working poors

Most infuriating aspect of United States politics.
When things don’t work well, Republicans do well; when things work well, Democrats do well. US has a two party system, so this dynamic as it has developed over maany, many decades will not change. Republicans have figured out no matter what they do to disrupt useful governance will benefit their party and hurt their opposition and have learned how to tie failure to govern to the need to privatize. In other words, the public institutions are to blame because they impede capitalism. Both bureaucrat and capitalist benefit while poor and working people are given reason to rely on them. Truthfully, US conservatism has made it impossible to support a concept like shared good because it represents governance and that has been shown to mess things up. It’s not that people trust rich people. They don’t trust politicians. The flaw in this approach is that people are now willing to support apolitical capitalists to govern.

anonymous asked:

35 & R76

Gabriel doesn’t have time for this. He has been waiting to see Jack all week, but amidst Overwatch buisiness and Blackwatch operation planning, they’d both been booked solid. Now, the one time where he was able to be penciled into the Strike Commander’s busy schedule, he gets stuck in a goddamn elevator.

What else did he expect?

It ends up taking an hour of stress, mild claustrophobia, mobile games, and slow-stripping of his layered clothing before a technician gets the elevator working again. The poor man probably expects a reprimanding, judging by the look on his face when Gabe breezes past him whilst exiting the metal death-box, but there’s no time. He can still get to Jack’s room with a bit of time if he hurries, although he’s not sure if Jack’s stuck around waiting for him because the man hadn’t picked up his phone.

After rapping gently on the door to Morrison’s room, Gabe begins to tap his foot anxiously against the ground. He doesn’t even get through an entire one-two beat before the door hisses open and a muscled arm tugs him inside.

Gabriel gains the upper hand quickly as the two grapple for control, pushing slowly towards the bed. They end up on their sides, together, hands intertwined, one facing the other like a cheesy romance film.

A series of small kisses take place before Gabriel speaks. “Take off your shirt.”

The blonde regards him quizically. “Gabi, we don’t have time for-”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off. I went through hell to get here, and damn if I’m not going to appreciate that body, Morrison. Fuck your schedule.”

Please please please

I saw a post about “Please stop hitting on women while they’re at work” and I 100% agree with it, which is why I’m making a separate post to say please don’t hit on people in general when they’re at work.

I work at a bakery and we have this sweet 16 about to turn 17 year old boy who works up front of our store. He used to work at the place next door to us and, while he was there, a girl he was working with developed a bit of a crush on him and asked him out.

He said no, that he has a girlfriend (which she already knew) and thought they could just continue on being friends and coworkers.

Since beginning work at our bakery she stops in every single day and talks to him for the entirety of her 30 minute long break. He has told her multiple times that he’s at work and can’t stand around and talk and when I asked him if he was uncomfortable his response was a very relieved “Oh, God, yes.” 

He’s tried to talk to one of the owners about it and his response was “You can talk to her after work” not realizing this poor boy is being made incredibly uncomfortable on a daily basis in the work place. 

When we told him he could come into the back to find something to do if he needed to he was so incredibly thankful and relieved. This girl spent twenty minutes standing up front waiting for him to come back after he said he had to go do something. Twenty minutes in the front of the store ever after being told he can’t talk to her. He doesn’t know what would happen if he says that he doesn’t want to talk to her and is genuinely nervous every time she walks in.

The only reprieve he gets is from the bakers in the back saying “I get it. Come back here” because the Owners don’t understand that he, a male coworker, can be made uncomfortable by these unwanted advancements being made toward him. 

Please.

This post isn’t made to undersell not hitting on women while they’re at work. I get that and that’s why this separate post exists.

Please.

Don’t hit on people when they’re at work.

Don’t hit on people when they can’t tell you no. 

2

“are you scared? imagine how scared she must’ve been. not that it’s any of my business…

you never had a happy past anyway. you were ridiculed and bullied all your life… and now you’ve escaped that life because for the first time, you did something for yourself.

congrats, mr. murderer.” - oh sangwoo

4

there are two types of dogs

(Zimbits, AU, 3.7K, click “read more” for the whole fic.)


Thanks. You can put it on the counter in the kitchen.”

That had been Jack’s first mistake.

It wasn’t so much the words he said, but rather the fact that he’d said them in French.

However, to Jack’s credit, he had been in the middle of revising a chapter when he’d heard the knock on his door, and the fact that he hadn’t had any caffeine yet due to the broken coffee maker had thrown off his entire morning.

He had been expecting Georgia, the lady he rented the cabin from, to be standing on his door step. However, instead of the landlord, he got a blond guy with wide, brown eyes staring back at him.

There was a sort of gurgle of surprise and a nervous giggle from the other guy for a moment before he blurted, “Hi, I’m your new housekeeper!”

Jack raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything in his confusion. Francine, Georgia’s wife, usually stopped by once every couple of days to tidy up the place, but neither of the two ladies had mentioned anything about a new hire.

Jack must have been lost in thought for a moment too long because the other guy took this as a sign that Jack didn’t speak English. “Uh, you know, cleaning?” He mimed a sweeping action and then pointed at Jack. “Ummm, je… travaille pour Georgia?” he said in a truly horrendous accent.

Jack gave an impatient nod of his head.

Je m’appelle Eric or you can call me Bitty. Actually, je m’appelle Bitty,” he said proudly with his hand out.

There was something about the other guy’s candidness that made Jack pause, or maybe he had been trapped in a cabin for too long, but he reached out and took the handshake.

It’s nice to meet you,” Jack replied in French.

And that had been his second mistake.

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