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ISTJ
Cinephile, comic freak (Marvel & DC), utterly unapologetic. Gay blogging central, NSFW content abounds, promoting the feminist agenda is my day job, etc.
(I'm demisexual, in case you're curious. And if you've got questions about it, feel free to ask.)
THIS IS A MARK PELLEGRINO APPRECIATION BLOG.
via moriartyownsthetardis (originally moriartyownsthetardis)
War Horse | Jim and Jamie survive WWII AU
Jim woke with a headache and the fluorescent headlight nearly blinding his eyes. Instinctively, he shut his eyes and made a mental note to open them slowly next time. After a few seconds had passed, he drew in a deep breath and fluttered his eyes open again, half expecting to see the room’s ceiling staring back at him. Where was he, anyway? The hospital? Hell?
What he saw startled himself senseless, though.
A pair of blue eyes was gazing right into his. “I thought you’d never wake up,” the blue-eyed man said flippantly. Jim tried to move, but his throbbing headache restricted the action, making him wince. His gaze flickered across the room – this was definitely not a hospital ward. It was someone’s bedroom.
But whose?
“What, are you disappointed?” the man asked, mirth in his voice and a misplaced charm that could be mistaken for haughtiness. Jim heard a crunching paper sound – he sat by Jim’s bedside, trying to concentrate on whatever headlines that caught his eyes in the newspaper. Jim narrowed his eyes in confusion, before shaking his head slightly. His throat chafed, unsure if he had any voice left to muster a reply.
“About what?” Jim finally said, causing the tall man’s lips to curve up in a wry smile.
“This isn’t hell,” the man replied, finally peeling his eyes from the newspaper and looked at Jim. That confirmed it. Hell couldn’t have been as aesthetically pleasing as this, unless the Devil was really trying to mess with his head. “Sorry about that,” Jim whispered quietly, suddenly feeling small and uncomfortable with the full attention he was given.
“I take it you want to die?” The query was so offhand that it took Jim a while to get around the question. “You gave up,” he added.
“I’m alive. It’s all that matters,” Jim sighed. He tried to smile, but his chapped lips cracked when he did so. Inadvertently, he ran his tongue along his bottom lip and tasted dried blood. He was well too aware that this man, with this abnormally blithe demeanour was watching every subtle move he made.
“You’re very much alive, Jim.”
“Thank you,” Jim said. “You saved my life,” he pointed blankly.
“True, but isn’t that what Majors are for? Look after his Captains?”
—
“So you’re leaving the army.”
“I am. Damn about time, too. I’m alive, I have a life. I’m going to live it.”
“Good.”
“You?”
“I’ll live,” Jamie says casually.
“Survive,” Jim reiterates.
“That too.”
—
Another I did whilst in London.
Major Stewart and Captain Nicholls of War Horse.
This is based on John Singer Sargent’s General Officers of the Great War.
Probably one of the most epic paintings I ever seen in my life.
our minds rebel - for Nata~
“I think I’m about to do something monumentally stupid.”
“Considering that’s all you normally do, I’m not surprised.”
Jim narrows his eyes, but says nothing. His lips press together in a thin line and he rubs his totem between his fingers in his pocket. The smooth metal facets of the locket help to remind him what they’re doing and why.
“The last job was mine. I screwed it up. I didn’t check his background thoroughly enough and we both paid the price.”
With a crisp nod, Jamie acknowledges the admission, and Jim knows that’s as close to forgiveness that he’s going to get.
He takes a deep breath, then rests his forehead against the cool muzzle of his Glock 22. “This is our practice run and we’re done. The last step was to convince the bastard to write his nephew out of the will but to do that, we’d need to get into a reinforced steel vault with a veritable fortress standing around it. I don’t know if you see the thirty or so guards standing around the barbed wire but I do.”
Jamie raises an eyebrow. “So you’re saying we just got set up? On a practice run?”
“Mhmm.”
“Dammit.”
“We went under half an hour ago. We have twenty minutes till our spotter comes back and does us in. We need to get out of here”
“How? We’re not waking up until the timer goes since we’ve got no one up top to pull us out.”
Jim wets his lips. “That’s why I said I’m about to do something monumentally stupid.”
He places the muzzle of his gun against his temple, breathing out smoothly as he focuses on the cool metal.
“JIM DON’T-“
He pulls the trigger, and everything goes black.
Let’s hope this works.
