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ficforce · 3 years

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Blind Spot Part 1

Obi x Reader Stalker trigger

Obi stopped mid-lift as he heard the sound of three women getting angry all at once, it could only mean that Y/N had come back from her date and that it hadn’t gone well. He grabbed a towel and wiped at his face before opening the door and heading toward the break room; Iris looked mildly scandalised whilst Tamaki and Maki looked ready to commit murder, Y/N stood in front of them looking a little disappointed. “So he just grabbed your butt and expected you to go home with him? What a pervert!” “You have the worst luck with that dating company, why can’t you find your prince charming already?” Maki looked close to tears and sat down as if defeated. Y/N pat her on the shoulder and then she realised Obi was stood in the doorway, he looked a little sweaty but she recognised the bright look in his eyes, he always got a good feeling after working out, “You called it, Captain. Another loser crossed off the list.” “Did you update your dating profile?” He wasn’t going to gloat, he hadn’t liked the guy’s profile when she showed him and he felt worse about it if the guy had touched her without her wanting him to, “What did you put in for your ideal match?” She sat down beside Maki and began counting off the points on her fingers, “Tall, fit, kind, fun. Adventurous, looking for a long term commitment, preferably someone in a similar line of work.” Sister Iris shook her head a little and exhaled, “Why don’t you just put in a picture of Captain Obi in that section?” Tamaki covered her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh out loud and Maki looked at the two hopefully. It wasn’t the first time someone had told Y/N that she and Obi would be a great match.

“Tall, check” Maki ticked off an imaginary box, “No ones more fitness mad than Captain, check.” Iris joined in then, getting up her own imaginary checklist, “Kind and fun, check. Adventurous… let’s just check that.” Tamaki pretended to grab Iris’ list, “Pretty sure Captain Obi said he’d only date for keeps, check. And he’s in the same line of work. Check, check and check!” The three of them looked at them excitedly, Obi rubbed the back of his head and fumbled with his words for a moment, eventually coming up with some excuse, “We’ve been friends for nearly ten years, I think if there was anything between us it would have happened by now, right, Y/N?” “And you’re my boss now,” she gave a shrug to the girls and sat down at the end of the table, still disappointed by the evening’s date. Y/N had always dreamed of a prince charging into her life one day, sweeping her off her feet and loving her until the end of time, she felt like she was running out of time now, she was nearly thirty and still hadn’t had a long, meaningful relationship. She wondered if Mr Right would ever find her… Feeling a warm hand on her shoulder she looked up at Obi and he gave her a soft smile, “You’ll find a guy who ticks all the boxes, you just need to relax a little more. How about I set you up with Hinawa?” “Great idea!” Y/N cheered, “Then I can borrow his gun to shoot you with!” Obi snorted and headed out to hit the showers, oblivious to Y/N watching him as he left, her eyes lingering on his muscled back until she heard giggling from the side, “What?!” The women couldn’t believe how oblivious the two were of their feelings. The next two dates were just as disastrous and put the usually cheery woman in a bad mood. She was almost grateful for the difficulty of their mission as it let her work out some frustration, Obi pulled her up out of the elevator shaft they had used to escape a collapse lower down and she made sure to adjust his hood when she noticed it coming loose - neither of them had fire abilities and made sure to check the other’s equipment. It was something they had done even when they were regular firefighters, they had been in some difficult firefights and they always tried to find something to laugh about at the end; it kept them sane. They had gotten separated from everyone else when two Infernals had flanked the team, “The floor’s weak here, watch your step, Ak- Obi.” Y/N still wasn’t used to calling him Captain or Obi after years of casual friendship calling each other by first names. They made their way through the building until they found the stairs, the fires were blazing hot and they rushed down the stairs to where they could hear fighting, a screech of metal made Y/N scream as the stairs sunk dangerously under their feet, she balanced herself in time but she saw Obi go over the side of the broken rail. “Akitaru!” She launched herself toward him and barely caught his wrist before he vanished - he was so heavy it was hard not to be pulled over too, “Come on, little help here…” Obi caught the edge of the stairs with his other hand and began to pull himself back up, the woman gripping his coat and belt to help him all the way, “Thanks…” he gave her shoulder a grateful squeeze, “Let’s keep going, stay alert.” The Captain took her hand without thinking and they made their way through the inferno together, it was early dawn by the time they had finished putting the Infernals to rest and Y/N’s head drooped as she fought off sleep, eventually her head dropped onto Obi’s shoulder and he opened one of his eyes to look down at her, a smile flitted over his lips as she let out a mumble. He closed his eye again and relaxed a little, there was still some driving to do before they got back to the station so he would have to enjoy this as much as he could. They’d been friends for as long as he could remember and part of him regretted that he wasn’t her prince charming… they had never even had a moment where he thought he could kiss her and she would respond favourably - perhaps he was a coward? He had told the girls what he

honestly thought, ‘if there was anything between them it would have happened by now.’ It ached every time she described her ideal man but overlooked him. Obi wanted her to be happy and if that meant helping her out before every date she had with a stranger then he would take it on the chin. — - “I give up!” Y/N announced and tossed her jacket over Vulcan’s workbench, “Vul, I need something to hit - gimme a job to do.” She pulled him out from under the matchbox, not too surprised by his animal-themed goggles but they made her laugh, “You’re so cute…” “I’m a star-nosed mole.” The redhead pointed over to a different bench, “The hubcap got a little banged up, wanna hammer it back into shape?” She passed him a bottle of water and the young man pulled his goggles off, he saw Y/N like a kind of mother but even he had to admit she looked good in her date outfit, “Didn’t it go well?” She shook her head, “It was fine at first but then he started talking about himself and it was way different than his profile, then he kept changing his story and I just got this… feeling about him. He was hot as hell but I started to really go off him by dessert.” Y/N took a breath, “You know how you said Dr Giovanni made even your bones feel creeped out - he was like that.” A little time passed with the two working away and then they were interrupted by Hinawa, the Lieutenant’s wide eyes landed on Y/N and she flinched, “…Um?” “Your date called the station, he wanted to know if you got home safe.” He would have gone on to lecture her on the proper use of the work phone but the ex-soldier paused when he saw her expression change, it was obvious the news wasn’t welcome. “Y/N?” “I didn’t tell him where I worked… I said I was in Emergency Services and there’s nothing on me to indicate I work here.” Her skin prickled and she glanced out of the garage door as if someone might be lurking there, “What did you say, Lieutenant?” Hinawa walked past her and pulled the door shut before tossing her her coat, “I told him that Company 8 only deals with Infernals in this district and hung up.” He told Vulcan to make sure he locked up when he was done and led her toward the kitchen. The kitchen with Hinawa always meant a heart to heart, Hinawa began preparing tea and she gave a sigh as she waited for him to say whatever it was he needed. “Tell me about the guy you went out with tonight? Description, occupation… concerns.” “Tall, dark hair and eyes, he was pretty broad.” He passed her a cup and she held it close as she leaned on the counter, “He said he was police force but then he kinda changed his story, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his arm when he took his coat off and it looked military.” She watched Hinawa nod slowly and then he gestured for the door, having her follow him to the equipment lock-up, “Hinawa?” “I didn’t like his tone, Y/N, I don’t like what you’re telling me.” He pulled open his gun draw and picked out a handgun, checking it over before holding it out to her, “I’m lending this to you, I know you can use it so I’m not too worried about gun safety.” “Hinawa?” She took it from him hesitantly, “I’m… I think you’re overreacting.” “You looked terrified when I said you got a call… It takes some doing to rattle you, Y/N. Cancel your dating subscription, it’s embarrassing that you even signed up. You’re an attractive woman but you need to get your head out of fairytales and start looking in the real world.” Y/N kept the gun Hinawa had given her in a holster under her clothes, she figured he was being overprotective and the thought made her feel better about the whole thing, Company 8 were her family and they looked out for her, maybe Hinawa was right and she needed to relax a little. It was a full week since her date and everything was just like normal, at least she had thought it was. It was Arthur that pointed out a reoccurring figure at the scenes they went out to, the blonde pointed past her shoulder and she turned along with Shinra, “He’s here again.” Shinra squinted into the crowd and agreed, “Yeah, he was here last time and the

time before. Do you know him, Y/N?” The figure was already walking away when she tried to get a better look, she felt a chill all over and stepped backwards nervously - straight into Obi. His hands rested on her shoulders and he searched the crowd too, “Y/N… you’re shaking.” Obi had heard about the stranger in the crowd and he had been told by Hinawa that there was a problem with her last date, the Captain guided her back to the matchbox and searched the crowd one more time before ordering Vulcan to drive them home. They all kept an eye out from then on, the figure didn’t appear again but someone kept calling the station and hanging up, Vulcan noticed that the lock on the garage had been tampered with and one morning they found a bouquet of flowers left at the doorstep. It had gotten to a point where Y/N couldn’t go anywhere without an escort. — - “Maki, could you go tell Y/N it’s her turn to do the dishes?” The woman gave her Captain a nod and headed down to the garage where Y/N said she was going to grab a screwdriver to fix something in her room. She looked around and saw only Vulcan’s feet under the matchbox and Licht trying to convince him to help with modifications. They both seemed confused as Y/N hadn’t been there in the last half an hour, the three of them started a search throughout the large building and then there was a mass panic when no one could find her. Obi had been the last person to leave the station, calling ahead to Company 5 to see if they could spare some extra feet on the ground and then he would search the local area. The phone rang and he prayed it wasn’t an Infernal, “Company 8, Captain Obi speaking… Y/N! Where the hell are you?!” “I was taking out the trash and… I didn’t see him…” Obi pressed the phone closer to his ear, she sounded so faint, “Akitaru, I… I’ve been shot.” His blood ran cold as that sunk in.

#obi akitru #reader #fire force #stalking #enen no shouboutai #enn enn no shouboutai #garth ennis

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sweeethinny · 4 years

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some time ago I wrote this fic, and today, after listening to some good 100 times this song, I had to write something about it, so I put these stories together and showed Harry's vision, how they ended up meeting (and I know, I say that Harry was a nurse, but I only noticed this after writing almost 2000 thousand words, which means that I am not going to change this new story and just deleted the paragraph that referred to it, thank you very much.)

I do not agree with any act of vandalism

It was a normal Friday at the bar, the same guys from the executive building had come over after the office spoke badly about the boss, the women from the accounting department went to get the portion of shrimp, chips and salad, along with the usual beers, and almost everyone who was there, Harry knew. It was supposed to be a normal Friday.

But then, the door opened and a redhead came in, not the one who worked at the makeup shop on the corner, nor the teacher of the elementary who would marry next week, no, this was a new. She was short, but she wore black high-heeled boots that stuck to her knee, a black pantyhose, a matching skirt and a gray turtleneck sweater, which made her look like she was coming from a funeral. The redhead was one, if not, the most beautiful woman who had ever entered there, with her hair at the height of her breasts, loose and messy from the wind, big brown eyes, and freckles that painted all over her skin.

''Good night'' Her voice reached him, sweet and melodious, she sat at the bar in front of Harry and that alerted her that she could be coming from a funeral, because if it was a date, she wouldn't sit down there. There were deep dark circles that matched the whole sad scene he had created - a habit he had created since opening the place, always trying to guess what each person was doing there - and Harry almost wanted to hug her and offer his condolences. ''The strongest you have''

''Good night’' He tried hard to say, not wanting to look too shocked by her beauty, serving her properly with the strongest whiskey on the shelf ''Some say it makes fire come out of your ears'' He joked, trying to pull it out least a glare from the most listless brown eyes he had ever seen

‘’Is he good at setting someone on fire too?’’ Harry had met some people during his six years working there, and whenever someone started with these chats, he knew that some tragic love story would reach his ears.

‘’I’ve never tested it, but we’ve already used it to flambe one of our desserts and burned the ceiling’’ Even with that, the story that always made someone at least smile a little terrified, the woman remained listless. Harry beckoned Andrew to take his place by attending Andy, the painter who worked on the fifth floor of the building. "Is everything okay?" The redhead drank the entire dose, tapping the glass on the counter and wiping the drop that ran down the corner of her mouth before crossing her arms and looking at all the people around, as if she were envious of every smile that appeared on unknown faces

‘’Have you ever been betrayed?’’ Harry looked at her, picking up the ice and lemons as he continued to work on the drink from table five, trying to buy time to answer it.

‘’Hm ... Not that I know’’ At least none of his ex’s had said anything about it in the end.

''You should be thankful'' He poured another shot when she pushed the glass towards him, and she took it in a few seconds, her cheeks turning as red as her hair ''It sucks'' Her brown eyes shone for a second and Harry prepared to pick up the handkerchiefs he kept nearby, but then they dried up and were so lifeless they looked ashes

‘‘I’m sorry’’ He smiled when Tom took the glass with the freshly brewed drink, and went back to paying attention to her ‘’What is your name? I never saw you around here’’

‘‘Ginny ’’

‘’Harry’’ The pretty redhead stretched out her hand in greeting, forcing a smile

‘’Do you know everyone who shows up here?’’ He shook her cold hand

''Good part, usually people talk about their lives and we end up remembering them'' Ginny nodded, focusing her eyes on the empty glass in front of her and seeming to think about several things at the same time, and if it weren't for Rihana's music playing, Harry thought he could hear the gears working

‘’My boyfriend ... well, ex boyfriend, he came here. Do you know him?'' She opened the photo on her cell phone, showing her next to Michael, smiling from ear to ear as they drank ice cream, and Harry did his best to contain the shock when he saw the man who worked in the tattoo parlor and never left the bar alone. How could anyone betray someone like her?

‘’Huh… Yes. I think we talked at one time or another’’ He omitted, not wanting to delve into the fact that he had introduced Jones to Michael yesterday.

'’It seems that everyone knew that he was cheating on me but they didn't want to tell me. They preferred to make me a clown! My own friends!’’ This time there were tears, and Ginny made no effort to contain them ‘‘I am an idiot’’

''Of course not, they are'' Harry sat on the bench across from her, still on his side of the bar ''Michael didn't deserve you'' Not after going out with more than a year with several girls ( and he didn't think it was a short relationship, due to her sadness) ''You are too beautiful for him'' Ginny finally laughed, a little bitterly, but still a laugh

‘’And who would I be pretty to?’’ Harry shrugged

‘’I don’t know,I don't think there is a guy for work. But if you like women, maybe you’re more lucky’’ She laughed again, sniffling and wiping tears from her sweater sleeve. This time he took the handkerchiefs.

‘’We were together for five years ... Five years and God knows how many betrayals’’ His heart ached, wanting to go back in time and hit that filthy guy in the face ‘’I arrived on a trip and .. surprise! There he was with the barmaid on our sofa’’ Ginny forced a smile, taking the rest of the whiskey and hiding her face with her hands, seeming to cry even more

‘’He’s an idiot, you know that, don’t you?’’

‘’No more than me’’ Harry denied, taking the hands off her pretty face, trying his hardest not to wipe her tears-wet cheeks, or putting the red strands behind her ear, just taking another handkerchief and handing it over

‘‘It is forbidden to self-sabotage in this bar’’ Ginny laughed softly, wiping her wet face and giving little sobs ‘’I won’t let you think shit about you, when he was the one who missed. There was no way for you to know, there are no signs or any indications to let us know that the person is complete shit.’’

‘‘Well, there should be, I’d avoid a few years of being an idiot’’ Harry swallowed, not sure what to say, but then remembering something. He opened the drawer next to it, pulling out a box he had gotten from his mother and was saving for later

‘‘Take one’’ Harry pointed to the untouched chocolates, pulling the lid off and placing it close to her face ‘‘My uncle always says they improve any mood’’

‘’How can I know they’re not poisoned?’’ It was a valid question

‘’Pick one, and I’m going to eat’’ She looked at him, her brown eyes looking more like melted sugar and less like the ash at the bottom of the fireplace. Harry preferred that look, even if smudged with mascara. Ginny pulled out one of the truffles and handed it over, which he ate with common devotion, feeling the incredible taste of cherry liqueur mixed with dark chocolate, all melting in his mouth in the most perfect way. ‘’The best in all of London’’ He smiled ‘’Now, take one’’ And the redhead did it.

‘’Thank you’’ She smiled a little sheepishly, chewing on the truffle that should have been chocolate and pepper, and looking a little calmer than a few minutes ago. At least the hiccups were almost gone. ''I wanted to get back at him'' Maybe it was her beauty, maybe it was the fact that Harry thought he owed her something because he never noticed Michael dating - even if it was impossible, as he said, there were no signs or indicators - but it didn't take long for him to respond;

‘’Do you want help?’’ And so it was that after work, he ended up taking Ginny to a nearby neighborhood to break Michael’s car

‘’Don’t worry, my brother works at the police station and can cover up a case of vandalism. If, Michael has the courage to report, which I doubt’’ She reassured him, sitting in the passenger seat and finishing eating the last chocolate from the box, which he willingly gave her

‘’So, is this it?’’ He parked on the corner, happy that there were no security cameras on the street or the buildings around. The gray car was parked not far away, looking brand new.

‘‘Yep’’ Ginny got out of the car, looking much more angry than when she arrived at the bar, putting on the hoodie that Harry had borrowed and going steadily towards her final destination.

As promised, he followed her, taking care of her back while the redhead did all the destruction with a golf club he kept in the trunk, scratching the shiny paint and murmuring swear words and slightly incoherent phrases

''I once found panties in the back seat'' She said while explaining why the car ''And he told me I was going crazy, that that was my panties'' Ginny rolled her eyes, her cheeks purple "And when I once complained that he spent more time taking care of the car than going out with me, he said, 'it's just that the car doesn't complain so much'".

Harry looked over his shoulder, seeing that she was spilling a jar of old oil, which he had taken out to put in the trash, on the seats and steering wheel, while angry tears fell from her eyes, leaving her much more mascara painted than before.

As soon as she finished, falling in the middle of the street and sobbing in a loud cry, Harry knew he needed to get them out of there before some curious neighbor wanted to know what that noise was, or was going to take out the trash, so he picked her up as if it were the most precious thing in the world, letting Ginny soak his shirt with tears and shaking hands to grab him as if it were the only thing that would protect her at that moment

‘’Why does it still hurt, Harry?’’ Her tone made his chest ache and tighten, placing it inside the car and then leaving the crime scene - could it be called that?.

‘‘I don’t know, Ginny’’ he say sincerely ‘‘Revenge never really comforts, it doesn’t bring anything back’’

‘’He had no right to play with me like that!’’

''No''

''I hate him so much'' The sobs echoed back in the car ''I don't think I'll ever be able to love anyone again'' Harry looked at her, her hair totally messed up, her face dirty with makeup and red from drink, her eyes swollen crying, and red lips trembling, looking just as vulnerable as Teddy on waking from a nightmare or going 5 minutes without Tonks or Remus around. Harry sighed, saddened that a woman like her was suffering like that for someone so ridiculous and filthy, that he didn't deserve even a hair of her stress. Ginny definitely deserved to be happy and to be loved, and it was a shame that they met at a time like this, because Harry can imagine himself - even if for a second - by her side.

‘’It’s never too long ... There must be someone’’.

#hinny #harry x ginny #harry potter au #harry potter #hinny au #hinny angst #ginny weasley #hp fanfic #hp couples #hp au #read-a-hinny-fic

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fandomfic-galore · 5 years

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Babysitting for Jim.

Warnings; Fluff, (I am not very good at fluff I tried) A/N; I started this fic sober, went out for dinner and now I am drunk, so please forgive me haha. Gif, not mine. Word count: 1083

Requested by @l0ve-0f-my-life

Coming home from college for the holidays, was something that you always loved to do. The house you grew up was still decorated nicely, your mom made sure about that. Thousands and light’s glistening that could be seen from outer space. A snow machine, even though it usually snowed at this time of year, so you had no idea why your Mom brought it.

Stepping inside the front door, you placed your bag down and wandered around.

“Mom...I’m home...Mom”

No one was home, your Mom must have been still at work, making your way to the fridge you saw a note on the door.

Hi, y/n, welcome home.

Jim and I are working late at the station.

Can you babysit El for him after she finishes school?

He has left some money for pizza on our phone.

Love ya

Mom.

You huffed this was the last thing you wanted to do. Looking at the clock in the kitchen, it was already three. You grabbed the money by the phone and made your way to the car. Taking the short drive to Jim’s house, you were cursing him under your breath every five seconds.

Jim had pretty much been the father figure in your life after you. Dad had been killed while on duty. Both your parents were cops and were best friends with Jim, the chief of police in the little town of Hawkins. You loved El, she was like a little sister that you never had or wanted sometimes.

Pulling up to Jim’s house, you searched for his spare key. The right-hand side of the door, fourth rock away. Lifting the fourth rock, you grabbed the box that was buried underneath and grabbed the key, unlocking the door. Shutting the door behind you, you sat on the sofa and turned the TV on, waiting for El to arrive.

Half an hour had passed, and El walked in with a girl you had never seen before. Standing up, you greeted them both.

“Y/N!” El screamed with excitement.

“Hey El, who’s this?” questioning the mystery girl standing next to her.

“Y/n this is Max, Max y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, Max,” You said eyeing her up, you didn’t want to cause trouble but you didn’t know this new girl in Jim’s house.

Both of the girls rushed to El’s room and closed the door giggling towards each other.

“Make sure you do some homework,” you shouted towards the general direction of El’s room.

A few hours had passed, and the girls were still in El’s room and you were bored off whatever TV programme you were watching. Knocking on El’s door lighting, she opened the doors.

“I’m ordering pizza what would you and Max like?” You smiled at El, behind her were school books laid out on the floor, and you could see Max studying, or maybe it was just for show.

Thinking for about a second, “Cheese and pepperoni” El looked at you with eyes that screamed go away I want to be with my friend. Chuckling yourself, you hunted for Jim’s phone and order the pizza.

Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door. Standing up from the sofa, you made your way to open the door. However, El had beat you to it and grabbed the pizzas and paid the delivery guy in a blink of an eye. Shocked, you went to grab the pizza’s out of El’s hand to help her dish them out. However, she was not expecting help from you. You offered your hands in front of you, El had her head down, and she slammed right into you. The boxes opened, and the pizzas went flying all over you. The cheese, the sauce, went all over your clothes.

“y/n I’m so sorry,” El apologised with so much guilt in her voice, you didn’t know what to do. Looking down at your clothes they were now covered in sauce and cheese, you couldn’t help but laugh at the state you were in.

“It’s ok...I’ll make...pasta,” you said, giving El a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder. “Let me change first.”

“Dad has some clothes you could borrow. I’m sure he won't mind.” Jim probably didn’t mind at you borrowing clothes for him but could you wear clothes of the man who you had a secret crush on for...forever. Nodding you made your way to Jim’s room. Rumgering through his drawers, you found a t-shirt that was so big it stopped mid-thigh on you. Perfect you thought to yourself.

Waling out you made your way to the kitchen, starting to get the pots and pans out of the cupboard, you still did not notice that a new set of eyes were on you. Watching you. Turning around you came face to face with the man himself. Jim Hopper.

Gulping, you didn’t want to move or say anything, you just looked at him, blinking blankly at him.

“That’s my...shirt you’re wearing...sweetheart”

Smiling, you noticed how nervous Jim had become all of a sudden.

“I got pizza all my me” You still didn’t want to move.

You noticed Jim eyeing you up and down very slowly and biting his lip. You felt comfortable in his shirt. Jim obviously liked the way you looked in his clothes as well. Jim’s hands went to his chin and started rubbing his beard while still eyeing you up.

“I’m making pasta. Do you want some?” you asked as you held the pots and pans in your hands. Jim smiled at you and nodded.

Making and eating the pasta, you kept seeing Jim steal glances to you. You did not want to admit to yourself, but you liked the attention that Jim was giving you. Finishing his pasta, Jim looked at you and place a hand on your knee.

“Thank you for dinner, sweetheart.” Cupping your knee, his thumb rubbed around your bare skin.

Looking down at your empty plate you wanted to moan but knew it was best not to.

“I need to go home.” You hurried to your feet and made your way to the door, in the background you heard Jim following you. Walking out and opening the car door, Jim held it open for you.

“Drive safe y/n” Sitting in the driver's seat, Jim leaned down to your level. “Thanks for tonight” He kissed you lightly on the cheek. You froze, did he actually just kiss you.

#jim hopper #jim hooper #Jim is Daddy #a bit of fluff #I tried with fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #david harbour

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shadesofjanuaryblues · 5 years

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Chiberia

Chicago.

Chicago. One of the greatest cities. THE Windy city.

Also known as Chitown, Chiberia.

I live here. Not directly in the city, but about 30 minutes out west, in the most basic middle class town. It doesn’t fall into the small-town category, but it isn’t a big town either. But basically, you go to the grocery store, and there is a 43% chance of you running into someone you know.

Well, let’s start from the beginning. I’m an immigrant.

I am pure-breed, one hundred percent Lithuanian. Born and raised. Well, I guess, “halfway” raised. I came here when I had just turned thirteen. Straight into the school-year. Eighth grade.

The middle school I went to wasn’t big. Everyone knew everyone. Obviously there were the popular, the “independent” friend groups, and of course, the not-so-popular. But I’m not here to describe the social pyramid of the American school system.

All you have to know, is that I was placed in an ESL class, which was created to help out students who have a hard time with English. This helped me gain two friends, which gave me a little comfort to go through the school day without having to cry in the bathroom during lunchtime. Hell, I was glad to have someone to borrow a notebook from.

Going back to the whole ESL thing: my family stumbled into the office of the school, merely 2 months after moving here, me having absolutely zero English skills and having not formed any because I was only surrounded by my Lithuanian speaking family, we were told that I was not going to be able to repeat 7th grade, and that I was going to be placed straight into the next school year. Of course, our pale flustered faces were accompanied by my second-hand cousin, who had attended that school as well, earlier on. Anyways, they put me in a class - for immigrants. FANTASTIC resource, don’t you say? Except the biggest problem was that my ESL teacher’s second language was not Lithuanian, it was Spanish.

Now you say, “so many people go through these classes, they learn English, like even you, you’ve been here for, what, eight years already? I can’t even tell that you have an accent!”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Heard it all before. Yeah, truthfully that class did help me. Not to learn English, but to complete my homework. That’s it. Meanwhile I was in an English class learning the same stuff as the other eighth graders were. History? A bunch of foreign words and gibberish. Science? Oh man, don’t even get me started. Even PE? CONSTANTLY hearing shit I did not understand. Like pacer test? Do you know how much nerve it took for me to ask a fellow classmate what the fuck that was and how do I do it? To literally make a fool out of myself with my “broken English”? Even math. Slopes, fractions, functions? I had not even heard of those terms when I got there, and in eighth grade they weren’t learning it anymore, they were perfecting it. So many hours spent by my kitchen table crying.

One advantage American kids had, was that they could ask their parents. I couldn’t.

Well, in other words I did, but they didn’t know.

And the purpose of this whole written rant isn’t for me to shit on Americans. Not at all. It’s for you, the reader to realize or relate to the struggle immigrants have to go through. And many other issues that I’ll cover later, but this would be the first.

Comes the age 15, I had befriended a fellow Lithuanian, a year earlier, who helped me ENORMOUSLY with my English. Not only the formal language, but the slang as well. This friendship was beneficial to us both, because at this point she had been living there for eight years, and having moved here at an earlier age, her Lithuanian was getting rusty.

Anyways, at 15 I started setting up my first bank deals with my parents. In person I would introduce myself as their daughter, the translator. I was learning new banking terms in English and Lithuanian on a weekly basis. By the phone, I talked on behalf of my mother, I mastered the art of lowering my voice and sounding more formal, knew my mother’s social security number by heart before I had even really looked at mine.

By sixteen I was handling most of my family’s bills, loans, car payments. I was answering most of their formal calls. Later that year my parents opened up a trucking company. With the help of some Lithuanian representatives, and myself, the company was running. I went over all of the contracts that were signed in terms of buying a truck, leasing a trailer, safety and all other regulations (not going to get into detail). Then, I got a temporary job at another trucking company in the summer solely to learn how to dispatch.

I had to learn how to dispatch so I could teach my mother. My mom’s English was still very weak at the time and she was scared to go and learn it herself.

In other words I had no choice. I spend my summer mornings waking up crabby as shit, going upstairs to make phone calls with cocky dudes with egos breaking through the roof. “Illinois to Alabama, one pick, one drop. Potatoes. 750 miles, rate 950”. See at that point I was taught to shoot double, then lower it to the most reasonable price. “Where’s the pickup? Loose potatoes? (Requires a paid wash afterwards, therefore rate should always be higher- waste of money and time), I’ll take it for 1500”, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHa are you out of your mind, where have you even heard of prices like this? 1000, take it or leave it”.

Approximately 70 calls a day with one successful, if it’s a good day. Sometimes I’d be on that computer for over 10 hours.

My mom learned, she started dispatching, things got a bit easier. I only had to handle the “bigger” things. Claims, detentions and other shit like that. Stressful as hell, burned out most of my patience out by the age of 17.

At seventeen, I started rebelling. I wasn’t happy with my life, but I also felt fucking invincible. By then I had earned a bit of social acknowledgement, I guess everyone saw me as the bitch I was portraying myself to be. Reckless and bad as fuck.

Street racing, going 120 on the highway to the city and back, drinking in the forest in the car. Coordinating who’s throwing a party on what weekend, sneaking out and coming home hammered, only to sleep for a few hours and go about my day like nothing ever happened.

This lasted a whole year, shit more than that. I made a lot of good and bad memories, been places I really shouldn’t have been, but I don’t regret any of it. But guess where I ended up on Halloween night the year I turned 18?

Cuffed to the fucking wall at a police station.

Wow.

Who would’ve thought, what a surprise!

I’m not quite comfortable going into detail in writing, but if you know me then you know the story, and if not, ask me about it in person, I’ll be happy to tell you.

The one thing I want to put on the table is that it wasn’t drug affiliated, and not criminal.

However, I was facing jail time. But hey, I was lucky enough to get those charges dropped, and that was the biggest lesson I could ever have.

From that point on, I went to my court dates, reevaluated my life, and started rebuilding. I had to switch schools, which introduced me to new people, ended up cutting some off, and befriending new ones. Graduated, started going to the local community college. I was working the whole time, trying to make spending money, still helping out my parents with all the financial stuff. In college I was undecided, tried out a couple different options, they didn’t seem to work out.

Not this brings up another issue I have with the way society has been built.

HIGHER EDUCATION.

I ended up picking something I felt I had an interest in, and not what my parents thought would be good for me. I enrolled in the architecture program. I was doing great, I was able to keep my focus, I wanted to improve and was eager to learn new things. Finished off the first semester. Through sweat, sleepless nights, and tears – ended up with all A’s. That significantly brought my GPA up.

By the second semester, I was ready. I was excited, because at this point we were actually starting to be able to create. This had to be my favorite part, because I consider myself relatively creative, I constantly have random ideas flowing in my head. It’s kind of like slight madness.

Anyways, when we started, my architecture program coordinator was teaching one of the classes. By that time I had already formed a professional relationship with her, she was very helpful and gave enormously valuable advice. Every project we did, I put my heart and my soul into. There weren’t any major guidelines, yet I kept being told to simplify my work. I kept being told to change it up, almost so I would blend into the other projects hanging up beside mine. I talked to my professor, she complimented my creativity, she said she hasn’t seen this much creativity and thought in a very long time, yet I still had to change it, and simplify it.

I don’t blame her, or anyone, really, but I felt myself get more and more suppressed. I felt like I had to fit into a basic box that’s been designed by someone else. I accepted it, decided to move forward. Life is all about compromise, isn’t it?

But then, in the middle of my somewhat peaceful life…

….I found out my mom was having an affair.

It’s almost like being practically the head of the family, I finally stepped a couple steps down and within a few blinks everything went to shit.

Wow, I can’t even describe you how I felt, truly broken. Like even worse, I felt like family was ripped out of my hands.

I tend to rely heavily on friends and family, and these two really are the only thing that kept me alive throughout all those years. And just like that, it’s gone.

The day I found out, I had been driving to the mall with my mom. I was putting a song on thru her phone, when a text message came in. I recognized the number, I had asked her about it roughly 4 months ago. She told me it was nothing, just some stupid guy hitting on her, and that she blocked his number. During that car ride, looking out the window I realized that all those evening yoga classes weren’t really even yoga after all. Shit hit me hard. But what I managed to blurt out was “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see this, so that we have one good last day, and I will deal with this tomorrow”.

Fast forward over the next month or so, listening to my mother’s lies, and my dad’s psychosis trying to vent to me, I lost my mind. Actually, this time. I lost it. I dropped out of school after numerous failed attempts to show up. I would park up, get my backpack and tell myself “okay I’m going to go in one minute”, on repeat, until the class ended and I would take my ass back home, shameful and full of hatred. My anxiety and depression peaked at this point. I went to therapy, refused drugs, decided to continue going to therapy until I got somewhat stable. My friends pulled me out of the hole, forcefully, very unpleasantly, but I am eternally grateful for them. Took a very long time to heal, but I healed, I got back up, and I started moving forward.

Shortly after my father found out my mom was having an affair, he switched his life around trying to win her back. I respect him for that, however it didn’t work. The house went on sale. The house got sold. Dad (who is actually my stepdad but has been raising me since I was 3 years old), was moving in with his friend. I didn’t like that friend at all, he was an alcoholic and quite inappropriate at times. Mom? Off with her new husband. Greta with her dog and cat? Choose.

Do I want to live with someone who makes me feel very uncomfortable and is quite unpredictable?

Or do I live with the man who is the reason my family, and my life has fallen apart? Whom I, in fact, fantasized about stabbing at the time?

I said fuck you to them both. Picked up more hours at my two jobs, with the help of my dad, I rented out a 500 square foot studio apartment. I worked a fuck ton, and I mean it. From one job to another in the same day, back and forth thru the week. Paid my bills, dad helped if I came up a few hundred bucks short. My diet consisted of solely the food I could get at the restaurant I was working at. If I worked there only 4 days that week, that means I was only going to be eating those 4 days, the next three, I’d get off my other job, if the time was right I would visit someone and eat what they gave me, if not I’d literally not eat. Cigarettes were expensive and they were my priority.

Slowly my dad got back on his feet, despite his deep depression that he simply wasn’t able to understand. He started out helping out more and more, at this point I was able to save a few bucks for myself. Those bucks were spent mostly on ramen and bottom shelf wine.

A while later, I got promoted at my job. I started being a manager at the restaurant I was working at, and then slowly went into accounting.

Quit my retail job, and have been relying on shifting from manager to waitress for the past 6 months.

I would go into detail about how difficult it is to be put in a higher position as a 21 year old white woman, working with middle age white men, but that’s just a buzzkill. Everyone knows “white men run this shit” and I have a HUUUGE problem with that, but it’s fine. Not going to worry about it.

So why, after all this time, this magical city that I’ve seen my best ant my worst moments in, suddenly makes me sick to my stomach? Why can’t I stand being here?

Is it a bad case of (literally all year long) January blues? Is it all the cold and the gray? Is it all the garbage on the streets?

Downtown Chicago is like a painting you hang up on your wall. “Like, wouldn’t it be cool to be there right now?”, or “okay, this is the building I’m going to live in”. Pure fantasy, baby. You drive to your minimum wage job that you hate, you see the Chicago skyline in between the clouds ahead. All it is – a reminder that you probably will not be able to live on the 92nd floor of that building, no matter how hard you try. Some of us will try our best, but we will not achieve great things. Chances are slim, so we definitely should still try, but prepare for the worst. Life is funny, it will never go the way you want it to.

I type this from my dad’s apartment, which I moved back into, with the hopes of going back to school soon.

A few more things I want to mention while I’m here:

1. Value your family, always. No matter how dirty they do you.

2. It’s okay to hold your life on pause, to fix and reevaluate, as long as you make progress after.

3. Don’t rush to move out of your parents, you will feel lonely. Like really fucking lonely.

4. Don’t max out your new credit cards if you don’t want to be paying the bill (I’m currently still working on this)

5. Yes, these new Nike’s will make you feel like a bad bitch, but you worked 10 hours for this amount of money.

6. Don’t take a fucking 5 year loan out on a car that doesn’t hold value, shit drops value by the minute. Worst thing to ever invest in.

7. Treat your friends to lunch, and make sure they feel appreciated, even if it’s Wendy’s 4 for 4.

8. Last, but not least: don’t fucking litter please.

#chicago #januaryblues #lifelesson #tumblr #immigrant #lithuania #blog #long #text #read #story #biography #anonymous

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riverdaleroundup · 6 years

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Riverdale Roundup: 2x07 “ Tales From The Dark Side”

Here we are! Back at it again with the poorly spelled bitch seshes.

Okay so we open up with this artsy ass SVU esque true crime docu series news bulletin and i’m just like why? Why are we doing this? This is very that one episode of Grey's anatomy after the shooting when it was like a reality tv special about the hospital.

Okay anyway BH is like “ Okay you little trolls here's the deal. If you don’t sin for 48 hours I won’t murder all of you. Sound good?” but because this is riverdale everyone goes on with their sin filled lives like normal. Like here’s an idea, why don’t you all just take a long weekend, hang out at home with the shades drawn and watch some tv? But no everyone feels the need to do a little extra sinning because why not. It’s not like their lives are on the line or anything.

Archie and Jughead:

Betty and Jughead are all cuddled up in bed together and Betty is wearing his S shirt. But what Betty doesn’t know is that freaking Toni Topaz was lounging in that same shirt like 20 minutes ago when Jughead was getting it on with her…..so like drama. Philandering and Lying to your girlfriend? SIN.

Jughead talking to Penny Peabody even tho FP told him not to: Disobeying thy parents. SIN. Like he picks up the phone and it’s her. Hang up bitch! Don’t go get pancakes. Freak. UGH. Being a dumb little bitch: SIN. Okay so Penny is like “ your dad got jumped in the showers” and I watch so much SVU that i’m immediately like “ they’re going to talk about someone being sodomized on the CW? Holy shit.” but like they just hit him so like that’s a little more on brand.

Penny is like “ we need money” and Jughead is like “ sick I have 18 dollars’ and i’m like it’s so sad how relatable that is. So Penny is going to hook him up with a casual drug running job and i’m just like SIN.

Okay so Jughead needs to borrow Archies dad’s truck so he run some casual drugs and i’m like okay you still don’t have licenses and you still can’t drive but whatever. Jughead is like “ you owe me archie because you ruined my street race.” so now Archie has to help. They get this crate from a storage container (SIN) and they’re off. Archie is like “ Okay how much longer are you going to be a serpent” and Jughead is like “ you dumb bitch tattoos don’t just fall off after three months.” Archie basically proposes to Jughead talking about how he has his fantasy of them being roommates in New York and Jughead is a writer and Archie is a musician and i’m like okay so this really is going to become like RENT? Like in his 15 year old mind he thinks that straight out of high school they are all just going to move out to NYC together and get amazing jobs sans college degrees and live happily ever after. He’s watched too many episodes of Friends. They proceed to get a flat tire because of course they do. They have no spare because they are 15 and ill prepared. Archie wants to call triple C which is the cheap version of triple A and Jughead is like nah we are hauling drugs, like the tow truck is going to search their vehicle? Jug wants to call his boo Betty but Archie doesn’t want to get her mixed up in the drug trade and i’m like she’s just bringing you a tire not strapping a pound of jingle jangle to her person and going through TSA. This creepy ass guy comes along and is like y’all need a ride and i’m like DO NOT GO WITH THIS MAN YOU STUPID IDIOTS. But of course Jughead goes with this creepy guy who tells him not to look under his tarp and i’m like okay, you dumb idiot. Don’t do this. Jughead leaves archie on the side of the road and goes willingly with a creepy stranger. Being a dumb idiot and getting in the car with a scary stranger: SIN.

So the people of god think that the Black Hood is basically Jesus 2.0 and that he’s coming to rid the world of sin. So like Yikes. Archie sees a fucked up deer and then Jughead looks under the tarp and finds a dead deer and i’m like Oh dear. So the creepy ass man tells Jughead the story of the Riverdale Reaper who murdered this whole family and i’m like okay Jughead and Betty do all this freaking research about the murders and they never once heard of this? Did Alice Cooper tear that out of all the papers too? So this guy tries to stiff Jughead with the cheque and he’s like “ bro I already gave you my 18 dollars” but this guy doesn’t give a single fuck. He’s bouncing and he’s taking the drug crate with him.

Thankfully Archiekins rolls up and is ready to make it rain but only if they accept debit. Riverdale has never been so self aware. Like finally Archie is acting like an actual fifteen year old and using his debit card which is probably connected to his dad’s account so that Fred can monitor where Archie is spending his allowance.

Okay why can we not be in greendale after midnight? Is it because Sabrina the Teenage Witch is going to be out and doing spooky magic?

They roll up to the drop off site and are greeted by these creepy Russian gangsters which is just so convenient. Turns out Jughead is going to be their new little brug mule so he better get his ish together.

Jughead goes to visit FP and see’s that Daddy is fine and has not been jumped so like what the fuck Penny? Jughead goes to confront Penny and she’s like “listen up you little troll I own you now so like get the fuck used to it. You’re daddy like broke my heart or like didn’t give me a ride to the airport when he said he would so now I H8 you.” So like yikes.

Josie

When her names flashes up on the screen i’m like really? There’s a whole section just for her? Like I thought they just brought her in when they needed an upbeat musical number. She hangs around school late into the night so she can play the piano and i’m like do you not have one of those at home? Your Dad is like some big deal musician so like shouldn’t you have a piano? Can you not use an app on your ipad and play on that.

So the Mayor has moved them into a hotel because that’s going to be safer and i’m like okay??? Josie has to be back in the room by dark but like it’s winter so isn’t it dark by like 3pm? Does she have to skip the last period of school to make it home on time?

Both Josie and Cheryl look like they waltzed out of the 1970’s in their jumpsuits and heavily embellished tops. Josie is getting recruited to be a solo act so like bye bye pussy cats. She keeps getting creepy gifts in her locker and like in what world would a note that says “ i’m watching you be romantic?” Those are clearly not cute gifts but rather creepy little gestures that say I WANT TO MURDER YOU.

Chuck rolls up and asks Josie out and at first she’s all like “ ew no” and i’m like “ ew no” because he’s like gross and creepy and an asshole but by the end of the episode i’m like “ omg i love chuck. I don’t even know.” Josie asks if he’s putting stuff in her locker and he’s like “ I can be” which is not a yes so I don’t know why she takes it as a yes like ummm excuse me???? Josie goes to take a steam at the school and i’m like what kind of school has a steam room? Valarie and the other pussy cat whose name I do not know come and confront Josie about going solo which is very much like when the Cheetah Girls were in Barcelona and Adrienne Bailon was going to ditch the group to sing with that spanish girl and everyone got really pissed about it.

Josie runs into Chuck in the hallway and she’s like “ Thank god you're not a murderer, now drive me home.” and he’s like “ okay but first let's get french fries and fall in love.” Okay so don’t get me wrong i’m suddenly very team Chuck like out of the blue but what the heck happened to Reggie? They were like kind of hyping up a Josie Reggie thing like 20 minutes ago and now this? Whatever, Archie had like 67 love interests last season.

So Chuck talks about being a changed man and Pop is like “ ahh yes Chuck goes to my church. He is a man of god.” and i’m like okay did you pay him to say that Chuck? And Josie is thinking the same thing but like Chuck says he’s not that prepared. They then proceed to dance the night away and honestly they are not bad dancers but it’s just so random. Then the Mayor burst in and is like “ girl check your phone once in awhile” and then tells Josie to never speak to chuck again. It’s gearing up to be very Romeo and Juliet. Anyone up for a forbidden romance? The Mayor tells Josie about all these letters she’s been getting from these creeps and i’m like hot damn that's aggressive.

Cheryl is not team Chuck and makes that clear. Josie gets this creepy drawing and a box with a heart in it and I CALLED THAT I FUCKING CALLED IT BEING A HEART.

“ Out of the way Bert and Ernie” is so fucking Iconic.

Okay the janitor is around way too much to not have to do with something so like…..what’s the truth Mr. Spenceon?

Okay josie has a dream about dying and I honestly thought it actually happened and I was not pissed soooooo. Then we see Cheryl drawing this creepy ass drawing of Josie and like omg Cheryl you little liar. But I mean she just wants to keep her best friend to herself so like...I get it. Don’t think I wouldn’t do this Brittney.

Betty & Veronica

Okay so Kevin is worried about his dad because there is a killer on the prowl and the Sheriff has gotta catch him. Betty and Veronica both think they know what’s going on. Betty is like “ he’s def the killer” and Veronica is like “ he’s def having an affair” and then they look at each other like they’re both dumb bitches. Betty is a little too wrapped up in this mystery and thinks that literally everyone in this town who is male and above the age of 45 is the killer. She’s like “ Mr Phillips was killed in the police station soooo…” but literally 4 episodes ago Jughead was like “ okay anyone could break into the police station it’s so easy let's rescue my dad and send him to Canada.”

Veronica invites herself over to Kevin's house for a sleepover like an entitled bitch so that she can go snooping to figure out if the Sheriff is gettin it on with someone. Betty literally rolls up to the police station and is like “ What’s good Sheriff Keller. How the hell did BH get into the police station” and the Sheriff just shows her all this evidence and i’m like in what world would the HBIC of Riverdale Police just show all his evidence to this 15 year old girl?

So Veronica and Kevin are playing like Dungeons and Dragons or Mall Madness or something in his bedroom and Veronica is trying very hard not to slit her own wrists out of boredom. Again being entitled she decides to go get herself a drink but is actually just going to snoop around Sheriff Keller's underwear drawer or something. She calls Betty for advice and Betty is offended that she didn’t get an invite to the sleepover and i’m like same.

Veronica goes down to the basement and Sheriff Keller is pumping iron and looking very DILFy today. He and Veronica just hang out by the soda fridge for a while and we find out that Kevin's mom is in the army and i’m like ohhh she isn’t just skipping town like Jugheads mom and never looking back. Veronica is vibing with the Sheriff and honestly like wants him. Looks like Hiram isn’t the only one she’ll be calling Daddy (b) . But she doesn’t get any good info about if he is literally a mass murder or if he’s like fucking some random mom from the PTA. However if Veronica turns out to be wrong about him having an affair she would be more than willing to start one up #daddyissues.

Veronica see’s him sneaking out of his house and i’m like bitch it isn’t called sneaking out if you’re a literal adult and you own the property. He’s just leaving. Maybe he had a craving for some peanuts you don’t know.

Betty is grasping at straws to make Keller the killer and Veronica is defending her man to the end. Betty knows that the sheriff is hiding hiding something but Veronica knows that the only thing he’s hiding is a hot bod (b). Betty breaks into the Keller house (SIN) and starts going through his personal property. She finds a murder board and is like “Omg proof that he’s the killer!” and I’m like “ Or maybe he’s the literally chief of police who has to solve the murders” like we’ve seen him make murder boards before. The sheriff rolls back up and is like “ Wtf Betty what are you doing in here?”

So Betty brings her good for nothing father to the police station to talk to Keller and he lays down all the evidence to show that he’s innocent. Betty and Veronica follow the sheriff and find out that he’s gettin it in with the Mayor at some sleeze motel (SIN) and i’m like how many hotel rooms does she have? Veronica is heartbroken. Clearly. Veronica and Betty decide to keep this a secret and lie to Kevin ( SIN) Cheryl is like poisoning Josie with that tea (SIN).

Pop is the new Betty and gets a call from the Black Hood. BH knows that they have all been sinning aggressively and he’s coming to mirder them. So yikes.

Honestly everyone is sinning all over the place do I don’t know what these bitches expected?? They all wear polyester and I bet somewhere someone is eating shellfish. Also Moose wasn’t in this episode so….SIN.

#riverdale #riverdale roundup #the cw riverdale #the cw #betty cooper #Bughead #jughead #jughead jones #betty x jughead #cheryl blossom #varchie

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initiala · 7 years

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this idea hit me while driving to work. I blame weird logos for unrelated businesses and binging on Brooklyn 99. an Outlaw Queen surprise for @idoltina

A chime sounded somewhere in the back of the store, breaking the otherwise silent gun range. Regina took a breath to calm her nerves, then squared her shoulders and marched to the counter. No one seemed to be manning the desk, but she figured -- hoped -- that the door alarm had signaled whichever slacker was working today to take her business.

“Sorry, sorry --” A British accent cut through her thoughts, somewhere in a back room. “Be right there!”

Regina allowed herself to drum her nails against the glass case once before distracting herself by inspecting the guns for rent. She didn’t bring her own -- wasn’t allowed to have hers back until she passed the requalification -- and it irked her to have to borrow one that would likely be too... unpolished. Battered. Uncared for.

Having a firearm was not a particular favorite of being a detective, but the one she did have was regularly cleaned, adjusted, and fit in her hand like an extension of herself.

She looked up as a man came out of the back room, apologizing all the while. She took him in as she might a suspect in a case -- medium height for a man, sandy brown hair, blue eyes, scruffy beard, dressed for the outdoors -- and waited for him to stop speaking. “I need to rent time on the range,” she said shortly. “Nine mil should be fine for now. And I need a spotter. I’m on limited time, so I don’t need someone chatty or who thinks they know how to fire a weapon better than me. Are we clear?”

The man raised an eyebrow, giving her a skeptical look before nodding once and picking out a Smith & Wesson for her, slapping a box of ammo down next to the case, and then beckoning her to the unusually quiet range.

Regina had deliberately picked mid-morning on a Tuesday for this, knowing the range would be decently, if not completely, empty. People worked, after all. And since she was practically being ordered to start preparing herself for a return to field work, this counted as working.

Even if it was the last thing she wanted to be doing right now.

She stalled for time, inspecting every inch of the handgun and doing everything short of taking the damn thing apart and reassembling it herself to get a feel for how it was put together. She was careful loading the magazine, careful putting her protective goggles and earmuffs on.

She was careful as she took the proper stance, gun pointed downrange at her target, and did nothing.

Panic did not claw its way up her back the way it had six months ago when she’d tried this last. She did not have flashes of memory, didn’t see Henry’s face in place of the unfamiliar children she’d been trying to recover from their estranged father a year ago. She didn’t smell smoke from the dumpster fire the man had started as a distraction, she didn’t have any of the signs of the post-traumatic stress that had kept her from being shifted from desk duty back to field work.

But she couldn’t fire the gun.

She didn’t know how long she stood there before she abruptly flicked the safety back on, discharged the magazine, and set both handgun and ammo on the shelf. She stepped back over the line as she took off the earmuffs and slid the safety goggles up on top of her head, taking several breaths.

Why couldn’t she do this?

She didn’t say anything as she packed everything back up, and blessedly neither did the range master, even as she paid him for something she didn’t use. He almost refused her money -- she saw it in his eyes -- but she silently insisted and he took it without a word, handing her a receipt.

The only thing he said was “Have a good afternoon, ma’am,” as she left, her back still straight and her shoulders still square.

Still, something compelled her to go back there the next week, and the week after that, and the week after that.

She’d gone to a few different ranges over the last year, every venture a failed attempt at regaining her right to own a firearm and her ability to use one for her job, but something about the quiet acceptance at On Target made the whole harrowing experience less embarrassing. The range master said nothing, offered no judgments, as she returned week after week and basically threw her money in his face to stand in a bunker like an idiot for thirty minutes. Lucky this was work-related and the station counted it as work expenses to compensate, but part of her scolded herself for throwing away hundreds of dollars every month that could otherwise be used for her son’s school supplies or replacing the school uniform that she swore he grew out of every other week.

But something about this place made it easy to return to, even as she failed to discover why exactly she couldn’t accomplish what she’d come to do.

One Tuesday, about six weeks into this futile exercise, the range master was waiting for her at the counter. “I have something I want you to try,” he said, beckoning her to follow.

It was the first thing he’d said to her in weeks. Curious, Regina followed him to the outside range; curiouser was the fact that he handed her a bow and indicated a case full of arrows. “I’ve been pondering this for some time,” the range master said. “Perhaps the key is not to keep beating yourself against the wall in hopes of breaking it down, but learning how the wall is built, brick-by-brick.”

Regina raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his analogy and annoyed that he was putting her off track. “What, exactly, does playing Cowboys and Indians have to do with walls and gunfire?”

The range master grinned. “Well, I would have you start with throwing spears or slingshots, but neither are weapons I am qualified to teach. Instead, we start with another primitive firearm. From what I’ve observed, you’re quite comfortable with the weapon in your hand, but it’s the act of firing that’s causing you to freeze up.”

“I do not freeze up,” Regina snapped. Her patience was almost gone, thin already from the shoddy police work her beat cops were doing on a case. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but I am not paying you to teach me how to play with twigs and string, nor lecture me on how I’m supposed to figure out my own idiocy. I am paying you to let me try and fire a damn gun.”

“My name is Robin, Detective Mills, and with all due respect you’re paying me to waste both of our time when we both could be doing more valuable things with it.” At her stunned look, he nodded at her belt. “Badge, ma’am, and you answered your phone once on the way out the door with your name and rank. And you pay with a credit card. I may run a simple shooting range, but I work with a lot of police officers and I am not simple.”

Regina closed her mouth, staring at him hard for a long moment. Something in her shifted, as if a puzzle she’d been trying to piece together was shifted and suddenly the pieces started to fit. It had never occurred to her to ask his name, though he was there every week and had done as she asked every time. It did occur to her, however, that she should probably feel ashamed of her behavior, but at this point in her life she could only summon a small amount of contrition. “Fine,” she said, her voice softer in concession. “Robin.”

He nodded, one corner of his mouth quirking up, then proceeded to explain. Apparently, his line of thinking was that she needed to get comfortable with shooting projectiles first. Arrows were not nearly as expensive as bullets and were reusable; they were also more finicky than bullets, requiring more concentration and easily taken off-track by the wind.

It was enormously frustrating.

Robin was trying not to laugh, she knew it, but his voice was calm as he stepped in close. “May I correct your form?”

He was warm, practically radiating heat along her back as he placed his hands on hers to fix her grip. Regina was aware of his breath on her ear as he quietly explained why her hand needed to grip here and how she should pinch the arrow between her fingers like this. She stepped with him when he nudged her feet, correcting her stance, and stood with her as she drew the string back, letting him bring the string to rest against her cheek.

Everywhere their bodies touched tingled with warmth and awareness.

They loosed. The arrow flew. It struck one of the middle rings.

Regina laughed, a gusty whoosh of air from her lungs that felt like the first time she’d laughed in a year. Giddy with the success, she forgot about the warmth and the tingling awareness of bodies too close, and she turned to find Robin’s face too close to hers. She was warm again, her cheeks this time, and her eyes flicked from his down to his lips and back up again, but he apparently paid no notice to their close proximity. Instead, he grinned and told her to do it again, this time without his help.

It got easier, even as she found her back suddenly cold even on this balmy spring day. Robin fixed her stance or her grip here and there, but never again in such an intimate way.

At the end of their time, Robin declared her sufficiently competent. “I won’t be giving you a bow hunting license anytime soon, particularly as moving targets are quite difficult, but you’re a fair shot.”

Regina ducked her head, tucking her hair behind her ear to hide her smile.

They did bow work for another week before Robin presented her with a new challenge: crossbow. “Packs a punch to the target, so we’ll give you a longer range to work on. There’s a slight kick when you pull the trigger, so that should be familiar to you.”

It was, in a startling sort of way. He only had to show her once how to load and how to hold the crossbow for her to understand. Between her old familiarity with guns and her new familiarity with arrows, it wasn’t difficult at all to pick it up. Robin moved her to longer ranges and she felt his eyes on her as she slowly mastered each target. Once, she looked up and caught his gaze; it was startling enough to see him smiling at her so softly that she didn’t hesitate to return it.

“So what’s next?” Regina asked when all of her bolts had been fired downrange. The archery butts had an employee to collect the arrows from the targets, leaving Robin and Regina free to pack up the crossbow and head back inside. “Another week on this, or are you moving me to muskets and bayonets next?”

Robin chuckled and Regina found it interesting how he found her comments funny rather than irritating; all of her partners at work had made pointed comments about it at one point or another, her brothers dealt with it by trying to out-snark her until they all hated one another, and her son was entirely too sweet-natured for her to be particularly snippy at -- unless he left his shoes on the stairs again. “No, unless you want to pay for double the time and extra for unpacked gunpowder. It takes bloody ages to load those. No, we’ll go for a shotgun or rifle next, reacquaint you with gunpowder and bullets, and after that we’ll see how you adjust to handguns again.”

Regina nodded, vowing to ignore the sudden return of anxious gnawing in her gut. Robin hesitated a moment, then put his hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Detective. I promise.”

She resolutely refused to rub the spot his hand had touched as she left.

It was not fine.

Well, not at first. Regina loaded the shotgun, familiar with the two-barrel system and the need to reload often, but when it came time to actually fire...

She didn’t freeze, no matter what Robin said. She just didn’t pull the trigger.

However, it shocked her that he just up and left the range. Shocked, and a little hurt if she was being honest with herself for once. It felt like he was giving up on her, like he’d finally decided that she wasn’t enough, that she wasn’t worth seeing through to the end -- Regina shook her head. No, she was allowing herself to be fanciful. She was paying him to let her use this space, to practice and hone her skills. Robin had taken on more of an active role than a passive one, and she was grateful for the help he’d offered, but she didn’t need him to babysit her. Though she’d asked for a spotter, he’d likely send in another employee -- he was decent as a range master in that way.

She resettled her stance and stared down the barrel at the target, trying to use her conflicting emotions as fuel to pull the trigger. Her finger settled on the metal and she willed herself to pull...

Regina dropped her stance in disgust, hating herself for being unable to jump over this hurdle.

Movement caught her eye and she looked over at the door -- shock returned, and a warmth in her chest she couldn’t put a name to. Robin held a shotgun in the crook of one arm and a box of ammo in the other. She moved the earmuffs off of one ear to hear him say, “We’ll do a few rounds -- first one to fire twenty shots into the target wins. Second round will be clusters, a challenge with these guns. Third will be timed kill shots. Come on, Detective, where’s your competitive spirit?”

Regina barely got her earmuffs back on in time before Robin got into position and fired downrange. He glanced over at her, giving her a clear, challenging look, and fired again.

Well, Regina was hardly one to back down from a challenge.

He graciously allowed her two shots, and from there it was a race to finish. Regina let herself fall into a familiar, comfortable competitive mindset, focusing on nothing else but the goal at hand -- beat this man who somehow knew every trick in the book to get her over herself.

Even her brothers couldn’t get into her head this much, and Liam was her twin.

Robin still won the first round, but Regina took the second. She prided herself on her ability to cluster-fire. The third they had to declare a tie; they had another employee in with a stopwatch and they went one at a time to see how quickly they could fire six rounds into the head and chest of the target, but the time was so close that the fractions of fractions a second were too minuscule to really matter.

Regina felt better than she had in ages. She wasn’t sure how the handgun would go, but just being able to say she’d come this far exhilarated her. Her shoulder would ache from the shotgun’s kick and it was absolutely worth it. “I’d say I should buy you a drink in thanks, but with all the money I’ve given you I probably can’t afford it,” she said as they walked back to the front.

Robin looked at her with a raised eyebrow, that lopsided smile on his face. “And considering you’re paying me for a service, it’s likely inappropriate, but the sentiment is appreciated anyway, Detective.”

She inclined her head, a concession to that bit of truth. “Still, I’d probably still be standing there like an imbecile if it wasn’t for you. I don’t give thanks or praise easily, so I would cherish this if I were you.”

“You just needed the proper motivation, that’s all. I find that appealing to one’s baser instincts often helps.”

His words tripped her up slightly -- a slight hesitation in her step, allowing his longer strides to propel him to the door faster and giving her a moment to watch the way his vest hiked up and showed the plaid shirt underneath twisting its way to freedom from his well-worn jeans as he pulled open the door. “Indeed it does,” Regina murmured, following him inside.

“You’re not taking the qualifications here then, are you?” Robin asked on her second week with the .9mm.

Regina shook her head. Last week had been difficult, but he’d insisted on competing with her again to get her used to the feeling again. She’d gone three rounds with him before asking if she could take some shots by herself.

This week, she’d begin and end alone.

“We have a facility,” she explained. “It’s too... much, though. For this. I like the space to practice, to get used to things again.”

“No one watching too closely,” Robin suggested.

“Present company excepted.”

He chuckled at that and Regina slid the earmuffs on. The weight of the gun in her hand felt more comfortable now, the knowledge of what came next less unsettling than it had been in previous weeks.

But though her finger tightened on the trigger, she couldn’t pull.

Hot fury burned through her, angry at herself and her choices and her lack of conviction. Though she fumed, trying to psych herself up for it, she felt Robin’s presence behind her and didn’t jump when he laid a hand on her shoulder. She set the gun on the ledge and removed the earmuffs. “What?” she asked, her voice quiet in self-defeat.

“Deep breaths, Detective. You don’t have to prove anything today. You haven’t signed up for a test. It’s just practice.”

“But I do,” she said. “If nothing else, I have to prove to myself that I can do this, that I can get past--” She broke off. She hadn’t told him -- anyone, save for her captain and the precinct’s shrink -- why she’d been pulled from field work. She took a breath. “A year ago, a man kidnapped his own children. He didn’t have custody. I had the lead on the case, tracked him down. He got violent -- with us, not the children, but used them as human shields. The boy was my own son’s age, so pale and scared... I froze up. Someone else took the shot, took out the father, and they got the kids out relatively unharmed. I don’t... generally my line of work doesn’t deal with many children. Special Victims gets the brunt of it. This was a special circumstance, and I think realizing that my son is just as likely to be hurt, or that I could leave him an orphan again...”

“It got to you,” Robin said.

Regina nodded. “I adopted Henry when he was just a few days old. It’s been just me, though my brothers help when they can. It’s good for him to have male role models in his life, though I question Killian sometimes. I know they’d care for him if something happened to me, but I’d rather not have to put my son through the loss of a third parent.”

Robin’s hand was warm on her shoulder. “I understand. My wife died in childbirth several years ago, complications. I would do anything -- fight my way back from the seventh layer of Hell -- to ensure my own son isn’t left alone in the world. It’s commendable that you’re even trying this. I’m not sure I’d be able to.”

“I’m practically being forced,” she admitted. “But I admit that I’ve been getting bored sitting at a desk all day. I’d do a lot more good by being in the field again, and I wouldn’t have to threaten junior officers every other hour for missing steps in policy and procedure.”

She felt Robin’s soft chuckle more than she heard it, a soft vibration just behind her. He was close enough that she could easily detect his woodsy scent. “Funny, you seem the type to enjoy threatening someone.”

Regina smiled wryly. “On occasion. Though it loses its enjoyment after too much use.”

“I see. Well, then to preserve what good is left in the world, I suggest you buck up, Detective Mills. The bad guys won’t arrest themselves, and perhaps after this I’ll let you buy me that drink,” Robin said, and he stepped back.

Regina looked behind her, raising an eyebrow. “After I arrest someone, or after I empty this magazine?”

He gave her what could only be described as a cheeky grin. “Whichever happens to come first, Detective.”

Her other eyebrow went up and she couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, if I’m going to be buying drinks, you’d better start calling me Regina.”

She settled the earmuffs over her ears once again and hefted the gun. She raised it, lining up the sight with her target at the far end of the range.

She took a deep breath, and fired.

#outlaw queen #oq ff #oq fanfic #outlaw queen ff #outlaw queen fanfiction #ouat ff #idoltina #amanda writes #gun cw #i don't knowwwwwwwww #you ever just have a scene in your brain and then you're like 'well yeah gotta write that now #that was this #just a scene blooming in my brain

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classicfilmfreak · 7 years

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New Post has been published on http://www.classicfilmfreak.com/2017/10/05/the-devil-and-miss-jones-1941/

The Devil and Miss Jones (1941) starring Jean Arthur and Charles Coburn

A neglected little masterpiece full of charm and good humor.

You would be in good company with many of the characters in this little comedy, The Devil and Miss Jones. The head of the shoe division in Neeley’s department store, named, simply enough, Mary Jones (Jean Arthur), is a tower of strength, offering advice and encouragement to all. Her boyfriend, Joe O’Brien (Robert Cummings), recently fired from the store, is a labor union organizer often in need of reassurance. A darlingly sweet clerk, Elizabeth (Spring Byington, in a soft, unfussy role this time, for a change) is at the forefront in converting one of the villains in our little story.

The first of these, whom you might not at first like, is J. P. Merrick (Charles Coburn), supposedly the richest man in the world. Among his holdings is Neeley’s department store, where he poses as just another clerk to expose agitators and fire incompetents, or those who simply offend him. For those due a comeuppance, he records their names in his little “doomsday” pocket notepad.

The second villain, unredeemable as it will prove and who is Merrick’s first notepad entry to be fired, is the nasty shoe department section manager, known frostily only as “Mr. Hooper” (Edmund Gwenn, cast against his usual type of affability and benevolence).

Although The Devil and Miss Jones is an RKO film, the main title opens like a Universal movie, with Coburn, a scowl on his face and surrounded by flames, obviously the “devil” of the title, with appropriate demonic music by Roy Webb. The camera pans right, to Arthur, her halo and innocent smile accompanied by contrasting angelic music. She looks to her right, spies Coburn and blows heartily, putting out his flames and deepening his scowl.

Producer Frank Ross and screenwriter Norman Krasna (nominated for an Oscar) borrowed $600,000 from the bank to make the The Devil and Miss Jones, the first of two starring Arthur. The second and last film in the short-lived production company was A Lady Takes a Chance (1943), opposite John Wayne.

The Devil and Miss Jones opens as three limousines, viewed from a low camera beneath towering New York skyscrapers, arrive at a stately mansion. A solemn-faced businessman emerges from each of the first two cars and two from the third: Edwin Maxwell (the opera board chairman in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, 1936), Montagu Love (Henry VIII in The Prince and the Pauper, 1937); Richard Carle (Gaston in Ninotchka, 1939) and Charles Waldron (General Sternwood in The Big Sleep, 1946).

With portentous music, the large glass doors of the mansion are opened by the butler, George (S. Z. Sakall, Carl in Casablanca, 1942). He leads the quartet of gentlemen into a great hall where they sit nervously and wait . . . and wait.

Presently, J. P. Merrick enters and the four men, clearly yes-men of the first order, mull over a front-page newspaper showing an effigy of their boss during a recent union demonstration.

“I pay you a great deal,” an angry Merrick tells them, “to take care of my interests and my privacy. I want my privacy. I haven’t had my photograph in a newspaper in twenty years.”

After Merrick has abruptly dismissed the men, a detective they have hired, Thomas Higgins (Robert Emmett Keane, Burton in Boys Town, 1938), enters with a scheme to expose the department store culprits—in “two or three weeks,” after his wife has had a baby, of course. Merrick discharges him. He thinks he can assume Higgins’ name and do a better job himself, undercover, in two or three days.

Merrick arrives at work as Thomas Higgins and reports to Hooper, who immediately irritates him. Afterward, Higgins will write in his notepad, “Fire Station Manager.”

Higgins is assigned to slippers, and is quickly encouraged by Mary, head of the shoe department: “Don’t forget people can always do without slippers. They have to be convinced.”

He at first refuses to take his lunch hour, because at home he pampers a weak stomach with milk and Graham crackers and carries pepsin-flavored chewing gum in his coat pocket. But upon Mary’s insistence, he takes the hour off, asking to just sit withElizabeth, that he isn’t hungry.

After much persuasion, he reluctantly takes the tuna fish popover she offers him, her own “invention,” she says. After a bite or two, she asks him how he likes it. “I don’t know yet,” he replies. When he finishes the popover, he admits, “Tastes good.”

During the day, an irate young man, Joe O’Brien, handcuffs himself to a heating pipe, protesting the firing of him and other employees who tried to organize and announcing a union meeting that evening. He is hauled away by two store detectives.

Before all the employees, tears in her eyes, Mary gives an emotional testimonial, asking Higgins to stand as an example of how Neeley’s will discard him for a younger man. Higgins looks about, perplexed, irritated and disbelieving. Afterward, Elizabeth purrs, “You were wonderful.” He replies, “I didn’t do anything.”

When he returns home after work, he tells George no more Graham crackers: he wants a lunch of tuna fish popovers to take to work next day in a shoe box. When George protests that the chef has never made popovers, Merrick barks, “Then get one who does. If certain people can make them on a little gas strove, then that idiot downstairs ought to be able to make them.”

Next day, Elizabeth asks Mary to ask Higgins to go with her to Coney Island with Mary and Joe. He agrees when he discovers that Hooper has been taking her out. Higgins brings from his cellar a bottle of his finest wine, label removed, to impress his new-found friends, but they find it awful, preferring the “wine” made by the grandfather of Joe’s iceman, who stomps on the grapes in the bathtub with his feet. “Why didn’t he take his socks off?” Higgins surmises.

In a long sketch, Higgins wanders away from the group in search of the bathhouse where he had exchanged his street clothes for swimming attire. In trying to sell his expensive watch to make a phone call to his chauffeur, he is deemed suspicious by a policeman (Regis Toomey, Sanders in His Girl Friday, 1940) and brought before a police station sergeant (Edward McNamara, another police sergeant in Arsenic and Old Lace, 1944). Joe and Mary arrive shortly. Joe uses his legal knowledge to intimidate the policemen into releasing Higgins.

At the end of the Coney Island visit, Joe gives up on crusading for the employees and discards his list of four hundred names, those who support unionizing. Higgins hands it to Mary, who suggests he keep it.

On the return from Coney Island, Mary finds the real Higgins’ business card which the masquerading Higgins accidentally drops, identifying him as a spy for the department store. She tells a stunned Joe, who suggests she “get him” in the store the next day—and retrieve the list of names.

In a comic sequence, Mary finds the heaviest possible shoe in the stock room to use to knock out Higgins, hesitating more than once until she is saved the trouble when a heavy riding boot falls from the top shelf and renders him unconscious.

Higgins is revived and hauled to the store manager, Mr. Allison (Walter Kingsford, Dr. Walter Carew in the Dr. Kildare series, 1937-1947). Higgins speaks up for the employees, which changes Mary’s mind about him. When Allison agrees to concessions if they can prove there are four hundred employees who support unionizing, Higgins produces the list from his coat pocket. Allison reneges and insults Higgins. In a scene worthy of the Marx Brothers, Mary takes a flying leap across Allison’s desk, retrieves the list and she and Higgins run about the office, each eating half the shared list. Joe struggles with Hooper. Mary later commandeers the store intercom and calls for all employees to leave their work and unite in a protest.

From his mansion, Higgins slips unnoticed among the protesters and says he has arranged a meeting between Merrick’s board of governors and representatives of the employees. Still unaware of Higgins’ true identity, Mary, Joe and Elizabeth file into the boardroom with Higgins. The yes-men out-yes themselves in agreeing with Merrick when he supports points made by the workers.

Elizabeth is brought to tears by an insult and leans against Higgins. The board members rush to his aid. “Are you all right, Mr. Merrick?” “Are you hurt, Mr. Merrick?” Stunned by the much-delayed revelation, Elizabeth pulls away, Mary slides down the wall in a scream and Joe faints.

But all is resolved. Next scene, in an ocean liner ballroom, employees and executives dance together, Merrick and Joe with their new brides. And to a chorus of “He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” sung for Merrick, everyone is off to Honolulu.

The obvious star of The Devil and Miss Jones is Charles Coburn, alternating brilliantly between the wicked Merrick—lovable, somehow, even then—and the strong but affable Higgins. He earned an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor, although he is more than “supporting.” He would win a much-deserved Oscar two years later for The More the Merrier, also with Arthur.

Although Coburn steals the limelight in The Devil and Miss Jones, the others handle their parts well. Jean Arthur is her usual dependable self—did she ever give a weak performance? Robert Cummings’ dramatic limitations as an actor aren’t, by the nature of the comedy, here exposed, and his strongest suit as a light comedian is boyishly displayed. Spring Byington is, as said earlier, “soft” and “sweet.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bnw87j_ow78

#Charles Coburn #Jean Arthur #Robert Cummings

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