#mutiny at the nore

[ltwilliammowett]

Sword 1798-99

Small swords were items of male jewellery. By the 1750s, their elaborate gold and silver hilts, mounted with precious stones and fine enamelling, were the products of the goldsmith and jeweller rather than the swordsmith. They made fitting rewards for distinguished military and naval service. With their blades tucked away inside scabbards, it was their ostentatious and expensive hilts that carried their thrust.

This sword is inscribed: ‘PRESENTED by the Committee of Merchants &c OF LONDON to LIEUT.T FRANCIS DOUGLAS for his Spirited and active conduct on board His Majesty’s Ship the REPULSE. Ja.s Alms Esq.r Commander during the MUTINY at the NORE in 1797. Marine Society Office, May 1o 1798 } Hugh Inglis Esq.r Chairman’

Francis Douglas was rewarded for his role in suppressing a violent mutiny among sailors at the Nore, a Royal Navy anchorage in the Thames Estuary in 1797. According to an account by an eyewitness, published in The Sheerness Guardian 70 years later, the ship, Repulse, made a 'miraculous' escape from the mutineers reaching shore despite receiving 'as was calculated two hundred shot'.

[frontispieces]

Mutinies

So, who knew there were so many mutinies in the Navy? Well I didn’t. Apart from Mutiny on the Bounty, I had heard of not much of the (seemingly) many others. I am (still) on my research of a book about Admiral Duncan and the letter tucked inside, so if you haven’t read the relevant previous blog, you might find it a bit strange that I am writing about mutinies – don’t feel obliged to go back,…

[stoportotouch]

thinking deeply and academically about edward little today. i think he and hickey could have had quite an interesting dynamic if anything had ever come of that bit where hickey is trying to feel little out but little is not interested.

on the one hand. little probably has a far more personal and instinctual fear of mutiny than a lot of the other officers. since his dad was the clerk of the ship that sent the response to the spithead and nore mutinies. (and while goodsir is the Normal Audience Surrogate main character little is... arguably the Naval History Fan Audience Surrogate non-main character.) but, since spithead and nore was in part a response to mistreatment by officers, and since little and crozier are (or historically they were) from similar-ish backgrounds (little was a generation removed from working his way up but his dad very much wasn't. his mother was the daughter of a butcher and dad went in as an enlisted man and retired as a purser/paymaster), little is probably not just aware of that but uncomfortably aware of it.

we don't actually get to see little actively trying to undermine crozier even though like... i feel like he would try to do that passively or more sneakily. or he would if crozier wasn't onto him. i have said before that he is trying and ultimately failing to Play crozier by saying that a court martial is required when ships are lost.

which uh. sidenote but that is also a very interesting and dare i say even Telling exchange as far as character is concerned. little is saying "hey nobody here actually likes you, sir, and doing this is going to make more people than just the officers not like you" and crozier is saying "cool. i can do exactly the same thing back to you and i can do it better and in a more functional way."

unfortunately he and hickey are speaking completely different languages, figuratively speaking. also hickey cutting little's Boy Best Friend's dick off probably didn't help matters.

[andorology]

Sanguinity: Chapter 7 a rebelcaptain regency au

“To first understand Cassian’s life,” Lady Mothma began...

______

Jyn hears of Cassian's history with the Krennics from Lady Mothma. Bearing this newfound knowledge, she finds herself facing a difficult decision.

Read Chapter 7 of Sanguinity below the cut, or check it out on ao3! Rating T.

“To first understand Cassian’s life,” Lady Mothma began, “you must first know about his and Kerri’s parents, Cassandra and Kiernan. Cassandra, who was then Cassandra Dashwood, was the fourth child of a well-off family who lived in Liverpool. One day, in an attempt to momentarily escape her parents’ incessant and too enthusiastic attempts at marrying her off, she took to the ports to wander about and keep her mind off things. 

“There, she met Kiernan, who was a clerk and assistant for one of the merchants who had a small office there. His line of work, in particular, was translating on behalf of his patron’s clients who could only speak Spanish; he was incredibly fluent at it.

“He and Cassandra got off quite well, and soon, they fell in love with each other. Cassandra would sneak away from her home everyday to meet him, and eventually Kiernan found the courage to offer his hand in marriage. Cassandra willingly accepted it.

“It came as no surprise to the both of them, however, that when Cassandra told her parents of the engagement, they did not approve—The Dashwoods did not want Kiernan as a husband for their daughter. But this did not faze Cassandra, and was still determined in keeping her engagement with Kiernan.

"To this her parents retaliated still with an obstinacy, and one even greater. They gave her an ultimatum: if she married the man, they would cut off all material support for her for good, and never speak to her again.”

“But still, she chose him," Jyn guessed.

“She did, yes,” confirmed Lady Mothma. “But despite the threat of financial loss, you see, in actuality, the union did not mean any ruin for her. For while Kiernan was not wealthy, he was also not entirely poor. After they got wed, they moved and found a small cottage in a town called Fest farther up north, almost to the border of Scotland.

"They managed on their own, Cassandra and Kiernan, which, just a year later, led to the birth of their first child, Cassian. Five years later followed Kerri.

“But while it overjoyed the Andors to have a second child, this also posed a problem for them now. With two very young children to take care of, keeping the household afloat was now becoming more of a struggle to accomplish. Kiernan’s clerical work, while previously enough, no longer produced the amount of money needed to sustain his growing family.

"With the war against France escalating and the Crown needing more men to fight at sea than ever before, he found himself with no other choice but to enlist in the Navy as a seaman. They deployed him on a ship called HMS Celeste. 

“Fighting at sea was not without its constant danger, but for a while he was finally able to earn enough to send home to his family in Fest. This went on for seven years. By the end of that period, though, things began to change.

"In the wake of the kingdom’s still increasing tensions with France, the conditions suffered by sailors all across the Royal Navy turned even more abysmal than they had already been before. This was when mutinies amongst sailors became more prolific. You’ve heard of the Nore mutiny, haven’t you? That was just one of the many others that occurred at the time. 

“The crew of HMS Celeste eventually partook in one themselves, with the willing participation of Kiernan himself. At that point, their crew were dropping like flies at such a rapid rate; within the last five months alone, seven of them had died—not from fighting the French, no, but from famine, infections, or madness.

"So they decided that they had had enough of it.

“Their determination was strong, but the force with which the Crown responded was too brutal, even for seasoned sailors. Kiernan fought valiantly, but he was killed, the entire crew along with him.

“The conflict irredeemably wrecked HMS Celeste. This infuriated its owner, who had invested a great deal in the vessel.” She then narrowed her eyes at Jyn. “I think you can guess who he is, Jyn. There are only a few names known for investing in the trade during the Napoleonic wars, and you are very close to one of them.”

It instantly dawned on Jyn. Her heart sank. Quietly she said, “The Krennics.” 

Lady Mothma nodded.

Jyn fell into total silence for a few seconds, reveling in the realization. “Sir Orson Krennic owned HMS Celeste.”

“He did, yes. Now widowed, Cassandra, upon discovering this, appealed to the Admiralty for reparation for what her late-husband had suffered. She also demanded due compensation for his service, which, after all, he had rendered for the kingdom for seven years.

"But Sir Krennic, who had taken it upon himself to get involved in the affairs of the ship’s mutineers, convinced its captain (who had fought against his own crew) that no such recovery of damages should be given to her.

“Cassandra did not back down, however. Still she stuck to her demands, but Sir Krennic was equally unflinching; to settle the matter for good, he made a case for Kiernan’s descent, which was when things began to go really south for her.”

“Why, Your Grace?" asked Jyn. "What did Sir Krennic do?”

“He had found out that apparently," answered the duchess, "that Kiernan was not from England; his investigations tied him back to New Spain, where his entire family resided. And it wasn’t just any family, either; his father, it turned out, was a governor who held office in the capital.”

Jyn’s brows furrowed. “And was it true?”

Lady Mothma nodded. “It was. Sir Krennic found this sufficient reason enough to suspect that the mutiny in which he had a large part in leading was motivated by his covert allegiances to Spain—a kingdom which, by then, was still a staunch ally of France. This would make Kiernan Andor, in effect, a much worse traitor to the Crown, and therefore must be treated as one. He had made such a compelling case to the Admiralty that it was too easy for him from that point.”

“But that’s not really the case, was it not?" argued Jyn. "He was not really a spy for Spain?"

“Sir Krennic had presumed the worst intentions behind his actions, on the mere basis of that information about him."

"So if his claim was a falsehood, then what is the truth, Your Grace? Also, come to think of it, if he was the son of a governor, why was he all the way over in Liverpool doing small clerical work?” 

Lady Mothma gave her a small smile. “I believe that is a story for Cassian and Kerri to tell.” 

Jyn suddenly felt flustered. "Oh. Of course."

"Anyway," continued Lady Mothma, "because of it, in the end, Cassandra received nothing. She now had neither husband nor money.

“Kiernan’s death devastated her, that’s without a doubt, but the dread of raising Cassian and Kerri now all by herself took heavier weight upon her. How could she even take care of two children alone without a reliable income?

“It was also not easy for the children themselves, but the loss seem to have affected Kerri much more gravely. She was only seven at the time, and losing a father was a severe tragedy to her heart. To see such a young child grieve to such a sorrowful extent—it was a tough sight for a mother to bear. So Cassandra made her son promise not to tell her about what Sir Krennic had done in response to his death—she did not know how much more her daughter could take. Cassian gave her his word.”

Jyn briefly remembered the imposingly cheerful disposition of the younger Andor sibling, now in awe of the disjoint between the joy she so consistently exuded, and the grief she had experienced. 

“For the next four years,” continued the duchess, “Cassandra tried to make ends meet as a governess, but overworking herself had made her weak. Eventually her body succumbed to a terrible case of tuberculosis in the lungs. She was too tired at that point, so much that Cassian already knew, young as he was, that there was no hope for her recovery. And he was right.

“Cassian and Kerri became orphans since then, and Cassian, in particular, was afraid—as any sixteen-year-old boy would be. He did not have any money to inherit, and he did not know how to take care of his younger sister by himself. There was no one he could reach out to—the Dashwoods remained steadfast in their prejudice against the Andors, and he did not take his chances with anybody from his father’s side. He tried to work, but since none of what he made was even close enough, he had fallen into a state of debt. 

“One day, while he was trying to evade somebody who he owed money to, he snuck into a gentleman’s club to hide. There, he ran into Mr. Draven.” Lady Mothma then paused to ask Jyn, “You remember Mr. Draven from this morning? He was the barrister who briefly stopped for a visit.”

Jyn nodded, and in an instant, already got an inkling of what was about to happen next. Lady Mothma, as she spoke the next parts of the story, confirmed it to be almost accurate:

“You see, Mr. Draven had known all along that Cassian, what with his appearance and dress during that moment, was not a gentleman who frequented that club—anybody would have known, really. But Cassian did not fold under it and impressively kept his air, despite looking like he did not belong there.

"Mr. Draven knew then, as he listened to Cassian’s attempts at conversation, that he wasn’t pretending, not entirely; there existed in the boy a well of knowledge that could only be acquired from studying materials typical for gentlemen. He also found that he possessed the high ability to converse, to reason, and to think with such logic and erudition. It amazed him quite profoundly.

“Later Mr. Draven finally called Cassian’s bluff, and propositioned for him to be his apprentice in law. And Cassian, not one to let such an opportunity pass, immediately accepted. Eventually he began his education at Gray’s Temple. There he studied law for five years, then worked for the next twelve.”

Jyn fell into a state of quietude, reflecting on these events that had fallen upon Cassian’s life. “And now he is a successful solicitor,” she said above a whisper. 

“And has accumulated enough money for his and his sister’s more than comfortable living,” supplied Lady Mothma further. “But, despite things already being better for him and Kerri, I believe he’s still keeping his promise to his mother; it seems to me that he continues to carry that knowledge alone, after hearing what you two had argued about.” 

Jyn had reason to believe the same. Nothing in the explanations that Kerri had provided in her letter signified that she knew at all about what Sir Krennic had done. And recalling the events of Mr. Rook’s ball now, Jyn surmised that she had not even known of the Krennics until they’d met that evening.

A sense of dread immediately fell upon her, sinking her spirit to the deepest of depths. She could hardly look at the duchess now; she buried her face in her hands. 

“Jyn?” asked Lady Mothma, concern clear in her voice. “What’s wrong?” 

The things Jyn had said to Cassian during their argument in Vallt Park all came crawling back to her mind. She felt her face redden in shame. 

“Jyn?”

Jyn sighed. “I said some terrible things to him, Your Grace. I had always perceived his anger towards it, but I never truly understood the extent of it, or the reason for it, until now.” 

Lady Mothma did not speak, only offered her a look of sympathy.

Jyn finally managed to meet the duchess’s eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, she said, “I see now why he feels that way about the Krennics, and by extension, about me—I, who now intend to join the family. But I knew nothing of this, Your Grace. I had absolutely no idea.” 

Lady Mothma put a hand on Jyn’s shoulder. “I know you didn’t, Jyn.”

Jyn sighed again. “But now that I do,” she said, “I assume you are now to dissuade me from marrying Mr. Krennic.”

She held her breath, preparing herself for the duchess’s answer, and now trying to imagine her new future from this point hence. But what Lady Mothma said next surprised her:

“No, Jyn. I’m not going to do that.”

Jyn gave her a look of disbelief. “You’re not?” she asked. “But—but I thought that you disapproved of my match with him.”

Lady Mothma observed her carefully. Then she shook her head. “I think you have misconstrued me, Jyn. But I can see why you would think that way.”

Jyn just stared at her, anticipating an explanation.

“Look,” the duchess said, “I admit that I had harbored some doubt particularly in the beginning when I saw you and Philip, but I soon realized that that feeling had less to do with Mr. Krennic himself, and more to do with the surprise that I felt from your decision to marry at all—for I know very clearly how you feel about it.” 

When Jyn didn’t speak, she continued, “Jyn, I am not judging you for it. You must do what you must—I know what it feels like to be burdened with the necessity.” 

Jyn frowned. “But I still do not understand, Your Grace. Why won’t you talk me out of it now, after all this?”

Lady Mothma offered her a kind smile. “I cannot tell you what you should or should not do about Philip.” Then, when she sensed Jyn’s confusion, she said, “What I’m trying to say, Jyn, is that whether or not you still want to pursue a union with him is something you have to decide for yourself. I do not know him, not in the way you do. And yes, Sir Krennic had pulled a decisive influence surrounding the matter of Cassian’s father, but you must realize, those were his actions, not his son’s.”

Jyn stared, spending a few moments to take all the duchess’s words in. “Your Grace, are you saying that Philip is blameless in all this?”

Lady Mothma shrugged. “Perhaps he is, perhaps he is not. It’s possible he knows not of it even—he was only but ten when it happened. Here is what I know: people are complicated; they don’t always turn out to be their parents. Sometimes they do, yes, but a lot of the time, they also just don’t. We cannot quickly condemn Philip for something his father had done—the same way Cassian cannot condemn you for it.” 

When Jyn still didn’t speak, Lady Mothma finally posed, “So what do you think, Jyn? Do you think that you cannot trust Philip anymore because of what his father had done, or do you think that you still can, because you know for certain that he had no part to play in it, and that he cannot do such a thing himself? Only you can tell this.”

Jyn started to feel lightheaded. “My, Your Grace,” she breathed, “that is an impossibly difficult question.” As she even attempted to think about it, so many complications already tangled themselves up with each other in her head.

She felt as though suddenly all of life, which hung over her like a cloud, had begun to descend into heavy rain.

Lady Mothma gave her a sympathetic smile. “Most questions posed by life usually are, Jyn.” 

Just then, the curtains on the stage below began to part, and a painted and costumed ensemble began to move about to the rhythm of a melodramatic, orchestral overture. 

Just as the first singer sang her first note, Philip finally emerged from behind Jyn. She jumped in surprise. 

He leaned down within her earshot. “Forgive me for being a bit late, Miss Erso,” he said, before sitting down on the chair beside her. “It was the first time I saw my mates in months.”

Jyn did not speak, only stared at the gentleman, her breaths quick in her anxiety. 

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, smiling. He proceeded to lift a hand to feel his cheeks in jest. 

As she looked at him in silence, Jyn suppressed any reaction that would betray her current confusions. In his countenance she saw the face of Sir Krennic, and yet, all the same, she found it difficult to reconcile him as being the same person entirely. 

It was impossible to imagine that Philip would ever do the sort of thing that Sir Krennic had. 

She was utterly torn, so much that she could feel her mind practically splitting itself in half.

In the instant Philip sensed her mood, he quickly dropped his gaiety. With audible concern he asked, “Miss Erso, are you quite all right?”

The singer on stage began to sing a shrill note, the sound ululating in the air, against the walls, and straight into Jyn’s ears.

Still, she did not speak. 

Jyn had since then racked her brain, thinking of the right way to deal with her current predicament. Unfortunately for her, she had not been able to find the time to do it—for after the opera, Lady Mothma ushered them both immediately to Sir Organa’s dinner party, where Jyn’s attentions had all but been solicited by the host’s daughter, Miss Leia. 

On the one hand, Jyn was glad for the distraction, for discussions of various matters that interested her meant postponing what she wildly hoped not to discover about Philip’s complicity in the whole deluge (and she liked the lady’s company very much), yet on the other hand, she also felt as though she was only but sustaining the anxieties that did not seem to quiet down, even in passing time. 

By the end of the evening, Jyn was already too tired yet again, and Philip too it seemed, for he had already gone straight for his lodging. 

She only found the time for reflection, really, when the conclusion of their trip to Bath finally arrived. 

The goodbyes that Jyn and Lady Mothma had exchanged during the moment were bittersweet, and Jyn, overcome by a deep gratitude, had expressed her thanks for the guidance which the duchess had shared to her, and should now inform her next actions henceforth.

As the carriage rolled away, she suddenly felt alone, despite the companionship of the gentleman who sat across from her.

Philip looked at her with a curious expression. “Miss Erso,” he said cautiously, “I sense that something has been bothering you since the opera.” He leaned forward. “I wish you would tell me what it is.” 

There was no going around it anymore; it was time for Jyn to settle the matter. 

At first she hesitated, but soon managed to begin. “I suppose I’ve been thinking about a question, Mr. Krennic—a rather difficult one at that.”

“Yes?”

“I wonder if one’s sentiments and affections for a person can overpower their sensibility for what is good and what is not.” 

“What do you mean, Miss Erso?”

“Do you…do you ever think about what you would be willing or not willing to excuse, ignore, or look past for the people you really liked and respected?” 

Philip paused in thought. “That is a rather deep musing, I would say. I hope you are not torn about it, Miss Erso. It seems like a difficult question.” 

Jyn let out a quiet, dry laugh. “It is, isn’t it. Well, I’m afraid I must now rope you into thinking about it as well.”

Philip looked uncertain, but he tried for a smile. “Try me, then.” 

“All right.” Jyn cleared her throat. “What if, say, you discovered that—that your father had done something deplorable? What if—what if he had deprived a person of something they truly needed because he thinks they do not deserve it?”

Philip frowned. “Why would my father think they do not deserve it?”

“Because—” Jyn tried not to show her indignation upon the remembrance of the fact “—he just believes they do not.”

Philip hummed in thought. “But they do?”

Jyn nodded. “Yes, very much so. And in consequence, that deprivation ruins their life for the worst—forever.” 

“Upon my word, that is rather a conundrum.”

Jyn narrowed her sight. “Is it?”

Philip tilted his head. “You seem surprised, Miss Erso. Why would it not be one?” 

“You do not think that your immediate disapproval is due the act?”

When Philip saw the growing mortification on Jyn’s face, he quickly shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no, Miss Erso. That is not what I’m saying at all.” He took a quick pause. “What I only mean is that it is difficult. Say it’s your father—would you not feel the same way?”

Jyn beheld him in a way that made it seem as if the answer was obvious. “I understand the difficulty of it quite clearly. However, the presence or lack of that feeling should not signify what I should do about it. Honestly, Mr. Krennic, I think it should be quite simple. Why must we condone a truly terrible thing being done just because someone we loved did it? What does that say about us? Our principles and sensibilities? Ruining a life out of spite, Mr. Krennic—I do not think it should be that hard.”

Philip quietly sank into thought. 

“So to answer your question,” proceeded Jyn, “if my father had done it, he would not be exempt from the same disfavor I would give to somebody I neither knew nor have deep affections for.”

Philip looked ahead and out the window beside him, his mind running at full speed.

After a long pause he finally said, “You’re right, Miss Erso.”

Jyn watched him carefully. “I am?”

The gentleman nodded, surer this time. “You are. You definitely are. I would do what you would in an instant; if my father had done something of the sort, I would deplore him for it, too.”

Jyn fell silent, which encouraged Philip to say, “But the thing is, Miss Erso, I do not believe it would come to that point; the reason I’ve always respected and looked up to my father is because I know that he had not and will not do anything of the sort.”

Jyn grimaced. Quietly she said, “But what if I told you, Mr. Krennic, that he had?”

Philip’s expression fell. “What do you mean?”

Jyn stammered. She did not realize how difficult it would be to impart dreadful knowledge about one’s father to his son.

“Miss Erso,” urged Philip, “what did you mean?”

Jyn took in a deep breath, and with a heavy heart, began to tell the story of HMS Celeste and the Andors—leaving out, with due diligence, any detail surrounding the family’s life which was not necessary to Philip’s awareness. 

As she progressed through the tale, so did Philip’s look of terror and incredulity.

By the time she finished, silence fell upon them in the carriage. Philip did not utter a single word. 

After a while, Jyn could not bear the quiet any longer. “Mr. Krennic?”

Philip, whose gaze seemed distant, finally looked at Jyn. He shook his head. “Forgive me, Miss Erso. I am just...shocked. I did not know about this at all—this is news to me.”

“So you really did not know?” asked Jyn.

Philip shook his head with a forlorn, but earnest conviction. "I did not, Miss Erso." Then, with desperation he looked into her eyes. “My father really did that to the Andors?”

Jyn leaned forward. “You believe it, then?”

Philip hesitated for a moment, then answered, “I do not find any good reason to doubt your accounts, Miss Erso, nor Lady Mothma’s, for that matter.” 

Jyn dipped her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be.” Philip gave off a weak, wistful laugh. “It would seem that the fruits of our discussion will now be put to the test.” He looked at Jyn with a sad smile. “I understand now why you have been thinking about it, Miss Erso. It is clear that you disapprove of what my father had done, as anyone ought to, and you would now like to see where I stand.”  

Jyn felt her cheeks grow warm. “I do not mean to test you, Mr. Krennic. I know this must be a lot to deal with all at once, and you don’t have to say anything at the moment—”

“No, no,” gently interrupted Philip. “You are wise, Miss Erso, and you have served me well. You are right. My father had done something terrible, and I cannot just turn a blind eye to it merely because of my affections for him.”

Jyn gazed down to her lap.

“Be ill at ease no longer,” assured Philip. “I shall confront him about it when he returns from the East Indies, and then I shall make sure that he pays back what he has taken away from the Andors.” 

Jyn quickly looked up to face him. “How will you do that?” she asked.

Philip took a moment to reflect, then shook his head. “I…I admit that is something I do not yet know.”

They fell into more painful silence, and maintained it for a while. Philip, upon registering the uncertainty in Jyn’s expression, felt himself obliged to say, “I know it may sound vague, but you have my word that I will get it done, Miss Erso. I promise. If I am going to follow in his footsteps, I shall do it right by correcting his wrongs.” 

The proclamation stunned Jyn into more silence. It was something she did not expect to hear, but not something she didn't not want to, either.

Philip then leaned forward, and directly looking into her eyes, he asked, “Do you believe me?”

Jyn heard her own blood rush against her head. She exhaled air just as quickly as she inhaled them. She stared back at the Krennic son, and for a while did not—could not—answer. 

You must decide this for yourself, Lady Mothma had told her.

In all her life, whenever Jyn found herself at a crossroads, she had always relied on what she knew to decide which path to take forth.

She thought back on what she had always known of Philip. 

She decided to believe that. 

“Miss Erso?” the gentleman asked again. He watched and waited in near-agony for her reply. 

Jyn, meeting his eyes, took a deep breath. 

And then she finally spoke her answer. 

[zaftikat]

20 Questions

This is the most 2010s tumblr thing I can recall doing on this site, and I have participated in the supernatural fandom. (Tagged by @toopunkrockforshul )

ALL OF THIS UNDER A CUT

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Five, but like you know, I'm workin on it.

2. How many words?

16,320. 11.4k comes from one fic tho

Nine Worlds Series by Victoria Goddard (specifically: Greenwing & Dart and Lays of the Hearthfire)

Star Wars by way of @dangersquaremedia's Chicks with Dice

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

well, i've only got the 5 so...

1. It's just Intermundial Tax Law, how hard could it be?

2. On Escaping from Orio Prison

3. The Tanà's Daughter, or How Pinyë Got Her Groove Back (Hiatus)

4. If the Lady Wills it, Ever Onward (Ongoing)

5. The Poola Blossom

No because I'm afraid it might come across as weird? I don't read a lot of fic, so I'm not sure what the etiquette is?

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Implying I finish my fics instead of losing steam and forgetting them.

That said, when its finished, How Pinye Got Her Groove Back is going to be pretty fuckin angsty

Again, implying that I finish my fics.

The one I've gotten the most "this made me so sad" comments on is actually my happiest in my opinion. I wrote Intermundial Tax Law right as I was gearing up to move countries, and the story ends with the main character feeling confident and determined in his choice to leave home. That's the happiest ending I could have imagined at the time, because emigrating somewhere new is not a simple prospect, emotionally.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I write for very small fandoms full of predominantly very nice and supportive people. I would not change that.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I, a transfem on progesterone, have written smut, yes. The armpit licking kind. What other kinds are there?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I love a good AU, but I'm not super into crossovers. Just not my bag.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, I apologize to the thief for the sort of mauve hue to my prose.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but damn if I wouldn't love to have a yiddish fic

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I have ideas for a cowritten fic with @toopunkrockforshul ! its a wrestling AU

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

oh, maybe HMS Agamemnon. She was a 64 gun third rate who participated in the battle of Egypt and then shortly thereafter the Nore Mutiny. Laid up in 1802 in poor condition, and then brought out of ordinary in 1804 because napoleon was going to invade and they needed all the ships they could get. She took and demasted the Spanish 112 gun Santisima Trinidad at Trafalgar which is pretty cool.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

How Pinye Got Her Groove Back probably won't ever get finished because I've lost the mindset. Its a fic about dysphoria and coming out and as I get farther away from the direct experience its harder to set in my mind.

16. What are your writing strengths?

idk. it feels odd to talk about my strengths when I'm so very green at this. I think I'm pretty alright at knowing when to kill a darling.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to get lost in the middle between where I know I'm going and where I currently am. It slows me down a lot.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Like, maybe I could do Jack Aubrey quality french.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Greenwing & Dart

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

If the Lady Wills it, Ever Onward its just the most complex and well written thing I think i've ever done, and I can't wait for something else to replace it as my favourite.

I don't know enough people who write fic to tag them, so have fun if you want

[clove-pinks]

HMS 'Clyde' Arriving at Sheerness After the 'Nore' Mutiny, 30 May 1797, painting by William Joy, 1830 (NMM).

Following the Spithead and Nore mutinies of 1797, which saw British sailors rebel against poor treatment and low pay, aspiring Royal Navy officers required greater diplomacy and tact, even as employment opportunities diminished:

As early as 1800, passed midshipman Edward Baker recognized the limited prospects for gaining a commission: 'It is only by an instant and immediate application that I can hope for success as there are at this time near one thousand young men in my situation'. Young gentlemen also faced a changing social dynamic within the shipboard society which involved them on three distinct levels. The first dealt with quarterdeck authority as it related to a ship's people and the care with which it had to be administered in the aftermath of fleet-wide mutiny. The need for young gentlemen to be sensible of the delicate nature of their authority demanded a degree of personal and professional maturity that had, until then, been without obvious life-or-death consequences.

— S.A. Cavell, Midshipmen and Quarterdeck Boys in the British Navy, 1771-1831

Royal Naval Midshipman with a Globe, British (English) School c. 1800–1815 (Art UK)

[marryat92]

The mutiny at Spithead was soon followed up by that at the Nore; and the ringleader, Parker, like a meteor darting through the firmament, sprung from nothing, corruscated, dazzled, and disappeared.

— Frederick Marryat, The King's Own

'Richard Parker President of the Delegates in the late Mutiny in his Majesty's Fleet at the Nore For which he sufferd Death on board the Sandwich the 30th of June 1797': hand-coloured etching of 1797 in NMM collection.

[inn-witch]

billy budd drinking game: every time something homoerotic happens take a shot. at the end of the book you will have killed as many as the Nore Mutiny

[laidlawsrule]

There is perhaps no event in the annals of our history which excited more alarm at the time of its occurrence, or has since been the subject of more general interest, than the Mutiny at the Nore, in the year 1797. And then the murders began.

There is perhaps no event in the annals of our history which excited more alarm at the time of its occurrence, or has since been the subject of more general interest, than the Mutiny at the Nore, in the year 1797. And then the murders began.

— laidlawsrule (@laidlawsrule) May 11, 2021

from Twitter https://twitter.com/laidlawsrule

[captainflirt]

“Richard Parker, President of the Delegates in the late Mutiny in his Majesty's Fleet at the Nore For which he sufferd Death on board the Sandwich the 30th of June 1797.”

Parker was court-martialled and hanged on his ship, the ‘Sandwich’, on 30 June, ‘for having been the Principal in a most daring Mutiny on board several of his Majesty’s Ships at the Nore, & which created a dreadful alarm through the whole Nation’. The political message of this print is underscored by the fact that Parker is shown twice, heroically posed in dress reminiscent of French Revolutionary style in the foreground, but pointing with his sword to a hanged body (presumably his own) on the yardarm behind, as a warning to other possible lower-deck subversives. The print can therefore be regarded a visual equivalent of the, often repentant, gallows speeches rushed out in popular editions at this time after the public executions of notorious criminals.

Source: rmg.co.uk

[ltwilliammowett]

Drum, HMS St. Fiorenzo, 18th century

Drum said to have used to beat to quarters aboard HMS St Fiorenzo ( a frigate with 40 guns) during the Nore Mutiny, May 1797. The mutineers had ordered St Fiorenzo, anchored off Sheerness, to join the rest of the ships under their control off the Nore.  Her crew remained loyal and her captain - Sir Harry Burrard Neale (1765-1840) was eventually able to get her away into the Channel on the 31st May.

[theamericanparlor]

Presentation Smallsword with Scabbard, hallmarked for 1797–98                

James Morisset, British    

English, gold or silver-gilt, set with colored enamels, were the specialty of the London goldsmith James Morisset. The majority were created for presentation to British naval officers during the Napoleonic wars. This example is inscribed on the underside of the shell: "The Committee of Merchants of London presented this sword to Lieutenᵗ John Burn for his active and spirited conduct on board His M.S. the Beaulieu during the late mutiny at the Nore in 1797. Hugh Inglish Esq., Chairman."

[stoportotouch]

it is... a thought that edward little is the son of a man who was directly involved not just in the first naval engagement of the anglo-french wars but in the response by the navy to one of the first full-scale mutinies (spithead and nore). and then he's the one tozer tries to go for and genuinely convince to run away.

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 12 May 1797, the crew of the Sandwich ship anchored at Nore in the Thames estuary seized control of their ship. They were following the example of sailors at Spithead and Plymouth who mutinied the previous month. Several other ships' crews also mutinied, but some managed to be sailed away by their captains, retreating under gunfire from the mutinous ships. In addition to the demands made by the other mutinies for better pay and conditions, the Nore mutineers also demanded an end to the war with France. This was too much for the Admiralty, who were prepared to agree the material demands but not the political one. The mutineers escalated their protest by blockading London, preventing merchant vessels from entering the port. Some sailors' delegates made plans to sail the ships to revolutionary France, but when Richard Parker, who was elected president of the delegates, gave the order to do so, the other ships instead deserted and the mutiny failed. In the repression which followed, Parker and 29 others were hanged, 29 imprisoned, 9 flogged and others sentenced to transportation to Australia, however the majority of the men escaped punishment. https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/1122615051256977/?type=3

[tortoisesshells]

I have had to wade through some extremely Spicy Takes on the Spithead and Nore mutinies of 1797 from the 19th century American press today and suffered greatly for this knowledge. Therefore, I am rewarding myself with finally watching Damn the Defiant. Surely a movie about mutiny made in 1962 could not have any worse takes.

I'm gonna liveblog it, too. If you don't want to see me losing my damn mind over Obi Wan Kenobi trying and failing to be a Good Captain to his men while Syndey Carton deliberately abuses the crew to the point of mutiny, then at least temporarily block #polkaknox watches damn the defiant.

[clove-pinks]

I feel personally dragged by this tweet every time I come across something about England and/or maritime history that makes me think about Frederick Marryat and his books.

*sees something about the Solent* "omg just like a Marryat novel!"

*a reference to the Lizard* "just like sailing to England in a Marryat novel! 😭❤"

*watches youtube vid about the Spithead and Nore mutinies* "WOW just like that scene in The King's Own!"

*watches any early-mid 19th century period drama with the Royal Navy in it* "Getting a lot of Frederick Marryat vibes from this..."