Bulgaria just appointed a facist and neo-Nazi, Valeri Simeonov (who is also Deputy Prime Minister), to lead their council on how to “deal” with the Romani people in Bulgaria.
Valeri Simeonov literally talked about creating modern concentration camps, and in 2016, when speaking of Bulgaria’s Roma minority, he told the parliament: “They are brazen, feral, human-like creatures that demand pay without work, and collect sickness benefits without being sick. They receive child benefits for children that play with pigs on the street, and for women that have the instincts of stray dogs.” His party has literally called for the demolition of “Gypsy ghettos” and for Roma to be instead isolated in closed reservations that could “generate income as tourist attractions”
Asides from this Ilian Todorov from the far-right ATAKA party (ultranationalist, racist, especially antisemitic and anti-Roma, xenophobic, especially anti-Muslim and anti-Turkish) is now Bulgaria, Sofia’s regional governor.
The opposition party, Yes Bulgaria, warned that this “toxic national-populism” can only divide society and “heighten the risk of stirring up ethnic enmity” when we have already long gone past the “risk” stage as proven by recent submissions of the European Roma Rights Center and the Bulgarian Helsinki Committee – Both reports detail recent violent events which include mass attempts to storm Roma neighbourhoods, an increase in hate speech, failures by the authorities to deal properly with racially motivated hate crime, as well as incidents such as the brutal assault in April by police of a Romani father and son outside the village of Bohot in Pleven province. The son sustained serious injuries, but his father died at the scene of this assault. The authorities justified the police action by claiming that the men were found in possession of stolen pesticides and had resisted arrest.
The former vice-deputy of the ATAKA party, went on TV to praise the police for “neutralising the two thieves,” for sending a clear message, and spreading the kind of fear that will cause “all crooks and thieves to lay down.”
The situation of Roma in Bulgaria is worsening. And if those events listed are not enough already Roma are still racially segregated in education and housing, being forcefully evicted and having their properties demolished as well.
(The source with links to the reports is here.)
Please sign this petition to the EU Parliament asking them to step in and remove Valeri Simeonov and Ilian Todorov from their positions of power
https://www.change.org/p/european-parliament-help-romani-people-in-bulgaria
https://www.change.org/p/european-parliament-help-romani-people-in-bulgaria
https://www.change.org/p/european-parliament-help-romani-people-in-bulgaria
(via skymurdock)
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aethersea asked: SINCE YOU HAPPENED TO MENTION ALLEIRAT I was wondering what the government system looks like? You've mentioned lords, who seem to have a pretty solid grip on their domains, so I'm guessing something vaguely feudal? Is there a monarchy? A parliament? An oligarchical council of the major nobility? A mix? How does the reigning body feel about Brenneth's return? How do they react to her grabbing Crispin and running for the hills shortly after arriving?
AHHHH ALL VERY GOOD AND HELPFUL QUESTIONS TBH.
Me, upon receiving this ask: Wait Jesus Christ did I ever figure out how power is passed on.
Turns out the answer was “I half-assed the fuck out of it” so anyway now I have a real answer.
Right, so, it’s important to know why Alleirat politics works the way it does, so buckle up for a real fast history lesson. Alleirat, way back in their ancient history, operated as a bunch of city-states run by variably decent lordlings who were perpetually at war with each other–think of Germany during the waning Holy Roman Empire (circa ~1630), not Renaissance Italy. Each city state was centered around the largest local city, and the immediate countryside was allied closely with the city in question. So, once Alleirat exhausted their armies (literally, like, okay, when you’re throwing armies of magic users around like snowballs there’s a huge death toll, they literally started to run out of armies), they drew up unification treaties as a way to solve the Gordian knot of blood feuds and bitterness they’d landed themselves in. This is their version of BC/AD, by the way, things are measured before/after unification, which was some four thousand years before Brenneth and Crispin came for the first time (this number may be subject to change later if I feel like it). In order to protect the newly unified country (named after the continent so as not to give preference), they mostly did away with the hereditary title thing, but they ran into an issue: smaller villages and farms had depended on the protection and help of the bigger cities, which relied on the villages and farms for food and raw materials. Not to mention that the old alliances between city and country ran bone-deep–colorism had a pretty short life in Alleirat, but they’re still working on the very real prejudices against people from other cities–so they couldn’t be gotten rid of entirely.
The balance they struck was the protectorate system, which largely preserved the pre-unification lines of alliance by formally denoting protectorate lands of each sizable city, but also protected the citizenry by laying down clear responsibilities that each has to the other. For example, the great eastern city Dase has a sizable protectorate that pays taxes to the Dase coffers and generates a majority of the farmed food (Dase being…like 90% rock), while Dase provides the farms with protection from both natural and human threats with her city guards as well as manufacturing that the smaller villages wouldn’t be able to do. Dase, like all other cities holding their own protectorates, is run by a gothed, which literally means ‘city servant’, an office subject to reelection by popular vote every eight years and falling somewhere between a prince and a governor as far as power goes. The gothed appoints a given number of advisors (there are ten in Dase, five from the city and five from the protectorate) who represent the interests of their district–if the district feels ill-represented, they can petition the gothed to remove the advisor in question from office and appoint a new one. The gothed is also responsible for selecting a representative to the Unified Council, which is sort of like a senate and which makes the small handful of decisions pertinent to the country at large. The list of things the Unified Council is responsible for is significantly shorter than, say, our Congress because the protectorates have much more hands-on management from their gothedan.
Incidentally, if the gothed dies while in office things can get real interesting. In theory, a new gothed can be promoted out of the ranks of the advisors, but if proof of corruption is revealed in the chaos, all of the advisors are required to be removed from office. The guards in each city (more like a small occupying army, called the lathan) take loyalty oaths to the city and citizens, not to the political figures of power, which means that technically they have the power to arrest any sitting politician as long as they have evidence. Furthermore, there are several functioning criminal bodies in any given Alleirai city, most pertinently the White Touch, a dubiously legal organization of flesh workers whose work covers everything from facial reconstruction (illegal) to assassination for hire (SUPER illegal). The Touch has been known to work in tandem with lathan before, in order to take down politicians. It’s a risky business, being a corrupt politician in Alleirat, far more so than on Earth.
There are some capital P Problems with this system, among them that it takes approximately forever to get things done and also it’s not very adaptable to a crisis–the logical issues you run into when a goodly percentage of your population might be looking at a several century lifespan. Also, money talks, as in our world, also a problem. That being said, the only real requirement to be gothed or to be appointed as such is literacy, and Alleirat has decent literacy rates, so there are and have been plenty of gothedan who were craftspeople, soldiers, farmers, or even minor criminals (the definition of ‘criminal’ is flexible and also Alleirat doesn’t believe in incarceration pretty much at all) before their election to office.
And as for the response to Brenneth ‘Worst Plan Ever’ Fireheart and her highly terrible plan, well.
“The first time I called the CDC, I said that I wanted to talk to someone about possibly designing a zombie virus. …So every time I came up with a new iteration of Kellis-Amberlee, I would call back and say, “If I did this, this, this, this, this and this, could I raise the dead?” And every single time they would say, “No.” And I’d say, “OK,” hang up, and go back to working. After about the 17th time, I called and said, “If I did this, this, this, this, this, this and this, could I raise the dead?” And got, “Don’t … don’t do that.” At that point, I knew I had a viable virus.” —
Seanan McGuire / Mira Grant (via
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(chuckle) Persistence in research pays off.
(via dduane)
#somewhere there is a CDC employee #who is both all out of fucks to give #and experiencing a mild level of perpetual background anxiety about maybe being complicit in the future zombie apocalypse #like I’m just imagining this one specific person fielding all of seanan’s phonecalls #maybe two a day over a period of weeks #and progressing from bemused politeness #to genuine amusement #to steadily escalating panic #’what if she’s not really a writer?’ #’what if I’m actually helping a supervillain??’ #’oh god I’m not paid enough for this’ #’I LIKE VIRUSES NOT THE GENERAL PUBLIC’ #’PLEASE TAKE ME OFF PHONE DUTY OH GOD’ #lowering their head gently into their cupped hands with the phone braced between ear and shoulder #’ma’am-’ #’ma’am we really don’t recommend-’ #’ma’am, no, that wouldn’t-’ #’ma’am please I really think-’ #’don’t… don’t do that-’ #and then she just STOPS CALLING #and after three days of radio silence this person starts discreetly checking the news for x-files-style stories about zombies #getting shit from their colleagues for their sudden fascination with trashy newspapers and trying to play it off #’HAHA YOU GUYS YOU’RE SO FUNNY’ #’YEAH ZOMBIE RACCOONS, IT’S TOTALLY HILARIOUS’ #’WHO WOULD EVEN DO THAT AM I RIGHT?’ #’IT’S NOT LIKE THEY’VE GOT US ON THEIR SIDE’ #’HAHA’ #’HAHAHAHAHA’ #*nervously wipes sweat from forehead*
(via redshoesnblueskies)
(via aethersea)
something i think about a lot is what if alien species have less biodiversity on their planets. like if they’ve got maybe 20, 25 species of bugs, total. so they come to earth and they’re like “whoa.” or they’ll like be like walking down the street and they’re like “ok what’s that” pointing at a st bernard and you’re like “oh that’s a dog” and they’re like “whoa, neat, i’ve heard about dogs.”
and you walk for a while longer and then they point at a yorkie and they’re like “what’s that?” and you kind of have to be like “…that. that’s also a dog.” and they’re like “wait, really?” and you’re like “yeah.” and it takes them a while to absorb this but then you just keep walking.
and like you’re going for a while and somebody’s walking their bull terrier and you’re like trying to walk faster hoping your alien friend doesn’t see but no dice they’re like WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT and you’re like “that. that is a dog” and they let out an anguished wail
and like every time after that they see a weird four legged creature they’re like “that BETTER not be a goddamn dog” and half the time you gotta wince and be like “actually,”
(via human-aliens-collection)
yknow the more jk rowlings world falls apart in america (race relations, international history, population, etc) the more i like to think that america just straight up doesnt have the statute of secrecy. european countries are falling over themselves hiding magic but come to georgia and theres a drunk redneck wizard wingardium leviosa-ing the shit out of a tractor to the delight of his drunk redneck muggle buddies in a walmart parking lot.
wizard on muggle violence is prevented by virtue of there being like a 50/50 chance that muggle is packing heat. muggle on wizard violence is prevented by knowing that wizard can give you boils spelling LIL BITCH on your forehead if you try to start something.
america is the weird redheaded stepchild of the magic world.
im not gonna stop reblogging this until this is the next Hot Fanon
english muggles come back to england and suspicious wizards meet them at the airport.
‘did you witness any strange or inexplicable acts while you were in america?’ they demand.
the english muggles just laugh in their dumb fucking faces. mate, it’s america.
what’s the difference between a werewolf and an animagus?
english wizard: *two hour lecture on legal history*
american wizard: six beers
@jumpingjacktrash congrats ive read hundreds of comments on this dumpster fire of a headcanon and yours is the best
thank you my patronus is a monster truck
(Source: chilledmilk, via bronzedragon)
replied to your
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This was ….. Amazing! Can we have more? * holds up bowl ala Oliver Twist
Sephie opens her eyes and the woman is still standing over her, but the asphalt is…cold. And dry. It’s dark, no rosy dawn colors fingerpainted across the sky, and the woman is dressed all in white–different white, not, thick swathes of cloth like burial shrouds draping down her arms and falling to puddle at her feet like water. Sephie thinks something might be on fire to provide enough light to see, but the light is pale and wan rather than being warm and golden. The woman is leaning on her scythe, and her eyes glint like the blade when the light catches them, metallic and sharpened to a cutting edge.
“You’re awake,” the woman says without looking down, and it doesn’t sound like she’s asking.
Sephie sits up and it’s easy, blissfully easy, no pain or tacky blood sticking to her skin. She’s wearing something unfamiliar, a plain dress in the same white liquid cloth that the woman is wrapped in, leaving her arms bare, and when she presses a hand against the floor, she thinks it’s stone. Marble, maybe, with only a trace of gloss, stretching away in all directions until it meets the walls, where it seems to merge seamlessly into the vertical climb to the cave-like ceiling, dripping with stalactites. The throne at the far side of the room is plain, barely more than a chair with a table beside it, both apparently sculpted wholly out of the floor.
“I’m not, though,” Sephie says, and it’s only by speaking that she realizes her voice works. It’s strong and firm and not at all lifeless, and Sephie closes her mouth, gathers her will to stand.
“You know,” the woman muses as Sephie considers the matter. The stone is very hard–if she tries to stand and falls, she might hurt herself. Or, of course, she might not. She doesn’t know if it’s currently possible to hurt herself. “I expected a great many things when I went on my sabbatical, but you were not among them.”
“I’m sorry,” Sephie says as she pulls her legs beneath her and nudges the dress out of the way. “I think.”
The woman looks down at her at last, startled, almost distressed, and says, “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. My sister may have some adjusting to do, but you wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t quite attached.”
“Your sister,” Sephie repeats as she rises cautiously to her feet. She doesn’t know if it’s that her mind still expects her body to be broken or simply that it’s been a very long day already, but she wavers dangerously, and the woman puts out a hand that Sephie catches hold of at once. The hand is long-fingered and delicately calloused and pale–unhealthily pale, deathly pale, Sephie had always thought, and she bites back a titter now. Deathly pale! The hand is also strong, and the arm attached to it equally so, and the smile on the woman’s face is warm enough to make up for the cold stone still chilling Sephie’s bare feet. “I’ve met your sister.”
“Yes,” the woman says. “We fought in your coffee shop. Or, rather, my sister came to yell at me in your coffee shop. She has some strong opinions about my sabbatical.”
Sephie nods, slowly, and realizes that she’s still clutching awkwardly at the woman’s free hand. The long, strong fingers hold her own in a grip as firm as stone, though, and so instead of trying to let go, she holds on tightly and asks the obvious question.
“Am I dead, then?”
“That’s correct, Persephone,” the woman says, apparently delighted.
“And this place is?”
“The audience chamber.”
Sephie nods again, even more slowly than before, and looks up at the woman. It was less noticeable with the counter between them, but the woman is a full head taller than she is, her masses of white curls storming down her back like a crashing wave. The scythe does not reflect light, for all its perfect polished shine, and the letters on it are in a language Sephie has never seen and yet seems to be a textual equivalent of a long-forgotten tune. She can read them anyway, for all that they try to skitter from under her eye, and thinks of a Latin phrase she heard once.
“And…” Sephie takes a deep breath with lungs that do not breath and listens for her heart that does not beat and thinks to herself–with neurons that do not fire–that she is hardly even surprised. “And who are you?”
The woman smiles at her, and gives a small twist of their hands so that the grip is less awkward, and raises the knuckles of Sephie’s hand to her lips. The touch is electric–quite literally. It kicks through Sephie’s chest like the time she let a finger rest on the prong of a plug as she touched it to the outlet, her vision flaring brightly for a moment until the woman’s lips leave her skin.
“I have many names,” the woman says as she lowers their hands again. “Many of them forgotten, some of them remembered. You can call me Death.”
I’m still watching Liberty’s Kids because REASONS and I watched an episode with Baron von Steuben, and I get why they didn’t include this in a kid’s show, but this dude is THE BEST PART of the winter at Valley Forge.
LET ME TELL YOU WHY, WITH ABUSE OF CAPS LOCK AND BAD LANGUAGE AND IRREVERENCE.
Okay, some background. Baron von Steuben was a Prussian baron who shipped his ass over to America in 1777 in order to help Washington whip the bunch of random farmers, miners, tradesmen, etc who formed the Continental ‘Army’ at the time into shape. He reached Valley Forge in early 1778 (after almost getting his own soldiers ARRESTED IN BOSTON because he accidentally outfitted them in red coats, honestly this dude’s life is just PRIME HISTORICAL COMEDY MATERIAL, someone get the fuck on that) and immediately made a name for himself as a complete–but effective!–wackjob. He would go outside in the middle of winter in full military dress and have all the soldiers (many of whom were lacking a coat and boots at the time, because the goddess of efficiency Martha Washington had not yet made her presence known) run drills from sunup to sundown, whereas most military commanders of the day were Pointedly Uninvolved in the messy day-to-day shit. He also continued the trend of having commanders who were still learning English (Lafayette spoke almost no English upon his arrival, for example), because when von Steuben reached America he spoke zero English and had to write all his orders in French and give them to either HIS aide de camp to translate or the aide Washington periodically lent him (fun fact: Lt. Colonols Hamilton and Laurens were his usual lent-out aides because they both spoke French).
NOW YOU HAVE SOME BACKGROUND AND WE CAN GET TO THE GOOD STUFF.
I’m watching Turn and I’ve just finished the set of episodes on Valley Forge and honestly can someone just point me towards literally any media that includes the Pantless Party.
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