#Greetings Adventurer! Do you know about The One Character You May Not Fuck

[nostalgia-tblr]

okay sorry to be a judgey bitch about literally everything (she lied) but i am halfway through the night manager and the plot of this episode seems to be that Blond Loki is being kept on an island for no obvious reason (possibly as a living sex doll?) and he wanders it meeting people who just instantly start explaining part of the plot to him. like this woman:

This is literally the first conversation I remember these characters having and this is the first topic she goes for. WTF. And I don't know what happens after this but if they AREN'T all playing a weird mindgame where they're all feeding him lies I will be disappointed as this is like watching someone play one of those video games where you have to go up to every NPC and ask them for a sidequest and/or plot info. There's a scene where a literal child starts expositing about secret rooms in the house and the magical items he'd need to find to access them to get to the portal to Hyrule.

I don't understand this, it is very odd. But this is the pattern so far, and sometimes the other characters are expositing because they want to fuck him (see above re: sex doll theory) but I don't think that's officially the plot. Is Hugh Laurie keeping him as a pet?

I do think maybe the Evil Gay Guy (so far the most entertaining character and therefore the best one) might be messing with him, otherwise it is hard to explain why you would approach a man, tell him not to fuck one specific woman, and then go back to the shop where you sell potions to plucky adventurers. I mean why would you do that unless you were trying to get him to fuck that one specific woman?

One of the amusing mini-games in this RPG is called "Who Is He Going To Fuck Next?"

(This is a different woman. She is not specific and so I assume she is on the 'fuckable' list.)

After I took that screenshot she asked why Hugh Laurie was keeping him on the island of fuckable NPC quest-givers. Blond Loki said he doesn't know. I don't know either. But it's okay, she has more information about the plot to share with him.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asks. IT'S HER JOB, BLOND LOKI, DON'T MAKE HER QUESTION HER ROLE IN THIS GAME >:( SHE WILL BECOME SENTIENT LIKE IN THAT EPISODE OF STAR TREK.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Gray Woman 3

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You meet a man who tests your patience. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: To those who didn’t help me resist this beast, I blame you.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Just the wine, thanks,” you tap your card on the edge of the lane counter mindlessly. The cashier rings through your single bottle and sends it down the next conveyor. You tap and the machine chirps. “Have a good day.” 

You take your receipt as the woman on the other side of the counter greets her next customer. You do your best to make yourself as little as a nuisance as you can when you switch roles. It saves everyone a whole lot of trouble. 

You go to grab your wine but it’s plucked up beyond your grasp. You keep your arm outstretched before you recoil it, staring at the stranger as he reads the label. You swallow and take a breath. You don’t have a window between you or a security button on a desk. It’s different when you’re out in the world. More dangerous, less orderly. 

“Excuse me, may I have my wine?” You ask flatly. 

The man clucks and tilts his head to look at you. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and smirks, turning to face you completely. He keeps the wine in his hand. His bristly mustache slants in amusement. 

“Let’s try again. ‘Mr. Hansen, may I have my wine?’” He outlines the words with a flutter of fingers. 

You squint and shake your head. “Do I know you?” 

His lips part as he stammers, “uh, yeah? You—from the bank—Jesus. Doesn’t matter.” 

You nod warily and reach for the bottle. You wrap your hand around the narrow neck but he refuses to let go. Instead, he steps back, drawing you with him as the next customer comes down the lane. You cling to your middle shelf purchase. 

“I know you fucking remember me. You’re just trying to piss me off because Ronnie isn’t here to lay down the law. Trust me, I can do it myself, sweat pea.” 

He glares down at you. He sure has a lot of anger. You’re not entirely sure what you did to him. Working with peoples’ money is not easy, for either party. It’s such a sensitive subject as it is. Still, you don’t remember doing anything so egregious as to earn the spite creasing between his brows. 

“Alright,” you pull on the bottle again. “I just... I can’t remember. Honest.” 

He grips the bottle even tight. His large hand easily clings to the full belly. You sigh and let go. 

“Fine, it’s cheap wine anyway,” you shrug. You’re growing uneasy with this man. Not only is he aggressive but he’s much bigger than you. 

You let go and spin, striding away as you shake of your disappointment and the trickle of nerves. As the automatic door slides open at your approach, you hear a pursuit. You’re not sure if it’s him but you refuse to look back. You only speed up. 

“Hey, I don’t want your fucking wine,” he catches up to you as you come outside. 

You don’t stop. You step off the curb and keep your head straight. You deal with the erratic passengers on the subway, you can handle some stuck-up jerk made about a bank fee. 

“Would you stop? Hey, I’m trying to have a conversation here,” he huffs. You keep going. “Hey!” He grabs your arm and reels you back to face him, standing just behind a parked car. “Do I need to show my ID to have a fucking chat?” 

You blink at him and scour your mind. Mustache, demanding, intolerable. You think you remember now. He’s the one who refuse to show his ID. You glance back at the grocery marquee and your lips thin. As a black card holder, you don’t expect him to be shopping at a bargain grocery. 

“Can I help you?” You face him. 

His cheek twitches, “relax, darling, we’re not at the fucking bank.” 

You consider him, eyes darting as you search for some sense in all of this, “uh huh. So...” 

“Do you just not turn it off or are you really a bitch?” He sneers. 

You shrug, “guess I'm a bitch.” 

You look at his hand on your arm and yank away. You once more turn to strut off and he snorts. Once more, he has your wrist but you try to ignore him. Try to snatch it free as you refuse to turn back. He’s too strong. 

For as long as you’ve had the canister in your purse, you don’t relish using it. You wonder if it’s expired. You reach into your open purse, dangling by your hip and turn. Before can speak, you raise the nozzle at him and press down. The coyote spray scours his eyes and he recoils. 

The bottle of wine smashes at his feet and the staggers, stomping as he wipes his eyes desperately. He whines and wheezes, coughing through the cloud of spray. You back up to keep free of it. You allow a single second to mourn the pinot then scurry away. His anguished moans fade away as you dip around another car. 

You head down to the subway and wait on the ramp, looking back and forth over your shoulders. You’re certain he didn’t follow you, that he couldn’t see enough to do so, but still, you’re addled. The city isn’t the place to take chances. 

All you wanted was a drink or too. You planned on nursing that bottle over a few nights. The bank’s been so hectic, just the thought of getting up to go back has been keeping you awake. Well, a few chapters of your latest read will put you to sleep. 

You board and find a seat near the doors. You make yourself as small as you can as you hug your purse. You’re agitated. You can smell the spray on your fingers. What an asshole. He didn’t just waste your wine, he ruined your night. 

[greatwyrmgold]

Another "The Problem of Susan" post

As you may know:

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was not a standalone book. There were seven books in the series, each with more Christian allegory than the last.

(Or maybe it's not allegory? Apparently C.S. Lewis has said that Aslan is literally Jesus, so maybe it's all literally just Christianity.)

The series stars the four Pevensie siblings who show up in most of the books—Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. They're absent from The Silver Chair and The Magician's Nephew, but all appear together in the other five books, with one exception.

The last book, called The Last Battle, features Peter, Edmund, and Lucy, but not Susan. Not only does Susan not appear, she's mentioned exactly once:

"Sir," said Tirian, when he had greeted all these. "If I have read the chronicles aright, there should be another. Has not your Majesty two sisters? Where is Queen Susan?" "My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia." "Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'" "Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up." "Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can." "Well, don't let's talk about that now," said Peter. "Look! Here are lovely fruit trees. Let us taste them."

(Oh yeah, the kids were kinds and queens of Narnia for a few decades when they were kids. Don't think about it too much.)

The Problem of Susan gets even worse because right at the end of the book, Aslan reveals that the Pevensies, their parents, and other Earth-humans who went to Narnia (like the Eustace and Polly mentioned above) died right before coming to Narnia this last time. And now that the Book of Revelations is done, they will live forever in "the true Narnia," which is either an allegory for Revelation's New Jerusalem or literally heaven, I'm not sure which.

Susan is still not there.

So, the first part of the Problem of Susan is that a formerly major character—one that many young fans of the series felt attached to—who gets all but dropped from the finale. This is particularly egregious, since—this is a direct quote— "Everyone you had ever heard of (if you knew the history of those countries) seemed to be there" by the end. Every character from the entire series, from Mr. Tumnus the faun to that cab driver who became the first King of Narnia, it makes sense in context.

But not Susan.

And I guess that makes sense in context, too; she's not dead. But C.S. Lewis wrote the context. It was C.S. Lewis's decision to kill off the other Pevensies, and C.S. Lewis's decision to keep Susan out of this last adventure.

Christian Apologetics, for Kids!

I've seen three common responses to The Problem of Susan from overly-protective fans of the series.

The first is, perhaps unsurprisingly, just a remix of shit fundamentalist Christians say about Heaven and Hell. Just as agnostics will burn in the fires of hell for their ambiguous faith, so Susan will be barred from "the true Narnia" for being less allegorically(?) pious than her siblings.

Speaking as an ex-Christian, I could write a whole series of posts about why that's fucked-up and wrong. But I will instead remain on topic and recommend you read basically any atheist blog from the early '10s; that eternal damnation/salvation shit is low-hanging fruit for guys who want to make fun of fundies.

Second, you have people who see Susan as materialistic, caring so much about "nylons and lipstick and invitations." First off, nothing in the text suggests she was maliciously materialistic, or greedy, or anything else that would merit getting kicked out of Narnia. Second, the text just...does not support this reading. Susan's sin isn't greed, it's growing up too fast.

Third are the people who agree with the text; Susan "always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up." This has textual support, and not just from the one page in The Last Battle that mentions her. The problem is, of course, that this isn't a sin worthy of punishment either.

(Zeroth: Susan spent decades as a queen of Narnia, but since because the books want us to think that that wouldn't have any real impact on the kids, we will continue not thinking about it too much.)

With that out of the way: Wanting to be older than you are is fine, wanting to be younger than you are is fine, wanting to be the age you are is great. There is nothing inherently wrong with either wanting to be treated as a grown-up or seeking the joy of youth. It can lead to bad behavior, but none of that is described in the actual text of The Last Battle.

Susan is described as misremembering the fantastical adventures the Pevensies had as children, and wanting to be a young adult for as long as possible. Who. Cares.

It seems like C.S. Lewis puts an unreasonably high premium on the innocence of childhood. (This has what I consider to be unfortunate implications when combined with his advocacy of blind faith in The Silver Chair, but that's a topic for another ramble.) This is, I feel, ridiculous. It's fine to seek the joy of youth, but to treat losing that joy as some kind of mortal sin is absurd! Treating the loss of innocence as an inevitable tragedy is one thing; treating it as something worth punishing a kid for if they stumble into it too quickly is horrific.

(And it's really hard to not think about that time Susan was a literal monarch. Well, there were four of them, so I guess she was more of a tetrarch? Whatever.)

Anyways. The fourth response is to point to things C.S. Lewis said after publishing The Last Battle. And I'm going to discuss that.

Contrite-over-Susan Lewis

Unfortunately, I can't find the actual quotes by C.S. Lewis, not in the time I'm willing to spend researching a Tumblr post about a book that was old when my parents were young. But C.S. Lewis has acknowledged the problem of Susan.

The gist of what he said is that he's not happy that Susan's story is incomplete, but writing her redemption arc would put the story into a whole different genre, and that's no good.

My first problem is, of course, the idea that Susan needed to change to be worthy of Narnia. So what if she was always the most skeptical Pevensie? So what if she wanted to grow up? So what if she likes nylons and lipstick and invitations? If the Susan we see in the other books isn't worthy of the true Narnia, that's Lewis's problem, not Susan's.

The second is that C.S. Lewis never wrote that book. Lewis would say that it's out of step with the rest of the series, that the tone would be off, but so is The Last Battle to anyone not drowning in Armageddon-lust. And it's not like character arcs are foreign to the series, either. There are plenty of examples of kids from our Earth going to Narnia and having it change their worldview or attitude. They're mostly small subplots, but elevating a Susan character arc to a booklong undercurrent would not be that much of a divergence.

And even if Lewis committed himself to only writing seven books for numerological reasons—well, first off, he probably could have cut one of the other books. A Horse and his Boy is neat, but depicting the lives of ordinary Narnians during a dramatic time probably should have taken a back seat to a character arc you think is required for her to join the finale. Anyways, he could have written the Susan character arc as a subplot in Prince Caspian or Voyage of the Dawn Treader if he tried.

But he didn't try.

Conclusion

C.S. Lewis supposedly said that Susan was his favorite character, the one he saw the most of himself in. If true, that is not reflected in The Last Battle.

Lewis set some arbitrary conditions Susan would have to meet to join her siblings at the end—at the climax of the entire series, arguably the most important event in Narnian history since the world's creation. He then chose not to write anything that would let Susan meet those conditions, left her out of the last book, and left it ambiguous as to whether she'd ever see her siblings in paradise.

I don't think this would be quite so egregious if Susan was at least mentioned more. Again, Susan is never mentioned before Tirian asks where she is, nor after Peter decides to taste some fruit. She gets three and a half paragraphs where her brother and "friends" bitch about her, and that's that. They make fun of her for growing up and liking nylons and lipstick, then they decide to eat fruit, end of chapter, end of Susan.

It's like the characters don't give a shit about Susan. They're not angry, they're not disappointed, they're not confused. They state a few things about Susan when directly asked, then move on, like these are just facts about some fictional character and not the reasons they're estranged from a sibling or longtime friend. Heck, the younger Pevensies don't even bother to speak up! They don't care!

And if the characters don't care about the formerly important character—important both to the story and, more importantly, to them—why should I think the author did?

[lily-alphonse]

what if... shane and mr. qi

Bro what 😭 I know absolutely nothing about Mr. Qi. BUT I have like 2 or 3 more asks with him in it so it looks like Im gonna have to build a characterization for him real quick lol. I love him though. Love a weird little cryptid man and the fanart is so good.

What interest would he have in Shane I wonder? Maybe it's an AU where Shane is the one to take over the farm and everything so he's secretly special. OR... Mr. Qi just enjoys watching a dumpsterfire. There's no TLC in Stardew Valley so what better reality TV content than to watch the town drunk? Maybe even make things a little worse for him sometimes just for funsies.

You know how in the Sims, if you have an unlucky Sim they can cheat death because Grim either pities or is amused by their shenanigans? That's the dynamic I think. Shane is so unlucky that Qi finds him endearing over time.

Qi would start to leave notes for him, trying to send him on adventures or test him. Shane would have none of it, crumbling the weird notes and suspecting someone was playing some kind of prank on him. Qi gets annoyed about it. Enough to even reveal himself, but he picks (what may or may not be) the best time because Shane is so drunk he doesn't even care.

Mr. Qi almost blends into the darkness by the dock, except his cape shimmers with moonlight and catches Shane's eye. He approaches him when he's discovered.

"Shane," he says in greeting.

It makes Shane wonder if he knows him. Then he wonders if he should be worried about this random shady character approaching him. But he also looks kinda silly, a wide hat and sunglasses obscuring his face, and the most obvious answer is that he’s finally snapped.

Shane narrows his eyes at him, trying to decide what to name this odd figment of his imagination. "Mr..." he starts, and Mr. Qi is almost ready to be impressed until Shane settles on "Hat."

Qi isn't sure whether to laugh or disappear in a rage.

A sort of scoff comes out instead and he sits next to him on the dock. 

"Where did you come from?" Shane asks.

"I come from everywhere." 

"Figures," Shane mumbles into his beer can. He downs another drink. "You're not gonna be some kind of like... conscious that talks in riddles or something are you?"

It feels appropriate, almost making them equals, for Shane to see him as an imaginary friend. It makes up for the way Qi had started to see him as a pet. 

"Not a conscious, though I might speak in riddles occasionally."

“Dammit. Tracks I guess. Can never make sense of any of the shit up here,” he mumbles, gesturing to his head.

Qi had been planning to ask him about the notes, maybe even scare him a little. But here he was being handed the golden opportunity to see into Shane’s mind, and that was even better.

Actually, being an unknown, an enigma, had always been the goal. Short of that,he was forced to keep a carefully curated reputation of mystery, which was not at all the same. Meeting in this way turned out to be a blessing.

“Why do you think you’ve summoned me here?”

“I'm drunk.”

“I can see that.”

“I dunno, I'm pathetically lonely," he says with an exasperated sigh, "Obviously.”

Qi feels a twinge of something unnameable at that, though it's still pretty amusing. He likes the blunt way Shane speaks, especially when he puts himself down, its pure dark-comedy gold. It feels different when directed at him personally though. Like some long-dormant human urge within him makes his heart ache to match Shane’s.

“Are you?” he asks simply.

"D'you have eyes under there?" Shane slurs, looking at him more closely.

"Would you have made me without eyes?"

"Good point. The fuck are we talking about? Who are you?"

"Mr. Hat, apparently."

"Right."

Anyway, they continue to meet like this, with Mr. Qi as his supposed imaginary friend, and Mr. Qi begins to genuinely enjoy the connection they have because no one has ever treated him like this. Everyone he meets is intimidated by him, afraid of him, or looking to screw him over. And beyond that, when he was younger and more human, it was always people wanting to know him. Always so many questions.

His goal was always to be unknown.

He gets that with Shane, under the pretext that he does not exist. It’s freeing, and paradoxically allows him to open up. Any perceived oddity about him only gets turned into a reflection on the darkness in Shane’s mind. In this way, Shane might know him in a deeper sense than anyone else has in a long time. Plus, Qi doesn’t laugh this much with anyone else.  

Shane wants to be unknown too, in his own way. But he starts to hate himself a little less, after these late night talks to ‘himself’. Weirdly he starts drinking less and the hallucination stays. 

I think there would be quite a dramatic falling out when he finds out the truth, but in a way, Shane would also be relieved that this was a real person he could potentially be with.

This ask is a part of the (now closed) SDV Rarepair Challenge! Check out the other answers here, and make sure to boost your favorite so it can appear in the final fic poll! More info on that here.

[beesmygod]

JJBA PART 5, VENTO AUREO IS THE UNDERBAKED MESS I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT FIXING...PART 2

FIX 1: MORE KOICHI FOR THE MASSES

koichi! we love koichi, don't we folks? i know i do.

who's koichi? oh shit, that might be hard to explain.

pictured: koichi, in his dormant, yet most powerful, form.

if you DON'T recognize this little gremlin above, his appeal might be totally lost on you, and his appeal is necessary to understand if i'm going to convince you of what a fucking missed opportunity his narrative purpose could have been.

that's koichi hirose, the short king of morioh. i didnt think i would like him at all after realizing he was being set up as the deuteragonist and companion to the titular jojo of part 4, josuke. like, who the fuck was this little dork? get outta here! im here to see the joestars kidnap children and have homoerotic adventures. i am not here to be subjected to the trials and tribulations of a friendless, spineless, standless dipshit. i assumed he was going to be the designated joestar hypeman for the chapter, a role usually carved out for precocious children.

wrong! koichi gets hit with the stand arrow (the arrow the gives you stands, remember this) early on and gets dragged into a frightening battle of good versus evil right in his own backyard. the arrow and the responsibility that comes with it acts as the main catalyst for his transformation from nottie to hottie. in contrast to the bastardly joestars and their ilk, koichi is a genuinely kind, empathetic, and honest person; he's intended as a foil to the mischievous josuke. he brings to the table the platonic ideal of an every-man who rises gallantly to the challenges thrown at him because its the right thing to do. the series folds koichi as a main cast member to the point where he is one of the very few people on planet earth to draw a smile and praise out of jotaro kujo.

who's jotaro kujo? uhhh.

hmm. i'm getting to my point. but it might require a chart:

POINT: jotaro kujo, the man who probably has with the strongest stand in universe, who appears in 4 chapters out of a total of 9, and who is probably one of the most recognizable and beloved characters in manga history, trusts literally one person on the entire planet: koichi hirose.

SO:

when koichi shows up in part 5 right from the jump to act as the part 4 connective tissue, there is absolutely no reason why he can't stick around for longer than he does canonically so that he can satisfyingly fulfill his role as official vibe checker. let him be important!

---

oh my god, i can hear jojo fans groaning as they scroll through all that shit. so what?! did you make me read all that just to say "there should have been more koichi?!"

look, i need to make sure "we're" all on the same page and understand the perspective i'm coming from. "we", in this case, being the audience of both jojo fans this is primarily aimed at and fandom rubberneckers (greetings friends) who shouldn't have to comb a wiki exhaustively to decode my unhinged ramblings. it's essential background info that koichi is a fan favorite both in canon and in fandom. we gotta understand the role he wound up playing in the overarching struggle of good versus evil in his hometown to understand his narrative role in part 5.

YES. there SHOULD have been more koichi! but not just because we like to see him! he provides an established, trusted moral backbone for the audience. his reputation as a reliable guy is such that jotaro sends him on his own to investigate a young man who may be related to the dreaded bisexual nemesis of the joestar bloodline, dio brando. this is a big fucking deal. if dio has a kid that's really bad. how many backup plans did this guy have (answer: dude you have no idea).

---

ugh! part 5 koichi! if you really want to scream look up how he looks in the rohan spin off series.

in ep 1 of the "golden wind", koichi arrives in italy looking for our new jojo, giorno giovanna (who sucks, but that's a whole kettle of fish we can only barely touch on now). koichi, who has the street sense of one of those dogs that gets carried around in a luxury purse, instantly gets robbed by petty street criminal giorno in a rare burst of personality never seen again after this initial story-line.

okay whatever. after skipping a few eps, giorno and koichi team up to defeat the first stand together after drawing its ire during giorno's weird mafia test. the stand, black sabbath, stabs its victims with a stand arrow (the arrow that gives stands), causing them to either die or gain powers. this might be controversial, but its my personal opinion that its probably not good for a mafia to have a factory that creates jerks with super powers and its right to try to shut that down. after the fight, giorno reveals his dream to koichi of joining the mafia with the explicit purpose of reforming it from within. koichi promises not to report to jotaro about the fact that there's ANOTHER STAND ARROW until after giorno is initiated into the gang. god. jesus christ.

first of all, this GANG-STAR thing is the silliest shit anyone has ever heard. this is literally his for real goal throughout the entire story-line. which could have been great! but people within the fiction should react to this like hes telling them he's going to invent the first bicycle for fish instead of looking at him with the kind of wonder and glory you reserve for jesus christ himself. this train of thought leads to too many thoughts about giorno's lack of personality, so let's set it aside for now. i think giorno should maintain this insane goal, but he should actively have to convince people that he is capable of doing something that fucking nuts.

second, no way would koichi agrees to this absolutely braindead truce lol. koichi doesn't know giorno from adam; the sense we're supposed to get is that koichi innately senses that he's a good guy from his little speech and we, the audience, are supposed to take his word for it. but there is nothing convincing or authentic in how the situation plays out. there's a level of naivety/stupidity applied to the characters involved for this situation to work at all: i dont know why telling jotaro in florida that there's a stand arrow in italy would impact giorno's mafia standing at all. especially considering the arrow breaks and no longer functions shortly after giorno's initiation. koichi should find giorno's dreams and desires spurious and continue his investigation for jotaro, both to impress him and because its the right thing to do. he should also be like "heh, i took care of a stand arrow for you mister kujo". let him have another win. fuck it. why not.

third, koichi doesn't know that the stand arrow is destroyed and i have a hard time believing that he, a victim of said arrow, would do anything other than raise serious alarms over the proliferation of objectively evil stand users in italy where dio's son coincidentally happens to live. the following arc in which giorno and his new team mates go on a hunt for a hidden treasure should have been a series of demonstrations to koichi that italy was being cleaned up by a joestar (as opposed to the danger of being exploited by a brando) and was ultimately in good hands. this would require giorno to get some wins in during this time so he would actually have to do something for a change.

keeping koichi around long past where he does in canon could and should have given giorno a chance to demonstrate a different form of heroism to contrast the pure-hearted pursuit of justice championed by koichi. in eventually winning over a familiar and trustworthy character, giorno would have proved himself to be more than just "dio's son", a fact which should have hung over this part like a dark cloud.

but that's. that's next time.

[the-gayest-show]

TGAMM Analysis: The Ghost IS Molly McGee/All in the Mind (Pt 2)

spoiler warning for the s2 finale as well, this part was my fav to write

All In The Mind

This episode covers one of the main arcs in this season: Scratch remembering his past. This is something hinted in episode 5b (Soda To Remember) and now this episode is a culmination of sorts. Another stepping stone, if you will.

In this episode, scratch is VERY bubbly in appearance (almost like a soda...) and he goes to the ghost doctor to try and get it fixed. She essentially tells him that it's psychosomatic (the problem is in his mind) and that to fix it, they need to get into the brain to find out what's really going on. This scenario is already intriguing for 2 reasons: 1)The bubbling is almost like that of a soda, as Molly remarks. This can be related back to episode 5B, where we get a scene where Scratch's memories are triggered via strawberry soda, and 2) It offers us, the audience, the opportunity to dive into Scratch's head and possibly get more knowledge of who he really was.

Next, we find out there's a secret book of rare chairman curses (which literally never showed up again afterwards, curse you Disney for canceling the potential 3rd season!!!), and that's how we get a portal into Scratch's mind. 

Now, Scratch's mindscape as shown in this episode is something I've always wondered about since my first watch of this episode. It has multiple layers to it, like a cake (sort of). The finale (curse you disney x2!!! we could have had a 3rd season but yall mucked it up! the script ideas the staff revealed were so good! fuck you!) shows us who Scratch was for real, and now that we know that Scratch was, it changes everything (not even this episode, but every episode but that's a larger conversation).

This episode has 3 layers, and three things Scratch must do to get to the next layer. Below is a list.

Layer 1: Molly's House. I like a lot about this layer; it shows us what I call the afterlife part of him, before he "died". This is his essential personality right now as of current, and it's lovely to see that he cares for the McGees so much that they've become in his subconscious. What's also interesting is that we're introduced to a monkey character who will follow the pair of protags around for the rest of the episode, but that's not important right now. This part of the episode also comes with the mandatory one song per segment, and this song is in my top 5 for sure! Ashley Burch (Molly) is SO good at singing and we hear a few bars from Dana Snyder (Scratch) too! This song is SO catchy and I've looped it several times! In order to beat it, Scratch has to be willing to open up a bit about his house (it probably had the soda? but I dunno), and we find a sticker on the door of his house, and opening the door leads us to...

Layer 2: this is the deeper stuff. We are greeted with a cardboard boat sitting in a bottle of Surly Sid's Strawberry Soda. The boat represents Scratch's inner desire for travel to a certain extent, but it also represents, as Molly states in this episode, that he is emotionally adrift, and that he's bottling up his feelings, both of which are true. The boat also represents Scratch and Adia's times playing games from their cardboard boat, pretending to go on adventures. It cements the belief that between the time of episode 5B and 12B, he's been pushing down these memories. This is also a bit hinted in another episode (can't remember which off the top of my head) where instead of soda, he drinks some off-brand other stuff, probably due to a fear of remembering more/having to deal with whatever may come of it if he does drink more strawberry soda. The Surly Sid's Soda is the exact brand of soda that triggered his memories, so that's why it's in the boat. To get to the next (and last) layer, Scratch has to stop repressing his feelings and admit how he feels. this causes the soda to bubble and take them down to the bottle cap of the soda, which is where the entrance to the last layer hides.

Layer 3: We start off with a suitcase, which eventually transforms into a large building. This is the final boss basically, where Scratch has to stop repressing the memories he gained from the soda and deal with them (thankfully, Molly is there to help!). The suitcase and the building both represent Scratch being very job-focused when he was still in his body so to speak, and the way he didn't want to quit. The finale also explains why he is very job-avoidant now, as he worked a lot when he was alive and went numb over it. In all of the entrances to the layers, there's a star sticker on them. This box also has a star on it, meaning Molly and Scratch need to open it in order to get out of his mind. The box quickly becomes lifted up by the building, signifying that subconsciously, Scratch is trying to avoid touching those memories. There's ladders for both of them to climb, but then there's a 2nd obstacle: remember that monkey who I mentioned earlier? He's now at the top of the building, throwing bananas down at our duo. Molly decides to ask Scratch what it is that he is repressing in the meanwhile, for Scratch to almost skirt the conversation, but at the mention of his past, the monkey pauses in throwing, implying his past was the thing he was repressing. Scratch goes to admit to Molly that he actually remembered something from the soda, but he was too afraid to tell Molly about it because the memories scared him, so he pushed them down. Molly comforts him by saying that she'll be there, no matter what, and that makes Scratch feel better enough to go look at the memories. Once they do, we are shown 2 scenes: one scene we'd seen in episode 5, where Adia was leaving in her moving truck, giving Scratch the soda and promising that "Every time we drink this soda, we'll think of each other. That way, I'll never forget you,  and you'll never forget me.", but the second one is new (something we the viewer haven't seen before). This one is a scene where young Scratch (who we vaguely see before the scene starts, back facing us) and a young Adia are in what is now Molly's room, playing in their cardboard boat. Adia shows Scratch all the places that they want to go to: The Eiffel Tower, the pyramids, and the tallest building in Chicago. In the finale, we see an adult Adia actually go to these places while Scratch doesn't. Anyway, once both memories are over, Scratch and Molly (in the present day) get teleported back to their room. Together, they sit and talk, and Molly reiterates that she's there for him no matter what, and Scratch says "I'd hate to not remember you", which is ironic because they end up separated in the series finale where Scratch loses his memories of Molly (*sob*). The episode ends (as all episodes in this show do) with an end card where Molly and Scratch sing "The Ghost and Molly McGee!", but this time it distorts and we see a bubble of Adia pop up into view. I don't entirely know what it means to be honest, but I felt it was worth mentioning.

In conclusion, I love this episode batch to BITS and rewatching this show is such a fun experience! This episode batch specifically is also gonna be my #1 favorite of all time, it's two episodes that are so good together! Who could ask for more?!

TGAMM Analysis: The Ghost IS Molly McGee/All in the Mind (Pt 1)

This was originally a thingy written for a mandatory film journal in my film class (where I essentially write long ass reviews of hyperfixation fuel and assigned movies) but oh no! my two favorite episodes!

Since tumblr has a text limit that is higher than the words i need to speak to get my point across, i'll be taking this into 2 posts which i'll combine thru reblogging

enjoy my first half of infodumping analysis/review!

The Ghost IS Molly McGee:

As an indulger of children's media, one thing lots of shows focused on fantasy/supernatural stuff like to do is a trope called the Body Swap. TGAMM has, in my opinion, the most unique take on it. Usually in Body Swapping, it's done to prove a point. Take The Owl House for example. It had a body swap episode which was the main trio swapping bodies because everyone thought they had it harder than the others in terms of living. Same could be said for other media with this trope, but TGAMM puts the loveliest spin on it. It makes the switch not to prove a point, but rather to mutually benefit each other.

The situation that the episode begins with has two sides. First, Scratch (being the Chairman of the Ghost World as of the s1 finale) is constantly annoying the Ghost Council (GC) with interrupting their work and eventually this leads to the GC going on strike. Since Scratch is lazy as all ever hell and the GC was essentially heavy loading his Chairman work for him, this is Scratch's side of the issue. Molly's side is that she has been selected to lead the school play, but can't seem to get everyone into line. It's like she herself says "I'm a encourager, Scratch, not a discourager!". Eventually the two of them decide to bodyswap (via wraithing molly and scratch possessing molly's soulless husk) to benefit each other (Molly is kind and supportive, Scratch is more negative and able to put his foot down), and they go on trying to solve their problems. At first, they each have success with the majority of the people in their respective locations (Possessed!Molly [actually Scratch] is a really good leader and leads the stage crew almost in a military way, while Possessed!Scratch [actually Molly] in the Ghost World goes on to convince 3 of the 4 GC members to forgive him/her/them [switching is hard to describe, stay with me here])

But there's one stickler that each of them have to face. Possessed!Molly has to deal with Georgie, who is supposed to be making a paper-mache costume for the play, but refuses to do so, despite Possessed!Molly's many attempts. Possessed!Scratch has to deal with Bart, one of the Ghost Council members who refuses to accept the apology no matter what form it comes in (food, cards, etc). This is essentially the driving force for the plot, we even get a solid song number out of it (crack an egg! gotta make or break! he's got anger and she's got cake!...)

Eventually, they both realize that they never actually asked said sticklers what the problem was that they had to begin with (aka. the message of this segment), and they both do that and listen to what the other has to say and it all works out. With Bart, he just wanted to be shown appreciation through real action and not through items, while Georgie wanted to be in the main role but she never is and thus she was upset about that. They both get what they want and that's the end!

Love the little thing at the end where when both Molly and Scratch watch Georgie perform and cringe so hard. LOL

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Best 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stomp up the porch steps as your dad rocks in the wooden chair, in his usual meditation over a can of Molson. He grunts in his way, acknowledging your return and you shoot back a sharp, ‘hey’. Inside, your mother crochets in front of a soap opera, not looking over as she clacks her needles together. You know better than to try to start a conversation during her programs.

You go to your room behind the stairs and keep yourself from slamming the door. Greta always knows how to ruin your day. She might be right about being your only friend but maybe it’s time to make new ones. This town isn’t just the two of you.

You flop onto your bed sideways and stare at the ceiling. You can’t let her spoil the whole day off. That’s bullshit. What’s the point of spending hours caring about her nonsense. Tomorrow, you’ll be back to cleaning up hotel rooms and wishing you could just lay in bed and do nothing.

You sit up and shake off your agitation. A thorn sticks in your side but you try to ignore it. You could work on your embroidery. The Summer Solstice is coming and you might just talk yourself into sharing a booth with Hilde again. You sold quite a few patches last year.

You pull out your sewing kit and the box of half-finished patches and make a nest on the floor. You turn on the old CD player and listen to the same disc you always do. You set to work as you try to tune out the world.

You poke through the patch and jab into your fingertip. Shit. You growl as you wish you could stab Greta in her stupid little eyes. She’s such a bitch. You hope she has fun with that pig. She’ll be right back at The Horn scavenging for one night stands.

You’re not judging her, you’re judging this place. There really isn’t much to choose from. It’s the exact reason you have a vibrator hidden under your mattress. You’ve seen the men around here and you’ve talked to their girlfriends and wives.

You blow a raspberry and suck on your fingertip. There’s still a hint of vanilla on your skin. You drop your hand and lean back against the dresser.

Something’s gotta give. You’re so fucking bored of this town. There’s nothing to do. Greta just wants to drink and fuck around. If that’s what she enjoys, power to her, but you’re about to glaze over. You want something, anything to change.

🍦

You yawn as you walk up Thunder Lane towards the B&B. Another shift, another dollar. It’s minimum wage but better than nothing. You don’t have the education or the experience to demand more. Besides, the Odinsons aren’t bad employers. Usually you get a free meal or two.

You enter through the front door and greet Darcy as she droops over her coffee. She chirps as she sits up, startled by your sudden appearance. She relaxes as she realises you aren’t a guest or her employer.

You stop by the breakfast bar to grab a cup of your own before you head down to the laundry. You’ll try to catch up on the towels before check-out begins. There aren’t too many of those anyhow. Not yet. Midsommar usually draws in the tourists as a sort of novelty.

You load a washer and set it to spin as you restart a dryer left full from the day before. You give it ten minutes to fluff the towels and start folding. You sip your coffee between towels, drinking it away from the so you don’t stain the pure white.

You load up the cart with fresh towels in preparation for your daily route around the hotel. As you bend to grab some extra wash clothes, you’re started by a deep hum. You stand up straight and turn to face Thor as he looms in the doorway. Gods, he scared the piss out of you. How can a man that big sneak around like a cat?

“I heard there was a broken machine,” he drawls as he leans his elbow on the doorframe.

“Uh, yeah, that one again,” you point to the corner as you add the washcloths to the cart. You feel him watching you still.

“Ah,” he clucks, “and how are you today, lady?”

“Eh, just another day,” you shrug. “You?”

“Hm, as you said it. Another day,” he remarks, “we have a guest.”

“Oh?” You turn the cart around.

“In the Berkano suite,” he explains.

You nod, “right.” You mark the chart pinned to the handle of the cart.

“She is very demanding,” he muses, “from the city.”

“They usually are,” you give a tiny chuckle. You wish he wouldn’t stare at you like that, or that he’d at least move out of the way.

“Not like you village girls, eh?”

“I guess,” you furrow your brow.

“Mm, how’s Greta?” He winks.

“Fine, I don’t know,” you sniff and grab the handle of the cart, rolling it forward.

“My birthday’s coming up. Maybe she’d come?” He suggests.

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you stop, blocked from leaving by his burly form.

“You’re invited too, of course,” he grins and his eyes dip down for a moment, “is that a new apron?”

You have to hold back a scoff. You know better than to mess around with Thor Odinson. It’s more than just the Confucian philosophy of not shitting where you eat, it’s good sense. You’ve heard the stories. Aside from that, he’s a bit above your age range.

“Nope,” you answer flatly, “anyway, I should get started.”

“Well, are you coming? To my party?” He asks.

“I’ll see if I’m free,” you deflect.

“Bring Greta,” he slides out of the way, “and whoever you like. Any pretty girls you know.”

You bow your head to hide your disgust. You don’t think you’ll be feeding anyone to the wolves, especially not yourself. You pass through the door and feel a brush against your hip. You ignore it and roll down the hallway. You wouldn’t even hand over Greta to that beast, for more than the fact that she is excommunicated from your life.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Helping Hand 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You're permitted to leave the dungeon of your policy review for your designated half-hour break. You go to the lunch room and sit down with your meagre tray of crackers and cheese. You pick away at it, your appetite spoiled by the rotten start to your day and the pain tearing at your muscles. You really just want to go home but you know you can't. You need the money.

Your phone shakes on the table, a loud rattle that makes you flinch. You sigh and grab it, standing up to take the call. The longer you avoid Andy, the worse it's going to get. You leave your food on the table and jar your shoulder as you pull open the door. You put the phone to your ear as you storm onto the sales floor.

"Andy, I'm at work."

"Tough shit. How hard is it for you to give me an answer? It's as simple as a text--"

"You ever think I don't want to see your mother or you? Andy," you huff and hold your breath, lowering your voice as you hurry past customers. You get outside just as you're about to burst, "you left me. You served me papers. Why are you still bugging me?"

"I asked you for a goddamn favour. And just like usual, you can't do a simple task--"

"Andy--"

"Listen to me," he hollers over you, "she's sick. Okay? She's sick and she wants to see you."

You stop on the curb, teetering on the edge. You push your neck back and groan. God, you're shoulder hurts.

"How sick?" You ask.

"Sick," he answers somberly, "please, it's one afternoon."

You exhale, "what about... her?"

Another silence as he sniffs, "that's over."

You want to scoff. You want to scream in his ear. All that for a fling that didn't even last a whole year. You hold back your venom, it doesn't change anything. You're still divorced and you still hate him.

"Too bad," you mutter, "fine, I'll come."

"Thanks," he says, "for what it's worth."

"For her, not you," you growl.

"I can drive you--"

"No, I'll figure that out myself," you turn back to the storefront, "the less time we need to be together, the better."

He clucks, "I wasn't that bad."

"Apparently I was," you shrug and let out a pathetic yipe, "god fuck!" You pull the phone away from your ear as you try to stifle your exclamation. You put it back to your cheek and cross the pavement to the door, "gotta go. Bye."

"Sunday--"

"Got it."

You hang up and shove your phone in your pocket. You whine and clutch your shoulder. Your eyes blur with tears. So much for a relaxing lunch.

You reenter the store, head down as you ignore the customers trying to get your attention. You punch the keycode into the lunchroom door and grab your uneaten snack, packing it away before returning to the backroom. As you enter, you find the office occupied.

"Ah, there you are," Jonathan greets as he turns to you, "how was your break?"

"Short," you answer and go around to sit in the chair, cradling your elbow to keep pressure off the joint of your shoulder, "thanks."

"I saw you rush out. Everything okay?"

"Yep," you roll forward and flip a page, "everything is roses."

"And how is your shoulder?" He asks.

"Good," you lie.

He stares at you. A deadlock between you. You bow your head and resume your mindless browsing of redundant rules. He comes close to the other side of the desk and rests his fingertips on the top.

"I am worried, I am not treating you maliciously," he says evenly.

"I know. I told you not to worry."

"Someone should be cautious if you won't," he insists, "I am not like that man I fended off last night–"

"He's not your problem to worry about."

"Yet, I do," he intones, "you shouldn’t let him shade your impression of the world. He is one person–"

"I don't want to talk about my ex-husband," your voice scrapes with frustration, "please," you lift your head, "I'm just trying to get through the day."

He considers you, dragging his hand away from the desk to cross his arms. His forehead ripples and his cheek twitches. He takes a breath and his chest rises and falls.

"Very well, let's keep this professional. Go home."

"What?" You sputter.

"Yes, you've had time to review the policy. Should an employee have issues performing their duties, and/or pose a risk to themselves or others, they may be dismissed," he declares, "I believe if you sit here any longer and stress your injury, you will cause irreparable damage."

"It's fine–"

"I am your boss and I am telling you to leave the premises."

You lean back, chewing on a yelp. You blink as you glare at him. You can't believe he is doing this.

"Now, since you are officially relieved of your duties, as your friend, I insist you see a doctor–"

"You can't do this–"

"I am," he shrugs nonchalantly. "Of course, you may choose to catch the bus and see how you fare with a night of discomfort and no relief or you will accept my offer and seek help. I had my physician pencil you in for an hour from now–"

"Why would you do that?" You sneer.

"Because, you are stubborn–"

"I am not your responsibility."

"Perhaps not in your mind," he smirks, "so, shall I retrieve your things from your locker or would you prefer me wait for you here?"

"I'm not going with you," you stand and close the binder, slamming your hand on the cover.

"Very well, until you seek proper care, you will not be permitted to return to work. I cannot risk the liability–"

"You are…" you begin, breathless with exasperation, "why are you doing this?"

"Doing what? Looking after you?"

"Yes," you murmur, "why would you bother?"

"Someone must," he drops his arms, "please, be mad at me all you like, it is better than hurting yourself."

You shake your head and huff, avoiding him as you round the desk, "I'll get my bag."

"I'll be here, darling," he hums smugly, "patiently."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Helping Hand 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"Andy, I'm on my way to work," you say, almost breathless as you charge across the parking lot, "you know, I gotta pay my rent, my water, my electric--"

"Not that easy, is it?" He sneers.

"Excuse me!" You bluster, barely dodging a car as you go to cross to the sidewalk embankment in front of the store, "how dare you--"

"I did you a favour. Accept it. You needed to grow up, be out on your own--"

"Why the fuck did you even call?!" You throw your hand out as you pace along the window of the store. Only he can get you like this. Good riddance, it really is a favour.

"My mom's party--"

"Oh, fuck off. I don't have time for that. I'm working overtime trying to scrape by because you gave me nothing, Andrew! You took everything and gave nothing!"

You tear the phone from your ear and hit your finger against the screen. End call. Bastard. He has you all worked up before a twelve. Probably exactly what he wanted.

You stop and force yourself to catch your breath. You can't walk in like this. You're close to tears. You don't even realise until your nose tingles and you feel the sheen threatening to spill over. You cover your face and huff.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?"

You don't move at first, hoping the voice is talking to someone else. It's too familiar. You slowly drop your hands and look at Jonathan. He must have quite the library if he's here so often. You swallow.

"Yeah, yeah," you like. You are not okay. You wasted twenty years on a man who never loved you. "I'm just about to get started."

You force a smile, cheek twitching as it bulbs. You turn to peek over your shoulder at the purple logos behind the glass. Thank god the barriers hide you from view.

"Ah, well then, shall we go in together? I'm just headed in myself."

"Uh, sure," you nod and drop your purse from your elbow to your hand, stuffing your phone inside. "Thanks."

"Allow me," he rushes ahead of you to the doors, "darling."

He gestures you in first. You precede him, hiding the chagrin that tugs at your forced smile. You see Heather, another trainee, and give her a small wave. She's behind the till doing her morning half-shift before classes.

"Well, uh, I should go put my stuff in the hub," you say over your shoulder, "I have to clock in for the--"

"Mr. Pine," Marcia, the morning manager appears from the Best Sellers display, "how are you?"

"Oh, hello," he greets her brightly, "just another check-in. Holidays are fast approaching. Any word on the truck?"

"Not yet but we're scheduling for it's arrival--"

Your head turns buzzy as you short-circuit. Pine. As in Pine Shelves, the story. He's not a customer at all, he's your goddamn boss. Oh god, as if the day couldn't get worse.

"Pardon, we'll discuss that later," Jonathan tells Marcia, "I was just speaking with this lovely employee. Always so helpful. I see training is going well."

"Ah, she's one of Giselle's, but thank you, sir."

He nods and she takes her cue. She retreats as he faces you. You can't speak. You're stupid with shock and embarrassment.

"I hate to make you late," he grins handsomely, "I wanted to tell you though that my sister loves the bookmark, no word on the book yet."

"Your sister?" You blink.

"Ah, yes, she had a birthday recently," he explains, "I must thank you for your suggestions."

You nod, fighting back the blaze behind your eyes, "no problem, Mr. Pine."

"Oh, dear, Jonathan suits me fine," he fixes his pocket square.

"Alright, um, sorry, I..." you look pointedly at the clock, "can't leave them hanging... sir."

"Hard worker," he praises, "as you will."

He stays as he is as you back away. You spin, nearly walking into the shelf of pens that stands centre of the wide aisle. You quickly skirt around it and scurry into the forest of paperbacks and hardcovers.

You get it. It was all a test. You just hope you past. Certainly, you will know once your probationary period is up. For now, you'll just painstakingly agonize over every word you said to the man.

💙

Your shift finally ends but brings with it little celebration. There is no relief in going home to an empty apartment. The rush of customers kept your mind off of the disaster of your life and now you have nothing to keep you from facing the mess.

You cross the lot, checking the time on your phone as you head for the stop right at the edge of the road. You see the orange letters of the bus banner approach. Shit, it's early.

You break into a run. Oof, you're a bit old for this. As you get to the curb, you're left in a fog of exhaust. The driver doesn't see you as he pulls away and you curse at the moonlight. Of course.

You deflate and fall onto the bench. Your feet hurt, your hips hurt, your back, neck and shoulders. Forty minutes for another bus or you could walk down twenty minutes and catch the connection.

You don't know which is better. Once more, indecisive to a fault. You lean forward and cradle your head. You can't even afford an uber or taxi home. You're better off walking for two hours.

So that's what you'll do. You get up and drag your feet down the unmaintained and crumbling sidewalk. You get to the large intersection and wade through the chaos of lights and impatient drivers.

On the other side, you head towards the light of the Walmart with several stops outside. It will at least be safer than standing in pitch black. As you come up to the edge of the large shopping plaza, a pair of headlights flash over you. On, off, then on again. Then a short toot.

You squint at the sleek black paint and the interior light flicks on. Oh god. You cringe as you make eye contact with Jonathan and he gives a small wave.

Just what you need.

He rolls down his window and sticks his head out, "need a lift?"

You shake your head, "my bus is coming." You point over him.

"Bus? Darling, I insist." You hear the locks slide back, "do get in."

You stare, a deer in actual headlights. You can't afford a taxi, so you sure as shit can't afford to tell your boss no.