#historically not awesome

[territorial-utopia]

Huzzah! It's birthday time! I'm slowly accumulating more and more things I like (latest additions this vest I made and a travel typewriter! Still need to fix the latter one though)

Sure has been a year.

[sour-sailin]

SpUk for a strawpage request :) A ship I think about a lot but never draw LOL

[mossdogs]

clone high college except the latter doesnt actually exist because it was a fraud and most end up going to different universities outside exclamation even though im not sure how well that would go

[fictionadventurer]

I found a book on First Ladies by President's Daughter Margaret Truman and paged through it a bit, and I'm already obsessed with this story about Herbert Hoover.

Herbert Hoover had a tender heart, and his First Lady had an even more tender one--but they were loath to reveal their private feelings to the American voter and were appalled at the thought of publicizing them for political gain. A perfect example was the story of three children from Detroit, the oldest thirteen, who showed up at the White House gates to ask the President to help get their father out of jail. The man had stolen a car to keep his family from starving. President Hoover ordered a meal for the children from the White House kitchen, sat them in chairs around his desk, and talked to them about their father. He told them he was sure he was a good man, if he had children who loved him enough to travel all the way from Detroit to Washington for his sake. After the children left, Hoover called in his secretary, who saw tears on the President's face. "Get that man out of jail," Hoover said. "I don't care how you do it." The secretary succeeded in quashing the conviction--and asked the President if he could release the story to the press. "Of course not!" Hoover said.

And also with this related story further down the page.

Both Lou and the President gave thousands of dollars of their own money to strangers who wrote to the White House begging for help. Always, the gifts were anonymous, delivered through friends who were asked to investigate the pleas to make sure the money was needed.

[uncleclaudius]

Reconstruction of a group of statues portraying the blinding of Cyclops Polyphemus by Odysseus and his men.

The destroyed statues were discovered in a collapsed coastal cave near the Italian village Sperlonga which has been identified as Spelunca, a place, where according to Suetonius, praetorian prefect Sejanus saved emperor Tiberius's life when the cave collapsed in 26 AD.

[dandydingo]

After a year of writing I'm very excited to announce that the production of Midnight Wink officially starts August 1st! If you'd like to see my awesome stick figure sketches and pages as they're made check out my Patreon https://www.patreon.com/MidnightWink Don't fret if it's not within your means though! Midnight Wink will be free to read right here on Tumblr and released in huge honking chunks as each chapter is completed :)

[halo-eight-94]

Pigface & Trent Renor | Suck | Live at Metropol in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania on April 25, 1991

“How does it feel? Suck, suck, suck!”

Trent & Nivek Ogre powerhouse duet edit

[hoppityhopster23]

Happy birthday to Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington! (May 1st, 1769)

[belleandsaintsebastian]

mutuals we should group chat. anyone want 2 group chat ...

[cuddles-with-dragons]

I have a Wild West AU.

For all of Star Wars.

It started with a piano version of Cantina Band. It sounds like something you'd hear in a saloon.

That branches out into this.

Han Solo, a smuggler who's infamous for being uncatchable. His partner is a mountain man who's known by the name "Chewbacca".

And this.

Din Djarin, known to most as "Mando", is a lone Mandalorian bounty hunter. Not much is known about the secretive tribe that calls themselves Mandalorians, and most never remove their bandana.

Finally, I drew some members of the Batch. And their horses.

Omega is just a kid, but for some reason the new tycoon is obsessed with capturing her. Bounty hunters are on the lookout. She's brave though, and fights extremely well -for a woman.

"Crosshair" never gives out his real name, and he's always tried to hide his past as a freedom fighter. This cold, snarky, bounty hunter does have a soft side, though he doesn't show it often.

Thunder belongs to a freedom fighter that goes by "Hunter". He's a rather mischievous horse, and will often try and steal snacks.

Mercury was named after her coat, by small-town librarian "Tech". She's patient and is good with children.

Dynamite loves her owner, a ex-miner who calls himself "Wrecker", and she's incredibly tolerant of loud noises and doesn't spook easily.

Blitz is fast and dangerous, just like his owner Crosshair. He isn't scared by much and will often swat people with his tail.

Rattlesnake belongs to a former soldier who goes by "Echo". This horse is incredibly grumpy and doesn't tolerate much.

Desert Rose originally belonged to Echo, but got stolen by Omega and eventually became her horse. She's quiet and calm, and absolutely loves attention.

This is all the art I have so far, hope you like it!

Horse ref base by WHIT3FANG on DeviantArt

Font is Saddlebag from DaFont.com

[loverboybrightsideghost]

listening to rqg 159 and alex describes how zolf would recognize wilde’s “eeerrghhhhh it has to do with touchy-feely emotions” face. yeh

[ibrithir-was-here]

So I really loved @sky-of-starflowers fic meetings-that-weren’t where Hob meets up with Dream in different forms in between the 100 year visits and had to draw all the different forms. It’s an incredibly well written story with a lot of depth to it, definitely give it a read!

(I know I said it would be a couple of days but I couldn't help it I stayed up and did it all in one go ���)

[thebaffledcaptain]

Things that happened at the 250th anniversary of the changing of command at Old Fort Niagara

as recounted by a humble fifer of His Majesty's 22nd Regiment of Foot, for his own records:

The unit got to sleep in the French Castle, which sounds much more luxurious than it was, but I’m still happy we had the chance to do it—it’s the main barracks building in the fort, with three stories that house officers’ quarters, mess halls, store rooms, and even a chapel. In period accurate style, however, the regiment was quartered on the third floor where something like a hundred soldiers would have slept on wooden pallets around the perimeter of the room.

Three of us, myself included, squeezed into the weird little nook between the two doorways and decided that was the most fun place to sleep.

In hindsight I can only assume it was not the most fun place to sleep because man was it hot in there. The site had the windows padlocked and some people had to go convince a staff member to open them so we wouldn’t suffocate the next night as well.

Two unfortunate souls swore up and down that they had an encounter with a ghost on the first night and immediately ran down to the chapel on the second floor. It was not until after I left that I discovered the site is rumored to be haunted by…. *checks notes* a Headless Frenchman?

There were a ludicrous amount of donuts for breakfast both days. Like, every flavor you could imagine, laid out across four modern folding tables. That was how the Fort justified not providing us with any sort of rations. Just… an absurd amount of donuts.

On the second day I ate my donut watching two highlanders struggle to set up a stretcher, assuming they were probably going to do some kind of medical demo with it later

As I’m walking back to the barracks with my friend I hear a voice behind me go “make way for the King’s donuts!”

I turn around and the same two highlanders are carrying eight donuts, each in a different flavor on its own individual plate, perfectly laid out in a line that spans the entire length of the stretcher. Here’s the visual because you need one.

Somehow I managed to lose the entire regiment on the first day. They said they were going off to drill and apparently went so far from the Fort that I could not find them until they returned—last out of every other unit drilling, of course

During this time the 54th doctor saw that I looked abandoned and offered me a seat next to his operating table and… dismembered limbs etc etc. I accepted for the shade though with some trepidation.

My fellow 22nd fifer abandoned me to be a man-at-arms this weekend. The 54th drummer and I got some quality bonding time as the only musicians in our battalion.

We did make kind of an executive decision to detach ourselves from the 43rd when we split into companies after watching them accidentally wheel themselves into a corner of some sort… but, you know. No one cares what music does anyway

In fact one of the 8th fifers aptly described our job as to criticize and/or commentate on the rest of the goings-on we had no part in, in a fashion I describe as being much like a bunch of little peacocks in the back. If I’m being honest that’s my favorite part of the role.

In accordance with this principle, my fellow fifer and I took it upon ourselves to put lavender sprigs in as many of the regiment’s hats as we could. We didn’t get very far but the sentiment was there.

Our sergeant took it upon himself to explain the origin of the word “cock” on multiple occasions because the fully grown adult men in this unit have the collective maturity of a 12 year old

Kind of disappointed with the tavern night (bad beer and not even in a historical part of the fort) but ended up having a long conversation with some 54th guys, so now I can say I was challenged to a duel by the 54th sergeant?

Alright, slight exaggeration there—both of us fence and while I saw him doing some friendly sparring with a few other people, we never got the chance for a bout, so now it's up in the air for the next event we're both at.

Also, he said "Spepsi" instead of "Pepsi" exactly one (1) time and I tormented him with it for the rest of the night. It's a good thing he's not my sergeant or I might be digging myself into a hole with that.

Watched two highlanders at the front of their files wheel decisively left when a right wheel was called and then sheepishly jog back to the rest of their unit

Greatly enjoyed hearing one of our guys’ “deaths” on the battlefield, which are famous for his Wilhelm scream-esque exclamations

On two occasions, the 54th sergeant turned to me (once on the battlefield, once in the middle of a very solemn memorial service) to tell me “it’s stinky over here”

I did not think this would be the event where I bonded with an NCO from a regiment I was not a part of but I’ll take it

The regiment bought $700 worth of Russian Drill from one of the sutlers. Cleared out his stock. Needless to say a pair of Russian Drill britches is in my future

On the second day for some reason the Drum Major decided not to do any kind of drummer’s call before forming up for battle and just told us musicians to be on the lookout.

I was there for that announcement and stuck with my regiment so I was fine. The 54th drummer, however, was not aware of this and the entire battalion marched past him as he was just sitting under one of the tents—I waved to him hoping he would join us but he just… waved back at me…

Cut to five minutes later—the 54th sergeant turns to me and goes “where’s [drummer]?” and I have to tell him we just… marched right past him. We give it another minute and suddenly, in the distance, the disheveled green figure of the 54th drummer frantically running to catch up to us… poor fellow. Not his fault nobody communicated to him. Which is a problem that could easily be solved by, you know, utilizing the Music (as would have been historically accurate), but apparently no one wants to do that…

I seem to be making a bit of a name for myself as the British Army’s Mandolinist in Residence, or, as some of my comrades have nicknamed me, “The Mandolier” (which. I have to be honest. Is a cooler term)

On Saturday night my fellow fifer and I stayed up until almost two in the morning singing despite the knowledge we had to be up at 6 to do reveille. However I did not regret this decision then nor do I now.

Nothing compares to the experience of singing Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald at midnight, sitting on a wall that drops off straight into Lake Ontario, at a centuries-old fort with no one around. This was Sunday night, when most of the units had left and we had the fort to ourselves and a handful of other souls who couldn’t bring themselves to leave the 18th century just yet—in fact, we had been about to finish our music for the night and our little group had been turning to leave when we started the song and the rest of them came running back.

Indeed, it’s been a week since and I am still not ready to be in the 21st century, nor am I ever, but of all the ways to end this event, I’ll take that one.

[allgremlinart]

I dont like how I can see a lot of people still conflating nakedness/bare skin/their subjective assessment of what constitutes "simple" clothing with a lack of cultural worth, diversity, and complexity.....

[fictionadventurer]

"What if the South won the Civil Wa--"

BORING!!

The only Civil War alternate history worth caring about is, "What if they fixed the sewage issue that was contaminating the White House water supply and killing presidents?"

How does the country progress if William Henry Harrison gets a full term? How do we handle presidential succession with no Tyler Precedent established?

If Zachary Taylor doesn't die, is there no Compromise of 1850? If Taylor lives to push for more strident anti-slavery measures, does this delay war or start it sooner? Does he try a different compromise just to keep the Union together? Or does he push his own ideas so strongly that the South secedes? Imagine if the war starts ten years early with a firmly anti-secessionist Louisiana plantation owner (who until like two years ago was a highly successful general) in the White House. Is this a Robert E. Lee in reverse situation--a man having to choose the Union over his people? There's no way to know, and no one else cares, but for some reason I do.

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Moment of signing the security agreement with Germany