#this is why we need more public safety nets

[bananonbinary]

i think its really interesting up there that the person said "sympathy, empathy, or help," because here's the thing: two of those are emotions, and one is an action. you don't "deserve" anyone's sympathy, it's just a thing that happens based on a lot of things, including your past interactions, their emotional range, and how similar you are. and it is CRUCIAL that our legal system is NOT based on personal emotions, because of this exact scenario. you don't want someone to be denied help just because someone else has decided they don't like them. (and also the sheer numbers and distance involved, it is a lot more difficult to have sympathy for the 53rd stranger you've spoken to today, instead of your neighbor greg who you chat with in the morning).

i would in fact encourage saying "i am not sympathetic or empathetic here, but it is still important that they receive help."

Had a conversation with a housemate earlier and I want to reiterate this on the internet. Speaking as a disabled person, who’s been Officially Disabled on paper for more than a decade: I literally do not give two shits if those twits who are taking horse dewormer - the ones seriously damaging their health longterm, what with the risk of blindness and organ damage and all - end up going on disability or receiving public assistance. They should still receive disability benefits if they qualify for them. “It taxes an already stressed system-” Yeah, you know why it’s stressed? Because rich people don’t pay their taxes. We could fund these programs a dozen times over if we actually made it a priority, as a society, to take care of people. And maybe, I don’t know, bought fewer tanks. People still deserve to eat and have housing. We don’t let people starve in the streets because they made bad choices. (Besides, what about those kids whose parents are COVID deniers, or feeding them vetrinary drugs? Do they “deserve” to suffer their whole lives because their parents are assholes?) Once we open that door to “Oh it’s their own fault they’re disabled, so why should society pay for it?” it VERY QUICKLY becomes “Well, it’s your fault for being fat*. Or “You must not have been eating right, so you deserve it.”  Or “It’s your fault for not trying yoga”. Or “This treatment didn’t work for you, so you must have been doing it wrong”.

*This isn’t an academic exercise. The city I live in has a policy that if your disability is due to alcoholism, drug abuse, or “obesity”, you can’t qualify for a reduced fare transit pass, or paratransit services. Do you know how easy it is to spin something into not qualifying for benefits? “Well they’re fat, so the pain must be their own fault.” even if it’s a matter of “Bad knees run in my family, and being in pain all the time makes it really difficult to exercise”. Who gives a shit why it happened? They’re suffering, and access to better transportation would make them suffer less. Actually, if someone’s an alcoholic or addict, I probably want them to have MORE access to public transit? Drunk driving is bad. We don’t give people more reasons to deny people help. I literally do not give even a single, solitary fuck if a million people who “brought it on themselves” get help. Any focus on “BUT THE UNDESERVING-” is an attempt to con you into policing poor people and disabled people more.

[princessbrunette]

let me rip you out of your comfort zone for a moment.

we all know john b to be the calm, patient, comforting daddy— and we love him that way. he’s our safety, a net that catches you when you fall. but, i would be doing you a disservice if i didn’t remind you of the rare but existing side to him that’s a little rougher. a little scarier. think back to when he snuck into tannyhill to supposedly kill ward, and came into sarah’s room with a gun and got all mean and in her face before dragging her outside. that john b.

think season one john b, pre sarah — a little troublesome, sarcastic, always at parties with a girl hanging off his arm, flirts with you by being a little mean.

so with this version of him in mind, let me introduce you to toxicex!johnb.

he’s always teasing you in public, making little jabs at you for the choices you’ve made, following you around the grocery store to banter with you until you’re pouting (when really, he just wanted to follow you around because he’s still madly in love with you.) leaves you with his own smile each and every time, humming out a “nice to see you, sweetheart.” which makes you roll your eyes and simultaneously wanna fuck him just one more time.

he purposely flirts with girls at parties in your line of vision, but it doesn’t sting too much because his eyes are on you the whole time— wide and puppy like when he sees you all over that kook you’ve been seen hanging with. it just makes him madder at you.

but the ending is inevitable each time, you wind up in tears on the doorstep to the chateau, sniffling about how no one can get you off like he could and you need him to put you in your place. just one more time, you beg— and he smiles all understanding and sweet knowing it won’t be.

“was waiting for you to show up. come on in, sweetheart.”

he knows what you need. he needs to put you in that mushy, brainless spot that no guy knows how to invoke. that’s why he’s got you kneeling between his legs on the couch, giving you soft little slaps to your cheek as you whine like the little puppy dog he remembered you to be.

“yeaaah, that was a good one, wasn’t it? got you good there.” he grins, thumbing at the sore skin. “c’mon, sweet girl. another one. yooou can take it. that’s my big girl.” when he smacks you once more.

the dick is phenomenal, way bigger than anyone else you try to replace him with. he’s even kind enough to let you sleep with him in his bed, just for old time sake — but as soon as you wake up you’re shoving your clothes back on. leaving his sleeping body in the sheets.

if you’d only stayed until he woke up, he would have asked you if you wanted to try things again. oh well, he was certain you’d be back soon.

[nctstar]

1.

“Stop that.” He whispered against the skin of your neck. “You know he wouldn’t care.”

“That’s the problem. We need to do this properly.”

“You know why we can’t do that.”

pairing: johnyong x fem!reader (no romantic johnyong ship)

other members: none

word count: 3.7k

genre: romance, angst, with a side of smut

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! profanity, y/n has migraines (pretty severe!), semi-public sex, oral (fem receiving), cheating (? it's complicated), sleeping with your ex, some freaky kissing

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: hi guys, i'm alive :D i've had a lot of ideas recently and a steamy johnyong drama was one of them, and then my eyes feasted upon acne studios event johnny and i finally got the push i needed to go through with writing it :) writing slump over we all cheered wooooo. also, ik it's kinda ~confusing~ rn. this is a series so just trust me okayyyy. also, i love making fic playlists and here's the one for this fic. if you picked up that this is loosely based on the 5SOS song blender pls marry me rn <3 nobody get's 5SOS like I do I swear :( pls hmu if you get me

You wouldn’t have noticed him at all, if it wasn’t for the way you watched Taeyong’s deep brown eyes flicker past you, shadows of stories passing by like it was nothing. You thought nothing of it, but your head turned, your body in tune with his more than you realised. And, just like a bad case of fate, there he was.

Johnny Suh.

He walked in like he owned the place, as he always did. His cocky demeanour hung off his body perfectly, like the oversized leather jacket he wore everywhere he went. His smile made the girl waiting on him eagerly blush, something that made you both angry and a little wistful. Your gaze lingered on far too long. And, as usual, like he always did, Taeyong pretended he didn’t notice. He always pretended, even when you were so far gone, he felt like he was pulling you out of quicksand.

“What colour looks better on me, jagiya?” Switching to Korean was your safety net, something sacred between only you and him, more intimate than the restless nights you spent tangled up in bed, Johnny’s presence a mere afterthought. You turned to Taeyong’s back, his slender body on display in the full-length mirror in front. You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear as you both locked eyes through his reflection.

“Black.”

The seriousness, properness in the air was almost palpable, like you both were being watched, tested and graded. Not a single wrong movement, or breath. It was unbearable and at the same time, so tantalizing, like something could break the surface at any moment. Moving forward, you brought a hand up and over his shoulder, letting your fingers run over his collarbone. “Yeah. Definitely black.”

Taeyong kissed your hand, and you tried to remember when he took your hand in his. “I wanna show you a few more items. In there.” He cocked his head ever so slightly to the curtained fitting rooms, so subtle, meant to remain a secret between the two of you.

Not thinking about Johnny was like trying not to let the plague take over your body. He seeped through you like the truth, feeling right in every scenario. And in this moment, as you let Taeyong run his mouth down the valley of your breasts, your skin erupting in flames underneath his lips, you shut your eyes, and there was Johnny. Your feet on his toned calves, your hands around his thick cock. But when you opened your eyes, there was Taeyong, between your legs, right here, right now.

You clamped your mouth, moans threatening to spill out. “Oh god,” you whispered through your fingers. “R-right ther-haah…” Your thighs constricted around his head as he quickened his pace, both of your hands behind you to hold you upright.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Fuck.

It’s like someone had drawn the curtains back on you both in this compromising position. You moved away first, shoving yourself back on the complimentary bench you weren’t sure how many others had done unholy things on, Taeyong shortly after, watching your face redden with every passing second.

Johnny continued. “This one’s a little small, sweetheart. I run larger than that, you know?” You could almost see him winking at her, smiling that god-awful smile that made every woman melt like putty under his gaze. As if on cue, she giggled.

Fuck. Him.

“Come here, baby.” You spoke softly, both hands unhooking your bra as you kneeled in front of Taeyong, shuffling closer so your tits pressed again his torso, clad in a compression shirt. He groaned. “Fuck.” He grabbed your face, kissing you deeply and pushing you down to the floor.

Thirty minutes later, you were in the passenger seat, the days shopping in various sized bags in the back. You were both silent, the radio playing some obscure song neither of you knew. With the windows down, the air still felt hot and heavy, pressing onto your skin. You played with the strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck, squinting as Taeyong turned a corner and the blaze of the mid-afternoon sun poured into your eyes.

“I ended up getting both.”

“Hmm?” Condensation slipped inside your palm as you played with the cold water bottle next to the gear shift.

“Both of the caps.”

“You bought caps? You have so many at home.” The answer felt involuntary, combined with the frustration of the hot weather and lack of food since brunch. He frowned, and you immediately felt guilty. “Sorry, I mean like-“

“You said you liked the black one. You were right there.”

You felt a deep shame somewhere buried inside you as you mentally flicked back to the moments in the dressing room. The plague was making you really sick now, making you notice things you didn’t need at all, and throwing out memories of things that you really did. “R-right. Sorry, hon. Didn’t mean to snap. It’s just so hot today.” You meant to chuckle, to lighten the mood, but your body could not go through with it. Instead, the both of you sat in uncomfortable silence.

The silence stretched on for agonising miles, as it usually did. Nowadays, when you weren’t having dry, stationery conversations, you were exploring each other’s bodies like it was what you were supposed to do as a couple. Not out of passion, or lust. Just because. Your eyes kept drifting closed, the will to keep them open slipping further away from your grasp. You just wanted to be in bed…alone, slipping through the mattress and into the floor, deeper, and deeper.

You finally woke with a jolt at the sound of the door close. Your makeup felt far too heavy on the skin of your face, the ache in your feet now screaming at you. “Baby, wait.” The phrase disappeared into the air unheard, but you stepped out of the car, right in the face of a camera.

“_, _!”

Shit. How did they find us?

“Are you here alone? Who drove you here? Tell us a bit about the man in your car…” You admired the man’s insistence at his job. His passion, however intrusive and idiotic, was majorly inspiring at this phrase of your life.

Shut the fuck up, you wanted to say. You kept a stern face instead, hoping your eyes would communicate that instead. “No thanks.” You side-stepped him strategically, a new throbbing in the left side of your temple starting to grow. Fuck, not again. You tried to breathe, in, out, in, out, but the rhythm caught in your throat, your vision began to grow blurry, and you stumbled uncomfortably in your sneakers that now felt like they weighed tons.

“Ma’am? Are you alright?” You heard the man’s keys before his footsteps, the sound of his camera flashing as he approached. The light was blinding, and you dropped to your knees as the flashing sounds continued, like gunfire on a field of soldiers.  

Who the fuck still used bright-ass flash?

“Who the fuck still uses flash!” It was a yell, from maybe about 10 metres away, but the ringing in your ears fogged it up like it was underwater. You tried to focus on your breathing, but your heart didn’t care about your wellbeing, apparently, speeding up at the sound of his voice. “Get away from her, right now.” The voice, still foggy, felt closer to you, and you felt an arm around your middle pulling you gently upwards. He whispered, “Okay, sweetheart, let’s get you out of here.”

Your pain spiked at the thought of the busy, lighted McDonalds as you walked away from the man with the flash camera, somehow on the floor of the car park now. “It needs to be dark, and quiet. It won’t stop unless it is.”

Johnny made a noise of sympathy. “I know, I remember.”

You only then registered the tears, wet on the heavy-set makeup on your face. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, a weird sense of guilt throbbing just as hard as your migraine deep in your gut. He was still walking you somewhere, and you just let him, no energy to care about anything other than the pain in your temples. He soothed you gently through whispers of something inaudible, but his breath felt warm and welcoming on your neck, and, despite it all, you were grateful for his presence.

“Go lie in the back, okay?” He shoved his jacket off as he spoke. “No cologne today. You can put it over your face. Don’t worry about anything.” You nodded, the familiar routine flooding back into you like water in on a dehydrated rock.   

Time passed like the way months pass in a busy year, and the next time you took a long, deep breath, you opened your eyes to the sensation of a firm, cold, king-sized bed. The room was dimly lit, enough so you could make out the outlines of the furniture in the room, but not bright enough to read anything if it was written on the walls. There was no lingering smell in the air, only the faint scent of your own shampoo, and no sound at all except the light ringing in your ears, much less strong than before. Your muscles relaxed like you were in a hot bath after a long day – safe, relaxed, nothing on your mind. You fell back asleep in seconds.

You woke what seemed like hours later. The room was significantly darker now, no more dusk light glowing from behind the curtains. The door was slightly ajar, and you registered voices this time coming from beyond.

“Why didn’t you just call me?”

“She was having a bad one. And, why would I have needed to call you?” You put on the slippers next to your bed without thinking, wrapping the robe you forgot you put on tight around your body. “You weren’t even there with her. What were you thinking?”

“Johnny, don’t. I stepped out to get something for her.”

“You should have known she would have the episode today. There are always signs.”

“You just said it was that asshole’s fault!”

You walked in the kitchen to see Johnny turned away, Taeyong at the end of the counter. When you met Taeyong’s eyes, you watched them widen as he stepped towards you. “Oh, honey.” You held him, his hand pressing the nape of your neck towards himself. “I was so worried. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you squeaked. As you pulled away, Taeyong pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling away to look into your eyes and stroke the sides of your face. “You look so tired, sweetie. I should have noticed.”

“Really, it’s fine, love.” You kissed him back, making awkward eye contact with Johnny towards the end. Shuffling awkwardly, you cleared your throat. “Um, we should get going.”

“No, you’re staying for dinner.” Johnny threw a towel over his shoulder in a way that was comical, almost making you laugh. You smiled, trying to ease the situation. “Johnny, really. I appreciate it, but-“

“There’s no way you both can drive all the way back to the apartment.” Your heart skipped as you heard him say the and not your. That one word gave you that illusion that time had stopped, and that the past 10 months had all been a dream, and you were still there, in the kitchen, pressed up against his body without a care.

You shook your head, willing the memories and coming back into reality all at the same time. “You can’t. You’ve just had your worst episode. No thanks to that grade A fucktard who doesn’t know how to use a camera in the 21st century.” He rolled his eyes. “Car trips will make you nauseous.”

“No! I mean,” you rubbed your head. “Me and Taeyong, we have this, um, this event…” You knew it was a weak argument, but you threw it out anyway. When you looked over at Taeyong, he was, of course, shaking his head. “I’m sure Jaehyun won’t mind. It’s the album release party.” He looked over to Johnny, who nodded politely.

“You can still go. Just drop me off at home.”

“Nonsense, _. You spend the night here.” You and Taeyong both looked at each other, you with an expression of clear distaste, and Taeyong with something a bit less than that. “I mean…didn’t you say you had a thing?”

“Yeah, I mean, she’s not a kid. She can stay by herself. Call us if you need anything. But she shouldn’t get into the car.” Taeyong hummed in agreement as Johnny walked towards the both of you, and you looked at the both of them incredulously. “Did you both just decide on plans without me?” You crossed your arms. “Unbelievable.” It came of surprisingly playful, making them both laugh, Johnny now sizing you up with his eyes like he always did. “You like the robe?”

“Y-yeah.” For a second you were too comfortable, looking right into Johnny’s eyes, wanting more than anything to be in his arms. Your body, your mind, this house…you were there, 10 months ago, back when it was all okay, it was right. Forgetting that Taeyong was right here, staring at you back, wishing you were here right now.

“You gonna be okay here, baby?” Taeyong brought your hands into his, pulling you close as Johnny walked away. You nodded, smiling up at him with passion in your heart for the first time in what felt like too long. The guilt started throbbing in your gut again, but you grabbed his face in your hands, kissing him deeply until you felt it ebbing away.

∞

“Shh. You need to be quiet. My niece is here.”

That was the sentence that rang like alarm bells in your brain. At first, your entire body tensed up, the unfamiliar surroundings making you confused. Memories of the day came back, and you relaxed a little, finally registering what was going on.

The sounds of a woman giggling and going shh in an exaggerated tone made you feel like someone threw all your emotions in a blender. Annoyance, confusion, anger, sadness, lust…it all swirled and mixed intentionally, blades cutting through each one at lightning speed.

Both of their bodies thumped upstairs, and it wasn’t long before she started moaning like a pornstar.

Your. Fucking. Niece. Is. Here??

You made a face of disgust at nobody as the noises continued. “If I was your niece, I would be reporting you to CPS.” You slammed back into bed, momentarily delighted that the painful throbs in your brain were gone far enough that you could throw yourself around easily. You pushed a pillow on top of your face, as if you were in a teen movie and you needed to throw a tantrum. At the third Oh, harder! girlish squeal that you heard, you were ready to go through with it.

Instead, your brain decided to flash through memories of yourself and Johnny. Back when you weren’t his fake niece, and instead the giggly drunk girl he would take upstairs to fuck the living daylights out of.

Fuck. Why am I thinking about this? You were stretching your arm uncomfortably out, too lazy to get out of bed to reach your phone, thinking about calling Taeyong to distract yourself or to come get you when the noises upstairs stopped.

“FUCK YOU!”

It was so loud it made you jump.

You heard the deep tenor of Johnny’s voice in the background, before her higher-pitched one cut through the air. “Fucking asshole!” You heard thumps of footsteps, much quicker and lighter than before, and sounds of zippers being pulled. When they stopped close to the door of your room, which was still slightly ajar, you kept thinking shit. There was no way you could pretend you were asleep this entire time anymore.

“Give me your fucking car keys. I’m leaving right now.”

“Look, I-“

“Do you even remember my name?” The small but significant silence that followed was so intentionally on point that you couldn’t help but snigger, covering your mouth with your palm to remain quiet.

When you heard the door slam, you lay properly in bed, still going with the plan that you were gonna pretend you somehow slept through that. As if like a badly-scripted TV show, the door to your room opened as you tried to tuck yourself in, not quick enough to avoid Johnny at the door.

“Oh, hey.” For some reason, everything was immediately extremely funny, and it was like trying to guide an elephant going estray, the way everything in you was trying not to burst out laughing.

“Sorry about the noise.”

“It’s fine.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I was awake anyway. Migraine’s pretty much gone.” You gestured awkwardly to your head, reaching out to grab your phone now properly. “I think Taeyong’s ready to pick me up now.” You turned the screen on as you said this, as if you just read texts from him. In reality, your phone was dry and empty, the lockscreen of you and Taeyong making a heart at the beach last summer glaring back at you in the dark. “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“No trouble.” He walked into the room, door now fully open. You crossed your legs on the bed, not knowing what to say or how to act, not knowing why he was now silently looking over the dresser in the room to your left.

“I said your name.”

Your blood froze, body reacting before your brain. You sputtered, “I, uh, what?”

He opened his mouth to reply, now fully turned towards you, but you brought a finger to your own lips. “That’s okay. Don’t need to explain, Johnny. I, just, why would you say that?” The last part refused to remain a thought in your heard, instead spilling out of you in words drenched in emotional blender soup.

“You just said you don’t need an explanation.”

“Ugh, Johnny,” you rubbed your temples, not because of an incoming migraine, but in a more dramatic, single mom in a bad murder mystery novel kind of way. “You always do this. You know what I mean.”

When you looked up, his eyes were softer than you thought. He looked…vulnerable, and lost. He had the other end of that string that you held onto as you slipped deeper into the quicksand, standing there, looking like only one who could pull you out.

He walked closer to you, and your body did not move away. He got close enough to sit on the edge of the bed, slouched over, and you dragged your legs over to sit next to him. “I’m your fucking niece?” You laughed easily now, and you watched his body vibrate as his body copied yours. “It was the only thing I could think of in the moment, okay?” His smile made your body feel electric, like you could conquer anything in that moment. And for a moment, you surrendered to the notion that it was exactly 10 months ago, on the precipice of the moment it all fell apart.

Why did you break up with me? You wanted so desperately to say, your voice coarse from screaming it in your mind for hours every day. But instead, you answered his measured attempts to keep a light conversation.

“You had any migraine this bad in a while?”

“No.” you shook your head, now tucking your legs in underneath you to lean on the bedframe, his body turning to face you as you did. “Been seeing a new physician. She’s much better.”

“Oh yeah? Finally dumped Dr Misogyny?”

“Uh huh. I figured I didn’t need someone who kept trying to convince me I was overreacting and being hysterical.”

“Mmm. Good on you, sweetheart.” Even though you knew how easily Johnny threw endearing terms around, your stomach still flipped violently at his reply, and you gulped.

“Taeyong’s been good too. He’s sleeping a lot better. Not working too late anymore.”

“That’s good.” Johnny readjusted on the bed, inching closer towards you. “He works way too hard. As do you.”

“Johnny…” Your voice ever so slightly caught in your throat, and it was noticeable enough for him to catch. You mentally cursed, but that’s when something in you went fuck it, and you went in straight for the kill.

“Why did you leave me…us?” Your voice shook, no matter how strongly you willed it not too, and the last word came out like a forbidden whisper.

He looked directly into your eyes, as if he was relieved that you asked him, like he’d been holding onto the response for the past 10 months. “I…I regretted it every single day.”

“Then you should have fucking told me.” You sucked in a breath. “You could have said anything to me, and I would have come running. I trust you, I…I love you.” Every breath felt painful as you let your confession hang in the air dangerously. “You know that.”

“I know, _.”

Before you could even let yourself process the moment, you leant over and kissed him. The guilt throbbing in your gut exploded like a small fire as it catches on to grow endlessly large and overwhelming. He grabbed your body, lifting you to rest on his lap, your kisses growing feverish with heat.

When you pulled away, you opened your eyes to come to your senses. “N-no, we shouldn’t.”

“Stop that.” He whispered against the skin of your neck. “You know he wouldn’t care.”

“That’s the problem. We need to do this properly.”

“You know why we can’t do that.”

“I don’t, Johnny. I don’t know why we can’t.” You began to argue with him, but he shut you up by hoisting your upper body further and further up, biting and sucking the skin down the base of your neck, collarbone, and between your breasts. Your arms latched onto his muscular shoulders as you rocked naturally on his lap. “God, fuck you, Johnny.” He chuckled against your clothed torso.

“Give me a second.” He pushed you gently backwards, rising up on his knees to let you watch as he pulled his shirt off with one hand. He fell on top of you in one fell swoop, kissing you between the cages of his muscular arms. His body rolled onto yours, making you gasp. “Johnny, I-“

“I know. Just let me. Okay?”

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I am still very confused. When I needed to use a food pantry, their public website listed the documents that we needed to bring to verify eligibility. Is it considered unethical for them to have done that on a page visible to people not applying for food? I am having trouble understanding how having a list of requirements to verify eligibility that is publicly viewable is harmful to recipients. I don’t understand how m, for example, someone outside the food pantry knowing that clients are expected to bring identification, proof of residence, and proof of income is harmful to me.

I’m probably misunderstanding something

Food banks ARE considered unethical when they means test, yes. And most food banks only do so in letter, not in spirit for that reason. Everyone in aid work is aware that forcing recipients to "prove need" [even just to staff] is a massive barrier to effective resource distribution, which is why the food banks in my town keep off-record bags of supplies for people they can't document in their formal records or give funded supplies to. I have NEVER walked away from a food bank empty handed, even times when I showed up without documentation or explicitly endorsing criteria we both knew would exclude me from official supplies. Many food banks are required by state law [against all in-field policy recommendations and field research mind you] to means test anyway, and that is an acknowledged and discussed barrier.

You may notice, as time goes on, a greater shift AWAY from food banks and TOWARDS food fridges over the next few years for exactly this reason. Food banks are anonymous to access (standing refrigerated pantries that are not monitored except for restock and sanitation needs), do not means test, and do include ANY eliminating criteria for "right to use". These programs tend to report SUBSTANTIALLY lower food insecurity lingering after implementation than your more traditional food bank.

Essentially, the law and the populas repeatedly require aid organizations to engage in unethical and ineffective recipient dynamics, not because they are acceptable, but because they are mechanisms of control. They control who is allowed a safety net, and allow socio-political bias and prejudice to exist in the gaps with full plausible deniability, replicating and reinforcing the very factors that create resource scarcity/insecurity in the first place. For generations now aid workers have been carefully picking away at the idea that means testing is ANYTHING but harmful and it is truly not something I will tolerate being reinforced by people who want to position themselves as functionally progressive.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: Y/n is part of the avengers, but her whole world changes when she is sent away for special training with the infamous Scarlet Witch. She focuses on the mission, but doesn't expect to fall in love on the way.

content warnings: Mary being a shitty dominant for like 1,000 words

word count: 4.3k

Series Masterlist

Being a part of the avengers was for the most part, easy. At least for y/n it was. Her tasks mainly consisted of watching from the shadows with Natasha while the flashy team members - as Tony liked to call them - fought their way through a situation. Once most of the “bad guys who use cheap cologne” as Tony says, were incapacitated, Natasha and y/n would make their way into the heart of whatever building their target was in, and Natasha would take care of any final bosses while y/n focused on getting vital information from the hard drive system. 

Many would assume that y/n was just a nerd who helped hack into their targets systems, which, to be fair, is true. This created a net of safety for y/n, who had been in the red room with Natasha and escaped with her. She had all of the necessary skills of a black widow and often trained with the rest of the team, but she much preferred to stay in the shadows. Unfortunately, her lack of exposure to the public made her the perfect candidate for Fury’s next project. 

“What do you mean I have to Go AwAy for the summer?” y/n spoke with a tremor in her voice. The rest of the team who were seated around their main debriefing table quickly grew silent as they watched a staring match go down between Director Fury and y/n. 

Natasha was watching y/n and saw the way her jaw clenched and her fingers gripped the sides of her chair. The redhead knew that y/n was well on her way to getting angry, which could be very bad for the rest of the members in the room. 

Director Fury stood up, ignoring Natashas warning glare, and spoke loudly to the whole team. 

“I am sending y/n away for the summer for some special training, and she is the only member of this team who needs this training.” He finished and glanced over at y/n who had suddenly gone very still. She needed to process this new information, but it was very difficult to do that in a room full of people looking at her and watching her every move. 

“And why is y/n the only member of this team who needs this training, what will her tasks after this summer be?” Steve spoke quietly, always the mediator, and directed his question to Fury. The director's shoulders slumped slightly, but Natasha and y/n noticed. His eyes darted to the side quickly before he responded.

“Y/n is the only Avenger that hasn’t been exposed to the public eye, and based on the files she secured on our latest trip, we are now aware of a large and very exclusive sex trafficking ring somewhere on the south coast.” He sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before continuing. 

“In order to successfully take down this ring, we need someone who won’t be recognized and can prove to the leaders of this operation that she can be trusted.” Fury’s eyes darted to the side once more before he nodded his head once and wearily sat down. 

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, as did y/n’s. Natasha glanced over at her friend, who she guessed already knew what the Director was hinting at based on the tightness of her shoulders and the way her hands were folded tightly in her lap. Natasha also knew that the rest of the team hadn’t read between the lines like they had, so she looked Fury in the eyes and asked, “And what type of training exactly does y/n need, since we all know what she’s capable of.” 

Fury just stared back with a defeated look in his eyes, glancing once more at y/n before pursing his lips and slowly started explaining, “This is beyond my control, and what the Board feels is best for this sensitive situation.” He trailed off looking around at the rest of the team. 

“Damn it Fury just tell us what type of special training y/n needs already.” Tony growled, wanting this meeting to be over and already planning on making hot chocolate with y/n and letting her rant about the situation with him. 

The rest of the team looked expectantly over at the Director who slumped a bit in his chair. He cleared his throat then with a steady voice finished his explanation. “Y/n will be trained in the art of seduction, different from what she already learned in the red room,” he sharply said as he held his hand up to Natasha who had opened her mouth to speak. She sat back and gestured at him to finish.

“The whole ring is run by a group of men who, after researching them, and self-proclaimed dominants, run their ring through the help of submissives, and train their victims to become submissives as well.” Fury takes a deep breath and then continues, looking straight into y/n’s brown eyes.

“Y/n will be trained by a dominant over at an ethical business run by a dominatrix known as the Scarlet Witch. Her facility trains submissives for a large community of dominants over on the west coast. However, her facility is based around consent from all participants, as the BDSM scene over there is very large.” He speaks the last line quickly then gets to his feet, making his way over to y/n. 

Bending down slightly, he puts a gentle hand on y/n’s shoulder turning her towards him. She stares back at him with determination in her eyes.

“You understand why you are the only one who can complete this mission, and take down this group from the inside?” He questions, his eyes full of promise.

She looks around the table at her team who all wear different expressions, her eyes catching Natasha’s worried ones, then looks at Fury with a raised chin.

“I accept.”

---

Once Director Fury had closed the meeting and sweeped out of the room, the rest of the team slowly started filtering out. Y/n stayed in her chair and stared at the table. A million thoughts raced through her head.

‘Should I have publicly exposed myself like Natasha? Wait no, if I had done that this mission would have been a failure. But why me? I’m happy being the nerd behind the scenes. Well… am I actually? Maybe this will be fun, I’ll finally get laid. No! Stop it, that's not helpful right now.’

Y/n was shaken out of her thoughts by a hand resting on her knee. She looked up to find Natasha’s concerned eyes on hers. Tony was standing right behind her with a boyish grin on his face.

“What do you say champ, wanna make some hot chocolate with us and gossip about how bad Fury’s wardrobe is?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and the corner of Natasha’s mouth turned up. 

Y/n laughed, her shoulders shaking as she stood up and placed a hand on both of their shoulders. 

“I would love nothing more” she said as her laughter died down, still amused at Tony’s quip. All her thoughts about the mission were pushed to the back of her mind in anticipation of a good gossip session with her two favorite people.

Natasha stood as well, turning to face Tony with one eyebrow raised. “Maybe we’ll make it a girls night, paint our nails and everything.” She said passionately before walking out the door. 

“If she thinks that scares me off, she's dead wrong,” Tony’s face morphed into a mischievous smirk as he popped one hip out, “I think I would look wonderful with baby blue nails”.

Y/n’s laughter started up again and she gripped Tony’s arm for support. She said in between gasps, “I think you’ll look fabulous with baby blue eyeshadow too.” And only laughed harder when Tony’s smirk turned into a pained sort of grimace.

They started to make their way up to the kitchen with y/n still laughing occasionally, where they could hear Natasha getting mugs out for hot chocolate. Right before the door of the kitchen, Tony grabbed y/n’s arm and gently turned her to face him.

“Just so you know kid, if you do want to talk about the mission or your upcoming summer, Natasha and I are always ready to listen.” He said earnestly with a small smile on his face.

“Thanks Tony” y/n said, gently dislodging herself from his grip and patting his arm, “I don’t think I’m quite ready to talk yet but once I am, we’ll totally have another girls night and do face masks while I tell you all of my deepest fears.” 

She said the last part jokingly, but knew that Tony got the message, once she was ready to talk she would come straight to him or Natasha. 

“Sounds good kid, now let's go see who can cover Natasha in more whipped cream” He smirked and rushed inside the kitchen.

Y/n just scoffed and walked inside as soon as she heard Tony’s yelp of surprise, enjoying the sight of Natasha with a whipped cream bottle in her hand and Tony with a new creamy hair-do. 

Nathasha leaned in close to Tony as y/n grabbed another bottle of whipped cream from the counter. 

“Never try to outdo an assassin buddy.” She smirked and smushed some more of the whipped cream into his perfectly gelled hair and y/n started shaking her bottle in preparation for the all out whipped cream fight. 

These two were the best friends she had, and she was going to make the most of it until summer came.

___

Once y/n had debriefed with Fury on her training for the summer, the last three weeks had gone by quickly. She continued to train with the team, and read through the numerous files the Avengers had on the infamous Scarlet Witch's business. Nobody knew much about her, except that her name was Wanda Maximoff and she was the youngest dominatrix to ever run the business, which y/n fact checked, was in fact run ethically. 

There were multiple positive reviews in BDSM chat rooms about the facility where the Scarlet Witch and her team trained the submissives, and the classes that were taught about the BDSM community through her business. Wanda also owned many smaller scale buildings which she had converted into playrooms for members of the community, and would often host parties or informational events at them. 

Throughout all of her research, y/n had grown to respect the woman and her nervousness about the summer had faded into a dull thrum instead of the heart racing fear she felt when Fury debriefed her. 

Not to say that she hadn’t freaked out of course, she kept her promise to Tony and during one of their “girl’s nights” Natasha and Tony had held her as she cried and stressed about the mission. She later apologized for getting mascara all over Tony’s newest Gucci shirt, but he waved her off and stated that some things were more important than his clothes.

Her biggest worry was that she wouldn’t be able to complete the training successfully and the whole mission would fail. Natasha reminded her that the whole mission wasn’t completely on her shoulders, and Tony had talked her through the logistics of infiltrating the facility on the south coast, which helped her realize that her whole team was behind her. 

Fury had made it sound like she was going in single handed, but her part was just getting inside the facility and getting close to the leaders, then sending all the information on their main database to the Avengers, and they would take it from there.  

All of her preparation throughout the spring had led her to this moment. The summer had finally arrived and she had packed one duffel bag with everything she needed inside it. Fury had got in contact with a dominatrix on the west coast who agreed to lead y/n through the training she would need at the facility. 

Y/n stood on the roof of the Avengers compound waiting for the helicopter to take her over to the airport for her flight. She nervously picked a thread on her shirt while mentally running through everything she had researched. The sound of footsteps on gravel made her turn around and see Natasha in a pair of big sunglasses with a sheathed knife in her hand.

“I know you already have multiple knives, but I wanted you to be able to take a part of us with you.” Natasha held her hand up before y/n could speak and handed her the knife. 

Y/n slowly pulled the blade out and saw both the Iron Man and Black Widow logos engraved on the blade, with the Avengers logo closest to the handle. She slid the knife back in its sheath and put it in a side compartment of her bag before throwing her arms around Natasha.

“I’ll be okay,” y/n mumbled into the spy’s ear, feeling her arms tighten around her waist. “It’s only one summer and I’ll be back before you know it.” 

Natasha let out a wet-sounding laugh before clearing her throat and murmuring, “We’ll miss you on girls night, I think Tony wants to try hot pink on his nails next.”

Y/n laughed and broke the hug, seeing unshed tears in her friends eyes as Natasha raised her sunglasses to wipe at them. She smiled softly and went to say something else, but the drone of helicopter blades drowned out her voice.

Natasha simply squeezed her hand and stepped back with her shades firmly on her face, while y/n shouldered her bag and squinted her eyes against the dust that the helicopter had kicked up. She glanced back and waved before stepping into the aircraft. Once inside, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come, knowing her day would only be hectic once she arrived in California.

---

The plane touched ground with a jolt, the sound of wheels on the asphalt waking y/n from her sleep. She blinked her eyes open while looking around at the other passengers starting to unbuckle from their seats. She waited quietly in her seat while looking out the window at the sun setting. She could see the waves coming up from the pavement in the dry heat and was very glad she was wearing a t-shirt instead of a hoodie like she had originally planned. 

Once most of the other passengers were off the plane she stood up and stretched, getting rid of the last bit of tiredness from her body, before grabbing her duffel from the overhead bin and making her way off the plane. 

Once in the airport, y/n made her way down to the drop off point labeled G, where her dominatrix for the summer would be waiting. She subconsciously straightened her shirt and ran her fingers through her hair, wanting to make the best impression on her new host. Luckily, Fury had sent her a picture of her host, a woman with short blonde hair and a stern expression on her face. 

Once she reached the checkpoint, y/n immediately saw her host, and straightened her back before walking up to her. The woman looked her up and down with a critical eye, before thrusting her hand out in greeting. 

“My name is Mary, and I’ll be hosting you for the summer, but don’t think that you’ll have special privileges from me or the facility just because you’re an Avenger.” She stated, her eyes hard and grip still firm in y/n’s hand.

Y/n simply nodded before pulling away, “I understand ma’am, I don’t expect or want you to treat me differently from past submissives you have worked with.” She kept her voice steady and professional, but internally screamed ‘What the actual fuck??’ 

Already this woman was a walking red flag, based on what y/n had read about how dominants were supposed to present themselves and act with submissives. Respect was a key component to ensuring that a dom/sub relationship was successful, and this woman had just thrown that idea out the window. 

Now a bit more cautious towards her new host, y/n respectively followed a half step behind Mary while glaring at the back of her head as she walked her to an all black SUV, listening as she spoke the whole way.

“First rule, you may call me ma’am or mistress, whichever you prefer, but never my name. Second rule, don’t speak unless spoken to as all good submissives stay quiet and respectful when around other dominants, if you need to speak you must ask me first.”

Mary took in a deep breath, glancing back at y/n, who showed nothing of her internal thoughts on her face. She turned back around and opened the backseat door to the SUV and gestured towards it.

“We’re already late, so I’ll go over the rules on the drive over” Mary stated as she started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. 

Y/n didn’t know how she was meant to ask to speak if she couldn’t speak to ask, so she simply caught Mary’s eye in the mirror and gestured towards her lips.

Mary sighed but waved at her to go ahead, eyes firmly on the road and lips pursed.

“What are we late to?” Y/n inquired, thoughts racing with the new rules and doubts about her host, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible. 

Mary’s face tightened as she glanced at y/n in the mirror, “It’s an event hosted by the Scarlet Witch, and she’ll be there tonight so be on your best behavior.” She finished her sentence with a pointed look at y/n and turned her eyes back to the road.

Y/n looked out the window and listened as Mary explained each of her rules, but mainly thought about the upcoming event and the possibility of meeting the infamous woman that evening. She tuned back into Mary’s droning voice once the woman asked if she understood all of the rules.

“Yes ma’am, I do. I’ll be on my best behavior tonight.” Y/n looked at Mary with a picture of innocence on her face, letting a small smile grace her features as her host parked in front of a castle-like building.

Wait, no. It was a castle.

A small one at that but still a castle, and the only thing y/n could think was ‘How rich is this lady, should I be running my own business too? Maybe I can ask her for business tips.’

She shook her head to get rid of her entrepreneurial thoughts and once again walked behind Mary as they ascended the steps to the main entrance. They stood in line as y/n glanced ahead and saw some people at the entrance with metal detectors and a queue line to a set of tables in the main hall.

The line moved quickly, and once they made it past the metal detectors Mary put her mouth close to y/n’s ear and whispered harshly, “If anything goes wrong tonight, the punishment will not be pleasant.” And pulled back with one eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face. 

Y/n simply nodded, her heart thudding at the possibility that she would mess something up. Hell, she probably would mess up, and Mary would jump on it just to get the chance to punish her. 

Once they reached the tables, Mary started filling out some forms about who they were and what their relationship was, and y/n took the opportunity to look around the main hall. 

It was massive, and also beautiful. There were three giant silver chandeliers with candles across the ceiling, and tastefully decorated walls with windows stretching throughout the whole hall. Y/n recognized some of the paintings on the walls and choked as she realized how expensive the decorations must be.

Turning her attention away from the interior design, she watched servers flit from table to table, offering small snacks and glasses of champagne. She saw multiple pairs, and could tell who was the dominant in the pair almost immediately. But, with other couples she couldn’t tell right away. Some people were kneeling at the feet of others, while some couples sat together and talked with others. 

Y/n felt a stab of victory go through her at the sight, knowing that not all pairings were as extreme as Mary had made their summer relationship out to be. All she had to do now was convince her to lesson up on her tight hold of the reins.

Dragging her eyes towards the front of the hall, her breath stuttered as she saw the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Y/n had seen a couple of pictures of the Scarlet Witch, but in person the woman looked almost majestic. She was standing in the center of a slightly raised stage with her hands behind her back, her posture loose but her eyes sharp. Her auburn hair was falling in loose curves around her shoulders and her outfit looked to be straight out of a fashion magazine. 

Y/n gazed up at her, slowly dragging her eyes up from her boots, to the belt at her waist and past her chest until she reached her face. Y/n froze as she met the Scarlet Witch’s gaze. She felt her cheeks heat up and her breath become shallower as she fought to keep her composure with those eyes on her.

And what majestic eyes they were, bright green and staring directly into her soul. She could see the small crinkle at the edges of her eyes and the soft smile that graced her wonderful features. Her eyes seemed to be searching y/n’s, and she hoped desperately that she had found what she was looking for. 

Y/n blinked suddenly as she felt Mary shift beside her, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from the imposing figure on the stage to look at her host. Feeling the loss of those wonderful eyes on her. 

Mary looked at y/n with a small smirk on her face as she held up a piece of leather. The man behind the table gestured at her to go ahead and y/n watched as Mary’s hand slowly revealed the object.

It was a collar.

A fucking collar.

“Oh hell no,” y/n said, pushing down on Mary’s wrist, noticing the way her eyes hardened and her mouth became a small line. The woman went to speak but y/n stepped back and raised her voice slightly. 

“I never fucking agreed to wear that Mary, you have no right.” She hissed at the woman in front of her, her hands becoming tight fists at her side. 

The man behind the table gestured to two men behind y/n and she panicked as she felt them take a hold of her upper arms. She knew she could take them down, but she didn’t want anyone to question how she had gained that particular skill set. 

Instead, she stood still with her heart pounding and vision becoming blurry as she felt her anger and frustration at the situation swell up. Mary was once again smirking, and y/n wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off, preferably with a strong right hook.

“Now honey,” Mary started with a sickly sweet voice, “Remember our talk in the car, you did agree now didn’t you.” She finished with a raise of her eyebrows as her hands started to raise the collar towards y/n’s neck. 

Just before y/n felt the cool leather around her neck Mary faltered, and her eyes glanced over y/n’s right shoulder. Her expression turned from victory to worry in a matter of seconds, and all y/n would sense was the smell of vanilla and a cool yet comforting hand on her forearm. 

“It seems, Mary, that you are creating problems once again.” A soft melodic voice reached y/n’s ears and the woman she was staring at earlier came into her view. The Scarlet Witch's eyes were hard as she glared at y/n’s host. 

“Perhaps we should speak more privately?” The woman asked, but her expression told y/n that she was giving an order.

The two men behind her released her arms, but the comforting hand stayed on her forearm, and as Mary gulped and shoved the collar back into her pocket, the Scarlet Witch turned to y/n and her eyes softened. 

“Follow” was all she said before glancing dismissively at Mary and guiding y/n towards a door near the stage. The hand that was previously on her forearm now rests lightly on the small of her back. 

All of y/n’s anger was quickly dissipated as the comforting figure smelling of vanilla and looking like a goddess led her to a small room with two couches and a mini fridge. The woman turned to y/n with a small smile on her face and leaned in to whisper, “You won’t have to stay in her care for long” before pulling back and staring once more at Mary.

At the feeling of the woman's lips so close to her ear, y/n shivered and valiantly tried to suppress the very detailed thoughts that had been surfacing. 

‘Now is not the time for this, keep it in your pants for like ten more minutes.’ She admonished herself, fighting to keep her breath steady and her blush from rising.

As the blonde woman sat down meekly on the couch and the Scarlet Witch moved over to the mini fridge to grab some water, y/n stayed near her spot at the door, as always ready to make a quick escape. 

The red haired woman turned to y/n with a question in her eyes and glanced at the couch, and after noticing that y/n didn’t seem much inclined to sit down she simply nodded and took a seat. 

The woman took a deep breath, sitting regally on the couch as she stared hard into Mary’s eyes. “We have much to discuss.”

Y/n shivered again.

Next Chapter

[dailyanarchistposts]

F.3.1 Why is this disregard for equality important?

Simply because a disregard for equality soon ends with liberty for the majority being negated in many important ways. Most “anarcho”-capitalists and right-Libertarians deny (or at best ignore) market power. Rothbard, for example, claims that economic power does not exist under capitalism; what people call “economic power” is “simply the right under freedom to refuse to make an exchange” and so the concept is meaningless. [The Ethics of Liberty, p. 222]

However, the fact is that there are substantial power centres in society (and so are the source of hierarchical power and authoritarian social relations) which are not the state. As Elisee Reclus put it, the “power of kings and emperors has limits, but that of wealth has none at all. The dollar is the master of masters.” Thus wealth is a source of power as “the essential thing” under capitalism “is to train oneself to pursue monetary gain, with the goal of commanding others by means of the omnipotence of money. One’s power increases in direct proportion to one’s economic resources.” [quoted by John P. Clark and Camille Martin (eds.), Anarchy, Geography, Modernity, p. 95 and pp. 96–7] Thus the central fallacy of “anarcho”-capitalism is the (unstated) assumption that the various actors within an economy have relatively equal power. This assumption has been noted by many readers of their works. For example, Peter Marshall notes that ”‘anarcho-capitalists’ like Murray Rothbard assume individuals would have equal bargaining power in a [capitalist] market-based society.” [Demanding the Impossible, p. 46] George Walford also makes this point in his comments on David Friedman’s The Machinery of Freedom:

“The private ownership envisaged by the anarcho-capitalists would be very different from that which we know. It is hardly going too far to say that while the one is nasty, the other would be nice. In anarcho-capitalism there would be no National Insurance, no Social Security, no National Health Service and not even anything corresponding to the Poor Laws; there would be no public safety-nets at all. It would be a rigorously competitive society: work, beg or die. But as one reads on, learning that each individual would have to buy, personally, all goods and services needed, not only food, clothing and shelter but also education, medicine, sanitation, justice, police, all forms of security and insurance, even permission to use the streets (for these also would be privately owned), as one reads about all this a curious feature emerges: everybody always has enough money to buy all these things. “There are no public casualty wards or hospitals or hospices, but neither is there anybody dying in the streets. There is no public educational system but no uneducated children, no public police service but nobody unable to buy the services of an efficient security firm, no public law but nobody unable to buy the use of a private legal system. Neither is there anybody able to buy much more than anybody else; no person or group possesses economic power over others. “No explanation is offered. The anarcho-capitalists simply take it for granted that in their favoured society, although it possesses no machinery for restraining competition (for this would need to exercise authority over the competitors and it is an anarcho-capitalist society) competition would not be carried to the point where anybody actually suffered from it. While proclaiming their system to be a competitive one, in which private interest rules unchecked, they show it operating as a co-operative one, in which no person or group profits at the cost of another.” [On the Capitalist Anarchists]

This assumption of (relative) equality comes to the fore in Murray Rothbard’s “Homesteading” concept of property (discussed in section F.4.1). “Homesteading” paints a picture of individuals and families going into the wilderness to make a home for themselves, fighting against the elements and so forth. It does not invoke the idea of transnational corporations employing tens of thousands of people or a population without land, resources and selling their labour to others. Rothbard as noted argued that economic power does not exist (at least under capitalism, as we saw in section F.1 he does make — highly illogical — exceptions). Similarly, David Friedman’s example of a pro-death penalty and anti-death penalty “defence” firm coming to an agreement (see section F.6.3) implicitly assumes that the firms have equal bargaining powers and resources — if not, then the bargaining process would be very one-sided and the smaller company would think twice before taking on the larger one in battle (the likely outcome if they cannot come to an agreement on this issue) and so compromise.

However, the right-“libertarian” denial of market power is unsurprising. The “necessity, not the redundancy, of the assumption about natural equality is required “if the inherent problems of contract theory are not to become too obvious.” If some individuals are assumed to have significantly more power are more capable than others, and if they are always self-interested, then a contract that creates equal partners is impossible — the pact will establish an association of masters and servants. Needless to say, the strong will present the contract as being to the advantage of both: the strong no longer have to labour (and become rich, i.e. even stronger) and the weak receive an income and so do not starve. [Carole Pateman, The Sexual Contract, p. 61] So if freedom is considered as a function of ownership then it is very clear that individuals lacking property (outside their own body, of course) lose effective control over their own person and labour (which was, least we forget, the basis of their equal natural rights). When ones bargaining power is weak (which is typically the case in the labour market) exchanges tend to magnify inequalities of wealth and power over time rather than working towards an equalisation.

In other words, “contract” need not replace power if the bargaining position and wealth of the would-be contractors are not equal (for, if the bargainers had equal power it is doubtful they would agree to sell control of their liberty/labour to another). This means that “power” and “market” are not antithetical terms. While, in an abstract sense, all market relations are voluntary in practice this is not the case within a capitalist market. A large company has a comparative advantage over smaller ones, communities and individual workers which will definitely shape the outcome of any contract. For example, a large company or rich person will have access to more funds and so stretch out litigations and strikes until their opponents resources are exhausted. Or, if a company is polluting the environment, the local community may put up with the damage caused out of fear that the industry (which it depends upon) would relocate to another area. If members of the community did sue, then the company would be merely exercising its property rights when it threatened to move to another location. In such circumstances, the community would “freely” consent to its conditions or face massive economic and social disruption. And, similarly, “the landlords’ agents who threatened to discharge agricultural workers and tenants who failed to vote the reactionary ticket” in the 1936 Spanish election were just exercising their legitimate property rights when they threatened working people and their families with economic uncertainty and distress. [Murray Bookchin, The Spanish Anarchists, p. 260]

If we take the labour market, it is clear that the “buyers” and “sellers” of labour power are rarely on an equal footing (if they were, then capitalism would soon go into crisis — see section C.7). As we stressed in section C.9, under capitalism competition in labour markets is typically skewed in favour of employers. Thus the ability to refuse an exchange weighs most heavily on one class than another and so ensures that “free exchange” works to ensure the domination (and so exploitation) of one by the other. Inequality in the market ensures that the decisions of the majority of people within it are shaped in accordance with that needs of the powerful, not the needs of all. It was for this reason, for example, that the Individual Anarchist J.K. Ingalls opposed Henry George’s proposal of nationalising the land. Ingalls was well aware that the rich could outbid the poor for leases on land and so the dispossession of the working class would continue.

The market, therefore, does not end power or unfreedom — they are still there, but in different forms. And for an exchange to be truly voluntary, both parties must have equal power to accept, reject, or influence its terms. Unfortunately, these conditions are rarely meet on the labour market or within the capitalist market in general. Thus Rothbard’s argument that economic power does not exist fails to acknowledge that the rich can out-bid the poor for resources and that a corporation generally has greater ability to refuse a contract (with an individual, union or community) than vice versa (and that the impact of such a refusal is such that it will encourage the others involved to compromise far sooner). In such circumstances, formally free individuals will have to “consent” to be unfree in order to survive. Looking at the tread-mill of modern capitalism, at what we end up tolerating for the sake of earning enough money to survive it comes as no surprise that anarchists have asked whether the market is serving us or are we serving it (and, of course, those who have positions of power within it).

So inequality cannot be easily dismissed. As Max Stirner pointed out, free competition “is not ‘free,’ because I lack the things for competition.” Due to this basic inequality of wealth (of “things”) we find that ”[u]nder the regime of the commonality the labourers always fall into the hands of the possessors … of the capitalists, therefore. The labourer cannot realise on his labour to the extent of the value that it has for the customer … The capitalist has the greatest profit from it.” [The Ego and Its Own, p. 262 and p. 115] It is interesting to note that even Stirner recognised that capitalism results in exploitation and that its roots lie in inequalities in property and so power. And we may add that value the labourer does not “realise” goes into the hands of the capitalists, who invest it in more “things” and which consolidates and increases their advantage in “free” competition. To quote Stephan L. Newman:

“Another disquieting aspect of the libertarians’ refusal to acknowledge power in the market is their failure to confront the tension between freedom and autonomy… Wage labour under capitalism is, of course, formally free labour. No one is forced to work at gun point. Economic circumstance, however, often has the effect of force; it compels the relatively poor to accept work under conditions dictated by owners and managers. The individual worker retains freedom [i.e. negative liberty] but loses autonomy [positive liberty].” [Liberalism at Wit’s End, pp. 122–123]

If we consider “equality before the law” it is obvious that this also has limitations in an (materially) unequal society. Brian Morris notes that for Ayn Rand, ”[u]nder capitalism … politics (state) and economics (capitalism) are separated … This, of course, is pure ideology, for Rand’s justification of the state is that it ‘protects’ private property, that is, it supports and upholds the economic power of capitalists by coercive means.” [Ecology & Anarchism, p. 189] The same can be said of “anarcho”-capitalism and its “protection agencies” and “general libertarian law code.” If within a society a few own all the resources and the majority are dispossessed, then any law code which protects private property automatically empowers the owning class. Workers will always be initiating force if they rebel against their bosses or act against the code and so equality before the law” reflects and reinforces inequality of power and wealth. This means that a system of property rights protects the liberties of some people in a way which gives them an unacceptable degree of power over others. And this critique cannot be met merely by reaffirming the rights in question, we have to assess the relative importance of the various kinds of liberty and other values we hold dear.

Therefore right-“libertarian” disregard for equality is important because it allows “anarcho”-capitalism to ignore many important restrictions of freedom in society. In addition, it allows them to brush over the negative effects of their system by painting an unreal picture of a capitalist society without vast extremes of wealth and power (indeed, they often construe capitalist society in terms of an ideal — namely artisan production — that is pre-capitalist and whose social basis has been eroded by capitalist development). Inequality shapes the decisions we have available and what ones we make:

“An ‘incentive’ is always available in conditions of substantial social inequality that ensure that the ‘weak’ enter into a contract. When social inequality prevails, questions arise about what counts as voluntary entry into a contract. This is why socialists and feminists have focused on the conditions of entry into the employment contract and the marriage contract. Men and women … are now juridically free and equal citizens, but, in unequal social conditions, the possibility cannot be ruled out that some or many contracts create relationships that bear uncomfortable resemblances to a slave contract.” [Carole Pateman, Op. Cit., p. 62]

This ideological confusion of right-libertarianism can also be seen from their opposition to taxation. On the one hand, they argue that taxation is wrong because it takes money from those who “earn” it and gives it to the poor. On the other hand, “free market” capitalism is assumed to be a more equal society! If taxation takes from the rich and gives to the poor, how will “anarcho”-capitalism be more egalitarian? That equalisation mechanism would be gone (of course, it could be claimed that all great riches are purely the result of state intervention skewing the “free market” but that places all their “rags to riches” stories in a strange position). Thus we have a problem: either we have relative equality or we do not. Either we have riches, and so market power, or we do not. And its clear from the likes of Rothbard, “anarcho”-capitalism will not be without its millionaires (there is, according to him, apparently nothing un-libertarian about “hierarchy, wage-work, granting of funds by libertarian millionaires, and a libertarian party” [quoted by Black, Op. Cit., p. 142]). And so we are left with market power and so extensive unfreedom.

Thus, for a ideology that denounces egalitarianism as a “revolt against nature” it is pretty funny that they paint a picture of “anarcho”-capitalism as a society of (relative) equals. In other words, their propaganda is based on something that has never existed, and never will: an egalitarian capitalist society. Without the implicit assumption of equality which underlies their rhetoric then the obvious limitations of their vision of “liberty” become too obvious. Any real laissez-faire capitalism would be unequal and “those who have wealth and power would only increase their privileges, while the weak and poor would go to the wall … Right-wing libertarians merely want freedom for themselves to protect their privileges and to exploit others.” [Peter Marshall, Op. Cit., p. 653]

[lazyscience]

Fantastic, we have on deck a fucking nepo baby antivaxx/HIV denialist, 5G conspiracist who thinks wifi "penetrates the blood brain barrier," antidepressants cause school shootings, unironically subscribes to "turns the freakin' frogs gay, ivermectin treats COVID for Health and Human Services who thinks we need more raw milk and 'whole foods" while Musk and Ramaswathy are gleefully preparing to deregulate anything that would make sure that the processors of said raw whole foods need to keep them, you know, not full of fucking illness-causing bacteria. You know, like the BRAIN WORM he gave himself from eating undercooked meat.

Also, FUCK Joe Rogan forever, with as many rusty pointed objects a can be found, for normalizing this insane bullshit.

You wanna know why Americans are chronically ill, RFK Jr you fuckstick? Because most of us didn't grow up as the legacy of one of only 24 millionaires in existence during the Great Depression! Most of us don't have a strong enough safety net of wealthy family to get constantly bailed out of legal problems related to drug addiction through college and law school thoroughly enough to get a job as a state ADA and get to write articles for Salon on the strength of a murdered presidential uncle- it's CERTAINLY not your deathless prose or ability to analyze anything, you unregenerate HACK measles-fostering cavity enthusiast.

I never want to hear the name Kennedy again. People turned a fucked up rich family who were basically the Kardashians of their era into some kind of gods of democracy, when if Ted Kennedy hadn't made the 1980 Democratic national convention all about his fucking ego we might have had a chance to stop Reagan - I know, it's a big might, but Kennedys thinking they're owed the goddamn presidency because JFK got shot before he could become an aging hack serial sexual harasser like Bill Clinton are a big part of how politics in this country remain a hereditary aristocracy surrogate.

anyway please, PLEASE write your senators to keep this fucknut out of public health. I'm not sure even Ben Carson wouldn't be a better choice and HE fucking sucks.

[literaticat]

Are successful authors ever industry plants? Is nepotism big in this industry?

I read about certain authors being industry plants (Alex Aster) but I just don’t understand how that would work…or why they would choose someone that had already published books with underwhelming sales to be their plant?

I understand that wealthy people will always have advantages when it comes to access to higher education and not needing to work to provide for themselves and in turn having more time to work on their crafts. Is there more to it than that though?

I don't really think "industry plants" or "nepotism" are things that plague publishing to an unusual degree. This feels like a conspiracy theory with little basis in reality. So short answers: No, not really, it wouldn't work, that's not a thing, and no, there's not really more to it than that.

Longer explanation:

I guess, sure, as in any industry, there might be SOME "nepotism" around publishing. Like if your mom happened to be a high-powered agent or publisher or author, maybe you'd be more likely to get into the publishing business in some way yourself and get some kind of a boost from your/your family connections. But I don't think that's something that is happening A TON or anything -- because let's be real, for the most part, publishing is not the most lucrative of careers. It's just as likely, if your mom was an agent or editor or author, you'd be like "for the love of god, keep me AWAY from publishing, I would actually like to make money!" or your mom would say, "for the love of god, go to LAW SCHOOL or something!"

Yes, of course, as you say, a person with a lot of privilege/wealth generally probs does have a boost in publishing -- they don't have to have twelve other jobs to make ends meet, they have more time to swan around and go to parties and schmooze, they have more resources, a safety net, etc. But I don't think that is something peculiar to publishing, I think privilege helps in ANY industry. (And, it's also very possible to do well in publishing with ZERO previous wealth or "connections" etc. Plenty of folks do! Many/most published authors never knew anyone in the publishing industry before they were published!)

According to Wikipedia, "Industry plant is a term used to describe musicians who become popular through nepotism, inheritance, wealth, or their connections in the music industry rather than on their own merits." (Obvs we are swapping "author" with "musician" and "publishing industry" for "music" here!) Further,  "Artists described as industry plants often present themselves as independent and self-made, but are alleged to have their public images manufactured for them by record labels." (publishers)

The idea that publishers are out there "creating stars" is kind of laughable and gives them more credit than they deserve. Now, might a publisher give media training to an author so they come across more "polished" in interviews, or push a certain narrative about an author when they are doing a PR campaign? Sure, of course. Might a publisher choose to promote a beautiful and charismatic young author a little extra based on the fact that they are beautiful and charismatic? Probably, yes, tbh. -- but they aren't CREATING the authors out of whole cloth. Those authors still have to like, do the work, write the books, submit the books, edit the books, etc etc.

I don't know much about the author you mentioned, but I just looked up this "industry plant" theory about her and it doesn't really make sense to me.

Nepotism? Her family is not, as far as I can see, involved in publishing in any way, so that's nepotism off the table. Wealth? Is the accusation that she, or the publisher, somehow "bought" her way to popularity? That's just not how that works. It's extremely difficult to "buy" or manufacture virality -- if publishers knew how to do that, I promise you they WOULD do that, but they do not. (Hence why publisher marketing departments trying to Make Fetch Happen via tiktok or whatever other social media doesn't usually work at all!)

As far as I can see, this is an author who had a lot of rejections, decided to make tiktoks, went viral, then the book got picked up by a publisher, got a movie deal, etc. This is a lucky thing, and a somewhat unusual thing, but it isn't totally out of left field or anything, and I'm failing to see where "industry plant" comes into the equation. She got a book deal because her tiktoks went viral and that brought her to the attention of the publisher (and also, presumably, because the publisher thought the book was good/ cool and there was obviously an audience for it, see viral tiktok). She didn't "present herself as self-made" per se -- she WAS self-made in the sense that she wrote a book, and then it got published? And the publisher didn't "create her public persona", because she wasn't connected with the publisher until AFTER the videos went viral.

Basically, I think if people (not YOU, but other people) are out there saying that some author -- especially a young woman author -- is "an industry plant" and only got whatever they got because they are wealthy, or young, or pretty, or a nepo baby, or have a certain background, or whatever it is -- it's likely jealousy, and maybe some misogyny, fueling that kind of talk. Because while sure, any of those things certainly might not HURT an author's chances of becoming popular / successful, they still have to do the work. There has to be A BOOK that THEY WROTE at the end of the day.

[capitalism-is-parasitism]

George Monbiot: TAX THE RICH, TAX THEM HARD (Labour is already failing)

We need a genuine levelling up, across regions and across classes. The austerity inflicted on us by the Conservatives was unnecessary and self-defeating and Labour has no good reason to sustain it.

The new government insists it is ending austerity. It isn’t. As the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) pointed out in June, Labour’s plans mean that public services are “likely to be seriously squeezed, facing real-terms cuts”. Similarly, the Resolution Foundation has warned that, with current spending projections, the government will need to make £19bn of annual cuts by 2028-29. However you dress it up, this is austerity.

We are constantly told: “There’s no money.” But there is plenty of money. It’s just not in the hands of the government. The wealth of billionaires in the UK has risen by 1,000% since 1990. The richest 1% possess more wealth than the poorest 70%. Why do they have so much? Because the state does not; they have not been sufficiently taxed.

There are two reasons for taxing the rich and taxing them hard. The first is to generate revenue: this is the one everyone thinks about. But the second is even more important: to break the spiral of patrimonial wealth accumulation. Unless you stop the very rich from becoming even richer, it’s not just their economic power that continues to rise, but also their political power. Democracy gives way to oligarchy, and oligarchy is intensely hostile to everything Labour governments seek to achieve, including robust public services and a strong economic safety net. When oligarchs dominate, you can kiss goodbye any notion of the public good.

Last year, I tried to estimate how much it would cost to restore a viable, safe and inclusive public realm after 14 years of Tory vandalism. While my effort was very rough, the sum came to between £65bn and £100bn of extra spending a year: between seven and 10 times more than Labour’s total. It’s a lot, although it’s dwarfed by the money the previous government spent on the pandemic: between £310bn and £410bn over two years.

While these sums are ambitious, and would require expanded borrowing (which Labour has foolishly ruled out) as well as taxation, there are plenty of opportunities to raise taxes on the rich. The government could, for example, replace inheritance tax with a lifetime gifts tax kicking in at £150,000, a level that would affect only wealthy people. This would increase revenue while ending a major form of tax avoidance. The government should raise capital gains taxes: it’s perverse that unearned income is taxed at a lower rate than earned income. It should close the carried-interest loophole, which ensures that private equity bosses pay less tax than their cleaners: a pledge on which it already seems to be backtracking.

The government could also levy a wealth tax, a luxury goods tax and a tax on second homes and holiday homes. It could make the windfall tax on fossil fuel revenues permanent. It could replace business rates with land value taxation, and council tax with a progressive property tax based on contemporary property values: both shifts would be fairer and would raise more money. But the only extra taxes the government propose are, as the IFS remarks, “trivial”.

By seeking to raise revenue through economic growth rather than redistribution, Labour avoids the necessary confrontation with economic power. Not only is the strategy uncertain of success (economic growth here is subject to global forces); not only does growth load even more pressure on the living planet; but this approach also fails to break the grip of the ultra-rich. Isn’t this the whole damn point of a change of government, after 14 years of Tory appeasement? Unless you seek to change the structures of power and redistribute wealth, the rich will continue to harvest the lion’s share of growth while using some of their money to buy the politics that expands and fortifies their dominion.

[psychoticallytrans]

As a prison officer in the UK, the way disabled, lgbtq+ and ethnic minority people are treated in American prisons horrifies me. Some of the mistreatment stories I've heard have truly shaken me and I could never imagine treating an inmate that way. I'd like to ask a few questions about the concept of prison abolition.

A) does that mean that you want all prisons (in America) done away with?

B) if that happens, would you want to see the prison system rebuilt differently, with different values?

C) if not, what would you then want to see happen to those criminals who are not fit to be in the outside world?

The last one especially interests me, because I'm a huge believer in rehabilitation and redemption. I do a lot of work in it myself. However, I've met people who are genuinely unwilling/unable to be rehabilitated, and sometimes I think a (UK) prison is the safest place to put them, both for their sake and for others.

Abolition means exactly what it sounds like. No more prisons. It also isn't exclusive to the US. A lot of prison abolition advocates are here because our system is particularly heinous in comparison to the "best country" front our country puts on. I recommend that you look into what prison abolition advocates are saying in the UK. You might be surprised by what some of your fellows are doing to inmates, and how it harms them.

How we accomplish this varies in the details from person to person, but tends to involve a few factors:

One, dealing away with the reasons for as many crimes as possible. There are a lot of options for this. Reinforcing our social safety nets so that people don't have to fear for housing, for their children, for food or medicine. Reestablishing on a wide scale the availability of live-in mental health care, this time with far more oversight to prevent abuse of patients, and a strong lean towards the supportive decision making model and peer to peer support. Some crimes also just need to be struck from the books, such as drug use and possession, which needs to be considered a public health issue, not a criminal one.

Two, if someone does still commit a crime under this model, figuring out why they did it and addressing it with them. This often takes the form of community service, healthcare, job training, and a support team working to help them to reintegrate.

I ask you this. Of the people you don't think could reintegrate, how many of them would be able to do so if they had several people backing and supporting them doing so and knew that they would be safe and able to live a life outside? How many of those actually need lifelong live-in mental health care, which is almost impossible to access these days, rather than lifelong incarceration? And are you aware that it will be almost impossible to answer these questions for all of the inmates without making an attempt?

In the meantime, I'd like to leave you this link, which covers a brief history of prison abolition in the UK, and includes further reading at the end.

[pandavalkyrie]

Yesterday I had a thought about self driving cars. The idea is simple, right? You tell the computer where you want to go and it takes you there. I hate driving, so at least at first, years ago, the idea of this was like a dream. Let someone, or something else, take the anxiety away. Take the risk from my hands. 

But now I’ve read all the arguments about why self driving single family vehicles are a waste. And now I agree, yes, just build trains. Just build a better public transportation system. But something else occurred to me recently while I was driving to the store.

Something kind of more existential that creeped into my understanding of how everything else is starting to turn.

Self driving vehicles will destroy the act of getting lost on purpose. 

On purpose is the important part there. Sometimes my husband and I will get in the car and go, with no real destination in mind. We just hit the road and drive, making turns at random, seeing what we see. We’ve stumbled into some incredible situations doing this. We’ve found parks, restaurants, and a creepy crumbling Christian LARP center we never would’ve found if we just plugged ‘Olive Garden’ into the GPS computer and let it go.

Automated cars will streamline the transportation experience. It’ll take out making a left turn instead of a right, because you had the thought, “Why not?”

If all cars became self driving, which some folks are claiming one day will happen, that’s one opportunity for a little extra spontaneous color in your life dead in the water.

And it’s not just that. It’s all automation. Wendy’s is testing an AI that’ll take your order at the drive thru. Yes, the primary problem with this is the elimination of jobs without any social safety net. That’s enough to side against it.

But, it also takes away a moment of interaction with a stranger. 99% of the time those interactions range form boring to frustrating, but 1% you get to talk to someone for a few minutes that makes your day. Maybe they joke around with you, compliment you, suggest something on the menu even. It’s a small social moment we need.

Everything needs to be streamlined. Everything needs to be efficient. We need to eliminate as much color and strangeness and opportunity for discomfort as possible. Television shows need to get on with the plot, quit sitting with the characters and letting the themes breathe with them. AI art generates exactly what you want to see without any little imperfections or quirks of the artist. Keep using the system, soon even the quirks of the AI itself like too many fucking fingers will also be smoothed out.

This is an existential crisis I’m having right now. Hell, maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m being dramatic. But it feels like algorithms and so called AI are going to pigeonhole us into our little nuclear family bubbles and keep us there, lest we stop being good predictable consumers.

Stick with what you already know, tell the machine that’s what you want, and let it spit that exact thing out for you. Hell, the machine already predicted you wanted it. Google calendar told your car you have a doctor’s appointment, you don’t even need to enter the clinic’s address. How convenient.

Am I making a point here? Am I rambling or does this make sense? I have severe social anxiety and still I don’t want every interaction with a stranger replaced with a sterile and cold machine.

[mariacallous]

The number of studies of pre-K could fill an entire book, but it wouldn’t have a very satisfying conclusion. Some studies have found that providing low-income children with early education produces stunning results, but these studies were conducted decades ago when mothers were far less educated, out of home care was less common, safety net programs were stingier, families were larger, and childbearing started at an earlier age, often in adolescence. More recent evidence, such as the evaluation of the national Head Start program, have not shown that children benefit from the program. As for the increasing share of children enrolled in state or district-sponsored programs such as public pre-K, their success is all over the map. One study of a Boston program found that enrolled children were more likely to graduate from high school and enroll in college. Another study of a Tennessee program found negative results. Using a more typical result from state-based programs, we recently provided new estimates of the long-term benefits of a state program and show that it could increase lifetime earnings by about $16,000.

So what’s a parent or policymaker to think? What’s the bottom line? It’s actually quite simple. The main reason we need more preschool is because, even if it doesn’t clearly benefit child development, it provides high-quality childcare for low-income working parents. That care enables the parents of three- and four-year olds to work, knowing that their children are in a safe and stimulating environment.

But, you might ask, why do these parents need to work? Couldn’t they stay home and take care of their own children? Unfortunately, that’s no longer a realistic option for most families. Among married parents, two-thirds of the mothers of 3- to 5-year-olds are in the labor force along with three-quarters of their nonmarried counterparts.

Another question that might be raised is about costs. Isn’t preschool more expensive than childcare? Yes, but only because we continue to pay childcare workers a pittance ($14.22 an hour in 2022), which is a problem in itself with real consequences for children. A program in Quebec that tried to make childcare available cheaply actually had negative effects on children’s later behavior, health, and likelihood of being involved in crime.

Put differently, and most simply, preschool should be thought of as a good quality childcare option. If it also improves children’s later life prospects, that’s great. And it may. We just shouldn’t count on it.

Critics of this argument point to earlier research showing that programs like Perry Preschool in Ypsilanti Michigan or Abecedarian in North Carolina produced dramatic gains in children’s later success in school and in the labor force, reduced crime, and more than paid for themselves. But those programs were high quality, intensive efforts that are not realistically scalable to all or even most three and four-year-olds.  Furthermore, these earlier studies were based on follow up data for children born decades ago who lacked the kinds of home environments and alternative opportunities that now exist.

I’m not arguing that an intensive, very high-quality preschool experience couldn’t help children later in life. But given a choice between investing in such a program and providing more resources to public schools to enhance learning in the early or middle grades, I’d vote for the latter. Rucker Johnson and Kirabo Jackson have shown that what happens in those later grades is critical to the impact of the Head Start program. If Head Start isn’t followed up with high-quality instruction in the early grades, we may be wasting scarce resources. Some Head Start children will be retaught in kindergarten or first grade what they learned earlier while others will experience an immediate boost in school readiness at the end of Head Start only to find those gains fade for lack of adequate follow up in grades one through three.

I believe there is an emerging consensus about these issues within the expert community, based on my own review of the research and the discussion that occurred at a private Brookings conference I organized in May (highlights of the discussion are summarized here).

For those who disagree, a constructive response would be to fund some research on what happens to the children enrolled in Head Start later in their academic careers. So far, the evidence on Head Start’s success isn’t encouraging.

In the meantime, many American families are finding it extremely difficult to find decent and affordable childcare for their toddlers.  While we are waiting for more research to be done, let’s at least provide them with some relief. And let’s also recognize that paying childcare workers minimum wages is not reasonable if we care about them and the children in their care.

[thoughtportal]

Being unhoused and the effects of being unhoused

https://www.tiktok.com/@sorenrehkopf/video/7198364041402764586?_r=1&_t=8ZlMD9QnKqE

582,462 and Counting

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/03/business/economy/us-homeless-population-count.html

By The New York Times

Published Feb. 3, 2023Updated Feb. 9, 2023

To fix a problem like homelessness in America, you need to know its scope. To do that, you need sheriffs, social workers, volunteers, flashlights and 10 days in January.

They go into the streets in search of data. Peeking behind dumpsters, shining flashlights under bridges, rustling a frosted tent to see if anyone was inside. This is what it takes to count the people in America who don’t have a place to live. To get a number, however flawed, that describes the scope of a deeply entrenched problem and the country’s progress toward fixing it.

Last year, the Biden administration laid out a goal to reduce homelessness by 25 percent by 2025. The problem increasingly animates local politics, with ambitious programs to build affordable housing getting opposition from homeowners who say they want encampments gone but for the solution to be far from their communities. Across the country, homelessness is a subject in which declarations of urgency outweigh measurable progress.

Officially called the Point-in-Time Count, the annual tally of those who live outside or in homeless shelters takes place in every corner of the country through the last 10 days of January, and over the past dozen years has found 550,000 to 650,000 people experiencing homelessness. The endeavor is far from perfect, advocates note, since it captures no more than a few days and is almost certainly a significant undercount. But it’s a snapshot from which resources flow, and creates a shared understanding of a common problem.

This year, reporters and photographers from The New York Times shadowed the count, using a sampling of four very different communities — warm and cold, big and small, rural and urban — to examine the same problem in vastly different places.

On any given evening, the forces that drive someone to sleep outside or in a shelter are myriad and complex. A long-run erosion in wages. A fraying social safety net. The fact that hard drugs are cheap and mental health care is not. Year after year, the count finds people experiencing homelessness to be disproportionately Black, disproportionately old and disproportionately sick. Members of the L.G.B.T.Q. community are overrepresented as well.

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There is one factor — the high cost of housing and difficulty of finding anything affordable — that rises above the rest. The numbers bear this out, explaining why expensive West Coast cities like Los Angeles have long had the nation’s worst homeless problems, why growing cities like Phoenix are now seeing a troubling rise, and why it is seemingly easier to solve homelessness in places like Rockford, Ill., a once-thriving factory town that has lost a lot of jobs but where housing remains cheap.

“Housing has become a competition for a scarce resource, and when you have that the people who are most vulnerable are going to lose,” Gregg Colburn, a professor at the University of Washington and a co-author of “Homelessness Is a Housing Problem,” said in an interview.

The 2023 count will provide a crucial understanding of the legacy of the Covid-19 pandemic and the success of government efforts in blunting its effects. Last year’s count — 582,462 — showed homelessness was essentially flat from two years ago, a fact that Jeff Olivet, executive director of the U.S. Interagency Council on Homelessness, attributed to widespread eviction moratoriums, billions in rental assistance and an expansion of federal housing vouchers that fortified the safety net. The question for this year, Mr. Olivet said, is “whether we were able to flatten the curve and even start pointing downwards.”

Behind each number are tens of thousands of volunteers, outreach workers and public safety officers who spend the wee hours looking for the most destitute members of their community.

Sometimes, people gladly answer questions and thank volunteers for what they are doing, with a hope that accurate figures will bring more funding for housing and services. Other times, they feel violated and gawked at.

“What are you doing?” a man on a bicycle in Los Angeles asked a team of volunteers in day glow vests as they walked past a downtown sidewalk covered in tents.

“Counting.”

“Counting what?”

“Counting people.”

— Conor Dougherty

Los Angeles, Jan. 25-26

‘Once you enter this whole cycle, you are always on the edge’

In the capital of the capital of homelessness, the people who live outside are used to seeing outsiders. This is especially true in Skid Row, a 50-block neighborhood in downtown where some 3,000 people live in the tents, shanties and recreational vehicles that so thoroughly clog the sidewalks that much of the pedestrian traffic is in the streets. So when dozens of volunteers in reflective vests left the Downtown Women’s Center to count on a recent evening, the people they were counting rarely so much as looked up.

“They constantly have visitors, whether it’s proselytizers, outreach teams, people offering them something to eat, people offering them drugs — people doing a homeless count,” said Suzette Shaw, a volunteer who helped with the tally this year. “This community never sleeps.”

Ms. Shaw is a 58-year-old student who lives in the neighborhood and was once homeless herself. She lived in various forms of transitional housing — hotels, shelters — until she found a permanent subsidized unit in 2016, whose rent is partially covered with a Section 8 housing voucher. Joining the count is one way she tries to make sense of a neighborhood whose scenes of ragged fabric and open fires are some of the bleakest pictures America has to offer.

Given that it has the nation’s worst homeless problem, Los Angeles’s count requires assembling a small army that spends three days and several thousand hours amassing their figures. This ranges from volunteers like Ms. Shaw who comb sidewalks for a few hours, to officers like Lt. William Kitchin, of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, who along with a team of deputies and outreach workers spent a recent Wednesday driving a stretch of the Los Angeles River to tally the residents who live under overpasses and along the banks.

Unlike smaller cities, which often pair the Point-in-Time Count with interviews and outreach, for sensitivity and safety reasons organizers in Los Angeles discourage volunteers from interacting with the people on the streets.

Some walk, some drive, but for the most part it happens briskly and the numbers they come back with are large. According to last year’s count, about 20 percent of the entire nation’s unsheltered population — about 50,000 people — lived in Los Angeles County.

This has left voters despondent: Surveys consistently show housing and homelessness are the biggest concern of California voters, while a recent poll by the Los Angeles Business Council Institute found residents are furious at the city’s inability to make so much as a dent, with many voters saying they feel unsafe and have considered moving because of the homeless problem.

After a campaign last year that focused almost entirely on homelessness, Karen Bass, the city’s new mayor, declared a state of emergency on her first day in office. This gives her office expanded powers to speed the construction of affordable housing by lifting rules that impede it.

“Tonight we’re counting the people on the street, but we also know that it is most important that we prevent new people from falling into homelessness,” the mayor said to a crowd at a kickoff event in the San Fernando Valley. She joined the count shortly after, along with the actor Danny Trejo.

Ms. Bass summed up the central problem for Los Angeles and other high-cost U.S. cities: Even as they spend billions on new housing and expanded services, more people continue to fall into homelessness faster than these programs can help people already on the streets. Nationally, some 901,000 people exited homelessness each year between 2017 and 2020 on average. That figure would be a huge accomplishment, but for one detail: About 909,000 people entered homelessness each year over the same period.

“Once you enter this whole cycle, you are always on the edge,” Ms. Shaw said.

Phoenix, Jan. 24

‘I stayed there till they kicked me out’

By Jack Healy Photographs by Ariana Drehsler

Daniel Greene never thought he would end up homeless in Phoenix, a city that enticed him from Idaho a decade ago with balmy winters and cheap housing. But when his lease was up for renewal in December, Mr. Greene said his landlord raised the monthly rent on his one-bedroom apartment to $1,400 from $700. Arizona has few restrictions on rent increases. Now, Mr. Greene is sleeping in a park while he tries to scrape together a deposit.

“I would need $4,000,” he said on Tuesday morning, as a volunteer counted Mr. Greene as part of the city’s portion of the annual Point-in-Time Count.

Mr. Greene, 54, is one of thousands of newly homeless people who have been coughed out of the tailpipe of Arizona’s economic engine, casualties of growth that has drawn new factories and hundreds of thousands of new residents, while sending housing costs spiraling.

Advocates say Phoenix’s streets are increasingly filled with people who simply could not afford an increasingly pricey Arizona: Average rent in the Phoenix area has risen by about 70 percent over the past five years, and the number of people in shelters or living on the street has gone up by 60 percent.

“The cost of housing is the biggest thing we see,” said Kenn Weise, the mayor of the suburban city Avondale, Ariz., and chairman of the Maricopa Association of Governments, which runs the Point-in-Time Count.

The path that brought Mr. Greene to a park in downtown Phoenix, repairing a beater bicycle, began, he said, when he fell from a scaffold at his carpentry job a few years ago. Work was impossible after he crushed his leg, but he said he survived on monthly disability checks.

The rent on his apartment near the palms of Encanto Park crept up from $525 to $700 before doubling in December, part of the disappearance of modestly priced rentals around Phoenix. A decade ago, almost 90 percent of apartments around Phoenix rented for $1,000 or less. Now, just 10 percent do.

“I stayed there till they kicked me out,” Mr. Greene said.

He shoved his furniture and most of his clothes into a $100 monthly storage unit and decided to live outside to try to rebuild his finances. A weekly motel might have been safer, but he figured the open air was free. He is camping out with three other men and spends a lot of time scouring roommate websites.

“I’m doing this on my own,” he said.

As the first of nearly 1,000 volunteers crisscrossed downtown Phoenix starting before sunrise on Tuesday morning, they met people sleeping in makeshift tents beside new art spaces and camping out in the shadow of construction cranes.

One volunteer, Katie Gentry, regional homelessness program manager for the Maricopa Association of Governments, walked up to a gas station downtown where people had come to ask for quarters to buy coffee and escape from the chill; she approached them to ask a series of deeply personal questions with a matter-of-fact cheerfulness.

The Point-in-Time Count is part census, part deeply intimate personal history. Volunteers here ask for people’s name, age and ethnicity, but also whether prison time, drug use or mental illness is a factor in their homelessness. One question asks whether people had ever traded sex for shelter.

Gustavo Martinez, 56, said he lost his job as a concessionaire for spring-training baseball games during the early days of the pandemic, and he lost his subleased apartment a few months later. He has been bouncing from friends’ couches to shelter beds to living on the streets ever since. He said that he earned a little money cleaning up after the downtown Phoenix farmers market, and that he often spent his time marveling at how anyone could afford to live downtown in the new high-rises sprouting up around him.

“Everything is just going up and up and up.”

Cleveland, Mississippi, Jan. 24-26

‘They were born there, raised there, and they have become homeless there’

By Campbell Robertson Photographs by Desiree Rios

One of Florida McKay’s colleagues had passed on a tip: There was a woman living in a trailer without heat, light or water in Shelby, Miss., a little hamlet surrounded by the soybean and cotton fields north of town. On a cold and gray morning, Ms. McKay and Robert Lukes, who was helping to administer the Point-in-Time Count in the Mississippi Delta, drove past acres of mud-bogged farmland to find her.

“The Delta’s a little different from other areas in terms of homelessness,” said Ms. McKay, the director of homeless services for the Bolivar County Community Action Agency, a nonprofit organization. There are plenty of people in need here — the median household income in Bolivar County is less than half of the nation’s and the poverty rate is roughly triple — but they are scattered across the region, making the Point-in-Time Count a sprawling exercise in detective work.

On a street corner in Shelby, they parked near a blue and white trailer sagging into the grass. A woman opened the tattered door, hugging herself in the cold, and welcomed Ms. McKay and Mr. Lukes inside. Blankets were stapled over the windows and a rusty propane tank squatted at the end of a bed.

Mr. Lukes began the questionnaire: name, age, how long had she been homeless. Vickey Wells, she said, born on Christmas Day, 1971. She had been living in this dark, cold room for most of a year. Asked how long she had been in the community, Ms. Wells seemed puzzled. She grew up down the street. “This is my home,” she said.

Rural areas are different in terms of homelessness and the Delta is perhaps more different still. In this vast expanse of rural Mississippi, one of the poorest regions of the country, there are very few shelters, very few multifamily housing developments and, relative to the rest of the country, fewer places for rent.

It is a landscape of cropland and modest stand-alone homes, where families have lived — or did live — for generations. Some homes have been empty for years, left behind by a Great Migration of Black people out of the Delta that began early last century and has never really stopped.

In contrast to big cities, where those who are homeless are often people who have moved there in search of opportunities, many of the people without a place to stay in the Delta are those who have never left. In some cases they seek shelter in the homes left by those who went elsewhere.

“People in the Delta that are homeless are from the Delta,” said Hannah Maharrey, the director of the Mississippi Balance of State Continuum of Care, a federally funded program to address homelessness. It’s also the organization that Mr. Lukes works for. “They are literally homeless in their hometown. They lived there, they’re from there, their roots are there, they were born there, raised there, and they have become homeless there.”

Some have been kicked out by family or marooned after the death of a parent; some are escaping abuse; some have fallen prey to addiction in a place where the margin for error is virtually nonexistent. Some never left their homes at all, staying as the structures around them decayed and utilities were cut off, becoming homeless without ever moving.

Jobs in the Delta are scarce, government services are limited and the nonprofit infrastructure is thin, Ms. Maharrey said. The burden of helping the desperate falls largely to churches, neighbors and community groups.

The Point-in-Time Count relies on these local ranks and their network of sources — court clerks, gas station attendants, motel owners, police officers, longtime contacts within the homeless community itself. On cold nights, those seeking shelter find sanctuary anywhere they can, in cars, abandoned homes and vacant strip malls. The only way to really know who is staying where is to live in these communities and know the people firsthand.

The fact that the rural homeless population is harder to see is what makes the yearly census so important, Ms. Maharrey said. “When I talk to other communities, they find it difficult to believe that there’s homelessness in rural Mississippi, or that there’s homelessness in rural America,” she said. “The Point-in-Time Count gives us a reference point.”

In Greenwood, Miss., population around 14,000, the team drove into a wooded lot where Donjua Parris, 43, had been living with her partner since the summer. Four years ago, her partner lost his maintenance job at the apartment building where they lived, she said, and when they were evicted, her family wouldn’t take them in. Ms. Lukes ran through the census questions with Ms. Parris, who shivered in the cold, then he asked her where they should go to find others.

“There is a place,” she said, gesturing toward an area on the riverside of a nearby levee, where she said a pregnant woman was living. “She needs help.”

A few minutes later, Mr. Lukes had climbed down the levee and found a campsite abandoned. If the woman had been there, she was gone now.

Rockford, Illinois, Jan. 23

‘Right now, I don’t got to worry anymore’

By Conor Dougherty Photographs by Jamie Kelter Davis

Empty bridges, empty alleys, an empty shanty behind a strip mall parking lot. Angie Walker ticked off a list of where people have been known to sleep. Outside, it was in the mid-20s with a light layer of snow upholstered on fences and grass.

“Our hope is that nobody is outside,” said Ms. Walker, who oversees the homeless program for Rockford’s Health and Human Services Department. “We don’t usually get that lucky.”

They did not, but they were close. After a three-hour search in a Chevy Suburban that at times went off-road and on bike paths, Ms. Walker and her team, which included a retired police officer and a member of the Fire Department, found only one person — a shivering man in a tent who clasped his hands as she ran through a list of survey questions — on the night of Rockford’s count.

As Ms. Walker had predicted earlier in the evening, most of the night’s numbers consisted of the three-dozen people who laid on rectangles of padding parceled across a gym floor at Second First Church. On winter nights, the church becomes a warming center, providing a captive audience for Ms. Walker and the dozen others who spent an hour counting bodies and performing surveys after the drive.

“Right now, I don’t got to worry anymore,” said Shirley Gill, a 63-year-old who was in for the evening.

Not having to worry anymore: That is the goal of the tens of billions that city, state and federal governments spend each year in their so far futile effort to end homelessness.

Rockford is one of the country’s biggest success stories, having effectively ended the condition for veterans and chronically homeless individuals, or those who have experienced homelessness for at least a year, who have severe addiction problems or live with a disability of some kind.

The road to those accomplishments was a program called “Built for Zero,” a coalition of 105 local governments nationwide whose members commit to reorganizing their social services and gathering monthly data with a goal of drastically reducing their homeless population. (In 2021, Community Solutions, the New York nonprofit that created “Built for Zero,” was awarded a $100 million grant from the MacArthur Foundation to expand the program.)

Central to the work is a concept called “functional zero,” or the point at which the number of people going into and out of homelessness is equal each month, and anyone who experiences it isn’t homeless for more than a few weeks. This does not mean no one will ever be seen sleeping on the streets: Community Solutions instead likens its strategy to a hospital that can take care of everyone who shows up, even if the medical staff can’t prevent them from getting sick.

“Before we get to a place where no one ever has to experience homelessness, we need some milestone that shows we have a system that can be responsive,” said Beth Sandor, chief program officer at Community Solutions.

Back at the warming center on the night of the count, Douglas Webb, a 54-year-old Marine Corps veteran, provided an example of good news. The first time Mr. Webb visited the warming center at Second First, he said, was after an outreach worker found him under a mass of blankets in a parking garage. Now he works at the warming center in the winter.

“I was able to pull myself out of it,” he said.

Mr. Webb is part of what is perhaps the most encouraging story in homelessness. Measured by the Point-in-Time Count, homelessness among veterans nationwide has plunged 55 percent since 2010, as the federal government has poured money into housing and support programs for them.

Mr. Webb noted that he paid $620 for a one-bedroom apartment, low by national standards. (Rockford’s rents are about half the national level, according to a rental index compiled by Zillow.) This is a reflection of the city’s economic malaise. In the hours before the count, Ms. Walker gave a brief tour of Rockford, with sights that included an abandoned factory that used to provide good paying jobs, the anchor storefront that used to be a Kmart, the boarded-up school where people sometimes live.

The city of 147,000 is a picture of Rust Belt decline, with problems that are a magnification of the country’s stratifying economy: Over the past several decades, its base of middle-class manufacturing jobs has withered and been replaced by low-wage retail work, creating a cycle of poverty, despair and crime.

As Ms. Walker surveyed a deserted encampment made with tarps and PVC piping, she noted that some of the city’s success in fighting homelessness could be attributed to its decline. In other words, because there’s been so much disinvestment, Rockford’s housing is cheaper and more plentiful than elsewhere. And such is the irony of homelessness: Economically speaking, it’s easier to solve it in places where things are going poorly than where things are going well.

[badedramay]

they claim to be feminists who like and want flawed heroines but only if their fav actor is playing them. a non-fav actor playing a flawed heroine in a similar vein as their fav character is "confusing" and "too out of touch with reality". the hypocrisy hypocrisizes like a hippopotamus xD

this is the part that bothers me the most. there's one user who's been quite popular in refuting criticism of fairytale and repeatedly implies the only reason people could dislike it is bc they hate feminine joy. fairytale is far from being the only show ever to center feminine joy. and i really dislike the implication as well that for feminine joy to be valuable it has to exist in an exclusive bubble where it can never overlap with struggle or more serious attempts to address societal issues. yunhi's a phenomenal example of how it's more than possible to balance both feminine joy and serious topics, and the relationships between women are arguably its centerpiece. i also think it's a really refreshing example of how to explore these topics without relying on sensationalizing them the way so many dramas do, so where are the fairytale fans championing it if they're so intent to promote less toxic dramas and more "green flag" representation? like you said, "green flag" representation is nice to a degree but it's not logical to exist within a sphere of toxic positivity either and esp when it's clear your support of such positivity is only exclusive to the media entities you're personally invested in

something else i'm also curious about is the lifestyle circumstances of people who champion umeed as a relatable character. i enjoy her immensely as a quintessential romcom element but realistically what young women in their twenties can actually afford to make so many serious financial mistakes while having a complete safety net to fall back on? that may be the reality for a large swath of upper middle class or upper class pakistani women, but i highly doubt it's the reality for everyone else and it's odd to act like people are simply women haters bc they want practical depictions of women on their screen. there's an unspoken conversation about personal financial privilege waiting to be had not only with respect to fairytale but with respect to a lot of dramas. and the more these viewers try to resist the constraints of the drama's romcom genre and act like it's comparable to dramas far more focused on class tensions, the more it looks like that conversation really needs to be had

You bringing up Yunhi is a great example of why FT fans at their core are also no different than TB fans. TB as a show worked on its chemistry, right? no one cared for any other thing there than the chemistry between the leads. isn't the same thing going on for FT? I don't see any discussions or posts about the show that do NOT revolved around the main couple. so like..why the smugness? wahan MeeraSim's contract was the hot topic, here it's the FarMeed shaadi. at the end of the day they are the two sides of the same fangirling coin. FT fans didn't spare one single chance of dumping on TB which fair enough, TB as a show was too problematic to not be criticized. but have the same courage to hear criticisms about your favorite no?

if what makes FT stand apart is its wholesome romance, green flag hero, flawed but still endearing heroine toh umm...isn't that the SAME thing going on in Yunhi??? I doubt we have seen a more REALISTICALLY green flag hero than Dawood. he loves his wife, he respects his wife, he is more than willing to uthaofy any nakhras she might have; he is aware of his wife's rights and is dignified enough to fulfill them without being specifically reminded to, he hasn't done any major grave sin that would demand redemption except hold her hand once to stop her from going but even that was firmly called out by Kim so he never repeated that. he stands up for his wife, he supports his wife both in public and private, he doesn't FORCE her to do anything and instead engages in open and honest conversations with her. yeah i don't see any championing for HIM as a standard for heroes. and we all know why's that - it's just cuz Dawood and Kim's story and romance is a lot more subtle and grounded and doesn't have the rom-com treatment that FT's main characters do. so bhayee seedhe seedhe bol do na ke you aren't fan of your show because it's breaking stereotypes and serving pathbreaking content - you just like it cuz you like to see attractive people romance in a glamorous world. just like TB fans liked watching attractive people romance in a larger than life context.

and you bring up AN EXCELLENT point about the disastrous financial choices of Umeed and how it's supported by the fandom. i'll once again bring up kdramas cuz FT is praised for being kdrama coded. kdramas are often called out for having uber attractive leads in head to toe designer wear who are then shown to be struggling financially. but regardless of the visuals of the characters, the writing of the dramas don't show them to be TOO careless with the concept of finances. even when the poor heroine ends up with the chaebol hero..we do always see her retain her dignity and self respect by taking charge of her own finances. she is always working hard and always trying hard to save money either to pay debts or for the security of her own future - even in the fantastical land, the dramas don't forget to make a statement of being careful with finances. in kdramas you won't see the topic of finances being treated lightly regardless of the genre. sure, a more realistic drama will show the actual grimmer side of poverty while a romcom one will still make things flashy. in either situations money doesn't come easy as a safety net for the main characters. and our financial situation ACTUALLY controls a lot of our life's decisions and our behavior.

i have seen Umeed, flaws and all, being hailed as the kind of representation the young audience connects with and the old people cannot digest someone happy and bubbly as her. which i feel is quite far removed from reality? Umeed is neither a true nor an aspirational representation of the "modern day heroine". idk where she's going on with FT2 but in FT1 she wanted a quick ticket to big money so she could have her own business. she got the money and proceeded to waste it. that's not relatably flawed, that's stupid. you give any teenager who has some dream this much money and they'll still have a solid plan in place on how to invest or spend that money. that's what the modern day youth is doing. they are doing WFH even while in college. they have flourishing freelancing jobs while they are finishing up their degrees. and they do it all while maintaining a good enough social life and academics. THAT'S relatable. THAT'S real.

i feel these criticisms and complains won't even come up if the fans just agreed to take this show as romcom with all the usual willing suspension of disbelief attached to it. but nope. since the start they have praised the show as something beyond its genre and then they get mad when the criticisms it gets also crosses the confines of the genre. they prepared this ground with their own hands..why the surprise now that the attacks are happening? Meenu from Chupke Chupke was also a conventional rom-com heroine with all her idiosyncrasies but the fandom never treated her as either an angel or a devil. she was just Meenu. clumsy, flawed, adorable - just a character written and performed as was the demand of the genre of the show. FT is the same genre. if the fandom has forced for different rules to apply to it to make it unique then that's exactly what is happening to them. unfortunate for them they aren't prepared to deal with it rationally.

[angstyavocado]

A Sherlock-related rant for echoing in the void:

I was watching a YouTube documentary today on why BBC Sherlock sucks (haven't finished it, so far so good). There was a comment below to the effect that the more Moriarty appears in a Holmes adaptation, the worse that adaptation is.

I get where that person is coming from. However, I feel the need to acknowledge where Moriarty came from originally (with the disclaimer that it has been many moons since I last read the Conan Doyle OG's).

Moriarty was 1). Set up as Sherlock's equal and archnemesis, someone worthy of taking out the world's greatest detective, and 2). Not set up in advance, basically at all. Moriarty was the original canon's Eurus.

1). Moriarty was hyped as a big deal. Sherlock was repelled by him. That bit in the courtroom where he describes Jim as a spider in a web? Inspired directly from the book. The way the story set it up, Sherlock had been working for AGES to take down Moriarty's criminal network, and he needed to leave London for his own safety when the net closed. And yet when Moriarty slipped the trap, Sherlock considered it worth his own life to take him out. He leaves Watson a note basically informing him he intends to have a duel to the death with Moriarty, and that it will be 100% worth it. He is willing to risk and sacrifice everything. That's dramatic and cool and all, except for:

2). I'm 98% sure this particular story is the first time we've ever heard of Moriarty. At most, it's the second, with only one previous passing mention. Conan Doyle did nothing, or at least next to nothing, to mount that particular cannon on the wall. The general public is enjoying their fun little one-off episodes of Holmes solving crimes and mysteries, and then they're suddenly told that he's been hunting a big bad all along off screen, and then later in that same story, he's DEAD.

Because ultimately, just like Eurus, Moriarty has been brought in at the eleventh hour to provide something dramatic and worthy of ending the Sherlock story. He had to be hyped bigger and badder than anything before, but it wasn't planned from the beginning at all.

Conan Doyle didn't have a plan from the beginning for Holmes to have an on-going rival. He got sick of writing Holmes stories, and decided to kill him off. He attempted to at least make the ending cool, but it came so out of left field that his fanbase went into LITERAL MOURNING and forced him to bring Holmes back (and differant than before. I think we can all agree that pre-Reichenbach Sherlock was very different than post).

BBC Sherlock, by taking Moriarty seriously from the beginning, doesn't take a bit role character and force him into the spotlight. They are purposely creating a story arc and doing some actual foreshadowing, like Conan Doyle should have done in the first place. Where they went wrong is doing the exact same thing with Eurus to try and end the series with a bang.

[thegayclarinetist]

this is gonna be a long one, probably with a bunch of trailing points, but I feel like I need to write this down.

truly sucks how the widespread availability of the internet has just… fucked over the youngest members of the lgbtq community.

PLEASE HEAR ME WHEN I SAY THIS IS NOT AN ATTACK ON PUBLIC SUPPORT GROUPS OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT

I think a big problem that many of the ~20-30 year old tumblr thinkpiece writers have been unaware of is the actual state of lgbt youths. It’s a problem of marketability politics, feelings of social isolation, mental illness, social media systems, and our good ol’ friend Capitalism.

I will state here that I have firsthand, personal experience with this stuff. i’ve got a severe case of “ADhD where it makes me think a lot about stuff that i’m not exactly an expert on but i have a lot to say about”, so I may be wrong in some parts or leave off on topics that i meant to come back to.

First, i want to talk about Mental Illness and LGBT identities! When I was a tween/ early teenager, i figured out I was gay. Many children like me figure this out, around the time when we have a need for personal identity, but not an amazing grasp on the systems that shape our world. so when we take to social media to communicate about this, we have a strong desire to seek out others similar to us. I’ll get to social media a bit later.

social media is built out of, and constructs it’s own, systems that shape our understanding of the world. And as queer people, young(12-14) queer people fall into these systems in ways that they don’t yet understand. but they have a very strong desire to understand themselves and their identities, the communities around those identities, etc. as an insecure young Gay boy, i found myself on twitter and Discord servers, desperately trying to find a way to participate.

here’s where I’ll talk about social media! It sucks. it truly, really fucking sucks. and i’ll get to why eventually. so we have these young queers. they join some social media group and look up some gay creator or trans artist. they look up and follow these people that share identities. the algorithmic nature of social media reccomends them more. and as Young, malleable minds, they start to pick up on

THE DISCOURSE

hmm. shit.

and because they don’t understand said discourse, they pick up the first few most reasonable posts, add it to their idea of “what this identity is/means/should be”. they see the posts that are targeting and harassing certain creators. so they pick up why these creators are bad. and then the algorithm pushes them to the logical endpoint of this system: the Echo Chamber.

I’ve been through this cycle.

it’s scary, BUT I DIDNT KNOW WHY I SHOULD HAVE BEEN SCARED.

because as a mentally ill gay teenager, I didn’t need to worry about the minutia of transgender infighting based on philosophies of gender. no teenager does. but I was pushed towards these communities and I was adding these ideas to my head. And it’s happening exponentially more, and more severely, to each group of 12-13 year olds because of the growths of these communities.

and being 12-13 sucks, because you are old enough to be subject to some of these systems I mentioned, old enough to feel the need to _do something_, but not old enough to understand that they’re not talking about YOU. the algorithm on twitter doesn’t give a shit if you’re 12-13 and you follow gay people. it shows you the discourse meant for 23-27 year olds. and you don’t know that your mind is being influenced in these ways!

I’m gonna talk about my specific experience with this to maybe clarify what i mean a bit.

I, newly gay, previously a Gifted Education kid, with a lot of ideas and the stubbornness to match, download twitter and discord. I am immediately greeted with discourse. I had already educated myself a bit about how social media twists narratives from watching things like Contrapoints, etc, so i had at least a little bit of a safety net. so i read the discourse, i am subjected to trump tweets and political rants and righteous anger. I, as a 13 year old on the bus rides home from school, start to “learn” about slur discourse, transmedicalism, reaganomics, etc. i start to argue with MAGA dumbasses. i start to try and help people figure out their identities. i memorize all the pride flags.

on discord, i see all of the pronoun roles and the identity roles and emojis. overloaded. i think to myself “it is my job to learn these all, because Twitter told me I am a BAD PERSON if i don’t learn ALL THE LABELS”. I am confronted with these people who i talk to on VCs, text chats, etc, who all have gone through the same pipeline as me. i start to hang out on there a lot. i start to think of myself as a Knowledgeable Expert on queer identities(as a 13 year old). some of the people I was online “friends” with left. some of the popular users leave. i think to myself,”I am one of the Popular people on here. I know what’s up”.

i am exposed to more discourse about binding, tucking, transgender surgery, etc. on twitter.

at some point, i came out to my parents, and i soon stopped interacting on Discord and deleted twitter.

i finally made some queer friends IRL. the kind, who, like me, were subjected to that pipeline.

but i started to realize that the way they were acting was… too much. trying to fight some other friends of mine because they said the wrong microlabel. so i decided to let the overly concerned friends go. i re-educated myself about queer identities. i read a book! it was great. i realized that i wasn’t mature enough to need to give a shit about any of that yet.

i’ll continue this in a reblog i need to get a fresh post open.