#or just a throwaway couple of lines

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

Leverage 3x11 - "The Rashomon Job"

[gayofthefae]

"What's the worst that could happen? Play too much video games, smoke too much ganja, experiment sexually"

El: does a simulation, check on "video games"

Jonathan and Argyle: purple palm tree delight, check on "ganja"

Mike and Will:.............

Well, we're going through the list, aren't we, Murray?

[wizardnuke]

i think my main issue with writing fiction is truthfully i have an analysis essay brain and don't know how to say things in a manner that isn't insanely clinical but in my defense it also takes a strong heart to explain the whole bertilak+lady bertilak/gawain situation in academia-acceptable terminology. or it was a struggle for me

[thesaintofnevergettingitright]

I am once again getting emotional about Eliot Spencer and the ways he both gives and receives love.

[destiel-wings]

the craziest thing about the mixtape is it sets up a precedent, we had no idea dean gave it to him because it didn't happen onscreen, we only knew about it because we saw castiel trying to return it.

so how many other gifts may dean have given castiel that he just kept?? whose gifting or returning wasn't crucial to the main plot and so we didn't get to see??

how many destiel scenes happened offscreen during all those years?? another example of this is them watching tombstone. so many little throwaway lines or moments here and there that basically confirm that for as much insane couple behavior we saw onscreen, there was a whole other level of offscreen insanity going on

[luveline]

Hiii!! Could I request a bombshell reader x Spencer where someone (a local police maybe) says something rude to her about her appearance or something and normally it doesn’t really get to her, but something snaps and she kinda shuts down/is rude to Spencer until he coaxes it out of her? Sorry it’s long I had an idea and ran w it loollll

ty for requesting angel! confident fem!reader, 1k

Spencer shouldn’t expect his colleague to hold his hand, especially one so confident. What sense would that make, a woman as established as you are, who smiles without a lick of worry nor smugness, wanting to hold his hand? 

But you do it all the time, is the thing. In the car on the way to crime scenes, in the hallways of the office, under the round table. It started as a tethering for his distractedness, when one day he’d wanted to talk but hadn’t had the presence of mind to walk at the same time, so you’d taken his hand and led him to the office. You’ve been taking it at your discretion ever since.  

Spencer knows something is wrong —you haven’t tried to hold his hand all day. And even if you aren’t interested in him romantically, Spencer has come to crave the touch. He’ll accept platonic hand holding. Anything, really. 

“You’re staring very deeply, Dr. Reid,” you mutter, shades from your usual lightness. 

“I’m thinking.” 

“Aren’t you always?” 

“About you.”

“Well,” you smile fleetingly. “You should always be thinking about me.” 

“You’re truly humble.” 

His joke doesn’t land, it crashes and burns; your smile fades completely into a short, sharp line. Your gaze moves back into the restaurant, waiting for the team's food order in silence once again. 

Spencer’s pinky finger twitches across the gap. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Fine.” 

You stay quiet, Spencer worries. He takes the bags before you can when they bring your food to the collection desk, two lumps of heat he holds to his thighs as you begin the walk back to the hotel. Tonight, the team will pick at their food together and rehash the same arguments they’ve been making all day, filling in each other's gaps, and tomorrow the work will start again. He can’t have you this unhappy again tomorrow. 

“You’re amazing,” he says, watching you turn to him from the corner of his eye, “you know you are, we all do, everyone who meets you. I know you don’t need me to tell you that, or to feel better, but… I’m here for you. If you want to talk. It’s been a hard couple of days, and talking about traumatic events as they happen and directly afterward make them easier to recover from.” 

“I’m not traumatised.” 

“Upsetting,” he corrects. “Having a shoulder to cry on is good for you, and I can be that shoulder. You know, if you need me to be.” 

He can’t know this in the moment, though maybe one day you’ll tell him, further down the line when the hand holding is better defined, but you look at him and you love him. To know Spencer is to love him. Or at least that’s how you’ve always felt. You’d love to cry on his shoulder about what transpired that morning if it weren’t embarrassing to think about, you’re upset over a throwaway comment made by nobody important. 

Spencer offers his company earnestly. He stammers. It’s amazingly sincere, as he usually is. He won’t mind if it’s embarrassing, he’ll just listen. 

You clear your throat. “I know I’m not to everyone’s taste. I know that the way I… present myself isn’t what most men like. People love confidence, but not when it’s bossy, not when it’s– when it’s vain. And I am vain. I think about my appearance a lot, I think I’m beautiful most of the time, I try so hard to have that be true.” You eye him thoughtfully. “Do you realise that?” 

He shakes his head gently, one ear toward one shoulder and then the other, as though balancing. “Sort of. I know you put effort into your appearance, but I also assume a lot of it to be natural.” 

“Right, well. It’s not natural. Not really. My natural beauty wouldn’t be all the beautiful to most people. And I’ve accepted that, I know what I like about myself, and–” You’re losing the thread of your point, an upset creeping into your melodic tone and turning it ragged. “When people tell me they don’t like how I look now, I guess it hurts because I know they wouldn’t like me before, either, and I feel defeated because I know I can’t win.” 

“Who said they don’t like how you look?” Spencer asks, confused, on his way to annoyed. 

“Officer Friendly.” You look to your shoes, watching the steps you take. “Guess he wasn’t as nice as we thought.” 

“What did he say to you?” 

You shrug. “Same story. He doesn’t like girls who wear makeup. Doesn’t like uppity women.” 

“Did he call you that?” 

“What are you gonna do if he did?” you ask without malice. 

“Morgan’s teaching me self defence for a reason.” You smile at his light joke, though it doesn’t last. He transfers the takeout bags into one hand, the other held out to you, his fingers sliding down your arm to your wrist. “You know you’re beautiful, with or without makeup. And you’re not uppity, you’re out of his league. There’s a difference.” 

“You’re flirting with me.” 

“No.” He wishes he had the wherewithal sometimes, but this isn’t flirting. “I’m being honest with you. Men like that don’t like you because they know they’ll never, ever have you, or anyone like you. There isn’t anyone like you,” he adds, sliding his hand into yours. 

He squeezes all your fingers together twice in quick succession. 

“Don’t let a jealous chauvinist halfwit make you think you’re not good enough,” he says. 

You curl your fingers around his before he can take his hand back. Slowly, you squeeze his hand. Then, smiling, you let him go. 

“I’ve never heard you say something mean like that,” you say. “Halfwit. That’s crass.” 

“I was going to say he’s an asshole, if that’s better.” 

Your laugh echoes off of the sidewalk. “That’s perfect. Say something meaner.” 

The insult he uses next doesn’t bear repeating. 

[webbyghost]

im still thinking about those two characters i made for my cooties fic and i want to write them more but im done with the fic...........

[flightlessangelwings]

Being inclusive with your reader insert fic is a kindness. It tells people of color (poc) that you are considering someone who does not look like you in your fic. It shows love and dedication to our craft. It tells poc that they belong here too and they can see themselves in your story.

Poc aren’t look for activism in fic, we know fandom isn’t that serious, but we should be able to have that same level of escapism when we turn to fic and fandom. We belong here too. This space is for everyone, not just one group of people.

Just to give a few examples of how simple it can be: say “skin warmed” instead of blushed, say “cradled your head” instead of running fingers through hair, say “angles yourself to kiss” instead of standing on tiptoes, use italics to indicate Spanish to take out a throwaway line of “you didn’t understand Spanish” things like that. Small changes that do not impact the fic at all but make a world of difference in inclusivity!

And for anything you can’t/don’t want to change, simply add warning in the beginning. Things like hair descriptors, anything reader might wear, some backstory for reader (especially involving family or where the story is set), readers job, things like that. A lot of times just having that heads up before the fic makes a world of difference!

And one example of kindness we as writers always worked to change: until recently (just a couple years ago) it wasn’t common to label the gender of the reader. But those who aren’t female asked writers to label it so they know which to read and which to avoid, and now it’s common to label the gender/pronouns of the reader. So it is possible! It just takes effort! And I’m a writer myself so I know it can be done!

We can pretend to be a bartender or a bounty hunter or an actress or anything else. But we shouldn’t have to imagine we’re a white one.

[flwrkid14]

The Tim Drake Heartthrob Conspiracy

It started as a slow, creeping suspicion. A few throwaway comments here, a couple of odd interactions there. At first, no one thought much of it.

One day, Dick was grabbing coffee near Wayne Enterprises when he overheard two interns chatting in line. “I saw Tim Drake today, and let me tell you, I think I’ve developed a new celebrity crush,” one of them said, giggling.

Dick nearly choked on his iced latte. Tim? Celebrity crush? He shook it off, chalking it up to the occasional corporate crush, nothing out of the ordinary for someone who runs a massive company. But then he heard it again the next week at a Titan’s briefing. Garfield leaned over to him during a meeting, nodding toward Tim across the room.

“Man, Tim’s really come into his own, huh? Guy’s kinda a looker now,” Gar commented.

Dick blinked, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, come on, Nightwing,” Gar teased, “you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed! The quiet broody thing is working for him. I bet half of Gotham has a crush on him.”

By the time Dick got back to Gotham, the gears were turning in his head. Did half of Gotham have a crush on Tim?

Then it happened again. This time it was Damian’s turn.

He had been sparring with Jon in the Batcave, when their conversation drifted, as it often did. “You ever think about what it would be like to date someone like Tim?” Jon asked, completely out of the blue.

Damian froze, mid-punch. “What?”

“I mean, he’s smart, right? Responsible, kinda low-key. Would probably make a great boyfriend,” Jon continued, completely oblivious to the growing horror on Damian’s face.

“Grayson and Todd, are enough. I refuse to let another sibling of mine become Gotham’s romantic fascination!” Damian exclaimed later that night at the dinner table. The others laughed, assuming Damian was just being overly dramatic, as usual.

But the seed had been planted.

It didn’t take long for the other Batfamily members to start picking up on the signs.

Steph first noticed when she logged onto a Wayne Enterprises fan forum (because yes, those exist) and saw a thread that was simply titled, “Tim Drake’s Glow-Up Appreciation Post”. The page was filled with comments fawning over him—talking about his “sharp jawline,” his “dark, mysterious aura,” and how “charming” he was during interviews.

Naturally, Steph sent the link to Cass with a laughing emoji. “Look at our boy, growing up into Gotham’s next heartbreaker,” she joked.

But as more and more of these comments popped up in the oddest places, Steph’s joking tone faded. Was Tim really the next heartthrob?

The realization hit Jason last, as most things concerning Tim usually did. He was scrolling through his usual online haunts, browsing forums that discussed Gotham’s vigilantes, when he stumbled on something unusual.

A post titled: Top 10 Reasons Why Red Robin is the Best Looking Vigilante in Gotham.

Jason almost clicked out of it immediately, assuming it was some kind of joke. But no. There were paragraphs. Analysis. Photos that somehow made Tim look like a damn model, even in his ridiculous Red Robin cape.

Jason scrolled through in disbelief, not sure what he was more stunned by: the fact that people were thirsting after Tim, or that someone had gone to this much effort to explain why he was hot.

“That’s it. The internet is officially broken,” Jason muttered to himself, before sending a screenshot to the family group chat with the caption: Since when did Tim become a fashion icon?

The real kicker, though, was Alfred. After weeks of the Batfamily casually throwing around jokes about Tim’s newly discovered “status,” Alfred finally made his observation one morning over breakfast.

“Master Timothy has always had a certain quiet charm about him,” Alfred said as he served coffee, completely unbothered by the ensuing chaos.

Dick, nearly spilling his coffee: “Wait, you knew about this? Why didn’t you say something?”

Alfred raised a brow. “It hardly seemed necessary. I assumed you all were already aware of Master Timothy’s appeal.”

Appeal. Appeal.

Jason was laughing so hard he had to leave the room, while Steph and Cass exchanged glances that said everything: they needed to re-evaluate everything about their little brother.

The whole Batfamily was still coming to terms with it. They joked, they teased, but there was an undeniable shift. When they looked at Tim now, they saw what others had apparently been seeing for years—a quietly confident, strikingly intelligent young man who had somehow grown into one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors.

Of course, the moment that really sealed the deal came when Tim rode into the Batcave one evening on his Red Bird bike, wearing hastily thrown on stylish outfit—a black leather jacket, perfectly fitted jeans, and a shirt that gave him a casual, yet effortlessly cool look. Running a hand through his still damp hair, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

“Sorry, I’m running late. Got a date.”

For a moment, the Batfamily just stared.

Holy. Shit.

And then, as if on cue, Dick, Steph, Cass, Duke, Jason, and even Damian had the same thought at the same time: Oh my God, Tim Drake is the Batfamily’s biggest heartthrob.

The realization was almost too much to handle.

[egophiliac]

did you know that in one of dorm epel's voicelines he mentions he once got lost in pomefiore and ended up in a creepy basement. it's never mentioned again or given any clarification and i think about it every day

that comes up a couple of times actually! there's just like...a weird creepy dungeon slash old alchemy lab that the Pomefiore castle was built on top of. I think Vil might use it sometimes? but really it serves absolutely no purpose beyond the characters every once in a while being like "oh yeah, there's that secret underground laboratory we all apparently know about" and then never elaborating on it at all.

(I know it's a movie reference, but it's still pretty wild to just. in-universe have a not-so-secret basement alchemy dungeon that never has any relevance beyond a couple of throwaway lines. what other buckwild secrets does NRC hold that the characters just never talk about for some reason)

[dadvans]

i am just so sad right now. like going into s8 i didn’t think bucktommy would be endgame, but the way s8 started changed my mind, so to have them be literally so in love for 5 episodes straight just to have them break up in the most abrupt way?? it just feels so last minute which is shocking because in the interviews this was apparently a planned thing but it doesn’t feel like it at all. Like if this was a concern Tommy had why didn’t it come up at all? like little throwaway lines of Tommy making jokes of Buck getting sick of him or wanted to explore other options or whatever. I hope the backlash makes them rethink, and Tommy comes back but for now it doesn’t seem like it. I guess my only hope is that Buddie goes canon, but even then i won’t be able to really enjoy it. I seriously don’t know if i’ll be able to keep watching the show, not solely because they broke up, but because of how they broke up. (srry for the long ask, just needed to vent)

no apologies needed!

at the end of the day, so many of us found joy in their story, their chemistry, the way even up until the final second tommy admitted that what he wanted with buck was something that would inevitably break his heart.

they were good together. tommy fit into so many intimidating parts of buck's life with ease. tommy is (as far as we know) still good friends with buck's best friend! tommy loved him anyway, loved him warts and all, road shotgun to buck's worst fears and weirdest conspiracies.

at the end of the day, we have a few things:

we GOT them. we got to see them together, we got the soft looks, we got the kisses, the foundation of them that is real and canon in a way we could strike like a match against the edge of a box to light them up for real all over again. i don't think "being canon" gives any credence or superiority to a ship, and have shipped people or characters that have never interacted/existed together in a tangible way, simply because it's FUN. that's how i'll always have fun with ships and fandom, BUT! what a wonderful thing to celebrate that we DID have them, that we have this as a foundation for whatever comes next, that there is never a door permanently closed to them finding each other again when it was already real from the start

for a lot of us, this isn't how their story ends. it's insane that so much fic and content was produced for a canon ship like this. so often fandom is chasing down the what-ifs and never-hads. a lot of us invested in bucktommy because they had the compatibility, the fit, the chemistry, the potential. that's novel shit! that doesn't just evaporate because they broke up in canon. it certainly hurts. the kind of hype we were surfing will crash and sink back in the oncoming months, but i know talking to a lot of people tonight that we aren't done with this ship. we aren't ready to say goodbye.

i'm sad. i'm angry. i felt a real sense of queer euphoria whenever i saw them together, even for 30 seconds, teetering on the edge of this new couple joy learning each other into something new and weird and fun that always lingered as a promise on the edge of their interactions. i was so excited for who buck could become with tommy as his home base. shifting that has rocked me in a bad way.

i expect people to inevitably step away from this ship and this fandom, but i'll mention that non-canon ships like arthur/eames or mcshep or social network rpf or short-lived shows from 1996 (hi sentinel) have had long-lived fandoms and left long-lasting impressions in other fandoms that have lasted for over a decade of zero additional content. this is a playground that, just because they've parted ways for now, we don't have to stop playing in.

and i'll be honest: i have several WIPs i'm like, well trash that! after watching the most recent episode. but i also have a dozen new ideas. new ways they could fall in love now or again, new ways they could meet, new ways they could be for each other.

i'll keep creating. i'll keep dreaming. they won't ever not have the spark that they had. the show could end tomorrow but we'll always have an open door to believing and shaping the thousands of ways they can and will find each other again.

[karasbroken]

So I've been thinking about sex scenes a lot, for obvious reasons, and that had me thinking about John and Aeryn's physicality with each other. And a lot has been said about Ben and Claudia's chemistry, which is undeniable. Yet Ben actually brings a lot of sexual energy to scenes in Farscape in general. Just watch new reactors get uncomfortable during John/Chiana scenes or reference any of the other women he kisses and cuddles.

But there's something special about John/Aeryn and I think it shows up best right here in this little moment at the beginning of Infinite Possibilities Part I, Daedalus Demands.

I don't know who decided on the framing in this shot. I do know that these two, Ben especially, are very aware of camera angles and tended to be in frame, as much as possible, in an equal way. Side by side, or at least heads level, rarely one looming above or below the other, and Aeryn as likely to be higher as John. It wouldn't surprise me if they chose this, but if anyone has a script, let me know?

In general they give us unusual positioning versus how TV couples are often portrayed (the woman being enveloped by the man, or looking up to him, or being under him). But this particular setup, coded as post-coital, isn't one I can immediately recall being used in another show. It's almost spooning, but flipped, John was using her hip as a pillow while they talked right before this. (The preface is just so unbearably cozy and cute, teasing each other about him being crazy and it all being her fault.)

But then John gets frisky, and he doesn't move to kiss her, or grope her chest, or roll her under him (yet, if it hadn't been interrupted this would be a nice position to transition to '69' which is another thing I can't recall being hinted at outside of porn).

No he turns his head and kisses that hip--not a part of the body that usually gets comments in TV or real life. John, though, has paid it a lot of attention, given this little throwaway line from Unrealized Realities: "What you should really ask - is how I know you've got a birthmark on the sweet spot of your hip."

It's so charming, and so so sexy. The way she bites her lip as his mouth brushes the skin there makes it pretty damn clear that John goes down on her and is good enough at it to get her immediately interested.

And oh, how he loves to play with the edges of her clothing. This isn't the only time John's fingertips stray to that gap of bare midriff flesh the wardrobe team loves to give Aeryn. (It's to help keep her cool, can't risk Sebacean heat delirium, right?)

So of course John's finger starts to slip under the band of her panties and it's about to get going (again, these two are insatiable) and then the damn wormhole has to appear to distract him!

I've been trying to deconstruct why these two are so fucking hot so I can borrow a little of that for my stories. It's not just "chemistry". It's the little details that we haven't seen a thousand times before, making them feel like real people who enjoy each other's bodies, rather than actors performing for the camera.

They are actors, of course! Just friends, despite what RPF stories might like to fantasize about. But they clearly trust each other enough to slip into a physical connection that is amazingly natural. It's fun to watch and I hope you didn't mind my indulging myself a bit on this one.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Rating: SFW (later chapters will be NSFW) Type: Long form, multi-chapter, Stanford Pines x Reader Tags: Mutual pining, no pronouns used, teasing, a special appearance from Stan, mentions of the kids, housekeeper!Reader, tw: my horrible jokes. Word count: 5,729 My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3! Ch.2 here

In which a simple expedition with Ford goes increasingly sideways and you learn more than enough about thermodynamics to last you a lifetime.

A/N: This has been quite an undertaking to produce. I created this fic as somewhat of a universe in which base a number of my post-portal!Ford one-shots etc in, and that meant I had to lay a lot of groundwork in it. I wanted to have a setting where I didn't need to keep giving background on what the Reader's role is and how/why they feel a certain way in every fic, and to also offer a kind of timeline that could be explored through future works. Because of that, in this fic there will be vague allusions to some small events happening to set us up for the current day and if people are interested in reading more about those events in full detail then I'd really love to explore them properly with you guys.

Just as an aside - Reader will mention they don't have a father in a throwaway line. It can be taken as just a joke or as literal. Up to you.

Anyway, most of this fic is already completed and I'll be posting a new chapter every couple of days or so. You can wait to read it all in one go or enjoy it in chapters. There will be roughly 5 in total. Enjoy!

Sometimes, in life, things align so perfectly that a person can't stop themselves from considering the possibility of cosmic interference.

Deities. The universe. Some other unseen, all powerful entity of murky origin. All of their existences seem far more plausible when events in one's life fall effortlessly into place and line up to give them the exact thing they've always wanted.

Today is one of those days.

You're busy chopping onions when the planets orient themselves for you.

The broad kitchen knife in your hand knocks rhythmically against the oak board underneath it with every slice you make and the little ribbons of milk-white flesh stack neatly between blade and vegetable, but your attention is, quite irresponsibly, elsewhere.

You really ought to be keeping track of your fingers but you're far too preoccupied with gazing out of the bay window in front of you to really care all that much. The thing is huge; its frame is rimmed with rich mahogany and it has one broad, square pane sitting in the centre, beset by two more, slimmer, rectangular pieces. It drinks in the waning daylight outside and on sunnier evenings, the pretty little stained panels that skirt the tops of each one glow a rich blue, showing off the depictions of constellations inside, like someone has captured part of the night sky and trapped it within the glass for their own private amusement.

Today, the clouds block the sun and the cerulean glass is dull, but you don’t mind too much. You’re not making use of the window to admire the art, lovely as it may be. You’re far more focused on what’s taking place on the lawn, beyond the bounds of the warm interior of the house.

Out on the well-kept grass, two figures are vigorously working out. Well, one is. The other looks like he’d rather keel over and die than spend another second out there, but he’s doing his best all the same and that’s what matters, you suppose.

Steam rises from Ford’s figure as he pauses in his work to help his nephew grip a mid-sized dumbbell correctly. It curls off and around his body like smoke, rising from its sweaty source and wafting into the unseasonably cool air. His cheeks are pink, likely both from exertion and the chill in the weather, and the colour blooms all the way across his face, stretching far enough to even tickle the tips of his ears.

He looks gorgeous.

Dressed in all-black, he’s wearing a short sleeve t-shirt and sweats, paired with dirty blue trainers. Where the skin of his throat and arms should be exposed, however, they’re instead wrapped up tight in what you presume to be some kind of fancy thermal shirt. You’ve never seen him wear anything that shows off his skin, yet somehow the way it clings to the curves of his biceps and forearms is even more revealing than seeing them bare.

Granted, this isn't the first time you've spied on one of his workout sessions like this (in almost exactly the same way), but every time he shows up, it feels like you've been blessed by the Heavens.

Ford, for what it’s worth, hasn’t noticed anything untoward. Not as far as you’re aware, anyway. He’s usually too lost in whatever he’s doing to pay you much mind and if he does catch your presence in the window, you’re always quick to make yourself look busy.

Ford works out four times a week, like clockwork, on the front lawn of the house he shares with his brother. He doesn't always have his nephew with him (Dipper clearly only ever wants to do his best for his great-uncle, however exercise is hardly the kid's forte and you can't say you blame him), which means that oftentimes you get the absolute pleasure of observing a clueless Ford lift weights and stretch his quads for sixty minutes whilst you break from your other chores to prepare them all dinner.

You've been working for the Pines’ for the better part of a year now and getting hired had been a complete accident:

Upon moving to Gravity Falls eighteen months ago and landing the first job you had come across in the local paper (an underpaid, exhausting waitressing gig at the local diner) you’d run into the kids one afternoon on a rare day off.

Mabel had almost smashed your ankle to bits after she and her brother had lost control of their overstuffed trolley and once they had finished their litany of apologies, you’d taken note of the cart’s contents: primarily filled with sugar riddled snacks and items with so little nutritional value that you’d been astounded they’d been legal to sell, neither one of the kids appeared to know how they were going to lug all their so-called food home or what they were going to make for dinner.

Without much else to do, you’d volunteered to lend a hand. They had explained their task: “Grunkle Stan says his back hurts too much to waste time in the store these days and he promised that if we helped, he’d make Grunkle Ford teach us how to drive so we can do it even faster!” Mabel had enthusiastically informed you, eyes bright and metaphorical tail bushy, and despite your confusion over the concept of a ‘Grunkle’, the idea of two apparently-just-turned fourteen year olds at the wheel had been less than thrilling.

Some gentle sweet talking had convinced them to swap out some of their items for things a little more suitable and you’d carried their bags back on a short walk to the house where you’d met the infamous Stan lounging on its porch, his feet up on some empty crates.

At Mabel’s excited introduction of you and her retelling of your recipe ideas, Stan had given you a once over before he’d asked how you felt about replacing the kids as dinner gofer. As it turned out, sending two hyperactive children out to get groceries every week had apparently (shockingly) not been working out too well for the older brothers, and one offer of help had turned into several paid offers.

After only a few short weeks of assisting them, you’d been offered a full time position as housekeeper. The decision to take them up on it had been easy; waitressing barely covered the bills for your decrepit little cabin on the outskirts of town and spending hours every day walking the same five metre route to and from the kitchen six days a week was monotonous enough that you’d been considering moving on anyway.

You’d jumped at the chance.

Technically, your job here is to help with the household tasks that Stan is too lazy to do and that Ford is too busy researching or gallivanting around in the forest to take on, but more often than not, you’re stuck doing whatever little thing Stan thinks up so that he can, as he puts it: ‘enjoy his retirement, sweetheart’. The work extends to any little chore they might need help with, and when the kids head home for summer and Ford and Stan set sail for a few months again, it falls to you to keep the place standing until they return.

Hence why you’re slaving away in their roomy kitchen this evening, gazing out at Ford like you’re some kind of yearning protagonist in a classic romance novel and turning over several thoughts in your mind that you’re sure would get you fired if you revealed them in detail to anyone else. You exhale softly as you watch him show Dipper how to correctly pull off a bicep curl, his arm flexing beneath his shirt.

Behind you, at the dinner table, Stan pauses where he's rustling through his daily newspaper at a leisurely pace and his chair creaks as he shifts in it. “Keep sighing like that and you’ll fog the windows up before he’s finished.”

You start, having completely forgotten his presence, and narrowly you swerve the kitchen knife to avoid chopping off the tip of your index finger. “Jesus, Stan!” you huff. “I almost cut my hand off! They should put a bell on you.”

Stan laughs under his breath. “Oh, they’ve tried, trust me,” he mutters darkly. “Besides, that’s what you get for not paying attention.”

“I am paying attention,” you lie. “I was just…. Thinking.”

“About what?” Stan asks, in a way that suggests he already knows. He probably does.

Stan is the only other person besides yourself who’s aware of your affection for Ford.

The crush had started small, blossoming slowly over time into something more significant, and Stan had worked it out before you’d even caught it yourself.

For all his faults, the guy is as perceptive as they come and admittedly, he’s a lot of fun in his own right. He’s cantankerous and rough around the edges, and yet he’s got a heart of gold that he hides deep underneath his gaudy chains and string vests. At first, he’d been grumpy and standoffish about your presence, despite being the one to hire you in the first place, but as time has gone by and you’ve proven yourself to be competent at both the work and at giving as good you get, he’s dropped his guard and dragged you into his jokes and games.

Although he’s less than thrilled about your private sentiments towards his brother, he's charming in his own special way and he only ever uses it to rag on you when he’s feeling mean. To the best of your knowledge, he hasn’t said a word to anyone else about it. Stan is an ass, but he’s not cruel.

And while you’re not going to divulge your most intimate thoughts to him, you’ll always rise to a little back and forth with him. He seems to enjoy having a verbal sparring partner.

“How old did you say your brother was again?” You ask with feigned innocence, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“What?” Stan grunts, folding the top of his paper down enough to glower at you over it.

“I said, remind me how old your brother is again,” you repeat, turning your attention back to watching Ford lean down to stretch his hamstrings again. It looks like he’s cooling down for the day now which means he’ll be doing static stretches for the next ten minutes, and every time he does so you’re treated to a wonderful view of his ass.

“Same age as me,” Stan says, and at your silence he tacks on: “We’re twins,” like you’re an idiot.

“So….?”

“He’s sixty-two, genius.”

“Huh,” you mutter quietly. “Interesting….”

It's hard to remember when Ford is so agile and active, and for all your interest in him, you've never actually asked his age. Sixty-two is perfectly doable though, in every conceivable sense of the word…..

Stan rustles his paper again. “If you’re thinkin’ about what I think you’re thinkin’ about, and I know you are, don’t even think about it.”

You snort. He has such a way with words.

"I told you last time, stay away from him. He's...." Stan pauses, as though he intends to say something else but thinks better of it. "He's old enough to be your father."

“I don’t have a father,” you say absentmindedly.

It’s Stan’s turn to snort now. “Y’know, that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

You tear your gaze away from Ford’s routine to flip Stan the bird, sticking your tongue out for good measure before you reach for the glass mixing bowl to your right. Now that your evening matinee is ending, you really ought to get a move on with dinner.

“Anyway, I didn’t hire you to gawp at my brother like he’s a piece of meat on the discount shelf,” Stan grouches. “You’re s’posed to be cooking.”

“I'm not gawping, I just happen to be facing the same way that he's doing all his stuff in,” you say defensively, before adding in a muttered: “Besides, he definitely wouldn’t be on the discount shelf.”

“Uh huh,” Stan says, clearly not believing a word.

Rather than defend your actions, you focus on your work: Tonight's dinner is wild mushroom pie. You've only made it once before but it's nice and filling, and you're supposed to be helping everyone eat better. Bad diets run in the family apparently (although where Ford is concerned, he just as often skips meals altogether some days) and so far, they've all been amenable to trying something new. The kids had been reluctant to test out vegetables at first but after a few valiant efforts to make them as palatable as possible they'd come round.

A lot of the work is already done; a pot of stock is simmering away on the hob, the onions from earlier are ready to be tossed into the slowly-warming frying pan and a red, ceramic pie dish is neatly lined with pastry and ready to go whenever you need it. For now, the next task is to prepare the star ingredient: Wild mushrooms.

You’ll be the first to admit, quite happily, that you're not the most outdoorsy of people and you're going to cheat a little bit on the ‘wild’ requirements. You'd picked up a packet of the things last weekend at the supermarket with the intention of doing one thing or another with them, and it does say on the label that they're wild, so you'll let yourself off on that one. Although, knowing Gravity Falls you're really hoping that ‘wild’ isn't a play on words and they turn out to be some kind of feral man-eating fungi. You're not in the mood to be hunted down by a hungry creature today.

Leaving your pots and pans to simmer, you check in the pantry for the little box only to come up empty handed. There's no sign of it anywhere in there, not even when you rummage around right at the back, and you call out to Stan in confusion: “Have you seen the mushrooms I brought back last week?”

“The ones in the brown container?” Stan asks.

“Yeah….”

“Mabel fed ‘em to Waddles last night,” he says, and when you stick your head around the pantry door to stare at him in disbelief, he shrugs without looking up. “What was I supposed to do, tell her no?”

You know what he means; She’s upstairs right now giving the damn pig a manicure makeover with your old (and apparently animal safe) nail polishes because you hadn’t had it in you to deny her them when she’d been upset about her own limited supplies.

It’s extraordinarily hard to refuse Mabel anything and you can appreciate the difficulty, but still.

“Stan, I told you what I was planning to cook tonight!” You groan, kicking the pantry door shut. “How am I supposed to make a mushroom pie with no mushrooms?”

You can’t exactly nip to the store today either. Every single shop in town is shut. The news this morning had warned of a major storm blowing in and informed everyone that they best stay at home lest they keep an inflatable raft in their back pocket, and no one sells those outdated things anymore. Too many accidental indoor deployments, apparently.

According to Ford, this place is susceptible to irrational weather spells and the increasingly aggressive changes in pressure and temperature that have spawned with global warming have only made them more volatile. Last summer there had been a spate of hailstorms that had puked up football-sized pieces of ice and smashed the windscreen of your car to pieces. You’re still sore about that one….

“What am I supposed to do?” You lament, sparing a miserable glance at the half-done recipe on the stove.

From behind you, a deep voice makes you jump: “Is something wrong?”

You almost leap out of your skin, swivelling on the spot to find the source hovering in the doorway of the kitchen.

Both brothers have the ability to be supernaturally quiet when they want to be. While Stan uses his subtlety less often, Ford skulks around like a well practised alley cat a lot of the time and he frequently scares the shit out of you. He must have finished his routine and crept back inside unannounced.

He gives you an apologetic smile, holding one hand up to ease your fear. “Apologies,” he laughs under his breath. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Ford is still dressed in his workout clothes, his thick, wavy hair roguishly dishevelled and slightly damp at the temples, and he looks just as lovely up close as he had done from the window. Perhaps even lovelier.

You swallow thickly, your brain short circuiting at the sight of him. “Uh, yes?” You say, though it's more of a question than an answer.

Ford looks at you expectantly, evidently waiting for you to expand on your problem, and Stan smirks at your lack of grace.

You shake your head minutely, desperately pulling yourself together and hoping he'll assume your speechless state is just because he's made you jump and not because your heart is climbing up your throat.

“I'm making pie,” you say, jerking your thumb over at the pots. “And someone,” You pause to fix Stan with an annoyed look and he rolls his eyes. “Let Mabel feed them all to Waddles, and…. I don’t have a back up plan.”

You feel a little stupid admitting it aloud.

Ford hums thoughtfully, heavy brows creasing together as he leans against the doorframe.

“That's quite the conundrum….” He says, frowning at the flagstone tiles under your feet.

His dark eyes flicker back and forth quickly, and you can tell he's trying to think up a solution.

After a long pause, he snaps his fingers and speaks up again: “You know, I did stumble across a nice little patch of mushrooms not far from here about a month ago. We could take a walk up there and grab some, if you'd like?”

“In the forest?” You ask, brows raised.

“Where else?” Ford grins, and you feel your stomach fill with butterflies. “They're edible, of course, I've tested them myself.”

“Are you telling me you ate random mushrooms you found on the ground, Doctor Pines?” You ask, mildly appalled. “They could have killed you.”

Ford waves a hand dismissively. “Unlikely. My travels have given me something of an iron stomach. It takes more than a Death Cap to put me down these days.”

At the mention of ‘travels’, you perk up a bit.

Ford's history is more than a little murky to you. In the time you’ve been working for the family, you’ve only heard second-hand snippets or passing mentions of his alleged escapades. The kids have let slip to you several times about his adventures and, despite initially assuming they'd been making things up for fun, the stories had eventually begun to seem a little too consistent to simply be make-believe.

One evening, when the kids had been safely tucked up in bed and Ford had been locked away in his study, you’d brought the subject up to Stan over a nightcap on the porch.

Stan had sighed, lit a cigar, and sworn you to secrecy before giving you a rough outline of his brother’s complex background: his outstandingly impressive academic history, their less-than-ideal family rift and some kind of accident that had sent Ford careening into, quite literally, another dimension. Stan hadn’t gone into excessive detail, and you hadn’t pushed despite desperately wanting to, but by his own admission he had felt that if you were to be working around them then you’d be better off at least having some idea of their strange history.

And strange it is.

You yourself have only lived in Gravity Falls for the better part of eighteen months and becoming accustomed to the weirdness of this place has been unusually easy. Residents take the bizarre in such casual stride that you’re more likely to stick out should you make a fuss about it all and after a while, seeing the odd oddity around had quickly become the norm.

At Stan’s vague reveal of his brother’s disappearance and, as everyone else calls them, his travels, the notion had been surprisingly easy to fathom in the context of such an already weird place. Utterly incredible, yet somehow very in line with this town.

Ford has never brought it up to you himself beyond a rare, fleeting mention, but you’re aware that he’s apparently spent significant time in places that other people might only dream of.

You’re sure he knows of your vague awareness but you know better than to poke around in other people’s sore wounds without permission.

Stan had warned that neither he nor his brother were predisposed to telling everyone and anyone about his time away and you can’t really blame them. From what you know (and can imagine), it can’t have been all fun and games.

“I think he’s got, like, PTSD or somethin’,” Stan had said that night, sounding genuinely heartbroken about it. “So don’t go sniffing around him, alright? He’s…. It’s difficult. Everyone’s been through a lot. Maybe we’ll tell you about it properly one day.”

You understand, of course. Whatever has gone on in their lives is clearly significant and you’re still an outsider. A year is no time at all in the grand scheme of things and they’re a tightly-knit, protective family. They’ve no reason to fill you in on their traumatic family history just because you help around the house and you’ve no right to know it, but you’re willing to earn their trust and if the stories come with it, then so be it.

Although slow to start, things have been going well so far and you’re closer than ever with them, so every titbit Ford drops has you on tenterhooks immediately.

“Besides,” Ford says, still on the subject of his thrilling mushroom discoveries, “their lack of toxicity isn’t even the most exciting part!” He adjusts his glasses and you can tell he's gearing up into scientist-mode.

Behind you, Stan sighs, long-suffering.

“I thought they tasted significantly more intense than a regular mushroom, so once I’d confirmed that they were safe for general human consumption, I asked Dipper to try them. He reported them to be, in his words, 'beefy'. Now, Umami is the most commonly associated flavour with regard to mushrooms because of naturally occurring glutamate, but monosodium glutamate, which would deepen the flavour even more and fall in line with mine and Dipper's taste tests, isn't, and I doubt the gnomes are out there spraying crops with MSG. They haven't the tools for that, I've checked. Anyway, I asked Mabel to try them and she said they tasted, quote, ‘like chocolate stirred by puppies and angels’,”

Here, Ford pauses to laugh fondly before he goes on:

“Which is most certainly not a common flavour of mushroom. So my hypothesis is that they change taste based on whoever touches them and I've been meaning to test them again, seeing as we ate the first batch before I could record the findings properly. We'd be killing two birds with one stone, really.”

You have to fight back a smile. The way he lights up when he talks about his stupid fucking mushrooms is beyond cute and you always enjoy watching him get passionate about his projects, especially when he veers off course on silly tangents that he deems relevant.

But Ford has never asked you to accompany him before which makes this event all the more alluring. It's a privilege to be invited along and as much as you want to jump at the chance, you do have one worry:

“What about the storm?”

At the table, Stan pushes his chair back with a screech and stands up. “Exactly. TV said it's gonna be a bad one and I'm not paying for another newspaper ad if you kill our housekeeper just because you wanna show off again.”

Ford sputters. “I'm not showing off, Stanley! This is about science!”

It should be worrying that his main concern is his pride over your potential death-by-negligence, but the way the top of his ears turn red at his brother's accusation overrules your concern. He's disgustingly adorable when he gets embarrassed.

Dipper chooses that exact moment to trot past his great uncle's side and into the kitchen, giving you a bright, exhausted smile. He’s shed his workout gear for a t-shirt and a fresh pair of sweats, and his hair is slightly damp. “Dinner smells good,” he yawns. “I'm starving. I got ten whole reps in today, right, Grunkle Ford?” He looks especially proud about it.

Ford shucks off his ire to give his nephew a warm smile. “That you did, my boy. Up two compared to last week, by my calculations. You're going to be giving me a run for my money before the summer is over.”

Dipper rubs the back of his neck, bashful, but the way he's beaming betrays his excitement. “I wouldn't go that far….”

“Nice work, dude,” you grin, offering a hand out for a high five.

He takes the bait and slaps your palm with his before fetching himself a soda. “So, how long ‘til dinner?”

You wince inwardly. He'll be hungry enough to eat a horse by now and you can't let him subsist on snacks after all the exercise he's done today. It won't help him build the muscle you know he so desperately wants if all he eats are chips, dips and sodas.

“You better stock up on snacks tonight, kid,” Stan chuckles as he reaches for his own bag of chips that he already has open the table top. “Somebody forgot to get ingredients.”

You shoot Stan a venomous look and at Dipper's disappointed little ‘wait, what?’, you turn back to Ford. Storm be damned, the idea of letting down a child makes you feel worse than getting stuck in a downpour ever could, and you know you'll regret it but what other choice do you have? You've done stupider things for less.

“You're sure the patch isn't far from here?” You ask Ford, giving in with a sigh. “And we'll beat the storm?”

Ford beams at your change of heart, and that, combined with the knowledge of a well-fed charge, instantly makes your agreement worth it. His moods vary like the wind sometimes and you’re always eager to see him happy because you know that it means he’ll spend more time talking to you.

“We'll be in and out in under an hour, you have my word,” he assures you. “I know that place like the back of my hand.”

You sigh again. “Fine. I'll go with you to get the mushrooms.”

Dipper slips back out of the kitchen. Usually, you're sure he'd inquire about your task and ask to come along, but it seems he really is thoroughly exhausted from his gym session and he takes an early leave. Poor kid.

Ford nods, pleased. “Give me a moment to shower and change. I'll put together some supplies and then we can leave.”

“Sure,” you smile. “And thank you, Doctor Pines. I appreciate the help.”

Ford grins, giving you a nod, and then he’s following his nephew out of the kitchen, sweeping down the hallway to sort out his things.

You make use of the spare time to tidy up a little and lower the gas on the stock as low as it will go, then take the pan off the heat. If Ford means what he says about getting in and out quickly, you might have a chance at saving the rest of the prep and it would be a shame to have to start everything over again.

You clean up your workstation and make sure everything is safely put aside before taking a seat at the table to wait.

It's then that you realise Stan is watching you closely. He’s smirking, and it always makes you a little nervous when he wears that mischievous look.

“What?” You ask him hesitantly.

“You can just call him Ford, y’know,” Stan says, slumping back in his chair and looking amused. “Pretty sure he wouldn’t mind….”

You roll your eyes, shrugging one shoulder. “Not this again. I told you before, he's never asked me to call him anything else. I did the same for you when I first started, didn't I?”

“Yeah, and I told you to stop because you made me sound like my old man,” Stan gripes through a mouthful of potato chips.

“Exactly, and that's your prerogative,” you say, a little defensively.

You're telling the truth; Ford hasn’t ever asked you to call him something less formal, even if you might like to try the taste of something more intimate on your tongue. “Ford has earned his title, I’m not going to take it away from him.”

Stan snorts. “Oh, I bet he loves that.”

“What?”

“You, stroking his ego and running around after him like a lost puppy,” Stan says, amused.

“First of all, I run around for everyone in this house like a lost puppy, it's literally my job,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Secondly, I’m not stroking his ego. The guy’s smart and he’s got an armful for doctorates. I’m just…. Acknowledging that.”

“Uh huh,” Stan says, sceptical.

“What now?” You huff.

“Nothing.”

“Stan,” you say sternly. “Don’t play coy, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh come on,” he says, trying and failing to keep the smirk off of his face. “Could you be any more obvious? You're worse than Dipper was when he came back after all that time, hanging off his every word and getting all googly-eyed over him like the sun shines out of his ass.”

“I don’t-“

“‘Yes Doctor Pines, no Doctor Pines’,” Stan simpers, putting on a poor imitation of your voice. “Take me out to the woods and experiment on me, Doctor Pines!’”

You can feel your face heat up. “You're such an asshole sometimes, you know that? And he isn’t experimenting on me, he asked me to help hi-”

“Show me your magic mushroo -“

Someone clears their throat in the kitchen doorway and both you and Stan whip your heads around to follow the source of the noise. Much to your horror, Ford is waiting for you, clad in jeans and a trademark red turtleneck along with a pair of filthy hiking boots. There's a sizable backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders and he doesn’t look very amused at his brother's antics.

“Are you done?” He asks, levelling Stan with a searing look.

Stan opens his mouth, still grinning, and Ford cuts him off instantly. “Actually forget that, I know you’re not,” he says. “You never are.”

Then he turns his attention to you.

You’re trying very hard not to melt into a humiliated puddle on the floor and under his gaze you feel yourself slip just a little further down into your seat.

His gaze softens somewhat, almost sympathetic, and he gestures vaguely towards the front door down the hall. “If you're not too busy being harassed, I'm ready to set off,” he says.

You really rather wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right now, but alas, you do need those stupid mushrooms…..

“Sure,” you say faintly, scrambling up from your seat.

Ford heads off towards the foyer and you try to compose yourself with a deep breath before you follow him, glancing back to stick your tongue out at Stan again.

Stanley laughs at your awkwardness and as you hurriedly trot towards the hall, he pretends to fan himself dramatically.

“Three bags full, Doctor Pines,” Stan grins, and then you're shutting the kitchen door on him before you put your job on the line with the insult you're lining up in your head.

Stan thinks he's endlessly funny when it comes to winding you up over Ford and if you show how much he gets under your skin with it, he'll only get worse. You think he might be doing it in the hopes of putting you off his brother, but he’ll need to try a lot harder than that.

Instead of encouraging him, you follow in Ford's footsteps down the short, oak panelled hallway until you reach the front door.

Ford has already donned his reliable tan trench coat, patiently waiting for you to pull your own jacket and boots on. So much of the town is woven between the forest that you practically live in hiking shoes these days and it doesn't take you long to be readily dressed and warm.

Once you’re sorted, Ford swings the heavy oak front door open. A well-timed gust of cool wind blusters in as he does so, ruffling your clothes and hair, and instantly you realise the weather is much more intimidating when face to face with it.

It's incredibly dull out here. In the short time that Ford and Dipper have ended their routine and you've packed your things up, the sky has gotten impossibly darker. The winds must have herded more clouds overhead than you’d realised and the light has faded so much that you'd be forgiven for assuming it to be almost night time. When you check your watch, however, it still reads barely 6PM.

Ford must catch the concern on your face because he picks up on your worry straight away. “It's just overcast,” he reassures you. “I’ve seen plenty of storms like this in the time I’ve lived here. We'll have enough time to make it there and back before it gets too dark, and I brought torches as a precaution.”

That makes you feel a little better, at least. You know he’s an experienced outdoorsman and he’d probably be able to find his way around here blindfolded and hogtied. If you have to go out in risky weather with anyone, Ford is your best bet.

With the stride of a uniquely confident man, Ford steps out into the evening with a sharp breath inward and a contented sigh, taking in the awaiting scent of petrichor. He holds the door open for you with one hand and gestures for you to follow with the other, offering you a rakish grin.

“Shall we?”

And when he smiles at you like that, what choice do you have?

A/N: Yay! You made it to the end!

So firstly, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to post another work! These take a bit of time for me to write because I tend to write the entire work in one go from start to finish before I begin posting and I've also been unwell/busy, so it took a backseat for a bit but here we are!

Secondly, as I posted at the start, this is going to be a small series and will start as a decently sized multi-chapter fic. There will be smut and I already have most of it written. Your patience will be rewarded!

Please consider supporting me on ao3 also :)

[hell-is-not-an-excuse]

Helluva Boss versus Achillean Relationships || Chaxxie [1/3]

Let me preface this by saying that I know I'm not the first person to point this out, and I certainly won't be the last. However, it's something that's been tugging at me for a while now. That "something" of course, being the portrayal of MLM/achillean relationships within the Hellaverse, and how they're favoured over everything while bordering into the fetishistic.

I'm going to be the first to admit I have not watched the entirety of Hazbin Hotel. Hell, I made it to the first five or so minutes of the first episode before unceremoniously quitting around the "this body was made to be exploited" line. I'll have a separate post on that later, since my thoughts on that (and Angel Dust as a character, by extension) are long winded and not the focus of this particular post.

So, for today, I will be focusing on one of the three canon MLM ships within Helluva Boss specifically. For the purpose of this post series, I will only be including the ships that have two characters that are named within the series. This narrows us down to Chaxxie, Fizzozzie and Stolitz (which is not technically canon but is clearly endgame, unless the writers are waiting with bated breath to pull the rug out from underneath the audience).

This time I will be talking about Chaxxie, as it's the least touched-upon relationship in the show itself; not only because it's the only past relationship on this list, but it's also the only relationship that contains a one-off character. And yet, I found the lack of chemistry so offensively boring that I felt the need to make a whole post just about them.

So, Chaxxie. There's not a whole lot to talk about with their relationship, as all we get is just over a minute of backstory and a song that screams "unable to take no for an answer". I suppose I could also include their sham almost-wedding, but that comes off less as a shipping moment and more a plot beat, and thus will be disregarded. Even so, I apparently had way more to say about them and the implications of their relationship than I thought, so this post will be long.

Before that however, there's the obvious elephant in the room - Chaz and Millie. Despite being the ex of both Millie and Moxxie, we as the audience never get a perspective of what the relationship between Millie and Chaz even looked like. Not even a throwaway line from Millie herself. Given that Helluva Boss has suffered from a lack of precise characterising of its women up until this point, this is another glaring example to add to the long-suffering pattern.

But what about Moxxie? What do we get as the audience?

In the first of two flashback scenes, we're informed that Chaz and Moxxie meet during Moxxie's induction into the Knolastname crime family. They meet eyes, and Moxxie is charmed right off the bat.

This springboards us into four different instances of the supposed chemistry that these two share with one another, the first being a gunfight in which Moxxie and Chaz reach for the same grenade, with all the flirtation and blushing that could be fit into the few seconds allotted for this sequence.

From there, the sexual intensity ramps up in the next two shots before settling back down into a nude portrait scene reminiscent of Titanic.

In terms of learning about their relationship, we as the audience don't glean much from these scenes, other than the fact that they have an incredibly sexual dynamic. One could also infer that their relationship started as a secret given the request to not tell Crimson that Chaz was at the door in the signage scene, though this is never properly expanded on.

Now, before we venture into the second half of my Chaxxie critique, I want to make two things clear; there is nothing wrong with a couple having an incredibly active sex life. This is true for any pairing with consenting adults, be it Achillean, Sapphic or Hetero. This is something I will expand on momentarily. Second is that despite my griping of the overtly sexual nature of their relationship, I don't find these examples to be "too sexual". By all means, this is quite tame imagery, at least to me. I bring these examples up primarily to highlight that Chaxxie as a ship suffers from sacrificing chemistry for sexuality (whether that be in a manner meant to be comedic, or genuinely sexy).

Back to our flashbacks. In our second and final flashback scene, we are given the unceremonious ending to their relationship. In the midst of a heist, Moxxie is pinned and unable to escape the scene of the crime, as police sirens wail in the distance. Chaz, in a selfish move, makes a grab for the money and leaves Moxxie to the authorities, effectively ending their relationship. This is presented as a great heartbreak for Moxxie, but due to the issues highlighted above, this reveal falls flat.

Moxxie doesn't appear to struggle with feelings of self-worth in the romantic department; this is evident in the way he interacts with Millie, self-assured in his love for her and her love for him. One would think that if this relationship with Chaz was so important to him, that there would be some sort of foreshadowing or hints regarding the feelings or issues that would have been bound to have sprung up as a result of Chaz and his abandonment.

I will concede here, Moxxie not wanting to talk about his past is a fine enough example of why Chaz wouldn't come up in conversation prior to this episode. However, if we as the audience are meant to believe that this relationship was that important to him, it would have been nice to add a hint of abandonment issues to Moxxie as a character.

This could also have had a possible added effect of explaining why Moxxie isn't so quick to leave Blitzø or I.M.P despite his treatment - Blitzø and Loona may be awful to Moxxie, but at least they don't abandon him. At least Blitzø throws crumbs of praise his way. At least Loona comes along with Millie to rescue him and Blitzø from the D.H.O.R.K.S.

Unfortunately, we're still not done here with the Chaxxie scenes, as the biggest and most glaring issue with this ship as a whole comes in at around the fifteen minute mark.

I'll start with the least consequential of my critiques - This scene is just not funny. The punchlines essentially amount to sex, big dick, and the mounting discomfort that Moxxie feels while he repeatedly insists that Chaz leave him alone. There are ways to comedically write a character being uncomfortable with sex or sexual implications/situations. Blatant harassment is not one of them.

Speaking of blatant harassment, this is the moment that any semblance of this ship being worth my time fell apart. The writing is done using Chaxxie as a ham-fisted attempt at giving Moxxie further backstory (at the cost of Millie once again) and is now beginning to decline into the outright uncomfortable.

Even before he begins his song, Moxxie outright tells Chaz to leave. Of course, Chaz completely disregards his demands to be left alone, insisting that he knows exactly what Moxxie wants. This is a common line used by real life sexual abusers against their victims - and yes, though Chaz never actually forces himself onto Moxxie in an explicit manner, his following song is filled with unwanted touch and crude, overtly sexual language.

Look me in the eyes and tell me that Moxxie is enjoying this experience even remotely. He looks put off, alarmed, uncomfortable. And yet this scene is played for comedy, for some reason. This is not the first instance of Moxxie being sexually abused or harassed for comedy either. Even back in Season One, this poor guy was being used for the sort of joke that should have died out years ago.

Overall thoughts on Chaxxie and their contribution to MLM representation.

Do I think Chaz and Moxxie are good queer representation? The easy, fast answer is a resounding "No". Their relationship lacks any sort of depth in canon and looks to be just another vehicle for gay sex jokes, partnered with yet another excuse to harass Moxxie for laughs.

On a slightly longer note, I find them not only to be lackluster representation, but yet another instance in the growing pattern of Vivziepop's achillean ships being either based on sex, or having a heavy emphasis on sex that isn't afforded to her sapphic or hetero pairings. This isn't to say that the other achillean ships don't have moments that are fluffier or not purely focused on sex (after all, Chaxxie is the worst offender of being a pairing based on nothing but sex from a writing standpoint), but the discrepancy between the amount of sex talk from Chaggie and Millie/Moxxie as compared to Fizzozzie, Stolitz and Chaxxie is stark.

It's hard to say exactly what goes on in the heads of the writers, and I am not here to speculate on what they may be thinking at all times. However, the writing behind Chaxxie as a pairing specifically (in the past or not) leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The inclusion of Chaz does nothing to further Moxxie's character and seems more like a segue into making his bisexuality explicit, rather than taking the time to explore his attraction to men and past relationships meaningfully. Their past relationship is shallow at best, giving me no real reason to care about its end, and does a disservice to the already limited representation in Helluva Boss by painting yet another portrait of a lustful, but ultimately loveless feeling relationship.

[chaifootsteps]

strap in, this one's a long post

I had an idea of how they could fix Millie that would make her more interesting without stapling an angsty backstory onto her:

Have her marriage with Moxxie go into a bumpy patch or fall apart completely.

It's kind of a throwaway line, but Millie in Unhappy Campers points out that she's let down that Moxxie hasn't supported her half as much as she's supported him that week. She went with his stupid idea to investigate even though she spotted the guilty party immediately and she tried to help him befriend the teenagers just because his ego was hurt. And that's been their dynamic consistently throughout the show - Moxxie is the neurotic one, the one who needs reassurance and is insecure. Short of having her tell Blitzo to knock it off when he's mean to Moxxie (and he is their boss) I don't think Moxxie could ask for a more supportive wife.

So have that evolve into the problem. Have Millie have some minor frustrations that Moxxie doesn't notice or support her with, but she's constantly supporting his attempts to become a better assassin and impress her parents/Blitzo. Have Moxxie be good at romantic gestures and dates but not the emotional work of being there for her since he's always preoccupied with his own problems. Have Millie be frustrated not just with him but everyone assuming that they're just this effortlessly perfect couple and that she has no problems of her own, even though she's the one carrying a lot of the team's weight on assassinations if Blitzo and Moxxie mess up.

Have it get worse when Millie does get another external stressor - maybe she has an argument with Sallie Mae or her siblings, maybe her parents get sick or something goes sideways with the farm and she can't just go home. And right when she needs Moxxie to actually pick up some of the slack at work or at home, he isn't there for her because he's too distracted by issue of his own that's much smaller by comparison but Moxxie blowing it out of proportion gives Millie another thing to be stressed with.

Right before they have a massive fight, the relationship stresses can work in to the stol1tz plotline. Maybe explain Millie isn't as mad at Moxxie at Blitzo intruding in their relationship because she realizes he just wants what they have and can't admit it. But have Millie simultaneously start to project her own relationship problems onto Blitzo/Stolas. At first it's just the surface level similarities - Moxxie is more of a sophisticate who likes musicals and opera, just like the educated Stolas. But then she starts to see that both Stolas and Moxxie have the trait of being sweet on the surface but being all take and no give, then sensitive enough to make everyone assume Millie is the one blowing up for no reason (Moxxie does this by accident where Stolas does it habitually, of course). This actually gives Millie's relationship with Blitzo some texture, since he's trying his best to get M&M to make up because he thinks they're perfect and Millie keeps getting frustrated trying to get Blitzo to see that she's not what he's projecting onto her.

It's when she tells him all the issues with her family and how she can't deal with Moxxie's issues on top of it and she feels like she's drowing alone that it clicks for Blitzo, because that's exactly what he's going through with Stolas, who expects Blitzo to rescue him from his own problems and fulfil his romantic fantasies at all hours of the day. But it terrifies him too because if relatively nice demons like M&M can't make it work, what chance does he have?

Use this to inform her relationship with Loona, too. Without Millie there the office falls into nonstop tension. The writers said Millie is the heart - use her absence to actually show it, because everyone is just fighting constantly and there's no one to right the ship.

Maybe also interrogate the other pillars of Millie's identity. She seems self-actualised, so instead of giving her angst attack the things that makes her sure of herself. Maybe when her marriage begins to struggle her family uses it as an excuse to attack her choice of husband and her "freelance" work. Millie feels like she's failed leaving home, she should have never left the farm. She has to define herself outside of Moxxie and her job. She has to figure out a source of strength within herself. And have Sallie Mae, the one who complained about missing her, be the one to encourage to go out and look because she loves Millie selflessly enough to know she belongs in the city and wants more than staying in the Wrath ring.

And since Moxxie isn't Stolas, have him wise up, apologize and actually change to support her more and help her through whatever the challenge is she's facing. He doesn't immediately get more confident but he stops using Millie as his go-to fix and pick me up for all his problems, especially the little ones. Then they get back together just in time for a second anniversary, with the punchline being them expecting Blitzo to crash their next date - except he doesn't. Because he's learnt better than to keep doing it, and he knows he needs to work on his own relationships. But in his case, he'll soon realize when he tries to make things up with Stolas that Stolas is not Moxxie, and he should just leave since nothing short of being a slave to Stolas' every whim will be good enough. That way the show displays how love is worth fighting for with M&M, but not when abuse is involved.

I love everything about this. The character development all around, Moxxie and Millie growing as people, Blitzo growing as a person and realizing he deserves better than Stolas...even Sallie Mae gets something real and substantial to do! It's everything this show should have been!

[sherlokiness]

Jonsa as the last card

Not to sound delusional but I think jonsa is GRRM's trump card in the books. We were never meant to have them in the show. The author has got to have an ace up his sleeves, right? What convinces me of this is the changed dialogue between Arya and Ned during the 1st season. The book goes "You will marry a King..." to which Arya replies "No, that's Sansa" while the show's version was "You will marry a lord..." to which Arya says "No, that's not me."

Some say this was just a leftover hint from the og outline bc why would Ned say Arya will marry a King? There can only be one and Joffrey is already betrothed to Sansa. Well ofc I'd beg to differ. It'll be abandoned foreshadowing if one disregards Arya's response. Did you know that Abraham Daniel who adapted GRRM's graphic novel wanted to change what he deemed to be a throwaway line but GRRM refused bc it was a clue to suggest the endgame in ADoS?

There was one scene I had to rework because there's a particular line of dialog -- and you wouldn't know it to look at -- that's important in the last scene of "A Dream of Spring."

I have a meta about this but the link has been lost to time. 💀 So it's part of a dialog, inconspicuous, and should be before ACoK since only AGoT adaptation has been confirmed by that time.

The show had to rewrite it to make sense bc even so many readers found it perplexing but the comics had it exactly right.Look, it even has Arya winking perhaps as a nod to the audience.

"Not all," said Jaime. "Lord Eddard's daughters live. One has just been wed. The other …" Brienne, where are you? Have you found her? "… if the gods are good, she'll forget she was a Stark. She'll wed some burly blacksmith or fat-faced innkeep, fill his house with children, and never need to fear that some knight might come along to smash their heads against a wall."

I believe this is a nod by the author to make us think of the "No, that's Sansa" line bc here it's Arya who knows Gendry and Hotpie. If we take Jamie's line to be the opposite, can we infer that Sansa will never forget she's a Stark? Moreover,she will not marry a nobody and always need to fear her children will end up like Aegon- Rhaegar's heir.

If Arya's line comes true then the last scene will be of Sansa and Jon with their children. My ideal would be Sansa singing a lullaby to her baby with Jon by her side. It's a callback to the end of the first book's "music of dragons" where music refers to cries of newly hatched dragons. It also makes us think of Jon's memory of Sansa before his death.

I'm not saying the baby's lullaby is the song of ice and fire but...🫣🫣🫣 Baby+Song+Couple of a Stark and Targ