business gates

Markets may look like democracy, in that we are are involved in their making, but they are fundamentally not democratic. We did not vote for Bill Gates; we didn’t all sit down one day and agree that we should only use his operating system and we should pay for it just however much he thinks is right. We do not go off to our jobs checking telephone lines or making cold calls or driving a forklift every morning because this is what we want to do; we do it because we have to, because it is the only way we can afford food, shelter, and medicine. The logic of business is coercion, monopoly, and the destruction of the weak, not ‘choice’ or ‘service’ or universal affluence.
—  Thomas Frank, One Market Under God

some SOFT CIVILIAN ANGEL CONCEPTS, because i love civilian angels:

1.

a lone virtue, much smaller than many virtues but larger than some, is assigned with just one miracle– any miracle, it doesn’t matter, so long as it is moved by grace. some virtues turn planets with their miracles, but this one knows it should start smaller. much smaller, probably. it touches down in new york city, 1947, between a bustling club and a small pawn shop.

it’s very easy, once both feet are on asphalt, to stop listening to the hum of every voice in heaven and to focus on the the chorus here on earth; new york is as busy as the gates to purgatory and twice as noisy. and the music… there is really something to be said for the boundless nature of human music. the virtue sits in the window of the club and watches the musicians’ hands, losing days learning swing jazz measures.

after a while, the virtue sends a prayer up to God: “can i stay right here, where music and light never stops? there are countless patterns to it, and i want to see how people dance.”

so the virtue completes its task– one miracle, moved by grace: it learns to play the double bass, and joins a jazz band.

2.

there are a few reasons God never sends seraphs to earth, the first of those being that they can never seem to stick the landing. the first seraph’s attempt is long, long before humankind is around to be embarrassed for it.

“smaller. slower. much less fire next time.” God says, grimacing.  “try again in 65 million years or so.”

3.

it is the duty of a throne to know and impart all the wisdom of heaven, intermediaries for the rest of the angels and saints. this is an awful lot of knowledge, even for a mind as endless and intricate as a maze of mirrors– so much that some thrones can’t be bothered with the sharing. some find that human ears don’t take too well to their voices, simply can’t hear them at all, like colors outside a visible spectrum. one throne finds it’s much easier to whisper secrets to the dirt, all her voices at once, and make flowers bloom.

4.  

a few odd million years later, the seraph finally makes its way to earth. it gets the pacing right, squeezes itself into a form just about perfectly human, and causes no extinctions this time. but here’s another reason God never sends seraphs: they just don’t know how to shut up once they get going.

“listen, you’re on earth now. there’s only so many hours in a day for talking, learn to make it count.”

the seraph approximates a frown and says “but talking is my favorite.”

“and you’re very good at it. just maybe try only one voice and language at a time. speaking in multitudes scares the kids.”

“that seems fair.”

“– and enough with the flames.”

“i will try.”

“and remember you don’t need to cover your face when people look at you– i promise they won’t burn up.”

5.

there’s a principality who spends all their time with dogs.

they abandon their post in heaven and come to earth with the express purpose of opening a shelter for abandoned ones, big and small, young and old. “but… couldn’t you have just let a human do that? isn’t that what humans do?” asks one skeptical angel, a malakhim, lowest of the choirs. “aren’t you supposed to be overseeing the rest of us? isn’t that your job?”

“because,” says the principality, comfortable under a pile of sleeping puppies. “half of you are so tiresome. look at these– these are the real angels.”

  • Me: *yawns* boy am I tired. I think I should go to be-
  • Uterus: *In Mushu voice* I LLLLIIIIIIVVVVVVEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
  • Me: Oh, hell no not now...
  • Uterus: RISE AND SHINE SLEEPY HEAD I AM AWAKE AND HERE TO CAUSE YOU UNBEARABLE PAIN AND DISCOMFORT AT 1 AM!!!
  • Me: No.. God please no... can't this wait until morning.. or never. Never would be nice.
  • Uterus: TIME TO OPEN THE GATES TO HELLL!!!! *begins spouting blood violently and stabbing the inside of my body with a hot poker*
  • Me: *single man tear* I. Just. Wanted. To. Sleep. *curls up into a ball and awaits death*
Cabin Fever?

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Fluff

Request:Haiii, I see you are a foetus writer-by the way I love your writing <3 Could you do a jungkook x reader where they meet at the airport and *attempt* to flirt with each other and accidentally end up insulting each other. Then find out they sit next to each other in the plane and start arguing.

(Credit to original owner of gif)

(Thank you so much for the lovely compliment btw it absolutely made my day!!)


You were never the biggest fan in flying but this would be your first time flying in business class, so you would have the added benefit of not having a screaming child near your head. You were sitting in the busy cafe near your gate, sipping at your drink when you saw someone in the corner of your eye, standing by your table. “Do you mind if I sit? Its packed.” The young man asked politely.

You nodded and smiled softly, he had a black mask on and a cap and he seemed to glance around a lot, probably just anxious for his flight, you thought. “Yknow I bet that coffee is like you.” You heard him say quietly.

“What? Bitter and hard to like?” You asked, squinting your eyes.

His seemed to widen “That was definitely not what I was trying to say.” He blurted and under his mask you could tell he was going red.

You glanced at him after staring at your phone “”Mhmmm.” Was all you said.

After a minute or so of silence he took his mask off and his hat and ordered a drink as well. “Well I guess you are pretty cute.” You tried flirting deciding to lighten the mood and rectify his failed attempt at wooing you.

He smirked slightly and leaned somewhat over the table, you couldn’t help but stare at his face slightly “Yeah like your face is just so cute, you remind of my friend Taesook.” You rambled not really registering what tumbled out of your mouth.

Jungkook’s eyes which had been taking in your features snapped up to yours again “Okay I get my flirting was pretty bad but really? I am not cute nor is my face feminine like your friend.” He grumbled.

You frowned as well “You know you shouldn’t frown, wouldn’t want to wrinkle that cute face,” He teased and you frowned deeper and he laughed and pointed out some crinkles on your face. “Yah see You’re already getting them!” He all but yelled.

You groaned and gave up and was thankful when you heard your gate number be called “Oh would you look at the time.” You said and stood up gathering your things and getting out of there as fast as you could.

You had managed to slither your way to the front of the line to have your ticket checked and go onto the plane and you were happy when you saw how much bigger the chairs were even though they were two by two. You put your bag away and sat down and started getting comfortable right away.

It was only a few more minutes before your mood immediately declined, seeing who would be sitting next to you. It was the terrible flirt from the cafe. You groaned as he took his seat next to you. He didn’t seem to recognise you at first but you thought he was being petty and ignoring you on purpose but when he caught you staring and you immediately watched realisation cross his face and he smirked cockily. “Oh it’s my coffee date.” He chimed.

You laughed loudly “that’s what you would call that?” You said with a sneer.

He turned more to face you “of course that’s what I would call it, only you and your insults just made it awkward.” He teased.

You turned fully to face him “my insults? You compared me to my coffee! Then said I was wrinkly!” You cried out and got shot a look by the air hostess.

His face crumpled up and he began a bigger argument with you and you both had been going at the same thing for an hour into the flight before you presume one of his friends leaned over from the next aisle and hit his shoulder “Jungkook quit the lovers spat, people are trying to sleep.” The man grumbled.

You chuckled as his face went red and he shut his mouth immediately but obviously didn’t want to judging by the look on his face. “Lovers spat,” you chuckled quietly. “You wish.” You teased one last time.

(Wow thank you for this amazing request and thank you again for your lovely compliment. I hope you liked it xx)

Oooookay, I found a hidden door with a trap, released prisoners, and found the stairs down.

That changes a lot.

It doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been in those mines for weeks now, sleeping every two hours to get the spells back.

Also, I’m collecting only gemstones, arrows, money, and unindentified shit.

I killed Natasha the mage and slept in her room twice. That’s where I stopped for tonight (it’s 11 PM in Poland).

do not even try and convince me that late 90s college-age ruben was anything other than oversized blazer brand 90s. personally i’d love him to be grunge doc martens 90′s, but he just wasn’t. he was pager and a wallet chain 90s. he was rollerblading everywhere with ugly elbow/knee pads 90s. he was double denim 90s. he was the demon fashion lovechild of the cheap bill gates business casual look and the protagonist of a kevin smith movie.

Who is the most popular artist in every state?

Pandora has released a new graphic (above) revealing the most popular artists in every state based on plays through their digital radio service. Unsurprisingly, Billboard champion Drake has laid claim over the majority of the United States. What may surprise some however, is the fact Taylor Swift only claims two states, which is three less than rapper Kevin Gates and two less than Eminem (who hasn’t released a record in over two years). 

These artists are not the only ones getting a lot of play in these states. Here’s a full rundown of the top 10 biggest artists in all 50 states:

Keep reading

@steggyisimmortal Here’s what I think of Tormund and Brienne:

If I’m not mistaken, in a prior season, he made a comment how he’s not interested in a skinny waif of a woman. So when he sees Brienne come through the gates of Castle Black he’s like, holy shit, who is this warrior goddess of a woman, I have been waiting for her my whole life?!

But Brienne is all business coming through the gates and it’s not until Tormund is looking at her while they’re eating like he would actually like to be eating her instead, that she notices. And her face? I think it’s a combination of shock and not really knowing what to do, because Brienne has probably never had a man look at her like this before because she’s not the typical ideal of what Westerosi people consider “beauty” for a woman.

But Tormund is 100% here for her exactly as she is, and I want the show to let them happen so badly because Brienne deserves to be lavished with affection and have a guy who wants to fight beside her and maybe have her teach him a thing or two about being a soldier.

cuppyren  asked:

as a prompt: what if busy businessman Hux experiences the woes of a booking error on his flight and instead of flying business class as expected, he has to fly coach and is seated next to Kylo, who has already spread out over both seats. (if they get handsy under the provided "blankets" I would not be unhappy about it)

(Oh my god this is such a cute prompt, I love this.)

“That’s absolutely impossible,” Hux tells the gate agent. “My company always flies me business class. Always.”

The gate agent was a battle-axe, a survivor of years and years in the industry, utterly unbreakable and unflappable, even in the face of Hux’s barely-contained fury. She had the coolest, most unconcerned expression on her face as she said, “You’ll have to take that up with your company, sir. It is not the fault of the airline that someone else bought a ticket that you do not like.”

“But business class is boarding–”

“I understand that sir, but you are not in business class for this flight.” She looked at him with something that might have been kindness and might have been contempt. “I assure you that if in that time, anything terrible happens to you, we will be happy to address it.”

Hux had plenty more fight in him, but he could tell that this woman would simply not budge, and if he spent too much more time attempting it, he’d miss this flight and fuck his entire trip’s schedule up. Part of him was tempted, just to see if he could wrangle business class on the next flight, but another part of him knew that it was impossible. He had a presentation to give first thing the next morning and if he missed it, his job was on the line. With a sigh, he pushed back a strand of hair that had come loose in his anger and resigned himself to the line, gritting his teeth as two kids in front of him fought, fists flying, over whose turn it was to play the Nintendo DS. Watch me get seated right next to these brats, he thought.

Well, he wasn’t. Just right ahead of them. Perfect for them to kick my seat. He was looking so longingly at the business-class seats that he was passing that he nearly walked right past seat seat 20A. Also–it was already occupied. The guy in it was tall and broad, with one of those stupid man-buns, dressed in jeans and the kind of faded green jacket that looked vintage but was probably from Target for $20. One leg was sprawled across the aisle seat.

“You’re in my seat,” Hux said. 

“Hm?” The guy took off his headphones. “Oh, you’re 20A?”

“Yes, I’m 20A,” Hux said, hating himself for saying it because he really did not belong in 20A but that was his seat and now suddenly he was defensive of it. “Can you–?”

“Do you mind letting me have the window? The drink cart always whacks my knees when it goes past if I sit in the aisle.”

Hux forced himself to imagine how fast he’d be fired if the people on this plane started live-tweeting the breakdown he could feel coming on and it went viral and found its way to his boss. “That’s fine,” he hissed, certain he looked like a man on the brink of murder, and sat himself in the aisle seat. 

“You’re a peach, you know that?”

A peach? Hux frowned. 

“I’ll share my food, to thank you. I bought a ton of shit at the little kiosk before takeoff.”

Hux wasn’t sure he wanted this guy’s food, but something else was alarming to him. “What about our meals?”

“Our meals? We’re not getting meals. Not unless you’re up there.” He pointed up at business class, where Hux belonged, goddamit. “We get pretzels though, and a cup of soda. And beer or wine if you pay extra. And blankets.”

Hux put his tray down so he could lie down on it in despair, but then the flight attendant came over and told him to put it back in its upright position because they were about to take off. 

When they reached their cruising altitude, Hux finally said, “Okay, you know what? I will take some of those snacks.”

The guy’s headphones were on so he tapped him sharply on the shoulder and then pointed down at his bag. “The snacks. You offered me snacks.”

“You talk like a fuckin’ CEO, you know that?” The guy laughed, his dark eyes sparkling. Hux hated that he was noticing how lovely they were, how liquid and dark-lashed.

“I’m up for vice-president of First Order industries, actually.” It was obnoxious, but he couldn’t help letting him know who he was. 

“No way,” the guy said, rummaging through his backpack. “What are you doing in coach?”

Hux gritted his teeth. “They usually put me in business, but they made a mistake. I couldn’t get the gate agent to fix it.”

This guy had the gall to laugh at him. “Life’s like that, huh? I kind of figured that you weren’t used to sitting back here, with the 99 percent. You didn’t even bring your own snacks.”

“Usually they’re provided.”

“You will get your pretzels, courtesy of the airline. But from me…” Hux could only stare at the bounty inside the backpack, like something out of a Tarantino briefcase, practically glowing. Candy bars, jerky, chips and crackers and cookies. 

“God, you’re a pantry.”

“I’m actually a professor, but thanks.”

“A professor? What do you teach?”

“Art history. I’m heading to the Rijksmuseum.”

“You look like you’re heading to a weed cafe.”

The guy laughed. “I mean. They’re not mutually exclusive now, are they? What about you? I assume probably not weed.”

“We’re hoping to buy out a Dutch company. I usually get sent to do the sales talk.”

They kept eating and talking for a very long time, their music and books and laptops forgotten for thirty minutes, then an hour, then two, as they told each other about their lives. This guy, whose name was Ren, had gotten hired at a university two years before and specialized in Baroque art, and was waiting to find out if a paper he’d written would be published. When the flight attendant came by with the cart (which whacked Hux in the knee instead) offering drinks, Hux bought them both wine.

“You didn’t have to–”

“I didn’t. You stuck me in this awful aisle seat.” But Hux felt himself smile for real. Until he and Ren started talking, he hadn’t smiled once since he’d left for the airport earlier that day. Ren helped himself to a Fig Newton and put on an affected voice.

“Yes, this vintage really brings out the fig flavor. A fine year.”

“I’ll take it back.”

“She’s not going to take it back.”

“No, I’m going to take it back. And drink it myself.”

The wine was the perfect way to settle in for the night, even in these awful uncomfortable coach seats, as they kept talking and joking and teasing one another, finishing off the candy bars. The lights dimmed and Hux felt warm and pleasant under the little blanket provided, not exhausted but just sleepy, and felt even better when he felt Ren’s head slowly drift down to his shoulder. Even better than that when Ren’s hand settled on his thigh.

Everything was quiet.

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing,” Hux whispered in his very quietest voice. “I think you should do it.”

Ren snorted against him. “That’s not business class behavior, now, is it?”

“I’m not in business class,” Hux whispered back, and in responses, he felt Ren’s fingers brush against his belly as he undid the button of his pants. 

“Don’t let anyone hear you,” Ren said. “Won’t that be a scandal?”

“Hush,” Hux said, grinning and grimacing in anticipation, already hard.”

In their hours of chatting, they had not discussed their sex lives whatsoever,  so Hux was not prepared for whatever jewel-thief, silent, effective handjob skill that he was almost positive Ren had not learned in any art history class. Who the fuck was this guy? Once more, Hux found himself straining to not make a scene, hoping that his little sharp inhales sounded like the sound of a sleeper and not of a man on the brink of coming for the first time in, God, he didn’t even know how long. 

“Did you like?” Ren whispered in his ear.

Did he like???

“What hotel are you staying at in Amsterdam?” Hux asked, already trying to figure out how to get to the bathroom to clean up as quick and quiet as possible before falling asleep for real next to this impossible stranger. 

Part 2 here!