#poor law

[eightringsofsaturn]

A moment of silence for Law's sanity

[jake-is-screaming-in-tune]

[holyfandango]

this two pictures were near at my gallery lmao

[andreawritesit]

[jadedrrose]

Might sell more of my Law figures to afford more babymetal merch……

[tenth-sentence]

The old system of landed peasantry was abolished so that a class of incredibly wealthy people could eat larks' tongues and saffron.

"Country: Future Fire, Future Farming" - Bill Gammage and Bruce Pascoe

[whats-in-a-sentence]

To be an apprentice in eighteenth-century England, especially one of the increasing number of children legally kidnapped from their parents by the poor laws, was to be in a state of short-term slavery: servitude, bound for seven years to a master, unpaid and exposed to criminal cruelty.

"Normal Women: 900 Years of Making History" - Philippa Gregory

[zelamorre]

Doyle Canon: This is Dr. John Watson. He has managed to have multiple love affairs on three different continents. He is a love machine. A sex god, if you will. Able to woo multiple Victorian ladies.

80% of Sherlock Holmes Adaptations: This is Dr. John Watson. He looks like a hamster.

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [9]

Danny doesn't remember much of what happened after his fight with Pariah. he knows the suit nearly killed him. 

He knew he passed out after and had to be carried back.

But considering the fact that the sky is blue and he's in his bedroom it was pretty safe to say that it was a classic case of a job well done and everything was back to normal.

The next day however, more and more oddities started happening. 

No longer did Amity Parkers get assaulted by GIW warnings when they accessed the internet. Instead they just got… nothing, nada, zilch.

Did the GIW go all in and just disconnect them from the rest of the world completely?

But then it became clear that that was the case with everything. stores weren't getting any shipments. 

phone calls would automatically say that numbers weren't in use. 

packages and mail weren't being picked up. 

Very worryingly, credit cards also stopped working and any attempt to contact the bank went utterly nowhere. 

people gradually are starting to get more and more worried.

Amity was very independent and self sufficient but this was a bit much.

At the very least now the city was more open to the doctor's Fenton energy solution of simply using Ecto to power everything.

The guys in white didn't show up in the city anymore either. 

The same went for the other out of town ghost hunters.

and after a quick check from Danny himself (as Phantom) he confirmed that the little not so very hidden base the guys in white had set up outside of the city borders was now simply gone.

Not only that but the roads going out of Amity also just suddenly stop.

At this point Team Phantom is starting to have a certain suspicion, and Sam asks Danny to find the nearest gas station and get them some newspapers.

Back home and now with a bunch of newspapers spread out over the floor with articles about Alien invasions in a place called Metropolis or the top floors of a skyscraper being blown up in a city called Gotham, they have enough to confirm their worries.

“Guys I think we got put back wrong”

[wiisagi-maiingan]

I love tornado survival guides. "Shelter in a basement or interior room without any windows. But if you're in a mobile home, just fucking die I guess lol"

[shxxtteredfantasy]

Rinwell, honest opinion about Law?

"He's a good guy with a great heart, but.... He can be a little um. Dumb sometimes."

[hitohitonika]

I read somewhere that Luffy is so keen on being friends with Law because Law is the first person in his life to ever approach him first. In every other relationship, it was Luffy asking, or demanding, to be friends first.

And I haven't been the same ever since.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[sol-consort]

Humans having just discovered that the gaint metal tongs in space unlock fast travel through the galaxy: oh boy, can't wait to activate every mass relay we can find, whoever turned these off must be an idiot lol

Turians opening fire without warning at first sight of relay 314 glowing again:

[luvlyycy]

law is such a pathetic man. especially when he eats pussy, he gets so drunk— lips all sticky as he fingers your pussy, moans coming from him as he ruts his clothed cock onto the mattress.

"s'good. it's so fucking good." he groans, mouth open and licking at your clit— he's praying, fucking hoping that you squirt in his mouth— all over his face. everywhere, fucking drench him in your spunk— ruin him by rutting your pussy into his face, mouth, nose, lips— everything.

"mmm, traffy— babyyy. m'g'nna cummm..—"

fucking finally.

[werewolfetone]

Folk blame the victorians for a lot but ngl yous are letting the georgians get off too easily. 95% of the time when the victorians pulled something diabolically evil it's because when they were a wean their born in the mid 18thc grandfather sat them down and said now john... when I was your age it was my life's dream to feed all poor people, women, disabled people, criminals, and other minorities into a giant meat mincer. this is why I dedicated my life to grassroots initiatives to kill the poor and writing pamphlets about why it would benefit society.... promise me you'll make my dream a reality when you're older. and john bless his soul said anything for you granda 🥹