafe nodded and offered a small smile.

“I’ll always love you though. You know that right?” He said, squeezing your hand gently.

You melted a little. Rafe really could be the boyfriend you needed ...sometimes.

“Me too” is all you said with a gentle smile.

Rafe sighed and stood up. He opened his arms out for a hug. You stepped in and wrapped your arms around his waist. 

That wasn’t so bad you thought as you breathed in his cologne one last time and savored being in his arms for a second.

You felt Rafe shift a little and playing with the hood of your sweatshirt.

“Why’re you wearing a hoodie?” He asked, with genuine intrigue in his voice. You felt your heart stop and you tried to stop yourself from sweating more than you already were. You swallowed hard and then cleared your throat, trying to act casual.

“Just was a little chilly earlier.” You stated simply, pulling away from Rafe. Who looked at you skeptically. 

“It’s July. It’s hot as fuck out. There’s no way you’re cold.” He said tugging at the hem of the jacket. You pushed his hands away. 

“Rafe stop. I wanna keep it on. I’m cold.” You said, trying to squirm away from him. He firmly grabbed hold of both your wrists and pulled you towards him a little, motivating you to look up at his now deeply disbelieving expression. The furrow in his brow, made you nervous and you bit the inside of your cheek. You could see the gears turning in his head as he registered your very guilty and scared demeanor you couldn’t hide.

“Why’re you wearing a jacket, Y/N?” He asked in a sternly dangerous tone that gave you goosebumps. Your breathing started getting heavy. 

“Rafe” You warned nervously. 

His jaw became clenched. And he forcefully ripped the hemline of your pullover upward and wrenched your arm out one of the sleeves. 

“Rafe! Stop!” You yelled at him as you tried to squirm away but he manhandled you and harshly tugged your hoodie the rest of the way off and threw it on the ground, leaving you in your sports bra, completely exposing the hickeys on your neck and chest. You quickly tried to cover yourself and reach down for your hoodie at the same time, but Rafe grabbed your forearms again, hard enough to leave bruises. 

Fuck. Where’s JJ when you need him?

Rafe looked you up and down before tightening his grip on your arms. “You little fucking whore.” He swore through gritted teeth. 

“Rafe you’re hurting me.” You said with a whiny tone you couldn’t hold back.

“You’re just cold, huh? I can’t believe you fucked another guy, you cheating slut!” He spat as he throttled you.

“Rafe calm down.” You said, trying not to cry. God, JJ, please come. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’re sorry?! You’re sorry?!” Rafe laughed darkly, before moving a hand to your throat, but not fully squeezing yet. “You cheat on me and all you can say is you’re sorry?!” 

“Rafe! Please!” You begged, tears now welling up in your eyes. 

“Who’d you let fuck you, Y/N? Hmm? Who marked you up knowing you were mine?”

“Rafe, please let go!” You cried. 

“Tell me who it was, Y/N!” He growled at you in a way that made your blood run cold and he started to squeeze your throat. You clawed at his hand and his arm as he cut off your airway. 

“Cameron!” JJ yelled as he ran over to you. Rafe was caught off guard and let go of your throat. You collapsed to the ground gasping for air. JJ immediately was at your side. 

“Y/N! Are you okay? Go to your car, now.” JJ told you. But you stayed in your position, mostly out of necessity, given the fact you couldn’t breathe. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” Rafe said. “You cheated on me with this fucking piece of shit pogue?!” He asked you, as JJ stood up and faced him. 

“Leave. Now.” JJ told Rafe.

Rafe snorted, “Or what?” He challenged, stepping towards JJ.

Right then, police sirens went off. All 3 of you turned to see a Kildare County Sheriff SUV and Shoupe step out.

“Is there a problem gentleman?” Shoupe asked them walking towards the 3 of you.

Rafe and JJ were glaring at each other. You took the opportunity to put your hoodie back on.

Finally, Rafe said, “No problem here officer.” As he didn’t take his eyes off JJ, daring him to rat him out.

“Looks like you’re on the wrong side of town, Mr. Maybank. Everything okay Miss Y/L/N?” Shoupe asked.

“Yeah, JJ came to take me home. Rafe was just leaving.” You said.

By now, Shoupe had taken notice of the red mark on your neck and the fact you were on the ground with a defensive JJ in between you and Rafe. It was very obvious what had been going on.

“Mr. Cameron, I think you should head on home now.” Shoupe said. And you internally rolled your eyes. Of course, Shoupe would let Rafe just leave.

Rafe just glared at JJ.

“Rafe.” Shoupe said more firmly.

“I’ll see you soon Y/N, Maybank.” He promised in a dangerous tone before turning toward his car.

JJ watched him leave with his fists clenched. Once Rafe was driving away, JJ took a deep breath and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you need to see a doctor?” Shoupe asked.

“No, I’m fine.” You said from JJ’s arms.

“Alright. You 2 take care, now.” Shoupe said as both an apology and a warning getting back in his car.

Now, it was just you and JJ. He was still holding you tight. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, glancing down at you. You nodded but kept your head tight to his chest squeezing his waist and cried a little. 

You only let yourself cry for a second and then sucked it up and when you sniffled, JJ held you back a little so he could look at you. He checked your expression and waited for you to nod as he slowly and gently pulled the collar of your hoodie down a little so he could see your neck.

A pained grimace appeared on JJ’s face and anyone looking at him could have probably seen his heart break in front of them as he looked at your injury.

You might have JUST admitted feelings for each other yesterday, but you couldn’t explain it. You and JJ felt right. It was young summer love, a whirlwind romance where you both fell hard and fast. And the fact that he was partly at fault for the huge hematoma forming on your neck, the fact Rafe quite literally could have killed you made JJ feel like crumbling.

“I’m gonna kill him.” JJ said to himself more than you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Y/N.” 

“JJ. This is not your fault. Okay? Rafe is the one who had his hand around my neck not you.” You said with your hands holding his face. 

“But I-”

“No! Stop! I’m telling you this isn’t your fault. And I’m fine. See? I’m in one piece.”

JJ almost had tears spilling out. 

“I promise.” You reassured him. He closed his eyes and nodded. 

“So you taking me out on a date or what, Maybank?” You asked, desperately just wanting to see JJ’s face free of anguish again. He smiled a little and sniffled. 

“Yeah, I’m taking you out. Give me your keys.” He said smiling.

“Uh uh” You tsked, “You think I’m gonna let you drive my Porsche? I’ve seen you take a turn in John B’s van on 2 wheels. I’m not letting you behind the wheel of my baby.” 

“Fine” JJ pouted. But then he snatched the keys from your hand and mimicked the shocked look on your face and taunted you. 

“JJ!” You shouted reaching for the keys, but he held them out of reach from you. 

“Ooh sucks to be short, huh Y/N?” He said as he stumbled to your car still holding you back from the keys. 

“JJ.” You said seriously. “Give. Me. My. Keys.” He just looked at you waiting for you to threaten something as he stood next to the driver’s door. “Give me my keys or I’m not sucking your dick for a month.” You threatened. 

“Pfft” JJ scoffed, “Like you could go a month without begging for my cock down your throat? Bet” He said, nodding his chin up at you. You contemplated it and you knew he was probably right. You furrowed your brow. 

“I swear to god, if you crash my car, I will kill you Maybank.” You said as you walked to the passenger’s. 

“Whoo!” JJ cheered before awkwardly crawling into your front seat. “Jesus, your seat’s so close to the wheel!” He complained throwing the seat back and fixing all the mirrors. 

“JJ! You are fucking up all my stuff!” You yelled at him and punched him in the arm. He ignored you and revved the engine. 

“Ooofff” JJ groaned, “this is making me so horny. Can we have sex later?” 

You glared at him. 

“You’re eating me out for at least an hour for stealing my car.” You folded your arms and looked out the front windshield. JJ leaned over and pecked your cheek. 

“My pleasure baby.” he said, throwing your car in drive and screeching the tires. 

“JJ!”

Taglist: @moniamaybank @hernameisnoell @moonrisebeach @abbyj1822 @october-cameron @railmerafe

[thewritingstar]

Blue with Envy

Pairing: Bubbles x Boomer (Boomubbles) 

Fandom: PPG

So this is my first fic for the blues, which is really weird to think about. I haven’t written a solo fic for them, at least I don't think I have so I hope y'all like it. im terrible at fluff but here we are :) 

Tag list: @shellielyzabeth @unvalley @over-under-through1 @lisathefan @creativecilla (lmk if you wanna be on the tag list) 

--

“Alright, look I don't want any problems, just put the money in the bag.” Boomer demanded and he smirked when he saw the cash drawer open and the gas station attendant held the money with shaky hands. 

He never thought that he would still be doing crime at seventeen but yet here he was, listening to Bricks demands and going out in the cold early in the morning just for chump change. 

Boomer heard the sliding doors open behind him and whipped his head towards the door as he kept his glowing fist at the man. He saw nothing but the door starting to close and he furrowed his brows. 

“When will you learn?” He let out a yell as he saw Bubbles sitting in front of him on the counter. She looked positively board and he watched as the man with the money dropped the cash bag and ran to the employees only door. 

“Fucking hell, what do you want?” He sneered. 

She rolled her eyes and placed her foot on his chest before kicking him with a strong force and causing him to fall into the postcard rack behind him. Of course the blow wasn’t even bad but he was annoyed she got that out of him. He jumped to his feet quickly, ready to start a fight and have this place go up in a blue light. 

He tried to come closer but she held her hand up signaling for him to stop. 

“You know you’re better than that.” Bubbles mumbled. “You’ve always been better.” Her voice just above a whisper.

His voice got caught in his throat as she put the money back into the register, causally ignoring him. He should have flown and kept the cash so that his brothers wouldn’t rip him a new one but he was frozen in place.

She looked tired. But in a way that she was hanging on by a single thread. There was this undeniable sadness that had washed away any part of joy and laughter. The girl he saw hours ago was not the same now, at least he thought. Her baby blue eyes were laced with heavy bags underneath them and even her face lost that angelic glow she constantly had. 

“Yeah right.” He spat. He didn’t have to listen to her lies, even if she did sound genuine. 

Bubbles looked around the store and noticed that they were the only ones around before picking up the fallen postcard rack. “You know Boomer, I’ve always been slightly envious of you.” She said.

His eyes widened as she kept placing the cards back.

“Envious of what?” He asked and his palm tightened to a fist.

She let out a small laugh. “How carefree you get to be. Super villains, well I don’t think you are one at least, they get to live peacefully. The only torment they receive is constantly being overshadowed and beaten by sunshine’s and rainbows.”

He scoffed and scraped is foot on the group before snatching a lollipop and shoving it into his mouth. He glared at her when she finally stood up and leaned against the counter. “Not always beaten by little girls.” 

“Of course not.” She giggled and this time he could see the soft glow in her eyes. “Then again, we aren’t little anymore.” She shrugged. 

“Now what?” Boomer questioned. “You got me, gonna take my ass to jail?” 

Bubbles thought for a moment and shook her head. It was a little odd to see her blonde curls not up in the infamous ponytails but instead hanging loose on her shoulders. 

“I don’t think so. I don’t see a reason to.” 

He raised a brow. “But I broke in and-”

“I can send you ass to jail.”

“No! Thats not-I’m just wondering on your reasoning.”

Bubbles walked back to the counter and plopped onto it before taking a lollipop for herself. “Do you ever get tired?” 

“Tired?” 

“Tired of being like this?” 

“Like what?” Boomer asked and when he looked at her, she was staring at her hands. “Oh, like that.” he frowned. 

Maybe it would be easier. Actually, it would be easier to not have these powers at times. He wouldn’t have to deal with the power struggle of good and evil or how he lived in his brothers shadows. he wouldn’t have to deal with mixed emotions about his purpose. But then again, he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the chemical X. 

“Sometimes I guess. Why do you?” Boomer questioned. 

She fell silent for a second. “Sometimes.” Of course they felt the same, they were counterparts through and through, maybe she struggled with the same fears as he did? But he didn’t think he should ask. 

He looked at the time on his phone and saw that four am was coming up. He should get going. “Well its been really...something.” He spoke and pushed off the counter. “I guess I’ll see ya or not.” 

He began walking away, the cash register looked like it was untouched and the store was perfectly in place. He threw his lollipop stick in the trash and the double sliding doors opened to the cool air. 

“Boomer?” He stopped in his tracks and looked at her. She was still on the counter, eyes towards the lights. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was envious of you.” 

“Miss perfect is envious of a street rat?” He sounded disgusted with himself but when she met his eyes, she had an expression of pain as if his comment hurt her as well. 

Bubbles now joined him at the front. He never noticed how he was only an inch or two taller than her. Their eyes slightly unleveled but he could hear their heart beats go in sync. 

“But you get to be imperfect and do as you please. I think you have a lot more to you than you realize.” She sighed and reached into her pocket before handing him twenty dollars. “It’s all I have on me but I think it’s better than taking something from a family that means well. If anything, go for corrupt places or even the Morbucks.” She passed him and walked under the moonlight. 

Boomer looked at the crumpled up bill in his hand. He didn’t understand why she did that, she didn’t have to. He was a super villain..well, bad guy so to speak. And yet, someone who he has hated, maybe not hated, cared about his well being and could have easily left him in the dust. 

“Bubbles?” He called after her, not realizing she was already in the air. He jumped and floated up to her, meeting her eyes and she looked at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks. 

“Yeah?” 

He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair. He suddenly became very nervous. “Do you think maybe, we could, uhh, be friends?” 

She blinked those baby blue eyes at him. He thought she was going to reject him. Spit on him or even punch him to the other side of town, the way rivals do. But instead she took his hand and gave him a smile that suddenly warmed his heart. 

“I would like that a lot.” She said. “I’ll see you later Boomer.” 

He offered a small smile but then let out a gasp as her lips touched his cheek quickly and when he opened his eyes, the bright blue streak was across the sky. His heart rate picked up and he found himself reaching up and touching the place her lips were just at. 

He didn’t truly know how to feel but in that moment there was a smile on his face and he felt calm and as if the world started to make a little more sense. 

--

Hope I did the blues justice

[deviant-hunter-rk800]

Break

—Someone’s broken in. Connor is the first person you think to call. But what will he choose?—

A/N: IM BACK!! So this has been on my mind forever now, and I’m so excited it’s finally done!! Please let me know what you think of it!

Warnings: kinda fluffy Connor, swearing, blood, fighting, angsty

“Goddamnit, Kyle!” You rake a hand through your hair, sighing through gritted teeth. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no damn way-”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says tiredly, “there’s nothing I can do.”

Clenching your jaw, you hang up, nearly throwing your phone across the room. You shake your head, wanting very badly to hit something. A headache quickly forms as you mutter curses.

“Thought you were an officer, not a sailor,” Gavin taunts, laughing as he props his feet up on his desk.

“Fuck off, Reed,” you snarl, “or so help me I will shut you up myself.”

He rocks back, laughing even harder at your sour mood. Without warning, you grab the nearest object which happens to be a pencil. He jumps as you bring it down towards his shin, barely missing your mark as he crashes to the floor.

“Crazy bitch,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his head. He slowly stands up, backing away from you. He’s a good ten yards away before he turns towards the door.

“Don’t get me wrong,” someone says. Turning, you recognize Hank and Connor walking towards you, the older man smiling. “Seeing Gavin nearly get shanked brings me great joy,” he sits on your desk, taking the pencil from your clenched fist, “but you could’ve at least used a pen.”

You sigh, picking at your desk. “Don’t judge,” you mutter, “could’ve gotten lead in his blood. Made ‘im real sick.”

“She does have a point,” Connor agrees. Your lips twitch at his pun. Looking up at him, a timid smile pulls at his lips. “I thought it would help your mood.”

“But you’re just gonna ignore she tried to stab Reed?” Hank shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Oh. Okay.”

Connor blinks, head tilting to the side. “I assumed her actions were a side effect of her fever.”

“Fever?” You and Hank say simultaneously. You don’t break eye contact with Connor as you lean towards the older man. “Jinx. You owe me a coffee.”

Hank’s head turns fast, scowling at the side of your face accusingly. You smile innocently at Connor despite the two holes being bore into your head. His brows furrow at your actions.

“You never get sick,” Hank says, the frown tipping into concern, “and now you’ve got a fever?”

“It’s not severe, Lieutenant,” Connor interrupts, “her body temperature is only at ninety nine point-”

“But you don’t get sick,” he repeats.

“Long story short,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair, “I’ll be staying at a motel for a month or so cause the pipes in my apartment building froze.”

Both Hank and Connor’s brows raise. “Holy shit, kid.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, resting your head in your hand. “Kyle — the shitty landlord? — says he can’t get anybody to come look at it for a couple weeks.”

“Why not ditch the motel?” Hank places a hand on your shoulder. “Stay with us till the shit gets fixed.”

“Hank-“

He rolls his eyes, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “Oh c’mon, Y/L/N. I’ll even make pancakes.”

You chew your lip, considering his offer. Bunk with an old cop, his dog, and a cute android? It wasn’t the worst idea. It definitely beat getting some disease from mysterious stains in a broke down motel.

“Alright,” you say finally.

Hank smiles, a dimple pressing into his cheek. He ruffles your hair. “Alright.”

The squeal of brakes from a train echoes distantly accompanied by three solid knocks on the door. Sumo pick his head up off your lap, giving a soft woof. Setting your book down on the nightstand, you scratch his ears, earning a couple whumps of his tail against the bed.

“It’s okay, buddy,” you coo sweetly. You manage to free your legs of the blankets as the saint bernard settles again. Using your foot to swing the door open, you tie up your hair, quietly padding down the hallway.

You’ve just rounded the corner when the handle jostles. You hesitate, holding your breath as muffled curses make their way through the door. Goosebumps rise on your skin. A thousand thoughts flood your mind, the scariest one being, That’s not Hank.

The lock clicks. “Fuck,” you snap, your voice a whisper.

The door swings open, it’s handle denting the drywall as two men push through. You lock eyes with the first man, the two of you standing shell shocked for half a breath. The second, the younger looking with a heavy bruise on his cheekbone, slaps the first.

“Fuckin grab her!” He shouts, slamming the door shut. And just like that, the standoff comes to a jagged end, the first guy lunging at you, his cigarette stained teeth bared.

Grabbing his wrist, you twist his arm to the side, driving the heel of your palm into his nose. Losing his balance, he topples backwards. The second man reaches out, but with a rush of fur blurring by, Sumo latches his teeth into his arm.

“Sumo!” Cigarette Teeth seizes your moment of distraction and get you in a headlock, his forearm held tightly against your throat. Bruise punches the dog in his ribs before throwing him off. “No!”

He adrenaline coursing through you hinders rather than help, turning your motions frantic as you scratch and scream; your fingernails leave angry, red welts across his skin. Bruise moves forward. You bring your knees to your chest, a savage growl pushing through gritted teeth as you kick him in his stomach. The loss of his footing sends him to the floor, his face meeting the wood with a loud thump!

“Jesus, fuck,” the man holding you grunts, an undertone of fear taking over his words.

The slamming of your heel on the arch of his foot paired with the whip of your head against his already bleeding nose earns a well deserved howl of pain.

Finally able to slip from his grasp, you kick Cigarette Teeth in his knee, watching him drop to the floor with a loud cry. You grab the nearest object — a book off one of the many shelves — and bring its spine down across his temple. With a groan, he crumples to the ground.

“Sumo,” you murmur hoarsely, chest heaving. You quickly fall to your knees, gingerly running your hands across his fur, turning his head towards you. “Are you okay? Fuck.”

His tail wags lightly, letting out a small whine. You whip your head to see Bruise pushing himself up with a groan. Quickly looking at your options, you stand up.

“C’mon, boy,” you urge, helping the large dog limp towards the bedroom. “Good boy! Just a little more! C’mon!”

Slamming the door, you rip the chair from the desk, lodging it beneath the door’s handle. You grab your phone from the nightstand, your book long forgotten. Sumo growls.

“I know, buddy,” you say weakly, scrolling hurriedly through your contacts. 1-800-CYBERLIFE comes into view and you hit dial. “C’mon, Connor. Pick up! Pick up!”

A rumble from the other side of the door. Sumo, crouching low, bares his teeth. You back away.

Click.

“Connor?!”

“Why is it,” Hank says dully, “that every time we gotta go chase some fuckin dead end, it’s always at some creepy, abandoned, probably haunted building?”

“If it’s any consolation, the likelihood that this building is haunted is very low.” Hank turns slow at Connor’s remark, glaring at the android with a dangerous look in his eye. Connor tilts his head. “Would you prefer rat infested?”

Hank narrows his eyes, grimacing nonetheless. “I fuckin hate you.”

Connor can’t help the faintest shadow of a smile that tugs at his lips. With a shake of his head, Hank’s attention returns to the warehouse, the rusted sign worn beyond recognition. At least to the human eye; there was still enough residue from the paint for the RK800 to confirm the location, despite the many years.

“I know you do, lieutenant.”

A middle finger is thrown over the older mans shoulder. His free hand taking hold of the door handle, he draws his weapon. Dust kicks up at their feet, the squeal of the hinges echoing off the graffitied walls.

Quiet steps are placed carefully amongst broken glass. Hank pulls one hand from the grip of his gun, his pointer finger aimed at the ceiling, drawing a circle into the air. Connor follows the order, scanning the small room with a flick of his eyes. The disturbance of dirt trailing through the door on the opposite wall is highlighted.

“There,” he says quietly, jutting his chin. Anderson takes the lead.

With the ceiling half collapsed on itself, rusted cross beams hang dangerously low, the sunken roof giving way to a darkened sky. The moonlight — one drag from an old cigar away from hazy — makes the room glow. Hank’s hand lays flat, making a sweeping motion towards the right side of the warehouse. Silently, Connor tips his head.

Parting from one another, each officer carefully makes their way through the building, scanning and searching for leads. Connor ducks beneath a shelving unit, one hand resting on the wall as he maneuvers quietly. He’s sure to miss the rebar haphazardly sticking out from the floor. He stands, but not before the remnants of a bloodstain is highlighted by his sensors.

Walsh, Chris

3 days old

Suspect is injured.

His record is littered with aggravated assault, theft, multiple drug charges, and battery. Violence is nothing new to Walsh, and from previous statements, he finds a certain appeal to the chaos. Got caught more than once, but was often let out on good behavior. There’s a soft curse from the other side of the building, Hank’s flashlight piercing the veiled darkness.

Scanners highlighting an otherwise dark corner, Connor finds himself standing in something akin to a home; a rat’s nest composed of unwanted trash, the bed nothing more than stained cardboard with a tattered and worn sweatshirt acting as a blanket. The android — clean and tidy in every sense of the word, with only a few strands of hair out of place — is so very juxtaposed to his surroundings. Crouching, Connor tilts his head left, eyes darting about for a trace of the suspect. There, on a soda can tipped on its side, it’s contents half spilt onto the floor, are smudges of fingerprints.

Walsh, Chris

7 hours old

“He’s been here, lieutenant,” he calls out. But the answer doesn’t come.

Looking over his shoulder, he stands slowly, carefully awaiting a smart comment or a grumble of disapproval, but there’s only the wind, a distant siren from somewhere in the city, and the tremble of a loaded gun.

“Lieutenant?”

Connor listens, sensors heightened to a degree, he isolates Hank’s heartbeat. It’s slow, steady, and it’s not the only one. The second pulse is wild, barely tamed by ragged breathing. Straightening, the android begins to move.

“Chris Walsh.” His voice is loud in the hollow building, smooth and demanding; dangerous on a calculated level. “Detroit Police, show yourself.”

Keeping the wall to his right, Connor silently makes his way towards Anderson, finding him on his side. The android drops, assessing the remnants of ketamine in an abandoned syringe, a needle mark in the man’s arm. A bruise begins to blossom on his neck, the ugly shade of purple dark against the silvery beard.

Connor grits his teeth, a half contained, “Shit,” escaping him. He radios in to the precinct.

Code 243, 11-41. Officer down.

A frustrated howl rips through the air, the ring of a gunshot piercing. “Where the fuck are you?!”

11-99. 1083 Wilson Avenue. Repeat: 11-99.

Ducking away from the unconscious officer, Connor finds the suspect standing in the spotlight of the broken roof, his eyes darting frantically. Given the levels of chemicals in the man’s system, Connor estimates Hank will wake up in two minutes and forty seven seconds. The android is several paces away before speaking.

“Chris-“ the suspect’s eyes find a spot in the darkness, gun pointed at the yellow — now red — ring of light “-put the gun down.”

“I could- I could kill you! Right now!”

The light touches Connor’s skin, and Walsh jumps. The shadows peel back with every slow step. “No,” the android says flatly, “you can’t.”

“I’m the one with a gun!” Connor nods, not furthering his agreement.  The suspect’s hand shakes, a tremor wracking his entire being. “There’s laws! Androids they-“ a shake of his head “-they can’t have weapons!”

“You’re right.” Hesitation. A smooth step closer. “There are laws. Plenty of which you’ve broken.”

Walsh bares his teeth. Knuckles pale against the black steel, he adjusts his grip, uncomfortable with its weight. Connor begins to circle him. Walsh turns in his place, frantic eyes never leaving the android.

Connor, as calm as he is efficient, watches the suspect, easily filing away every flaw. He’s dissecting him from five yards away. The bandage haphazardly wrapped around his bicep, the bloodstain dark, is most noticeable. Chris is ramabling by now — a desperate attempt at  justifying his actions.

“I’m- I’m sorry, okay? I never wanted- he owed me!” His pleas go unheard. “I didn’t have- have a choice!”

Estimated time of awakening for Lt. Anderson: fifty three seconds.

Reinforcements estimated time of arrival: three minutes and fourteen seconds.

Attack: 86% chance of success

Without further thought, Connor lunges forward. The gun goes off, missing it’s mark by inches and with a dramatic clatter, it skids across the floor. Programming takes over his movements; a dog, trained to be unforgivingly vicious. And Chris – poor, poor Chris – was the cat.

A whir of mechanisms within the android urge his movements, ducking beneath a wid swing. In turn, a knee is brought to the fugitive’s stomach, folding him over with a grunt of pain. Locking his jaw, a determined look settles on his face. He wraps his arms around Connor, lifting him off the ground and tackling him into a nearby shelving unit.

The pressure on his biocomponents is unwelcome and earns a groan. Walsh takes hold of the android’s shoulders, spinning him, and driving his head into the corner of the shelf. Blue blood easily spills. Before another blow can befall him, Connor braces himself, pushing back against Walsh’s hold. But he still has his momentum and slams his own nose into the android’s elbow.

He cradles his now broken nose, blood quickly flowing between his fingers. Connor turns. LED still a blaring red, thirium drips from his left brow, the liquid following the shape of his eye socket before rolling over his cheekbone and dripping off his jaw. If he needed to breathe, his chest would be heaving. He makes no effort to fix his crumpled (and now stained) shirt nor straighten his tie. Disheveled but nowhere near distraught, he suddenly fits his surroundings.

Incoming call: Detective Y/L/N.

He answers, hesitating when he hears a hushed yet frantic, “Connor?!”

“Detective?” His mouth doesn’t move, but his voice rings through all the same. You let out a choked breath. “I thought you-“

“I need your help,” you cut him off.

He can’t see you flinch at the pounding of the door, but he can hear the fear in your voice. Hank, from the other side of the room, groans.

“Now may not be the best time, Detective.”

His answer is cold, but Walsh is eyes the door behind him, feet shifting.

“Please! Please!” A fleeting thought occurs to him that’s he’s never seen, let alone heard, you cry. “Two guys broke in, Con. They’re twice-“ your voice cracks “-twice my size and I don’t think I can hold them off.”

Sirens close in around the building. Had the call not been directly wired into his head, he would’ve missed the way your voice died at the end. Walsh’s finger wrap deftly around an iron rod. Raising it above his head, he takes a swing which Connor narrowly misses.

“What is it they want?”

“I don’t know!” Venom taints your tone. “Lemme ask em real quick!”

Chris recovers, bringing the rod over Connor’s throat, forcing him to bend backwards if only slightly.

“Think, Y/N.” The android brings his elbow to the man’s rib cage, but his grip is firm. “How do you get out of this?”

There’s true terror in your voice now. “I don’t know! Connor, please! I need-“

You’re cut off by your own yelp, the door finally giving way, splinters flying. Sumo barks wildly. There’s a thud, the scuffle of feet, and the sounds of a fight.

“Detective?”

Now he’s worried. Hell, he’s scared. Flashlights flood the room and Walsh’s head snaps to the source. Panicking, he drops the rod all together, taking off towards the back corner.

“Y/N?!”

He says it out loud this time, but there’s no response. There’s a loud crack within his own head, followed by a sickening thump of something heavy hitting the carpet.

Time slows – no, it feels like it slows. Damn near coming to a halt as the sight of Walsh’s back, his feet carrying him towards freedom. But there’s also the silence that he so desperately wishes would leave him; an ache to hear your laugh, saying it was all a joke. It doesn’t come, and with one of Sumo’s cries cut short, he knows something is terribly wrong.

And yet, he hesitates.

[X] SAVE HER

[O] CHASE SUSPECT

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