wickedredhead asked you:
SOMETHING TO DO WITH LOKI BECAUSE I’M IN THAT KIND OF MOOD
“Is it a rock-paper-scissors thing?” Jim asked, stomach pressed against the sink, face nearly touching the bathroom mirror as tweezers carefully pulled select hairs from his eyebrows. Sebastian was toweling off from his shower, his bare stomach nearly grabbing Jim’s concentration from his grooming routine. “Like, Arc Reactor beats Staff, Staff beats… Hawkeye… Something something Tesseract?”
Sebastian tipped his head to the side in confusion as he wrapped the towel around his waist. “Where were you going with that?"
Jim pinched his eyebrows together. "Not…” he said, and plucked, “sure…” he finished through a grimace. It had been three days of Jim musing about Loki, and how he’d have gone about taking over the world if he were a Norse god. Jim was, of course, taking the exercise completely seriously. Sebastian was enjoying having a laugh after a month of hard jobs and a distant Jim.
Jim sighed. “Staff beats… oh sod that. Loki’s an idiot. He lets his emotions get the best of him."
"He also lets his ego get the best of him,” Sebastian said pointedly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Jim’s head. Jim waved him away.
“Don’t touch me when I have a tweezer this close to my eye,” he said, his voice distant again. Back in his head so soon. Sebastian backed off, kicking himself for what he thought was a gentle prod, but could have been a cutting insult to Jim. His face didn’t show.
“What would you do with Loki’s Staff then?” Sebastian asked from against the door frame. An attempt at bringing him back out of his own head. Sebastian smiled when he saw Jim’s eyes light up again.
“You know my technique, Bastian. Swift, silent, deadly. I wouldn’t be parading around with it, trying obviously to take over the humans. First I’d take control of…” he closed his eyes to think for a moment. “The CEO of the Coca-Cola company, probably.” He opened his eyes again, pulled one more hair from under the arch of his left eyebrow, and set the tweezers down with some finality.
“Coca-cola?” Sebastian didn’t always pick up on the large steps in Jim’s logic.
“Everyone thinks they’re the scissors, right? Shiny and sharp and clever? Well, I figure Coca-cola is the rock. They’re huge. They’re already set to smash the scissors of the people.”
“And you, my love,” Sebastian started, ignoring the terrible metaphor Jim was constructing in favor of humoring him. He wrapped his arms around Jim’s shoulders from behind and pulled him close to his bare chest. “You’re obviously the paper.”
“Light and agile, unsuspected. But ultimately the winner.” He paused, eyes locking with Sebastian’s in the mirror, a freshly tweezed eyebrow shooting into the air, mouth set in a firm pout. “And stop picking apart my metaphor. I can see you doing it in your head. It’s unattractive."
Sebastian laughed. "No, it’s perfect, baby,” he said with an eye roll, and turned to head to bed, leaving Jim to fume at him from the mirror. He’d wait alone in bed for a bit, before Jim climbed in with him, pressing their bodies together like every night. It’d start cold, but Sebastian would nuzzle the back of Jim’s neck, and Jim would turn in his arms, skin only warming because of their contact.
And while Sebastian knew Jim was rock, paper, and scissors, he also knew he was something a bit softer sometimes.
oh man, neither can i. i mean, i enjoy doctor who and supernatural and sherlock, but even sherlock hasn’t come close to pulling me so intimately close to the fictionalized world that i’m watching.
I like Doctor Who, but it has all of one time emotionally effected me in the moment (Vincent and the Doctor). (In retrospect, about 8000% of nine and rose, and certain aspects of 8’s radio dramas, but that’s really as I’ve had time to mull over things.)
Supernatural, I enjoy seeing it play out, but I haven’t finished season 8. (I… know what happens. I know it will do nothing but anger me.) (They treat these fantastic women as nothing but cannon fodder and I am so mad already.) (I was mad before [JO AND ELLEN] [ADAM] but I am even more angry now.) (And in general my criticisms could rip a whole in that show’s spleen for as much as I do enjoy it, so…)
I’m gonna level down with you, there was one thing that finally got me to watch Sherlock (Rupert Graves), and three things that kept me going on it (coughs out the words ‘mycroft’ and 'andrew scott’ and 'mrs. hudson’). And this is gonna sound heartless? I have never once cried over Reichenbach. I just… have not. It’s a beautiful, well-acted show, but it’s just… I must be missing an ability to care. (and I fucking hate the tendency among the fandom to demonize/infantilize/invalidate the Yarders and to blame Mycroft for the Reichenbach events.) (Feel free to jump ship or jump violently down my throat over that one, kids.)
But like… literally the only thing that was off, for me, about this whole season of Hannibal was that I would have liked (as many people have mentioned) to see some better attention to proper masking/hair-netting/shoe-covering/labcoating/Will why is your coffee on a table with a dead body/etc in the BAU lab, and possibly? Some of the murders seemed really grandiose (and mildly improbable), but I’m also personally willing to give Bryan Fuller some license on that because… well, in both cases, he’s even said it’s really meant to be more of a dark fairy tale than a real crime procedural. Not that it invalidates those criticisms, but if that’s ALL I can really find to truly pick at? God DAMN. The acting (who fucking knew Hugh 'King Of Cornball As Fuck RomComs’ Dancy could pull THISoff, for one fucking thing, not to mention the consistent and overwhelming disgusting and seductive subtlety of Mad Mikkelsen [to an American audience, at the very least], to see these other relative-unknowns just absolutely fucking kill it alongside all of them, to see Laurence Fishburne be domineering and intense and subtle in his own way without it being as hammy as it really could have been [USE THE LADIES ROOM will always make me laugh, but it was delivered PERFECTLY], to see Gillian Andersen and Gina Torres come in and leave us absolutely gasping for more, bringing their weight as who we’ve known them to be without it overshadowing THESE characters, and - and this is the most impressive one for my money, frankly - Scott Thompson playing a fucking fingerprint tech without me sitting and thinking about any given Kids In The Hall sketch but for the first moment I saw him?), the beautiful lighting and color scheming and attention to set dressing and interior design and visual homage to any number of horror icons and the shockingly unhammy use of nightmarish special effects? And the subtle use of the music, and the little parallels and callbacks and the absolute rounded-off well-plated perfection that was this absolute symphony of a season?
We’ve seen Will Graham’s descent into multiple layers of hell, and maybe he’s past one ring of it (the encephalitis), but I’m so fucking excited to see how he’ll claw his way back up out of this pit that I cannot even fucking begin.
There’s all of this beautiful underworld imagery - and everyone will make much of the hades/persephone archetype and the satan archetype (you’ll notice, for example, that in Ouef, Abigail was playing with a bowl of fruit - am I the only one who noticed that quince fruit? fun fact: in the text? it was a quince fruit, not an apple, that tempted eve in the garden at the tree of knowledge), and the idea of knowledge transfer as the root of a power dynamic, and as I said earlier: Will as a format of Inanna, descending all of these layers of hell and having to resurface, all on a quest for knowledge?