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at this point I don’t even argue about the misogyny anymore. They just expose themselves.

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Vivziepop coded

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You know what, fuck it. Let’s show some love for the “unpleasant” autistics.

For the autistics who are always accused of being angry or moody when all they’re doing is sitting there.

For the autistics who take everything literally and respond sincerely.

For the autistics who come across as “blunt” or “rude” for being honest.

For the autistics who are called “control freaks” for needing a sense of order and routine.

For the autistics who get told to shut up for infodumping about uncomfortable topics.

For the autistics who find it too exhausting to mask and pretend to be sunny and friendly.

“Unpleasant” autistics, I love you.

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Don't judge Ragatha

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I want to learn how to draw a more traditional Warlock some day, but the design from Inferno is definitely a good stepping stone (and very cool looking)

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❀ In which husband!Nanami makes a big decision after your labour Tw: hard labour, difficult pregnancy, allusions to death, angst, not proofread

“Are you sure about this?” The doctor asks again.

Kento leans back in his chair, staring straight ahead at the older man before him. He notes, with a little humour, how concerned his doctor looks at the prospect of a younger, more virile man like him undergoing such an operation. There seems to be some stigma surrounding the quick and low-risk operation, almost as if the idea of any man willingly sacrificing an essential part of their identity, their manhood, is so abhorrent one must check again and again if they are certain this is what they want. 

And he is. 

If asked, and he’s sure when he discloses his decision to friends and family, they will ask, he’ll tell them it is the easiest choice he has ever made — second only, of course, to his decision to marry you. 

No matter how many times the doctor reminds him that contraceptives are satisfactory, that abortion is available up to twenty-two weeks gestation, and he might come to regret this later when the pain settles in, Nanami Kento will not change his mind. Not even when you, his beautiful wife, argued, pleaded, with him. 

You resented the thought of not being able to give him the big family he’s always dreamed of, but how could he possibly tell you, through your tears and the quiet suckling of the nursing baby in your arms, that you’ve already given him everything he could ever want?

That it isn’t a big family he wants but rather, simply, a family with you. 

Years of giving you everything you’ve ever wanted makes this one act extremely uncomfortable; defying you goes against his nature, after all. But he sees no other way to go about this. Perhaps it's just better to ask for forgiveness than approval on select occasions.

The pregnancy had been hard. The labour even harder. Lasting longer than twenty hours, the nurses and doctors rushed around, beelining in and out of your room with all sorts of expressions on their faces, ranging from professional sternness to mild worry to pure panic, all reflecting the emotions he wore on his own face as he waited outside. 

At first, things went smoothly — the overnight bag was ready by the door, your contractions were consistent and you were both able to get ahead of your water breakage. He was by your side throughout it all, holding your hand, brushing your hair back, going through breathing exercises, and giving you encouragements. 

You were anxious but excited, rattling off baby names as back-up plans in case the baby was 'giving off a different vibe,' worrying about the crib you both picked out, the colour of her room, and trying to remember every single advice you heard from your experienced friends. “What was it babies can’t have until much later? Ugh, I can’t remember now. It was something I really like and was super bummed I can’t let her taste until like centuries later. “

“Honey?”

“Yes, dear?” You grinned at him.

His lips twitched.

“That’s all I get? I thought that was hilarious.”

He wiped the sweat off your forehead. “It was very funny, my love. I hope our baby gets your sense of humour. She’ll make for a successful clown.”

The eye roll you gave him, for one happy moment, convinced him that this labour was going to be just as they said.

There was nothing to be concerned about. Your tests were clean, there’s no history of complications, you followed the recommended diet and have been diligent with the vitamins. It was just going to be your standard birth and they have years of experience.

You’re in safe hands.

So why were you straining for so long?

Why were you screaming through gritted teeth, threatening to break every bone in his hand?

Why was he growing dizzy at the sight of your shaking body?

“Just breathe, sweetheart, alright? Breathe for me.”

You tried. You tried so hard. “Yes, y-yes, I am. Oh, fuck, Kento, it hurts. It really hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” Mouth dry, face flushed, and voice broken, he could only mutter empty promises. A true failure of a husband, unable to do a single thing to alleviate your pain. “Hang in there, please. They’ll sort it out. It’s all going to be fine.”

The nurses began whispering among themselves, too hushed and hurried for him to understand. "Is everything alright? What's happening?"

More people came in, crowding the bed and pushing him away. He tried to tell them you needed him by your side, that you needed something to hold, someone to keep your hair out of your face. He was being escorted out, wordlessly.

"Ken? Wait, don't leave. I'm scared." Your hand was outstretched and he fought, against better judgement, to hold it just for a second to soothe your worries. They didn't let him.

"It's okay, sweetheart. T-they're going to take care of you."

Hours flew by. He paced the floor, and answered all the messages and calls he received from worried loved ones with responses he didn’t really believe in but knew he had to: ‘she’ll be fine,’ ‘she’s in good hands,’ and ‘it’s probably nothing.’

Sitting on a cold, hard bench, in a large waiting room with people he could only hope weren't in the same position as him, Kento couldn't sleep. Instead, he listened to the incessant ticking of the clock, the dull thrumming of the TV in the corner, and the monotone voices of nurses talking among themselves.

He wasn’t in the room when your baby was finally out, missing out on her first cry, on watching that instant connection you talk about form, on being able to thank you.

They only beckoned him in with relieved smiles some time later. Finally, he could see you, could hold you, tell you how amazing you are. And he did. He held the baby too, small, beautiful, unable to even open her eyes, but had a great set of lungs on her, just like her mother. 

“Oh, sweetheart. She looks just like you,” he breathed out. 

You didn��t reply, couldn’t look at him, couldn’t smile. You simply held his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze. The feeling of your cold, clammy hand weak and quivering like you were holding onto a thin rope just so you could say goodbye will forever haunt him.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong, love?" He turned to the nurses, tried to meet their eyes. "What's happening to my wife?"

The events after that were hectic and Kento, try as he might, couldn’t piece together what happened. Rapid beating and beeping, sudden shouts, baby taken away, and he was pushed out of the room. The last glimpse he had of his wife, the last glimpse he thought he would have forever, was of her spasming on the bed, surrounded by strangers in masks and stained robes. 

Alone.

Terrified.

Failed by her husband. 

Never again, Kento swore. Never again will he put you through that, the pain, the suffering, the fear. He’ll never drive you to the edge of life and allow you to teeter on your own. If it’ll be anyone, it’ll be him. It has to be.

You survived this time and he’ll do everything in his power to make sure there isn’t a next time — he’s not sure he could step up and be the father your baby needs without you.

His hand still shakes.

In his sleep, at his absolute worst, he hears your screams, holds your limp body, and grieves your presence. He's ashamed to admit he couldn't pick his baby up for days after, that he had let dark circles grow, allowed darker thoughts to permeate his mind, consuming him.

How could he possibly look in his little girl's eyes and know she almost lost her mother? That in a split second, everything you two built together could have burned down in front of him? That when it mattered most, he was powerless as a man, as a husband, and as a father?

"You've been washing the same plate for five minutes, Ken. I think you need more sleep," you said, hugging him from behind.

He had wandered into his mind again, running on autopilot as he washed the dishes. Clearing his throat, he forced a smoothness into his voice. "Yes, you're probably right."

"Are you still thinking about going to the doctors?"

"Yes."

You sighed. "I'll be okay, Kento. You don't need to do that. We're going to be fine. Let's just live as we always did and let the universe take us where we need to."

Wet hands clutched your dry ones. There was a firmness to them, unyielding and tight. When he spoke, his tone commanded attention, rendering you as silent as the baby sleeping in her crib. He didn't turn around, likely couldn't, for he knew if he did, his resolve might just crumble.

"I won't leave your life in the hands of anyone else. I refuse. Your life holds more value to me than my own and I will not spend it so carelessly, leaving it in the hands of the universe or God or whomever else. I can't see you go through...that again. I can't. I w-wouldn't survive it. And I know you want more children because you think that's what I want, but sweetheart, I need you. I need you. You may never understand what I mean and that's alright. The life we have is good. It's perfect. I can't risk it. I won't. So, I'm sorry but I don't think there's anything you can say to change my mind."

Pressing a kiss in between his shoulder blades, you said, "I know."

Unending, your patience is commendable — you don't grouch when he wakes you up in the middle of the night just to make sure you’re still breathing or get irritated when he insists on carrying the heavy lifting around the house.

He took off more time out of work, desiring nothing more than staying at home so he can keep you fed, can take care of the baby whilst you catch up on sleep, and help you shower on unsteady legs.

Every moment, every kiss on his knuckles, every brush of your hand on his cheek, every admission of love bears a thousand times more weight now. The persistent crying in the middle of the night, the mess, the diaper-changes, the vomit on his clothes don't frustrate him; they're a mark of what you and him had fought so hard for.

This is the family he’s always wanted. The family he must protect. 

And damn it all if he lets it, you, slip away. 

So, he says, calmly and with the most certainty anyone can muster, “Yes, I’m sure.”

Jello! Had some time to make this since my exam was pushed later. Sorry for yet another angsty piece, I just couldn't get the idea out of my head. It's very rushed, as I'm sure you can tell. I think I'm a little out of practice cause it's been almost a week since I last wrote something

Well anyways, this is just a snack to keep you guys fed whilst you wait for me on the other side

Blessing and good tidings y'all

[airserpent]

My dad saw me cry from his yelling for decades and it wasn’t until my therapist talked to him that he finally tried to not do it.

He got better at it recently but the damage is still there. My mom still tries to take the brunt of his verbal abuse for me. Then she gets mad at me for it, which I can’t blame her for, and we try to avoid provoking him in general.

But he brings money to the table so he’s king.

Just so you know, a normal response to a child breaking something is to first check to see if they got hurt and then if they’re old enough make them help clean it up. And then afterwards explaining to them how to avoid doing that in the future. At no point is yelling necessary to make them understand why they shouldn’t do that.

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lover’s desire.

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hecate

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happy lesbians

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Bro I have prime and I still watched it pirated 😂😂 making me wait per ep after all these years, all the merch sales? Fuck off. She better have saved up cash from all those round after round of merchandise.

Let's be real, the new Helluva Boss episodes that will come out on Amazon will be pirated anyway. No one wants to wait for them release on Youtube, much less willingly give money to Amazon.

Fuck Amazon by the way.

Spindlehorse had to be running out of money if they would not finish season three's 15 episodes without Amazon backing them up.

The only people who are going to watch the episodes on Prime then on YouTube is going to be the diehard fans. The views are probably going to go down more maybe around 10-15 million range. I do not watch Helluva reactions, but I wonder if reaction Youtubers are still going to react to it or will stop due to fear of being copyright strike.

The casual audience is no longer there and the under 17 fans are probably not going to stick around or start feel left out unless they live in a household that has Prime.

This decision might have an effect on fandom interactions with until the episode is uploaded to YouTube. If you are a non-Prime fan, no more watching fan edits, liking art, reading fan fics, and etc because spoiler tags are only used for a short amount of time.

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Rewriting the “I like tormenting you” scene because…yeah 🦢 💔🦉

Stolas, long angsty song number: In his gilded…jail….

Stella: The fuck are you doing?

Stolas: Reflecting.

Stella: Well stop it. It’s annoying to hear you screeching your angsty woes at all hours of the night.

Stolas: Why are you still here? You leave with Via on the weekends but you still hang around my house. Why?

Stella, enraged: What, “hang around”? Do you think I just like tormenting you or something? I am your WIFE. You decide to go cheating and Im the one who’s out of a home because of it? How dare you. Your palace has been my home for nineteen years, MY jail. You own the fucking place but never show an ounce of gratitude. Always pouting, crying, whimpering, embarrassing yourself. You’re supposed to be a prince, a leader.

Stolas: Ive never wanted any of this, I have nothing of my own. I am cursed with-

Stella: Oh enough of the martyr act. Every time you get criticised it’s suddenly “woe is me” You men with your big titles, grand costumes, thinking you’re so deep, so full of pain. You know nothing of pain. I won’t be moved from dollhouse to dollhouse according to your flimsy whims—you utterly spineless man!

Stolas standing his ground: You watch your tone with me, Via isn’t here to see your hysterical outbursts and I’ve had enough of your screeching harpy nonsense—

Stella, holding her hand up and it shakes hovering in the air: MY harpy screeching?? My hysteria?? After what you did??

Stolas, holding his hands up in glee and laughing maliciously: Go on! Strike me! Let everyone see what a mad woman you truly are! I don’t regret anything I’ve done, I loved seeing that shock on your face, that your snivelling friends were were all present to witness my triumph—

Stella, incredulous: Triumph is it? You think I didn’t notice the guards dragging that imp away, and you, drunk. I was so willing to look the other way, then you had to make such a grand scene. And all of that “there wasn’t time for a motel” crap was another of your lies? You are fucking sickening. You don’t even know what’s truth anymore. The least you could have done was sleep with that imp outside of our fucking bed. Instead of forcing us all to endure the racket of that disgusting ‘passionate fornication’ you call it. And yes, I do mean, ALL of us in the palace.

Stolas, confused and cowering: I—I don’t understand. What are you getting at with “endure”?

Stella: The screeching, the moaning, the disgusting fucking snaps and slicing from the arsenal of weapons you used to fornicate for hours. Not even the loudest blast of her shitty plebeian music could have drowned out that racket!! Octavia heard everything! (She screams to herself and throws a vase, shattering it behind them) You fucking embarrassment of a father! (Her voice cracks, she tears up with mascara flowing mirroring his own expression) What have you done?! Look at you in that stupid costume. What was it all for??

Stolas, falling to his knees: No no…no no no…you’re just turning her against me. You’re lying!! You never gave a shit about me or our very much arranged marriage!! I…I got back at you. You never even tried to make it comfortable for us! It was all me! All for that girl!!

Stella: “That girl” has been nothing more than you trying to make yourself feel better about your own father. All you do is try to re-parent YOURSELF through her. Giving her what you wanted, not what SHE needs. To make you feel like you haven’t made a mistake.

Stolas: Shut up!!

Stella: That girl, has been living our lie, your lie, since her birth! And I can’t do it anymore!!

Stolas: Enough!!

Stella: Were it not for my fucking anatomy, I would have filed divorce seconds after her egg fell out of me!! But you just had to have your little fantasy, your happy family. You always resented me for not sharing your talent for acting and faking, well fuck that. I already pretended to want to be yours, and it was never enough. You hated me for not loving you, and now you do the same to me? I’m not an actress and I won’t live a lie. Have your divorce! And you will compensate me for the years I’ve lost to you!! If I have my way stolas, damn you, this palace will be mine. I’m not losing my home again.

Stolas, weeping: No no…I don’t want that…you can’t make me…I don’t want it!! I don’t want that!! You bitch…you never once cared about me…not once…

Stella, is silent for a prolonged moment, face unseeen, she turns and a broken smile is on her face, she speaks in short sentences: I di—No. Thats. That’s right. Fucking…pathetic man…you’ve finally met your match. And I know you’ll pay for it.

(She leaves, they are both deeply broken. Stella has a broken expression, she sees Via in the hallway and gasps, wipes her mascara trails away and puts on her ice queen persona): Via darling. Mummy and Daddy are just…playing a silly game. You know how we are. Don’t stay out in the cold. I’ll…run you a bath. (She reaches out to her)

Via, pain stricken after everything she’s heard, flinches away from her and runs off: I hate you…I hate both of you. Liars! Just two children! I always KNEW this day was coming!!

Stolas, crumpled on the floor, stares into the sky: …It was for love…it was all for love…he’s my…my soulmate…

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As much as I enjoyed the Blitzo hate for ten seconds, I’d put him on suicide watch after all that. Bro was crushed left and right to the point that the person that started it went soft on him.

While I always hate talking to her directly, no Viv. Your show isn’t making a “both are wrong” stance.

Or else stolas wouldn’t be on stage telling Blitzø he sucks, and the trailer wouldn’t have stolas smiling and full of support while Blitzø is insulted left and right and says “I don’t want to be this way”

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OP blowing things out of proportion.

Meanwhile Vivzie’s simps:

Respectfully, also as a victim here of both SA and child grooming…. I feel you are blowing everything out of proportion.

And that's your prerogative. As a victim, you’re more than welcome to find comfort in aspects of this series. I’m not going to sit here and tell fellow victims that disagree with me how they should personally feel regarding source material.

What I will say, however, is that telling victims they’re being ‘dramatic’ and ‘blowing things out of proportion’ is a common silencing tactic. I appreciate your insight, and any others who were victimized and disagree with me, but this reads very much like those in the past who’ve said to pipe down.

Thank you for the ask

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‘Vivzie is also a victim’ then shouldn’t she be more sympathetic? Why is she allowed to be completely disrespectful?

Also, nobody forced her to respond. She could’ve ignored and that would’ve been more respectful than straight up saying ‘that sounds like a you problem’.

Being a victim doesn’t stop you from being a perpetrator. It doesn’t erase responsibility. You don’t have extra privilege to hurt others.

And again, it’s a victim on victim act. So Vivzie isn’t excused even with your flawed logic. Please grow up and look into victims who hurt other victims— it’s very, very common!

OP had every right to write what they did. Everyone fucking does it. Everyone. People have published works doing this.

Saying someone’s traumatic experience is ‘inappropriate’ is childish, immature, and absolutely ignorant. Grow up. Seriously.

Im a critic and I agree you provoked Viv. Critiquing is different from using your personal experiences to hate something with, and I agree Stolas sucks, but what you started doing is inappropriate. Viv is also a victim. She was forcefully kissed by someone. I am also a victim. But you need to know not every victim is your vision of your perfect victim portrayal.

I responded a bit snappily due to her tone and being told to fuck off; our conversation became less heated the moment her tone got kinder. I told her I appreciated her for that, while still fundamentally disagreeing with her portrayal of the topic. I apologize for any rash or cruel things said in haste, but I was (and still am) frustrated with her constant dismissal of victims.

While assault is terrible regardless of its extremities, being forcefully kissed is not on the same level as being coerced into a sexual relationship. Not all victims/survivors have the same experiences and acknowledging that does not rob Vivzie of her victimhood. The truth of the matter is, the woman has never been financially pressured into having sex with someone, and she comes from a rich, privileged background. She does not have the experience of being so poor that she is forced into selling her body to survive.

There is no such thing as a 'perfect victim,' but Stolas is never acknowledged as a rapist or even coercive by the narrative. Instead, the writing expects you to see poor manipulation and rich class coercion as the same crime when it isn't. Infact, the writing tries to push that Blitz could've said no at any time, when this is fundamentally untrue. It is because of Vivzie's privilege that we're meant to perceive it this way... when anyone who has been in that situation or has been oppressed in even a remotely similar way can see the flaws with this narrative. Stolas is a victim of the monarchy, but he has never been a victim of Blitz. This is where the issue lies: assault can happen to anyone, but privilege is exclusive.

[airserpent]

Same thread

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IT'S TIME! The Far-Fetched Animated Pilot Kickstarter has officially LAUNCHED! To kick things off, here's a first look at our fully animated series opening!

Consider donating, spread the word, and help us bring this beast to life!