nedving is actually the dynamic of all time i've decided. like what if my religious guilt-driven inferiority complex and sexual insecurity led me to assert my tenuous authority as a lower ranking officer in increasingly detrimental ways and you were my superior, equally ridden with shame over your own feeble, scrambling attempts at leadership, yet i still persisted in looking up to you for your higher station despite your pathetic downtrodden countenance, socially submissive nature, utter inability to gain the favour of your own superior officers, and even your diminutive stature. and we were both boys. and also george is there.
I'm absolutely feral about Bridgens oh so gently placing his fingers over Henry's throat. I'm so fucking abnormal about it. Look at them. The way he cradles Henry's head. I'm going insane. I'm clawing out my kidneys. Look. At. Them.
& when I write a Russian revolution au that features Tom hartnell as a fervent Bolshevik and crozier as a haggard political theorist/successful farmer.....well what then. What happens when tartnell gets too excited and dies like Christ across hours of quiet fear and determination and crozier sits at the kitchen table and pens letters to Sir John and Fitzjames to beg for gravediggers and money for funerals and gravestones and there are meditations on war and youth and love and patriotism and poverty and living and the horrible sway of powerful men over young people who need a reason to fight
im actually so unwell that those tags aren’t enough. ‘that is an interesting speculation’ ‘what rank’s that dog.’ ‘like a dream, sir’ ‘you could have just joined up’ ‘the past tense is a very sturdy thing, gentleman, but it does take for granted one has survived’ ‘does that really work with anyone mr hickey’ ‘none of em ever wanted nothing from me!’ ‘at least love me enough to admit it’ ‘i felt forgiven of every poor, weak, or selfish thing’ ‘my nose it dont know horrible from supper. but i do. i do.’ ‘for our economy. for trade.’ ‘I will do. you will not.’ ‘more than god loves them.’ ‘ahhhh jopson. mr hornby’s dead.’ ‘CAPTAIN CROOOSHURE. HAD. A PLAN.’
Anthem for Doomed Youth - Wilfred Owen | The Terror | Carolina Low - The Decemberists | Study of a Hare - Edward Julius Detmold | The Tain translated...from Tain Bo Cuailnge - trans. Thomas Kinsella | The Chosen Ones - Pablo Neruda (trans. Alfred Yankauer) | The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb - Hans Holbein | Oh Captain! My Captain! - Walt Whitman