A cynic and a slob

And those are my good points.

[lackadaisical-detective]

Does Jim know you like men?

Dunno. Didn't ask, didn't tell. 

[such-vodka]

Food en We Heart It.

[silly-luv]

[pistanthrouphobia]

Visit Original Link

Hate myself for loving you- Joan Jett

[kapelput]

Damnit, Nygma.

[lackadaisical-detective]

(( I'm bored and free this weekend so if anyone wants to RP, shoot me a starter

I'll only do a few though--otherwise I'll get flooded D:))

[kapelput]

Edward: Star Trek TNG fan Bullock: Star Trek TOS fan Gordon: "I dunno...I kind of liked Deep Space Nine" Bullock: "SHUT THE FUCK UP"

[lackadaisical-detective]

#((on the phone with blaze)) #((the most serious of headcannons)) #((look harvey liking star trek is in the comics and i'll never let it go))

((No but you guys it's actually cannon look))

[lackadaisical-detective]

When I say I love 'em all,  you know damn well I mean it!

[fuckyeahbogart]

Humphrey Bogart in Dead End (1937)

[kapelput]

Shackles of fright-induced rigor mortis fell at Oswald’s feet. The corpse scrambled and tore down the street, desperate to evade the lawman.

The panicked sprint was murder on his leg, but the cold barrel of a gun could transcend metaphor into something more literal - and Oswald ran faster. Bullock wasn’t one for speaking poetically.

Stark unrelenting images of the pier clouded his eyes. Its slate skies and unforgiving water that left a film of grime on his flesh. The long walk to its end, all his pleas and guile dying in the wind. That fat, scruffy swine sitting on the hood just watching. If Oswald’s justice was to be served, he would have to escape. To live. So the pig could be slaughtered another day.

It was in the thick of these formidable sentiments that the flightless bird toppled over a broken crate, while turning down an alley. Pain shot up from the bad leg, virulent and immobilizing. And it became very clear that that was only the beginning.  

[lackadaisical-detective]

If they had been anywhere else, the chase might've caught some attention. But they were downtown--police chases were the norm. People instinctively stepped out of his way as he barreled through the masses. He would've mentally thanked them if his brain wasn't already buzzing like an angry hive of hornets.

Between Oswald's limp and the detective's surprising speed (for a bulky guy he could be quick on his feet when need be), it didn't take long for Bullock to catch up with the sickly brat in the alley. However, they were still too close to the public eye...and while most people downtown had learned to look away, this particular beating Harvey wanted to remain secret.

The last thing he needed was for one of Fish men or--god forbid--Falcone's men to walk by and find out Jim hadn't followed through. 

His pace barely slowed as he dipped down to grab Oswald by the greasy, tattered collar. "Oh no," he sarcastically sneered through gritted teeth, "Don't get up on MY behalf, pal. Here....let me HELP you."

Bullock didn't bother yanking the traitor to his feet, opting instead to drag him deeper into the ally like the discarded trash he was. The detective flashed a look over his shoulder, making sure they weren't being followed or watched, and as soon as the coast was clear, his hardened eyes scanned the alleyway for a good "interrogation spot".

Sadism trickled in his veins when he caught sight of a stack of glass beer bottles near the dumpster. Side kicking the bottles so they tumbled and shattered on the filthy ground, Bullock carelessly discarded Oswald into the newly formed pile of broken glass before pressing the toe of his muddy boot into the criminal's recently-snapped leg, applying enough pressure to hurt, but not enough to make him scream.

"I'm about ten seconds from makin' sure you never walk again, Cobblepot. So unless you're a clone and this is some X Files bullshit, you better gimme a god damn AMAZING reason why you're back in Gotham."

He stepped on him harder, twisting his foot a little so his raw leg dug into the glass.

[imadoctornota-blog]

lackadaisical-detective liked this post

[lackadaisical-detective]

"Oh so yer judgin’ me now?" he sneered, slipping the flask into his coat pocket. Drinking on the job was hardly anything new for the disgruntled cop—but even Harvey would admit, knocking back a pint during a homicide case, especially during the first 48 hours, is questionable…

…But the stiff who’s slaughter they were investigating was a known scumbag. A crazy religious nut who’d protest at weddings and funerals. She’d make Westboro Baptist Church look modest….and nobody else. Sure, a murder’s a murder, but Harvey didn’t care. He’d drink as much as he’d damn well please…hell, he’d sooner wipe his arse with her case file than solve it. Ol’ bat got what she deserved.

[imadoctornota-blog]

"I don’t judge Harv," Jim said, "but when your drinkin’ effects my job? Then yea, I’m going to say something." Looking back at the building Jim said, "you damn near blew it in there, just. .. be careful."

[lackadaisical-detective]

"Saved yer ass in there, that's what I did." Harvey mumbled, sneering.

To be fair, both of them flubbed that investigation up something fierce. The owner of the old woman's apartment building was a nasty son of a gun, and Gordon was asking too many questions for his taste, so he got a little shovey with the cop. Sure, Harvey didn't have to threaten the guy with intense bodily harm....but his mind was a tad clouded at the moment. But misconduct was still misconduct, and the two officers had to leave the premises before things got out of hand and they got their asses sued.

"Look pal, my lil' booze habit's never effected nobody, ok? Now I don't bother you when yer head's in th' clouds....so what I do in my spare time is MY problem. Not yers. Capisce?" Detective Bullock didn't get an answer from Jim, but he didn't need one. He trudged back towards their squad car...maybe there was a warrant somewhere in the glove compartment that he could fudge the writing on and get them back in the complex.

[lackadaisical-detective]

What's the answer to any 'n all'a Nigma's riddles?

Starin' 'em down 'n tellin' him to get you coffee.

Bam. Just saved all you rookies a hellofalotta headaches.

You're welcomed

[leagueofdc]

Reblog if you're a DC roleplayer

Masterlist here

[kapelput]

Harvey was making small talk at the hotdog cart beside the road, laughing about something unheard by the bird-faced rat. Gesturing wildly with one hand, a dog in the other, he didn’t recognize the limping man hobbling towards him….and why would he? He wasn’t looking for him…in fact, currently, he was on a completely unrelated case. His mind was elsewhere.

If Oswald could slip past the distracted detective….he might just have a shot at fleeting freedom.

[kapelput]

Oswald’s lips became a very thin firm line. He looked like a cadaver, still and white, rage boiling under every cold inch of skin.

Cavalcades of pedestrians surged toward him, narrowly diverting his person. Rather than force his way upstream, plodding by with one leg dragging behind the first, the dead man turned - to silently retreat .

Then he felt fingers on his pocket.

   "Stop!"

In one terrible moment, he was left grasping for the words as they departed from his lips and the ratty pair of pickpockets that went tearing past him. A crinkled bill was visible, sticking out from a tiny pair of digits.

[lackadaisical-detective]

The sudden yelp made Bullock turn his head. It was instinctive, and as soon as he laid eyes on the money-snatching kids, the detective nearly resolved to let it go. Yeah, he was a cop and cops should stop pickpockets...but who was he to make a couple of hungry brats fork over their food money? 

Beisdes, he thought as his hardened eyes casually flickered to the man who made the call, that guy probably doens't need the cash as much as those--

What.

The fuck.

Years of working Gotham's seediest streets and Harvey had thought he'd seen it all, but a dead man downtown? That was a new one. Temper combusting, his mind raced with confusion and fury and Shawn of the Dead flashbacks. Remove the head, destroy the brain. Obviously, in the back of his mind, Harvey knew the staggering, pasty-faced runt wasn't a zombie, but by the way his body sprang into action, he might has well been.

"Jesus christ, yer ali--HEY! Stop! Hold it right there!" He yelled, knocking people down in pursuit, mumbling under his breath, "Bastard better NOT be, if 'e knows what's good fer 'em...!"

[lackadaisical-detective]

Protip: 

Dot watchthe nootmare befo crifftmas wiole drunkk ir'ts a LOp s adder

[kapelput]

lackadaisical-detective

[kapelput]

A small fist full of bills, a switch blade. All that was material and of importance to Oswald Cobblepot fit securely into a single pocket.

He kept his head down. His collar high. It was impressive, being the dead man walking - but invited something short of friendly attention.

There was still flecks of blood stuck between the nails of his dominant hand, and the skin. His fingers crept occassionally to the handle of the knife. Every step became a stagger, with the occassionall hiccuping lurch, as travel wore on his mangled leg.

His weapon was substandard, and to swiftly flee - impossible. But the detective was armed. And Detective Bullock could run.

   "Oh, shit.”

[lackadaisical-detective]

Harvey was making small talk at the hotdog cart beside the road, laughing about something unheard by the bird-faced rat. Gesturing wildly with one hand, a dog in the other, he didn't recognize the limping man hobbling towards him....and why would he? He wasn't looking for him...in fact, currently, he was on a completely unrelated case. His mind was elsewhere.

If Oswald could slip past the distracted detective....he might just have a shot at fleeting freedom.

[imadoctornota-blog]

lackadaisical-detective liked this post

"Wow…just…wow…" Jim shook his head, walking away from Harvey.

[lackadaisical-detective]

"Oh so yer judgin' me now?" he sneered, slipping the flask into his coat pocket. Drinking on the job was hardly anything new for the disgruntled cop--but even Harvey would admit, knocking back a pint during a homicide case, especially during the first 48 hours, is questionable...

...But the stiff who's slaughter they were investigating was a known scumbag. A crazy religious nut who'd protest at weddings and funerals. She'd make Westboro Baptist Church look modest....and nobody else. Sure, a murder's a murder, but Harvey didn't care. He'd drink as much as he'd damn well please...hell, he'd sooner wipe his arse with her case file than solve it. Ol' bat got what she deserved.