Hoping for the best; expecting the worst

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Sophya. More commonly known as Sophie.

August 1993 - Present day

Thinker of thoughts; writer of words. Appreciator of musical theatre, Romantic poetry, nineteenth century things and historical things in general. Other things you might find frequently popping up here are 'The Great Gatsby', Gregory Maguire's 'Wicked', Doctor Who, and a proliferation of irrelevant writing rambles.

Ask me about Les Miserables, John Keats or Percy Bysshe Shelley and I will talk your ear off. (They deserve specific mentions for the sheer amount of space they take up in my brain). So, you have been warned.

Chronic sufferer of Fictional Outrage. Also I have a bizarre love-hate relationship with Daisy Buchanan, in that I really dislike everything she stands for, but I'm also slightly obsessed with her. Oops.

I write fic, mostly for Les Miserables; most of it a melting-pot of angst and such. I also write original stuff, but I don't post much of that online.

message for sophies followers (incase anyone didnt see it last time)
Hi everyone this is sophies brother Ben. idk if any of you has noticed that soph has been gone for a few months. i dont want to put stuff all over the internet so if u want to know why she hasnt been around plz put a message in her ask box

thanks

— 9 months ago with 2 notes
#reblog 
message for sophies followers

Hi everyone this is sophies brother Ben. idk if any of you has noticed that soph has been gone for a few months. i dont want to put stuff all over the internet so if u want to know why she hasnt been around plz put a message in her ask box

thanks

— 10 months ago
#deliveringtheworld  #re blog 
message for sophies followers

Hi everyone this is sophies brother Ben. idk if any of you has noticed that soph has been gone for a few months. i dont want to put stuff all over the internet so if u want to know why she hasnt been around plz put a message in her ask box

thanks

— 10 months ago
#deliveringtheworld  #sophie 
Strength (Horatio Hornblower: Bush and Kennedy)

AU: Bush, and not Horatio, finds himself in the Spanish prison with Kennedy.

_-_-_-_

The candle, burning low, hardly flickered; the night was windless, the air heavy. Bush, his head resting against the high back of his chair, slept uneasily. He would sooner have been back in the cell than in this room that Masaredo had allowed them for the moment, circumstances being what they were. A sound made him start awake; a hoarse, sleep-muffled cry. He sat up straight at almost precisely the same moment that Kennedy woke, eyes snapping open, fear giving him the strength to sit almost upright. Bush, leaning forward, put a steady hand on his shoulder and helped him, panicked and disoriented as he was, to lie back.

“It’s all right, Mr Kennedy,” he said in a low voice, “It’s all right.”

The younger man looked at him fixedly, his breath emerging in shallow bursts. He appeared to try to say something; could not make the words come.

Bush repressed a sigh. A jug sat on the rickety table to his right, and he poured water from it into a dented metal cup. He leant forward again, but Kennedy pushed the cup aside weakly, turning his head away from Bush.

“Mr Kennedy,” said Bush again, a hard edge in his voice, “Stop this. You are going to drink, and you are going to eat. You do not want to die. We will get out of here.”

“No you won’t,” came the mumbled reply, “I’ll slow you down. You should have just let -”

“Would I be here if I did not think your life was worth anything?” Bush was impatient; the impatience all but masked his concern, “Would I take the trouble if I thought you would only impede our escape? I am not a soft-hearted man. And you -”

“It’s my own doing, that I’m here,” said Kennedy bleakly. There was no trace in him of the spirited young midshipman whom Bush had known aboard theIndefatigable. “If I hadn’t…I almost got you all killed. Simpson was right -”

Bush interjected again. “Simpson,” he said tightly, “Was nothing more than a common coward. Whatever he said, it was unjust and untrue.”

“No it wasn’t,” Bush had to strain to hear the words, “I don’t remember any of the rest of you being such easy targets.”

Standing, Bush paced in long strides to the door and then back again. “The rest of us,” he rapped out, “Were not subjected to the same – things that you were. You are not weak.”

There followed a long silence, thick and cloying as the humid air.

“I wish you were right,” said Kennedy.

“Look at me,” Bush ordered him, and then again, his voice grim; resolute; unbending, “Look at me. This will end soon. We’ll escape, and when we do, you will be with us. Do you know how I know this? Because you are not a selfish man, and you will not leave another with the guilt of being unable to help you. You will not do that.”

Kennedy looked at him now. There was a familiar, faint spark of indignation in his expression. “You presume -”

“Ah,” said Bush dryly, “There you are. I quite wondered where you had gone.” At this, Kennedy gave him a look that was half amusement, half irritation, entirely his. Bush knew he had almost won. “I do not expect this to be easy,” he said, sobering, “But you must try. You must.”

After Bush had helped him to drink, Kennedy fell into a restless sleep, but no more old nightmares woke him. Bush stayed awake and thought. He himself had never been so completely without hope, and he wondered; faced with a situation wherein there seemed to be nowhere to go but down; feeling useless; feeling like a burden, how would he, himself, fare? Perhaps all men had it in them to want to die, and they only needed a push in the wrong direction.

— 1 year ago with 10 notes
#william bush  #archie kennedy  #horatio hornblower  #hornblower  #fic  #writing  #AoS  #angsty angst angst i'm wearing my angst hat now 
I am the Very Model of a Morbid Revolutionnaire

revolutionn12:

I am the very model of a morbid revolutionnaire,
I know all matters barricade, guillotine, and of Robespierre,
I think a trillion different plans of ways to throw the old regime,
From the Bastille to Saint-Merri, I’m almost never sans a scheme,
I know what sets Lamarque apart from Guizot sixteen years ahead,
And muskets aimed that end up shooting anywhere except the head,
I know whom I should call ‘Monsieur’ and whom to address ‘Citoyen’…
And I am well-versed in divers rebellions odd and mitoyen.

(And E is well-versed in divers rebellions odd and mitoyen,
And E is well-versed in divers rebellions odd and mitoyen,
And E is well-versed in divers rebellions odd and mito-mitoyen!)

I bite my thumb at ineffectual monarch Louis Capet,
And express indignation at derailed general Buonaparte -
In short, in matters barricade, guillotine, and of Robespierre,
I am the very model of a morbid revolutionnaire!

(In short, in matters barricade, guillotine, and of Robespierre,
E is the very model of a morbid revolutionnaire!)

I know Marie Antoinette never really said “Let them eat cake”,
And that de Sade’s hollering from his prison cell are really fake,
And I can tell why Jean-Paul Marat does his business in a tub -
It’s not because he wanted Charlotte Codray to give him a rub!
And those two pals gone off to war, Antoine Saint-Just, Philippe le Bas,
Emissaries sent from Paris who won the battle in Alsace,
And the following massacre that shed blood during Thermidor…
Which I think made the roads as red as rags held by those matadors.

(Which E thinks made the roads as red as rags held by those matadors,
Which E thinks made the roads as red as rags held by those matadors,
Which E thinks made the roads as red as rags held by those mata-matadors!)

I know where sat the Feuilles, the royalists, the ardent Montagnards,
At any rate, when you find out who’s who, it isn’t quite so hard -
In short, in matters barricade, guillotine, and of Robespierre,
I am the very model of a morbid revolutionnaire!

(In short, in matters barricade, guillotine, and of Robespierre,
E is the very model of a morbid revolutionnaire!)

In fact, should it all come down to an ominous mass cavalcade,
I know furniture in fifteen minutes can be a barricade,
And I can chant ‘Ça ira’ with the angered proletariat,
Scowl at aristocrats staring, and say ‘What are you looking at?’
I’m sans-culotte with scarlet Phrygian cap and tricolour rosette,
And I know children we must educate as well, not just cosset,
I know of Rousseau, Prud’homme, and of David’s paintings all by heart…
Well, I can list a few of them, and isn’t that at least a start?

(Well, E can list a few of them, and isn’t that at least a start?
Well, E can list a few of them, and isn’t that at least a start?
Well, E can list a few of them, and isn’t that at least - at least a start?)

I know decapitated heads can sometimes live a little yet,
Although if you’re Desmoulins the scaffold you’ll climb without regret,
In short, in matters barricade, guillotine, and of Robespierre,
I am the very model of a morbid revolutionnaire!

(In short, in matters barricade, guillotine, and of Robespierre,
E is the very model of a morbid revolutionnaire!)

— 1 year ago with 58 notes
#French Revolution  #Gilbert and Sullivan  #music  #lovett 
The Morbid Revolutionnaire: I am the Very Model of a Gallifreyan Alien →

revolutionn12:

To the tune of the Major-General’s song from Gilbert and Sullivan’s “The Pirates of Penzance”. Words by Capital E (i.e. yours truly).

DOCTOR:

I am the very model of a Gallifreyan alien:

I’ve information fungi, pentatonic, and mammalian,

I know just how to vanquish enemies terran and galactic,

I’ve met Agatha Christie, I’ve sailed right into the Titanic,

I’ve met Daleks a billion times who always go EXTERMINATE,

But in the end they run away from me when the fight culminates,

I’ve worn a bowtie, celery, a fez, and even cannions,

Perhaps to the continuous ‘musement of my companions.



COMPANIONS

Indeed to the continuous ‘musement of his companions.

Indeed to the continuous ‘musement of his companions.

Indeed to the continuous ‘musement of his compa-companions!

DOCTOR

I’ve managed to entice a Queen and end up banished out by two -

I’ve always wanted carrot hair but somehow never managed to…

In short, in matters fungi, pentatonic, and mammalian,

I am the very model of a Gallifreyan alien!

COMPANIONS

In short, in matters fungi, pentatonic, and mammalian,

He is the very model of a Gallifreyan alien!

— 1 year ago with 4 notes
#doctor who  #gilbert and sullivan  #i lovett 

I just want to let everyone know that I’m ok

but there are…. things going on in my life right now and so I still won’t be around much for a while

but I just wanted to let you wonderful people know that I’m alright

— 1 year ago with 5 notes
#mostly  #adventures in sophieland 
nothing-rhymes-with-ianto:

spaces between my organs: a history of melancholia playlist
i. if i had a heart - fever ray ii. all apologies - nirvana iii. waste of paint - bright eyes iv. demons - imagine dragons v. closer - nine inch nails vi. the nothing song (njosnavelin) - sigur ros vii. svefn-g-englar - sigur ros viii. lights in the sky (i swear i’m here mix) - nine inch nails ix. 21 guns - american idiot the musical x. time code - bright eyes xi. i can’t make you love me - bon iver xii. icarus - bastille xiii. my body is a cage - peter gabriel xiv. this is a low - blur xv. hiding tonight - alex turner xvi. daisy - brand new xvii. over my shoulder - mika xviii. me and the devil - soap & skin xix. i’ve seen hell - north & south soundtrack xx. right where it belongs - nine inch nails xxi. out of my hands - dave matthews band xxii. something in the way - nirvana xxiii. sola sistim - underworld xxiv. boot camp - soundgarden xxv. hallelujah - jeff buckley xxvi. colourblind - scala & kolacny brothers xxvii. pieces of us were left on the tracks - library tapes xxviii. numb - barcelona xxix. world spins madly on - the weepies xxx. bathtub - waxahatchee xxxi. asleep - the smiths xxxii. hey now - augustana xxxiii. not your year - the weepies xxxiv. fix me - frank turner

nothing-rhymes-with-ianto:

spaces between my organs: a history of melancholia playlist

i. if i had a heart - fever ray ii. all apologies - nirvana iii. waste of paint - bright eyes iv. demons - imagine dragons v. closer - nine inch nails vi. the nothing song (njosnavelin) - sigur ros vii. svefn-g-englar - sigur ros viii. lights in the sky (i swear i’m here mix) - nine inch nails ix. 21 guns - american idiot the musical x. time code - bright eyes xi. i can’t make you love me - bon iver xii. icarus - bastille xiii. my body is a cage - peter gabriel xiv. this is a low - blur xv. hiding tonight - alex turner xvi. daisy - brand new xvii. over my shoulder - mika xviii. me and the devil - soap & skin xix. i’ve seen hell - north & south soundtrack xx. right where it belongs - nine inch nails xxi. out of my hands - dave matthews band xxii. something in the way - nirvana xxiii. sola sistim - underworld xxiv. boot camp - soundgarden xxv. hallelujah - jeff buckley xxvi. colourblind - scala & kolacny brothers xxvii. pieces of us were left on the tracks - library tapes xxviii. numb - barcelona xxix. world spins madly on - the weepies xxx. bathtub - waxahatchee xxxi. asleep - the smiths xxxii. hey now - augustana xxxiii. not your year - the weepies xxxiv. fix me - frank turner

(Source: punk-kieren-walker, via princepatroclus)

— 1 year ago with 305 notes
#playlists  #music  #oh my gosh 

Looking through old photographs, and good grief, sixteen-year-old-me was so bloody blonde.

— 1 year ago with 4 notes
#adventures in sophieland  #self