Some characters don't need a lot of screen time to leave a lasting impression.
Sasha Roiz's portrayal of Detective Lou Ransone in 9-1-1 is exactly that.
Calm, intelligent, and quietly commanding, Lou is the kind of detective who doesn't have to raise his voice to own the room. Sasha brings a natural authority to the character while keeping him incredibly grounded and human. Every scene feels believable because of the subtle expressions, the body language, and the confidence he brings to the role.
One of the things I admire most about Sasha Roiz as an actor is his versatility. Whether he's playing a detective, a government agent, a villain, or a mentor, he always creates characters that feel authentic and memorable.
Thank you, Sasha, for another fantastic performance. 👏
I should make this a series: "Stories about my idiotic coworker(s)"
She just spent 20 minutes on the phone with our school photographer. Now, she has to relay EVERY SINGLE BIT OF INFORMATION from that call (and the email that prompted the call) to our principal and assistant principal. It's school pictures for the yearbook....IT'S NOT THAT FUCKING COMPLICATED!!!!!
Well, my dad’s car, which I was borrowing because mine is in the shop.
I use his car anytime mine is in for service and park it in my building’s lot without issue. But last night was not my night, apparently. The towing company that patrols went ahead and hooked mine up, which they never have before. So now I get to go track it down and pay whatever fee to get it back.
And yeah, I know it’s my fault, but this has never been a problem before.
I think the thing that bothers me the most about my boss is that she doesn't have any real care or concern for my time. As soon as I walked in the door this morning, she came straight into my office and unloaded on me, giving me a mountain and a half of tasks to complete in the 3 days that I'm in the office this week.
Right now, I'm in the middle of about 6 things, but she has decided that I need to work on this other thing with her (the major document that I've been edited for the past week because it's due today).
And then she wonders why I can't get anything done. It's because she has no respect for my time and the only thing that's ever important to her is what SHE deems has to get done RIGHT NOW.
Now the receptionist (who is beyond annoying on a good day), is going around asking everyone, "Do you know how brought that pink bin full of clothes (uniforms)?" But she's yelling from the lobby, trying to talk to those of us in the office. And then she had to come to each of us individually to ask. I have my door closed because the inane chatter is FUCKING KILL ME today, and she just presses in face into the window. LEAVE. ME. ALONE!!!!!!
I think the thing that bothers me the most about my boss is that she doesn't have any real care or concern for my time. As soon as I walked in the door this morning, she came straight into my office and unloaded on me, giving me a mountain and a half of tasks to complete in the 3 days that I'm in the office this week.
Right now, I'm in the middle of about 6 things, but she has decided that I need to work on this other thing with her (the major document that I've been edited for the past week because it's due today).
And then she wonders why I can't get anything done. It's because she has no respect for my time and the only thing that's ever important to her is what SHE deems has to get done RIGHT NOW.
The Lipstick Stain: Dom Pascal x Reader (Mafia AU)
Summary: Dom still wears your lipstick stain like a brand.
Companion piece to:
Cigars - Chicago's most feared mafia don comes home to find a surprise in his study.
Old Fashioned Manners - You return home to find Chicago's most feared mafia don in your house.
There’s lipstick on his cheek, Dom can’t stop looking at it as he stares at himself in the gold gilded mirror in his bathroom, his shirt hanging open, a strand of his usually coiffed hair falling across his forehead.
He should wash it off but the stain, it’s like a brand, reminding him of the press of your body against his as you kissed him goodbye. Your soft curves against his hard edges.
He wonders what would have happened if he decided not to be such a gentleman, if he’d kissed you the way that he had wanted to. If you would have yielded to him, or if like he suspects you’d be a force of nature, tearing the buttons off his shirt as he hiked that dress up your thighs, burying himself deep in you on that kitchen island.
He would have spent the rest of the night in your bed, his lips chasing over your skin, exploring every inch of you. Learning what made your breath hitch, your hands clutch the sheets, your back arch.
He strips off his shirt, tossing it in the laundry hamper but the mark stays, clinging to his skin the same way your perfume does.
When he steps into his bedroom, his gaze come to rest on his bed. The one that’s been empty since he killed Monica. He imagines you in the sheets, hair fanned out, skin flush and there’s a stirring in him one so strong that he ends up picking up his phone and texting your number.
I didn’t want to leave tonight…
You can always back, bring one of those fancy bottles of wine.
Tomorrow?
Actually, I was thinking tonight…
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Trying to work on a major editing project. My door is closed, but I can still hear these two in the outdoor office being loud as fuck, cackling, and not getting anything done. I’m overstimulated and can’t focus on this very important document with strict word counts that is due on Monday. Unfortunately, I don’t have any headphones that I can put on to tune them out, and I need to use my big monitor, which means I can’t grab my laptop and go somewhere else. I know it’s summer, but some of us still have a shit ton of work to do.
So my coworker, the one who was given control of our social media accounts, can’t even write a Facebook post without using AI/ChatGPT. She thinks she’s a genius for “coming up with” two to three lines of text when she literally did NOTHING! I was trying to write a caption for her the other week, and she took my words and ran them through ChatGPT to edit them. Three sentences and she can’t even manage that!
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