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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months

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Big Train managers earn bonuses for greenlighting unsafe cars

Tomorrow (November 16) I'll be in Stratford, Ontario, appearing onstage with Vass Bednar as part of the CBC IDEAS Festival. I'm also doing an afternoon session for middle-schoolers at the Stratford Public Library.

Almost no one knows this, but last June, a 90-car train got away from its crew in Hernando, MS, rolling three miles through two public crossings, a ghost train that included 47 potentially explosive propane cars. The "bomb train" neither crashed nor derailed, which meant that Grenada Railroad/Gulf & Atantic didn't have to report it.

This is just one of many terrifying near-misses that are increasingly common in America's hyper-concentrated, private equity-dominated rail sector, where unsafe practices dominate and whistleblowers face brutal retaliation for coming forward to regulators.

These unsafe practices – and the corporate policies that deliberately gave rise to them – are documented in terrifying, eye-watering detail in a deeply reported Propublica story by Topher Sanders, Jessica Lussenhop,Dan Schwartz, Danelle Morton and Gabriel L Sandoval:

https://www.propublica.org/article/railroad-safety-union-pacific-csx-bnsf-trains-freight

It's a tale of depraved indifference to public safety, backstopped by worker intimidation. The reporting is centered on railyard maintenance inspectors, who are charged with writing up "bad orders" to prevent unsafe railcars from shipping out. As private equity firms consolidated rail into an ever-dwindling number of companies, these workers face supervisors who are increasingly hostile to these bad orders.

It got so alarming that some staffers started carrying hidden digital recorders, so they could capture audio of their bosses illegally ordering them to greenlight railcars that were too unsafe for use. The article features direct – and alarming – quotes, like supervisor Andrew Letcher, boss of the maintenance crews at Union Pacific's Kansas City yard saying, "If I was an inspector on a train I would probably let some of that nitpicky shit go."

Letcher – and fellow managers for other Tier 1 railroads quoted in the piece – aren't innately hostile to public safety. They are quite frank about why they want inspectors to "let that nitpicky shit go." As Letcher explains, "The first thing that I’m getting questioned about right now, every day, is why we’re over 200 bad orders and what we’re doing to get them down."

In other words, corporate rail owners have ordered their supervisors to reduce the amount of maintenance outages on the rail lines, but have not given them additional preventative maintenance budgets or crew. These supervisors warn their employees that high numbers of bad orders could cost them their jobs, even lead to the shutdown of the car shops where inspectors are prone to pulling dangerous cars out of service.

It's a ruthless form of winnowing. Gresham's Law holds that "bad money drives out good" – in an economy where counterfeit money circulates, people preferentially spend their fake money to get it out of their hands, until all the money in circulation is funny money. This is the rail safety equivalent: simply fire everyone who reports unsafe conditions and all your railcars will be deemed safe, with the worst railcars shipped out first. A market for lemons – except these aren't balky used sedans, they're unsafe railcars full of toxic chemicals or explosive propane.

When cataclysmic rail disasters occur – like this year's East Palestine derailment – the rail industry reassures us that this is an isolated incident, pointing to the system's excellent overall safety record. But that record is a mirage, because the near-misses don't have to be reported. Those near-misses are coming more frequently, as the culture of profit over safety incurs a mounting maintenance debt, filling America's rails with potential "bomb cars."

Rail mergers and other forms of deregulated, anything-goes capitalism are justified by conservative economists who insist that "incentives matter," and that the profit motive provides the incentive to improve efficiency, leading to lower costs and better service. But the incentive to externalize risk, kick the can down the road, and capture regulators rarely concerns the "incentives matter" crowd.

Here's an incentive that matters. Rail managers' bonuses – as much as a fifth of their take home pay – are only paid if the trains they oversee run on time. Inspectors have recorded their managers admitting that they have quotas – a maximum number of bad orders their facility may produce, irrespective of how much unsafe rolling stock passes through the facility.

Inspectors have caught their managers removing repair order tags from cars they've flagged as unsafe. Inspectors will log orders in a database, only to have the record mysteriously deleted, or marked as serviced when no service has occurred. Some inspectors have seen the same cars in their yard with the same problems, and repeatedly flagged them without any maintenance being performed before they're shipped out again.

Former managers from Union Pacific, CSX and Norfolk Southern told Propublica that they operated in an environment where safety reports were discouraged, and that workers who filed these reports were viewed as "complainers." Workers furnished Propublica with recordings of rail managers berating them for reporting persistent unsafe conditions the Federal Railroad Administration. Other workers from BNSF said that they believed that their bosses were told when they called the company's "confidential" work-safety tipline, setting them up for retaliation by bosses who'd falsified safety reports.

Whistleblowers who seek justice at OSHA are stymied by long delays, and while switching their cases to court can win them cash settlements, these do not get recorded on the company's safety record, which allows the company to go on claiming to be a paragon of safety and prudence.

The culture of retaliation is pervasive, which explains how the 47-cars worth of propane on the "bomb train" that rolled unattended over three miles of track never made the news. There is a voluntary Close Call Reporting System (operated by NASA!) where rail companies can report these disasters. Not one of America's Class 1 rail companies participate in it.

After the East Palestine disaster, Transport Secretary Pete Buttigieg pushed the rail companies to join, but a year later, none have. It's part of an overall pattern with Secretary Buttigieg, who has prodigious, far-reaching powers under USC40 Section 41712(a), which allow him to punish companies for "unfair and deceptive" practices or "unfair methods of competition":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

Buttigieg can't simply hand down orders under 41712(a) – to wield this power, he must follow administrative procedures, conducting market studies, seeking comment, and proposing a rule. Other members of the Biden administration with similar powers, like FTC chair Lina Khan, arrived in office with a ranked-priority list of bad corporate conduct and immediately set about teeing up rules to give relief to the American public.

By contrast, Buttigieg's agency has done precious little to establish the evidentiary record to punish the worst American companies under its remit. His most-touted achievement was to fine five airlines for saving money by cancelling their flights and stranding their passengers. But of the five airlines affected by Buttigieg's order, four were not US companies. The sole affected US carrier was Spirit airlines, with 2% of the market. The Big Four US airlines – who have a much worse record than the ones that were fined – were not affected at all:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/ftc-noncompete-airline-flight-cancellation-buttigieg/

Rather than directly regulating the US transportation sector, Buttigieg prefers exacting nonbinding promises from them (like the Tier 1 rail companies' broken promise to sign up to the Close Call Reporting System). Under his leadership, the Federal Railroad Agency has proposed weakening rail safety standards, rescinding an order to improve the braking systems on undermaintained, mile-long trains carrying potentially deadly freight:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/dinah-wont-you-blow/#ecp

The US transportation system is accumulating a terrifying safety debt, behind a veil of corporate secrecy. It badly demands direct regulation and close oversight.

If you are interested in rail safety, I strongly recommend this episode of Well There's Your Problem, "a podcast about engineering disasters, with slides" – you will laugh your head off and then never sleep again:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0BMQTdYXaH8

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/15/safety-third/#all-the-livelong-day

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radioactivepeasant · 3 months

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Surprise Snippet because I didn't get time to post a schedule this week

(Woe: Summer Reading Programs be upon me)

But because I can never resist giving Damas of Spargus a hard time, I propose the following scenario: Jak carries germs from Sandover that modern people aren't vaccinated against. Modern people like Damas. And because Jak doesn't do anything by halves, it's a disease that only effects channelers because it's a non-dark-eco eco imbalance.

In his roughly twelve years as king of Spargus, Damas had dealt with the occasional illness. In the two years before he took the throne, he'd gotten all manner of unpleasant ailments. Crane Cough, White Flu, Dust Colic, even! And that was something most Wastelanders grew out of in infancy! But vaccinations were for the elite. For everyone else it was survive or die, unless you were willing to hand over your entire artifact intake for the week.

Damas had been one of the lucky ones: being a channeler meant he recovered far more quickly than some of the other recent exiles.

He'd grown complacent since then. A germ could be dealt with in no more than a day or two with a little eco and a couple hours of rest. He could pinpoint the early warning signs of every disease common to Spargus and Haven alike.

That was, in hindsight, the first sign that Jak had not originally come from Haven. Because whatever was rattling around in that bullheaded kid's immune system was like nothing the doctor had ever seen before.

It started so innocuously. A slight pain behind his eardrums that he could ignore. Stiffness in the joints that he put down to having finally passed forty. Something sluggish in the chest, almost like anxiety.

He already had Anxiety, that didn't narrow anything down at all.

And then, without warning, the symptoms all combined and intensified. It felt like influenza, but without the respiratory distress. Worse somehow.

The boy was present when the symptoms crossed from incubation to a full manifestation of whatever hell he'd just contracted. The timing could hardly be worse: he'd just finished reprimanding two young scouts for fighting in the vehicle pit. And of course, Jak had been one of those scouts. He'd thrown the first punch, because of course he had, but at least it hadn't been unprovoked this time.

"At least". As if there being two guilty parties was somehow better.

Evidently young Kwan had proposed some kind of bet revolving around artifacts, and suggested that the loser would have to go shirtless for a day and show off their scars.

Damas didn't support Jak breaking his nose, but seeing as he was convinced that every Wastelander under twenty-five had some degree of senselessness, he supposed it was probably a valuable lesson for Kwan.

Which did, unfortunately, make it hard to rule fairly between them.

Ultimately, Kwan was given a sharp rebuke about goading non-consenting comrades into bets -- especially when some degree of their autonomy was on the line.

Jak's reprimand was more along the lines of warning him to either walk away or find an older Wastelander to handle things, blast it all-!

But seeing as Jak was the first one to throw a punch, it was Jak who had to forfeit the artifacts he'd picked up for the day in order to pay for the eco Kwan would need.

Not that this stopped Damas from adding that this hadn't been the first time Kwan's love of bets had gotten him into trouble, but by Volcan it had better be the last.

A rather shame-faced Kwan had just left the tower -- like rot was Damas going to allow them to occupy the same elevator at the same time, somebody would be dead before the ground floor -- when the lung cramps started.

"I'm...sorry," Jak was in the middle of saying, with extreme reluctance, "for fighting in the garages. I'm not sorry for hitting him, though."

When his only answer was an unnaturally wet sounding cough, he looked up to find Damas clinging to his staff for support. His other hand gripped his chest, veins standing out. He'd gone pale.

"Oh shi- Damas!" Jak ran up the stairs. "What's wrong?"

"Are you choking?" Daxter asked in loud, exaggeratedly slow words, "Do you need assistance?"

What's it look like?! Damas wanted to shout, but he could barely get his lungs to expand enough to breathe, let alone speak.

Something bitter and hot flooded his mouth on the next cough.

At least his lungs had reopened with the ejection of the fluid, but he couldn't help wondering if he'd just coughed up a vital organ. Damas spat, and something thick and colorless splattered across his boots. It wasn't bile, nor mucus. There were, on closer inspection, specks of color floating in it. Green, red, yellow, blue- the colors of eco, but far more saturated than they had any right to be.

Jak pulled his fingerless glove off and laid the back of his hand against Damas’s forehead like he was a child. Just as quickly, he removed it.

"Uh. Have you been having like...a lot of aches? Joints and jaws and stuff?" he asked nervously.

Damas glared at him, but ultimately nodded.

"Crap. Crap crap- uhhhh okay. Okay!" Jak ran his fingers through his hair.

"Damas, you gotta sit down, okay? It's Blackwater virus, so altitude is bad, right?"

"Th' rot's* Blackwater?" Damas rasped. He clenched his teeth against the ache in his jaws.

"Pal," Daxter said to Jak, with an unusual gentleness, "They don't have that here. Probably haven't for a long time, you get me?"

The ottsel hopped down from his shoulder. "You stay with Lumpy Lungs there, I'm getting a doc to rule out everything else."

Damas knew without asking that Daxter was trying to spare Jak. That boy had a debilitating fear of exam chairs that went beyond the usual childhood disdain for doctor appointments. And by now, Damas wasn't the only Spargan who had connected the dots between his fear of doctors and his refusal to let anyone see all of his scars.

Jak took hold of his arm and pushed him down to sit on the stairs. Any other day the manhandling would've gotten someone at least a good punch in the gut. But right now Damas could barely catch his breath enough to stand his ground. That was humiliating even without the unidentified fluid still lurking at the back of his throat.

"Okay, okay-" Jak was talking more to himself than to Damas. "Eco's pretty saturated so you're prooooobably right at the beginning of this. Crap.”

The boy dropped to sit beside him with a groan.

"I- crap! I'm sorry, Damas! I didn't think I was in here often enough to pass Blackwater to you! I swear, I thought I wasn't contagious anymore!"

The pinching in Damas’s lungs returned, and with it, the wrenching coughs.

"You-?" he managed to gasp.

Jak winced. He looked so strangely young when he felt guilty about something.

"Two- two weeks ago? Remember I didn't take any jobs for a couple days and you had someone go make sure I was still in the city? I was getting over Blackwater virus. I um."

He tilted his head back and blew out a breath.

"Used to only get it when I was little. But after the- after what Praxis did to me, I'm more susceptible to it than I used to be. Usually I can catch it in the incubation period before it gets bad, but I've been more focused on work than tracking symptoms."

"Why," Damas wheezed, "didn't you just get eco?"

"From the white coats? Rot no!" Jak snapped.

"From. The well." Damas bent double with another cough. "I know. You're. A channeler."

"Oh." Jak looked away and tapped his fingers together nervously. "Good point. But...no, eco doesn't work on Blackwater."

"What?"

"It's the eco that's infected."

"What?!"

* author's note: the use of "rot" as a curse word in Spargus is used as an abbreviation of an older curse. The full phrase, usually lobbed at Marauders during skirmishes, would be "Go rot with your dead gods". That's a bit of a mouthful, so Wastelanders just looking for a handy expletive will shorten it to "rot"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>

Legend said no one had ever made Damas of Spargus do anything against his will. Or at least, no one that lived to tell the tale. The previous ruler of Spargus didn't count. Just the idea of telling the king where he could and couldn't go was sacrilegious!

...unless you were the new kid, apparently.

In fairness, Damas didn't actually remember Jak talking to the doctor and that blasted moncaw. He didn't remember the moncaw reluctantly giving in to Jak’s...strongly-worded...demands to be shown where Damas slept at night. What he did remember was a ringing in his ears that blocked all sound, and a vicious ache in the front of his skull. He remembered someone slinging his arm over their shoulder, and then he was coughing too hard to actually pay any kind of attention to his surroundings whatsoever.

He didn't remember entering his rooms. But he most certainly remembered the moment he realized he was on the couch he used as a bed when he couldn't bear to unlock the room he'd shared with his wife and child. Jak was all but shouting at a monk who had apparently followed them in.

"He doesn't need eco! You give him that, he's gonna feel five times worse!"

"I hardly think a boy is qualified to tell me the ways of eco."

"It's rottin' Blackwater! You wanna help him, or you wanna poison him?!"

The monk planted his feet. "You will not stop me from treating my king, newcomer." He reached for the flask of eco all monks carried.

Daxter made a sound like a buzzer. "Brrrzt! Wrong answer! Jak, get this clown outta here."

Before Jak could oblige, Damas caught him by the wrist.

"No. Fighting," he coughed, and gave what he hoped was a stern look.

Jak softened his voice immediately. "I'm not, I'm not. Trust me, okay? I'm helping you."

"Sire!" cried the monk, clearly worried, "The scout won't listen to reason! The doctor brought me in because he couldn't identify this poison in your system! Let me give you the eco your body needs to heal, please!"

Jak shook his head firmly. "The virus will use it.”

"What virus?!" Brother Rhys exploded, "These are not the symptoms of a disease, they are the symptoms of a toxin!"

"I am aware." Jak turned away from him. "I get this about once every two months. I know what I'm talking about, okay?"

Daxter hopped up onto the couch as if he meant to intercept any eco. "It sounds counterintuitive, but you gotta go with the old ways on this one, doc. Modern medicine makes it worse."

Jak crouched in front of the couch, ignoring the monk.

"I'm gonna get you some water, okay?" he said in a low voice, "This is pretty much going to wreck your system for a couple days. You should probably cancel any meetings you got coming up."

"Probably?" Daxter sounded offended. "Try absolutely! Blackwater puts you out of commission for days, and you're you!"

"I'm not gonna tell you what to do-" Jak started.

"Yeah we are," Daxter interrupted.

"...yeah, I am," Jak sighed in resignation.

"I know it sucks, okay? But you gotta let this flush itself out."

"And how. Exactly. Will it do that?" Damas growled.

Who did this boy think he was, giving him orders like they were kin? He was barely out of puberty and he wanted to take command?

"Charcoal."

"You must be joking," Rhys complained, "We've gone back to the dark ages!"

"Why d'you think it's called Blackwater?" Daxter asked dryly. "You gotta flush the toxins the old fashioned way."

"Don't think," Damas wheezed around another chest cramp, "that there won't be a reckoning for this, boy, because there will."

"Uh-huh. After you drink the charcoal.”

#making Damas miserable for fun and profit #writing prompts #fic prompts #jak and daxter #dadmas #king damas #Damas does follow through on that reckoning by the way. it's that he knows there are child locks on the door and Jak does not #he calls it preemptive quarantine but everyone knows he's just keeping them in his living room for revenge #meanwhile Jak ended up holding down the fort for two days as the most unwilling regent in Spargus history and Damas did NOT know about this #in fairness Jak didn't either. he just thought he was keeping people from bugging Damas by handling their issues #free day Thursday

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dianawinchester03 · 15 days

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₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ chapter one | leave it to me ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

chapter one is ready! i hope everyone likes this one, it’s a bit more filler to give an explanation however but it’s not too boring xx

word count: 4630 words

warnings: no warnings apply

Later that day, Y/N was immersed in her work that Dean sent her, that she didn’t realize it was already lunch. A knock at the door to her officer startled her, jumping back slightly in her seat, “Come in” She called out after clearing her throat while taking off her glasses.

Sam Wesson pushed open the door to her office, looking as casual as ever in his yellow polo shirt and khaki pants, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and a smirk on his lips.

"Working hard for Smithy, bitch?" Her best friend teased. Sam and Y/N went to highschool together 8 years ago, he transferred in junior year and y/n being the sweet person she was, took the nerd under her wing after some of her football buddies tried bullying Sam.

I know, typical cliche high school kids.

The two became inseparable after some time to the point people thought they were a couple. But it was far from the truth, they never saw each other that way, nor will they ever.

In fact, Sam was actually the one who told her about the vacancy at Sandover Bridge and Iron Inc, and put in her application for her. Sure, he was a mere cubicle worker, but he was a friendly guy who put in a good word for her.

“Shut up, dick” Y/N snorted, her eyes flickering over to the clock. Sam chuckled as he leaned against the doorway, still wearing his signature smirk, his arms still crossed over his broad chest. "Damn, you really got it bad. I almost forgot who I was talking to for a second" He teased, the hint of an amused tone seeping into his words.

Y/N rolled her eyes at his comment, knowing he was referring to her massive crush on Dean. But still she felt a pang of embarrassment at being called out by him. “I hate you." She replied, looking back down at her computer with feigned nonchalance.

She quickly closed it, pushing herself up from her seat. "Anyway, I'm hungry so come and have lunch with your bestie," Sam said, smiling widely.

Y/N rolled her eyes again, knowing that Sam was probably dying to pry some information about her progress with Dean and her "crush" on him. But despite his nosy and annoying nature, she couldn't deny her best friend.

"Alright fine, let's go, weirdo," Y/N grumbled as she reached for her purse. “But you’re paying” She quipped. Sam grinned, a mock offended look on his face as he placed his hand on his chest. "What kind of best friend do you take me for? Of course I'm paying." He said, exaggerating his tone.

“One sec, let me check with Dean to see if he wants anything- and before you poke fun at me, it’s my job” She warned Sam, who already had his mouth open at the mention of Dean.

She turned on her heels, walking out of her office with Sam on her tail, strutting over to Dean’s office door. She stood outside his office door, gently rapping her knuckles against the door, Y/N then pushed the door open.

“Hey Dean, Me and Sam are going to go get lunch. Do you want anything?” Y/N peered her head through his door. Looking like the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, Dean was sitting behind his large mahogany desk, the very portrait of rugged good looks and professionalism.

He looked up from his work, his jade eyes landing on her, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips when he saw her. "Depends, are you buying?" He replied, a playful note in his voice.

She could feel her breath hitch in her throat, her eyes scanning his physique, but she quickly schooled the act. “Definitely” She smirked, she could see Sam from her peripheral view, making mock kissy faces and gagging noises. Luckily, Dean was out of earshot and eyeshot.

Dean chuckled at Y/N's response, shaking his head in amusement at her cheeky attitude. He leaned back in his chair, “I’m kidding doll, just get me my usual and a cup of coffee” Dean chuckled, twisting to his side in his chair to fish out his wallet from his front pocket.

He pulled out a 20 dollar bill, and held it out to her. “You still remember my usual, right?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Sam let out a low whistle from behind Y/N, watching the exchange between the two with fascination.

Y/N flipped Sam off before behind the door which was still blocking half her body, “Quinoa salad, loaded with dressing, extra chicken and bacon with a side of kale chips” She repeated the order that was instilled in her head from day one with a playful eye roll. “And it’s on me, put that away” She insisted before closing the door.

Dean chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her repeat his usual order without even batting an eye. He didn't even get a chance to argue about her paying. Shaking his head in disbelief, he reluctantly tucked the 20 back into his wallet.

Sam and Y/N strolled into the nearby café, both of them taking a seat at a table near the corner of the room, waiting for their orders to be ready. Sam immediately leaned back in his chair, eyeing Y/N with a sly grin on his face.

"Alright, spill. What's happening between you and the boss man?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Sam rolled his eyes at her reply, clearly not buying it. "Yeah, sure. I totally believe that. You've only been swooning over the guy for like, a month, now" He deadpanned, leaning forward on the table, his chin cupped in his palms.

“First of all, fuck you.” She glared at him. “Second of all, enough about me. How’s Jo?” Y/N grinned widely. Jo is Sam’s longtime girlfriend and now fiancé. She was originally one of Y/N’s friends on her old cheer squad. When Sam and Y/N became friends, the freshman Jo developed a crush on Sam who was a junior at the time.

So when she joined the cheer squad, she voiced her crush on Sam to Y/N, who was of course very happy to hook the two up. Sam was initially hesitant since Jo was a freshman but the two grew to love each other. One thing led to another, and now they’re engaged. Jo was currently attending Ohio State, majoring Retail and Fashion Merchandising and she was in her last year.

Sam rolled his eyes at her comment, a smirk on his lips. "You just love to bring her up whenever I bother you, huh?" He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair. "And I'm not the focus of this conversation, I'm tryna get something out of you"

But his expression softened at the mention of his fiancé, a lovesick grin spread on to his face. "She's doing great, thanks. Even though we live together, I miss her like hell, she's busy with school and I'm stuck in that damn cubicle working my ass off."

“Awww, you guys are sickeningly cute” Y/N teased, playfully grimacing. Sam chuckled, shaking his head in mock annoyance. "Har har, very funny. Someone's just salty because they're pining after our boss." He retorted, sticking his tongue out at her. Before Y/N could respond, the cashier called out to her. “Order for L/N”

"Finally!" Sam exclaimed, rubbing his hands together in mock excitement. Y/N got up from her seat, walking over to the counter, the smell of food wafting through her nostrils. The café had a homey feel to it, giving off a cozy vibe and putting her at ease the second she entered the cafe.

When the order was handed to her, she thanked the waiter and made her way back to the table, placing the bag down on the tabletop. “Let’s eat in my office, yeah?” She suggested to Sam after placing his food down infront of him. "Yeah, sure." Sam agreed, picking up his sandwich.

The two of them walked out of the café, heading back to the office building. Y/N took the elevator up to their floor, with Sam behind her. They headed down the hallway towards Y/N’s office, making casual chit chat. “Go wait for me, I’m just gonna drop this off for Dean” She said casually.

Y/N knocked on Dean’s office door, pushing it open when she heard a soft “Come in” from the other side of the door. Pushing the office door open, she walked in, seeing him sitting behind his desk, leaning over some important looking paperwork, his usual stoic expression on his face.

“Order up” Y/N mused, stalking over to his desk to drop the bag with the salad, chips and his cup of coffee down. As she placed the bag down, he looked up from his work. A small smile tugged at his lips when he saw her. “Thanks doll” He said, closing his laptop, his work temporarily pushed to the side.

He reached into the bag, pulling out the salad and the cup of coffee. He took a sip of his coffee, the bitter taste of caffeine hitting his tongue, and he let out a content sigh. "Perfect" He said, his jade eyes flickering back up to her.

“I know I am” She quipped, flashing him a sly wink before turning on her heels. “Call me if you need anything” She said over her shoulder, and with that, she left, making her way to her office to meet up with Sam.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, watching her leave his office, her hips swaying as she walked out the door. He couldn’t help the way his eyes lingered on her as she walked out, but he quickly brought his attention back to his food.

He picked up his fork, twirling it in the salad, and took a bite, a satisfied hum escaping his lips. For a moment, he had forgotten all about work.

Y/N walked back into her office and closed the door behind her. Sam was already sitting on her sofa, a half-eaten sandwich in one hand, phone in the other. He looked up from his phone as she walked in, an amused smirk on his face.

“Shut it” Y/N snapped playfully, pointing a finger at him as she paced over to the couch, settling next to him. Sam immediately put on a mock offended face, clutching his hand to his chest. "I didn't even say anything!” He protested, feigning innocence.

“Blah blah blah” She mused, opening up her food box. “So, have you and Jo set a date yet?” Y/N asked curiously, referring to Sam and Jo’s wedding. Sam took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly while he thought about her question.

He swallowed before answering. “We’re aiming for sometime in the summer. Maybe late June or early July since she’ll be finished with college by then” He replied, an excited expression on his face at the thought of marrying his long-time girlfriend.

“I like that idea, I suppose her old man doesn’t mind paying for the whole shindig” Y/N quipped, rolling her eyes at the thought of Jo’s dad, Bill Harvelle. The man was filthy stinking rich but didn’t have time for his family, preferring to throw money at his problems as if it’ll dissolve anything.

Sam chuckled, knowing that Y/N and Jo's dad didn't see eye to eye. "Yeah, you know he doesn't mind throwing money at anything. Even if it means buying Jo's love." He said, giving a small eye-roll of his own. He knew that Y/N and Bill had clashed a few times in the past, mostly over how he treated his daughter, and it always led to heated discussions.

“Once you and Jo are happy, that’s all that matters” She assured him with a small smile, a twinkle of mischief playing in her eyes. “Just know, as the maid of honor, I am so getting her wasted” She snorted.

Sam let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "Oh, I don't doubt that for one second" He chuckled, knowing that Y/N was going to go all out for the bachelorette party. "Just make sure she doesn't end up stripping on a table or something" He joked, a sparkle gleaming in his eyes.

“Have you met us? I’m gonna be stripping besides her” She quipped. A laugh erupted from Sam's lips, almost spitting out a mouthful of drink. He quickly composed himself, his face contorting in disgust. “Oh, god EW! Get that image out of my head” He groaned, blinking rapidly.

The thought of a naked Y/N made his stomach churn, and not in a good way, it’s like seeing his sister naked. Ew. Y/N cackled maniacally, watching Sam's reaction. "You're such a baby" She teased, sticking her tongue out at him as he pretended to gag.

Y/N’s expression softened at the mention of her brother. "He’s alright. He’s got exams coming up soon, so he's been cooped up in his room studying 24/7." She chuckled softly, her lips curving into a small smile. "He’s a little bundle of energy, though. Always got me on my toes. Got me driving him to football practice every weekend"

"He’s growing up way too fast." She continued, sighing wistfully. "Just the other day he was begging me to carry him around on my shoulders, and now he’s six foot and beating me in races." Sam chuckled, thinking about how much Billy had grown over the years.

He remembered the first time he met the boy, a shy little 7-year-old who hid behind his sister when strangers approached. But now he was a teenager, playing football and causing havoc.

“He's definitely gonna be a heartbreaker" Sam teased, a playful grin on his lips. “Oh, God. EW! Get that image out of my head!” Y/N groaned at the thought. "Aha! Now you know how I felt when you talked about stripping on a table" Sam shot back, a smug grin on his face. Y/N rubbed her temples, shooting her best friend a glare.

As the work day came to a close, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows through the windows of the office building. Y/N was still working diligently at her desk, tidying up some last-minute paperwork.

Sam had already left a while back, heading off to meet Jo for a date. Y/N let out a soft sigh, taking a moment to stretch her stiffened muscles as she sat back in her chair, her eyes wandering across the empty office.

She glanced down at the time, noticing it was well past her usual working hours. She found herself wondering if her boss had gone home. He was known for coming in early and leaving late, but she was hoping he’d finally called it quits for the day.

Meanwhile, in his office, Dean sat behind his messy desk, papers scattered everywhere amongst a few empty coffee cups. He had been working nonstop for hours, his eyes strained from staring at the computer screen for so long.

He let out a tired sigh, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair, his body aching in protest. He knew he should probably call it a day and go home, but he still had so much work left to do. His gaze flickered over to his cell phone, the time flashing on the screen: 7:40pm.

He cursed under his breath, knowing that it was well past his working hours. Again.

So with that, he packed up his things. With his cell phone and his files in hand, Dean stood up from his desk with a groan, feeling the ache in his back and legs from sitting too long. He reached his arms out above his head and stretched, feeling the satisfying pop and crack of his joints.

He took one last glance around his messy office before switching off the lights and closing the door behind him.

The sound of heels clicking towards him made his head snap in the direction, his eyes now focused on Y/N, her head buried in her phone. Texting her brother to make sure he got home safe, Billy informed her that he was safe, having gotten a ride home from one of his friends. She told him to get a pizza for them for dinner since it’s late.

A small smirk tugged at the corners of Dean's mouth as he watched her approach, her eyes transfixed on her phone screen, completely oblivious to his presence. He stayed silent, observing her for a moment, his gaze lingering on her figure and the way her hips swayed as she walked. Eventually, he cleared his throat to catch her attention.

“Shit!” She gasped startled, placing a hand to her chest. Her gaze snapping up to him. “Don’t do that, I almost took out my taser” She huffed. Dean chuckled, his amusement evident at her reaction. "My apologies for nearly getting tased" He said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't mean to scare you, doll"

He took a moment to study her, noting the way her chest was heaving slightly from the shock. His eyes lingered on her figure for a moment before meeting hers again.

“What are you still doing here?” Y/N asked concerned, the two now walking side by side to the elevator. "I could ask you the same thing" He replied casually, glancing over at her as they made their way towards the elevator. He noticed the subtle tiredness in her eyes, probably exhausted from the work she had been doing.

As they reached the elevator, he pressed the button to call it down and leaned back against the wall, watching her closely. "But to answer your question..." He began, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I couldn't find it in me to leave just yet. Too much work to do"

The elevator finally arrived, and the doors slid open with a ding. He gestured for her to enter before following after her. “What a gentleman” She teased, playfully bowing before entering the elevator.

"I try my best" He said, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he followed after her, entering the elevator and pressing the button for the ground floor. He stood next to her, his gaze fixed on her as the elevator began descending.

He leaned back against the wall of the elevator, watching her closely, taking advantage of the chance to admire her without her noticing. “How was your day?” Y/N broke through the silence, making small talk.

"Long, but productive." Dean replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I closed a few deals and managed to get a few things off my to-do list, so can't really complain. You?"

He looked over at her, noticing how the soft glow of the elevator lights illuminated her face and made her look even more beautiful than usual. Y/N took her time admiring the handsome devil, her eyes tracing his jawline, taking in how even after a long day, his suit remained crisp as if it were just ironed.

“About the same for me, I sent those emails for you and booked your flight and hotel for your trip this weekend” She shrugged. "Oh, right. Thanks for that." Dean's mind flickered back to the upcoming business trip he had to make this weekend. He had a few meetings scheduled with potential clients that he was hoping to win over.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not looking forward to it though. I hate traveling for work" He admitted, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “Really? I always thought it would be like a mini vacation” Y/N tilted her head.

"Sometimes, but not always." He explained, shrugging his shoulders. "You spend most of the time either in meetings or cooped up in a hotel room. It can get pretty boring and lonely sometimes. Plus dealing with time zones and jet lag is a pain in the ass."

“When you put it like that, I can’t blame you” She frowned, understanding how difficult it must be. “But I’m sure when you get back home to your partner, you’re happier than ever” She added with a fake smile.

Dean's expression flattened at her mention of his "partner." It was a sensitive subject, one that he preferred to keep private. But he knew that he couldn't hide it forever, especially not from his very observant secretary.

He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "I'm actually, uh, not seeing anyone right now" He said, his voice gruff as he looked away from her.

Y/N's expression softened, her heart sinking slightly at his admission. She had always assumed that a man like him would be happily married by now, what with how successful and attractive he was. But hearing him say that he was single, it made her feel a pang of something she couldn't quite place.

"Oh.. I'm sorry, I just assumed—"

"It's alright" Dean quickly cut her off, waving off her apology. He knew she didn't mean any harm by her assumption, but it still stung a bit to think about the lack of a significant other in his life.

He ran a hand through his hair again, feeling a little uneasy. "I've just been so focused on my career lately, it's been hard for me to make time for dating" He explained, his voice low.

“Oh you don’t have to tell me twice, we’re on the same boat there man” She chuckled, trying to ease the situation as the elevator dinged, indicating they were now at the basement level. The elevator door slid open, revealing the parking lot below ground level.

"Oh yeah?" Dean looked over at her, a hint of surprise on his face. He hadn't expected her to be single as well. He didn't know much about her personal life.

As they stepped out of the elevator and into the basement parking lot, his eyes scanned across the mostly empty lot, looking for his car. "You're not seeing anyone either?" he asked casually, feigning nonchalance.

“When you’re raising a young boy and working full time. You don’t have much time to mingle” Y/N snorted, pacing to her car, which was coincidentally parked next to Dean’s. "I can imagine" He chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he followed her to their parked cars.

He couldn't help but notice the way her hips swayed as she walked, and he had to force himself to look away, reminding himself that she was his employee, and he was her boss. "Being a single parent must be tough," he commented, watching as she unlocked her car.

“Woah, how old do you think I am?!” Y/N tossed her head back laughing. Dean blushed, immediately realizing his mistake. "Oh crap, I didn't mean—"

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little dumb. "I just assumed... sorry, I didn't mean to make any assumptions.."

He felt his heart skip a beat as she laughed, the sound filling the empty parking lot. He was still watching her, his gaze following her every move. "So, if you're not a single parent... then who are you raising?" He asked curiously.

“My brother” Y/N was in a fit of laughter, “He’s 16” She added between laughs. “Oh my god” She giggled, wiping away a strand of tears.

Dean rubbed his forehead, groaning internally at his massive blunder. He felt stupid for assuming that she was a single mother, but at the same time, he was a bit relieved that she wasn't. You couldn’t blame him for assuming by the way she phrased it.

He exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding in, running a hand through his hair again. "God, I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I said that" He said, cursing himself for being so presumptuous.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s my fault for phrasing it that way” Y/N assured him, opening her back door to toss her satchel in. Dean nodded, glad that she was taking it lightly and not holding anything against him. He watched as she tossed her satchel into the back seat, his eyes lingering on her figure for a few seconds longer than he should have.

He needed to stop staring.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Y/N said a bit timidly, biting her lip to stop herself from ogling Dean. Dean snapped out of his trance, realizing that he had been staring for way too long. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, doll" He replied, his voice a bit huskier than usual. He forced himself to turn away from her and walked over towards his car, trying not to look back as he got in. “Nice ride by the way,” He called out after rolling down his window.

Y/N smirked proudly, starting up her engine. “Thanks, Jas is my pride and joy.” She smiled, caressing her staring wheel. “Love the silver by the way” She shot back, gesturing to his Toyota before peeling out of her parking spot. Honking her horn twice, and with that, she was off.

Dean chuckled, watching her drive off with a smirk on his face. He couldn’t help but admire her spirit, and the way she handled herself. He shook his head, a few strands of hair falling over his forehead. “Dammit!” He muttered under his breath, starting up his own engine. He needed to get her out of his head already.

Y/N gripped the steering wheel tightly, her heart still racing from her interaction with her boss. She couldn't believe he had assumed she was a single mom, and she had found it funny, but at the same time, it bothered her. Did she really look that old? Or was he just asking because he was curious about her, the same way she was curious about him?

Her mind began to race, thinking about him, his tall and muscular figure, the sharp cut of his suit, and the way his emerald eyes had looked at her with both surprise and embarrassment. She exhaled a shaky breath, feeling a little warm at the memory.

“Get it together, chick” Y/N muttered to herself, gathering her thoughts and pushing them away from Dean. Y/N tried to push the thoughts of her boss from her mind, but they crept back in again and with a vengeance.

She found herself wondering what he looked like underneath those expensive suits he wore. Was he as muscular as he appeared to be or was he just a lean build? What did his hair look like without being so neatly gelled? Was it messy and ruffled? She wanted to find out so badly, and that scared her.

“Son of a-!” She was so immersed in her thoughts, she almost hit a dog on the main road. "Jesus!" Y/N swerved out of the way, barely avoiding the innocent canine. She swore under her breath, her heart racing a mile a minute as adrenaline coursed through her body.

She pulled over onto the side of the road, bringing her car to a stop as she caught her breath. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down, as her hands trembled from the near-miss.

She gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to steady her shaking hands, as she took a few more deep breaths. But her thoughts immediately went back to Dean, and how she nearly just hit a dog because she was picturing her boss.

She groaned, leaning her head back against the headrest. This was getting out of hand.

Authors Note: Ouuu, tension tension tension. Hope everyone liked!🥰Quick disclaimer, next chapter is gonna be a time skip.

Xoxo

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean and sam #sam and dean #supernatural fandom #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean girl #dean smith x reader #dean smith #sam wesson

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writingonleaves · 7 months

Text

clementine sandoval x the blue au: stadium series edition!!! i'm still a bit pissed at myself that it completely slipped my mind while i was writing the first part apologies that it's so long lol i wish i was normal

on friday when devs had their night practice and there was the family skate, clem was not there bc realistically, she couldn't get a night off right before a full day off on saturday. but she cannot skate for her life so this was probably a good thing that no camera could capture her eating shit

saturday comes, clem's bundled up, a devils sweatshirt under her puffer jacket, a red scarf she knitted ages ago, fuzzy red socks and a devils beanie she stole from jack's closet. she didn't want to have to choose between jerseys.

ellen and jim flew in, and so did maeve since MA public schools just started their february break. all the hughes family around the area showed up too.

i was gonna say clem would meet nina and reno now but i have that already planned out in the next part so we're gonna say they dont cross paths and chalk it up to everyone being busy with their own families

i can imagine clem wanted to take part in all the tailgates and excitement tbh so to me she's like jason kelce at the bills tailgates. i heard somewhere that at the nhl awards, ellen was knocking shots back like a champ the night before, so in my world, ellen is def with her walking around these tailgates. at least for an hour or so

and obviously, a lot of devils fans recognize ellen and welcome her into their celebrations and then she introduces clem to everyone as "my daughter! the fourth hughes child!" or something like that

does she shotgun a beer with a fan as people cheer her on? yeah. does she knock a few shots back with ellen and that gets the crowd pumping? hell yeah. were videos of both instances circling around social media with captions like “quinn, jack and luke who? met the superior hughes sibling today”? you bet. devils twitter / hockey twitter in general ate it up

one of clem's fave ever pics of her and ellen is taken by a kind fan at one of these tailgates

the vibes are just so incredibly high even before they head to their seats. it just keeps going at the start of the game right until to end

i like the idea of clem not knowing at all what the boys' entrance outfits were and finding out along with everyone else. she is with the fam waiting to get to their seats and just bursts out laughing when she goes on twitter (her eyes widen when she sees nico's fit but no one needs to know that!)

wont bore anyone with play by play of the game. yes clem screamed her head off when nico scored. she chugged a beer after toffoli scored (its cold!!! gotta keep warm), she almost falls when smith scores. she misses nate's 1st but still screams bc everyone around her is screaming. she jumps out of her seat so quickly for nico's 2nd goal. clem is full out vibing for nate's 2nd and is just dancing around

she has this moment where she realizes that …. if this is what the start of her next chapter of life is going to look like, it ain’t so bad. first time since she’s moved back east where she’s like …. okay yeah this could be home <3

#the blue au

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justinspoliticalcorner · 5 months

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Victoria Bekiempis and Lauren Aratani at The Guardian:

Donald Trump’s hush-money trial gained momentum on Friday afternoon with the conclusion of jury selection. Five alternate jurors were chosen on Friday, following Thursday’s proceedings when the 12 jurors and one alternate juror were picked. With the panel selected, Trump’s trial can enter its next stage, with opening arguments expected on Monday. The court held a so-called Sandoval hearing – where Trump will be informed of the scope of questions prosecutors can ask him if he takes the stand as a witness – on Friday afternoon.

Just as the full panel was established, a man set himself on fire in the park outside the courthouse, causing a frenzy before court broke for lunch. The man, whose motives are still unclear, was in critical condition. In an afternoon session it was discussed what sort of evidence might be brought into the case if Trump were to testify. Prosecutors previously submitted documents indicating that they wanted the ability to ask Trump about a variety of past legal travails should he testify, to challenge his credibility as a witness.

These include sexual assault accuser E Jean Carroll’s successful defamation cases against him. As the hearing progressed, Trump attorney Emil Bove said prosecutors’ asking Trump about the verdict in Carroll’s cases on cross-examination would be “unacceptable”. Bove, who reiterated Trump’s denial of Carroll’s sexual assault claim and said it “very much did not happen,” said the claimed incident was “too far back in time” to be used in any potential challenge to Trump’s credibility. More, Bove argued, “to bring up Ms Carroll’s allegations at this trial sort of pushes the salaciousness on to another level. This is a case about documents.” Prosecutors insisted they should be able to ask him about the defamation verdicts against him, as they showed that a jury determined his statements about Carroll were untrue.

“That’s critical, critical evidence that the jury ought to be able to consider … if he testifies,” the prosecution also said. Earlier in the morning, questioning of potential alternate jurors got under way after Trump arrived and looked as if recent events had taken a toll on him, with his trademark brassy hair more messy than normal, but outside the courtroom the ex-president did what he typically does when facing scrutiny: he complained. He doubled down on his claims that the trial was rigged and derided the intelligence of Alvin Bragg, the Manhattan district attorney, saying he was “not smart enough to represent himself … like Letitia James”, according to a pool report. Trump insisted he should be on the campaign trail in Pennsylvania, Georgia and North Carolina rather than inside court, and called for Juan Merchan, the judge, to free him from the gag order which bars him from commenting on witnesses, jurors, court staff and parties’ family members in this case,

All 18 jurors (12 main and 6 alternates) have been selected in the criminal business record falsification trial of Donald Trump in Manhattan. Opening arguments are expected to begin early next week.

#Donald Trump Trial #People of New York v. Trump #Donald Trump #Juan Manuel Merchan #Alvin Bragg #Emil Bove

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cositapreciosa · 1 year

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hiii i love ur work and i was wondering if you can make a fluff one shot/imagine with eduardo sandoval? fem reader if that’s fine! pls and ty 😭😭😭 hes very underrated

Mañana por la mañana

Eduardo Sandoval x gn!reader, (no warnings, a bit of implied smut, being disgustingly in love?) 2401 words

a/n : throws some more Eduardo at you guys like you are unfed pigeons / this one was a rollercoaster, sometimes you have to : fuck it, and ball. He's so hot in this gif omg also thanks babe hope you like it!!

As always it's the fictional, not the real deal, enjoy xx

The sunlight is soft in the kitchen this morning, a gentle glow that makes you thankful to have gotten up at the same time as Eduardo. He has a habit of always leaving before you, barely crossing his path for 15 minutes every morning before he rushes to the car, a brief kiss landing on the corner of your lips as the door closes. Today should have been like every other day, but with so many running stories and new deadlines, you felt that going to work early might give you a fighting chance with the elections coming up.

The tiles are cold under your feet, you knew you should have fought harder for hardwood floor, but Eduardo was adamant that tiles belonged in a kitchen. You fill up the coffee machine with water, turning around to search for the coffee itself when you see Eduardo entering the room. His hair is still damp from the shower, wearing his shirt without his blazer, tie loose around his neck.

'' I hope I didn’t wake you up. ''

'' Not at all. ‘’ you answer back, head still in a cupboard, '' People are getting crazy at work, they want everything covered on all fronts. It’s a nightmare really. ''

He hmms, opening the refrigerator. After a second, he looks back at you again, puzzled.

'' What are you doing? ''

You sigh, leaning back against the countertop.

'' I don’t remember where we said we would put the coffee. You always make it, I wanted to do it this time. ''

He laughs, putting the two eggs he took from the refrigerator on the kitchen island, making sure they don’t roll off with his hand. You raise your leg, pushing his shin slightly with your foot.

'' Don’t laugh at me! You couldn’t remember the gate password for days! ''

Building a house together was the next easy step in your relationship. For financial and security reasons, this suburb not too far from town, in a safe neighbourhood, had proved to be exactly what you both wanted. His hand reaches for your side as he fights back, one finger poking at your rib.

'' Well, my old place wasn’t fancy enough for a gate, let alone a password, okay? ''

It was indeed probably one of the smallest two-bedroom apartment you had ever seen. His hand then grips your t-shirt, tugging you to him as you fake resisting his embrace.

'' Say ‘pretty please, my husband, you are the best and I adore you’, and I’ll make you a cup. ''

Your nose wrinkles,

'' I will not. That is blackmail, Mr. Bodyguard, and I can’t lie, I’m not a liar. ''

He groans, letting you go as he moves closer, putting his hand on the counter beside you, the other one stretching behind your head to open a cabinet.

'' I don’t bodyguard. '' He shakes the coffee bag in front of your eyes, '' It’s Head of Security, by the way. ''

You can’t stop the smile that pulls at your lips, the pride that bubbles in your chest. He deserves it, the title, the promotion, after so much hard work he puts in every day.

'' I know, amor. I’m proud of you. ''

You feel his tie on your chin as he leans to kiss your forehead. He takes a few steps back toward the coffee machine, pointing a finger in your direction.

'' Watch out because when I become President, I’ll make it illegal for pretty journalists like you to be that annoying early in the morning. ''

You roll your eyes, putting your arms over your head as you stretch. He is smiling again, proud of his joke, and you notice how he bites his cheek when his eyes land on the sliver of skin under your t-shirt,

'' Pretty please, husband, just make the damn coffee, will you? ''

You take a seat behind the kitchen island, facing him as he lets out a chuckle. You know that if you try to cook with him, try to take the pan from his hand, Eduardo would only tell you to sit back down. After a few minutes, he pushes you a warm cup of coffee, exactly how you like it, and a plate of huevos pericos across the counter. You lean toward him, and Eduardo joins you in the middle, letting you press a small kiss on his cheek.

You two eat in silence, enjoying the company, soaking in the smell of this new home. Even if tells you about all the meetings he has today, you can see it, how he barely touches his plate and plays around with his fork. You know he feels bad about not being home for dinner most nights, that he wishes he’d be able to help you unload all those boxes still taped up from the move. He does make up for it in many ways, even if you know he’s not noticing it. You knew that taking this promotion would ask more of him, of you, and of your relationship, but you also knew that his work was important to him, as he knew your career was to you. Maybe that was why being together had worked for so long now.

'' You’re not working too much if it’s what you’re thinking. ''

He looks up from his plate mid-bite, meeting your eyes. He swallows hard, pushing it down with a sip of coffee.

'' I know, I just- '' His hand reaches for yours across the counter, '' You do a lot for us, and I wish I could do the same sometimes. ''

His thumb rubs your wrists, slow, soft motions,

'' You just need to learn how this new position works, when you’ll start to feel comfortable in your new shoes everything will fall into place. ''

You keep eating in silence for a while. You can feel you touched something sensible from how he leans back to his side, keeping his eyes on his plate. It hasn’t been easy, in the beginning, when you started to go out together. It wasn’t anything serious at first, and him sneaking into your bed late at night or not calling for days did not seem like such a big deal. Until it was, until you realized how you always came second, until you realized you were not going to settle for that, especially if he expected you to be loyal to him to a certain degree.

You know he remembers the last time he had been promoted, how that time he wasn’t able to separate life and work. You had sat him down one night, one of the first evenings he had been joining you for dinner that week. I will leave you, you had said, I can’t keep doing this, I can’t allow it, Eduardo. That night, it didn’t end well, somewhere between screaming and crying, losing your cool, his endless explanations. After hours of silent tears and shaky breaths, you eventually fell asleep on the couch, the thought of feeling his warmth next to your pillow making your heart ache.

You pick up your plate, making your way around the kitchen island. Your hand gently met his forearm, cold fingers against his burning skin.

'' Talk to me, yeah? I can see you’re thinking too hard. ''

It is meant as a joke, something to lighten up the mood. Eduardo shakes his head, his opposite hand moving to rest on top of yours, his palm caressing your knuckles.

'' It’s nothing. It’s stupid really. ''

He turns to you, picking the plates from your hands, pushing off your attempt at getting something out of him. He sends a small smile your way as he walks to the sink, it’s fine, it means, don’t mind me, as he puts the dishes at the bottom, turning on the tap to give them a rinse. Discussion over.

The sound of the water hitting the cutlery fills the silence. You move behind him to set your now empty coffee cup next to the soap dispenser. A gentle way to ask him to clean this too and he does. Quick to keep busy, making sure the mug is placed with the pile of dirty plates, already working on washing them. With a small sigh, you lean on his back, hands moving around his ribs and up his chest, resting on his sternum. You can smell his cologne, the one he uses on days he has important meetings, the one he keeps buying because he knows you like it so much. Your head falls between his shoulder, pressing a small kiss to the cotton covering his skin.

'' You know I won’t let you go until you talk to me, hm? ''

He laughs, you can feel his chest contract with the sound, and that makes you happy, that he is not mad at you, even if you already know he wouldn’t. Eduardo keeps scrubbing at the dishes and you know he’s thinking again, trying to figure out what is the best way to explain how he feels. You know he’s got it when after a while he stops the water, bracing his hands on the edge of the sink, whatever is left dirty will have to be done this evening. He gently leans back in your embrace, your nose touching his hair. His curls are still damp, they smell like your conditioner.

'' I don’t want you to leave me. ''

It’s a murmur, so softly spoken. A secret shared between you and him, vulnerable and out in the open. Your fingers are running along the seams of his dress shirt, up and down, trying to be comforting.

'' Why would you think that? ''

It’s a genuine question to his answer, one you didn’t expect this morning. You have always been able to fix things between you. Taking the time to communicate, share your secrets, talk about your feelings, making it work.

'' I’m not sure, I just… '' He sighs '' Last time really scared me, that’s all. I want you to be happy here, with me. ''

Last time. It clicks then, that one night when you almost called it quit. I will leave you. I can’t keep doing this, I can’t allow it, Eduardo. You didn’t think your words would stay with him that way. Didn’t think much of it the morning after too, after he had gently shaken you awake from the couch, hot coffee in hand, just how you like it. He had slipped the warm ceramic in your hands and you had tugged him with you on the couch, watching the Saturday morning news in comfortable silence, feets touching under the blanket.

'' Amor… '' You sigh against his back, wrapping your arms more tightly around him. You hate when he feels like this, unworthy, useless. '' I am happy here, especially with you. ''

He nods, a hand raises from the counter, intertwining your fingers with his. You can feel the wrinkles on his skin from the soap.

'' You would tell me, yeah? If it didn’t feel right for you anymore. ''

You hmm, swaying from side to side slowly, bringing him with you in the movement. You are not saying much after that. You can hear the cars passing in front of the house, children babbling on their way to school. You would tell him if any of this wasn’t working for you anymore, like you had done in the past, as you would again if needed.

'' Te amo. ''

It slips out of your lips, muffled in his shirt. You can feel him exhale in your arms, feel the weight come off his shoulders.

'' I love you so much, Eduardo. I hope you know that. ''

'' I do. '' He whispers back, '' Y yo a ti, cariño. ''

You are smiling against him, giddy from the words even after all those years. You know it is getting late, that he should be on his way already, but you don’t want him to leave, soaking in his warmth, how good he smells.

'' I have to go, I can’t be late today. ''

'' We wouldn’t want that. ''

He laughs, bubbling from his chest, you know he can hear the sarcasm dripping from your tongue. He turns around in your embrace. One hand moving behind your head, playing with a strand of hair, following down your neck.

'' I can tell you don’t care. I’m not freelance, they don’t forgive tardiness easily. ''

'' Well, I’m sorry if I want to keep you all to myself. ''

His hands slide under your shirt, pressing at the small of your back, bringing you to him. His fingers are hot on your skin, denting the space above your hips. You are in between his legs now, hands on his chest, heart pumping. The light is soft through the window, colouring his eyes in honey, and suddenly it feels like you can’t breathe properly. His eyes fixed on yours, lips parted, he can’t look away.

'' You’re the one starting this. '' However he wants to call it, this, that. The way his fingers caress your ribs, thumbs following your waistline to the top of your pants. It is meant as a warning to him, one weak of any real consequences, a decision that should be logical given the time. '' You can’t blame me. ''

If he keeps going further you mean. You want him to, you know he shouldn’t, he can’t.

'' Maybe I can meet you for lunch then? ''

His palms slide to your hips, tugging on the soft material of your pyjamas, you are so close you can feel him against you.

'' We could make that work. How long’s your break? ''

'' 45 minutes. '' He breathes in, pupils blown. '' I’m sure I can stretch it to an hour. ''

You smile as he leans in, his lips brushing on yours.

'' We can make that work. ''

As long as you’re on the same page, you think, you know, you can make this work. The tiles are cold under your feet, the sun burning on your shoulder, his breath warm on your cheek. And then, his lips finally touch yours, a goodbye, a promise for later as you kiss him back, hungry for more. Te amo.

#eduardo sandoval x reader #eduardo x reader #eduardo sandoval #narcos imagines

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yxxxxxx1 · 6 months

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Thread about Joanna of Castile: Part 8: “The Tragic Departure: Philip's Refusal and Juana's Suffering

Philips' refusal to stay longer shocked both monarchs and procurators. Castilian procurators warned that if he crossed France during wartime, he would be considered a traitor, exposing himself to the mercy of his enemies and endangering Juana's life. This would not only undermine the monarchs, but also the interests and honour of all Spain, and would cause great agitation. The Aragonese procurators appealed to Philip in the same way. Although the monarchs persuaded Juana to remain for the birth of their fourth child, Philip left Madrid on 19 December.

Martire was dismissive of Juana, who showed no sign of 'royalty or courage'. Burton, perhaps familiar with Martire’s letters, later summarised the situation in his opus on melancholy.

Juana was:

“So impatient and melancholy upon [Philip’s] departure, that she would scarce eat her meat, or converse with any man; and though she were with child, the season of the year terrible, the wind against her, in all haste would to sea after him.”

Historians have also attributed this distressing episode to Juana's personal obsession with Philip, underestimating the broader political aspect. As with all female royals, Juana was born into a highly political setting. Even though she wasn't power-hungry, honour and reputation mattered to her. She was not only affected by her separation from her husband, but also by his conduct towards her. As a result, Juana, who wore violet for her reunion with Isabel in May, bid Philip farewells in December.

Almost certainly, this signalled more than personal grief. She was heir to the many realms of Castile and Aragon and beyond personal grief and dishonour, her mourning signalled a political calamity.

The idea that Philip had run from his commitments as soon as the oath-taking was over made people doubt the succession, which made it very unlikely that the Spanish kingdoms could be ruled by princes who were also archdukes of Austria and dukes of Burgundy. This left Juana with a difficult decision, although not necessarily a resolute one:

To abandon her husband and children and remain in Castile to confront an uncertain future; or, in the event of Isabel's demise, to allow Fernando to continue to lead until Charles reached adulthood.

Considering the magnitude of negative remarks regarding Juana's conduct, it is noteworthy to recall that throughout the spring, she remained faithful to her royal duties. She made various acts of religious patronage, including visits that January to the Clarisan monastery of Rejas. Another sign that she supported the Franciscan order comes from a note written by a man named Francisco Segarra, who was hired by the kings to inspect monasteries in Aragon in 1493. Segarra thanks Juana for an act of charity and for her letters, in which she told him not to hesitate to ask her for more help. He hopes to be able to visit her soon.

On 10 April, she brought comfort to her parents with the birth, at Alcalá de Henares, of a second son, Ferdinand, whom she agreed to leave in Castile. Sandoval describes Juana’s pleasure at the birth and the (fattering) sermon about her that Villaescusa preached at the baptism. Zurita refers to the:

“Great respect that the princess always had for the queen.

Sources: Fleming, G. B. (2018). Juana I: Legitimacy and Conflict in Sixteenth-Century Castile (1st ed. 2018 edition). Palgrave Macmillan.

Fox, J. (2012). Sister Queens: The Noble, Tragic Lives of Katherine of Aragon and Juana, Queen of Castile. Ballantine Books.

Gómez, M. A., Juan-Navarro, S., & Zatlin, P. (2008). Juana of Castile: History and Myth of the Mad Queen. Associated University Presse.

#joanna of castile #juana i of castile #philip the handsome #juana la loca #isabel #irene escolar #Raúl Mérida #Philippe le Beau #Felipe I de Castilla #Felipe el Hermoso #Philipp I. von Kastilien #Filips I van Castilië #Johanna van Castilië #Jeanne la Folle #european history #johanna van castilie #catherine of aragon

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oneforthemunny · 1 year

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Hi evie, i hope you feel better!

What are eddie's guilty pleasure shows? I'd imagine modern!eddie unironically loving Euphoria bc Maddie reminds him of mean girl

older!dilf!eddie will ask 1000 questions about the reality show she's watching but refuses to sit down and actual watch it

mafia!eddie loves that new lotr show but wont admit it to anyone (i feel like he'd also old westerns and kitten makes fun of him for liking something so old timey)

cowboy!eddie loves police procedures, all the NCIS spinoffs

cop!eddie loves breaking bad and ozark

rockstar!eddie loves my little pony bc of the girls but hate the fandom lol

janitor!eddie lowkey gives big bob belcher energy so he'd love bob's burgers

omg this is so fun.

ok yes to modern!eddie loving euphoria. mean girl reminds him of maddy and she teases him for being fezco. “max is literally ash come on!”

older!dilf!eddie SWEARS he’s not watching the reality show. “they just scream at each other!” but he’s doing the posted up dad pose. arms crossed, legs out in a stance in front of the tv. will turn to ask “who’s this guy again” “what happened in vail?” and brielle gets so infuriated lol. also very niche but older!eddie?? the BIGGEST tom sandoval hater in the world. had kept up with every bit of it.

mafia!eddie I feel like he would want comforting shows more so than romantic. his job is so insanely gruesome and scary and demanding, he wants something easy. brainless and comforting, where nothing bad happens. so I think he’d like full house a lot. it’s just easy to watch and relax to. not too heavy or brutal or even dramatic.

cowboy!eddie yes, but also like those series they make about true crime cases?? like the act or candy or the dahmer one that just came out. he is a true crime junkie and eats them up.

cop!eddie is so fucking real for that. he loves shows about criminals lol. and reno 911 because that’s how he feels it is at work lol.

rockstar!eddie I’m gonna disagree. he hates kids shows especially like my little pony and straw berry shortcake and “those goddamed barbie movies” which is eddie for fairytopia (that zarah loved). but he does love pirates of the carribean. he was with vega a lot since the other girls were older and he’s like retired, so they chilled (as chill as vega and eddie can be) a lot and he tried to watch the max and ruby and dora but he couldn’t do it, so he was like hmm what’s a disney movie? pirates of the caribbean. most children would have been terrified… not vega. it was loud and exciting and they fought in it, and she fucking ate it up. now eddie watches them all, religiously. at every movie.

janitor!eddie being bobs burgers makes me wanna sob bc that is my favorite show on the entire planet. literally my all time favorite show, my comfort show, everything. I think he’d like adult cartoons like that, and also freaks and geeks. it only had one season but he loves it. he thinks it’s so real lol.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #rockstar!eddie munson #cowboy!eddie munson #mafia!eddie munson #modern!eddie munson #older!dilf!eddie munson #janitor!eddie munson

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criticalglitch · 1 month

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"You. Again." The cleanrot knight drew its blades, mist spilling out of the slits in its visor. It hunched over, diminishing its stature, tendrils of rot clinging to its armor.

There it was, impeding Sandoval's path, once again. Sustained by the grace of the erdtree, he'd found himself at the top of the plaza upon his own defeat.

Sandoval drew his twinblade, a vicious thing forged in his homeland, curved on one blade and serrated on the other.

"Yes, me, again. And again, and again, until you let me pass." He dug his heel into the stone, the metal screeching slightly with the friction. His knuckles tightened on the haft, his eyes narrowing, shining with flecks of gold.

The knight swung forward with a blinding momentum, and Sandoval raised his right arm, deflecting the blow against the plating of his limb. The force of it drove him backwards, and he stumbled to regain his footing. Sandoval's smooth blade swung in an arc, glancing off of the knight's platemail, and he danced backwards, driving a piercing strike towards its legs.

He'd left himself open. The two straight swords came down, severing his spinal cord, and he collapsed motionless on the stone, his foetid blood pooling around his body.

His essence collapsed into golden dust, and the knight winced slightly as it righted its positioning, using its scabbard to support its weight. It resumed its post before the small chapel in Elphael, fighting the hot decay blossoming throughout its flesh. Sandoval awoke beneath the moon, the leaves of the great Haligtree scattering across the ground. He drew himself back up to his feet, his expression frustrated. "It... talked," he murmured, frowning at his hands. Clad all in white, with a massive, pallid tail, and it *spoke* to him. Surely the shattering had driven most everyone witless, and yet, this singular Cleanrot knight had enough sense to not only speak, but to recognize him from their previous clash.

His brow furrowed as he climbed the ladder down. It couldn't be right - to slay one still in possession of their faculties. And yet, Sir Gideon had charged him with claiming a great rune supposedly found here. The fact of the matter was that he simply had to cross that damned bridge. He set his feet on the stone once more, and took a breath.

The solitary knight unfurled like a centipede, its white pallor eerie now under the moonlight. Once again, it drew silver, the lillies embossed on its blades glinting beneath the stars.

"Wait!" Sandoval said, visibly dropping his twinblade to the ground. "Wait, wait, wait. I don't want to fight you."

"Tresspasser," the knight hissed, advancing.

"H-hold on!" Sandoval raised his palms, his eyes widening a little. But it was too little, too late. Again, silver flashed, blood spilled, and Sandoval awoke at the flickering grace in the canopy.

The knight doubled over below, the rot within festering and boiling. It clung desperately to its charge, to its purpose, but it was losing that, too. The exertion seemed to accelerate its suppressed frenzy, and it huddled below the archway, one hand gripping the arm, as if to reign itself into submission. It prayed to Lord Miquella the Kind, almost feverishly, that the Tarnished wouldn't return. It did not know how much longer it had.

Sandoval gave a passing glance to the ladder, biting his lip. He certainly wasn't a match for it, but that notwithstanding, he didn't know how he felt about his mission. Intruding on an abandoned, dying tree, and slaughtering all there for the sake of what? A potential demi-god, lying in wait?

He sat at the grace, shaking his head. No. Sir Gideon would have to do without. He had enough shards to repair the ring, after all. More violence would be senseless.

#sandoval posting #im in the callar arum fandom

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aptericia · 11 months

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OC intros! 😊

POV you can choose to side with a) corrupt politicians who hate war so much that they’re willing to kill a lot of innocent people to avoid it, b) warmongering rebels who hate corruption so much that they’re willing to kill a lot of innocent people to take it down, or c) bitches who don’t care about anything beyond saving their own skin. And you have no idea who’s who :)

Here are the 5 prominent characters for the graphic novel I’m (very slowly) working on! I posted a bit of info at the beginning of last month for OCtober art challenges, but now I’m finally giving them a proper introduction! Keep reading for info about each of them~

TRACE he/him age: 31 Tech assistant at Sandoval, a police station and prison at the edge of a vast, unexplored marsh. Unfulfilled with his lot in life, he is eager to exceed expectations and fix problems where he finds them. His probing leads him into an investigation that others are desperate to keep him from completing.

SIGNE she/her age: 32 An undocumented immigrant who was arrested at the edge of the Marsh and is being held at Sandoval. Has a violent, unstable demeanor, yet appears to be free of the curse that crushes the will of others those who cross through the Marsh. Somehow, she knows secrets about Sandoval that even Trace doesn’t.

OFFICER CORTEZ she/her age: 50 Chief Officer in charge of the police station side of Sandoval. Determined to protect it from the mysterious attackers that have been targeting the country’s law enforcement institutions.

NOÉ he/him age: 29 A security officer at Sandoval’s prison, and Trace’s friend. Although more carefree than the latter would prefer, he’s less afraid to speak his mind.

OFFICER EMIRA they/them age: 38 Moved to Sandoval to take charge of its guard force after the mysterious disappearance of the previous captain. Friendly with Trace and the other staff.

#my ocs #my art #still working on their designs I’m not totally happy with them ;-;#I like the gold/purple color scheme for the uniforms because symbolism but it’s kinda ugly…#it’s really helpful to see them all next to each other though #I ended up adding a tattoo to noe’s design just now bc I though he looked to similar to the others

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thefixer · 11 months

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CHARACTER INFO SHEET , TW : BRIEF MENTION OF SELF HA*RMING .

name : mia isabella di salvo . name meaning : in italian ' mia ' means ' mine ' . it's a simple name but one i chose for her because her full name could mean : " my beautiful savior . " alias / es : so far i only have to : jacqueline deveraux and vanessa marchetti . but i do feel that there are plenty more aliases that she uses . some might be a throw away , other's may have been retired due to the possible chance of having a cover blown . totally depends ! ethnicity : white / caucasian . one picture / icon that you like the best of your character : fuck you , i'm breaking the rules lmao ( because i can't possibly just put ONE . ) but also these are my current faves .

tagged by : @4ger , thank you!! tagging : any1 ! steal it and tag me cause i wanna see :))

three headcanons you've never told anyone :

mia struggled with self - ha*rming , starting at the age of five till her very late teens . mostly developing because of being just a kid and not understanding her emotions or how to handle her grief and anger . then of course she was a teen and that comes with all sorts of negative feels . not to mention she got bullied a lot because of her full lips and how chapped they sometimes get . it started off by pulling out her hair and pinching herself - growing more and more out of control as she got older . she of course has stopped in a sense ( though she's self - ha*rmed in different ways ) there are scars on her body , mostly in area's that she was able to hide them from plain view . so like her upper arms and shoulders , her thighs and stomach .

she enjoys watching trash reality television ... mostly the thirty day fiance type shit . don't ask me why , i honestly don't have a fucking clue why she likes them . actually on this subject i definitely will say she's a cinemaphile ( and probably has a letterbox account under false name . ) if you wanna take her out on a date , you must take her out to a movie .

on occasion , you might hear her freestyle rap or just break out in a rap song . mostly 90s rap music , definitely heard her sing salt n pepa's shoop ... or even biggie's hypnotize . i know it's surprising , an alt ex - grunge princess like mia enjoy's rap ? yes . at least the oldie's she does .

three things your character likes doing in their free time :

mia expresses through creativity , so a lot of the times when she's bored or when she's got time off she's doing something artistic . mostly sketching or playing on a guitar ( and singing too . ) she has many journals of hers , mostly the pages are filled with her experiences from day to day . her feelings too and whatever she's going through at the current moment . sometimes she sketches things like buildings or normal people while she's people watching . she also tends to do some sort of mixed media too , so these journals get really thick by the time she's finished . when she sings , she sings softly . it's almost ethereal like ? i'd say her singing is a cross between chelsea wolfe and hope sandoval from mazzy star . which pairs well with her acoustic guitar . other artistic avenues she takes are painting and writing poetry ( which is in her journals most of the time and no one gets to read them unless you are special . )

playing up on the writing part : mia reads a lot ... like a lot , a lot . she mostly reads non - fiction / fiction / horror / suspense + mystery / crime / espionage / romance / erotica ( lmao ! ) but it is common knowledge that mia is a hopeless romantic who loves a good romance novel , the cheesier the better too .

rock climbing , either outdoors or indoors is another favorite thing mia does on her downtime . i think it's because it requires a lot of determination and focus , also some calculation when it comes to bouldering walls inside . occupying the mind by unlocking this part of her brain is very relaxing to her . outside of jogging i think this is probably her favorite way to keep in shape .

** just adding this for fun , but we know a two more things mia likes to do , it's have great sex and eat great food . you can say that she engages in risky behavior .**

people your character likes / loves :

see ... now this is where things get pretty tricky because ... well mia has lost her loved ones ( whether she wanted to or not , should i say . ) though we can't say we don't love them either , because mia's parents passed away and her other family member's think she's dead . she still loves all of them no matter what , and i'd also have to say that the people that mia knows . people mia considers friends or loved ones , while she doesn't have that many . she loves them to bits , because they literally become the most important people to mia . when it comes to liking certain people , i believe that her liking someone is a rare occurrence . usually has to do with crushing on someone and that's it . oh and she also loves her little crew : samira and petra !

two things you character regrets :

for the most part mia is someone with little regrets in her life , and those that do , they're very important ones . one's that sort of had an impact on her .

not allowing people to love her the way she needs to be loved . this is quite literally the most un-selfish / selfish thing about mia ( and it's so true to who mia is really . ) there is this very intentional self - sacrificing behavior kicks in . she pushes people away , she hurts them , she gets very mean and nasty / cold ... she pushes people away from her mostly because in her mind , it's the best thing she could do for someone she really cares about ? even if it was guaranteed that someone that she'd grown to care for , was someone who would be safe forever . it didn't matter , because mia still believed this is a way of saving them . in so doing , because of this mia will then feel that she is doing it out of survival or to protect herself . despite how intentional it is , mia will always find herself thinking about a couple of people and how she regrets not seeing how things would go . to give people a chance and to also allow people in . trusting in that process instead of being so afraid that she'll get someone killed or hurt .

all of every assignment that she has killed someone or people who were innocent or a child . now this is a concept that will forever live with mia , no matter how hard she tries to forget things ... she will always regret hurting people who didn't deserve it , especially children .

one phobia your character has :

i think it would be the obvious , mia is afraid of airplanes . being around them , seeing them , having to travel while on them . we know this because this is how her parents died / how she became an orphan . while saying all of this , mia is also afraid for fire ... because you can't have one thing or the other , it's a combo deal .

#* out of chara ‚ dash game .#holy moly!#this was fun to write.. i gotta say

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