#sam howe

[thenerdyhistorian]

@parkersrevenge requested some 90s sitcom (full house specifically) Boston Gang doodles 

[maturiin]

commission for @ice---queen !!

[sjkerry-wingsoverbobdylan-main]

[moonshynecybin]

"Thanks, Sam" "You're hopeless, Charlie"

[modernmissbennet]

a connection between Sophia Peabody Hawthorne and Sam Howe I somehow didn't notice before??? @parkersrevenge

[ice---queen]

Once, when my sister Julia was a baby, he and my mother were travelling in Italy; there were no railroads in those days, so they drove in an old-fashioned travelling-carriage. One day they stopped at the door of an inn and my father went in for a moment to make some inquiries. No sooner was he out of sight than the driver slipped in at the side door to get a glass of wine; and the next moment the horses, finding themselves free, ran away, with my mother, the nurse and baby, in the carriage. My father, hearing the sound of wheels, came out, caught sight of the driver’s guilty face peering round the corner in affright, and at once saw what had happened. He ran along the road in the direction in which the horses were headed; and presently, rounding a corner of the mountain which the road skirted, he saw a country wagon coming towards him, drawn by a stout horse, with a stout driver half-asleep on the seat. My father ran up, stopped the horse, unhitched him in the twinkling of an eye, leaped on his back, and was off like a flash, before the man got his eyes fairly open. He galloped on at full speed till he overtook the lumbering carriage-horses, which were easily stopped. No one was hurt; he turned the horses back, and soon came to where the wagoner still sat on his seat with his mouth wide open. My father paid him well for the use of the horse, and he probably regretted that there were no more mad Americans to steal a ride and pay for it.

Two Noble Lives by Laura E. Richards

[letmebeallyours]

Handwriting

“Look at this. Look at how heavily Oliver writes,” Sam exclaimed, thrusting a paper in font of Charles. Charles took it, glanced over it—it was only a brief, light-hearted poem—and handed it back. “Was I supposed to see something special about that?” “Didn’t you notice his handwriting?” “It was very neat?” “Well, yeah, but is that all you saw?” “Umm…yes?” Sam sighed dramatically. “Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve told you about graphology?” “I’ve heard it all…” Charles trailed off. Sam sighed again and sat down beside him, holding up Oliver’s poem once more. “Look, do you see how far forward his letters slant? That means he’s an energetic, assertive, confident person.” “I can’t argue with that.” “And the way he connects his letters, the low, confident swoops, that’s garland style—that shows warmth in his character—“ “Warmth? What do you mean?” “A warm personality,” Sam explained impatiently, “Not quite a fiery one, but not placid either. And look at how deep he writes, how hard he must press on the pen. That shows a lot of emotional energy.” “You get all that from his handwriting?” “Yes. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you; graphology is amazing. We express ourselves in ways we don’t even realize—a complete stranger could understand our personality just from a scrap of our handwriting.” “But don’t you think your conclusions might be biased from knowing Oliver so well already?” “Not biased—just confirmed.” “Haven’t you ever seen exceptions? Have you ever found someone whose personality didn’t match their handwriting, according to this?” “No. Our handwriting is so intimately connected to who we are that I imagine it’s impossible for this method to make mistakes.” Charles tried to keep the skepticism from his features, but Sam must have seen it anyways. “Okay, it’s hard to believe when you’ve only seen one example—why not let me analyze your handwriting?” “Mine?” “Yes, yours. Then you can see firsthand how accurate it is.” “So—what? You want me to go find something I’ve written recently?” “Never mind that, here just write something on the back of this.” “”What should I--?” “Anything, just make sure it’s a few lines long.” After thinking it over for a moment, Charles wrote out a stanza of one of his favorite poems. He had scarcely set the pen aside before Sam had snatched the paper back and started poring over it. It only took a few moments for him to reach his conclusions. “Here, your letters are mostly vertical, but a few of them, like here—and here—have a slight forward slant. That shows you’re pretty good at keeping yourself in check, but occasionally you allow a burst of confidence to show through. And your letters are a little larger than average; that means you’re an extrovert.” “I don’t know about that—“ “You are, trust me. You’d much rather be hanging out with your friends than hanging out alone.” Charles had to acknowledge the truth of that. Still, he was not convinced that Sam would have known it from his handwriting alone. “You have pretty good spacing between your letters and your words. If I remember correctly, that means you have a generous spirit. Or maybe it’s independence? Or it could be both, I’m not sure. You’re not too heavy-handed, like Oliver—just an average amount of pressure on the pen. That means you’re an anchored person. It can also mean you have clear perception and a good memory.” “And what,” interrupted Charles, who was beginning to be uncomfortable under such scrutiny, “does it mean if someone’s handwriting is as illegible as yours?” Sam shoved him playfully and stood, muttering “hopeless” as he walked away.

[thenerdyhistorian]

Based on this text post and an AU @parkersrevenge and I made up

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore...