Copaganda does three main things.
First, it narrows our understanding of safety. Police get us to focus on crimes committed by the poorest, most vulnerable people in our society and not on bigger threats to our safety caused by people with wealth and power.
For example, wage theft by employers dwarfs all other property crime combined — from burglaries, to retail theft, to robberies — costing some $50 billion every year. Tax evasion steals about $1 trillion each year. There are hundreds of thousands of Clean Water Act violations each year, causing cancer, kidney failure, rotting teeth, and damage to the nervous system. Over 100,000 people in the United States die every year from air pollution, five times the number of all homicides.
But through the stories cops feed reporters, the public is encouraged to measure a city’s safety by whether it saw an annual increase or decrease of three homicides or fourteen robberies — rather than by how many people died from lack of access to health care, how many children suffered lead poisoning, how many families were rendered homeless by illegal eviction or foreclosure, or how many thousands of illegal assaults police committed.
The second function of copaganda is to manufacture crises or “crime surges.” For example, if you watch the news, you’ve probably been bombarded with stories about the rise of retail theft. Yet the actual data shows there has been no significant increase. Instead, corporate retailers, police, and PR firms fabricated talking points and fed them to the media. The same is true of what the FBI categorizes as “violent crime.” All told, major “index crimes” tracked by the FBI are at nearly forty-year lows.
The third and most pernicious function of copaganda is to manipulate our understanding of what solutions actually work to make us safer. A primary goal of copaganda is to convince the public to spend even more money on police and prisons. If safety is defined by street crime, and street crime is dangerously high, then funding the carceral state leaps out to many people as a natural solution.
The evidence shows otherwise.
— Alec Karakatsanis, “Police Departments Spend Vast Sums of Money Creating “Copaganda”” | Jacobin, July 2022
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The neverland kisnapping AU?
anon this beast is EXTREMELY SELF-INDULGENT and i made it purely and 100% because peter pan has been a fixation of mine since i was a little sprog (specifically the 2003 version with jason isaacs as hook)
TL;DR baz and his siblings are awayed in the night by a sinister faerie creature known as peter pan, who baz finds out has been doing away with the lost boys when they get too old to play his games anymore.
(extra dangerousTM because baz discovers that not only can he be injured like a normal person here, but if you die in never-never-land you DO die in real life)
also finds out that captain hook used to be pan's right-hand playmate as a child and has been rescuing pan's castoffs to try to fight back, the guy takes baz under his wing and teaches him to swordfight. that coat is the one hook was wearing when pan maimed him, and he gave it to baz because it was the only thing he had on hand that would fit a teenager.
"Didst thou ever want to be a pirate, me hearty?"
bonus content when baz gets back to watford simon has a minor crisis about him looking all scarred up and adventurous and rugged
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Good morning, everyone, and welcome to another instalment of the Fandom project! This time, we are once again discussing books, this time, young adult books. Check out previous posts in this series here.
Once again, the list is quite long, so I will just mention the wiki and not go into deeper details about what each one needs help with. If I did that, the post would be too long, and no one would have time for it.
As I've mentioned in previous posts, if you can create & edit a Tumblr post, you can edit articles on a wiki. Here, you can find an easy step-by-step guide on how to get started with contributing, but you can also message me & I will help guide you through any question marks.
13 Treasures Series // A Walk to Remember // The Amateurs // The Archived // Artemis Fowl // Beautiful Disaster // Big Little Lies // The Bone Season // Books of History Chronicles // The Book Thief
Charlaine Harris // Chris Van Allsburg // Chronicles of Nick // Cornelia Funke // Covenant // Dan Brown // Daughter of Smoke and Bone // Destroyermen // The Devil Wears Prada // Diana Wynne Jones // Divergent // The Diviners Series
Emily of New Moon // Endgame // Eric Flint // Famous in Love // The Fault in Our Stars // Fever/Highlander // Fifty Shades of Grey // Fire and Thorns // Gabriel Allon // Gail Carriger // Gail Carson Levine // Gallagher Girls // The Giver // Guards of the Shadowlands
Half Bad Trilogy // Hardy Boys // Hush, Hush // If I Stay // Island in the Sea of Time // J. K. Rowling // Jane Austen // John Green // John Wayne Cleaver // Just One Day // L. J. Smith // The Last Kingdom // Little Britches // Little Women // Lockwood & Co. // The Lone City // The Lovely Bones // The Lying Game
Mara Dyer // Maximum Ride // Me Before You // Meg Cabot // Millenium Trilogy // Monsters of Verity // Mortdecai // Neil Gaiman // Nerve // Outlander // Paws and Claws Mysteries // The Phantom of the Opera // Phillip K. Dick
R.L. Stine // Rain of the Ghosts // The Reckoners // Red Queen // Roman Mysteries // The Selection // Shades of London // Sharpe // Shopaholic // Sir Robert Carey Mysteries // Starbound Trilogy // Starcrossed // Storm and Silence
Takashi Matsuoka // Trudi Canavan // Uglies // Unearthly // Unenchanted // Vicious // We Were Liars // Wicked Lovely // The Witchlands // The Work and the Glory
If your favourite book or series isn't mentioned here, I suggest checking out the literature page, the book club or go to this page & simply search for your favourite book/series/author. Its almost guaranteed to have their own wiki!
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Excerpt: Masquerade
Silco and Sevika chat Topside money, politics and past selves.
From ‘both sides of the moon,’ a oneshot exploring Silco and Sevika’s relationship through a series of business ventures.
Full story on AO3
Silco's hand twitches: a turn of his wrist. He reaches for the inner pocket of his coat, slips out a cigarette case of silver and gold, glinting in the greenery that surrounds them.
"Topsiders exist in a cage of their own choosing," he answers her, minutes past its due—as though she's only just levied her earlier question at him, and not a moment has passed, since. "An outsider no better than a dust of pollen on their heels."
Sevika's learned to keep her thumb on the page. She picks back up where they left off, without a blink.
"You could masquerade it," she reasons. "Money's all a performance."
An air of bemusement slips between them. "Perhaps." He plucks out one hand-rolled cigarette, and another. "A performance they can sniff out, nonetheless," he gravels on. The lull in his words skews curious: a husking purr. "Would you attempt it?"
Sevika narrows her eyes. "Attempt it how?"
He lifts a brow powdered on. "Masquerade. Appease." The case snaps shut. "Suppose you attended one of their wretched balls; wore their Piltovan silks and named yourself Madame Hakeem."
The unfamiliar taste of her father's name leaves an acrid taint in her mouth: the memory of it long buried within her, as deeply as the rotting bastard, himself.
She curls her lip. Digs metal into the meat of her bicep. "I'd rather walk off a cliff."
He scoffs: his version of a laugh. "I wouldn't doubt it."
He tucks the first cigarette between his teeth, and holds the second out for her. The parchment is crisp beneath her fingers. Fresh-rolled.
She pins it in the corner of her mouth, breathing in dry tobacco hashed with juniper leaf. It's the blend he favors, specially imported from Ionia. Unlit, the scent reminds her of the home: desert wastes bloomed to life in two scant weeks of autumn, brambled brush and dry sweet and the taste of dew on the soil. It burned to something else, in one's throat—a sharp smolder of cedar and pepper, like drinking down a forest fire.
She crooks her fingers within her breast pocket, drags out the chilled cube of her lighter. "What about you?" she grumbles around the roll, thumbing a snap-crack of a flame.
The light strikes an embered glow across the twin points of their tobacco. It paints a strange wash over the sallow of his skin, as though he's existed for a millennia in that choking city below; as though he's still that man in the mines, with only scant years on him—hair scraggled to his shoulders, seaglass eyes blazing; a devil's brooding warmth about those scrawny bones, spiked with dry wit and a rapier-grin that crooked at one side, that another soul, in another lifetime, might have admired.
The man she stands with now buried that one beneath the Pilt, and left him there.
On rare occasions, he unearths the corpse. Revisits the weight of those old bones, like a spirit repossessing a forgotten shell.
Most times, he walks straight across that grave, and denies it even exists.
Silco takes a long drag: sighs out a rush of smoke that simmers with spice. "What about me?" he repeats, slowly.
Ash embers in her lungs. She tastes sulfur and carbon in it.
"You'd put on some Piltie suit and call yourself Monsieur Esdras?"
Too sharp—too goading. A twist of a blade.
His own father's name leaves the air similarly tainted. There's a touch of something in his eyes, at the sound of it: something wistful, pensive, young. As quickly as she catches sight of it, it shutters closed.
He breathes a sliver of smoke through his teeth, soundless as a dragon. "No sense parading as a dead man." The words bite from the belly of a beast.
She's standing with an apparition, with a man who is no longer here, housed beneath walls four meters thick. It's the image he bares before every head paid by his coin: lethal, for all it hangs guarded.
The shift unnerves her. Irritates her.
She takes in another drag, the tobacco dark and earthen and pleasant, and hisses it out. The hush of the rain turns deafening.
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