#i am creative this week

[cigarrretesss]

so, hear me out

after the final game, Riko scapes, he is alive but missing. everyone is looking for him, but none can find him.

a few months later, he appears in the cousins' house, there are just Neil and Andrew, the others are at Eden's.

Andrew protects Neil, but Riko has a gun and before andrew can react, Neil puts him body beetwen the bullet and Drew. Andrew somehow manages to kill Riko, but he can't save Neil. He dies, bled in Andrew's arms.

"Neil, don't close your eyes. look at me. you can not die, you hear me i won't allow it"

"Are you hurt?"

andrew shakes his head, not trusting his own voice

"Good, thats good."

"DO NOT CLOSE YOUR EYES, NEIL. DON'T." "don't go. neil, open your eyes for me"

"i'm sorry. mein alles"

"then don't leave, don't leave me. please, don't." "please"

neil josten dies at 23:56 november 4, 2007.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

With the end of season two comes a second redraw!

[Nov 2022] [June 2023] [June 2024]

[reapersynth]

i wish i was a little bit taller i wish i was a baller....

[grayisblogging]

‘gotham gazette’ newspaper promo for ‘the penguin’ hints at harvey dent addition to the universe— “is our legal system dented beyond repair?” + riddler crumbs :>

[phoenixmetaphor]

chreon week 2024 - day 2 (belated) - post vendetta

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Deep Water Prompt #3348

The three pigeons on the wire that faces my bedroom window are one entity, waiting and watching, heads following me as one. I cannot seem to get an accurate count of their eyes.

[raineandsky]

teasing villain and stoic hero? :0

hell yea i love this :O thank you for the request!!

tw: suggestive

“My favourite hero!” the villain cries delightedly. “Tell me, what’s the plan tonight, hm? Bare hands? A blade to the throat? Whips and chains?”

“The plan for you,” the hero says shortly, “is jail.”

The villain gasps excitedly. “Ooh, does that mean you’re gonna put me in cuffs?” They laugh brightly. “Classy.”

The hero steps into a swing. The villain flits back and the hero’s fist meets thin air.

“You missed, darling.” The villain grins, their hand running through their hair. “Don’t go for the face, though. You know I like to look good in my mug shots.”

“I’ll go for whatever means you lose,” the hero says coldly.

“That doesn’t mean you win though, does it?”

“You losing means I win.”

The hero moves in for another attack. The villain reels back and retaliates with a knife in their hand. The hero just pulls away as the blade drags a thwip! through the air in front of them.

“Come on, [Hero].” The villain twists the knife in their hand, their head cocked to the side. “Play nice and I might let you pin me to a wall somewhere.”

A slight sneer pulls at the hero’s lip. “If you don’t mind,” they say sharply, “I’m concentrating.”

��Oh, my apologies.” A smirk works its way onto the villain’s face. “Am I showing too much ankle? Are you wasting away looking at a criminal this beautiful?”

“You got one thing right,” the hero retorts, “criminal.”

They snap forward for a strike. The villain barely sidesteps to avoid them, the hero’s fist bypassing their face and instead burying into their shoulder.

The villain stumbles, their face scrunched up in pain. “Is that why you want me in jail, [Hero] dearest?” They manage a grin, though it's pulled a little tight now. “You want me all to yourself, don’t you?”

The hero shifts to prepare for another attack. The villain does the same. “I want you off the streets.”

The villain’s grin widens. “You still want me all the same.”

The villain darts in for a strike first. The hero pulls away from their swipe too late and feels it burn a crimson line into their chest. A flare of rage engulfs them and they move in for their own swing. The villain ducks under their fist but moves straight into the second one.

The force is enough to send the villain staggering back. The hero pounces on them and shoves them back into a wall, one arm across the criminal’s chest and the other hand carefully pointing their knife away.

“[Hero],” the villain whines, though the smirk is audible in their voice, “I haven’t even given you my safe word yet.”

The hero opts to ignore them. They concentrate on the knife in the other’s grip, carefully tightening their hold on their hand. The villain heaves a heavy breath, trying to resist the force closing in on their fist, but eventually they give under the pressure and drop the knife. It clatters to the floor with a mocking laugh.

“Ooh, such a big strong hero,” the villain whispers softly. “This is the part where you kiss me, I think.”

The hero’s gaze snaps to theirs. The villain’s eyes are scrunched up delightedly, expectant. “This is the part,” the hero whispers back, equally gentle, “where I arrest you.”

The villain rolls their eyes, though one hand is sitting at the inevitable throbbing pain of the hero’s fists. Another loss for the villain, another win for the hero.

“Make sure you come visit me in your dungeon,” the villain says as the hero pulls a pair of cuffs out. “You’re the only one who knows how to treat me right.”

“I’ll see you for your interrogation.”

“Perfect.” The villain sighs dreamily as the hero snaps the cuffs over their wrists. “Then all your little friends can see the tension between us.”

The hero is pretty sure, though, that the only person who can see that tension is the villain.

[redshoes-blues]

Media companies will continue to cannibalize themselves with useless spin-offs of spin-offs and nostalgia bait while they let unique, creative ideas die because they don’t fulfill their profit fantasies.

Do you know how many of my favourite shows I’ve discovered in their second or third seasons through word of mouth? Most of them. It takes time to build fan bases. They don’t just appear overnight. Even in massive success stories like Stranger Things, the first season wasn’t an overnight success. Word of mouth brought in massive viewership, and that sort of organic growth just won’t happen in the limited amount of time these companies are giving shows.

There are so many more shows that I hear about that I’d probably like and give a watch—My Lady Jane, which was cancelled the day after I started watching it, comes to mind—but it feels completely useless to get invested in things anymore when these corporations are cancelling shows left and right because they aren’t the next fucking Mandalorian or Game of Thrones or Bridgerton.

[the-broken-pen]

“I’ve never used a gun before,” the hero swallowed, mouth dry. They had never needed to, but now—

The villain’s head lolled over to look at them. A lazy grin spread across their face.

“Don’t worry,” they held the hero’s gaze, unflinching. “I have.”

The gun went off. Across the room, one of their enemies dropped, blood splattering against the wall.

Still, the villain didn’t break eye contact, content to shoot without looking. They hit their target every time, but still—

“Can you please look where you’re pointing that thing?”

“Why,” the villain tipped their head, and that shit eating grin was back, “Am I making you nervous, hero?”

The hero grimaced as the villain sent another target sprawling onto the floor. Surely they had to run out of ammo eventually?

When the hero didn’t respond, the villain laughed.

“Oh, I am. Well, that’s adorable, frankly.”

The hero flinched at the next gunshot, and the villain nodded their head towards the hero’s gun. “If you were to—and bear with me this is a crazy idea—help me, this would be over with way faster.”

The hero looked down to their gun, shifting it side to side in their hands. It didn’t look all that hard. Point, aim, shoot. They could do that, right?

They lifted their gun, aiming at the nearest combatant—

The villain slid to a stop next to them, tsking, and their hand settled onto the hero’s gun too quickly for them to see. “Not-no not quite like that,” they hummed in the hero’s ear, and though they couldn’t see their face, the hero knew they were amused. 

The hero’s jaw clenched with irritation.

“First,” the villain murmured, far too close, “Safety needs to be off.” They clicked something on the hero’s gun, repositioning the hero’s hands as they did. “Second,” they continued, and the hero shivered. “Don’t aim at me, love. You like me too much to kill me.”

“You’re awfully sure about that.”

The villain half rested their chin on the hero’s shoulder, batting their eyes. Their free arm jerked up, firing a shot behind them at someone who had evidently gotten too close to the two of them.

“I am,” they grinned. Their hand rested over the hero’s once more. “Now, aim,” they guided the hero’s hand towards the nearest enemy. Their finger slipped over the hero’s on the trigger. “And shoot.” They pulled down on the trigger, trapping the hero’s finger underneath theirs, so when the gun fired, they fired it together. The hero winced.

It was louder than the hero had thought it would be.

Across the room, the body dropped.

“Good,” the villain praised, voice low, and something stirred in the hero’s chest. “Again, love.”

They guided the hero through the motions once more.

By the time there was no one left to fight, the villain was staring at them with a look they couldn’t decipher. It was all encompassing. Hungry. Wild.

The hero cleared their throat, and the villain smirked like they knew what the hero was doing.

They eyed the hero, still with that look on their face.

“God, you’re pretty with a gun in your hand,” the villain cursed. They stepped closer. The hero didn’t move, holding their breath as the villain wiped a splattering of blood off their face. “Pretty covered in blood, too, but that might be a bit too insane for you, hm?”

The hero’s face went hot. It wasn’t, they thought. They wanted to kiss the villain so badly they worried it might be a sickness, twisting their mind, something terminal. But still, that smile—

The villain stepped away. They scanned the hero’s blushing face, and grinned harder at whatever they saw.

Gently, they took the gun from the hero’s hands, vanishing it behind their back.

“The next time you need someone to show you how to shoot, give me a call,” they nodded towards the hero’s hands. “I wouldn’t want someone else touching my hero, now would I?”

The hero couldn’t stop the smile that spread across their face.

The villain winked, stepped back, and was gone.

My hero.

Oh, the hero was well and truly fucked.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

the artblock be hitteth Harder than normal, for tis not normal artblock. woe. Wally be upon ye

[hyperfocusthusly]

You’ll all be super pleased to hear this piece is still kicking me in the shins and stealing my lunch money

Progress || 1 ||

[snarkspawn]

light of kshahrewar ✨

[mllenugget]

Hey remember when Baghera adopted Dapper like 8 months ago or did I make that up ? ────────────────────────────────────────── Support all the admins that spoke out (& do your daily click) ──────────────────────────────────────────

[notjaydair]

PHIGHTING OCS AGGGHHHHH

I made these with my friends lalalala i love them so much!!! extra fun stuff under the cut!

Interaction page

I asked my non-phighting friend to make silly ideas without trying too hard & then I'd expound on it

these are the base ideas for fuse and cane though they loves the newer ones

and credits to my best friend for inspo on lance!

i looove my friends so much i was a brain rotting mess before they gave me these ideas!!!

and these are the original concept er pages! yeah! if you read this thank yew please talk to me about them before i chew them like chewing gum

[imogenkol]

— WIP THURSDAY

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @a-treides @rhettsabbott @loriane-elmuerto @neonshrike @g0dspeeed thank you!! 💕💕💕

Imogen is slowly but surely understanding the human experience….I think

Imogen studied the mourners with mild distaste. Their public grief feebly attempted to invade her mind like a small pestering insect might assault her personal space, but Imogen was well practiced when it came to batting away emotions that were beneath her. Especially vulnerable emotions she had little to no experience with herself. Any inconsequential amount grief Imogen might have felt was complicated enough that she couldn’t quite call it grief — not when it was her own hand that struck down the one who raised her — when the absence of Rejna brought more relief than it did pain.

These people almost exclusively felt pain. Pain and confusion and anger.

Imogen tilted her head ever so slightly as a curious frown knitted her brows together. After a moment of contemplation, she supposed she could understand why on some level. Their loved ones bid them goodbye only to seemingly be wiped from existence altogether. The surviving rebels could not even return any remains to those that mourned such sudden loss. There were too many questions never to be answered. Too many last requests never to be fulfilled. Nothing but the fickle beast of memory would keep them alive, yet fade away in less than a lifetime, too.

A fleeting dark whisper broke through the previously impenetrable wall in her mind. One that told her she could very well be in their position — that one of these days, she could say goodbye to Bix and simply never see her ever again. That there could be absolutely nothing left of her.

Imogen swallowed the lump of dread that suddenly formed in her throat and tore her gaze away.

“If you ever leave me like that, I’ll never fucking forgive you,” Bix said quietly beside her.

The mechanic’s words burned with the intensity of a very real threat. Realistically, Imogen had nothing to fret over when it came to that. She did not foresee herself becoming bested by this war, and even if that were to be her fate, she would certainly not be present for the consequences of Bix’s promise.

And yet, the idea twisted her insides anyway. As if a part of her knew her spirit would never rest easy without the forgiveness of her beloved.

“It’s seems to be in my best interests not to fail you, then,” Imogen replied casually, extending her hand just enough to brush the backs of fingers against Bix’s hand in reassurance.

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @tommyarashikage @simonxriley @voidika @voidbuggg @inafieldofdaisies @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @shellibisshe @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @strangefable @kanos @cptcassian @e-the-village-cryptid @greenecreek

[raineandsky]

Hello, I was wondering if you could please write something where Villain thinks they are under a love potion slipped by hero’s allies. After every moment they see hero they feel they are in love with them. But when they confront the teammate they find, to their surprise that they gave them a ‘speak your heart’ potion to get them to confess their crimes and never expected them to have feelings for their friend. Coming to the shock and realization that they had indeed fallen for hero but had been ignoring it/suppressing it. Now they are at the point where they can deny it no longer. Thank you for your consideration and for reading this! I hope you have an absolutely lovely day! 💕

this was.... such a cute idea??? i liked writing this one, i hope you enjoy reading!! thank you as always for the request!!

Heroes are liars. The villain knows this well. They’ll lie, cheat and bribe their way into anything that might mean another villain in jail, another victory under their belt.

There are telltale signs of lying, of course. Looking away, shifting about, smiling awkwardly. The villain has learnt all of these, because they know that heroes are liars, but also tend to be bad liars.

This hero, from the villain’s deduction, is either an incredibly good liar or telling the truth. God, the villain wants it to be the former.

“Love potion turns blue,” this hero is saying. “When I poured the heart-speaker in your drink it went orange.”

The hero’s looking right at them, stock still, face blank except for what seems a little like horror. Liar, surely. He’s just a damn good one. “Bullshit. You’re— You’re fucking with my head.”

“I’m not doing anything!” the hero cries. “I’ve been following you around with a recorder because I was hoping you’d admit to your crimes! I wasn’t expecting any of this.”

The villain turns away from them—a mistake most villains know not to make, not that the villain particularly cares right now—and heaves a deep sigh. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Does it?

The villain is no stranger to love potions and their effects. How they noticeably warp their victim’s perception of reality, of who they can trust. The villain, subject to one such potion for one of the supervillain’s strange experiments, noticed that everything felt different, that their feelings on certain people had inexplicably changed. The effects also wore off after a day.

The villain’s been feeling like this for a week. Loose, almost detached, like honesty is the best policy even though their colleagues would scream for them to stop talking.

They’ve seen their hero more than once this past week. Carefully stamped-down, begrudging respect has blown up into desperate infatuation. Their hero says some well-practised lines about taking them down, the villain stutters out some of their own about never being caught, and then they fight, the physicality of it entirely overwhelming sometimes.

That’s more than a simple love potion has ever done to the villain.

Their hero is— how long has the villain been calling them that? That hero isn’t the villain’s anything except their nemesis. They need to get out of their own head before the heart-speaker drowns them in their own emotions.

“How… how long does it last?” the villain asks faintly.

“Well,” the hero says, “at least a week.”

“Oh my god. You don’t even know.” The villain scoffs in offence. “Jesus, I— I can’t see [Hero] again like this.”

“You’re freaking out, [Villain],” the hero butts in carefully. “You’re recognising your own feelings for the first time. It’s a lot. I get it.”

The hero doesn’t get it. The villain feels like the world’s about to end. “What the hell am I meant to do?”

“You could tell them.”

“Are you insane? No!” The villain wrings their hands, pacing thoughtlessly. “No, this isn’t right. The heart-speaker will wear off and everything will go back to normal. It’s fine.”

“I mean…” The hero glances down at the little audio recorder in their hand. It looks ancient, as most hardware does that comes from the agency. “I still have a ton of free space on this thing.”

“I’m not saying it out loud and I’m certainly not letting you record it.”

The hero shrugs, the lightest smirk weaving its way onto their stupid face. “I didn’t think you would. I do have some heart-speaker left. Enough for… someone else.”

On any normal day, the villain wouldn’t care too much about knowing what their hero thinks of them. But this day isn’t normal, and with this goddamn potion working its magic on them, the villain is painfully, embarrassingly desperate to know every little detail of their hero’s thoughts.

The villain squints at the hero to make it clear they’re not agreeing to this immediately, although their body language probably suggests otherwise. “Okay, well, it’s not your worst idea.”

The hero nods sagely. “I think I know which idea of mine you think is the worst. I’ll make sure this one isn’t to your detriment, though—it’ll be fun working with you, partner.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why, saving it for someone else?”

The villain wants to snap back at them for the tease as the hero laughs, but they can’t deny what the heart-speaker is forcing them to admit.

Yes.