#horatio morris | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spooh52 · 10 months

Text

Pokémon choices: Jonathan Harker addition!The drawing of Harker with his Pokémon at journey start. here.

There will be spoilers so don’t read if new to the book

Rockruff

The first Pokémon I chose for Jonathan was his Rockruff, Horatio. My reason being Jonathan has a very pleasant and friendly personality that Rockruffs are described to have at the start of his journey but later his personality is not stopped focused on killing the Count and is one of the more violent members of the group, matching up a bit with the Pokédex entries for Rockruff in Pokémon Sun and Moon and Pokémon Scarlet.

Rockruffs can evolve into either a daytime, nighttime, or the rare dusk lycanrock. Which matched up with the potential for Harker to be turned into a vampire by the Count and the girl gang. The choice to be a man of day or a creature of night. Inevitably, as noted by many last Dracula daily, Jonathan becomes something not quite human (his strange speed, strength, white hair to mention a few discussed pieces). The Dusk form for Lycanrock matches the inbetween state of Jonathan later in the novel. It’s Pokédex entries for Sun and Moon, Sword and Shield, and Scarlet and Violet mention that Dusk Lycanrock has a calm nature until the battle begins where it fights relentlessly just like Jonathan post October 3rd whenever he is in vicinity of Count Dracula. Plus the shiny’s color for the evolutions are blue, which I associate with Jonathan for it’s quiet, unassuming, yet strong nature.

The name Horatio of course comes from Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Horatio is Hamlets best friend and is skeptical of the supernatural. Jonathan takes his rockruff with the same name to mirror Jonathan’s own original skepticism with the supernatural.

Eevee

Now I wasn’t certain if I wanted to give Jonathan another Pokémon at his journeys start but my brain thought of how cute it would be if Jonathan, Mina and maybe Lucy all had the same Pokémon. Since Eevee has so many evolutions, I thought it was a fitting one to choose.

If I was to do a Dracula Characters as Pokémon au, I would pick for both Mina and Jonathan to be Eevees. For Jonathan, the one reason is that a normal Eevee color is brown but the shiny is white; post October 3rd, Jonathan goes from being a normal Eevee to a shiny one. The second reason is Eevee and evolve into Leafion, a grass type, which can learn life draining moves like Leech seed. Perfect for being a vampire equivalent with out being a ghost type. (The mental image of Count Dracula as a noivern chasing after Eevee!Jonathan with the intention of turning him into a Leafion is funny to me.)

Jonathan would evolve his Eevee into a Sylvion. Sylvion can only evolve with high Friendship and is a fairy type. Fairy types have the advantage over Dragon types, which the Count would have as his favored Pokémon type. Sylvion are also noted to be violent against Dragons in a few Pokédex entries like in Pokémon Moon.

The name Hamlet was chosen because of it being the Shakespeare character Jonathan mentions most in his entries (albeit each instant mentioned was for when he was questioning his sanity and using a familiar figure to try and safely navigate through the distress).

Phantump

I wanted to give Jonathan a Pokémon from Castle Dracula as the final one for his party. He only has three Pokémon to match Mina who will also have three Pokémon. That way when together the Harkers can have a full team. The only people I can see having a full team of six, which is typical for Pokémon trainers into battling, would be Quincey Morris and Count Dracula. None of the others will have full teams of six (it’s probably expensive to take care of a lot of Pokémon too).

Castle Dracula has a scary feel to it and is surrounded by woods and wolves. As such there are probably a lot of Ghost and Dark type Pokémon around. With this criteria I considered a Noibat, a Phantump, a Mimikyu dressed as a Noibat, or a Litwick. I eventually decided on the Phantump because in its Pokédex entries (Y, Sun, Sword) Phantumps are described as being a dead child possessing a tree stump. Considering we read both about the vampires killing at least two children and how the child deaths affected Jonathan, it seems fitting that he would run into and befriend one. I’m not sure if this Phantump would be one of the two to children to die or of an earlier kind. Nevertheless, one of them chooses to follow Harker around the castle and out.

The Phantump does not yet have a nickname as it would probably want its old name back. It could evolve as a means to protect Jonathan during his flight away from the Castle and free itself from being a ghost of the castle where it died.

That should be all for Jonathan’s Pokémon. Thank you for reading this whole post!

#dracula daily spoilers #Dracula spoilers #jonathan harker #Dracula characters with Pokémon

3 notes · View notes

theworstfoundingfathers · 1 year

Text

Who is the worst? Round 1: John Trumbull vs Roger Sherman

John Trumbull (June 6, 1756 – November 10, 1843) was an American artist of the early independence period, notable for his historical paintings of the American Revolutionary War, of which he was a veteran. He has been called the "Painter of the Revolution".

Trumbull's Declaration of Independence (1817), one of his four paintings that hang in the United States Capitol rotunda, is used on the reverse of the current United States two-dollar bill.

As a soldier in the American Revolutionary War, Trumbull rendered a particular service at Boston by sketching plans of the British and American lines and works. He witnessed the Battle of Bunker Hill. He was appointed second aide-de-camp to General George Washington, and in June 1776, deputy adjutant general to General Horatio Gates. He resigned from the army in 1777 after a dispute over the dating of his officer commission.

Trumbull was appointed president of the American Academy of the Fine Arts in New York City, serving from 1816 to 1836. Emphasizing classical traditions, Trumbull did not get along with the students. At the same time, his painting skills declined. In 1825, many of the students withdrew, founding the National Academy of Design. Unable to accommodate to changing tastes, the American Academy later closed in 1839 after a second fire destroyed its collections.

Roger Sherman (April 19, 1721 – July 23, 1793) was an American statesman, lawyer, and a Founding Father of the United States. He is the only person to sign four of the great state papers of the United States related to the founding: the Continental Association, Declaration of Independence, Articles of Confederation, and U.S. Constitution. He also signed the 1774 Petition to the King.

Sherman opposed appointment of fellow signer Gouverneur Morris as minister to France because he considered that high-living Patriot to be of an "irreligious nature".

Sherman is one of the most influential members of the Constitutional Convention. He is not well known for his actions at the Convention because he was a "terse, ineloquent speaker" who never kept a personal record of his experience, unlike other prominent figures. At 66 years of age, Sherman was the second eldest member at the convention following Benjamin Franklin (who was 81 years old at the time). Yet he was a critical opponent of James Madison and the more populous states. Sherman was also one of the most active members of the Convention, making motions or seconds 160 times (compared with Madison's 177 times).

#founding father bracket #worst founding father #founding fathers #amrev #brackets #polls #john trumbull #roger sherman

2 notes · View notes

creativecuquilu · 11 months

Photo

Today is my birthday. And for this year, here is something I've been thinking about for quite a long time: A good bunch of my favorite male characters - including those I recently knew or I like but not enough as to fanart, but taking away everyone I've abandoned or just felt like they shouldn't be here - all gathered up in a boxing ring, the majority wounded and weary, but some a bit dirty and confused. Serious and sad faces, a dark story to tell behind their piercing bleary looks but for some, way worse. And of course - the simplycity, cartoonism and bouncyness of my circled neckless heads, bubble eyes and long rectangly trapece bodies. Dedication and pressure to myself cannot be forgotten on this process...as well as telling you this is based off the Whatcha Say meme. And now the copyrights, which tells you the characters, their series, their actors and their rights, starting from the first row. Hope you like it! But first...Artwork (c) @CreativeCuquiLu Peter Venkman - Ghostbusters - Bill Murray (c) Columbia Pictures and Sony Pictures Paul Atreides - Dune - Kyle Maclachlan (c) Universal Pictures, David Lynch and Frank Herbert James Tiberius Kirk - Star Trek - William Shatner (c) Desilu Productions, CBS Paramount Television and Gene Roddenberry Larry Daley - Night in the Museum - Ben Stiller (c) 20th Century Fox, 1492 Pictures and 21 Laps Entertainment Agent K - Men in Black - Tommy Lee Jones (c) Columbia Pictures and Barry Sonnefield Horatio Caine - CSI Miami - David Caruso (c) Anthone E. Zuicker, Ann Danahue, Carol Mendelsohn, Jerry Bruckheimer Television and CBS Television Studios Jaime Lannister - Game of Thrones - Nikolaj Coster Waldau (c) HBO Entertainment and George R.R. Martin Guy Montag - Fahrenheit 451 - Oskar Werner (c) and Ray Bradbury Rick Deckard - Blade Runner - Harrison Ford (c) The Ladd Company and Ridley Scott Roj Blake - Blake's 7 - Gareth Thomas (c) BBC and Terry Nation Luke Skywalker - Star Wars - Mark Hamill (c) 20th Century Fox, LucasArts Films and George Lucas Dave Lister - Red Dwarf - Craig Charles (c) BBC Marty McFly - Back to the Future - Michael J. Fox (c) Universal Pictures and Steven Spielberg Sherlock Holmes - The Hound of the Baskervilles - Tom Baker (c) BBC James Bond - Goldeneye - Pierce Brosnan (c) United Artists Pictures Inc. Michael Knight - Knight Rider - David Hasselhoff (c) Universal Pictures Aragorn - Lord of the Rings - Viggo Mortensen (c) Warner Bros. Entertainment, United Artists Pictures Inc, Peter Jackson and J.R.R. Tolkien The Doctor - Doctor Who - David Tennant (c) BBC Arthur Dent - The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Simon Jones (c) BBC and Douglas Adams John Hannibal Smith - The A Team - George Peppard (c) Universal Pictures Lucky Luke - Lucky Luke - Jacques Thébault (c) United Artists Pictures Inc, Réne Goscinny and Morris Peeta Mellark - The Hunger Games - Josh Hutcherson (c) Lionsgate Films and Suzanne Collins Alan Grant - Jurassic Park - Sam Neill (c) Universal Pictures, Steven Spielberg and Michael Crichton Asterix - Asterix and Obelix - Roger Carel (c) Extrafilm Produktion GMBH Berlin, René Goscinny and Albert Uderzo Shaggy Rogers - Scooby Doo - Casey Kasem (c) Hanna Barbera Neo - The Matrix - Keanu Reeves (c) Warner Bros. Entertainment, Village Roadshow Pictures and The Watchoski Brothers Gomez Addams - The Addams Family - John Astin (c) Hanna Barbera Inspector Gadget - Inspector Gadget - Don Adams (c) DIC Entertainment Corp. Harry Potter - Harry Potter - Daniel Radcliffe (c) Warner Bros. Entertainment and J. K. Rowling Rocky Balboa - Rocky - Sylvester Stallone (c) Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and United Artists Pictures Inc And for anyone who wants to watch its process...

1 note · View note

ariel-seagull-wings · 3 years

Photo

@amalthea9

I Remembered of Aubrey Morris’s Mad Gardener character in the original The Wicker Man (1973), and started to think he could be a fitting face for Styles’s Dad :)

@countessofedrington @captain-renate @splashes-and-shanties

#aubrey morris #the wicker man 1973 #hornblower related #hornblower fandom #fandom musings #horatio hornblower #hhornblower #headcanon #styles #period drama au

5 notes · View notes

omgitsemilyward · 6 years

Photo

#I love one (1) cast #great news #Adam Campbell #briga heelan #andrea martin #brad morris #sheaun mckinney #nicole richie #john michael higgins #horatio sanz

36 notes · View notes

greypetrel · 4 months

Text

WIP Whenever

Of course the last one of the year comes late! Thank you @daggerbeanart for tagging me! :)

More Whaling/Whales AU (it needs a name ok), this time with two special guests, courtesy of @melisusthewee. Quinn and Horatio enter the scene, in style. Off to get those whales and make money and glory! (in two. On a rowboat. If you lots don't know how to fish it's not Quinn's fault.) (soundtrack) Aisling will dub him "The Arch-nemesis" because how dare he come near her pod with a gun? Not on her watch!

Adding this version of the science bros via Leyendecker study. Josephine will be added and Aisling's dress changed once I'll commit to a decade.

#Judging

Tagging: @shivunin @ndostairlyrium Mel you're tagged back if you read down here @brother-genitivi (too soon? Keep it for whenever!) @pinayelf @spainkitty @whimsyswastry and YOU!

#wip wednesday #whales au #dragon age #dragon age AU #inquisitor lavellan #inquisitor trevelyan #comics #aisling trevelyan #quinn trevelyan #horatio morris #isabela (dragon age)#cassandra pentaghast #greypetrel #dorian pavus #melville-level chill when it comes to whales #she's the royal society's favourite researcher of course why do you ask #also I love Quinn x°D

36 notes · View notes

melisusthewee · 5 months

Note

hap fri!!!! i'd love to see 'The smell of freshly baked bread' for Morris x Quinn 🥺

I think I might have been a bit loose in my interpretation of this prompt, but I am very happy with how this turned out and had a lot of fun writing it!

Sour Dough Pairing: Inquisitor Quinn Trevelyan/Ser Horatio Morris Word Count: 3,169 words Rating: G for @dadrunkwriting

Quinn Trevelyan had started to like mornings in the countryside. The bedroom had no windows which he found to be a bit oppressive, but it made the room nice and dark and Quinn found that slowly over time he had begun to sleep better for it.

It certainly helped that he never had any true responsibilities in the country. There were no meetings to get up for, no expected appearances, and no servants knocking on his door or letting themselves into his quarters to serve him tea and breakfast.

Well… perhaps he missed the tea and breakfast part. Morris never put together any tea trays for him, but then Morris usually left in the mornings and Quinn liked to sleep in so there wasn't much of a point to it. Morris would get up with the sun and putter about quietly in his kitchen before going out to check on his animals. Then - if the weather seemed promising - he would leave for the nearest village and Quinn would promptly stretch out in the bed, happy he could finally now enjoy all to himself.

With Morris gone, Quinn could gather up both pillows just the way he liked it. He didn't feel cramped. He didn't have to share the blankets. The bed was not made for two people, but it was all that Morris had and Quinn had not yet decided how to broach the subject of needing a bigger bed, a bigger room, and perhaps even a bigger house. He wasn't certain he wasn't still just a guest here, and he liked it in the country and he liked it even more with Morris so he chose not to press his luck.

If Morris walked to the village, it would take him about an hour. He would stop at the baker's and pick up a loaf of fresh bread, and then depending on the weather and how amicable he felt, he'd either turn around and come home or he'd be gone for nearly the entire morning. The longer he was gone, the greater the chance he returned with something interesting - pastries today instead of just bread; the blackberry jam that Quinn liked so much; a bouquet of flowers just because. And Quinn would spend the time alone resting and enjoying sleep that was slowly coming easier to him.

Except today something was off. Quinn had been vaguely aware of Morris rising like usual and had rolled over and gone right back to sleep himself - just as usual. But some time later - he had no idea what time it was, just that it seemed like it ought to still be morning - he was woken up by what he thought smelled like smoke and burnt toast. At his feet lay his dog with her paw over her snout as if to say she could smell it too and did not like it. But Quinn was not as calm, out of bed and on his feet in an instant.

"What sort of dog does nothing while the house is burning!"

But as he burst out of the bedroom into the main room of the cottage and stood there in nothing except what the Maker had given him, he could see that the cottage did not appear to be on fire at all. Not yet, at least.

Morris had not gone to the village. He was instead seated at his kitchen table, looking miserable and forlorn until Quinn's appearance caused him to instead appear quite confused. "Are you all right, Trevelyan?"

"Are you?"

Horatio Morris' dark hair had in recent years begun to show signs of greying. It was most evident in his beard which had started to become speckled with bits of silvery-white, but he had also sprouted a few lonely wisps of silvery hair hidden among his dark brown curls. But the man Quinn found himself looking at right now was very grey, like someone had tossed him about in powder. His hair looked dusty and nearly white, with patches of the same white powder smeared across his cheeks, his nose, across the painter's smock he had decided to put on that morning, and up his forearms nearly to his elbows.

"I was making bread," Morris said quietly.

That explained the smell that had roused Quinn from his sleep. The cottage wasn't on fire, but Morris had given it a very good try.

There was flour everywhere. Lumps of what Quinn assumed must be dough had been stacked in different places on the table. Each clump looked unique - some seemed exceptionally wet, and others phenomenally lumpy. A glass jar was tipped over on its side and Quinn wasn't entirely unconvinced that its contents weren't alive and trying to crawl out and across the table. There were eggshells all over the floor which left Quinn confused because as much as he was wholly inept in the kitchen, he was pretty certain that eggs were not an ingredient in bread.

Quinn walked over to the table, careful to avoid stepping on any of the mess underfoot, and inspected the nearest ball of dough. He picked it up, trying not to grimace at the texture of it.

"Well…" he said slowly after he had dropped the dough back onto the table with a wet plop, "I'm sure it will look different once it rises."

Morris' already deflated face fell further. He buried his face in his flour-covered hands, sending up a soft white cloud and a forlorn-sounding moan. When Quinn did not say anything, Morris - in the perfect picture of a tortured artist - gestured off towards the side.

Of course, thought Quinn, he had smelled something burning.

A wooden board sat near the open window and on it sat what Quinn assumed were supposed to be finished loaves of bread. The words "loaves" and "bread" were quite generous though as what had been set out were rather deflated, unevenly blackened, and very misshapen.

"Have you tried cutting out the burnt bits?" asked Quinn, trying to be helpful.

Morris looked up, giving him a dirty look. Clearly, Morris had checked and there were no unburnt bits aside from the soggy dough gathered on the table in front of him.

"I didn't realize you were an expert baker," said Morris petulantly.

Quinn laughed - not at Morris and his predicament, but at the silliness of the idea. "Don't get cheeky with me, Horatio, you know if I'd done this I very well would have succeeded at burning down your house."

That got Morris' expression to soften a little though there was still a rather morose feel to his gaze. “I don't understand what I did wrong… it's just flour, water, and yeast…”

Quinn did his best to brush away the flour that coated the nearby seat, but decided it did not seem clean enough for him to settle his bare cheeks on and instead moved to absently draw a line through the flour dust that littered the table.

“Maybe you didn't pray enough,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

Morris stared at Quinn blankly. It was evident from the vacant stare that he did not have the slightest inclination what Quinn was going on about, but with someone known as the Herald of Andraste suggesting he pray harder, he wasn't entirely sure how serious Quinn was right now.

So Quinn explained. “Back home, the women in the kitchens used to sing parts of the Chant whenever they were waiting for the dough to rise.”

Morris ran a hand through his hair, sending up a cloud of flour. “You're saying my bread didn't turn out because I didn't ask the Maker to leaven it…?”

“No, Horace, I'm not that daft,” said Quinn. “But parts of the Chant are pretty long. It takes the Sisters in the Grand Cathedral an entire year to sing it from beginning to end. Maybe your dough hasn't sat long enough.”

“Well how long is it supposed to sit for?”

“Don't ask me. I'm not a baker.”

Morris groaned in despair and put his head down, burying his face in the arms he'd folded on the table. Quinn frowned. It was only bread. It shouldn't be the end of the world. So what if Morris couldn't bake? Neither could Quinn and it didn't bother him one bit. Besides, there were plenty of things Morris was good at on his own. It shouldn't be a big deal that this wasn't one of them.

Quinn knew better than to tell Morris this when he was in one of his artist's melancholy - for it certainly seemed like one of those to Quinn. So instead Quinn walked over to the hearth and retrieved the little pot that Morris had attempted to bake in. Hefting it in one arm, he walked back over to where Morris still sat with his head down, and placed the pot on the table. Quinn then quietly began to pick up the lumps of dough that Morris had abandoned and placed them in the pot one by one. Once finished with his patchwork assembly of dough, Quinn retrieved the discarded lid and placed it so the offending concoction was properly covered.

Clearing his throat to get Morris’ attention, Quinn slid the pot across the table.

“Maybe,” said Quinn slowly, “you wash all that flour out of your hair, I find myself some clothes, and we go get some proper bread in the village. And perhaps when we return, enough time will have passed that the thing in here has become something bread-like.”

Morris looked up and over at the pot Quinn had slid in front of him. His expression was still dark and moody, but as his focus shifted from the results of his failed labour to Quinn - who was still quite naked and beginning to feel a bit awkward about it - the barest hint of a smile ghosted across his face.

“You want to walk to the village with me?” he asked shyly.

“I suppose so, yes.”

The significance of the gesture was not lost on Morris, whose face already seemed a little brighter as he abandoned his kitchen mess to go clean himself up. Quinn didn't really go out much and tended to avoid anywhere with people. It was too difficult now that he was so easily recognizable and so Quinn's world had mostly become the boundaries of Morris’ property - which was plenty of land and space, but very quiet and empty. The nearest village wasn't very big, but it was still a village, and that meant Quinn would have to perform his role as Herald if he was recognized - a role he didn't really believe in much anymore.

But, Quinn reasoned, it would be time with Morris and that was always time well spent. It would cheer him up, and while he was not certain he was ready to admit it to anyone, making Morris happy was important to him. It felt… good whenever he saw the man smile, and the bright look in Morris’ eyes whenever he glanced at Quinn made him feel warm, flustered, and twenty years younger.

It took the better part of an hour for the two of them to get themselves in a presentable order. Quinn was just exiting the barn with his horse when Morris emerged from the cottage, his hair still damp from washing but back to its normal dark colour punctuated with only the usual bits of grey.

When Morris caught sight of Quinn and the freshly saddled horse, he paused, hands on his hips and looking a little confused. “I thought we were walking.”

“You can if you'd like. But I've walked across most of Thedas. I much prefer to have my horse do most of the journey for me.” Quinn patted the flank of the mare affectionately. “Besides! She's got saddlebags! And you're not going to tell me I went through all the effort of saddling her for nothing.”

“You should have let me take care of that,” Morris said, moving to take the reins from Quinn.

“She's my horse,” Quinn insisted, “and I got here well enough on my own. I don't need help.”

He looked at Morris pointedly. He knew the man had good intentions and he was getting better at asking first instead of just assuming Quinn needed help, but it was still difficult not to get irritated or offended when Morris seemed to constantly ask about doing the same things again and again. There were things Quinn was perhaps slower at with only one hand but perfectly capable of doing in the end. Looking after his horse was one of them.

Be nice, he reminded himself. Today was now about cheering Morris up, not picking petty fights. So he held his tongue, handed Morris the reins, but hefted himself up into the saddle unassisted.

To his credit, Morris took the slight edge of Quinn's pettiness in stride. “But you're going to make me saddle my own horse?”

Quinn leaned forward in his saddle and grinned. “I thought you wanted to walk.”

“You are an ass, Quinn Trevelyan.”

But there was no barb to the insult and the familiar threat of laughter could be heard in Morris’ voice. Quinn chuckled quietly and held out his hand for the reins. Morris obliged, but before he could head to the barn to retrieve his own horse, Quinn wrapped the reins around the horn of his saddle and then held out his hand a second time. Morris looked at him rather perplexed, but Quinn was insistent with the gesture.

“Theia can handle the two of us.”

Morris hesitated. He seemed to be sizing up both the horse as well as the saddle. There also appeared to be another debate going on inside his head, judging from the way his brows creased. Quinn had learned that to his surprise Morris had kept a lot of parts of himself held very close to his chest and away from anyone's business. He had his own reasons that Quinn admittedly didn't understand but his friendship with one Dorian Pavus had made him realize that it wasn't something he could fix for him and could only be supportive in whichever way the other person wanted him to be.

Two men on a horse wasn't anything odd. It wasn't anything to second guess or think about. And even if someone did, it was exactly what it looked like so what did it matter? But Quinn knew he couldn't push Morris out into a world he wasn't ready for, not this time. All he could do was just keep offering his hand and hope that one day Morris might be brave enough to take it.

Today turned out to be that day and when Morris suddenly grabbed Quinn's hand, Quinn nearly lost his balance in surprise. But he recovered quickly, gripping Morris’ hand firmly and smiling broadly as the other man took the invitation and hoisted himself up into the space behind Quinn.

“All right?” Quinn asked, after he had shifted forward in the saddle to try and make enough room for them both to sit comfortably.

“I think so, yes,” replied Morris.

It was good enough for Quinn who took the reins in his hand and tapped his heels against the flank of the horse to urge her forward. He whistled for his dog, who fell into step trotting alongside the horse, and they set off for the road.

The weather appeared promising as the sun seemed to be reaching its zenith in the sky. A few clouds could be seen here and there but they were white and fluffy, not the sort that tended to threaten rain. Spring was getting on into summer, but the heat had not yet arrived and settled over things. It was a nice day to be outdoors, Quinn decided, with the sun on his face as they passed by green fields of grass flanked with colourful wildflowers that had burst into bloom.

Morris had put his large arms around Quinn's waist, settling into a level of comfort that would likely have made both of them blush had they been looking at one another. Quinn was tempted to tease him, but when he heard Morris sigh and felt the press of his head against his shoulder, he decided that holding on to this closeness was much more important.

For all the secret sentimentality that Quinn was holding on to, Morris’ mind was still turning over the kitchen in his mind. Quinn realized once he heard another sigh that sounded less content and a little more dramatic. He rolled his eyes, but chose not to dislodge Morris from his shoulder.

“I suppose I ought to give up,” Morris was saying. “I am not made to succeed in the kitchen.”

Perhaps a little dramatic was a slight understatement.

“I've not complained about your cooking yet. You make very good stews.”

“Any idiot could make a stew,” grumbled Morris.

Quinn made a dismissive noise at the back of his throat. He couldn't make a stew. He could barely make a cup of tea and even that was only something he had recently attempted to learn. He had been asked to watch the stew pot once or twice - at Morris’ and back when the Inquisition had been a thing. Once in the Hinterlands, the broth had started to boil over and Quinn had sat there and watched it happen because it's all he had been asked to do and he wasn't certain what one was supposed to do when these things happened. He had been sent into the field with only army rations after that - something he was still cross with Cullen about all these years later.

“It's just bread, Horatio,” said Quinn after a while, finally returning from his thoughts back to the present. “Don't let it bother you so much.”

“If only it was just bread,” said Morris, sounding once again much more dramatic than Quinn felt the situation called for. “I tried making mead once, you know.”

“Mead?” said Quinn in genuine surprise. “When did you make mead?”

“The first year I had my bees,” explained Morris. “I had all this honey and didn't yet know what to do with it. So I got it into my head to be a brewer.”

“I take it things went poorly?”

He felt Morris nod against him and heard another sigh. “I put the jars in the barn to ferment. They exploded. My horse was startled but unhurt, but an entire harvest's worth of honey just splattered all over the walls. I'm a little afraid of trying it again.”

Quinn didn't respond right away, uncertain whether he should encourage Morris and if not, how honest he should be in explaining why. But the day was bright, and Quinn was determined not to let this time spent together become clouded by other things. So he chose his words carefully, feigning an airy dismissiveness that he knew would make Morris laugh.

“Ah… well… I don't drink mead anyway.”

#dadwc #dragon age #quinn trevelyan #horatio morris #oc: quinn trevelyan #oc: horatio morris #melis writes stuff

4 notes · View notes

ltwilliammowett · 2 years

Text

Games aboard a Ship

Life on board a ship could be boring if there was nothing to do. And some Sailors and Officers tried to keep themselves amused with games, although gambling was forbidden in the Navy. But you could also play just for fun and there were several games to choose from. Here a small list which games they played.

Captain's Mistress- On his three major voyages of discovery, Captain James Cook spent so many hours in his cabin, poring over this game's stratagems, that his crew joked he had a mistress aboard- hence its name. It is a sophisticated version of four in a row for two people. Taking turns, each player tires to be first to position four wooden balls in a row, horizontally, vertically or diagonally in the chutes while his opponent tries to prevent him.

Three men playing cards - A Scene on the Main Deck of A Line of Battle Ship in Harbour (detail), by Thomas Sutherland 1820 (x)

Canoga / Shut the Box / Batten down the hatches - is an old gambling game and is a simple, relatively quick game for 2 to 8 players. Players must compete to get the lowest possible score each round by elimination of playing pieces. The first player to win 4 accumulated rounds is the winner of the game!

Crown and Anchor- also a dice game dating back to the early 18th century. Three six-sided dice, each having the symbols crown, anchor, spade, heart, diamond, and club, are used along with a layout (a board or a cloth) containing those symbols. The players place their bets on the layout symbols, after which the banker throws the dice from a cup. The payoffs are usually 1 to 1 on singles, 2 to 1 on pairs, and 3 to 1 on triples; for example, if a player bets on the crown and two crowns are rolled, the player receives £2 for each £1 bet.

Classic Games, like Chess, Nine men's morris, Dominos and Checkers

Whist- a trick taking card game The player left of the dealer is first to play. Play continues clockwise, with each player having to play a card in the same suit of the lead card whenever possible. If a player cannot follow suit, any card can be played. The player with the highest ranking trump suited card wins the trick. If no trump suited cards were played, the winner is the player who played the highest ranking card in the lead suit. The amount of tricks won over six tricks equals the amount of points received. The first team to five points wins the game.

Horatio Hornblower is a very good whist player in both the series and the books (x)

Game of the Goose - a classic dice and racing game with different themes, but as it required a board it was more likely to be played by the officers.

Hazard - is played with two dice by any number of people. Any player may begin the game as the first shooter, or caster. If two or more players wish to begin, they roll the dice and highest decides. The player begins by throwing the dice to establish his main point, or main: any number from 5 to 9, inclusive. Once he has established his main, the other players may make their bet, wagering on whether the caster will win or lose, after which he throws the dice again. If he throws in, or nicks, he wins. Five is nicked by 5, 6 by 6 or 12, 7 by 7 or 11, 8 by 8 or 12, and 9 by 9. The caster loses (outs, or throws out) when throwing aces or deuce-ace (crabs, or craps) or when throwing 11 or 12 to a main of 5 or 9, 11 to 6 or 8, and 12 to 7. Any other throw is his chance; he in this case keeps throwing until the chance comes up again, when he wins, or until the main comes up, when he loses. The dice are then passed to the next caster.

The game of Goose in a French version for young Midshipmen to learn the Naval terminologies, 18th century (x)

Baste the Bear - the bear having a piece of rope tied around his waist while his keeper held the other end and had to protect him from a circle of sailors who aimed blows at him, using knotted handkerchiefs or pieces of rope.

Sling the Monkey - the unfortunate Monkey had a knotted handkerchief or piece of rope to defend himself. The drawback was that he was usually suspended by a rope around his shoulders and swung from a yardarm, back and forth amidst his assailants.

King Caesar - One man is placed in the centre of hte deck and the other men try to get past him. Whoever he brings down has to help him when the crew come back the other way. Eventually every member playing has to stop sole survivor from getting through the line of men across the deck.

King Arthur- A game played in warm climates, because one sailor impersonated King Arthur, and he was drenched with buckets of water until he could make one of his tormentors smile, who then exchanged places with him. The winner is the one who has used the fewest buckets.

#naval history #games aboard #sailors entertainment #officers entertainment #age of sail

259 notes · View notes