Then There’s Mrs. Cole. The Suspicious, Strict Matron Who Takes No Shit And Was Probably The One To

Bleeding Out, Bleeding In - the Start

This is the start of the resulting fic from the winning poll option of 'Crime Boss is a Dangerous Job'. And boy did it go places.

A solid 40 of you wanted to wait for ao3, but the other 59 are feral gremlins who want a part now! Those who want to wait, don't feel pressured to read. This might be up on ao3 this week or if not then next week! (Yes, that doesn't add up to 100, one vote is me so I can see the poll results.)

wc: 1059 Content Warnings: canon typical violence, blood, blood drinking, mentions of death and dying, brief mentions of human tracking, so much cussing.

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Brainless motherfuckers.

Every single one of them, brainless motherfuckers.

One would think that eight heads in a duffel bag would have been enough.

One would think that people would learn his fucking rules. They were easy rules. Don’t hurt kids. Don’t sell to kids. Don’t hurt sex workers. Don’t traffic people. Don’t fuck with him.

And these motherfuckers had fucked with him. They had fucked with his rules.

Red Hood stared down at the lifeless eyes of the traitorous lieutenant.

Ex-lieutenant.

Brainless motherfucker.

Hood was insulted that someone that incompetent had managed to make him bleed, even if it had been eleven against one. And fuck if he wasn’t bleeding badly. Hood pressed his hand tighter to his wound with a hiss and let himself slump back against the grimy wall of the ally that he had slunk into. His hand became wet with warmth.

He must have already bled through the hasty field bandage that he had slapped on the wound.

Numbers slipped through Red Hood’s foggy mind as he tried to calculate about just how bad of a fact that was— about how heavily he must be bleeding out. Fuck if he wasn’t bleeding out.

Could he make it to his safe house in time? No. Could someone make it to him in time? Maybe, but who could he call? He wasn’t going to turn around and let another lieutenant stab him in the other side. B— maybe it would be better to just bleed out than deal with B and another lecture. As if this hadn’t been in self defense. As if he hadn’t acted to stop kids from being sold. As if a moment of hesitancy about killing a man he’d been working closely with for a year had been what got Hood in this spot.

And Dick was off world.

Dick was always off world when he needed him.

That wasn’t fair. What did Dick owe him? It’s not like they had ever been family. Dick had never wanted him. The last person who had wanted him didn’t even want him enough to stay sober.

Blood loss made him maudlin, apparently.

Dying by explosion had been easier.

“You know, not what I expected to find dumpster diving tonight.”

Hood’s hand dropped to brush over the grip of his gun. It was up and aimed before his head even had time to lull towards the voice. The hand holding the gun was steady even as his vision swam staring down the sight.

“Not that I’m doubting you can use that, Boss, but would rather you didn’t,” the stranger said, hands up in the air. One large duffel sat at their feet. Another smaller duffel was slung over their back. A hoodie at least three sizes too big swamped the slim figure— hiding both their form and face. The steel toed boots looked comically large at the end of stick thin legs.

Hood knew better than to think they weren’t a threat.

Anyone could be a threat in Gotham.

“Really, Boss, I’m just out here dumpster diving for supplies,” they continued, motioning to the warehouse district around them. “Not going to lie and say I won’t happily loot your corpse if you keel over right there, but would rather you stay breathing. I can help with that, if you let me.”

“And if I say no?” Hood asked, his voice a breathless rasp even through the modulation of the helmet.

“If you say no to the help, I’ll just be on my way. There are other dumpsters to go through like the feral raccoon that I am.”

His arm dropped down to hang limply at his side. He didn’t take his finger off the trigger. He shouldn’t trust this stranger. “Look more like a street rat to me.”

“We’ll compromise to possum then,” they said, slowly lowering their arms.

He shouldn’t trust this stranger. Did it mater if he did?

He was bleeding out.

The gun slotted back into its holster.

“There you are Boss, we’ll get you patched back up.”

Hood blinked. They were tucking themselves under his shoulder, leaning him up off the warehouse wall.

Hood blinked. They were disabling security on a heavy, cast iron door set into a concrete floor.

Hood blinked.

“Not going to lie, Boss, you’re in a bad way.” The words were distant— like listening to them through a thick wall. Static ran under the words. Static that burrowed under his skin and into his blood.

Static that burned at a part of him he tried to ignore.

“Think they got something pretty vital with that knife.”

He didn’t want to burn.

“Stitched you up but…”

He didn’t want to die.

“Oh Boss.”

Not again.

“I know, Boss.”

A cold hand brushed over his temple and he couldn’t hold back the whine at the sensation. He strained to arch up into the touch. He wanted it. He wanted to feel. He didn’t want to slip away again. He didn’t want that void of death. He didn’t want to die again.

The voice shushed him. “I know.”

He trembled. The static sang in his veins.

“There’s something I can try, Boss, but it will change thing.”

Things were always changing.

“Not like this. You’re not on the knife’s edge yet. You’re still living. If you die you right now you tip over to the other side.”

He’d done that before.

“I know, Boss. But if we do this, you’re not going to tip over anymore, you’re going to balance on that knife’s edge. Not dead but not alive. It’s a fine line to walk.”

Everything in his life was a tightrope: hero, villain; son, enemy; brother, stranger. What was one more thing? Alive, dead.

He didn’t want to be dead again.

“Okay, Boss, okay.”

The hand pulled a whine from his throat as it moved away. A soft coo hushed him quiet again. The sound rumbled in with the static untill the soothing noise sat inside him.

His head tilted up as something slid under his neck. Hands guided his head to lay back down onto a soft surface.

Something wet dripped against his lips. Spice bloomed across his tongue.

“There you go, Boss,” the voice soothed. The coo rumbled in his chest like a fluttering bird. “Drink up.”

Cold skin and wet warmth pressed against his lips.

Jason drank.

i think we as modern humans have a tendency to forget that historical people were also humans who had thoughts and feelings and dreams just like we do

Modern Sherlock Holmes but he’s a 27 year old, drinks energy drinks only, is astonishing polite and has no idea how the solar system works because it was never relevant to a case but can name every every person involved in making Super Mario Bros because he did need that for a case once.

Watson is continuously appalled about his eating habits and makes vague posts on Twitter that ends in threads like

Watson: “My roommate noticed only today that he can label his email inboxs but took apart his entire bloody laptop two weeks ago.”

Person: “This reminds me of the post about the roommate who couldn’t turn on the coffee machine but remembers like 500 numbers of pi”

Watson: “I’ll be delighted to inform you that this is the very same roommate.”

Lost & found by StupidoomDoodles- part12

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Bonus

Trunks gets sick

Queen B being awesome 😎

The looks on Trunks' face when he says "thanks Mama" 🙉 🙈

Goncharov (1973) dir. Martin Scorsese

“The greatest mafia movie (n)ever made.”

Taking care of your depressed eldritch boyfriend (?)

More eldritch Lucifer, this time I made a full body design

AppleRadio hires IMP to get gifts for Charlie

Charlie's knowledge of Earth began and ended in Eden. After living in Hell her whole life, she couldn't even comprehend a world where humans did not kill and maim each other out in the open.

Sinners often discarded their morality, because if you were in Hell -you'd already hit rock-bottom. She wants to remind sinners of their humanity and give them a bit of Earth in Hell.

But she wouldn't even know where to begin, what to bring to Hell, how to avoid being burned at the stake- (did humans still do that??)

Luckily her dad and hotelier separately overheard her frustrations and discovered IMP.

Lucifer comes up with a quick ew sinner disguise and heads on down to hire them to bring back Earth stuff. Everything goes well, but the trouble arrives when he goes to pick up the stuff IMP had brought back.

Alastor had stopped by and requested the same thing, so Blitzo decided to kill 2 sinners with 1 trip and have them come pick up their shit at the same time.

--

Lucifer strolls into IMP's office with his very bad sinner disguise in place like he hadn't spent the last 3 days in his workshop with no sleep. And then stops in his tracks once he actually sees him. Fucking Alastor.

"What are you doing here?"

"Why it seems we both had the very same idea for our darling daughter!"

"First off, MY daughter! Second of all-"

IMP watches this thinking they're a divorced couple with a daughter who really hate each other.

They eventually leave get kicked out with their merchandise and present their spoils to Charlie.

She loves it. And maybe could they pretty please find this one other thing a resident missed on Earth-Oh! Actually, Baxter wanted to test Earth materials against Hells could they maybe-?

They each leave for IMP with 2 very long lists.

I just got into adventure time and as a fellow rumple fan that was one of my first thoughts. I want to see a fic portraying Rumple with the same sympathy AT treats Simon and how stark the difference is between pre and post Dark One Rumple. 

(If this already exists please share fic recs)

So it’s 3am and I’ve just come to a conclusion…

Simon from Adventure Time and Rumple from OUAT… are basically the same character in terms of backstory.

Imagine if Vaggie and Alastor bond together over their hatred of men.

There'd be a whole funny song about it, only for the final verse to be Alastor saying, "I've always felt like a woman anyway!"

The song would proceed to end due to Vaggie short-circuiting over what Alastor just said.