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evilwriter37 · 28 days

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Selling Your Soul

Rated: mature

Warnings: referenced murder

Relationships: Viggo/Hiccup

Word Count: 700

Summary: Hiccup, accidentally complicit in a murder, has no choice but to help Viggo hide the body.

Written for @seasonaldelightsbingo. Language of Flowers.

Square Filled: Can't Tell a Soul

Inspired by this piece by @mdoodlerfandomart!

#seasonal delights bingo #language of flowers bingo #bingo #httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd rtte #rtte #race to the edge #httyd au #modern au #angst #referenced murder #hiding a body #murder mention #vigcup #hiccup haddock #viggo grimborn #fanfiction #writing

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doctordiscord123 · 3 months

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Initiation

Silver gets initiated into the Blackwoods.

Commission Info | Buy me a ko-fi

+++++

Silver swallowed nervously as he approached the abandoned warehouse. Illinois had texted him the address a couple days ago with a date and time – how he got his phone number, Silver didn’t want to think about. He missed Wilford, and Yancy, and God he missed Jackie already, but he couldn’t risk a check in. Not when he was undoubtedly being researched as deep as possible for this ‘initiation’ Illinois had mentioned.

As he pushed open the warehouse door, he nervously fiddled with the leather jacket he wore. Abe had taken him out to discuss the new wardrobe, and though Silver was never really an ‘old band t-shirt and leather jacket’ kind of guy, he had to admit he looked nice. He looked bolder, more confident than he felt, and it helped with the nerves a little.

Feeling that confidence, he closed the door, calling out into the darkness. “…Hello?”

Immediately, there was a man upon him. Easily several inches taller than Silver, wearing a floor-length trench coat and black dress shirt, and with one, piercing golden eye seeming to bore into his very soul. His other eye covered by an eyepatch with a cartoon image of an eye printed on in white, he kept his hair long, a blond streak running bold through it, and the scar that covered the left side of his face in jagged lines was haunting.

He also didn’t look very impressed.

Read the rest on Ao3!

#my writing #ego guns n roses #the host #googleplier #illinois ahwm #the silver shepherd #blood #gang au #execution #kidnapping #hiding a body #fun stuff fun stuff

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kayabingleton · 1 year

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#smh #bing #bing ai #hiding a body

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pixlokita · 4 months

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Aight so infection au ? Saw some cool ones so wanted to try it too✨💕

Blob Greg version under the cut pffft-

He be a blob otherwise it’s too sad, but I put the original concept with the other spooky designs 👌

#fnaf #my art #five nights at freddy's #fnaf security breach #infection au #glamrock bonnie #glamrock freddy #glamrock chica #monty gator #fnaf gregory #gore #scopophobia #uhhhhhh #body horror #hmmmmmmmm #????#I think that’s it #-goes back into hiding-#bless

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artiststarme · 4 months

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Eddie “had a guy” for everything. He had a music guy, a drug guy, a guy who knew other guys, and another guy that could get a guy for the thing that needed a guy. He had a guy to get the best flannels, a guy to do his homework, finally, and a movie guy to Although his movie guy was just Robin calling his movie taste shitty and recommending all of her favorites to him so she could third-wheel his and Steve’s dates to watch them.

Meanwhile, all of Steve’s “I have a guy” guys are Dustin. Need a guy to complain to over hairspray getting discontinued? Dustin. Need a guy to hang out with you for the day while your boyfriend is out of town for a concert? Dustin. Need to hunt down an otherworldly slimy monster that eats cat and wants to kill people? Dustin.

Except if he needs to hide a dead body. That’s when he calls Robin.

#Robin is the type to help hide a dead body #but Dustin is still offended to learn that that’s where Steve draws the line #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson

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puppetmaster13u · 5 months

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Prompt 160

Constantine might have made a slight mistake. Just an itty bitty one. Okay maybe not an itty bitty one, but it’s not like he usually deals with Realms beings! No one deals with Realms beings if they can help it, and never willingly!

So maybe he had been a little more drunk than usual, and maybe a tiny bit more desperate. But he’s pretty sure he didn’t do any hanky-panky with anyone. So he’s very confused as to how the fuck, he apparently has not just one, but three Realms-cores?!

Seriously, what the actual fuck, who looked at him of all people and decided, yeah, he looks like he could be a dad?! Mom!? Whatever the fuck it is.

What the fuck is he supposed to do in this situation!?

#DcxDp #DpxDc #prompts #Constantine is having a meltdown #He’s the one whose always telling other people to not mess with stuff they don’t understand #And then This fuckin happens #Halfas are like phoenixes when they emerge from their cores because they have to completely regrow their bodies #Constantine is Not prepared for three Realms-babies #How did this happen? Good question- Go wild #He is going to hide this from JL & JL Dark for as long as he can manage #It's either the Dannys; Team Phantom; or 3 of Danny's clones #does it count as mpreg if it's ghost cores

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spacedace · 2 months

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Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

#dpxdc #jazz fen #jason todd #social worker jazz #social worker jazz fenton #anger management ship #anger management #pre anger management #jason todd x jazz fenton #i don't know why i keep writing scenes where Jazz writes resumes to apply to work for crime bosses but it just feels right in my soul okay #the real reason Jason wears a full face helmet is so people can't tell when he utterly fails to hide his emotions about something #the idea of social worker jazz working in crime alley has completely consumed me mind body and soul

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fandomsandfeminism · 1 year

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As we move towards the summer months, this is a healthy reminder that:

BMI is misapplied at best and pseudoscience at worst.

That genetics have far more affect on body type than any other factor.

That a "healthy weight" varies wildly from person to person.

That your body's actual healthy weight shouldn't require constant dieting to maintain.

That some studies have shown that being slightly "overweight" based on BMI actually makes you more resilient against injury and illness.

That unless your weight is actually directly causing you mobility issues or pain, it isn't a problem.

That movement and food should be a source of joy, not self discipline and stress.

That everyone looks better in clothes that fit properly.

That being hydrated and well fed is far more important to your health than you realize.

That fed is best.

That chiseled abs are only really visible if you are dehydrated.

That feeling the sun on your skin and bird song can heal the parts of you that years of dieting and weight watching and self criticism has injured.

That you have no obligation to be sexy or beautiful.

That you should never say things about your own body that you wouldn't say about a friend's or a partner's.

That it is not a moral imperative to be healthy or mobile or skinny.

That the people who judge you for your weight are fighting their own demons.

That People are absolutely terrible at guessing a person's weight. How you dress and carry yourself has far more impact on perception.

That You don't have to be beautiful to enjoy a beautiful day.

Better happy than skinny.

Feeling good is better than looking good.

#anti diet culture #dont hide in baggy clothes #our cultures aversion to nonsexual nudity has really warped our perception of bodies #bodies are weird #feeling good is better than looking good #feminism #this is for men too #women nonbinary genderqueer everyone #please drink water and eat food #food is so good #food is a gift

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eirene · 2 months

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Hide The Body, 1933

Mead Schaeffer

#Hide The Body #art #painting #art history #illustration #1930s #Mead Schaeffer #crime #noir #american art

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outoftimewriting · 4 months

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dick might be damian's parent in loco, but his favorite brother is tim. im convinced he would kill for tim. he would die for tim. he would join tim in his unavoidable villainy. and tim would kick damian through a window and hit jason with a crowbar for a dollar, so.

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 4 years

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“On Serious Charge,” Toronto Globe. August 15, 1930. Page 3. ---- Belleville, Aug. 14 - (Special.) - Agnes Dafoe, aged 24, was arrested this afternoon, and has been charged with concealing the birth of an infant. Serious charges may be laid, according to the authorities. The arrest of the young woman follows the finding of the body of an infant child by William Albert Dafoe on Aug. 6 wrapped in a blanket and secreted at the rear of his home. Dafoe turned the remains over to the police. The father was taken by surprise when informed today that his daughter had been arrested and charged with the crime.

#belleville #concealing the birth of infant #serious charge #serious offence #child birth #infanticide #dead baby #hiding a body #woman in the toils #great depression in canada #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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ijjstlostthegame · 5 months

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