interrogating the evidence
dirt enthusiast

@theartofmadeline
d e v o n
art blog(derogatory)

⁂
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
RMH
One Nice Bug Per Day
DEAR READER
almost home

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Not today Justin
YOU ARE THE REASON

No title available

Kaledo Art
Stranger Things
ojovivo
No title available
taylor price

seen from United States

seen from North Macedonia

seen from France

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from Israel

seen from Morocco
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from T1
seen from United States
@hehatesandroids
interrogating the evidence
Partners
hank meeting connor’s boyfriend, the revolution leader, markus --
markus: hank hank: that’s lieutenant anderson to you markus: lieutenant anderson, why is there a gun on the table hank, actively loading bullets into it: connor: hank.
Bonus scene after their heartwarming ending :’)
Connor scribbled on a post-it note and stuck it to the bottle of whiskey he knew the Lieutenant didn't think he knew about. A simple note: 'Remember that stroking a pet or talking to a friend is statistically more likely to help your mental state than this - Connor'
@slightlybrcken
It’s the inevitable tango between a man and the android he called his partner – all to prevent Hank from getting to his alcohol. He used to have whiskey readied in every corner of his house until Connor decided it was time to intervene. Now, Hank had to resort to cheap tactics to hide them -- behind cereal boxes, under his bed, in Sumo’s dog food. After the years he spent cracking down on Red Ice, he knew better than that, knew that Connor would find them easily with his damn investigation skills. It’s become a game of sorts -- and considering uncreative his hiding spots were, maybe Hank wanted them to be found.
That’s why he was surprised when he reached under his bed and felt the bottle where he expected nothing. Holding it up to eye-level, he regards the sticky note with a face -- contemplative and dry. It’d be simple enough to crumble it up and pretend that he never saw it at all.
Instead, he sighs deeply, smoothing the sticky note out and slapping it onto his dresser before plopping the bottle down, trading it for Sumo’s leash.
“Hey, Sumo -- wanna go for a walk?” And the answer was an immediate hell yeah, evidenced by the dog’s excited yelp and the way he began pacing restlessly around the sofa.
Maybe by the time they’re done, Connor would be back home.
i’ll be on later but please consider, connor joining in on hank’s habit of leaving sticky notes everywhere when he moves in.
Apparently it’s national kissing day! You know what that means~
It means you can all kiss my ass
Watsky - Sloppy Seconds
This is about as close to a cool Connor as I will ever draw, I just can’t draw cool Connors I only know how to draw dorky or cute Connors. =D=;;
stop dying on me, please
[narrator voice] he was, in fact, very Not Sorry
connor meets the detroit k-9 unit (and their newest trainee)🐶
I’m losing my goddamn mind over Hank’s newspaper clippings, including classics like:
"A MAN TRAPPED HIS CAR WITH ELECTRICAL FENCE AND DIED ELECTROCUTED"
"42 YEAR OLD MAN CHOKED TO DEATH BY LIVE FISH"
“THIRTY FOUR DIED IN A CHURCH COLLAPSE...WHILE PRAYING”
Gavin spent the early shift fiddling with Hank's desk, creating a sort of glitter bomb in the drawer he knew Hank used the most. When he'd open it, it would absolutely blow up in his face. Hovering in the break room, he waits to watch and see when Hank's going to eat some fucking glitter. He's hyped. ( its time for me to harass ur muses again uwu )
@detidgaf
Hank liked to think of himself as an attentive man – liked to think that he could sense mischief coming from a mile away. But today, he fucks up – and whether it’s because alcohol has dulled his sense over the years or because he was lulled into a false sense security at the precinct was up to debate. What matters was that he sat down at his desk, pulled that drawer open and –
“SHIT – what the ffFFFFUCK –”
The man was hollering loud enough that Fowler stands up from his glass prison of an office to see what was happening, and what was fucking happening was that Hank had knocked his chair over after standing up too quickly, practically covered from head to ass-crack in goddamn glitter. Everything on his desk, from the files he was meant to review to his half-filled coffee mug to his tragically opened box of donuts – they were caked in a layer of goddamn glitter. Fuck.
…And has he mentioned yet that there was GODDAMN GLITTER all over his shit?
Seething was an understatement, he takes one look down at his bedazzled outfit and loses his goddamn mind. The culprit was clear as day, snickering to himself like the motherfucker he is. Hank wasn’t going to let him get away with it, already taking heavy-footed steps towards the break room. “Gavin – you little prick. C’MERE. I’m gonna knock your teeth out…!”
defective-servxnt:
--
“Lieutenant, I don’t think that’s how it works-”
“You’re gonna try and tell me how to eat?” Hank scoffs, that sinful spoonful of whiskey and cheerio’s just centimeters from his mouth. “Just what’s wrong with it, Connor?”
Sleepy, sloppy, and hungover -- the man was pouring whiskey into his morning cereal instead of milk.
Saint calvin told me not to worry about you But he’s got his own things to deal with There’s really just one thing that we have in common Neither of us will be missed
A saint bernard sits at the top of the driveway You always said how you loved dogs I don’t know if i count But i’m trying my best When i’m howling and barking these songs