biterflies

[biterflies]

lost to the first boss of the video game so im resetting the save file 👍

dont be a rage gamer, if the game makes you too mad then fuck em. try again with a new life.

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[biterflies]

In writing, epithets ("the taller man"/"the blonde"/etc) are inherently dehumanizing, in that they remove a character's name and identity, and instead focus on this other quality.

Which can be an extremely effective device within narration!

They can work very well for characters whose names the narrator doesn't know yet (especially to differentiate between two or more). How specific the epithet is can signal to the reader how important the character is going to be later on, and whether they should dedicate bandwidth to remembering them for later ("the bearded man" is much less likely to show up again than "the man with the angel tattoo")

They can indicate when characters stop being as an individual and instead embody their Role, like a detective choosing to think of their lover simply as The Thief when arresting them, or a royal character being referred to as The Queen when she's acting on behalf of the state

They can reveal the narrator's biases by repeatedly drawing attention to a particular quality that singles them out in the narrator's mind

But these only work if the epithet used is how the narrator primarily identifies that character. Which is why it's so jarring to see a lot of common epithets in intimate moments-- because it conveys that the main character is primarily thinking of their lover/best friend/etc in terms of their height or age or hair color.

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First thing you see after you zoom in is how you die

How you dying 👀

#arranged marriage #... my spouse is gonna kill my for the insurance payout or SOMETHING

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“Where would be the fun in telling you the whole story?” the villain asked. They leaned forward in their chair, handcuffs rattling. “C’mon, you’re clever. Surprise me.”

“I know you’ve murdered a supervillain. An incredibly powerful non-human being. Someone, well, something I’ve been chasing after for years.” The hero crossed their arms in front of their chest. Was it really that easy? An entire threat being reduced to nothing because of the villain? “People might start calling you a hero.”

“A hero? Would that make me your what? Partner?”

“Well, right now you’re under investigation for murder. Even if it’s a supervillain, it’s still a crime.” The hero couldn’t wrap their head around why the villain would kill an ally that easily. It wasn’t like the villain was a particularly active one. More or less, they were like a puppet master, controlling other people from behind the scenes. That was dangerous enough in itself but the villain being active, being a threat instead of controlling the threads was even more worrying.

“You are the one who questioned the supervillain’s humanity just now. They’re something, not someone,” the villain pointed out.

That was foul. Using the hero’s words against them wasn’t new but both of them were fully aware of the contradiction here — was it wrong to kill a bad person? And was it right to get convicted for that?

“Is that a confession?”

The villain cocked their head, smirking even.

“You tell me. Is that enough to lock me up?”

“The evidence speaks for itself.”

“You’re drawing conclusions based on assumptions,” the villain argued. “And after all, they were a friend of mine. Why on earth should I kill someone who’s my friend?”

Indeed, the motive was the only inexplicable part in all of this.

“We have found samples of your DNA at the crime scene.”

“The victim and I used to meet there quite often to discuss work. You can ask my employees, I have a perfect record of my whereabouts for the last few months.” They looked the hero up and down, as if this was a date instead of an interrogation. They smiled when the hero’s eyes met theirs.

“You have bruises on your arms,” the hero pointed out. “The…victim was struggling before they died. There was quite the fight.”

Suddenly, the villain didn’t look as amused as before.

“You have bruises on your arms as well,” they said.

The hero blushed.

Unfortunately, a week ago the hero had actually attempted to take down the supervillain. They’d been beaten to a horrific degree and only thanks to modern medicine, they were walking and breathing.

Two days ago, some of the supervillain’s henchmen had “visited” the hero to make sure they’d gotten the message. They were still limping, refusing to go back to their medic again.

“My bruises are from practice. You can ask my martial arts teacher, I was with him yesterday.” They eyed the hero’s bruises, so the hero pushed down their sleeves.

The hero sighed.

“I’m sure all your ‘employees’ and your ‘martial arts teacher’ are in on this?” The hero closed their eyes, letting their hand go over their face a couple of times. “I know it was you. But…why? I’m a good detective. I will get more evidence. And I will most certainly figure out why you did it.”

The villain stared at them, their interest focused on the index finger the hero was holding up. They looked up at the hero eventually.

“Don’t break your pretty little head thinking too much about it, hm?”

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mmm heroo whump i loooove heero whump mmmm baby i missed you mm

“Oh, no.” The supervillain shook their head and sighed dramatically. “A speedster with a broken leg? Gosh, that’s too bad.”

The villain didn’t want to look at the hero crawling over the floor. Their sobs and pleas were bad enough already but the blood? The bone digging through their flesh? That was indescribable.

“Is this necessary?” the villain asked. They kept their voice apathetic, even though they knew their hand would be shaking if they lifted it. The hero’s broken voice filled the lifeless interrogation room, just like the blood covering the floor. “All this mess for an interrogation? You’re wasting precious resources.”

In response the supervillain laughed. In one hand, they still held the pipe and spun it around as their gaze wandered between it and the hero. It was a trophy to them. They cared little for subtleness. The bloodier, the better but they didn’t seem to realise how much time they were wasting.

“You know, with your legs all broken you’re just another human. Nothing really special,” they said to the hero as they leaned over. The supervillain tilted their head. Right when the hero wanted to push their upper body up, the supervillain rammed their boot into their back.

They slammed into the concrete. Face first. They left a bloody handprint on the supervillain’s pants.

And the villain clenched their teeth.

By now the hero was quieter. It wasn’t that they had given up — they’d probably still attack anyone if there was a bullet in their chest — but their energy was fading and their muscles were failing. The villain had never seen them like this.

“It’s a dead end. They won’t give you any information,” the villain said and they hated the hero for that. Truly, deeply loathed that the hero endured torture for hours and even when their bones broke, they didn’t say a word to save themselves.

What kind of sick loyalty was that? What kind of unquestioned obedience? The villain was nearly jealous of that.

“You’re so pessimistic today…we just have to get a little creative, don’t you think?” the supervillain asked. “What if we make them run with their broken leg and if they stop, we kill them?”

“You think that’s creative?” The villain focused on the supervillain instead of the hero who tried to push themselves up again with their trembling arms. Their grunts and moans sounded more like those of an animal. And that wound…the villain could see their tibia.

Yet, the villain pinched the bridge of their nose and squeezed their eyes shut, surprised by their partner’s idiocy.

“Well, it could be entertaining.”

“They can’t even stand up. What makes you think they could run for your entertainment?” the villain asked.

“I dunno. I like experimenting.” The villain sighed.

If they wanted to save the hero, they needed to do it in private. Convincing the hero to give up their secrets wasn’t going to be easy but the villain had information the supervillain could never know about.

“Great. It was your turn and it didn’t work out. Now it’s mine. Give me 20 minutes with them and you’ll have your oh so desired information,” the villain said.

The supervillain studied them.

“You know what? You’re right. They’re your nemesis. Why should I get involved anyway? God forbid I do a friend a favour.”

“Look, I—” the villain looked at the hero’s tears “—appreciate your efforts. But I fear they’re quite stubborn. They won’t give you what they want, even if you take them apart bit by bit.”

For ten very, very long seconds, the supervillain stared at them.

“Is this a possessive thing?” they asked. They had the audacity not to whisper.

But the villain was willing to push them.

“It is a I-know-your-spouse-shouldn’t-know-you’re-a-criminal-thing,” they said. All the villain needed to see was some time with the hero, even if that meant they’d threaten the supervillain.

They didn’t care what their partner thought about this. Or what kind of rumours they wanted to spread. The villain had enough dirt on enough people to bring a quick end to such accidents.

“Oh, stooping to a new low?”

“Forgive me,” the villain said. They stood up. “I’m sure you understand. They’re my nemesis and you’re robbing me of all the fun. I have to draw some lines here.”

“Fine.” The supervillain didn’t look necessarily happy when the villain cornered them until the last escape was through the door.

“Search for something else to play with, will you?” the villain asked. They opened the door of the interrogation room and offered their partner the way out.

Without a second glance, the supervillain mumbled incoherent curses on their way out until the villain shut the door behind them.

However, as soon as they left, the villain walked over to their nemesis and kneeled.

“Hey, come here.” They grabbed them and pulled them onto their lap. The hero kept looking at their leg and whimpered. Fingers drenched in blood found the villain’s jawline and cheekbones and left fingerprints there.

The villain’s heart was beating fast. Usually, they were able to control themselves in stressful situations but the hero desperately clinging onto them startled them.

“I’m sorry,” the villain whispered. “They won’t let go of you. They’ll kill you if you don’t give them anything.”

The hero shook their head and hid their face in the villain’s clothes. They seemed to know how this was turning out.

“Please,” the hero begged. “Please, it hurts so much, it hurts…”

The villain wiped some loose strands of hair out of the hero’s face.

“They want information on your latest mission. You have to give them something. After that, I can protect you,” the villain promised. They could feel how the hero held onto them.

“I can’t, please, please—”

“Sweetheart, don’t make me do this.”

“No, please.” Their tears rolled down their cheeks and the villain’s heart splintered.

Blackmail was the villain’s preferred way of fighting. Everyone had their secrets and the villain liked to obtain information like no other.

In a world where information spread in seconds, a well kept secret could be the key to peace and conflict.

But their hands were shaking. Tears burnt in their eyes.

“You know I know your siblings. If…” The villain felt disgusting. They felt filthy, wretched even. Despising themselves was new and this feeling was alien to them. It hurt, it burnt. But even if the hero never forgave them for it, this would save them. “…if you don’t tell them, I will kill one of them.”

“No, I trusted you, they love you.”

“I’m sorry,” the villain said. They kissed the hero’s temple. “This is the only way, I fear.”

After that, they developed a distaste for blackmail.

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#113

tw: kidnapping

“Um,” the villain says as he flicks the living room light on. “What are you doing in my house?”

The hero scowls. “Well, it’s not like I tied myself up and put a bow on my own head, is it?”

And in one of the villain’s own dining room chairs, no less. Couldn’t he at least bring his own? “I don’t know,” the villain says slowly, to the hero’s offence, “you might have.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I don’t know! Tell me what you’re doing in my house!”

“I don’t know either!”

“There is an alarming lack of information here, [Hero].” The villain steps forward to study the knot in the ropes on the hero’s wrists—just a plain, normal knot. Nothing extravagant, nothing telling. “How do you not know?”

“Well, unfortunately, [Villain], I have spent most of this experience unconscious,” the hero snaps a little harsher than necessary. “I woke up, like, five minutes before you got here.”

The villain tuts, moving his interest onto the comically large bow on the hero’s head. This would’ve been a perfect chance to laugh at him if it wasn’t somehow happening inside the villain’s house.

The villain’s just about to hit the hero with a barrage of questions—with the inevitable “I don’t know”, of course—when answers present themselves in the form of the supervillain.

“Ah, you’re home,” they say brightly. A pair of stout glasses are in their hands, generously topped up with what is undoubtedly whiskey. “How do you like your gift?”

The villain throws a glance at the hero. He looks as lost as the villain feels. “My gift?”

“You’ve been working hard recently, [Villain].” They offer him a glass and he takes it without question. “I thought I could at least acknowledge the positive impact you've had on our little business. On me.”

The hero scoffs but they both ignore him. “What…” The question’s going to sound insane, but this situation is insane enough to warrant it, the villain thinks. “What am I meant to do with a… person?”

The supervillain hums thoughtfully, casting a glance about the room. “Well, I was looking around your place and thought you could use a maid.” They laugh at the scrunch of offence in the villain’s face. “Oh, I’m kidding, [Villain]. Maybe they could be target practice, a pet, a plaything.” A sip from their glass. “Anything your mind can conjure.”

The villain tries to look at the hero like he’s thinking on it. The hero watches him back like he’s trying to read his mind.

The supervillain takes another swig of their drink. The villain copies them before they can notice that he’s avoiding it like it’s poison. It sure tastes like it; it burns the whole way down.

“Any ideas?”

The villain taps the glass to his chin with a tut. “A dog would be nice.” The supervillain snorts a laugh, and the hero’s desperate expression turns flat with horror. “I’m sure I can find a nice collar for him.”

“A shock collar, I hope,” the supervillain suggests with a grin. “Oh, I’m so glad you like it, [Villain]. You deserved a little something for everything you’ve done for me.”

This is more than a little something, but the villain doesn’t bother correcting them. “I love it. Thank you.”

“No darling.” A smile; soft, affectionate. “Thank you.”

The supervillain gives him a pat and sets their glass down on the coffee table. “I have business to attend to. I just wanted to see your reaction.” They make for the door, though the villain’s not convinced that’s how they got in. “I’ll see you tomorrow—keep me updated on how you train them.” And with a wink and one last smirk, they disappear outside and off into the evening.

The hero’s gaze snaps to the villain the moment they’re gone. “A dog?” he demands.

The villain carefully unties the bow on his head, collecting the ribbon in a giant red bundle in his arms. “Yeah,” he says brightly. “Are you going to bolt if I untie you?”

“You called me a dog. I’ll goddamn make like one the moment that door’s open.”

The villain shrugs nonchalantly. “Binds stay on, then.”

“Wait, no—” The hero’s voice is bordering on a cry. The villain doesn’t hate the sound of it. “No, sorry, I just— you want me to be your dog.”

“I do.” The villain smiles innocently. “My guard dog.”

That gives the hero long enough pause for the villain to take his knife to some of the rope. “… Guard dog.”

“You’ll be my bodyguard.” The first wisps break free under his blade. “You’ll work for me, cover my back, whatever I need you to do.”

“You want me to… defend you?”

The villain can’t help but smirk. The ropes split, freeing the hero’s hands. “If you don’t like it, [Supervillain] had plenty of good ideas.”

“No!” It comes out faster than the hero seems to have thought it. “No, I– I can do that.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” The villain sighs contentedly, giving him a mocking pat on the head as he gets back to his feet. “Good boy.”

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reincarnation au where some people keep falling into old habits is so funny because let them kiss each other's hands or mouth. Everyone still stops talking when the king walks into the room. Some knights are very excited about color-theming with their old heralds and there are way more shades of color now so they can make their outfits more or less ugly depending on preference. Old lovers who meet after 1500 years of separation and the knight drops to his knees in the middle of home depot

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lol so i have no self control and decided to do what i said would in the tags on this post. namely these ones

sooooo heres a sneak peak of the sketchhhhhhhhhhhhh <3

you can see where i drew over the actual scene lol. anyway does his face look like he is in pain? and large amounts of it? i want it to be excruciating. and is the hair too much? i was going for a "aged ten years in an instant" vibe and i figured unkempt longer hair would show it well but. idk i picture him with it more short so im kinda iffy. and he just kinda looks like odysseus from epic the musical to me :/

bruhhhhh i played dnd yesterday and we had this puzzle where we had to pull cards from the deck of many things to open a door and we needed a specific type of card (i think it went off of like hearts diamonds spades etc) and we kept pulling the wrong type of cards so we kept pulling. and my beloved, dumb, magic wary percy got a plus two to strength (22 strength!!), some white feathery glowing WINGS with a flying speed and all, and he aged ten years from this experiance. literally. a card made him AGE UP TEN YEARS. the dm said these dont take effect until after we complete the dungeon though. so he just DOESNT KNOW WHATS GOING TO HAPPEN TO HIM. goodbye human fighter percival hello bird boy percival ig.

#art #my dnd characters

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bruhhhhh i played dnd yesterday and we had this puzzle where we had to pull cards from the deck of many things to open a door and we needed a specific type of card (i think it went off of like hearts diamonds spades etc) and we kept pulling the wrong type of cards so we kept pulling. and my beloved, dumb, magic wary percy got a plus two to strength (22 strength!!), some white feathery glowing WINGS with a flying speed and all, and he aged ten years from this experiance. literally. a card made him AGE UP TEN YEARS. the dm said these dont take effect until after we complete the dungeon though. so he just DOESNT KNOW WHATS GOING TO HAPPEN TO HIM. goodbye human fighter percival hello bird boy percival ig.

#technically they are celestial wings #which is really funny because percy isnt religious #yknow the gods disappearing for a few hundred years has that effect on belief #my dnd characters #new mental image of percy with feathers all over. like that girl from dungeon meshi my mutuals keep putting on my dash. #just ripping off his shirt. #god i need to do a redraw of that with him

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"I get mean when I'm nervous like a bad dog"

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"It must hurt her feelings."

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sometimes my friends send me good reels

(op)

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spiderman. opinions on rhode island

your mom rhode my island last night

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why do black people use you in the wrong context? such is "you ugly" instead of "you're ugly" I know u guys can differentiate, it's a nuisance

you a bitch

[biterflies]

Just a reminder for people who may not know, in light of protestors at UCLA being shot in the face with rubber bullets— rubber bullets are not bullets made of rubber. They are metal bullets encased in rubber.

Despite being called “non-lethal” or sometimes “less lethal”, they are well known to cause death and permanent disability.

Here’s a photo showing their size— these are actual rubber bullets used during the Black Lives Matter protests in 2020.

Do not let them downplay the severity of what they are subjecting this students to for standing against genocide. Stay safe and stay educated.