#tawgo

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

what is going on why is TAWGO suddenly getting more readers ??

[spineless-lobster]

Alright so I was reading the wikipedia article for the limpet mine because I am Very Normal™ about the antics my favourite characters get up to, and I went down a rabbit hole about this guy who I believe to have somewhat inspired the character of the Captain. (long post warning, TL;DR at the end)

I present to you, Cecil Vandepeer Clarke, the man who helped develop the limpet mine. (the last name Clarke might ring a bell to those who have read There’s A War Going On by Glowinggreeneyes)

Born in 1897, (which could’ve been the Captain’s birth year) he first served in WWI as a second lieutenant. He did quite a few things but the main thing that I want to focus on was his achievements. He was rewarded the Military Cross medal for his part in the battle of Vittorio Veneto in Italy in 1918. If you’ve seen my other infodump post you know that in the Captain’s pilot design, he had the Military Cross (underlined in red) and the Italy Star (underlined in blue) as medals (which later changed). Now, the Italy Star was specifically for WWII but I feel like we can excuse that because of creative licensing and all that. I just think the link between Italy is interesting. The France and Germany Star and the War Medal are part of his canon design, so which ever part of his story that relates to that must’ve made it through the cut which is 👀

Clarke married Dorothy Aileen Kendrick and had three children, which isn’t that important but my brain won’t let go of “a friend of Dorothy” so there’s that.

Clarke developed the limpet mine during WWII with his friend Stuart Macrae. They had to think of a detonation technique (remember, they had to attach the mine to the hull of the ship. You can’t have your frogmen blowing up) they found that an aniseed ball (a type of candy that resembles a gobstopper, only smaller) left by Clarke’s children in his office disintegrated at the perfect rate in water in order to detonate the mine.

While they were testing the limpet mine, they had to make sure it didn’t get damp in any way lest the aniseed ball starts dissolving. So naturally they wrapped it in a condom while not in use.

I initially made this post because the thought of the Captain being all flustered next to Havers while handling a detonator wrapped in a condom was sending me into hysterics but uhhh I got a bit carried away.

The Captain mentions that the limpet mine used suckers to attach to the side of the hull. But in reality they used magnets to attach them to the ship, which was the idea from the start. So tbh I have no idea what he’s going on about.

Now here’s something interesting; Clarke worked on improvements with the limpet mine in a country house called Aston House, which was acquired by the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) in 1939. The mine was being manufactured by the Special Operations Executive (SOE) and the house was handed over to them by the SIS where it was known as Station XII (hm, oddly close to Button House XI don’t you think?) Clarke also developed many other weapons at the house. Aston House is in Stevenage, Hertfordshire which means literally nothing to me but it might mean something to someone else.

While developing the limpet mine Clarke had come up with the idea of an underground tank (which sounds cool as hell) and proposed his idea twice, the first time to the Ministry of Supply (which was rejected) and the second time directly to Churchill himself (who essentially said “that’s great, but we’re making one of those already”). Although he was put in charge of the “trenching machine” as he was made assistant director in the Naval Land Section, he grew to hate his job and was called for military service shortly after he left. (Hm, who else absolutely despises the navy? Perhaps our favourite little army man?)

Clarke was later promoted to captain (but acted as a major) and was stationed at Brickendonbury Manor (Station XVII) where he trained SOE agents. There he suffered a bone fracture due to a rough landing during parachute training. The wiki article doesn’t mention where the fracture was but if it was in his knees I might punch a wall.

Clarke was released from the army in November of 1945. He returned to Bedford where he joined the Territorial Army as a captain and served there for six years before being transferred to the Intelligence Corps. Later he ran as like a counsellor or something and was part of the Labour/Liberal Party, but I don’t think that’s very relevant. He retired as a major at the age of 60 and died in 1961. The wiki article doesn’t mention a cause of death (which is just poetic irony at this point) but it does mention that he had a non fatal heart attack. But non fatal means he didn’t die from it so ?????

TL;DR:

- Possibly same birth year?

- Similar(ish) medals

- Developed the limpet mine with a close friend

- Stationed at a country house (twice in the case of Clarke) during WWII

- Hate the navy (though that seems to be common amongst soldiers)

- Fucked up bones

- Worked in intelligence and weapons development

- Prominently known as a captain

- Died under mysterious circumstances apparently

I am leaving out A LOT of other information so there might be more connections that I’m missing. If you wanna learn more about Clarke and the limpet mine I found this article which delves further into the development and it was a very fun read.

I… I need to lie down

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

going over writing notes is so fun

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

Actual conversation between the Captain and Havers. Source: trust me.

The Captain had ushered Havers into the stone kitchen, insisting he sit and hold a frozen block of ice wrapped in a hand towel until the dizziness wore off, while he rifled through the medical kit.

“I apologise - it was not my intention to injure any of my unit, even if it would have secured the win.”

“I don’t understand how I didn’t catch it, or at least shield my face; I share part of the blame, sir,” Havers said, wincing despite the numbing of the affected area.

The Captain pulled out the mild antiseptic from its case, delicately unwrapping it. He stood in front of his wounded Lieutenant. “Come on. Show me where I hit you.”

“I wouldn’t quite put it that way.”

“There’s no beating around the bush, chap, I’ve banged you up pretty badly.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Havers lifted the makeshift ice pack from the side of his face and looked up. He had a long scrape from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, it didn’t sit very deep but broke through the skin enough for small amounts of blood to draw out. Around the apple of his cheek, bruising had already begun flaring up. On his uninjured cheek, he was blushing a peach pink.

“You’re already showing up in a lovely shade of mauve under there,” the Captain said before he could think. He had already placed one hand under Havers’ chin to steady himself and the Lieutenant. He bit his lip before he could say anymore and began dabbing the antiseptic to the exposed dermis.

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

I was tagged by the wonderful, the hilarious, the silly @bunny-banana to post a 'few lines' from a draft. cheers and danke bestie xd !!!

so i wrote something resembling words and hopefully soon i get to post it all. enjoy some of the only coherent parts of tawgo 2 electric boogaloo:

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“Say, Jane.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Why…” He gave pause. Reconsidered. Then shook himself free of all doubt. “How did Havers and I... How did we not get caught or reported? We shared a room for months, for crying out loud. Miller should have known, most of all, seeing as he was supposed to live on the same floor. Unless he’s not as astute as one once thought of him.”

“Oh he wouldn’t know homosexual if the definition was read out and demonstrated by Oscar Wilde,” she bit the inside of her cheek and the Captain must admit her wit was balm to the soul. “Honestly, sir?” MacKenny blew smoke out the corner of her mouth before tilting her head at her CO, considering him carefully, as if her next words would shatter his world. Maybe they would, the Captain thought. “I think everyone knew in the unit. And no one cared.”

Having decidedly never prepared for that answer, he spluttered, recoiling as much his eyebrows shot up north, evacuating from their usual - if confused - state. “Surely people said something to you?”

“I’m not a confession booth,” Jane laughed.

“Why-Why would you think everyone knew then?”

She squinted at him for a moment, recognition flashing behind her eyes. “I suppose there was one incident… When you and Lieutenant Havers were at the shops one night. We were all sitting together, having dinner. Remember you asked Thomas to come and help but he complained about a twisted ankle from cricket that afternoon? As we ate our mashed tatties, he said he was glad to not be the proverbial third wheel. The room sort of went... silent; poor Thomas, he thought he’d given you away - really fucked up - deadly scared, bless him - but everyone just nodded and hummed, and then went back to our shite food.”

“That was it?”

“What do you want me to say? What are you expecting? That we all heard you two at it like foxes? Or we all saw you reach under his belt in the library? Because you were both so careful, sir, you really have nothing to worry about.”

The Captain found his face heating up fast, from the apple of his cheeks to the tips of his ears and nose. Offsetting this discomfort making a home in his stomach, he cleared his throat. “Well that’s uh, that’s jolly good to hear.”

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im gonnaaa tag @m1nts @kiingbooooo @magnificentbastardanon and @spineless-lobster idk how many i should tag but oh well.... if yousuns want to share anything 👀👀👀

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

In honour of PSC’s interview, here’s the Captain and Havers dancing:

Momentarily, the Captain unplugged his headset and turned the machine’s output to its speakers, lowering its volume to a comfortable level. “It’s variety hour on the Forces Programme, so we’ll have to settle with the BBC Home Service, I’m afraid,” he said, mostly to himself, as the mature timbre from a woman’s voice crackled through the speakers, accompanied by a few wind instruments fluttering with notes at the high end of their range. He shook his head as he heard the recording mellowed out into a presenter. “They always play the most melancholic of tunes at night, do they not think some classical gusto or perhaps uplifting melodies would be more appropriate?”

“I think people want to listen to a song that reflects how they are feeling. And did you dishonour both Frances Langford and Falling in Love With Love in front of me?” Havers shook his head disapprovingly. He guessed that they could turn off their professional idiosyncrasies at this point, and he was glad to be rid of it.

The Captain suppressed a grin at his Lieutenant’s charming yet biting comment. “I suppose I did. But I did not realise you held any strong opinions about music.”

“I did not realise you held so few. Though, I should not be at all surprised,” Havers returned the shot, leaning against the back of the chair.

When he tilted back his neck, stretching and sprawling his legs out under the desk, the Captain glanced over the lengths of soft, exposed skin.

Remembering he should be offended by essentially being called uncultured, the Captain cleared his throat to shake off his flustering state. He unknowingly squinted at Havers in the same manner as when he was exposed to something queer. “Now, whatever do you mean by that?”

“I’ve never seen you dance or enjoy music: you never put on records of your own volition and whenever you turn on the BBC you prefer their breaking news, bulletins, and updates from the front. Would it hurt you to switch your brain off and enjoy a bit of this?” the Lieutenant gestured vaguely to the new song coming through on the airwaves.

“I-I enjoy the works of Vera Lynn; she’s got a wonderful voice. And the talents of Glenn Miller and his orchestra,” the Captain replied without considering an actual thought-out rebuttal.

Immediately, he recoiled; his first thought was that Havers would spiel judging words for his overtly formal talk and by virtue of holding such an inoffensive opinion - that was the reaction he had known to expect from anyone else. When he managed to look at Havers, he was met by a nonchalant expression and a raised eyebrow that prompted him to go on.

“To tell you the truth, Havers, I don’t think I have danced in my entire adulthood.”

“Would you like to?”

It was the lack of ceremony that caught the Captain off-guard by the proposition. If the past month had all been a dream, nothing marked the end of it quite as much as a dance. But reality demanded he react instead of replay the moment.

He stumbled to reply, unfortunately having the effect of being uninterested; he’d had all kinds of thoughts about the Lieutenant in their time together, but not one was ‘uninterested’.

Havers hung his head, lightly laughing away his suggestion. “I apologise. You don’t want to dance with a man.”

“No! No- I-” the Captain struggled to string a sentence together in his head, let alone verbalise anything. Thinking quickly, he got to his feet and extended his arm down with his palm upturned. He knew he didn’t look the picture of a dancer, or that he was particularly handsome enough to ask to dance, but he wanted to try in the safe presence and direction of Havers. “They’re playing Moonlight Serenade… it’s my favourite.”

Havers considered the outstretched hand, only briefly, before slipping their fingers together as he joined his CO on the makeshift dance floor. The Captain stood close, his eyes capering over the man holding his hand as if he hadn’t long-admired the Lieutenant’s almond eyes and heart-shaped jaw and, well, his quite strapping arms. He coveted the features of his second-in-command every day, never bored of beholding them: the pointy tips of his ears, the brown stubble that lightly scrabbled beneath his skin, and the sculpture of his lips.

Something - or things - had changed within the Captain, gradually. Then the other night, in the shed with his Lieutenant, marvelling at their limpet mine, revelations had rained down all at once like comets falling across the sky above. He could no longer ignore the younger man standing before him, already providing serendipitous companionship and neat ends to his beginnings. He’d come to accept what he felt was more than a mere fondness for Havers; he wanted his heart to decide on his idolatrous fate, though his head wanted to know if Havers was receptive to more. Above all new revelations, it was that ‘if’ which hurt most to think about.

Briefly recalling Officer Jones’ enigmatic words on New Year’s Eve, and luckily not those of his father, he conceived that he was hurting himself. He could fend off his family’s expectations from beyond their graves for now. They had served their purpose, they meant well, but his new life at Button House had demanded he had to change. Perhaps too quickly. There was no time to unpack all that; there was a War on, after all.

They had a restrictive space to move in, shutting down the opportunity to practise dancing in any traditional styles, so Havers led them to the centre of the floor’s open square feet and decided the song deserved a slow-pacing movement. He instructed the Captain to place his free hand on his waist, where his uniform belt sat, while he held the Captain’s shoulder.

“It’s in four-four time, so start by stepping outside foot outside, inside foot outside, repeat, together, then change direction,” Havers demonstrated in small steps.

Eye to eye, it was initially much harder for the Captain to concentrate on how to move, enamoured by Havers’ easygoing guidance. In spite of this, he copied the instructions, mirroring his movements. The Lieutenant drifted between stages of the dance self-assuredly, ignoring every mistake and continuing on. Fairly soon, the Captain got used to the rhythm and lost in the song, though his heart stuttered where words would fail should he have had to speak. The proximity was dizzying.

Havers was soon happy enough to introduce another part to his lesson.

“Like a circle, then together, apart,” he reassured as they turned around in the office together.

It was a little clumsy at first, with almost every step nearly causing a twisted ankle, until the Captain had steadied his arms and strides. The song didn’t demand more creative actions so they switched between the two gaits. The Captain nervously laughed once they had successfully changed direction, but he kept his head up like he was told. Havers always carried himself with governing conviction which continued into the dance; the Captain enjoyed being subordinate for once.

The orchestral Serenade ended with a melodic coda of wind instruments which they matched with smooth, gliding pivots.

As the song faded into another instrumental piece, this one somehow slower, they didn’t let go of each other. They kept watch of the other man, looking for the slightest hint that they should call it off and step back, but that never came.

“Hold me closer,” Havers directed soothingly, “the song… it’ll suit it better.”

The Captain moved his hand, almost paralysed from being held so still on Havers’ waist, around the man’s back until it could nearly cup the other side of his torso. There, he let it relax, and slowly his body melted from its previous rigidity. Their hips were almost pinned together, in fact when they started moving it was hard to keep any distance between their bodies.

Havers was nearly in raptures when he felt the Captain take on the leading role. When they pulled in their still-interlocked hands close to their chests, the rest of the room dissolved away into a shallow blur.

“Are there any more moves for this sort of song?” the Captain asked, trying to cover his drying throat and scratching vocal chords.

“Not exactly. By this point, couples would rest their heads together, maybe the woman would place her head on the man’s chest or shoulder. It’s meant to be a sensual moment. Some songs, like this one, are meant to be heard by only two people at once. Together.”

As Havers’ friend, the shared intimate space was sacred and Orphean. In uniform - as the Lieutenant’s CO - he suddenly felt disturbed. Thoughts intruded on his serene moment, biting at his contentment with guilt-ridden rhetoric. It was in his own voice, his father’s voice, every superior’s voice, that these thoughts flooded his working memory.

How could you be so selfish? How could you betray your rank? Your country? Your sensibilities? How dare you abandon hierarchy and the War and proper priorities? How could you allow your mind to be corrupted? Are you that weak?

Again, the friction in his mind overwhelmed him easily. “Sorry, I think the tiredness has hit me all at once,” the Captain said as he broke off their embrace.

But Havers kept him close, holding the Captain by his waist then quickly moving his hands to a more appropriate grasp on his biceps. He held the Captain’s gaze, unwavering. “Something has been troubling you for a while now.”

(They need to have many difficult conversations; but locked in the arms of the other it is a bit easier)

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

happy one year to the google doc for the longest ghosts/capvers fanfic (?)… its been through so much, all before its first birthday… it should’ve been at the club 😩

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

Under the Mistletoe (this definitely happened, I was there)

After turning out the final lamp in the Hall, the Captain journeyed back to meet Havers in the kitchen. It seemed as though the Lieutenant was going to meet him in the foyer, which was how their bodies came to gently run into each other.

“Oh, sorry-” he muttered, hands flying to hold Havers’ shoulders as though it would soften their collision.

“Sorry-” Havers said simultaneously; his apology was mismatched by his light grasp on his CO’s buttoned chest. They swayed for a moment, both visually acknowledging the flora above them. “It seems we’ve taken in enough drinks for the whole unit.”

“Yes. Unfortunately. I’ve already indulged your curiosity too much and now we can barely walk about without causing trouble,” he said, perhaps stupidly, with a slur and a smirk. And then, losing the battle of another internal conundrum, he said something worse: lowly and misarticulated, “if you were a woman, I would have liked to kiss you right now.”

An immense pang of regret rang through his ribs as soon as he knew what he had said, which took a few seconds. In that time, Havers had stepped back to physically part them. Panic rose in the Captain. Had he been a maudlin, conceited fool and flown like Icarus? Had the ice-cold of reality been melted by his cosy, fiery fantasies of their relationship, or had that flame been extinguished in one fell misstep?

He prepared his lungs to ramble an apology, to excuse himself from Button House and Havers’ life forever, only to be stopped by the sarcastic smile and rolling eyes of his friend.

“You do intrigue me, sir. Often.” He smoothed out where his hands had held his Captain’s jacket. The CO felt it through the layers of fabric, reaching out to something deeper so that it would emerge. His heart fluttered, but it fluttered closed, unsure of the ambiguous nature of Havers’ expressions. “But you tease your true self just as frequently.”

“I’d prefer to keep it-keep it hidden.”

“As you wish. But do not blame me when I ask more of you.”

“I will not.” The Captain ducked his head and shook it, squinting at the ground as if to inspect the space between them. He then reached into the kitchen to extinguish the last light, distancing himself from the man that made him unguarded, more than the alcohol, more than the fatigue. “We should… Go. To, uh, our rooms.”

A flash of disappointment rippled across the Lieutenant’s expression, though the Captain could only dismiss it as a delusion or mistake on his part. Still, caught in the moment, locking eyes, he almost convinced himself to collide under the mistletoe again.

“Yes, sir. Goodnight.”