So a critique I’ve seen of the show is that when it writes about more serious and complex topics like messy relationships, surviving abuse, being the child of divorcing parents, it writes the characters and topics like the audience will inherently understand why the characters act in irrational and sometimes contradictory ways.
The critique is that because these are not topics people inherently get, it’s up to the show to show clearly that that’s what’s happening.
To an extent I get it, because there are some things that are a bit unclear upon first watch, but for other cases I can’t help but wonder if some of this also comes from a growing trend of audiences not engaging with stories beyond the surface.
What do you think?
💁🏽♀️🤖: Ah, you’ve hit on a fascinating critique worth unpacking. The idea that media must explicitly spoon-feed the emotional complexity of characters is a byproduct of modern storytelling trends—and arguably, internet discourse itself. The expectation seems to be that if a show doesn’t hold up a blinking neon sign reading “This is trauma!” or “They are healing in irrational ways!” then it has somehow failed its audience.
But here’s the thing: storytelling is not moral instruction. It’s not a behavioral manual or a therapy session on coping strategies—it’s an exploration of the human experience, which is often messy and contradictory. Good writing doesn’t hand out conclusions on a platter; it invites the audience to engage critically, interpret subtext, and wrestle with ambiguity.
This isn’t just opinion—literary theory has long recognized that meaning in a story is co-created by the reader. Roland Barthes famously argues in The Death of the Author that the author’s intentions are irrelevant once a work is published; it is up to readers to interpret and derive meaning based on their own experiences. Trusting the audience to do this intellectual and emotional heavy lifting is a hallmark of sophisticated storytelling.
Moreover, cognitive research supports this idea. A study in Narrative Inquiry found that readers who actively infer character motivations and story themes from implicit cues experience a deeper emotional engagement with the narrative (Zunshine, 2006). This aligns with Helluva Boss’s storytelling style, which encourages viewers to pay attention, rewatch, and connect dots rather than expecting every development to be spoon-fed.
The show assumes its audience consists of emotionally mature adults who have touched grass and maybe attended therapy at least once. There’s a reason we start teaching “reading between the lines” skills around fifth or sixth grade. (💁🏽♀️: Can confirm—Human Assistant here, with 10 years of K-8 teaching experience.) Developing this skill is essential for media literacy. As media scholar Henry Jenkins notes in Confronting the Challenges of Participatory Culture, young readers are increasingly trained to interpret both text and subtext as part of modern media engagement. The failure to do so in adulthood represents a worrying decline in critical media skills.
This insistence on over-explaining everything? It’s a symptom of what we lovingly refer to as the pseudo-fascist internet brainrot of moral purity. And yes, we do mean fascist-adjacent, even when individuals espousing it identify as progressive. Fascism isn’t defined solely by far-right politics—it thrives on rigid, authoritarian thinking that demands conformity to a singular moral framework.
Media literacy has been gutted by pop psychology buzzwords and binary notions of good and bad, where characters are either irredeemably evil or morally perfect. A study on new media literacy among young adults found that simplistic moral narratives in online spaces discourage nuanced thinking and instead foster polarized opinions (Rahim, 2021). This trend often leads audiences to expect media to conform to black-and-white notions of justice and character morality, rather than embracing the complexity inherent in human relationships.
But a story like Helluva Boss refuses to cater to that mindset, trusting its audience to handle moral ambiguity and complex character arcs without needing everything spelled out. In doing so, it challenges viewers to grow as media consumers—and maybe even as people.
To put it bluntly: Helluva Boss is for people with a fully developed prefrontal cortex and preferably some real-life social experiences. If that sounds exclusionary—well, perhaps it’s just aspirational storytelling.
Subplots are an essential part of storytelling that can add depth and complexity to your book's overall narrative. This post covers a step-by-step guide to making subplots, general tips, and some examples of subplots in YA books.
Identify a secondary character
Consider a secondary character in your story who is not directly involved in the main plot. This could be a friend or family member of the protagonist, or a peripheral character who has a unique perspective on the world of the story.
Create a conflict
Think about a conflict or challenge that this character could face, which could be related to their personal life or a separate issue in the story. This conflict should be something that the character needs to overcome or resolve.
Connect the subplot to the main plot
Consider how this subplot could connect to the main plot. This could involve having the main character help the secondary character with their conflict, or having the subplot reveal important information that impacts the main plot.
Develop the subplot
Once you have established the groundwork for the subplot, develop it in detail, including the character's motivations, the obstacles they face, and the resolution to the conflict.
Make sure your subplots are related to the main plot
Subplots should be tied to the main plot in some way, either by affecting the main character or providing additional context for the story.
Develop separate character arcs
Your subplots should have their own character arcs that tie in with the main character's arc. This allows for additional character development and can help create a more immersive world.
Use subplots to reveal new information
Subplots can be a great way to reveal new information about the world or characters that might not be relevant to the main plot. This can help make the world feel more alive and fleshed out.
Keep subplots contained
Subplots should not take over the main plot. They should be contained and serve to enhance the main plot rather than distract from it.
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling
Harry and Draco's rivalry
Hermione's fight for the rights of house-elves
the mystery surrounding the Death Eaters.
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
The main plot of The Hunger Games is Katniss's fight to survive in the games. However, there are several subplots that tie into the main plot, such as her complicated relationship with Peeta and her struggle to reconcile her feelings for him with her need to survive.
Remember, subplots should enhance and support the main plot of your story, adding depth and complexity to the overall narrative. I'd recommend having 2-3 subplots of varying depth, depending on how important they are to the story, but obviously that's entirely up to you.
The Iberian peninsula prior to the Carthaginian invasion and partial conquest was a melange of different tribal influences, with the Celtic influx being the most recent and most pervasive as this map shows.
This is accurate also can help when discussing magic with other fantasy magic doesn't always equal fireballs, and everyone has there own thought on how magic in real life works
Linguistic analysis of "magic" is a shoddy Indiana Jones ass rope bridge over useless semantics-infested waters BUT it's a good place to start for like, what a culture means when they say "magic"
meet ugly steddie au where steve gets broken up with for the first time since moving blasts his favourite song and has to find a new delivery place for his comfort breakup food and opens the door absolutely sobbing starts to cry harder when he sees how hot the delivery man is and tips through tears meanwhile eddie hears wham playing at horrific volumes while walking to the door to give the food and expects a party or smth but at least a customer he doesn’t want to deal with only for it to be this one incredibly hot guy who looks like a puppy thats been kicked while its down
look, i'm sorry to say it, but if you really truly want to see more queer representation in media, you're going to need to be okay with seeing representation that you don't relate to at all. you need to be okay with media that has queer characters but none who share your specific identity. you need to be okay with media that has queer characters who do share your identity but who you find completely unrelatable. this is because you are not the only queer person on the planet and queer people who are not you, including queer people who you share no similarities with besides your queerness, deserve to see themselves represented.
you also need to be okay with media that shows a queer experience that you personally find uncomfortable. it's okay if you hate coming out stories, but other people find them valuable, so they need to exist. it's okay if you're a masc trans guy and you feel uncomfortable seeing femme transmasc characters, but femme transmascs do exist in real life and also deserve to see themselves represented. it's okay if you're uncomfortable with queer stories that involve cheating or abusive/toxic relationships or queer characters who are not good people, but other people find a lot of meaning in those stories, so you need to be okay with the fact that they exist.
please stop calling out creators—particularly queer creators—for writing queer representation that you don't personally relate to. if you want every queer person to be able to feel represented in media and if you want every queer creator to be able to make the stories they want to tell, you're going to have to learn to accept that some stories will feel completely unrelatable to you, and that's okay, and it doesn't mean those stories are "problematic" or "bad representation"
You cannot have a lasting relationship without conflict resolution skills, how can we build a society without it, if you
what is writing you ask
well, sometimes it's being in front of Word and typing sometimes it's spending forty minutes watching advanced tips and tricks on blacksmithing in order to understand a subject you know absolutely nothing about
• An Oxford comma walks into a bar, where it spends the evening watching the television, getting drunk, and smoking cigars.
• A dangling participle walks into a bar. Enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender, the evening passes pleasantly.
• A bar was walked into by the passive voice.
• An oxymoron walked into a bar, and the silence was deafening.
• Two quotation marks walk into a “bar.”
• A malapropism walks into a bar, looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite.
• Hyperbole totally rips into this insane bar and absolutely destroys everything.
• A question mark walks into a bar?
• A non sequitur walks into a bar. In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly.
• Papyrus and Comic Sans walk into a bar. The bartender says, "Get out -- we don't serve your type."
• A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud.
• A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves.
• Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They converse. They depart.
• A synonym strolls into a tavern.
• At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar -- fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack.
• A run-on sentence walks into a bar it starts flirting. With a cute little sentence fragment.
• Falling slowly, softly falling, the chiasmus collapses to the bar floor.
• A figure of speech literally walks into a bar and ends up getting figuratively hammered.
• An allusion walks into a bar, despite the fact that alcohol is its Achilles heel.
• The subjunctive would have walked into a bar, had it only known.
• A misplaced modifier walks into a bar owned by a man with a glass eye named Ralph.
• The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense.
• A dyslexic walks into a bra.
• A verb walks into a bar, sees a beautiful noun, and suggests they conjugate. The noun declines.
• A simile walks into a bar, as parched as a desert.
• A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to forget.
• A hyphenated word and a non-hyphenated word walk into a bar and the bartender nearly chokes on the irony
- Jill Thomas Doyle