#table history

[mx-heinous]

Yeah, Con pretty much followed them around for what to do

What the text says:

PA: Help me out here. Idk what to do with it.

VA: And you think I do. You made it. It's your problem.

[derek-draws-stuff]

Weird idea that I randomly thought up.

I feel like Connie’s reaction of the Boston massacre would be a little surprised but he’d be chill about it.

In Table History: French Onion Taxes, Connecticut casually gets a text from Mass about the massacre. He shows slight worry but it’s basically just casual mentioning.

Since I’m crazy I’m gonna take this as intentional, so I’m just gonna guess that Mass went to Connecticut first after the massacre was just like ‘hey Conn, help me create some propaganda about this’, and Connecticut was like ‘sure, why not’

Conclusion. One; they’re friends at least. And two; Connie’s chill about the Boston Massacre.

Thanks for listening to my random ass idea/headcanon thing :)

[mur-art]

So Massachusetts tends to be protective of Virginia. Virginia was someone who at least *tried* to talk to him, even if he teased Massachusetts for taking the risks he did during the revolution.

The day Virginia catches on to how protective Massachusetts is is a rough day for Virginia, and Mass is trying to double check that he's alright.

Aww :) this is super cute ❤️

Hope you don't mind I wrote a fic inspired by this. (That turned out way longer than I planned lol)

I have no idea where I was going with this (probably not at all what you had in mind) but I hope you get something out of it anyway.

TL;DR Mass is a reckless shithead in battle, putting himself in danger and taking bullets like it ain't no thing, but the second Ginny gets hurt he changes his tune...

Content warning for battlefield injuries, questionable historical accuracy, and inconsistent characterization:

To Virginia, Massachusetts was many things: Smarter than he had any right to be, annoyingly outspoken about big ideas and yet painfully reserved when it came to sharing his deepest thoughts and fears. Filled with a deep, pent-up anger for the injustices of the world, yet bursting with an almost-naive hope that things could get better. 

But above all, Massachusetts never missed a moment to be a completely reckless son-of-a-bitch. This was one of those moments. They were in the heat of yet another battle that wasn't going their way, losing ground quickly and actively being shot at, and the insufferable bastard still felt the urge to be a hero. 

“Stay back!” Massachusetts cautioned Virginia. “I don't want you to get hurt.” 

Virginia scowled, annoyed at the presumption that he couldn't hold his own in a battle. Yet, once he realized what Massachusetts was doing, he knew he needed to try to stop him for his own good. 

Mass ran straight into the hail of gunfire, taunting the British soldiers, hurling insults about the questionable virtue of their mothers, their sisters, and even their dogs. He let loose a long string of curses that would've caused his Puritan forebears to rethink their decision to journey to America. 

A bullet grazed his shoulder, but he barely winced. He just kept going, shouting and shooting at the soldiers, whose young faces wore a mix of confusion and fear. Virginia could see that they were hesitant to shoot again, but the officers in the back barked orders to keep on shooting. So the bullets kept flying. 

Virginia tried his best to keep up with Massachusetts. The scene was chaotic, the air heavy with smoke and the choking scent of gunpowder. His own musket felt heavy on his shoulder, and his feet ached with blisters. 

When Virginia caught a glimpse of Mass through the smoke, there was blood streaming down his face, from who-knows-where. Mass looked briefly back at Virginia and winked; his eyes glowing with pure maniacal rage. 

Virginia realized in horror that Mass wouldn't back down, even though it was clear this was a losing battle, not until he had to physically be dragged off the battlefield with his body in pieces. 

Virginia forgot what Mass had said, and lunged toward him, pleading for him to be rational, to back down just this once and live to fight another day, so that their cause could live another day. 

Virginia got close enough to reach Mass’s sleeve, grabbing onto it with a desperate cry. Right at that moment, he felt a sharp, blinding pain in his head.  

He instinctively reached up, and sucked in a deep breath when his fingers touched the sticky warmth of pooling blood. 

Massachusetts turned around to look at him, and his face went pale with terror. 

Suddenly Virginia was on the ground. Everything became a blur. He felt strong arms reaching down to pull him, heard a volley of musket fire, loud voices shouting…and then… nothing. 

When he woke up, everything was quiet except for the sound of a gentle running creek and someone breathing heavily next to him.

He felt… safe. 

Warm, familiar arms cradled his head. There was something applying pressure to his skull–a makeshift bandage made out of a shirt sleeve. Everything in his body ached, but his head hurt most of all. He realized that they were far from the battlefield now. Massachusetts must have transported him to some secluded area of the woods. 

“Thank God you're awake,” Massachusetts whispered. “They shot ya, right in the head. You were dead. You died in my arms–I–” 

His voice shook. “You dumb bastard. I told ya to stay back. You should've stayed back.” 

“You were being so reckless; you were gonna go get us all killed!” Virginia protested, still breathless from his injury.

“I had it under control,” Mass muttered. He tore off another strip of his shirt with his teeth and fashioned it into a bandage. He gently applied it to Virginia’s wound. Through his one functional heavily-lidded and swollen eye, Virginia saw that Mass was crying. 

He had never seen Massachusetts cry before.

Mass sniffed, wiping his face with what was left of his sleeve.  

“I think your skull’ll grow back,” he said, as matter-of-factly as he could. “Might leave a scar, though.” 

He kept running shaking fingers through Virginia’s hair– on the good side, where he still had hair, where he still had a head. 

“Of all the dumb colonies–” Massachusetts muttered. “I can't lose you. Not like this. I’d never forgive myself for it–”  

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Virginia smiled as best he could with half his head gone. He'd survived starvation, disease, and even a  hanging or two. But Mass didn't need to know all that. All that mattered was now, and their existential battle for existence as free colonies. 

“I'm in it ‘til the end. No matter what.”

“No, you're gonna go home where you can't get hurt anymore.” Mass said in a breathless, pleading tone. “Please, Gin. I can't see you like this, knowing it's my fault. I can take the blows! I signed up for this, but you–” 

“So did I! My name's on that Declaration of Independence, same as yours. We're all in this together!” Virginia insisted. “Don't go blaming yourself for this…” He gestured to his head.

Massachusetts frowned. “Please, just promise me you'll rest for a little while. Let yourself heal.” 

“That I can do,” Virginia said, holding out his hand weakly. “But I'll be back. Mark my words; this country needs me to make sure your recklessness doesn't doom us all.” 

“It takes one to know one,” Mass said, playfully shaking his hand.

–

After most of the bleeding had stopped, Mass took Virginia to a little seaside shack far away from the fighting. 

Mass had a duty to his soldiers, but he made sure to come back at the end of each day to check on Virginia. In wartime, the power that kept personifications alive weakened, so he healed much slower than normal. He slipped in and out of consciousness, but the one constant was Massachusetts’s comforting presence. He came to tend the fire and bring fresh bandages, soup, and occasional hard spirits. 

With enough water from the land’s healing springs and herbal poultices (and a little bit of magic), the injuries faded and Virginia began to heal. In time, the only reminder left was a scar. 

Later, much later, when the Revolution was a distant memory, and another war loomed,Virginia would rub his fingers over the scar and remember a time when things between them were better. 

[poison-marshmellow]

Virginia:what

Mass:I’m not going to explain myself

Virginia: you never do

[beaft]

bitchy post alert, but "asexual people can still have sex!" is one of those phrases that's like "you can wear makeup every day and still be a feminist!" in that yes, it is technically correct, but i don't understand why it needs to be emphasised so strongly and so often as if it's some sort of praxis

[lionofchaeronea]

"I am Sir Launcelot du Lake, King Ban's son of Benwick, and knight of the Round Table." Illustration by N.C. Wyeth from p. 38 of The Boys' King Arthur, published by Scribner in 1922.

[garadinervi]

The Elements According to Relative Abundance, by William F. Sheehan, University of Santa Clara, CA, 1970 [Science History Institute, Philadelphia, PA]

[mx-heinous]

POV: You're Pennsylvania

[oldschoolfrp]

Chainmail rules for medieval miniatures by Gary Gygax and Jeff Perren, 3rd ed printing by TSR, 1975 (first published by Don Lowry's Guidon Games in 1971), with Lowry's illustrations plus photos of early sand table games which originally used 40mm scale Elastolin and Starlux toy soldiers.

Combat in Dungeons & Dragons was developed around the d6 Chainmail rules, but the first 1974 D&D set also included an optional d20 system that became the more popular choice.

[lizziestudieshistory]

Someone send help, this is my "currently reading" pile and I'm fearful it's going to topple over if I keep going at this rate! Worst part is this isn't a complete picture of how out of control I am because I'm reading two fantasy books on my Kobo!

[livesunique]

A French 'Japonisme' Gilt & Patinated Bronze & Chinese Cloisonné Enamel Table By Ferdinand Barbedienne,

The Design attributed to Edouard Lievre, Paris, Circa 1870, the Cloisonné Qing Dynasty, 19th Century,

The rectangular top with turquoise ground elaborately decorated with colorful flora, fauna, feathers and foliate scrolls, set in cloud-form pierced gallery, raised on cluster-column bamboo-style stem adorned with dragons, with further bamboo-style supports and similar base with outscrolled feet, signed F. Barbedienne to base.

35 in. (89 cm.) high, 34 in. (87 cm.), 22 in. (56 cm.) deep.

Courtesy: Christie's

[illustratus]

Sir Lancelot in the Chapel Perilous by Walter Crane

[wealmostaneckbeard]

The politics in Lancer the mech pilot TTRPG seems center left to me. A good way to explain what's going on in that game's universe is with this overly long metaphor:

Imagine an alternate history where Nixon somehow beat JFK Jr to the white house, and once in office he lets Kissinger go nuts setting fascists up on an accelerated schedule. That's what Union's Second Committee was like. Then Tricky Dick procedes to nuke Vietnam a couple times. That's the Hercynia Crisis and that FTL Piston weapon launch. JFK and company ride the shock and horror of approaching nuclear war into office on the promise of de-escalation and enforcing civil rights, and they deliver. That's the coup that formed Union's Third Committee. Kissinger, Nixon, and the entire pentagon/raytheon corp take over NASA in Cape Canaveral, Florida where they form a tolerated corporatocracy in exile. That's basically Harrison Armory on the planet Ras Shamra. Now a United liberal-leftist front of America is actively trying to tear down dictatorships around the world that Kissinger set up (he got assassinated at some point in this time line) and replace them with socialist democracies. That is Union's Justice/Human-Rights Department and a few other government branches. So far they've had some success although people are pointing out that it's a bit hypocritical that the liberators are using weapons from corporate conservative states where civil rights are discretely curtailed. That's what's driving political discourse in 5016u in Union's legislative body, the Central Committee and it's myriad political parties.

So yeah Lancer's political intergalactic landscape is a bit like modern day? Except also cthulhu is giving out reality-breaking tech to militant civil rights advocates and random civilians? That's what HORUS basically is, btw.

Now that I've written this out, it would make for a good american alt-history with mechs campaign in Lancer...

[queerprayers]

i want to say first of all that i fully respect a community's/denomination's/culture's right to have closed practices. i am not entitled to other people's traditions, and when i am a guest in a space i understand that everything is not automatically for me. and i know i do not have to understand to respect.

and also! when i go to a catholic church and can't receive communion i want to fall on the floor weeping. what do you mean i can't have him he's right there. sorry my baptism was the wrong kind of baptism. i'm hungry and you want me to become someone else before being fed.

[tothebestofmyabilities]

@seemoreseymoursbay day 4!! Platonic relationship day

I chose Nat and Louise for today! I just love how she looks up to Nat, Louise seems to have a lot of insecurities about her place in the world and how she expresses herself and her gender (being worried about not liking girly things or about her interests being too scary or dangerous and about those things making her bad or wrong) so the way she seems to see Nat as a positive rolemodel for non traditional femininity and aspires to be more like her is just really sweet to me. I also personally hc Louise as a lesbian and I think when she starts to crush on a girl (in this case jessica bc i love them together) she wouldn't want to talk to her family about it for fear of them trying to involve themselves so she starts going to Nat to vent about her crushes and get advice (and hold snakes probably)

[detroitlib]

View of woman engineer, at drafting table, drawing an automobile body with pencil and drafting triangle. Stamped on back: "Photo by N. Lazarnick, 244-6-8 W. 42nd St., New York. Tel. 594 Bryant." Handwritten on back: "First and only woman automobile engineer."

National Automotive History Collection, Detroit Public Library