#hms sophie

[judgeitbyitscover]

Master and Commander (1969) by Patrick O'Brian

Cover art by Geoff Hunt

W. W. Norton & Company, 1970

Ardent, gregarious British naval officer Jack Aubrey is elated to be given his first appointment as commander: the fourteen-gun ship HMS Sophie. Meanwhile—after a heated first encounter that nearly comes to a duel—Aubrey and a brilliant but down-on-his-luck physician, Stephen Maturin, strike up an unlikely rapport. On a whim, Aubrey invites Maturin to join his crew as the Sophie’s surgeon. And so begins the legendary friendship that anchors this beloved saga set against the thrilling backdrop of the Napoleonic Wars.

[deluluass]

just finished squid games s2 and i need them to start making out sloppy style

[silverhallow]

[ola-na-tungee]

[lonesomedreamer]

‘How lucky I am: sometimes it terrifies me. Dearest Jack…’ Her inner eye filled with a brilliant image of Jack Aubrey, tall, straight, cheerful, overflowing with life and direct open affection, his yellow hair falling over his post-captain’s epaulette and his high-coloured weather-beaten face stretched in an intensely amused laugh: she could see the wicked scar that ran from the angle of his jaw right up into his scalp, every detail of his uniform, his Nile medal, and the heavy, curved sword the Patriotic Fund had given him for sinking the Bellone. His bright blue eyes almost vanished when he laughed – all you saw were shining slits, even bluer in the scarlet flush of mirth. Never was there anyone with whom she had had such fun – no one had ever laughed like that.

Patrick O’Brian, H.M.S. Surprise

[the-lonelyshepherd]

jackieshauna drives me insane btw

[bats4me]

Art style study of (almost) all my favourite artists!! I love it so much ;_;

Also yes I drew Elias twice SUE ME. (Didn't like the way the first one turned out sobbing)

Artists credit!!:

@dross-the-fish

@museofthepyre

@thirdchildart

@potato-lord-but-not

@ggracee

@clairebearsparkles

(don't think sage has Tumblr IDK-)

@cinnamonsly

[the-way-astray]

hi, hello, yes, if you ever use the word "deserve" with regards to romantic relationships between fictional characters (and real people, honestly) then i kindly invite you to go fuck yourself

[baeshijima]

my brain is cooking for the transmigration-into-500-years-before-genshin-main-story-and-dumped-into-khaenri'ah fic and ohhhh.... i have many many thoughts... too many to be contained.... the angst and hurt/comfort and growth and self-actualisation and fostering relationships and acceptance and ourghghg

it also reminds me that i am yet to update my other genshin transmigration fic and its been a year or two🧍‍♀️ oops 🧍‍♀️

[shouldwemaybe]

my littlest brother called me "mom"

[chernobog13]

Geoff Hunt's cover painting for the W.W. Norton & Company edition of Master and Commander (1969), the first of Patrick O'Brian's excellent Aubrey-Maturin series of novels set during the Napoleonic Wars.

The cover recreates the scene of Royal Navy lieutenant Jack Aubrey, newly promoted to Master and Commander (a ship's captain in all but actual rank) being escorted to his new command, HM Sloop Sophie, a 14-gun ship.

I heartily recommend the Aubrey-Maturin novels to everyone. You don't have to be into historical fiction, or a fan of maritime stories, to enjoy this series. The characters, O'Brian's understanding of the times, and his terrific writing and wit make each book an absolute joy.

Many people call Bernard Cornwell the greatest wrier of historical fiction today, and I agree with them. I always enjoy Cornwell's books, especially the Richard Sharpe series (set during the same time period as the Aubrey-Maturin novels). But as good as Cornwell is, O'Brian is even better!

[chronosdawn]

don't be shy, you can rewrite the howl's plot while still making the crossover 💞💞 (the feral dynamic between howl reader and wotw scara would be so funny (tired exasperated reader vs jaded simpering brat scara lmao)

In reference to this post.

You get it anon, you get the dynamic I'm going for.

Sadly I don't think I can commit to rewriting the whole plot of the movie because that would be a fairly tremendous undertaking (especially when I already have quite a few WIPs that I'm slowly chipping away at). However, because I really love this concept and as a thank you for being my first ask, I have written a little drabble for you anon. I hope you enjoy it!

I'm also open to taking asks about this AU and may write some more drabbles for it in the future so keep your eyes peeled!

A lone figure stood at the mouth of the alleyway leading to the main square, the dark colors of his outfit at odds with the cheerful banners and fluttering flags adorning the nearby buildings. His countenance too, did not match that of the other parade-goers, for if one were to peer into the shadow cast by his wide-brimmed hat, they would find his features twisted in bitter fury—his eyes trained not on the merry townsfolk, but the two figures soaring high above them, one with their arm wrapped around the other.

The figure sank his teeth into the skin of his lip. Even though he’d been working at pursuing you for some time now, he hadn’t expected you to make a trip into town today, not with all the soldiers and crowds. It had been so long since he’d been this close to you that it’d made him desperate, acting with far too much haste and not enough forethought to keep you from getting away. It hurt more, somehow, to have come so close only to have you slip right through his fingers. 

Again.

A faint noise like that of shifting fabric alerted the figure to a presence behind him and Scaramouche, the Wizard of the Waste, turned to face one of his poor excuses for a servant. 

The creature made of writhing shadows bowed deeply, arm held over its chest where its heart had once been before the wizard had carved it out and replaced it with his own dark magic.

“My apologies, my Lord,” the thing rasped, “the sorcerer has escaped.”

Scaramouche’s expression twisted further in distaste as he hissed through his teeth, “yes, I could see that much.” He turned back to where your retreating figure still hung in the sky, his fingers twitching at his sides as though he might reach out and pluck you from it. “At least tell me you’re still following them.”

“The others are trailing them from the ground, my Lord. Once they descend, we shall inform you of their whereabouts immediately and attempt to seize the sorcerer—”

“No,” Scaramouche interrupted, keeping his gaze trained on you. “By the time you catch up to them, they’ll be long gone. Follow the other one, the peasant looking fellow they have with them. Find out where he lives and report it to me immediately.” 

“As you wish my Lord.” The creature’s form started to disperse, the shadows that made up its body slithering away into the dark nooks and crannies of the crumbling alleyway stonework.

“One last thing before you go.” Scaramouche raised a hand, black-purple smoke curling around his pale fingers. A hiss of pain came from behind him as the magic making up the creature’s body began to constrict, distorting its shape even further from anything that could have once been called human. “I’ll be lenient on this occasion, but the next time you disappoint me, well,” his tone dropped, turning deadly, “I have no need for useless things, do I?”

“No, m—my Lord,” the thing stammered out, the tearing vocal cords in its throat rendering the sound akin to nails being scrapped across a chalkboard. 

“Go on then.” All at once the magic at the wizard’s fingertips vanished, and the creature wasted no time in making its exit, leaving Scaramouche alone in the alleyway.

You were so far away now it was difficult to make out the shape of your form—where you ended and the irksome worm pressed against your side began. He couldn’t stand it, the thought of someone else at your side—a place that used to belong to him. No, a place that still belonged to him, and would continue to, regardless of your feelings on the matter. 

But no matter how irritating it was to see someone else touching you, he’d have been a fool not to see it for the opportunity it was. 

Scaramouche knew you, knew that no matter how much you liked to run and hide away from your problems, there was a kindness in you that you’d never quite managed to truly ignore. If some unfortunate soul, particularly one you’d already shown a hint of favor to, were to turn up at your door, cursed and bereft of other options, you’d surely allow them into your home.  And if that cursed individual just so happened to be carrying a talisman upon their person that contained enough of a wizard's magic to break past the infernal seal you kept on the door of your so-called castle, they would be able to lead said wizard right to you.

How fortunate then, Scaramouche thought, that he now had someone he wanted to curse with every fiber of his being.

And once the fool allowed him access to your residence, all he had to do was find where you were keeping your heart hidden away and take it for himself.

[suitsusboth]

what do we think a term of endearment Ben would call Sophie in the lovelights universe 🤔

[jzargo]

i messed up which worldstate i had active in the keep when i started aurel's game btw (probably bcs i was hopping back and forth between troubleshooting his mod load order and finishing rilian's playthrough) and so i. accidentally loaded in the worldstate where. aurel is also the warden.

i am choosing to view this as time-travel shenanigans that went awry during in hushed whispers and aurel and dorian are frantically trying to figure out how to fix the timeline behind the scenes while leliana squints at them

[lonesomedreamer]

‘How lucky I am: sometimes it terrifies me. Dearest Jack…’ Her inner eye filled with a brilliant image of Jack Aubrey, tall, straight, cheerful, overflowing with life and direct open affection, his yellow hair falling over his post-captain’s epaulette and his high-coloured weather-beaten face stretched in an intensely amused laugh... Never was there anyone with whom she had had such fun – no one had ever laughed like that.

☸

Stephen would have seen Sophie only a few weeks ago, perhaps even less; he would certainly have messages from her, perhaps even a letter. [Jack] put his hand secretly to the crinkle in his bosom, and lapsed into a reverie.

☸

Sweetheart, We drank your health three times three on Monday; for the fleet tender brought us orders while we were polishing Cape Sicié, together with the post and your three dear letters, which quite made up for us being diddled out of our cruise. And unknown to me it also brought a copy of The Times with our announcement in it; which I had not yet seen, even.

I had invited most of the gun-room to dinner, and that good fellow Simmons brought it out, desiring to drink your health and happiness and saying the handsomest things about you – they had the liveliest recollection of Miss Williams in the Channel, all too short, were your most devoted, etc., very well put. I went red as a new-painted tompion and hung my head like a maiden, and upon my honour I was near-hand blubbering like one, I so longed for you to be by me in this cabin again – it brought it back so clear.

☸

‘Mend your pace, Sophie. Come come. You would never grow fat as a scrivener. Cannot you spell hyperbole? Is it done at last, for all love? Show.’

‘Never,’ cried Sophie, folding it up.

‘I believe you have put in more than ever I said,’ said Stephen, narrowing his eyes. ‘You blush extremely.’

☸

Jack handed Sophia out and cried, ‘Sophie, my dear, jump in. God bless you.’

‘God bless you and keep you, Jack. Make Stephen wrap himself in the cloak. And remember, forever and ever – whatever they say, forever and ever and ever.’

☸

...Stephen walked into the cabin. It was filled with a rosy smile, with contentment and the smell of porter; Jack sat there at his table behind a number of opened letters from Sophia, two glasses and a jug. ‘There you are, my dear Stephen,’ he cried. ‘Come and drink a glass of porter, with the Irish Franciscans’ compliments. I have had five letters from Sophie, and there are some for you. […] What a splendid hand she writes, don’t you find?’ said Jack. ‘You can make out every word. And, really, such a style! Such a style! I wonder how she could have got such a style: they must have been some of the best letters that were ever wrote. There is a piece here about the garden at Melbury and the pears, that I will read to you presently, as good as anything in all literature.’

☸

‘[A]nd then again, you know, I do so long to be married! The idea of being married drives a man, by God: you can have no idea. Married to Sophie, I mean…’

☸

‘Ah, that is Sophie from clew to earring,’ cried Jack, with such a radiant smile. ‘Can you imagine a sweeter thing to say? And such modesty, do you see? As if anyone could look at Diana after – however,’ he said, recollecting himself and looking deprecatingly at Stephen, ‘I don’t mean to say anything wrong, or uncivil. But not a reproach, not an unkind word in the whole letter – Lord, Stephen, how I love that girl.’ His bright blue eyes clouded, ran over, and he wiped them with his sleeve.

☸

He is a deep old file, and I do not pretend any great penetration; but I love him more than anyone but you…

☸

He was sitting at his desk in his cabin… writing to Sophie ‘the sword of honour they have presented me with is a very handsome thing, in the Indian taste, I believe, with a most flattering inscription; indeed, if kind words were ha’pence, I should be a nabob, and oh sweetheart a married nabob.’

☸

Sophie dear, here is the prettiest thing in the world – John Company is stuffing the ship with treasure – you and I are to get freight, as we say… No vast great thumping sum, but it will clear me of debt and set us up in a neat cottage with an acre or two. So you are hereby required and directed to proceed to Madeira forthwith and here is a note for Heneage Dundas who will be delighted to give you a passage… Lose not a moment: you may knit your wedding-dress aboard. In great haste, and with far greater love, Jack.

☸

‘Good morning, Jack. I have Miss Williams here. Will you come across?’

The boat splashed down, half-filling in the choppy sea; it pulled across; Jack leapt for the side, raced up, touched his hat to the quarterdeck, crushed Dundas in his arms, and was led to the cabin, wet, ablaze with joy.

Sophie curtseyed, Jack bowed; they both blushed extremely, and Dundas left them…

Endearments, a hearty kiss. Endless explanations, perpetually interrupted and re-begun…

☸

‘I tell you what, Sophie,’ cried Jack. ‘I have a parson aboard! I have been cursing him up hill and down dale for a Jonah, but now how glad I am: he shall marry us this morning.’

‘No, my dear,’ said Sophia. ‘Properly, and at home, and with Mama’s consent, yes – whenever you like. […] The minute we get home, you shall marry me in Champflower church, if you really wish it. But if you don’t, I will sail round and round the world with you, my dear.’

☸

Breakfast, with Dundas…insisting on a rehearsal of the action with Linois, was a long, rambling meal, with dishes pushed aside and pieces of toast representing ships, which Jack manoeuvered with his left hand, holding Sophia’s under the table with his right, and showing the disposition of his line at different stages of the battle, while she listened with eager intelligence and a firm grasp of the weather-gauge.