workhouses

Workhouses didn’t vanish because someone abolished poverty or something.

In countries where workhouses no longer exist (or exist in only highly disguised and mutated forms), they no longer exist because the people in these countries decided workhouses were horrible and not an acceptable response to poverty.

I’m sure that in the heyday of workhouses, they felt as inevitable as institutions for disabled people feel to lots of people today.  Lots of people probably even thought they were a good thing – and the only possible way to do certain good things.

A lot of people think the solution to institutions is to cure disabled people.

It’s not.

Disability will always exist and has always existed.

Institutions did not always exist and will not always exist.  They are not necessary.  There is not a single good thing done inside of them that can’t be done outside of them, and better.

Nursing homes, developmental centers, mental institutions, group homes, orphanages, all these things and more do not have to exist.  (This includes the worst of the “home care” agencies – only “home care” by name – that are basically institutions where the inmates live in separate places scattered all over town.  And other forms of what I call “community institutionalization”.  It’s possible to provide care without an institutional power structure.  Really.)

Literally do not have to exist.

All we frigging have to do is understand that not living in a hellhole (and even a painted-up hellhole with lots of perks that doesn’t feel to some people like as much of a hellhole, is a hellhole, also Stockholm syndrome is a thing) is a basic human right.

And if it’s a basic human right for everyone to live outside institutions.  And if it takes a certain kind of assistance for certain people to live outside institutions.  Then that assistance is a human right.  Assistance should never, ever be offered in a way where you can only get it if you agree to be institutionalized.  Just like food should never, ever be offered in a way where you can only get it if you agree to live in a workhouse (or join a religion, or etc.).

TL;DR: THERE IS NOTHING NECESSARY OR INEVITABLE ABOUT INSTITUTIONS SO EVERYONE PLEASE QUIT ACTING LIKE THERE IS.  

Headquarters Generator

Need a place to call your own? Roll on this table to see what’s available!

What kind of property is available? (Roll 1d6)

  1. A watchtower in need of a mason
  2. A longhouse, recently vacated
  3. The old ciderworks (though only the waterwheel and workhouse still stand)
  4. A natural rock crevasse
  5. An old jail filled by a despot and emptied by his usurper
  6. The sprawling manorhouse granted wide berth by locals

Where can it be found? (Roll 1d6)

  1. Just off the cart-path that leads down to the shore
  2. At the edge of town, just before the tree line
  3. Within the ruined foundations of the old despot’s castle
  4. Right where the river forks
  5. At the top of the cliffs
  6. Within a stone’s throw of the border

Staff are hired, but who are these strangers? (Roll 1d6)

  1. An old woman and her three dour sons
  2. A troupe of dwarves, hard working but stubborn
  3. A dapper tiefling who somehow performs the work of ten servants
  4. A dozen human women who fight amongst themselves constantly
  5. A mess of sallow skinned servants with wet eyes and gasping mouths
  6. Swarms of truly miniscule folk who approach their tasks like a wave approaches the shore

There’s something curious about this property. (Roll 1d6)

  1. All but the sharpest eyes seem helpless but to pass over it
  2. Sound echoes in a manner unsuited to the space
  3. The flicker of a torch often lurks around corners with no source to be found
  4. Bright birds flock near here, a different colour every day
  5. The temperature is always perfect inside
  6. Strangers often inquire eagerly with the locals about the place, but their intentions are never stated

There were tenants here before. What did they leave behind? (Roll 1d6)

  1. Elaborately carved wooden furnishings in need of a good dusting
  2. A heap of scrolls on all manner of topics, though unsorted and weather-worn
  3. Cryptic words of warning and a hand crafted ward against spirits and spectres
  4. Several wardrobes of clothes and costumes, all in good condition
  5. A hogshead of gnomish Gray OilBrau spirits
  6. An ancient calico cat that never seems to blink or eat
Stick With Me, Kid *Negan x Reader*

Originally posted by jdm-negan-mcnaughty

Summary: Negan finds a little girl, no more than ten, amongst a car wreckage, after finding out she’s alone in the world. He takes her as his own, raising her through the apocalypse. If there’s one thing that his greatest pride but also his biggest weakness, it’s his daughter, Y/N!
Ratings/ warnings: Teen, mentions of blood and violence. I feel like, Negan as a dad is a warning.
Writers Notes: This doesn’t really have a set plot, it will follow alongside season 6 & 7, I’m unsure if I’ll make it so Carl and reader have a thing. But… I got big feels seeing Negan and Judith.

Notes: I had this idea last year, I wrote a few parts and then forgot about it. Now here I am, uploading it because I miss writing Negan! - Rosalee

Chapter One: Everybody Dies


Chapter Two: Not Everyone Is Gonna Wanna Save Ya!

You were silent and nervous at the new place with Negan and his men. The night you arrived people looked at you oddly, even more so due to the fact you clung to Negan like glue. The only person you really trusted, trust was a stretch, he was safe. The morning after, he passed you off to a woman named, Mary. You didn’t see him for a few days after that.

Mary, whilst she was nice wasn’t safe. It was also boring, Negan’s policy of living was different to the one you had come from; you pull your weight, you are rewarded or something to that extent. Being the youngest out of everyone wasn’t fun, Negan allowed you time to adjust, meaning you had nothing to do but wait till Mary got back to her room.

You prided yourself on being adventurous. You used to somehow always manage to leave your mother’s overbearing side, a door which unlocked, wasn’t going to stop you from looking around. Negan’s community was in some kind of warehouse, huge and industrial, it housed many people; more than your last community. You didn’t see any harm in looking around, seeing exactly what this place was like. Stretching on your tippy-toes you opened the door, peeking out and then walking out into the cold corridor, shutting it with a little click before carrying on your adventure.

Throughout your little adventure, you had to hide, not to be seen or spotted by one of Negan’s men, you didn’t exactly know if you were allowed to just walk around and you didn’t exactly want to find out the answer to that question.

You came to door, the window looking out was shining sunlight, you smiled and pushed it open. The rays of golden light hitting your face instantly, warming you up a little. You walked out and see a line-up of motorcycles, various colours and styles, you also spotted two men with their backs to you. Leather jackets, jeans and talking loudly amongst themselves, you swiftly turned and walked around the corner of the building.

You noticed a tall, caged fencing, with a frown you stepped closer and through the panels of woods that reinforced the fencing you could see movement. You recognised that sound, the sound of growling and frustrated grunts, yet you still looked. It was some kind of obstacle course, various junk was scattered and those people admitted throughout.

Then from the right, suddenly, a man began to violently shake the fencing for attention. His clothes were just sweats, grey with a large ‘H’ spray painted on in yellow. He had this terrified look in his eyes, they were locked on you and he was panting heavily, sweating under the sunlight.

“Little girl,” he rattled the fence. “You gotta help me,” he persisted, “Open the gate, please?”

Stepping back, it made him rattle the fence in frustration. “Why are you in there?”

“Because I tried to leave,” he tells you, “they found me and brought me back here, please. Just open the gate, I gotta get outta here,” he begged and you nodded once but before you can walk a hand is placed on your shoulder.

It’s large and warm, judging by the man’s wide, shocked eyes you know who it is. You look up as Negan is giving a hearty smile to the man behind the fence, you recognise two of the men from a few nights ago beside Negan.

“Well, hello to you too, Bill,” Negan calls out, “I see you met our newest resident, Y/N, I hope you weren’t trying to make her open that gate. Get her in trouble, get her thrown in there with you, I’d hate for another life be on your hands.”

Negan was clean shaven, leather jacket zipped up and the same baseball bat in his left hand, he had a menacing grin plastered on his face. The other guy, behind the fencing, named Bill was clinging to the metal; shaking under Negan’s stare. You could hear the slight rattling of the fence under the white-knuckled tightness of Bill’s hands, you frowned at his terrified eyes, did he actually deserve to be in there?

“Mike, take Bill to his… room, I’ve got to have words with this little sweetie.” Negan grabbed your hand with his right, pulling you a little forcefully away from the caged area and around the building. A few men littered, watching guard and a few working on the massive trucks. “Where’s Mary?” It was a simple question, yet, you didn’t know the answer.

You lightly shrugged, still holding his hand. “I don’t know,” your voice was small and delicate amongst the loud noises around you. “I didn’t intend to get caught, you know,” he let out a loud chuckle at that.

“A little smart ass,” he commented before he stopped walking. “I didn’t put you in Mary’s care for you to wander off and talk to our castaways,” you look over your shoulder, trying to still see where Bill was kept and Negan chuckled. “We survive. We provide security to others. We bring civilisation back to this world. We are the Saviors.” He gestured around, the men all nodding, “And people who don’t abide by the rules, get punished, Bill, didn’t tell you that he ransacked our medicine, and killed three men in the process of him ‘leaving’. Fair punishment, fitting for his crime.”

You were silent for a minute. “Am I going to go in there?”

“No. Unless you break the rules,” he looks down at you. “I get it. You’re adventurous, curious about this place. It’s okay, I just don’t want you running around alone, not a lot of the men here are very forgiving if you get in their way.” You gave a little nod, “you’ll get used to living around here soon enough,” Negan name is then called, “I’ll have someone take you back to Mary’s room. No more wondering without supervision, got it?” You nodded and he did back before walking around you.

Two Days Later

“He has bigger things to worry about than a little girl,” Mary tells you walking through the Sanctuary’s corridors. “He’s busy still proving to everyone around here he’s leader, it’s a climb to get everyone to completely trust you, he has to be seen as alpha around here. He can’t do that with a little girl clawing at his leg, can he?”

Mary was a small, agile women. Blonde hair and kind eyes, it was easy to see why Negan trusted you with her, he passed you off to motherly figure. There probably wasn’t many around and she seemed to be the only one, so far, that wasn’t cold and horrible towards you.

“He’s trying to lead all these people?” You asked walking into the workhouse, she chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah, he has his second in command, Simon.” You remembered Simon, he hadn’t been around much. “Negan has outposts for miles around, a lot of the soldiers are at those with communities of their own. I was at one before this, I was brought here to look after you,” she nudged and you smiled a little.

There were tables all lined up, piles of either food or clothing on them. Mary had explained the point system to you, this was the first time you had seen it played out. It reminded you of the Flea Markets your mother used to take you to before all of this. There was a man dealing with medicine, another women with food and other necessities a human may need.

“Did you used to get allowances?” Mary asked you nodded lightly. “Well, this is that. You earn points and you spend those points on stuff here, it’s pretty simple and easy to follow, you have few that still try to get around the system. It’s our way of life, now yours!”

You followed Mary around as she got food, a few little things that she needed, she was nice enough to get a chocolate bar for you.

“Don’t wonder off, stay where I can see you, kay?” You nodded and walked around the large warehouse room.

The bustling of people, lining up for what they wanted or needed. You slowly strolled around, eating the chocolate, getting bumped into and pushed around because of how small you are. You peeked over a table, smiling at the man sitting behind it, clothes piled on the surface.

“You must be the new resident,” he amused. His ageing face was either due to the torment of today’s problems or just him ageing. “Must be a big change,” he sighed.

You nodded, “It was a lot smaller and I lived in a house,” he nodded, “and everyone shared what was found, you didn’t have to work or earn, it was given.” He perked up at that, “Maybe that’s why it failed?”

“Nonsense,” He smiled. “That sounds like our new worlds, a new paradise,” you chuckled lightly, “Who knows, maybe, one day that will happen here. I’m Martyn.” He sighed but stands up, you frown and turn seeing two of Negan’s men walking over, shoulders tense.

“Leftie,” The bald one called, “Wade needs new jeans, whatcha got?” Not even glancing down at you as he comes around the table, lightly knocking into you.

The man, Martyn, sighed. “Again? That’s his third pair this month,” causing the man beside you to chuckle at that. Martyn shifted through the clothes he had laid out, “in your own time, leftie.” It was only when he struggled to go through the clothes you noticed one arm, the other sleeve was pinned to keep out of the way.

“He’s going as fast as he can,” you speak up with a little frown, Martyn shakes his head at you but you ignore it. Both men look at another with raised eyebrows, “His name is Martyn, not Leftie!”

The shorter one of the two, light red hair, almost blonde knelt down. “Listen, little girl, let the adults take care of this.” He smiled, “Just cause Negan brought you here doesn’t mean you can mouth off, you don’t get no privileges.”

Mary came running up, closing her hands around your shoulder and giving apologetic smiles to both of Negan’s soldiers. “I am so sorry, I told her not to go wandering off,” you looked up at her as she glared down at you but shakes her head.

“Mary, I don’t want to have to tell, Negan, that you can’t handle the child,” He stands up and she nods once. “Teach her some manners, when to keep her little mouth shut, we then won’t have a problem.”

“Y/N,” you tell him and he frowns, “My name is Y/N, you give basic respect, you receive basic respect; what my dad used to say.” Mary chuckles and tucks you under her arm, a little behind her as the man glares at you.

Martyn butts in with handing the jeans, muttering apologies for taking so long. You were glaring at the two men who took the jeans, giving Martyn a few words before turning to Mary, looking her over once. Their scowls made your skin crawl.

“Well, little girl, you’re here because your daddy is dead. Got it? So, whatever that useless fuck taught you are now forgotten. You respect people higher than you, that’s about everyone in this goddamn place, ya hear?” You looked to the floor, the harshness of his words tugging at your heart. Mary gave a disapproving glare to the men.

“She’s a child,” Her voice laced with motherly venom, you had heard your mother talk with the same harshness a few times before.

“No, she ain’t. In this new world, children either get killed or get you killed, don’t let it be the latter Mary, I’d hate to see you killed.” Both men nodded at Martyn, glaring at your silently crying form before leaving.

Mary took you back to her room, wherein she over a few rules to you. Mostly, not talking ANY of Negan’s men unless, completely, necessary. Negan had already said that his men aren’t entirely sympathetic, you just didn’t really think of it till now. She also told you not to go walking around on your own, even Negan said that, but you needed to talk to him.

Mary had given you a brief tour, not that you remembered where everything was, but you had the general direction to Negan’s living quarters. You heard a few female voices, you peeked from behind the wall and see three women talking before walking through a door, you frowned and snuck up behind them.

Pushing the door open silently, it was a big room and it had just those women inside. A bar was settled in the back, lavish chairs and it seemed music was playing, you hadn’t heard actual music in a while.

“Y/N?” A loud voice called your name, it caused the three women to look at you, you gave a shy smile before looking to see Negan walking towards you. “I specifically told you to not wander around alone!”

He stops a little short in front of you, crossing his arms in question. “I wanted to speak with you, I didn’t know how to find you without wandering.”

Instead of answering, he leans forward and pulls the door shut and taking your right hand, again, leading you down the corridor away from the room. He came to a door where he opened it, it was a bedroom, you skipped inside and he chuckled slightly as you sat in one of the armchairs he had settled by the window.

He followed sitting in the opposite one, raising an eyebrow as you looked, incredibly tiny against the overly large chair. “What did you need to talk to me about that couldn’t wait for you to get Mary to bring you to me? Is it about Mary? What’s she like? I’ve known her since the beginning, I figured she’d be good for you. She had two sons; you settling in a’right?”

“Fine, Mary is great, better than most of the people here.” He raised his eyebrows at that, “your men are rude. They treat anyone who is ‘below’ them poorly,” you expected some kind of response but Negan chuckled. You often got that type of response from adults when trying to be serious, often calling you ‘ferocious like a kitten!”

Negan stopped chuckling, “Listen, kid. I get it, you came from a little community that worked like equals, honestly, I wish it could be that way here. But you got to establish that the men who go out and risk their lives for them, for me, even for you now, well yeah; they deserve a new level of respect. The soldiers, my soldiers, are excluded from the point system because they deserve that privilege.”

“But they’re mean for the sake of it,” you frowned a little and Negan sighed.

“I can’t help it if people are sensitive to that,” he shrugs and that made you frown more, “You gotta develop a thicker skin to survive. You gotta work for what you want, work hard in order to get what you need, I can’t always have your back. Mary isn’t gonna always be lookin’ out for you, I’m not either, you can’t just come to me because someone isn’t treating you like a child; you aren’t one, not anymore.”

You remained silent letting his words sink in. You hated to admit it but he seemed right, you couldn’t rely on him nor Mary, plus maybe you were too sensitive. Martyn was a man, you didn’t know and you stuck up for him, he probably doesn’t care about being called ‘Leftie’. You gave a small nod, Negan nodded.

**

After your talk with Negan, you remained quiet when around Negan’s men. You didn’t want to say anything to upset them, yet it seemed you had created a feud, the two soldiers from days ago had a grudge against you. On purposefully knocking into you, telling the workers to only deal with your points when Mary was with you; only Mary was out scavenging with a small group.

It was a problem, a real one. Yet, Negan’s words echoed in your head; you can’t act like a child and go running to him when in need, you had to handle this yourself. So, that’s what you decided to do, it wasn’t going so well.

“Mary is out, I need this now,” You try to sound stern but it comes out more of a plea, the women working the food table, the broth bubbling in the pan gives a sympathetic smile. The soldier, Smith, known by his last name because there are four other John’s was standing with his arm crossed. The shorter one from when you first met Martyn. “I have all the points together, I’ve been helping with laundry, what’s the big deal?” You asked.

“You’re a child, we can’t just give you things because you may or may not have earned it, your guardian has to do that for you.”

“You can’t have it both ways,” he frowns at you, “I’m either a child or not, you can’t tell me one week to learn to be an adult and then today say I can’t buy soup because I am not an adult, so what am I?” Your little rant caused the attention of everyone to turn, you didn’t realise your usually small voice was now a yell.

Smith didn’t like that, he stepped towards you with a new fire in his eyes, the mocking smile he had was now gone and replaced with a sneer. “Listen, you no good cow, you should have died the day Negan brought you here. In fact, he should have left you, but he showed all of us his soft side. No wonder he has to work harder to prove himself, he let a stupid bitch like you live,” you backed up a step, knocking into a table as he continued to stalk to you. “Yeah, nothing to say now, no one to stupidly look out for you too. Look around you, not everyone is gonna wanna save ya, not everyone is as stupid as Negan was on that day.”

“Or compassionate,” you say before you can think. “That’s what makes him good, better than you-”

Before you can finish a force so harsh knocks you off your feet. A deep pain is stinging your cheek, your whole face really, but mostly a burning sensation is stricken on your left side. Tears welling up in your eyes, you look up at Smith who is leering over your body as everyone around is too stunned to move.

“You really, really, shouldn’t have done that Smith.”

(So, long chapter, I know. Hopefully, everyone likes this. Totally am not hinting Mary is Mary Winchester, I kinda am, it’s funny too. Love me. Let me know what you think, that helps me lot. - Rosalee)


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anonymous asked:

Skimmed milk was what they used to give to prisoners and workhouse inmates, to go with their porridge and gruel. It’s a punishment, not a drink. Now there are coffee chains which do not even provide proper milk. And people ask for and seek out this disgusting, skimmed substance, or its close cousin, semi-skimmed milk, turning up their health-snob noses at proper milk. And they are all mad. There are no health benefits from drinking it, unless the shudder you experience as it goes down your thro

this is the best ask i have ever received

anonymous asked:

Why does Ciel dislike philanthropists? He expressed it a few times in BOC but I don't know why and was wondering if you did lol

Hey Anon! 

It’s true that he did, probably because he thinks that it’s all a façade and that these philanthropists only pretend to act like they care when they don’t. That’s Ciel we’re talking about after all and he has a rather negative view on humanity.

…Frankly I can’t blame him though and not just because of what he went through personally as a kid. I mean look at Kelvin:

He was originally one of these philanthropists too

and look what happened (he ended up using all those children he “saved” and at the end no one was left, all destroyed because of him).

….You know, it’s pretty ironic though. Ciel says he hates philanthropists and he also thinks he’s a despicable human being and yet he…

  • Saved Finny and gave him a name and a home
  • Probably gave a home to Bard and Mey too
  • Couldn’t hurt his aunt Red when she almost tried to kill him
  • Gave Mary Jane Kelly decent funerals
  • Was ready to take on Kelvin’s workhouse because of Joker and the others
  • Brought Snake in
  • Ordered Seb to kill all the BDs in the water after the boat sank in order to protect “Lizzie and the other passengers” 
  • Went back to save Harcourt from the BDs at Weston
  • Called out Sieglinde’s mom for being a terrible parent
  • Saved Wolfram for Sieglinde’s sake even though Wolf almost killed him
  • Didn’t give the worst chemical war weapon in history to Victoria even though she basically sent him to Germany for that

All that to say that basically Ciel has a terrible view on human beings (himself included) and doesn’t believe in philanthropy (again I can’t blame him) but he’s himself a contradiction to what he believes to be. 

Anyway, I hope it answers your question! Have a nice day Anon :)

Victorian Era Masterpost

B O O K S

  • Flanders, Judith - The Victorian City
  • Hughes, Kristina - Everyday Life in Regency and Victorian England
  • Jackson, Lee - Daily Life in Victorian London
  • Mayhew, Henry et al - The London Underworld in the Victorian Period
  • Mitchell, Sally - Daily Life In Victorian England
  • Pool, Daniel - What Jane Austin Ate and Charles Dickens Knew
  • Stevens, Mark - Life in the Victorian Assylum

E V E R Y D A Y   L I F E

  • Popular Names in the Victorian Era
  • Cassel’s Household Guide (1869) - basically an instruction manual from 1869 telling you how to do everything from making tea to picking a job.
  • Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management: A Guide to Cookery In All Branches (1907) -  Lots of period recipes, plus information for the Mistress, Housekeeper, Cook, Kitchen-maid, Butler, Footman, Coachman, Valet, Upper and under house-maids, Lady’s-maid, Maid-of-all-work, Laundry-maid, Nurse and nurse-maid, Monthly, wet, and sick nurses, etc.
  • The Victorian Era-Society
  • Appendix D: English Society in the 1840s
  • Class Structure of Victorian England
  • Victorian England Social Hierarchy
  • Social Restrictions in the Victorian Era
  • (Excerpts From) Promises Broken: Courtship, Class, and Gender in Victorian England (Regarding Broken Engagements and Premarital Sex)
  • Five Filthy Things About Victorian England
  • 1841: A window on Victorian Britain
  • The Demography of Victorian England and Wales
  • What was life like for children in Victorian London?
  • Historical Essays: The Victorian Child
  • The Life of Infants and Children in Victorian London
  • The Inequality Between Genders During the Victorian Era in England
  • Women as “the Sex” During the Victorian Era
  • Writers Dreamtools - Decades - 1840
  • Victorianisms – Adventures in Victorian Slang
  • 56 Delightful Victorian Slang Terms You Should Be Using
  • A Dictionary of modern slang, cant and vulgar words (1859)
  • Victorian slang - a guide to sexual Victorian terms
  • A Glossary of Provincial and Local Words Used in England: To which is Now First Incorporated the Supplement, by Samuel Pegge (1839)
  • Anecdotes of the English Language: Chiefly Regarding the Local Dialect of London and Its Environs (1844)
  • British Slang - Lower Class and Underworld
  • Lee Jackson - Dictionary of Victorian London 
  • Domestic Violence in Victorian England
  • The Victorian wife-beating epidemic
  • How to Survive and Thrive in the Victorian Era
  • 19th-century Radiators and Heating Systems
  • The Picture of Dorian Gray; a mirror of the Victorian Era, era of Hypocrisy
  • The Victorian Supernatural
  • Politics of Victorian England
  • Dualism & Dualities - The Victorian Age
  • Black Victorians: History we’ve been taught claims we’ve only ever been slaves
  • Video: Mini-lecture - London’s Black history
  • Flowers - Victorian Bazaar (The Language Of Flowers)
  • Victorian Funeral Customs and Superstitions
  • Racism and Anti-Irish Prejudice in Victorian England

M E D I C I N E  &  I L L N E S S 

  • Victorian Health
  • Medical Developments In Britain During The Nineteenth Century
  • Hospitals
  • The Entire Case Records from a Victorian Asylum Are Now Online
  • Victorian psychiatric patients’ grim fate in hellish 1800s hospitals
  • Locating Convalescence in Victorian England
  • Sanitation and Disease in Rich and Poor
  • 19th Century Diseases
  • Death & Childhood in Victorian England
  • Health and hygiene in the 19th century
  • Disease in the Victorian city: extended version
  • Musing on Illness in the Victorian Era
  • Female hysteria / Vapours
  • Sent to the asylum: The Victorian women locked up because they were suffering from stress, post natal depression and anxiety
  • The History of Women’s Mental Illness
  • Anorexia: It’s Not A New Disease
  • Rebel Girls: How Victorian Girls Used Anorexia to Conform and Revolt
  • Warburg’s tincture
  • Apothecaries and Medicine in the Victorian Era
  • The Creepy Factor in Victorian Medicine
  • Medical Advancements: Victorian Era Prosthetics
  • The Victorian Anti-Vaccination Movement
  • food poisoning in the Victorian era
  • Typhus (Gaol Fever)

L A W ,  G O V E R N M E N T  &  C R I M E

  • Crime in Victorian England
  • The 222 Victorian crimes that would get a man hanged
  • Juvenile crime in the 19th century
  • Victorian women criminals’ records show harsh justice of 19th century
  • Organised Crime in “The Mysteries of London” (1844)
  • Dickens and the ‘Criminal Class’
  • Victorian prisons and punishments
  • Victorian Prison Conditions
  • The Development of a Police Force
  • Life in Nineteenth-Century Prisons as a Context for Great Expectations
  • Gaols
  • Sentences and Punishments
  • Courtroom Experience in Victorian England at the time of Great Expectations
  • Courts of Justice - Victorian Crime and Punishment
  • Victorian Criminal Laws: Barbarism and Progress
  • Child prisoners in Victorian times and the heroes of change
  • Victorian Legislation: a Timeline
  • Women and the Law in Victorian England
  • The Corn Laws
  • The Corn Laws in Victorian England
  • The Anti-Corn-Law League
  • The Corn Laws and their Repeal 1815-1846
  • The Poor Laws During the Victorian Era
  • Private Property and Abuse of Rights in Victorian England
  • Bastardy and Baby Farming in Victorian England
  • Baby Farmers and Angelmakers: Childcare in 19th Century

C L I M A T E ,  W E A T H E R   &   E N V I R O N M E N T

  • The Climate of London (Luke Howard, 1810-1820 - PDF)
  • The Illustrated London Almanack 1847
  • Victorian London - Weather - Fog

F A S H I O N

  • Victorian Fashion Terms A-M
  • Victorian Fashion Terms N-Z
  • Early Victorian Undergarments; an introduction, and about silk
  • Early Victorian Undergarments; Part 1
  • Early Victorian Undergarments; Part 2
  • Early Victorian Undergarments; Part 3
  • 1830s-1840s Underpinnings
  • A Look at an Original 1840s Corded Petticoat
  • Lingerie Guide : Crinoline - Petticoat
  • 1840s Stays
  • Exploring the Myths of Corsets I
  • Exploring the Myths of Corsets II
  • How to Dress a Victorian Lady
  • Pre-Hoop Era 1840-1855
  • 1840s Fashion (Pinterest Board)
  • 1840-1848 - Early Victorian (Pinterest Board)
  • 1840’s fashion (Pinterest Board)
  • 1840’s fashion: men (Pinterest Board)
  • 1840s Fashion (Pinterest Board)
  • 1840s Fashion (Nineteenth Century) (Pinterest Board)
  • 1840’s fashion (Pinterest Board)
  • Mourning Dress During the Early Victorian Era
  • Victoriana Magazine’s Victorian Fashion
  • Early Victorian Women’s Hats; Part 1, concerning bonnets
  • Early Victorian Women’s Hats; Part 2, for sun & riding
  • Early Victorian Women’s Hats; Part 3, wear whatever you like
  • Empire of Shadows - Clothing (Includes very basic information about upper & lower class fashion, military uniforms & undergarments)
  • Women’s Costume - Dickens Fair
  • Victorian Prudes and their Bizarre Beachside Bathing
  • Victorian Feminine Ideal; about the perfect silhouette, hygiene, grooming, & body sculpting
  • Fatal Victorian Fashion and the Allure of the Poison Garment
  • 1840’s Men’s Fashion
  • Gentlemen |  Early & Mid Victorian Era: A Universal Uniform

T R A N S P O R T A T I O N

  • Public transport in Victorian London: Part One: Overground
  • Victorian Public Transport: The Omnibus
  • Omnibus
  • THE HANSOM CAB - A Visitor’s Guide to Victorian England
  • “Growler” and the Handsome Hansom
  • Regency Travel (Earlier than the Victorian era, but still relevant for the earlier years)
  • A Regency Era Carriage Primer
  • The Victorian Thames - River Thames Society [PDF]
  • Nineteenth-Century Ships, Boats, and Naval Architecture (dozens of links to relevant articles)
  • Early Victorian Rail Travel
  • Catching a Train in the Early 1840s
  • HORSES: Matching a Team — Color is Only the Beginning

M O N E Y   A N D   F I N A N C E S

  • British Currency During The Victorian Era
  • Victorian Economics: An Overview
  • Wages, the Cost of Living, Contemporary Equivalents to Victorian Money
  • Victorian Economics: a Sitemap
  • The Cost of Living in 1888
  • Pride and Prejudice Economics: Or Why a Single Man with a Fortune of £4,000 Per Year is a Desirable Husband
  • The Price of Bread: Poverty, Purchasing Power, and The Victorian Laborer’s Standard of Living
  • How a weekly grocery shop would have cost £1,254 in 1862
  • Costs of dying in Victorian and Edwardian England
  • 18th Century Wages (Earlier than the Victorian era, but good reference)
  • Cost of Items 18th Century  (Also earlier than the Victorian era, but good reference)

F O O D  (A N D   L A C K   T H E R E OF)

  • Victorian Dining
  • The Victorian Pantry, Authentic Vintage Recipies
  • Victorian cooking: upperclass dinner
  • For Rich or Poor: Creepy Victorian Food
  • Victorian History: A Fast Food Generation
  • 10 Weird Foods Sold By Victorian Street Vendors
  • Victorian Food For The Rich & Poor Children
  • Dictionary of Victorian London - Food
  • The Lost World of the London Coffeehouse
  • Victorian England: a nation of coffee drinkers
  • London Life: Victorian Coffee Sellers
  • Victorian street food imagined
  • What the Poor Ate
  • Adulteration and Contamination of Food in Victorian England
  • Workhouse Food
  • An Overview of food in 19th Century Gaols
  • Food and Famine in Victorian Literature
  • Milk teeth of Irish famine’s youngest victims reveal secrets of malnutrition

D R U G S   &   D R I N K

  • The Temperance Movement and Class Struggle in Victorian England
  • Gin Palaces - The Victorian Dictionary
  • Alcohol and Alcoholism in Victorian England
  • Drugs in Victorian Britain
  • Cannabis Britannica: The rise and demise of a Victorian wonder-drug
  • Laudanum Use in the 19th Century
  • Victorian Women on Drugs, Part 1: Queen Victoria
  • Victorian Women on Drugs, Part 2: Female Writers
  • Substance Abuse in the Victorian Era
  • Opium Dens and Opium Usage in Victorian England
  • Chinese Opium Trade; as it was in the mid 1800s
  • Poetry, Pain, and Opium in Victorian England

L E I S U R E   &   E N T E R T A I N M E N T

  • Victorian Entertainments: We Are Amused
  • Entertainment in Victorian London
  • Leisure, An Extensive study of the Victorian Era
  • Vauxhall Gardens | Jane Austen’s World
  • Theatre - Victorian Era 1837-1901
  • Almack’s Assembly Rooms
  • The Cannibal Club: Racism and Rabble-Rousing in Victorian England
  • Restaurants - The Victorian Dictionary
  • The Story of Music Hall
  • Sex, Drugs and Music Hall
  • Victorian and Edwardian Public Houses (List, links to relevant articles about each listed pub)
  • Victorian London Taverns, Inns and Public Houses
  • Gambling in Historic England
  • Gambling in London’s Most Ruinous Gentlemen’s Clubs
  • Victorian Sport: Playing by the Rules
  • Seven singular sports from the Victorian era
  • Penny Dreadfuls; the Victorian era adventures for the masses
  • Romantic Era Songs

H O L I D A Y S & C E L E B R A T I O N S

  • A Victorian New Year
  • Fortune Telling for the Victorian New Year
  • Hogmanay: New Year’s Eve, the Scottish Way
  • Victorian Valentine
  • Valentines Day - The Complete Victorian
  • Easter Traditions During the Victorian Era
  • halloween - The Complete Victorian
  • the traditions of halloween
  • Victorian Christmas - History of Christmas
  • Christmas in the Victorian Era

W E A P O N R Y  &  V I O L E N C E

  • The Victorian Gentleman’s Self-Defense Toolkit
  • Early Victorian attitudes towards violent crime
  • Victorian Violence: Repelling Ruffians (Part One)
  • Victorian Violence: Repelling Ruffians (Part Two)
  • Victorian Violence: Repelling Ruffians (Part Three)
  • Victorian Violence, Part Four ~ Elegant Brutality for Ladies and Gentlemen of Discernment
  • 10 Deadly Street Gangs Of The Victorian Era
  • Early Victorian Handguns; Part 1
  • Early Victorian Handguns; Part 2
  • Early Victorian Handguns; Part 3
  • Pistol Duelling during the Early Victorian Era
  • Cane Guns: Victorian Concealed Firearms of Gentlemen & Cads

M A N N E R S   &   E T T I Q U E T T E

  • Manners & Tone of Good Society (This is a Victorian book on manners, written by an unnamed ‘Member Of The Aristocracy,’ and is available in full to read and covers a ton of ground, everything from leaving cards and morning calls to introductions and titles, and etiquette for many different types of parties and events).
  • The Ladies’ Book of Etiquette, and Manual of Politeness: A Complete Hand Book for the Use of the Lady in Polite Society (1875)
  • Manners for the Victorian Gentleman
  • Victorian Dancing Etiquette
  • A Checklist of 19th Century Etiquette
  • Social Rituals During The Victorian Era
  • An Online Dating Guide to Courting in the Victorian Era
  • Calling Cards and the Etiquette of Paying Calls
  • Morning Calls and Formal Visits
  • A Time Traveller’s Guide to Victorian Era Tea Etiquette
  • Traveling Etiquette and Tips for Victorian Women
  • Equestrian Etiquette and Attire in the Victorian Era
  • Etiquette Faux Pas and Other Misconceptions About Afternoon Tea
  • Victorian Table Etiquette
  • Victorian London - Publications - Etiquette and Household Advice Manuals
  • Etiquette Rules for Dinner Parties from a Victorian Magazine
  • The Etiquette of Proper Introductions in Victorian Times
  • Forms Of Introductions And Salutations. Etiquette Of Introductions
  • Etiquette for the Victorian Child
  • Victorian and Edwardian Mourning Etiquette
  • Etiquette Of Carriage-Riding
  • Victorian Etiquette - Shopping

U P P E R C L A S S   &   N O B I L I T Y

  • Royalty, Nobility, Gentry, & Titles; A Matter of Victorian Ranks & Precedence
  • Order of Precedence in England and Wales
  • The Victorian Era - The Debutante Tradition
  • The Gentleman - The Victorian Web 
  • “Coming Out” During the Early Victorian Era; about debutantes
  • The London Season
  • The London Season - The History Box

T H E  M I D D L E C L A S S

  • The middle classes: etiquette and upward mobility
  • The Rise of the Victorian Middle Class
  • The Victorian Man and the Middle Class Household - Domesticity as an Ideal
  • Middle Class Life in the Late 19th Century
  • A Woman ’s World: How Afternoon Tea Defined and Hindered Victorian Middle Class Women
  • Working Women in the Victorian Middle-Class
  • The ASBO teens of Victorian Britain: How middle-class children terrorized parks by shouting at old ladies, chasing sheep and vandalizing trees
  • “A Dangerous Kind:” Domestic Violence and The Victorian Middle Class [PDF]
  • Eligible Bachelors: Suitors and Courtship in the Lower Middle Class

T H E   W O R K I N G C L A S S

  • The working classes and the poor
  • Poverty and the working classes (links to relevant articles)
  • Dirty Jobs of the Victorian Era …
  • The Working-Class Peace Movement in Victorian England
  • Victorian Child Labor and the Conditions They Worked In
  • History of Working Class Mothers in Victorian England
  • Income vs Expenditure in Working-Class Victorian England
  • What about the Workers? - 1830s - 1840s

T H E   S E R V A N T   C L A S S

  • Household management and Servants of the Victorian Era
  • Victorian Domestic Servant Hierarchy and Wages
  • Domestic Servants
  • Serving the house: The cost of Victorian domestic servants
  • Domestic Servants and their Duties
  • Precedence in the Servants Hall
  • The Servant’s Quarters in 19th Century Country Houses Like Downton Abbey
  • The REAL story of Britain’s servant class
  • Servants: A life below stairs
  • The Green Baize Door: Dividing Line Between Servant and Master
  • The Victorian Domestic Servant by Trevor May: A Review

T H E   U N D E R C L A S S  (T H E  P O O R) 

  • The Underclass (or the Submerged Class)
  • Poverty in Victorian England: Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist
  • Down and Out in Victorian London
  • Poverty and the Poor | Dickens & the Victorian City
  • The Victorian Poorhouse
  • Poorhouses
  • Victorian Workhouses
  • Entering and Leaving the Workhouse
  • The Poor Law
  • The Poor Law Amendment Act
  • The New Poor Law - Victorian Crime and Punishment
  • London’s Ragamuffins

I N T E R S E C T I O N A L I T Y (Of Class, Gender, Race, and Ability)

  • Class, Gender, and the Asylum
  • The Impact of Social Class Divisions on the Women of Victorian England
  • The Daily Life of Disabled People in Victorian England

W O R K &

  • Early and Mid-Victorian Attitudes towards Victorian Working-Class Prostitution, with a Special Focus on London
  • Prostitution and the Nineteenth Century: In Search of the 'Great Social Evil’
  • Attitudes toward sexuality and sexual identity
  • Victorian slang - a guide to sexual Victorian terms

O T H E R   M A S T E R P O S T S

  • Writing Research - Victorian Era by ghostflowerdreams
  • How to Roleplay in the Victorian Era by keir-reviews
  • Legit’s Historical Fashion Masterpost by legit-writing-tips
  • Susanna Ives - Many Research Links (covers Regency Era - Victorian Era)
We are not among those communists who are out to destroy personal liberty, who wish to turn the world into one huge barrack or into a gigantic workhouse. There certainly are some communists who, with an easy conscience, refuse to countenance personal liberty and would like to shuffle it out of the world because they consider that it is a hindrance to complete harmony. But we have no desire to exchange freedom for equality. We are convinced that in no social order will freedom be assured as in a society based upon communal ownership.
—  The Communist League (a few months after Marx and Engels joined and told them to rid themselves of their “superstitious authoritarianism”), Die Kommunistische Zeitschrift (September, 1847)
Bread and Roses

An internet rabbithole, as they go.

Not long ago I watched the film Pride (set largely in 1984 Wales), and there was a scene where the community hall broke into the song Bread and Roses.  I was on a plane, otherwise I’d probably have googled it.

I was looking at some labor history links today after looking at some titles on Scribd and came across this by the Labor Education Service from the University of Minnesota: there again, Bread and Roses (1912, far from Wales).

So now, reading the lyrics and looking up the strike and the song both, this is how we get the name Rose Schneiderman - who coined the phrase that was turned into a slogan, poem and song.

All of this to say that I was moved by a speech from Rose herself, in the wake of the famous Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire.  Thank you wikipedia for that.  And now perhaps I ought to find more to read of hers, but that is the beauty of internet rabbitholes, there is always more to read:

“I would be a traitor to these poor burned bodies if I came here to talk good fellowship. We have tried you good people of the public and we have found you wanting. The old Inquisition had its rack and its thumbscrews and its instruments of torture with iron teeth. We know what these things are today; the iron teeth are our necessities, the thumbscrews are the high-powered and swift machinery close to which we must work, and the rack is here in the firetrap structures that will destroy us the minute they catch on fire.

This is not the first time girls have been burned alive in the city. Every week I must learn of the untimely death of one of my sister workers. Every year thousands of us are maimed. The life of men and women is so cheap and property is so sacred. There are so many of us for one job it matters little if 146 of us are burned to death.

We have tried you citizens; we are trying you now, and you have a couple of dollars for the sorrowing mothers, brothers and sisters by way of a charity gift. But every time the workers come out in the only way they know to protest against conditions which are unbearable the strong hand of the law is allowed to press down heavily upon us.

Public officials have only words of warning to us – warning that we must be intensely peaceable, and they have the workhouse just back of all their warnings. The strong hand of the law beats us back, when we rise, into the conditions that make life unbearable.

I can’t talk fellowship to you who are gathered here. Too much blood has been spilled. I know from my experience it is up to the working people to save themselves. The only way they can save themselves is by a strong working-class movement.”


—Rose Schneiderman

Colors (Part 18) [Min Yoongi x Reader]

Genre: Gang - Mafia AU || Angst (m) 

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 /Part 11 / Part 12/ Part 13  / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17/ Park 18 /Part 19

Originally posted by bwipsul



The stillness of the night was an early indicator of the storm that was brewing

We all sit in knee deep silence; eyes shifting from one face to another, conveying messages that the mouth, otherwise, was too reluctant to speak. The air grows thicker as time drags on. With each passing minute you could feel it clogging your wind pipe – making it harder and harder to breathe. You couldn’t see it but there it stood, right in the middle of the room, everyone else must’ve sensed it too – the tension that was growing bigger and bigger – feeding on those around.

For some, it was ‘dread’ of harsh consequences, a bitter fruit of the seed they sowed for themselves. For others ‘shame’ brought on by guilt that forced them to hang their heads low. And for the likes of you, it was pity, which poured out of the heart but all in vain. 

But worst of all was the ‘hurt’ that you saw, pain that reflected in eyes that must’ve been once blindly veiled in trust. ‘Treachery’ scribbled all over the soul with permanent marker that no amount of loyalty could wash away.  

The night hadn’t ended yet.                                     

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

top 10 Kim Daily? I need Kim Daily in my life

Top 10 Kim Daily 2k15

1. Because that sun and that city is my kind of Namjoon aesthetic.

2. Because Namjoon dimples + B&W + hotel beds, I’m not okay.

3. Because this is either ‘I’m a drugged rapper’ look or ‘I gave up on how I look for college lectures 4 months ago’ and I love them both.

4. Because this is where you get lost under the city lights and Namjoon takes you on an adventure and you better believe you aren’t going home without a kiss goodbye.

5. Because beanies and black and Namjoon should get married now.

6. HEADBAND + ARM MUSCLES NAMJOON ARMY FAM ARE YALL SEEING THIS OMG

7. Because aesthetic game was stronger than Jimin’s vocals.

8. Because Namjoon + Miles Teller is heaven. Also, this song is my JAM.

9. Grey aesthetic aka. Namjoon why are you at a workhouse? aka Namjoon, can I get lost in your drawstrings? 

10. This, because smiling Namjoon in hotel hallways and those legs and I don’t know what’s the most distracting thing in this picture.

Bonus : PinkMon. Because every Namjoon post needs one. what? a post without pinkmon? lmao bitch you thought

anonymous asked:

So, something steam punky but still with ships and blasters and such with bodyguard ObiWan for royal QuiGon and his son Anakin? Yay or Nay?

The bastard child who became a pauper, the pauper who became a fighter, the fighter who became a soldier, the soldier who became a captain, the captain that became infamous, the infamous that became a legend, the legend who bowed for an Emperor and swore his eternal service after clearing his name, the servant who found peace.

Obi-Wan had been all of those.

Born from a teenager mother by an unknown father, put in a workhouse only to be kicked out at thirteen, surviving on the streets by fighting until he could enlist in the army where his capabilities with a sword gained him both renown and attention to become a personal guard to many lords and ladies until he was accused of murdering one of them for personal gain which gained him the unfortunate rumor that still swirled around him about attempted regicide and that his original goal had been the Emperor and his son.

Obi-Wan had not despaired though, he had fought, he had fought so hard and he had won, found the true perpetrators behind the plot and presented the evidence to Emperor Jinn himself during the middle of a banquet, the actual perpetrators picking the wrong scapegoat.

Oh the artists still painted the scene he knew.

Him with his foot on Lady Cavendish shoulder to keep her in her place, his blaster at Lord Nurma’s head, his face set in a placid mask with blood on his vest as he stood in front of the Emperor himself.

Gingerly Obi-Wan brushed his hand against his stomach.

The blood had been his own, neither the lady or the lord had come quietly after all.

And that hag had known how to hurt someone.

And then Jinn had reached out to him, a broad hand on a scruffy face that was coated in dirt and blood and smiled gently down at the young man. ‘I believe you.’

The words had been gentle, had almost cut Obi-Wan’s legs beneath him.

He couldn’t actually remember much after that except for bowing for the Emperor and giving his loyalty to the man and his family.

He had…fainted after that.

The Emperor still laughed about it sometimes late at night, two fingers into a whiskey bottle with his collar open to expose a bit of collarbone to a highly appreciative bodyguard.

Well technically speaking his title was His Royal Protector.

Blahblah Obi-Wan’s foot up someones ass.

He leaned forward on the balcony of his room, staring out over the ocean as the breeze lightly ruffled his hair. Three years of safety, three years of knowing his place, of getting on first name basis with the Emperor and his son, but only in private.

Three years of…

He closed his eyes, his lips twitching faintly as he tilted his head.

A sword rested on his shoulder, the edge close to his neck.

Yet all Obi-Wan could do was chuckle quietly. “And what can I do for you, the illustrious star crown-prince?” He teased gently.

“Blasted, you heard me coming in didn’t you.” Came the sigh behind him and the sword fell away.

Obi-Wan straightened and turned around, smile on his lips still as he looked up at the taller blond. Three years had certainly given the now nineteen year old a slightly longer and broader frame then the scrawny sixteen year old Obi-Wan had woken up to at his bedside with blue eyes full of awe.

Anakin Skywalker was tall, dressed in black leather pants with black knee height boots, rich red shimmersilk shirt with a black vest over covered in tiny gems that caught the light and sparkled.

Hmm, Amidala must be here, she and his father was the only one who could get Anakin to dress so fancily.

“Indeed. The door creaks ever so slightly but it was a good attempt my prince.” Obi-Wan chuckled. “Had it been anyone else they would have been caught off guard.” He added to sooth any straining tempers.

Anakin however only sighed then smiled at him. “Father wants to talk to you, I think its about his coming birthday and the celebrat-hey, you have new earrings.” The young man reached out, fingers brushing the black little circles that hung in Obi-Wan’s ears, the metal black and seemingly unremarkable compared to the golden ones that usually hung in the redhead’s ears. Copper strands brushed at tan skin as Obi-Wan blinked back.

“Ah, yes, they were a gift from your father, his highness.” Obi-Wan drew back a bit.

Well that explained why the beige and brown clothed man was wearing the black earrings in front of his golden ones.

Anakin ruthlessly squashed the jealousy curling in his stomach, it was just a simple gift really and smiled instead, nodding. “Well then, you best not keep father waiting. He’s in his study.”

Obi-Wan gave an elegant, sloping bow before smiling warmly at Anakin and moving around him through his bedroom and out to the study.

Anakin watched him go then followed, hesitating a bit by the bed to brush his fingers against the still mussed up bedspread, imagining how Obi-Wan must have looked asleep and unassuming before he followed out and closed the door behind him.

Quietly he watched the other go until the man disappeared around the corner, taking in the almost thigh high brown boots that made next to no noise as Obi-Wan walked on stone floor, the tight dark leggings that formed around his body and finished off with a cotton shirt in cream beige and a darker brown vest over that.

Force how Anakin wanted to pull the others hair out of the nerf tail it was usually caught in and muss it up, watch the flush spread on the others cheeks.

Pipe dreams.

He grumbled a bit then headed towards his own rooms.

Honestly he felt ridiculous in this vest and Obi-Wan hadn’t even seemed impressed. Time to slip into something comfortable and go piloting.

Joker Facts!

Name: Joker
Height: unknown. taller than Beast, shorter than Sebastian.
Age: 25
🎪His true name is unknown to even shinigami.
🎪 He was the son of a prostitute.
🎪 He was born without his right arm.
🎪 He, like the other first-stringers, worked in Renbourn Workhouse.
🎪Joker acts as the ringleader of the circus.
🎪 His hair is dyed orange.
🎪 When tending to Baron Kelvin, he appears to take the role of a butler.
🎪 He assigned the first-stringers’ stage names.
🎪 He seems to have a particularly close bond with Doll.
🎪 His mother’s name was Karen Taylor.
🎪 His prosthetic requires more upkeep than the rest of the troupe’s, primarily due to it’s tricky design.
🎪He appears to have known quite a but about Ciel Phantomhive, as he relayed information of his supposed death to Kelvin, as well as later information as to his possession by the cult.
🎪 Joker insisted on scouting Sebastian, after seeing him defend himself from attacks by both Beast and Dagger in the medical tent.
🎪 While Joker’s morals remain ambiguous, kidnapping children seemed to hardly perturb him. This is directly contrary to his reaction to finding his prosthetic had been made from the bones of said children.
🎪 Joker’s manner of speaking is meant to be unique amongst the characters, it is Cockney English.

fanfiction.net
The Workhouse Chapter 3: Scotland, a downton abbey fanfic | FanFiction

An edited, expanded chapter in which Elsie travels home to Scotland.


Excerpt:

She’s not been able to catch one wink on the train. Her head against the glass of the window, Elsie watches the countryside pass by in the distance. It’s seems an age since she’s been home and in the bosom of the Highlands. While she’s changed so much and she wonders if Argyll has changed, then she shakes her head and bites back a sad smile at her own foolishness. The land doesn’t change. Rolling hills don’t move and Loch Fyne is still bountiful with oyster, herring, and blue whiting. Sheep still trod over green pastures and wheat and grasses are still harvested. The river that flows beside the magnificent Duneagle Castle is still crystal clear and as unspoiled as the first day water began coursing along its banks.
Fathers and mothers still hold their bairns close and tell them the lore of the land; they tell them of William Wallace and how he lead the revolt against the brutal tyranny of the invaders from the south. They tell them of fairies and sprites that hide among the hills and sea creatures that live beneath the deep waters of the lochs. No, she thinks, the land, the countryside, doesn’t change. Much.

Culinary History (Part 21): Ovens

Benjamin Thompson (1753-1814, Count Rumford) was a physicist & inventor who worked to improve English kitchens.  He was not pleased at all with their design, both in terms of health and economics.  In the 1790’s, he wrote, “More fuel is frequently consumed in a kitchen range to boil a tea-kettle than, with proper management, would be sufficient to cook a dinner for fifty men.”

He didn’t think it was worth it for the roast meat that England was famous for, and complained that English cooks had neglected the art of making of “nourishing soups and broths”.  The main problem, he said, was that the hearth was open.

At this time, the typical English kitchen had a very long range (because of all the pots that had to be put on the fire).  This meant that a huge, very tall chimney was needed, wasting fuel and making the kitchen extremely hot and constantly smoky.  There were also cold draughts by the chimney.

To solve this problem, Rumford built invented his own custom-built closed range, which he installed in the House of Industry in Munich (i.e. the workhouse).  It used far less fuel.

Rumford’s range had many small enclosed fires, instead of one large fire.  Each pot had its own separate, closed fireplace.  The fireplaces were built with bricks (for good insulation), had a door to shut them, and each had their own individual canal which took the smoke into the chimney.

But while Rumford’s design was a major improvement, it never caught to a wide audience.  Part of the problem was that ironmongers (the main producers of cooking apparatus at the time) didn’t want to sell it, because it was made from bricks and not iron.  (Later on, various “Rumford stoves” would be marketed and sold, but with no connection to the original.)

But it wasn’t just a marketing issue.  People hate change, and they were determined to stick to the old ways.  The English believed that open fires roasted, and bread ovens baked.  You couldn’t mix the two together.  In 1838, Mary Randolph said, “No meat can be well-roasted except on a spit turned by a jack, and before a clear, steady fire – other methods are no better than baking.”

Inventors kept working on spit-jacks for ages.  In 1845, a patent was taken out for an electrically-propelled spit-jack, using two magnets. Even in 1907, the Skinners’ Company in London had a 3.3m-wide roasting range in the Guildhall kitchen.  Progress was not so easily won.

Baking vs. Roasting

In the Middle East, this baking/roasting division did not exist.  The Arabic word khubz means “bread”, and from this comes the verb khabaza, which means “to bake/make khubz”. But it can also mean “to grill” or “to roast”.

Mesopotamian bread ovens have been found dating back to 3000 BC (modern-day Pakistan, Syria, Iran & Iraq).  They are round cylinders, made of clay.  A fire is lit in the bottom of the cylinder; then dough is lowered through a hole in the top and slapped on the inside of the oven.  A few minutes later, it has baked into flatbread, and is lifted out again.

These clay ovens are still used today in the Middle East, Central & South-East Asia, and in many rural areas in African countries.  It is called a tandoor.  Many other things are cooked in it, not just bread.

The tandoor cooks with intense, dry baking heat.  Even poor households used them to bake bread.  In Amarna (an Ancient Egyptian village from 1350 BC), half of the labourers’ houses showed traces of a tandoor.  Unlike in medieval Europe, where it was believed that the only real bread was professionally baked, home-made bread was the preference.  In medieval Baghdad, a marketplace inspector once remarked that “most people avoid eating bread baked in the market.”

Like the portable braziers of Ancient Greece, the tandoor was portable, and far better than building a fire in the hearth.  They were also cheap.  An “eye” at the bottom of the cylinder gave control over the level of heat, by opening & shutting.  For example, a round Iraqi water-bread coated in sesame oil would be cooked in a moderate heat, but other breads needed extreme heat.  The fuel is burned directly inside the tandoor, on the bottom, so temperatures can reach up to 480°C (most domestic ovens can only get up to 220°C).

The tandoor wasn’t just used for baking – it was also used for stewing, and for roasting as well.  In the West, tandoori chicken (chicken marinated in yoghurt & red spices) is well-known, and it is cooked in a tandoor.

In Baghdad in the 900’s AD, the tandoor’s roasting capabilities were mostly used for “fatty whole lamb or kid – mostly stuffed…big chunks of meat, plump poultry or fish.”  These were either laid on flat brick tiles, which were arranged on the fire; or put on metal skewers and lowered in from the top.

There are three different types of cooking heat.  In all of them (as physics requires), heat moves from the hotter area/object to the cooler one.

Radiant heat is used for grilling.  It’s like when you put your hand above a heater, without touching it: the heat blasts out from it and warms your hand without you even needing to touch it.  No contact is needed.  A red-hot fire gives plenty of radiant heat from the flames and embers.

Conduction works through direct touch, from one object to another.  This is like touching the heater, instead of putting your hand above it.  Metals are excellent conductors; brick, wood and clay are poor conductors. For cooking, conduction is the type of heat transfer when you put a piece of meat in a pan.

Convection happens within a gas/liquid.  The hot parts of the gas/liquid are less dense than the cool ones, but gradually it evens out (for density and temperature).  This is like the heat of the heater spreading gradually through the room.  For cooking, convection happens when cooking porridge or boiling water.

While any cooking method will use a combination of these forms of heat transfer, one will usually dominate, and it is this which makes the tandoor unusual – it uses all three at the same time.  Radiant heat from the fire below, and from the hot clay walls; conduction from the clay to the bread, or the metal skewers to the meat; and convection within the hot air circulating in the tandoor. This is what makes this oven so versatile.

The old Western ovens were basically brick boxes.  They used both about 20% radiation and 80% convection.  Instead of the constant intense heat of the tandoor, their fire started off fierce (radiation) but then cooled down gradually, and convection took over.  In fact, the food didn’t even usually get put in until the fire had cooled down.

Over the centuries, cooking methods evolved to make the best use of this type of heat transfer.  Food was cooked in order – bread when the oven was hottest; then stews, pastries and puddings; herbs might be left to dry in it overnight, when the oven was barely warm.

In ancient & medieval times, bread ovens were huge, communal affairs.  A manor/monastery kitchen had massive equipment to match the ovens – wooden spoons as big as oars; massive trestle tables to knead the dough on.

Bundles of fuel (wood/charcoal) were heaved into the back of the oven, taken from stoking sheds outside, and then fired up.  When the oven was hot, the ashes were raked out into the stoking sheds.  Then the dough was shoved in on peels – extremely long wooden spoons.  Bakers worked almost naked because of the heat, like the turnspits.

By the 1700’s, baking equipment included wooden kneading troughs; pastry jaggers; hoops & traps for tarts & pies; peels; patty pans; wafer irons; earthenware dishes.

Baking oven & kneading trough.

Pastry jagger (American, 1800-50).

Peels in a medieval baker shop.

Modern patty pans.

Wafer iron (Italian, 1500′s).

Royal kitchen at St. James’ Palace (1819).  There is an open-grate fire for roasting (back right); a closed oven for baking (front right); and a raised brick hearth for stewing & sauces (front left?)  Each type of cooking was separate.

The Oven

It wasn’t just the baking/roasting division that hindered the adoption of ovens.  A fire is homey and comforting, and people were unsure about centering their home around an enclosed fire instead of an open one.  Stoves were introduced in America during the 1830’s, but people said that they might be fine for heating public places such as bars or courthouses, but not their homes.

But they got used to it eventually.  The “model cookstove” became the new focus of the home, and it was one of the great “consumer status symbols of the industrial age”.

The Victorian stove was a large, unwieldy cast-iron contraption.  It had a hot-water tank for boiling; hotplates to put pots & pans on; a coal-fired oven closed with iron doors; and “complicated arrangements of flues, their temperature controlled by a register and dampers” linking all the parts together.

By the mid-1800’s, the “kitchener” was the essential object in an American or British middle-class kitchen.  And like the home, the kitchen was now centered around the stove, instead of around the fire.

At Britain’s Great Exhibition of 1851, the Improved Leamington Kitchener won first prize of all the kitcheners on display.  It used a single fire to combine roasting and baking.  A wrought-iron roaster with dripping-pan was inside, but by closing the back valves, it could be turned into a baking oven.  And it could provide the household with gallons of boiling water – for a kitchener wasn’t just for cooking, but also for warmth and hot water, and also for heating up irons.

The Leamington range was one of the first pieces of cooking equipment to become a household name in Britain.  It ended up being used to refer to closed ranges in general.  There were many other competing models, such as the Coastal Grand Pacific and the Plantress.

The fancier stoves were as much about fashion as they were about practicality.  But it wasn’t just about “keeping up” with everyone else.  Part of the reason for the stove’s popularity was the Industrial Revolution, which created a coal & iron boom, and flooded the market with cheap cast iron.  Ironmongers loved this type of stove (unlike Rumford’s brick stove) because it was made almost entirely out of iron, and so were its accessories.  And new versions were always coming out, so they were constantly selling new stoves, as people wanted the latest ones.

Back in the mid-1700’s, a new method of cast-iron production had been discovered, which used coal instead of charcoal.  John “Iron-Mad” Wilkinson’s invention of the steam engine pushed production even further.  A generation later, cast iron was everywhere.  And kitcheners also supported the coal industry, because they were almost all coal-fired (rather than wood, peat or turf).

Coal wasn’t a new fuel for kitchens.  The first “coal revolution” happened back in the mid-1500’s because of a wood shortage.  Industry expanded rapidly during the 2nd half of the 1500’s, and timber was essential for the production of glass, iron and lead.  Timber was also required for ship-building (the English were at war with the Spanish at that time).  So there was less wood for kitchens, and many converted to “sea-coal” (called that because it was brought by sea), albeit reluctantly.

In rural areas, the wood fire was still used, and the poorer folk in the city and countryside made do with whatever fuel they could find.

The switch to coal changed the way open hearths were set up.  Previously, the kitchen fire had really been a bonfire, with andirons or brandirons to stop the burning logs from rolling out onto the floor. And that was all.  It was dreadfully dangerous.

A Saxon archbishop in the 600’s AD said that “if a woman place her infant by the hearth, and the man put water in the cauldron, and it boil over and the child be scalded to death, the woman must do penance for her negligence but the man is acquitted of blame.”  The open fire was especially dangerous for toddlers, and also women, because of their clothes.  Medieval coroners’ reports show that women were more at risk for accidental death at home than anywhere else.

Kitchen fires were common, because houses were made of wood.  The Great Fire of London was caused by a kitchen fire at Pudding Lane.  The city was rebuilt with brick, and the new houses had coal-burning grates.

With coal, a container or improved barrier was needed, to stop it going everywhere.  A metal grate was used to solve the problem, called a “chamber grate” or “cole baskett”.  Now the open fires were slightly more enclosed, and a bit safer.

More kitchen equipment was needed.  A cast-iron fireback protected the wall from the fierce heat of the fire.  Fire cranes swung pots over the fire, and off it.

Firebacks (Victorian & 1300′s).

The biggest change was the chimney.  In the 2nd half of the 1500’s, more chimneys were built.  Because of the disgusting coal fumes, wider chimneys were needed to carry away the smoke.  The increased levels of smoke may have contributed to the high incidence of lung disease among the English.  It was certainly terrible for people’s health.

Back to the Victorian kitcheners.  While it was a technological improvement, it wasn’t much of an improvement in terms of practicality.  Many of the early cookstoves were poorly-constructed and gave off terrible coal fumes, unlike Rumford’s ideal stov.  A letter to The Expositor in 1853 called them “poison machines”, and spoke of three people who had recently died from the fumes.

And they were inefficient, too.  American promoters claimed that they saved 50-90% on fuel (compared to an open hearth), but a great deal of heat was wasted.  The problem with stoves being made of iron was that they weren’t insulated (again, unlike Rumford’s stove).  Lots of heat was being radiated out into the kitchen, and the cook had to deal with not only that, but also the soot and ash dust.

The kitchener certainly wasn’t labour-efficient.  In fact, it was often worse than an open hearth in this case.  Getting the fire going was just as difficult, and polishing & cleaning the range took ages. In 1912, the wife of a policeman listed her daily duties for the range (excluding the actual cooking):

  • Remove fender and fire-irons.
  • Rake out all the ashes and cinders; first throw in some damp tea-leaves to keep down the dust.
  • Sift the cinders.
  • Clean the flues.
  • Remove all grease from the stove with newspaper.
  • Polish the steels with bathbrick and paraffin.
  • Blacklead the iron parts and polish.
  • Wash the hearthstone and polish it.

The real improvement would be the gas oven.

atratum  asked:

as always: miranda

Headcanon A: what I think realistically

Thomas had a thousand causes, and he believed in all of them passionately. He would restore Nassau, create a productive and prosperous colony out of chaos and violence, and he would do it without bloodshed, and without slave labor, and when Nassau was a pearl in the English crown and Thomas its governor he would use it as a bargaining chip for the brawl he was dying to have in Parliament and force the abolition of the slave trade in the Empire. He argued for humane treatment of the mad, for a thorough overhaul of the English workhouse, for war with the Spanish and a complete undoing of modern sodomy laws. 

Miranda organized his salons. She ordered the food, made certain there were adequate supplies of fine coffee and finer wine, comfortable seating for the men and women that Thomas needed to impress. She attended dinners at the houses of acquaintances she despised, in order that she might smile at the right man at the right moment, whisper something in his ear over piquet, and a week later that man would find himself agreeing to vote with Thomas, without ever meaning to. She acted as Thomas’s secretary, on occasion, when the clerk she hired for him had been sent home to eat and rest but Thomas was still on fire at three in the morning. She ordered him tea, raised her eyebrows at him until he drank it, and then helped him talk through his plan while copying out the letters he needed sent by special messenger as soon as the clock struck seven. 

“You are wonderfully loyal,” Lady Douglas told her after one of Thomas’s best and most persuasive evening salons, sipping the amber tokay Miranda had selected the day before. “We all know, Mrs. Hamilton, there must be no better helpmeet than yourself. But can you truly believe in your husband’s ideas?”  
 
Miranda was startled into a laugh. “But they are our ideas,” she said.  

Headcanon B: what I think is fucking hilarious

It took her six months to become a competent medic. Three years before she learned to bake bread without burning it. 

“You’ll master it,” James told her, choking down the blackened bread she flung onto the table with an unconvincing smile. “It just takes time.” 

James knew how to cook when she met him. How to pluck a chicken, how to season pork, how to expertly gut a fish and slice its white flesh off the bone. He was a favorite of the cook’s as a cabin boy on the Reliant, and apparently never forgot his lessons. He tried teaching her between voyages, but all her attempts came out hopeless, over-salted and under-cooked and singed at the edges. And then he’d leave again, so she never had time to properly learn.

“My table was once the envy of London, you know,” Miranda said in a dark way, as James faithfully dug into a meat pie she wouldn’t serve a dog. “I tripled my cook’s salary after stealing her from Lady Dalrymple.” 

“This isn’t half bad,” James insisted, taking a valiant swallow. He blanched a little in the aftermath, and she sighed, passed him the bottle of cheap grog he’d brought with him off the ship. 

“You’re very loyal,” she said with tired fondness, watching him gulp at the bottle. “For a black-hearted villain.” 

He put the bottle down at last. “But your black-hearted villain,” he said, and scrubbed at his mouth. 

Headcanon C: what is heart-crushing and awful but fun to inflict on friends

She once dreamed of finding Thomas in a field. 

It wasn’t prophecy. She worked hard on her land that summer, laboring until she was light on her feet, grimly determined that this miserable place would yield up something she could goddamn well use

It wasn’t at all surprising that the weeds and the hoe and the horrible heat and the relentless ache in her spine followed her into sleep. In the dream, she was working at a fresh-turned row of good black dirt, wheat growing tall around her, rustling in the wind, and her hoe struck at something in the dirt that echoed strangely in her hands. She dropped the hoe, and saw that there was a great pile of earth mounded in her way, almost like a new grave. She dropped to her knees and shoveled the earth with her hands. In this way she recovered Thomas, pink and alive, the dirt falling away from his well-loved face. He smiled at her, sat up from his grave, and wrapped her sun-burned aching self in his arms. 

“I was waiting for you,” he murmured into her hair, familiar and kind and again the person she loved most in the world.  “Waiting so long.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her throat hurting with sincerity. 

“Don’t be,” he said, and smiled Thomas’s smile. “You found me.” 

She woke up next to James, his body unbearably hot beside hers in the summer night around them, and jerked out of bed. She spent the rest of the night on the porch, looking out at her dark garden. 

Headcanon D: what would never work with canon but the canon is shit so I believe it anyway

“You will not promise him anything, James,” she says, her voice trembling, “until you can explain to me how you acquired that clock.”

“Mrs. Hamilton,” Peter says, and there is something in his voice that gives her pause, makes her heart pulse hard in her neck and wrists. “May I speak with you alone, for a moment.” 

James doesn’t want to let her go, but she persuades him. Promises she’ll be perfectly safe. 

In his study, Peter cuts off her accusation by handing her a letter. It’s in Thomas’s hand. 

“Look at the date,” Peter says. 

She looks at the date. She looks up at Peter in blank horror. 

“James has to pay for his sins,” Peter says softly. “But when he has–Miranda. I could bring him home to you.” 

“You’re lying,” she says, her voice thick with betrayal. All these years, she thought he was dead–that he had died alone, somewhere cold and dark. “This is a trick, your only hope I’ll forgive your treachery.” 

“Read the letter,” Peter says, drawing back to the door of the study. “Then decide.” 

It’s from Thomas. It’s Thomas’s signature, Thomas’s words, Thomas’s sentences that she thought she’d never see again. She clutches the letter like it’s a fucking lifeline, like it’s Thomas’s hand in hers at last, and tries to decide which husband to be faithful to. 

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→ historical figures: Charlie Chaplin

Sir Charles Spencer “Charlie” Chaplin was an English comic actor, filmmaker, and composer. Chaplin’s childhood in London was one of poverty and hardship. As his father was absent and his mother struggled financially, he was sent to a workhouse twice before the age of nine. When he was 14, his mother was committed to a mental asylum. Chaplin began performing at an early age, touring music halls and later working as a stage actor and comedian. At 19, he was signed to the prestigious Fred Karno company, which took him to America. Chaplin was scouted for the film industry and began appearing in 1914 for Keystone Studios. He soon developed the Tramp persona and formed a large fan base. Chaplin directed his own films from an early stage and continued to hone his craft as he moved to the Essanay, Mutual, and First National corporations. By 1918, he was one of the best-known figures in the world. In 1919, Chaplin co-founded the distribution company United Artists, which gave him complete control over his films. Chaplin wrote, directed, produced, edited, starred in, and composed the music for most of his films. He was a perfectionist, and his financial independence enabled him to spend years on the development and production of a picture. His films are characterised by slapstick combined with pathos, typified in the Tramp’s struggles against adversity. Many contain social and political themes, as well as autobiographical elements. In 1972, as part of a renewed appreciation for his work, Chaplin received an Honorary Academy Award for “the incalculable effect he has had in making motion pictures the art form of this century”. He continues to be held in high regard, with The Gold Rush, City Lights, Modern Times, and The Great Dictator often ranked on industry lists of the greatest films of all time. X

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On this day in music history: July 5, 1993 - “Debut”, the debut solo album by Björk is released. Produced by Nellee Hooper and Björk, it is recorded at Wild Bunch Studios, Olympic Studios, The Town House, Livingston Studios, Matrix Studios, Swanyard Studios, The Workhouse Studios, Beats Recording Studio, and Summa Studios in London, UK from Early - Mid 1993. After five years and three albums as the lead singer of The Sugarcubes, Björk parts ways with the band in late 1992 following the release of “Stick Around For Joy”, and touring as the opening act for U2 on the first leg of their “Zoo TV World Tour”. This is the Icelandic artists first solo effort since recording her self-titled debut released in 1977 when she is only twelve years old. For her first adult solo album, Björk enlists the assistance of Massive Attack and Soul II Soul producer Nellee Hooper to co-produce the project. Björk will write or co-write ten of the albums eleven songs, with many of them having been composed years before being recorded. Musically, it differs noticeably from her previous work with The Sugarcubes. Initially, she wants to record the songs with jazz musicians and arranged in that style, but changes her mind after discussing it with Hooper. 808 State keyboardist Graham Massey, who also works on the project and a major influence on the shifting musical direction of the album toward trip hop, drum and bass, and house music. As a result, Massey becomes an important and frequent collaborator with Björk on the album, and in the years to come. The resulting work is well received by the public, and is praised for its stylistic diversity and fearless experimentation. It spins off five singles including “Human Behaviour” (#2 Modern Rock, #2 Club Play), “Venus As A Boy” (#29 UK), and “Big Time Sensuality” (#5 Modern Rock, #1 Club Play). The album is reissued as a DualDisc in 2006, featuring the original stereo mix on the red book CD side. The DVD-A contains all five of the music videos for the singles, and 5.1 Dolby Digital and DTS surround mixes of the original album. It is most recently reissued as a 180 gram vinyl LP in 2015. “Debut” peaks at number three on the UK album chart, number sixty one on the Billboard Top 200, and is certified Platinum in the US by the RIAA.