#HIGHER TAXES ON THE RICH

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

On Wednesday, Senate Health, Education, Labor and Pensions (HELP) Chair Bernie Sanders (I-Vermont) and Rep. Pramila Jayapal (D-Washington) reintroduced a proposal to make higher education free at public schools for most Americans — and pay for it by taxing Wall Street.

The College for All Act of 2023 would massively change the higher education landscape in the U.S., taking a step toward Sanders’s long-standing goal of making public college free for all. It would make community college and public vocational schools tuition-free for all students, while making any public college and university free for students from single-parent households making less than $125,000 or couples making less than $250,000 — or, the vast majority of families in the U.S.

The bill would increase federal funding to make tuition free for most students at universities that serve non-white groups, such as Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs). It would also double the maximum award to Pell Grant recipients at public or nonprofit private colleges from $7,395 to $14,790.

If passed, the lawmakers say their bill would be the biggest expansion of access to higher education since 1965, when President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Higher Education Act, a bill that would massively increase access to college in the ensuing decades. The proposal would not only increase college access, but also help to tackle the student debt crisis.

“Today, this country tells young people to get the best education they can, and then saddles them for decades with crushing student loan debt. To my mind, that does not make any sense whatsoever,” Sanders said. “In the 21st century, a free public education system that goes from kindergarten through high school is no longer good enough. The time is long overdue to make public colleges and universities tuition-free and debt-free for working families.”

Debt activists expressed support for the bill. “This is the only real solution to the student debt crisis: eliminate tuition and debt by fully funding public colleges and universities,” the Debt Collective wrote on Wednesday. “It’s time for your member of Congress to put up or shut up. Solve the root cause and eliminate tuition and debt.”

These initiatives would be paid for by several new taxes on Wall Street, found in a separate bill reintroduced by Sanders and Rep. Barbara Lee (D-California) on Wednesday. The Tax on Wall Street Speculation would enact a 0.5% tax on stock trades, a 0.1% tax on bonds and a 0.005% tax on trades on derivatives and other types of assets.

The tax would primarily affect the most frequent, and often the wealthiest, traders and would be less than a typical fee for pension management for working class investors, the lawmakers say. It would raise up to $220 billion in the first year of enactment, and over $2.4 trillion over a decade. The proposal has the support of dozens of progressive organizations as well as a large swath of economists.

“Let us never forget: Back in 2008, middle class taxpayers bailed out Wall Street speculators whose greed, recklessness and illegal behavior caused millions of Americans to lose their jobs, homes, life savings, and ability to send their kids to college,” said Sanders. “Now that giant financial institutions are back to making record-breaking profits while millions of Americans struggle to pay rent and feed their families, it is Wall Street’s turn to rebuild the middle class by paying a modest financial transactions tax.”

[planefood]

Saw a video talking about people (in my country) getting job seekers benefits and not getting jobs saying they were stealing from taxpayers and all I could think of was this:

[tomorrowusa]

MAGA Republicans at Project 2025 want to raise taxes on low to moderate income Americans while lowering taxes on the filthy rich (of course!).

They also want a national sales tax.

But there's even more – as revealed in the vid above.

In one of his numerous lies, Trump claimed that he doesn't know who is behind Project 2025. In fact, there are more Trump associates connected to Project 2025 then there are ants at a typical picnic.

Trump claims not to know who is behind Project 2025. A CNN review found at least 140 people who worked for him are involved

The MAGA Republican Party is: Of the Rich, By the Rich, For the Rich. Now you know why Elon Putz is such a big Trump fan.

[nando161mando]

You really work, so you pay higher taxes than a billionaire in America ... (Source: NYT)

[nruto]

im so jealous of ppl who were born into money that it makes me sick.

[jame7t]

If I was a shitty rich streamer like xcq or mirBeast I’d go full Scrooge arc. Like, act like a public dipshit for a whole year then on Christmas Eve have three ghosts interrupt my stream & after that plant one million fuckTrees or something and lobby for higher taxes for the rich. Idk. I think we need more magic in the world. Where are the muppets

[the-bibrarian]

I see a lot of incomprehension online about our pension reform and the anger it generates in France, and what it often boils down to is "why are they so angry, 64 is plenty young to retire?"

I don't agree, but even if I did I would still oppose the reform. Here are some of the reasons why:

We already need 43 full years of work and tax contributions to be able to retire. Which means college-educated people were never going to retire at 64 anyway, let alone 62. This reform is aimed at people who start working early, mostly in low-paying jobs.

There's very little provision made in this law for hard/dangerous/manual labour.

There's no provision made for women who stop working to raise their children (51% of women already retire without a "complete career," which means they only retire on a partial pension, vs. 25% of men).

At 64, 1/3 of the poorest workers will already be dead. In France, between the richest and the poorest men, there's a 13 years gap in life expectancy.

Beyond life expectancy, at that age a lot of people (especially poorer, non-college educated) have too many health-related issues to be able to work. Not only is it cruel to ask them to work longer, if they can't work at all that's two more years to hold on with no pension

Unemployment in France is still fairly high (7%). Young people already have a hard time finding work, and this is going to make things even harder for them

Macron cut taxes on the rich and lost the country around 16 Billions € in tax revenue. Our estimated pension deficit should peak at 12 Billions worst case scenario.

While I'm on wealth redistribution (no, not soviet style, but I think there should be a cap on wealth concentration. Nobody needs to be a billionaire.): some of the massive profits of last year should go to workers and to the state to be redistributed, including to fund pensions. The state subsidized companies and corporations during the pandemic, Macron even said "no matter the cost" and spent 206 Billions € on businesses. Now he's going after the poorest workers in the country for an hypothetical 12 Billions??

Implicit in all of this is the question of systemic racism. French workers from immigrant families are already more likely to have started their careers early, to have low-paying jobs, are less likely to be college-educated, more at risk for disabilities and chronic illnesses, etc., so this is going to disproportionately affect them

This is not even touching on the fact that he didn't let lawmakers vote on it, meaning he knew he wouldn't get a majority of votes in parliament, or that 70% of the population is against this law. Pushing it through anyway is blatant authoritarianism.

TL;DR: This is only tangentially about retirement age. The reform will make life harder for people with low incomes, or with no higher education, for manual workers, for women—mothers especially, for POC, for people with disabilities or chronic conditions, etc. This is about solidarity.

Hope (sincerely) this helps.

[larkiethings]

I was writing this in the tags but I want to include sources. I’m gonna tell you why drugs don’t go generic right away, and I want you to know that I don’t agree with the reasoning here, but this is how the system works.

New drugs are priced so much to recoup some of the losses of research. Drug research is insanely expensive. Whether you’re talking about buffers and reagents in the lab, machines designed to give scientists highly specific information, or required animal research, it’s EXPENSIVE. I tried to pull up an example for a standard microscope but companies that make lab equipment don’t have prices on their website, you have to fill out a form to request a quote.

So, lab equipment is expensive. You also have to go through rounds of animal testing. One lab mouse can cost hundreds of dollars, depending on how it has been genetically designed to give the best research results. And spoiler alert, you need repeat results, meaning multiple mice, and then larger lab animals because humans aren’t mice and we need to be sure drugs are safe before testing them on humans. Raising and caring for lab animals also takes lots of highly trained staff, which adds to the expense. This is partially why a lot of scientists in animal research are pushing for alternative research methods, because it is more humane and more cost effective to reduce our reliance on animal models.

So it’s expensive to do research, and then you get into patent law. Drugs get 20 years of patents, although that’s from when the patent was filed - which is often BEFORE the drug hits the market. You can patent a drug and then still have several more years of development. So in practice, drugs are often on the market for less than their patent time. From the drug company’s perspective, they need to recoup their losses in that amount of time, and the high price of the name brand drug is funding the ongoing research of the next drug.

Generic drugs don’t have to go through animal or clinical trials, so companies making generic drugs ONLY have to consider the manufacturing cost when pricing their drugs. This is why they’re so much cheaper, because all they have to prove is that their drug is the same as the patented one.

Lenacapavir is STILL IN CLINICAL TRIALS, according to the source linked above. It hasn’t been approved for prevention. I believe it will probably be approved, but the point is that it’s a very new drug and still within its patent range. I’m not entirely sure when the patent was filed, but the fact is that it will have a generic eventually. Just not right now. But the reasoning for drugs being so expensive is that they’re factoring in the cost of research, not just the cost of production. I don’t like it! It’s a bad system! But that’s why it is the way it is

Source

[firestorm09890]

there's a part of canto vi I've been thinking about since it came out, and it doesn't actually have anything to do with Heathcliff.

this

She is bitter as fuck and as time goes on she's getting worse at keeping it down. Sinclair's the one who started it, by talking about how sad it is that they'd never get to see color, and Rodya starts to get a little irritated over it (yeah, sure, pity the Backstreets folk and their poor miserable little lives, privileged nest boy), but she's obviously trying not to straight up call Sinclair a privileged nest boy because she doesn't want to. But then Yi Sang and Ishmael join in on talking about how sad this place is with no color and she just can't keep her opinion down.

But that makes the atmosphere tense, and she hates a tense atmosphere, so she changes the subject and her tone, not giving a damn about how obvious it is. also, haha, ice and cold references.

And actually, this doesn't really have much evidence to support it, but I wonder if she holds a higher level of resentment for Sinclair in particular.

Canto II had some discussion about how Rodya wishes she was special (and while I think what Sonya said about her killing the tax collector just to feel special is absolute bullshit, I do also think there is some truth to her wanting to feel special), and introduced us to the concept of The Sign in a way that was vague and more like foreshadowing than actually introducing it. Then Canto III was all about The Sign, and how special Sinclair is, and since then we've had people talking about signs and stars and a new birth of the world and it's all stuff Rodya doesn't get to be part of.

I don't think she wants to hold resentment for Sinclair, and she especially never wants him to know, but going back after all this time and rereading this one interaction with him in Canto II felt pretty jarring.

the more important part of this is the way it feels like she's making a joke at Heathcliff's expense, for being poor, like even though she's also from the Backstreets she feels she's "above" it.

She absolutely does not feel this way.

On my way to find the first passage, I reread some other interesting stuff:

Once again, there's the harsh juxtaposition between casual, fun-loving Rodya, and tired, poor man's advocate Rodya. Almost everyone on the team speaks through the lens of a Nest dweller (I have to wonder if learning that Heathcliff was apparently raised in a mansion made her even more bitter), and the way she's so short with her mention of the Sweepers makes me think she's thinking about how painfully obvious it would have been to any other Backstreets dweller. And then, right after, dropping back into her casual voice, and Sinclair revealing that Rodya used the fucked up Backstreets creature to tease him...

Other obvious moments of Rodya being bitter as hell about rich people include this part of S.E.A.

and this part of her observation logs on Spiral of Contempt (actually, nearly everything in that log that isn't about the physical abnormality has to do with how much she hates how rich people look down upon the poor)

Hong Lu's canto comes after Don's, and then after his is Ryōshū's, who, based on her source material, probably served one of the most awful, contemptuous rich people the sinners have access to, and I really hope at some point here Rodya gets to snap in a big way

...hey so I wrote this entire post at 1 in the morning and then saved it to drafts because I didn't want to post something at 1 in the morning. the Timekilling Time trailer came out about two hours later, featuring both Rodya... and the long-awaited return of the Yurodiviye. so now it's past 3 in the morning for me but I'm posting it now anyway because ohohoho seeing the Yurodiviye again has given me SO much energy

I have a feeling all this is going to be very relevant extremely soon

[tomorrowusa]

^^^ This is why people think things are getting worse. 1% of the US population owns 31.4% of the nation's wealth.

This is the result of massive tax breaks for the filthy rich which began under Republican Ronald Reagan in the early 1980s, were boosted twice by Republican George W. Bush in the 2000s, and got a big boost under Republican billionaire Donald Trump.

David Leonhardt at the New York Times writes...

The simplest explanation for the shift is that the old economic approach hasn’t worked very well for most Americans. Starting in the 1980s, the U.S. moved toward an economic policy that’s variously described as laissez-faire, neoliberal or market-friendly. It involved much lower taxes for the wealthy, less regulation of business, an expansion of global trade, a crackdown on labor unions and an acceptance of very large corporations. The people selling this policy — like Milton Friedman, a Nobel laureate in economics — promised that it would bring prosperity for all. It has not. Incomes for the bottom 90 percent of workers, as ranked by their earnings, have trailed economic growth, and wealth inequality has soared. For years, Americans have told pollsters that they were unhappy with the country’s direction. Perhaps most starkly, the U.S. now has the lowest life expectancy of any affluent country; in 1980, American life expectancy was typical. Conventional wisdom rarely changes quickly. Friedman and his fellow laissez-faire intellectuals spent decades on the fringes, before the 1970s oil crisis and other economic problems caused many Americans to embrace their approach. But conventional wisdom can change eventually. And after decades of unmet promises about the benefits of a neoliberal economy, more people have grown skeptical of it recently.

Massive tax breaks for the filthy rich as a means of boosting economic growth for all was once regarded as fringe economics – until Ronald Reagan took office. Even the man who became Reagan's vice president referred to such a policy in the 1980 primaries as "voodoo economics" – but to no avail. It has largely overshadowed economic policy for the past 40+ years.

There were only two exceptions. In 1993 when Democrat Bill Clinton raised taxes on the filthy rich. The economy soared and the 1990s became the most prosperous decade since the 1950s. And in 2013 Democrat Barack Obama let the Bush tax breaks expire. Sadly, Trump and the then GOP majorities on Capitol brought back the Bush tax breaks in 2017 and have been ironically blaming poor people for the subsequent rise in the national debt.

As president, Trump often contradicted his own populist rhetoric. (His one big piece of legislation was a tax cut that mostly benefited the rich.)

There needs to be a repeal of the Reagan-Bush-Trump tax giveaways to billionaires like Elon Musk.

One stat which Republicans don't like hearing is that in the mid 1950s, the highest federal income tax rate was 91%.

Republicans are nostalgic about some stuff about the 1950s like Jim Crow laws and suppression of women and gays. But they don't talk about the federal tax rate on the filthy rich which helped build the Interstate Highway System and provided low cost college education to the masses.

We don't need to go back to a rate of 91% for the Musks, Trumps, and Zuckerbergs. But just under half that rate would dramatically restore economic balance in this country. And the ONLY way to get there is to keep promoting growing Democratic majorities in Congress and electing Democratic presidents. Votes for third party losers are about as helpful as used toilet paper.

[incompetentmedic]

Pros and cons of being aromantic, in my 5 years of experience

Pros

I’m part of the loveliest community in the world

No awkward teen romances to regret

I don’t have to dedicate all my time to a single person

I have a rich and unique understanding of the human experience

Cons

Higher taxes

Higher insurance rates

Fandoms are harder to navigate

I have to reassure myself that I’m real sometimes

[ryanthedemiboy]

Your doctors are not the 1% either

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Prison-tech is a scam - and a harbinger of your future

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/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

Here's how the shitty technology adoption curve works: when you want to roll out a new, abusive technology, look for a group of vulnerable people whose complaints are roundly ignored and subject them to your bad idea. Sand the rough edges off on their bodies and lives. Normalize the technological abuse you seek to inflict.

Next: work your way up the privilege gradient. Maybe you start with prisoners, then work your way up to asylum seekers, parolees and mental patients. Then try it on kids and gig workers. Now, college students and blue collar workers. Climb that curve, bit by bit, until you've reached its apex and everyone is living with your shitty technology:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

Prisoners, asylum seekers, drug addicts and other marginalized people are the involuntary early adopters of every form of disciplinary technology. They are the leading indicators of the ways that technology will be ruining your life in the future. They are the harbingers of all our technological doom.

Which brings me to Minnesota.

Minnesota is one of the first states make prison phone-calls free. This is a big deal, because prison phone-calls are a big business. Prisoners are literally a captive audience, and the telecommunications sector is populated by sociopaths, bred and trained to spot and exploit abusive monopoly opportunities. As states across America locked up more and more people for longer and longer terms, the cost of operating prisons skyrocketed, even as states slashed taxes on the rich and turned a blind eye to tax evasion.

This presented telco predators with an unbeatable opportunity: they approached state prison operators and offered them a bargain: "Let us take over the telephone service to your carceral facility and we will levy eye-watering per-minute charges on the most desperate people in the world. Their families – struggling with one breadwinner behind bars – will find the money to pay this ransom, and we'll split the profits with you, the cash-strapped, incarceration-happy state government."

This was the opening salvo, and it turned into a fantastic little money-spinner. Prison telco companies and state prison operators were the public-private partnership from hell. Prison-tech companies openly funneled money to state coffers in the form of kickbacks, even as they secretly bribed prison officials to let them gouge their inmates and inmates' families:

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2019/02/mississippi-corrections-corruption-bribery-private-prison-hustle/

As digital technology got cheaper and prison-tech companies got greedier, the low end of the shitty tech adoption curve got a lot more crowded. Prison-tech companies started handing out "free" cheap Android tablets to prisoners, laying the groundwork for the next phase of the scam. Once prisoners had tablets, prisons could get rid of phones altogether and charge prisoners – and their families – even higher rates to place calls right to the prisoner's cell.

Then, prisons could end in-person visits and replace them with sub-skype, postage-stamp-sized videoconferencing, at rates even higher than the voice-call rates. Combine that with a ban on mailing letters to and from prisoners – replaced with a service that charged even higher rates to scan mail sent to prisoners, and then charged prisoners to download the scans – and prison-tech companies could claim to be at the vanguard of prison safety, ending the smuggling of dope-impregnated letters and other contraband into the prison system.

Prison-tech invented some wild shit, like the "digital stamp," a mainstay of industry giant Jpay, which requires prisoners to pay for "stamps" to send or receive a "page" of email. If you're keeping score, you've realized that this is a system where prisoners and their families have to pay for calls, "in-person" visits, handwritten letters, and email.

It goes on: prisons shuttered their libraries and replaced them with ebook stores that charged 2-4 times the prices you'd pay for books on the outside. Prisoners were sold digital music at 200-300% markups relative to, say, iTunes.

Remember, these are prisoners: locked up for years or decades, decades during which their families scraped by with a breadwinner behind bars. Prisoners can earn money, sure – as much as $0.89/hour, doing forced labor for companies that contract with prisons for their workforce:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2017/04/10/wages/

Of course, there's the odd chance for prisoners to make really big bucks – $2-5/day. All they have to do is "volunteer" to fight raging wildfires:

https://www.hcn.org/articles/climate-desk-wildfire-california-incarcerated-firefighters-face-dangerous-work-low-pay-and-covid19/

So those $3 digital music tracks are being bought by people earning as little as $0.10/hour. Which makes it especially galling when prisons change prison-tech suppliers, whereupon all that digital music is deleted, wiping prisoners' media collection out – forever (literally, for prisoners serving life terms):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/08/captive-audience-how-floridas-prisons-and-drm-made-113m-worth-prisoners-music

Let's recap: America goes on a prison rampage, locking up ever-larger numbers of people for ever-longer sentences. Once inside, prisoners had their access to friends and family rationed, along with access to books, music, education and communities outside. This is very bad for prisoners – strong ties to people outside is closely tied to successful reentry – but it's great for state budgets, and for wardens, thanks to kickbacks:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2021/12/21/family_contact/

Back to Minnesota: when Minnesota became the fourth state in the USA where the state, not prisoners, would pay for prison calls, it seemed like they were finally breaking the vicious cycle in which every dollar ripped off of prisoners' family paid 40 cents to the state treasury:

https://www.kaaltv.com/news/no-cost-phone-calls-for-those-incarcerated-in-minnesota/

But – as Katya Schwenk writes for The Lever – what happened next is "a case study in how prison communication companies and their private equity owners have managed to preserve their symbiotic relationship with state corrections agencies despite reforms — at the major expense of incarcerated people and their families":

https://www.levernews.com/wall-streets-new-prison-scam/

Immediately after the state ended the ransoming of prisoners' phone calls, the private-equity backed prison-tech companies that had dug their mouth-parts into the state's prison jacked up the price of all their other digital services. For example, the price of a digital song in a Minnesota prison just jumped from $1.99 to $2.36 (for prisoners earning as little as $0.25/hour).

As Paul Wright from the Human Rights Defense Center told Schwenk, "The ideal world for the private equity owners of these companies is every prisoner has one of their tablets, and every one of those tablets is hooked up to the bank account of someone outside of prison that they can just drain."

The state's new prison-tech supplier promises to double the amount of kickbacks it pays the state each year, thanks to an aggressive expansion into games, money transfers, and other "services." The perverse incentive isn't hard to spot: the more these prison-tech companies charge, the more kickbacks they pay to the prisons.

The primary prison-tech company for Minnesota's prisons is Viapath (nee Global Tel Link), which pioneered price-gouging on in-prison phone calls. Viapath has spent the past two decades being bought and sold by different private equity firms: Goldman Sachs, Veritas Capital, and now the $46b/year American Securities.

Viapath competes with another private equity-backed prison-tech giant: Aventiv (Securus, Jpay), owned by Platinum Equity. Together, Viapath and Aventiv control 90% of the prison-tech market. These companies have a rap-sheet as long as your arm: bribing wardens, stealing from prisoners and their families, and recording prisoner-attorney calls. But these are the kinds of crimes the state punishes with fines and settlements – not by terminating its contracts with these predators.

These companies continue to flout the law. Minnesota's new free-calls system bans prison-tech companies from paying kickbacks to prisons and prison-officials for telcoms services, so the prison-tech companies have rebranded ebooks, music, and money-transfers as non-communications products, and the kickbacks are bigger than ever.

This is the bottom end of the shitty technology adoption curve. Long before Ubisoft started deleting games that you'd bought a "perpetual license" for, prisoners were having their media ganked by an uncaring corporation that knew it was untouchable:

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

Revoking your media, charging by the byte for messaging, confiscating things in the name of security and then selling them back to you – these are all tactics that were developed in the prison system, refined, normalized, and then worked up the privilege gradient. Prisoners are living in your technology future. It's just not evenly distributed – yet.

As it happens, prison-tech is at the heart of my next novel, The Bezzle, which comes out on Feb 20. This is a followup to last year's bestselling Red Team Blues, which introduced the world to Marty Hench, a two-fisted, hard-bitten, high-tech forensic accountant who's spent 40 years busting Silicon Valley finance scams:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

In The Bezzle, we travel with Marty back to the mid 2000s (Hench is a kind of tech-scam Zelig and every book is a standalone tale of high-tech ripoffs from a different time and place). Marty's trying to help his old pal Scott Warms, a once-high-flying founder who's fallen prey to California's three-strikes law and is now facing decades in a state pen. As bad as things are, they get worse when the prison starts handing out "free" tablet and closing down the visitation room, the library, and the payphones.

This is an entry to the thing I love most about the Hench novels: the opportunity to turn all this dry, financial skullduggery into high-intensity, high-stakes technothriller plot. For me, Marty Hench is a tool for flensing the scam economy of all its layers of respectability bullshit and exposing the rot at the core.

It's not a coincidence that I've got a book coming out in a week that's about something that's in the news right now. I didn't "predict" this current turn – I observed it. The world comes at you fast and technology news flutters past before you can register it. Luckily, I have a method for capturing this stuff as it happens:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Writing about tech issues that are long-simmering but still in the periphery is a technique I call "predicting the present." It's the technique I used when I wrote Little Brother, about out-of-control state surveillance of the internet. When Snowden revealed the extent of NSA spying in 2013, people acted as though I'd "predicted" the Snowden revelations:

https://www.wired.com/story/his-writing-radicalized-young-hackers-now-he-wants-to-redeem-them/

But Little Brother and Snowden's own heroic decision have a common origin: the brave whistleblower Mark Klein, who walked into EFF's offices in 2006 and revealed that he'd been ordered by his boss at AT&T to install a beam-splitter into the main fiber trunk so that the NSA could illegally wiretap the entire internet:

https://www.eff.org/document/public-unredacted-klein-declaration

Mark Klein inspired me to write Little Brother – but despite national press attention, the Klein revelations didn't put a stop to NSA spying. The NSA was still conducting its lawless surveillance campaign in 2013, when Snowden, disgusted with NSA leadership for lying to Congress under oath, decided to blow the whistle again:

https://apnews.com/article/business-33a88feb083ea35515de3c73e3d854ad

The assumption that let the NSA get away with mass surveillance was that it would only be weaponized against the people at the bottom of the shitty technology adoption curve: brown people, mostly in other countries. The Snowden revelations made it clear that these were just the beginning, and sure enough, more than a decade later, we have data-brokers sucking up billions in cop kickbacks to enable warrantless surveillance, while virtually following people to abortion clinics, churches, and protests. Mass surveillance is chugging its way up the shitty tech adoption curve with no sign of stopping.

Like Little Brother, The Bezzle is intended as a kind of virtual flythrough of what life is like further down on that curve – a way for readers who have too much agency to be in the crosshairs of a company like Viapath or Avently right now to wake up before that kind of technology comes for them, and to inspire them to take up the cause of the people further down the curve who are mired in it.

The Bezzle is an intense book, but it's also a very fun story – just like Little Brother. It's a book that lays bare the internal technical workings of so many scams, from multi-level marketing to real-estate investment trusts, from music royalty theft to prison-tech, in the course of an ice-cold revenge plot that keeps twisting to the very last page.

It'll drop in six days. I hope you'll check it out:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

[bioethicists]

beer killed my father . he had a disease which destroyed his body and strained his relationships with his wife, his friends, and his children. Alcohol destroys everything it touches, theres a reason you see so many liquor stores in poor neighborhoods. don’t be fucking obtuse. Prohibition obviously doesn’t work, but I wish alcohol was taxed higher. And i want the CEO of Heineken on the guillotine right after Jeff Bezos.

before anything, i want to let you know that i am incredibly sorry about your father. alcohol has decimated entire generations of my family, played a crucial role in the neglectful family structure i spent the first 19 years of my life suffering under, + played a minor but not insignificant role in my brother's death. i would never undermine or dismiss that in anyone.

i used to feel very similarly to you, in large part because my mother is a recovering alcoholic who raised me to believe that alcohol is a magic poison which turns people into monsters + i, being her child, probably inherited a disease which would also turn me into a monster if i chose to drink. it's a deeply painful + understandable response to the pain that alcohol can cause.

my first question is, does alcohol really "destroy everything it touches"? are there not millions of people who engage with alcohol, in varying degrees of recreational use, who experience minimal or no negative impacts? or do you believe that everyone who drinks alcohol in any capacity is experiencing severe destruction in their lives as a result? does the existence of people for whom alcohol enriches their lives (or is a neutral presence) at all invalidate your experience, or your father's?

my second question is, you've identified that there are 'so many liquor stores in poor neighborhoods' (i would add there is a lot of alcohol in rich neighborhoods, just distributed in less stigmatized ways, like boutique wineries + fancy bars), do you think that companies are strategically attempting to create alcohol dependencies among poor people, or do you think that poverty creates the pain, hopelessness, + desperation which can fuel an alcohol habit (which is then exacerbated by intergenerational trauma + community alcohol culture).

i feel no allegiance to liquor companies- they absolutely do make the bulk of their profits off of people who are drinking in a way that is destroying their lives (unsure if i trust the exact scope of the research in that link but i trust the gist). however, liquor companies love the disease model, because it exempts them from responsibility. if alcoholism is truly a genetic disease, then liquor companies, bars, package stores hold no fault in the development of destructive drinking habits + community norms (natasha Schüll discusses this in her book about gambling addiction)- the people were already sick + would be getting it somewhere else, anyway, right? but as you have correctly identified, liquor companies help create the structures which turn alcohol use into an accessible + normalized mode of self-destruction.

my third question is, will taxing liquor help the real problem? yes, it reduces alcohol consumption, but does it reduce addiction? or does it make cheapskates like me say "i'm not fucking paying for that" while individuals who consume alcohol compulsively either eat the cost or turn to more illicit ways of obtaining alcohol. or, rephrased, is the problem that alcohol is too accessible? is alcohol a magical poison which turns 'normal' people into 'alcoholics'? alternatively, is alcoholism a genetic condition, unrelated to any outside circumstances, which is triggered by drinking?

or: is alcoholism one of many ways in which people who are experiencing hopelessness, pain, grief, poverty, trauma, etc use to numb themselves, harm themselves, + make life feel more bearable? at this point, i do believe there is at least a temperament factor which makes people more likely to use substances over other forms of escape (hence why my brother used substances while i turned to anorexia + do not struggle with substance use). are we actually addressing the problem if we make it more expensive (thus, mind you, further impoverishing people with alcohol addictions!)? or are we shifting the pain these people are experiencing to either other avenues (opioids, other drugs, totally different ways of coping which are often just as destructive) or an unregulated, underground alcohol market.

the way you are viewing alcohol, alcohol is a unique substance which is manufacturing or feeding illness in people in order to make them behave in ways which destroy their lives + the lives of others. the way i am viewing it, alcohol is a presence which can fill a void that is being created in people's lives as a response to structural, communal, or social suffering. when alcohol is painted as the cause of this pain, we are able to look the other way from a which world is structured to cause an immense amount of people to suffer needlessly. at the same time, the common sense observation that many of us engage with alcohol in ways which do not destroy our lives, as well as the knowledge that prohibition does not work, prevents the erasure of alcohol from public or private life.

who benefits from the belief that alcohol is a uniquely corrupting substance? what lessons did we actually learn from prohibition- is trying to do it to a lesser degree (make alcohol less accessible) actually going to do anything? when the price of opioids went up due to dea crackdowns, did people stop buying opioids or did the market flood with cheap + deadly fentanyl? is the problem that people are drinking or that they are suffering?

[slut4thebroken]

Name Your Price

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x escort!reader

Summary | He has too much money for his own good lol.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, sex work, face fucking, deep throating, doggy, light spanking lol, humiliation, lots a degradation, a sprinkle of praise, our man is needy and whiny.

Words | 3.4 k

Notes | Imagine that gif is him looking at you on your knees heheh

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Your usual clientele are definitely in a higher tax bracket than most people, but you’ve never been with someone as rich as Robert Fischer. The second he had you literally sign an NDA you looked him up, seeing that he was next in line to take over his father’s business. That’s when it all started to make sense. Usually men pay to take you out, show you off, and then more often than not, fuck you. But Robert made it clear from the start that he wasn’t interested in those services you offer. He just wanted to fuck you, and he wanted to do it discreetly. 

He bought a hotel room for the night and paid for your ride here, as well as the clothes he requested you wear. What would’ve normally pissed you off if he were paying the usual price would’ve been how nit picky he was. He told you exactly how to do your hair and make up, where to shave and where not to shave, even down to you fucking perfume— it just had to be something sweet like vanilla. You were glad that all of the details were discussed over the phone because you would’ve rolled your eyes and laughed in his face at all of his demands.

He also told you exactly how to act— submissive, obedient, subservient. You’re not normally that kind of submissive, but, again, you agreed simply because of the money. 

Staring at the clock on the nightstand, your foot bounced incessantly as you waited for him. You’ve never been this nervous for a client. He’s paying you so much money… what if you fuck something up? It was almost ironic that your overthinking was putting you into the headspace he requested. 

At 8:59, you moved down to the floor and waited on your knees with your head down, like he requested. Your heart pounded in your chest from the anticipation and it took everything you had to keep your head down when you heard the door open. 

Even though you’re used to fucking ugly, old men, you prayed Robert would be an exception, but you knew that being hot on top of how much he was paying you would be too good to be true. He sounded decently young on the phone, but you still had no indication on whether or not he’s actually attractive. You heard him walking somewhere in the room, then glass clinking, then a drink being poured. 

“Less than a minute in and you’ve already disobeyed me.” He said calmly, making your heart drop. How?? You haven’t even done anything yet! He answered your silent question for you. “Hands behind your back.” You immediately complied, feeling a little dumb for forgetting something so simple. “You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight since I’m assuming you’d prefer to leave here with the agreed upon amount?” You weren’t sure if his question was rhetorical or not. He let out a soft sigh and you heard his footsteps before he landed in front of you. 

“Answer me.” 

“Yes, sir. I do prefer that..” When you saw his hand moving forward you almost moaned at the sight of just his fingers. But your chance to admire them went far too quickly when he placed a single digit under your chin and tilted your head up. Your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat when you saw his face. You figured there was a small chance he might be attractive, but you didn’t actually think he’d be down right gorgeous. You bit your lip as your gaze trailed all over his face, taking in every inch. 

“Did you do everything I instructed?” He released your chin and took a sip of his drink, still staring down at you. 

“Yes, sir.” It felt like you were still in shock, just from seeing his face. 

“Good. The dress looks nice.” You couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. 

“Thank you.” 

“Stand up.” You did as he said, then waited for the next instruction. “Give me a spin. I want to see if it was money well spent.” You blushed, but turned around for him. “Slower.” He suddenly said, making you freeze, then continue at a slower pace. He hummed in appreciation and you could practically feel his eyes running over every inch of you. When you were facing him again, you waited, watching as he downed the rest of his drink then walked over to the table to set it down. You didn’t move, not sure if you were allowed to or not, and he sat down in the arm chair, then cleared his throat. 

“Show me the underwear.” You slowly lifted the dress until it was resting around your waist, exposing the lacy panties. “Come here.” You walked over and stood in front of him, trying to keep your breathing steady when he gently placed his hands on your thighs and snaked them up to your hips. He used his grip to turn you around, then moved one hand to grope your ass. You let out a surprised moan at the sudden spank and he hummed in approval again. 

“Very good.” You had to swallow down a whine when his hands abruptly left your body. “Face me and get on your knees.” His eyes moved up and down your body, taking you in again as you did what he said. “Remove my shoes.” You reached toward his feet, but he stopped you. “Carefully. Just one of those is worth double what I’m paying you.” You nodded and gently untied the laces of his dress shoes before slipping them off his feet and placing them neatly on the ground beside the chair. 

“Should I fuck your mouth? Or should I just get right to fucking your cunt.” You were mostly sure he was talking to himself and not actually asking you. He has you for two hours, so he has time for both. He seemed to finally come to a decision and he leaned back in the chair, staring down at you. “Be a good girl and show me how that lipstick looks on my cock.” He suddenly said, making arousal pool in your stomach. 

“Yes, sir.” You squeezed your thighs together to relieve a little bit of the ache as you worked on opening his pants. Once his belt was unbuckled and his pants were unzipped, you pulled them and his underwear down just enough to free his length since he didn’t lift up to let you take them fully off. You stroked him slowly, marveling at how big he felt in your hand, even just half hard. 

“Did I tell you to give me a hand job?” He asked impatiently. 

“N-no, sorry…” You swallowed thickly and leaned closer to start mouthing at the tip. Your hand remained unmoving on the base just to keep it steady. He let out a pleased sigh as you suckled on the head of his cock, being sure to lick up any precum. 

“Go on, whore. Let’s see if you’re worth what I’m paying.” You blushed as the crude name and squeezed your thighs together even tighter. Not wanting to make him get even more impatient, you started bobbing up and down his cock, keeping your tongue flat against the underside as you hallowed your cheeks. You moved your hand down to cup his balls as you took him a little deeper. When he let out a heavy breath and gently grabbed your hair, you looked up at him. You continued the same pace, sometimes flicking your tongue over the tip when you went up. After a while though, he huffed and tightened his grip on your hair.  

“Are you one of those whores who can’t deepthroat? Because I don’t think I should be paying full price for a shitty blowjob.” You immediately took the hint and went down until he reached the back of your mouth. After taking a deep breath, you pushed the rest of the way, breaching your throat barrier. You focused mostly on stimulating his balls as you stayed buried on his cock for as long as you could take it. Only a few seconds later, you were pulling off, gasping in breaths and trying to calm down to do it all again. You took him in your mouth again, not stopping until he was buried in your throat. 

“You can do better than that, whore.” He started moving you up and down his cock, forcing it down your throat with each bob of your head. It wasn’t long before you were choking and sputtering as tears filled your eyes. When he pulled you off, you coughed, but didn’t have a chance to collect yourself before he was pushing your face against his balls. You whimpered at the degrading act, trying to ignore the feeling of his spit soaked cock resting on your face. 

When he tightened his grip on your hair and pushed you into him harder, you started mouthing at his balls. You licked and sucked, pushing down the embarrassment to focus on making him feel good. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to do this, but it is the first time you weren’t completely disgusted by it. Robert kept himself well groomed and you found yourself getting even needier despite how dirty and used you felt. 

Once he’d had enough, he pulled you back and forced you down on his cock again, all but impaling your throat with how fast and hard he did it. You gagged instantly, but he ignored it and started using your mouth the same way he would a fleshlight. On a particularly harsh thrust, you let out a strangled whimper and the tears in your eyes began to fall. 

“Stop fucking whining.” He spat. It almost seemed like he started going faster simply because of how much you were struggling to take it. Your hands grabbed his thighs, digging your fingers into the covered skin, and he used his free hand to slap your cheek. “Hands behind your back.” He scolded and you hesitated, but eventually obeyed. The next time he forced you all the way down, he held you there, keeping a firm grip on your hair to prevent you from moving. 

“Stick your tongue out.” You did your best to do what he said. “Good girl. Lick my balls.” You let out a strangled sob at the utterly vulgar and degrading order. Regardless, you stuck your tongue out farther and did your best to lick them. “Look at me.” Your teary eyes fluttered up to meet his gaze and he let out a breathy groan at the sight. “No waterproof mascara, just like I said.” He said almost proudly as he used his free hand to cup your cheek and brush his thumb over what you assumed were mascara tracks. 

When you started gagging and sputtering and trying to pull off, he let go of your hair, letting you move back. You coughed lightly and cleared your throat, doing your best to collect yourself somewhat quickly. 

“On the bed. Face down, ass up.”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was already hoarse. You stood up on shaky legs, feeling unstable in your too high heels, and walked over to the bed to kneel on it. He remained sitting on the chair, watching you closely. When you leaned down to rest your head and chest on the bed, a light blush tinted your cheeks. 

“Arch your back.” You could faintly hear wet noises and the knowledge that he was jerking off just to the sight of you almost had you moaning and squirming. You arched your back, but he still wasn’t satisfied. “More. Spread your legs apart.” You shuffled your knees out and bent your back even more, starting to feel the strain and discomfort. When he didn’t respond, you assumed he was happy with the position. 

“Do you always get this wet when you're working?” His tone was far too innocent for the vulgar question he asked. Your blush darkened even more once you realized that your arousal was already soaking the fabric of your underwear. 

“No, sir..”

“Speak up.” He snapped. 

“No, sir.” You said again, a little louder this time. 

“Is it the money that turns you on?” His voice was closer now, like he was standing at the foot of the bed. 

“No.” Even though the money definitely helped, it was primarily because of him. 

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you tell me what it is that’s getting you all worked up then.” With the way that he spoke, you could tell he already knew and just wanted to tease you about it. 

“You, sir.” 

“Me? What about me?” You hated the way that he was playing dumb like this, but you mostly hated the fact that it turned you on. 

“Y-your cock… And the things you do and say to me.” This was almost more humiliating than sucking on his balls with his cock laying heavy on your face. You felt the bed dip as he presumably kneeled behind you. 

“You want my cock?” 

“Please, sir.” You tried not to whine when you spoke. 

“I’m not entirely convinced you really want it.” You couldn't swallow down the whine this time. 

“Please, sir. I want your cock.” You begged, unconsciously pushing your hips back. “Please fuck me,” You jumped when you felt his hands on your ass, then moaned loudly when he ripped a hole in the crotch of your underwear. “Please— I need you to fuck me, sir.” You whined. 

“That’s better.” You gasped when the head of his cock dragged through your folds, spreading your arousal. He finally pushed in and you fisted the sheets as your lips parted in a silent moan. He’s just so fucking big. It’s not that you can’t take it, it’s just that he’s filling every part of you perfectly, satisfying every craving you have. 

“Fuck— Oh fuck,” You moaned, burying your face in the bed to muffle your sounds. Once his hips were flush with your ass, he didn’t bother giving you a chance to adjust before starting a slow pace. 

“You’re pretty tight for a whore.” He commented casually, making you sob out a moan. You’ve never particularly liked being called a whore, but for some reason when he says it, you just just get infinitely more turned on. “I half expected I’d need to fuck your ass instead.” He said amusedly. 

“Sir,” You gasped out, arching your back more and pushing your hips toward him. “Please.” 

“Please?” 

“Please go faster, or harder— anything.” You begged pathetically. You’ve never genuinely begged a client for something like this.  

“I didn’t know I was paying you to make demands.” You whined, a little too bratty for his liking based on the way he slapped your ass hard enough to leave it stinging for a few seconds. “You’re not some girl I picked up and took home. You’re my whore for the night. Fucking act like it.” You couldn’t help but mewl at his words. 

“I-I’m sorry. You just feel so good, sir.” All of a sudden, his hand was grabbing your hair and pulling your head back until you were looking at the ceiling. You held yourself up with your hands on the bed, but the position was still uncomfortable. 

“Every time you talk back, you lose a hundred.” He warned, making you whine. “That includes whining.” He spanked you again with his free hand and you cried out at the sting. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes! Yes, sir, I understand.” As soon as you got the words out, he shoved your head forward and released your hair. Your face landed against the bed with a startled grunt that cut off into a moan when he sped up. He was still going far too slow, but you bit your lip to keep yourself from whining or begging. 

“Even as a whore you’re fucking useless.” He scoffed. You let out a choked sob and grabbed the sheets harder. He sped up even more, forcing out little grunts and whimpers from you with each thrust. You ached to reach a hand down to your clit, but you knew you couldn’t. Not after his warning about “making demands.”

“Fuck— I’m already close.” You couldn’t help but notice how pretty his voice sounded as he continued becoming more and more breathless from the pleasure. 

“Remember to pull out.” You said, breaking character for a moment. On the phone, when he asked if you had any rules or limits, the only thing you said was that he can’t come inside. You don’t care if he fucks you raw, just so long as he pulls out. With a frustrated growl, he flipped you onto your back, immediately pushing back in to keep fucking you. 

“How much?” He leaned over you, his face level with yours. The feeling of his breath fanning your lips was making it hard to think. 

“What?” You asked dumbly. 

“To come inside. How much?” His pace was becoming even more frantic and he was beginning to pant heavily from the exertion. 

“Robert…” 

“Name your price. What do you want? Ten grand?” Your eyes widened at his offer. “Fifteen?” There’s no way he’s being serious right now. When he noticed your disbelief, he paused, then reached in his pants pocket to pull out his wallet and toss it on the bed next to you. When your disbelief turned into confusion, he explained. “A down payment.” His thrusts picked back up again, forcing a moan out of you as he resumed the unrelenting pace. “Well?” You glanced at the wallet, seeing how much cash was inside, then let out a heavy breath. 

“Fuck— fine. Fine.” You could immediately see the shift in his expression, showing how pleased he was with your answer. 

“Good girl. I might just have to hire you again.” He grinned at the thought and you felt your stomach fill with butterflies. “Now why don’t you be a good little whore and beg me to fill you up.” His grin turned into a smirk and he started fucking you even more desperately somehow. 

“Please fill me up. I want your come, sir.” You whined, back arching up into him. Despite your rule, part of you was being truthful. The thought of him fucking his come into your needy, abused hole was enough to make you clamp down on his cock, forcing a choked moan out of him. “Please!”

Without another word, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and rutted into you until he finally fell over the edge. He grunted with each snap of his hips, his panting breaths feeling hot against your neck. You squeezed around his cock again, wanting to make it as pleasurable for him as possible. Based on his low moan, it was working. 

He finally stilled and his sounds quieted into heavy breathing as he put some of his weight on you, letting himself rest without actually crushing you. Even though you were submissive enough right now to mostly only care about his pleasure, part of you was still disappointed that you wouldn’t get a chance to come on his cock. 

When his breathing calmed down, he lifted himself up to sit on his knees and slowly dragged out. He pushed your legs up, so you took the initiative and held them close to your chest for him. At the first sight of his come trickling out of you, he released a contented groan. 

“Fuck… Fifteen it is.” He said through a breath. Your holes fluttered as you pushed out more of his come, making him curse under his breath. “Take off the fucking dress before I rip it off and make you go home nude.” He threatened, making you instantly release your legs and scramble to take it off. He ripped your underwear clean off your body, then flipped you onto your stomach. 

“What are you doing?” You gasped, when he straddled your thighs and lined his cock up with your hole again. 

“I paid for two hours. I’m not stopping until I either run out of time, or run out of come.” You choked on your spit at his words, feeling too flustered to figure out how to respond. Before you could even attempt to just think of something to say, he was pushing back in, ridding your head of all thoughts except for him and his cock. 

When you woke up the next day, you saw that he had transferred the original price, plus fifteen thousand. You blinked rapidly and rubbed your eyes, thinking that you read it wrong in your sleepy state, but the number was clear as day. As was the memo reading: You’ll hear from me again soon. 

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[onceuponastory]

wanted dead or alive - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: In a city ruled by the villainous and greedy Sheriff Zemo, a hero emerges - Bucky Barnes. Together with his band of merry men, they steal from the rich and give to the poor. After doing it for a while, he’s come to expect that doing so makes him less than popular with the nobles. But he never expected to meet someone like Lady Y/N. (Robin Hood!AU) Pairing: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x Noble/Lady!Female!Reader Warnings:  Mentions of poverty and starvation, period typical sexism and classism, mentions of a potential arranged marriage, reader's parents are assholes, and Bucky and his Merry Men threatening reader at first. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: I've had this idea in the works for a while, and finally got the motivation to finish it. Thank you so much to @mrsmischief209 for helping me work out this idea, for beta reading, and for helping me decide on the Nick Fowler look for Robin Hood!Bucky 👀

Once upon a time, in a city on the outskirts of a forest, Sheriff Zemo ruled with an iron fist, casting fear over the community. Selfish and cruel, he and his henchmen found a twisted pleasure in tormenting the people, whether by having his henchmen be deliberately rough with them, or by imprisoning those who dared to speak out against him. But what brought him the most joy was rising taxes and spending the money on himself and his lavish lifestyle. As the people starved, the Sheriff, his henchmen and the nobles flourished, untouched by his laws.

However, it wasn't long before a hero emerged from the shadows, filled with unwavering determination to aid the people and break free from the relentless grip of poverty. Bucky Barnes, witnessing the people's suffering under the Sheriff's rule, couldn’t bear it anymore, so decided to take action. 

It started small - he’d discreetly sneak a few pieces of bread and cheese to people whenever he could without being noticed. As time went on, he upped his skills, and stole more and more food. As time went on, he met various allies who wanted to help his cause: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, and others. They formed their own band of rebels, aiming to help the people. Bucky’s Merry Men. As they continued to evade capture, Bucky's determination to dismantle the system grew stronger.

Because although it felt incredibly gratifying to help feed the people, that still wasn’t enough. Zemo's men were still freely attacking and tormenting the impoverished city and its people, with no fear of punishment, imprisoning anyone who spoke out. Bucky and his men knew there was still more to do.

So, they started stealing money from the wealthy and giving it back to the poor. And with each new theft, the nobles and higher-ups grew increasingly aware of their actions.

Especially Sheriff Zemo. First, he sent his henchmen out to get them, but each time, they just evaded his grasp, skilled at hiding in the dense trees surrounding the city, Bucky and his men’s archery skills serving them well. Consumed by anger, Zemo wasted no time in ordering their capture, declaring them as outlaws and placing tempting bounties on their heads to entice the impoverished population to betray them.

Of course, nobody did. So, Bucky and his Merry Men were free to help the people as they pleased, despite the Sheriff and his incredibly powerful friends breathing down their necks.

Yet, despite how gratifying it feels to help others less fortunate than them and enrage the Sheriff in the process… instead, Bucky feels lost. Despite his hatred for the Sheriff, Bucky finds the constant pursuit of him and his men for helping others infuriating, and it only serves to reinforce how insignificant the people are to those in power, and how much they need him. And the longer he observed the people's plight, with no action taken except by him and his Merry Men, the more disillusioned he became with the world.

But most of all, despite his gratitude towards the Merry Men, he secretly dreams of finding his own love and happiness, longing to escape the hardships of poverty. But how can he ever tell them that the heroic outlaw… doesn’t want to be one, at least, not forever?

~ * ~

“Did you see you’ve got a new wanted poster, Bucky?” Steve says to him one day, throwing one over as he and the others relax in the forest, counting the things recovered from their most recent haul. 

“He’s never going to give up, is he?” Bucky laughs. He peers down at the poster, laughing. “I have to admit though, I do look pretty good this time.” He smirks, striking a pose to match the one on the poster. 

“Mhm….” Steve rolls his eyes. “Glad we can see where your priorities lie. Show off.” He teases.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a personalised one.” Bucky smirks. “I’m just in high demand, Steve.” Steve scoffs.

“Yeah, we’re so jealous that Sheriff Zemo isn’t actively encouraging people to hunt us down just for trying to help people.” 

“Technically, he is.” Bucky retorts with a smirk. Although he can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Although grateful for their help, this fight is his alone. He doesn't want them to be hurt because of him.

He can do this alone.

He’s used to being alone, after all. By now, he’s come to expect it.

“Don’t give us that look,” Sam chuckles. “We want to help you. We’re in this together. No arguments.”

“But-”

“But nothing.” Steve cuts him off, and the others nod. Bucky sighs, nodding. 

“Thanks, guys.” He smiles. “It means a lot, you helping me with this.”

“Oh, is the big and scary outlaw suddenly going all gushy and cute on us?” Sam laughs. Bucky rolls his eyes, but can’t deny a small pink hue forms on his cheeks.

“Shove off.” He groans. “Now, come on. Let’s get to work.”

Bucky and the others get started on their training, completely unaware of how their paths would intertwine with someone they could never have expected. Someone else also seeking an escape from their life, this time on the opposite end of the social spectrum. 

~ * ~ 

“Are you sure this is safe, my lady?” Lady Y/N’s maid Rose asks. Y/N chuckles. 

“I’ll be fine. It’s just a ride in the forest.” She smiles, smoothing down her dress. “And I told you already, you can just call me Y/N. Only my parents expect their full titles.” She groans. “I hate it. It feels so impersonal. You’re just the same as me, regardless of our upbringing.”

Despite her noble birth, her life of privilege and wealth, being taught and practically raised by maids and tutors, wearing fine silks and eating quality meals with fine wine to wash it down with…. Y/N hates every single part of it. She hates how people around them flaunt their wealth whilst others suffer, and how her family expects her to find a smug, rich husband of her own to continue the cycle. 

Unlike her parents and everyone else in their social circle, she empathises with the plight of the poor, and longs to help them whenever and wherever she could. She sees her maids as friends, rather than staff. Unfortunately for her, she can’t help as much as she wants to. Her chances of changing society and making something of herself are limited, especially as a woman.

“Remember, there’s that outlaw. He does a lot of good, but-”

“Bucky Barnes.” Y/N sighs dreamily, her eyes sparkling. “Isn’t he exciting?”

Luckily for Y/N, a respite soon appeared in Bucky Barnes and his Merry Men. After being dragged to so many fancy parties and dinners with her parents, Bucky Barnes became a hot topic amongst her parents and their social skills. Either he and his Merry Men robbed them, or they knew someone who had been targeted. Of course, Y/N pretends to be horrified by the news of Bucky and the Merry Men’s escapades, but deep down, the stories of their bravery and heroism excite her. Finally, someone who understood how she felt, someone who could challenge those in power and help others where she couldn’t. 

Bucky was a warning amongst her parents and their friends, a dangerous threat to society and to their social standing. But to Y/N, he was her saviour: someone who showed her that there was a life outside of stuffy dinners, a way to help others. She dreamt of meeting him one day, explaining her story and how she wanted to help. Of course, in her dreams, he always took her under his wing right away, helping her flourish into a member of his team.

He was her hero before she even met him. 

And of course, the fact his wanted posters make him look easy on the eyes isn’t so bad, either.

“Well, yes, but he dislikes nobles.”

“With good reason!” Y/N retorts.

“But you’re a noble.” Rose reminds her. Y/N chuckles, waving off her friend’s worries. “I’ll be fine. I won’t stray too far, I promise.” 

Before Rose can say anything else, Y/N has said goodbye and is heading downstairs. “Where do you think you’re going?” her father raises a brow, his voice booming down the hallway. 

“Just for a ride, father. Rose already knows.” She explains, trying to ignore the steady increase of her heart rate. Her father scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I do wish you would stop calling her that.”

“That is her name, father.” She reminds him. Asshole.

“Don’t backtalk me.” He snaps. “Regardless of whether that's her name or not, it's irrelevant.” He snaps. “I won't allow you to tarnish our family name with your wish for a happy ending and your equal rights nonsense.” He scoffs. “When will you learn they are lesser than us?” 

“Father, I was just being-” she insists, but he cuts her off, his expression twisting as his anger increases.

“I don’t care.” He huffs. “I suggest that you remember your place in this world. Sooner rather than later.”

With that, he storms into the dining room, slamming the door. The sound reverberates around the hallway, making her jump slightly. Her fists clench, both with anger and upset, and she has to grit her teeth practically to dust to stop herself from going after him and giving him a piece of her mind.

How dare he speak about her friend like that?

How dare he speak about anyone like that?

The quicker she gets out of this place, the better.

And with that, Y/N races to the stables and mounts her horse, riding towards the forest. The wind blows, her horse's mane flowing in the wind as her hooves pound the ground and the sun beats down, warming her skin. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the fresh spring air. She loves it here; the tranquillity is exactly what she needs after dealing with her parents and their horrible attitudes.

Yet as she rides deeper into the forest, she does not know she’s being watched.

“Think she’s a noble?” Sam smirks. Bucky raises a brow, staring at her dress as she rides by. The dress is quite simple (at least, by noble standards), but the expensive fabric and detailed embroidery gives her away. Bucky chuckles. 

“Oh yeah. This one should be easy enough.” He grins. “Come on.” He chuckles.

In the next clearing, Y/N lets her horse take a break, fetching some water from a nearby stream whilst she relaxes. “There’s a good girl.” She chuckles, stroking her horse’s mane. Her father’s words from earlier echo in her mind:

“I won't allow you to tarnish our family name with your wish for a happy ending and your equal rights nonsense.” He scoffs. “When will you learn they are lesser than us?” 

She groans, leaning against a tree. “I just wish he could see how I feel.” She sighs. “Realise the unfairness of having your life planned before you can decide what you want. I want to make my own decisions in life.”

Suddenly, a twig snaps behind her. Y/N frowns, raising a brow. “Hello? Is somebody there?”

No answer comes, adding to her confusion. “Maybe it’s just a wild animal.” She chuckles, trying to ignore the way her heartbeat is increasing. She turns back to her horse, ready to ride back…. But then, footsteps. Y/N turns back, seeing a figure approaching. His blue eyes focus on her, and he grins. Y/N’s eyes widen.

“You’re… Bucky Barnes.” She gasps. After longing for this moment for so long, she finally has it, as if given to her on a platter.

“Indeed, I am. I see my reputation precedes me.” Bucky chuckles. 

His wanted posters don’t do him any justice. He’s stunning.

“Oh, I’m Y/N.” She nods. Bucky nods, coming closer. 

“What is your business here?” He demands. Then, she notices other men are coming out of the trees now, circling her. They all stare at her, grinning. 

And then the penny drops. 

Oh. 

Oh, shit. 

After all, Rose was right. Everyone knows what Bucky Barnes and his Merry Men do to nobles. And despite her dress being one of the more simple ones she owns, she’s not exactly inconspicuous. “Take it easy…we’re not going to hurt you. We just want your money.” Bucky says. 

“I don’t have any.” She stammers, backing away once she notices the knives strapped to his waist and the bow and arrow on his back. Bucky is her idol, but she never imagined he would endanger her, even as a noble. “Bucky, listen, I-” she urges.

“Not good enough, sweetheart.” He smirks. “You nobles are always carrying wealth, or something expensive. You just can’t help yourselves, can you? You are always flaunting your wealth. So hand it over.” He orders, his blue eyes now focused on her in a glare.

“Excuse me? You know nothing about me.” She retorts angrily. Bucky chuckles harshly.

“I don’t want to know anything about you nobles.” He scoffs. “I already know your type. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” He’s even closer to her now, staring at her curiously, weighing up which things he can steal. “Well, it ends now.” He declares, his voice deep and husky. Y/N’s heart pounds, and she tries to remain calm, despite the men approaching her. 

She’s dreamt of meeting and helping Bucky for months. And now he’s in front of her… it’s not living up to her expectations, to put it mildly. Yet…with the way he’s sizing her up, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t still the slightest bit attracted to him.

“Bucky, please. I believe in your fight. Let me help you.” She insists. “I’m not like them.”

“Yeah, right.” Bucky scoffs. “You think you’re not the first noble to tell us this? To scream and beg that they didn’t mean to hoard all that wealth? You just couldn’t help it?” He rolls his eyes, clearly sceptical, only making her angrier. “I want to believe you, but you nobles do nothing to change it. You just sit there whilst the people suffer.”

“Because I can’t do anything!” She retorts. “What do you expect me to do? My parents don’t listen to me anyway, let alone other nobles.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. People are starving in the streets, but you and your rich friends live such pampered lives. This is only fair.” He scoffs, which infuriates her.

“For someone so keen to help others, you’re such a judgemental asshole.” She snaps. “Many things can be said about you.” She retorts. “You’re an outlaw, a filthy criminal.” She says. “Sure, you want to help people, but maybe you care more about how it boosts your image.” Bucky’s face falls, his firm resolve faltering. 

She briefly regrets upsetting him, aware of Bucky's dedication to his cause, but it fuels her determination to prove him wrong. “See, you know I’m wrong, that you can’t judge people by where they come from in life. Yet you do it to me. Being born noble does not mean I’m like them.” She says. “I despise the people around me, how greedy they are, and how willing they are to hurt others for their own gain. I try my best to help those in need wherever I can, even if it’s just treating my family’s servants with dignity.” She continues, impassioned.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like, listening to them boasting about all the money they’re making whilst the poor suffer? Being pressured to find a rich husband of my own to continue the cycle? Knowing I can’t do anything about it because I’m a woman, and nobody listens to me? I’m just expected to sit there and look pretty, because ‘I’m not smart enough for these discussions’?” 

“Well, no, but-” Bucky frowns. Of course, plenty of nobles have begged for their mercy before. It’s something he’s used to. But never like this before. This woman, she’s different, she has some fire in her.

And honestly, he likes it. 

“No. You don’t.” She snaps. “They’ve raised me to inherit a life I don’t want.” She tells them. “One full of misery. My parents want to pick out a husband for me, surely one as cruel and greedy as the other nobles.” She knows it’s not Bucky’s fault this is what her life is, but she’s using him as her escape, a way to unleash her anger. “I used to idolise you. I hear so many stories about you, about all of you,” she gestures to the Merry Men “and the good deeds you do. And whilst everyone else I know hates you, I admire you. I wanted so badly to join you. Because I understand your fight, Bucky. I want to help you. You were my escape from my life.” She admits. “But seeing you here, now? Judging me just like the way the nobles judge those lesser than them? And how they judge you? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” She scoffs. “So fine. Take my necklace and keep doing what you’re doing, believing we’re all horrible people.” 

Silence hangs in the air as she finishes up, with Bucky and the Merry Men all watching her intently. “That was…quite the speech.” Bucky chuckles, lost for words. Heat spreads across her cheeks. Now she’s definitely going to get it.

“I was just…” Bucky shakes his head, smiling.

“No, no, please.” He reassures her. “You may be right. Perhaps we have become too judgemental over the years.” He nods. “You really mean that? You want to help us?” He asks, his voice softer. Y/N smiles. 

“Yes, I do.” She agrees, and Bucky nods. 

“Excuse me for a moment.” He steps back from her, calling his Merry Men into a huddle. They murmur amongst themselves. Y/N raises a brow, trying to discern what they’re saying.

“Are you sure about this?” One asks incredulously. “She’s still a noble.”

“She’s right though.” Sam nods. “We can’t do what we do and judge her, too. We barely know her.”

“And she told us she empathises with our fight and told us to just take her jewellery! They never do that.”

“I don’t know. We can’t just take her word for it. What makes you think she’s so believable?” 

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling.” Bucky smiles at his words, and Steve chuckles.

“Oh. I see.” He grins. “Well, I’m in if you are, Bucky.”

“Me too.” Sam nods. Other Merry Men nod, and soon Bucky realises that most of the Merry Men want Y/N to help them. 

He has a good feeling about this.

~ * ~

Soon, Bucky walks back over to her. Y/N watches curiously, hoping he didn’t notice her staring.

“I was expecting you to make a break for it.” He admits, seeming genuinely surprised. “Most of them do.”

“I told you.” She chuckles, the sound a happy burst through the trees. “I’m not like most nobles.” Bucky smiles.

“I can see that,” he whispers. “you’re special, Lady Y/N.” 

“Oh no, please just call me Y/N.” She shakes her head. “My title sounds so formal. I hate it.” But she won’t deny how good it feels to have her title leaving Bucky’s lips. It even makes her stomach flutter.

“You’re really challenging my expectations.” He chuckles. “Anyway, my Merry Men and I were talking, and…”

“And?”

“If you’re serious about helping us… we’d like to take you up on your offer.”

“Really?” she gasps. 

“Consider it a test of sorts, to see your true character, and if you really mean what you say.” She nods. Whilst it still stings to know they don’t fully trust her, this is good. It’s a start, an opportunity to prove herself. And besides, even if she’s not enough for them, at least she’s helping others… and getting to see the incredibly cute outlaw as she does. “We were thinking you could spy for us. Go to your fancy parties, listen in to their conversations, and report back to us.”

“Perfect. I can do that.” She nods. The thought of going back to those unpleasant parties with older men makes her stomach churn, but at least there is some potential for good to come from it. Bucky holds his hand out, and she shakes it.

Despite being an outlaw, his hands are surprisingly soft.

“Well, Y/N.” He says, a smile playing on his lips. “Welcome aboard. Let’s see what you’re capable of.” He chuckles, a glint in his eye.

~ * ~

Wanna see some more Robin Hood!Bucky? 👀

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