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blessed-but-distressed · 6 years ago

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#FindEmmaSwanAFriend

Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she’s winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU

also on ff.net and ao3

Tagging: @katie-dub , @wholockgal , @kat2609 , @whovianlunatic, @optomisticgirl, @ladyciaramiggles, @the-lady-of-misthaven, @emmaswanchoosesyou, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @biancaros3, @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky, @ms-babs-gordon @ab-normality, @andiirivera, @fangirl-till-it-hurts, @onceuponaprincessworld , @natascha-remi-ronin and whoever else asks me.

A/N: Yep. It’s been forever. And to add insult to injury, this is only Part 1 of 2. But umm... yay content?

***

SOS. My boss is wearing a powdered wig, and a guy in US flag speedos and nothing else just spilled punch down my dress. ES

What's this? A damsel in distress? Sounds like a perfect opportunity for a certain bearded gentleman to swoop in. One with cocktail knowledge and combat experience. Where is dear Rambo tonight? KJ

Don't call him that. And he's in Belfast, doing research. You know, like academics are supposed to do? ES

Ah, yes. Research. I've heard of it. KJ

That's it? No daring rescue plan? We have a code T here. ES

Code T? KJ

T for Transparent. As in, my dress. From being soaked through with punch by that asshole. Am I painting a clear enough picture? ES

I assure you, the image is extremely vivid. You might've led with that. Where is this damnable affair taking place, again? KJ

***

Emma

It wasn't that Emma was ashamed of where she came from. Not exactly. Recent election results aside, she had to acknowledge she hadn't ended up teaching American History by accident. Even when her country frustrated her, you had to admit, it was never boring. It was just...

She'd never been a foreigner before. Not really. A week in Cabo. That time Mary Margaret had forced her to third-wheel on a couple's ski trip to the Laurentians. Because that wasn't awkward at all.

But if she'd thought her American-ness would be a novelty in Scotland, she'd been seriously deluding herself.

Between the onset of summer vacation, the Instagram-worthy architecture and the enduring appeal of Jamie Fraser, there had never been more Americans in Edinburgh than there were at that moment. The Outlander Effect, they were calling it.

And Emma couldn't exactly miss them. They were everywhere, and not just herding en masse down the Royal Mile. On the bus. Crowding into the Jinglin' Geordie on Open Mic Night. Talking group assignments in the Starbucks line. Hell, a lot of her own students came equipped with homegrown accents, her class allowing their studies to mesh seamlessly with the syllabus back home.

Most encounters were pretty jarring. Like listening to your own voice played back on a recording.

Do I really sound like that?

She hoped not.

Did it really take me that long to figure out it isn't pronounced Edin-burg?

No comment.

Do I really have trouble translating common anglicisms?

Only sometimes.

Usually when they came out of the mouth of someone like Will Scarlet, and she couldn't tell if he was using some highly localized Derbyshire dialect, or if he was just fucking with her.

Sure, Killian tried a little too hard to sound like some kind of dashing 17th-century buccaneer most of the time, but at least it was still recognizable as a form of English. With Will though, she could never really be sure.

Still, after nearly a year, she liked to think she had a handle on things. She could order a 'Laphroaig' without completely mangling it, and knew enough to keep an umbrella on her person at all times. And if and when her cravings for American snack foods struck, they were being plenty satisfied by her local Sainsbury's, who kept one shelf fully stocked with all of the Twinkies, Peanut Butter Cups, and Lucky Charms a girl could ever wish for.

So when her Head of Department was looking for volunteers for their annual Fourth of July barbecue, Emma had to admit she did try to get out of it.

It was her own fault, really. It was summer. She should've been sunning it up in the Algarve with the rest of her colleagues, day drinking, and returning her skin tone to a less deathly pallor. Instead, she was the sucker who'd been roped into teaching Summer School classes to a revolving door of international students, who were keen to let some of the school's reputation rub off on them, without the three or four year commitment. Every three weeks a new lot arrived, and Emma's life descended into Groundhog Day as she repeated her lectures anew, reliving the same debates and excuses on a constant loop.

So she only had herself to blame when the department head went looking for warm bodies, that hers was the only one still lingering in the corridors.

"Great!" her boss said, clapping her hands together. "Don't forget to wear something festive!"

Festive.

There was no way this wasn't going to be a disaster.

***

The damsel in distress line might've rankled her, but she had to hand it to the guy, he came through.

Fifteen minutes after she'd barricaded herself in the bathroom after The Fruit Punch Incident she was summoned curbside, arms still determinedly crossed over her chest, to where a black cab sat idling, an incorrigible Englishman leaning against it holding up a leather holdall.

"Does Elsa know you went through her closet?" she asked, eyeing the bag.

"Who do you think paid for the cab?" he grinned.

Emma really needed to send that woman a fruit basket or something. Did people still do that? Send fruit baskets? Elsa would know. She probably went to one of those fancy Swiss finishing schools, where you learned shit like that.

The bag even smelled expensive as Killian handed it over, his eyes dropping for the first time to properly take in her ruined outfit, and lingering.

"Don't even say it," she warned, as he fought to suppress a grin.

She was never wearing a white sundress again. Ever.

"If anyone could pull it off..." he began, but a warning finger cut him off.

The picture of innocence, he raised his hands and stepped away. Which was precisely the moment Emma realized they were not, in fact, alone.

"In a spot of bother, milady?" came the cheerful greeting from the figure still wedged into the backseat of the cab, waving at her.

Robin. Attractive single Dad Robin, with the Oxbridge accent, criminal mastermind father, and good sense to keep his eyes averted.

"What the hell?" Emma hissed under her breath, whacking Killian in the shoulder. "Are we charging admission for my humiliations now?"

"Easy, lass," he said, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him. "I was out with Robin when you texted. I was hardly going to leave him on his own, now was I? Not very good form."

She glanced back to where Robin sat, whistling to himself, then back to Killian. "Oh, so now you're the honorable one?"

"What's this?" he scoffed. "An attack on my character? And after I've orchestrated such a dashing rescue? A fair maiden in distress and I'm on the spot."

The indignation would've been a little easier to swallow if his grin hadn't been quite so… wolfish.

"Yeah, right," Emma said with a roll of her eyes. "Like this isn't making it into your column."

He didn't deny it. He didn't need to. Just offered her a clumsy wink, and motioned to the building before them.

"One good turn deserves another, don't you think?" he suggested, and Emma's stomach dropped. "How does one merit an invitation to an exclusive gathering of expatriates, exactly? Do they check passports at the door? Make you recite the Pledge of Allegiance?"

He held his prosthetic over his heart, and affixed a solemn expression.

"Wrong hand, asshole," she said, grabbing his wrist and tugging his hand back down by his side.

"Probably for the best," Killian shrugged. "I confess I don't actually know the words. Does the School of Rock version count?"

"You seriously want to go up there? You know they're celebrating their independence from the English, right?"

"I'm a journalist, Swan. An arbiter of truth. Would you really deny me the materials I need to make an honest living?"

"You're a hack," Emma grumbled, clutching the bag of clothes to her chest.

"Aye, that I am," Killian agreed, dropping his voice at least an octave. "But a rather dashing one, don't you think?"

So this is how Killian Jones got what he wanted. The ol' razzle dazzle.

It wasn't entirely ineffective. With a huff of annoyance, Emma walked over to lean by the window of the cab. "What do you say, Robin? Want to see my countrymen cut loose and fight about politics?"

He tilted his head, considering her offer. "Do you really put marshmallows in your sweet potatoes?"

"Different holiday. But yeah, we do."

"Alright then," he said, gathering up his belongings where they were strewn across the back seat. "I'll be there presently."

Rapping her knuckles against the side of the cab, she turned back to Killian, who was looking unbearably pleased with himself. Even more than usual.

"Lead the way, lass" he declared, with an exaggerated bow.

"It's a little too late to play at being the gentleman, don't you think?" Emma pointed out.

"Oh?" he asked, his gaze unnervingly direct. "And why is that, Swan?"

If he was trying for intimidation, then he really didn't know Emma well enough. Instead, she simply turned to lead the way back up the stairs to the front stoop, bag swinging by her side. "I'm just saying…" she replied in a sing-song voice. "A gentleman wouldn't have looked."

***

When Emma pictured a Fourth of July barbecue, she pictured hot dogs, hyperactive neighborhood kids with water pistols, and sunshine. The Edinburgh version was something very different.

For one thing, it was not a family affair. For another, she doubted you could even really call it a barbecue, when there was no grill in sight. And unfortunately, for Emma, the party was still in full swing when she returned after her costume change, all of her dreams for a quick getaway evaporating along with the last of the punch.

If anything, the numbers had swelled with a sea of Uncle Sams and Lady Liberties spilling out into the garden, wine glasses in hand. If Emma hadn't already realized the gross pay disparity between educators and administrators, the garden would've really sealed it.

You couldn't swing a Heriot Row townhouse on Emma's salary. Hell, you couldn't even swing a Heriot Row parking space on Emma's salary. Yet somehow, the university muckety-muck who'd been bullied into hosting this little soiree didn't seem to have that problem.

At least the booze was free.

Emma looked longingly over at the refreshments table, but gave it a wide berth. The last thing she needed to do was ruin her borrowed sweater. It was a little on the tight side, but she did appreciate its fuzzy warmth. Even as she wondered if Killian had purposefully picked out the preppiest sweater he could find, or if she was just cursed.

"Hey," came a call from her left. It was a guy in a Captain America outfit, with none of Chris Evan's dimensions. "Ivanka, right?"

Emma looked down at herself, wondering if that was the name of the designer. "I'm sorry?"

"You're dressed as Ivanka Trump, right? Nice."

He was gone before she could deny it, and she glanced back to the gilded mirror in the hallway in alarm. With her hair recently straightened, she had to admit to a passing resemblance. If you squinted.

Oh god.

She had to find the boys and get them out of here, before she was pilloried as a Republican infiltrator.

She scanned the crowd, but the only person in a leather jacket she saw was channeling Maverick from Top Gun. Frustrated, she headed out into the garden, where she spotted Robin, cornered amongst the shrubberies by a very determined looking woman in a Wonder Woman costume.

Was Wonder Woman even American, technically?

Whatever the debates on her true origin, Emma had to admit the woman pulled off the look, even if the cleavage spilling out from the neckline of the outfit was a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. She was fully fixated on Robin, her fingers trailing up and down his arm, laughing at one of his anecdotes.

As she walked by she shot him a questioning look, in case he needed an assist, but he just gave a wink, and started in on a new story.

Hot Single Dad Robin still had it. And something told her he wouldn't be up for any plan that involved cutting out with her early.

Heaving a sigh, she liberated a Coors Light from an icebox and took another turn around the garden.

"Ivanka?" Another woman asked, her look practically accusatory.

"Elle Woods," Emma blurted out. The sweater was baby blue, not pink, but it was the best she could come up with on the fly.

Hurrying away from that interaction, she rounded a pillar and finally came upon her quarry, sitting alone on a bench beside a gurgling water feature.

"And here I thought you'd be the life of the party," Emma said, snagging the space beside him. She gestured towards where Robin was getting half his face mauled off by Wonder Woman. "Was every other member of the Justice League taken?"

She was rewarded with the ghost of a smile, but his gaze was still fixed ahead, not really seeing, as he rolled an unopened bottle of Budweiser between his fingers.

"You okay?" Emma asked, taking the bottle from his hand and removing the cap with a well-placed tap against the side of the bench.

"Where'd you learn that little trick?" he asked, ignoring her question as he accepted the open bottle.

"A bus shelter in Framingham, Massachusetts." It was more detail than he was expecting, and she nearly laughed at the sudden brightness in his eyes. "It was my first beer. You kind of remember stuff like that."

"You has your first beer in a bus shelter in Framingham Massachusetts?" He repeated it back, like there was something especially weird about that.

"Yeah. I was 14, and in between foster homes. Stole a six pack from the Stop and Shop after the clerk told me off for browsing the magazines. And then some old army vet at the bus shelter showed me how to take the cap off against the side of a trash can."

He furrowed his brows. "You're trying to get me to open up by revealing things about yourself. Which you never do."

"Maybe," Emma offered, taking a swig of her beer. "Is it working?"

He took a long sip on his own bottle, made a face, and then settled it back into his lap. "You mentioned a brush with the law, as a teenager. I'm assuming that wasn't for underage drinking at bus stops?"

Emma grimaced. "Not so much. Possession of stolen goods, with intent to sell. I got lucky. The watch I had on me was worth just shy of $500. They knocked it down to a misdemeanor and I got probation."

"You stole a watch?"

"No, my skeezy boyfriend stole a case of watches. I just happened to be wearing one when he called the cops to frame me while he took off to Canada with the rest."

"When he what?! Please tell me this wanker is dead in a ditch somewhere." Emma had to admit, she didn't mind his tone. Like he might go out and finish the job, if need be.

Emma shrugged, picking at the label on her bottle. "Probably. I never saw him again after that."

"So that explains it," Killian huffed.

"Explains what?" Emma asked, preparing to get defensive.

"Your Walsh fellow's appeal. I'm guessing he wasn't the larcenous type?"

Oh. Not even remotely.

"Yeah, he was the kind of guy who washed out his jars before he put them in the recycling. He was kind of the anti-Neal."

"That was his name? Neal?"

"Neal Cassidy," Emma sighed. "And yes, like the writer. He had it changed when he was 18 as a Fuck You to his Dad."

"Well, he sounds like a right tosser."

Emma snorted. "Yeah, pretty much."

"And not all that clever, if he thought losing you for a case of watches was an even trade."

That had Emma looking up, sarcastic retort on the tip of her tongue. But instead of making fun, Killian's expression was deadly serious, eyes meeting hers directly. Like he actually meant it. Emma's gaze flicked back to the label on her beer, nearly entirely peeled away by this stage, and fought to keep her face level.

"You think so?" she asked, her words coming out less jokingly than she intended.

"I do."

It was the answer that had her looking back up again, a frown forming. "Killian, I-"

"You're worth at least two cases," he added. "Maybe three. I mean, what are we talking here? Cartier? Rolex?" His eyebrow was raised again in that familiar roguish way.

Emma let out a breath, and extinguished the tiny flame that burned somewhere inside her stomach. Friends, she reminded herself. They were friends.

"You're hilarious," Emma replied deadpan. "And if we're going to continue sharing, I really need something stronger than this," she said, tipping back her head and draining the last of her bottle.

"When I was looking for extra chairs earlier, I think I saw a wet bar in the study. Fancy a dram?" Killian asked, rising to his feet.

"Oh, so you're journalistic snooping does come in handy sometimes?"

"More than sometimes," he said with a grin that would fell a lesser beast. And suddenly Emma wasn't so sure the flame was truly out.

Later, she still couldn't recall whether he'd held out a hand to take her empty bottle, or to help her up. All she knew, was as they moved from the garden back to the party proper, she had Killian's hand in hers.

***

Reasons Not To Push Killian Jones Up Against The Nearest Wall And Have Your Way With Him:

1. Hello, work event. Have some goddamn professionalism.

2. You're wearing Elsa's clothes. Don't make this weird.

3. You like him, and never talking to him again would suck.

4. He would definitely allude to it in his column, and you would have to emigrate. Again.

5. Graham. Oh, fuck. Graham.

***

The upstairs study was everything you'd expect from an overpaid university administrator. Soft red leather furnishings. Framed certificates covering an entire wall. A solid oak desk that could, hypothetically, bear the weight of two people at once.

And, oh yeah, the promised wet bar.

Emma was not, nor had she ever been, a cheater. And even if she and Graham were still only in the "getting to know you" phase of tentative texts and PG-13 cocktail hours, she knew betraying that would still be a shitty thing to do.

So when Killian offered her the glass of whisky, she didn't do what she wanted to do, which was down the lot and drag him towards her by the collar. Instead, she sat on the red leather couch as far from him as possible, and held the glass in front of her like a shield.

"Reminds me of your jacket," he said with a smile, letting his hand glide against the upholstery. Emma's skin still tingled from where his hand had gripped hers, so unused to foreign contact.

She took a gulp of her drink, and let it burn down her esophagus in penance for her crimes. Only once she'd regained sufficient control of her hormones did she speak.

"So, are you going to tell me what's been up with you?

"Up with me?" Killian replied, his oh-so-innocent look oh-so-unconvincing. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know," Emma said, rolling her eyes heavenward. "The sudden phone emergencies. The brooding. The black eye. You've been different lately. Kind of… subdued, for you."

In answer, Killian drained what was left of his glass, and turned to face her. "Perceptive, aren't you, Swan?" He didn't sound happy about the fact.

Emma shrugged, taking another sip. "You can't kid a kidder."

He considered that, finger tapping absently against the side of his glass. "Perhaps not. Very well then. The truth: The magazine is broke."

It wasn't what Emma had been expecting. What had she been expecting? A secret drug habit? Abusive new girlfriend? Fight Club?

"Broke?" she repeated.

"Utterly. But instead of accepting the inevitable, and bowing out gracefully, my brother, well-intentioned idiot that he is, decided to take what was left in the coffers and make a few wagers."

Emma's heart sank into her stomach. "He didn't."

"Oh, he did. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, apparently. Lost the lot. Bloody prat. Thought he'd come back a conquering hero. Instead he's having to dip into his own savings to keep the whole operation afloat until he can find a way to pay back his bookie."

That explained the black eye.

"And no one knows about this? Don't you have accountants or something?"

"There is a fellow, Tim, who's been covering for him. Let him take out the entire balance in the first place, didn't he? So now he feels equally culpable. So there's Liam. Tim. Me. And now you."

"Elsa doesn't know?"

"Not in so many words. She isn't bloody stupid though. He's been decidedly distracted on the homefront. Probably thinks he's having a mid-life crisis or an affair or something stupid. Would be easier to just tell her, but the problem is, he knows if she finds out about it she'll feel obligated to help."

"Well, that would be a good thing, right? No more, uhhh…" Emma waved a hand over her eye.

"Well, when Elsa's parents died, they left her a good deal of money. Most of it went towards the house, and setting up her sister in New York, but there's enough left to get Weaver off his back. Problem is, my brother's pride would never let him accept it. And then there's the matter of Elsa's aunt."

"Elsa's aunt?"

"She owns the magazine. And let's just say, she's not quite as err… understanding as Elsa can be. If she gets word of it, there'll be criminal charges."

"Fuck."

"Fuck,' he agreed, leaning forward in his chair to pour himself another whisky.

"And you've just been carrying this all around on your shoulders for what? Months?"

"But what magnificent shoulders, wouldn't you say, Swan?" The grin was almost leering, but not in a good way. More in a defense mechanism kind of way.

"Don't do that," Emma chided, leaning over to smooth the wrinkle above his brows with her fingers. "Just be you."

"And how is that?" He asked, with a look of such genuine curiosity that her hand paused somewhere in the region of his jaw.

"Same as me," Emma shrugged. "A little fucked up. A little scared."

She leaned forward then, and placed a kiss on that same spot above his brow.

Maybe it wasn't where she'd wanted to kiss him five minutes ago, but it felt right. She heard him inhale sharply underneath her, but she didn't immediately break contact. Not until his face relaxed, and his arms came up to wrap around her waist.

She let her head fall onto his shoulder, and his on hers, breathing each other in. Comfortable fucking silence.

Only when her phone started chirping in her pocket did she pull away at last, steadying herself on his shoulders. "You're going to be okay, Killian Jones. You and your fucked up family."

The grin was wry, but it was real.

"You going to get that?" he asked, ducking his chin down to where they were practically intertwined. Probably best not to add vibration to the mix.

She fished the phone out of her pocket, and checked the caller ID.

August.

He never called. He sent ten page letters typed up on his pretentious vintage typewriter, but he never called.

With a look of apology, she peeled herself off of Killian's lap, and hit accept.

"August? Is someone dead?"

"Em! Where are you?" Wherever he was, he sounded cheerful. And just a little bit drunk. Well, it was the Fourth of July.

"Where am I? I'm in Scotland, where I'm supposed to be. How much have you had to drink?"

"Nooo," he corrected, words slurring a little. "I mean, where right now? Someone in your department told me you were at this party. But no one remembers seeing you. Are you here?"

Emma's stomach lurched. "Party? You mean, in Edinburgh?"

"Of course, in Edinburgh! The party I'm at, it's at… hang on," his words muffled as he conferred with nearby partygoers, "17 Heriot Row?"

Oh. Fucking. Fuck. Fucking August and his fucking surprises.

"I'll be five minutes. Stay right where you are."

Feeling the color drain from her face, she ended the call, and tucked her phone back into the pocket of her borrowed jeans. "We need to get downstairs. I need to-" She looked around for a mirror, but there were none in the vicinity. Of course.

"Lass?" He had her by the elbow, holding her still. "What has you all a-flutter?"

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. "You remember I mentioned my friend August?"

"Knee still creaks when it rains, August?" The boy did have superior recall. "Novelist August?"

"Yeah. Anyway, he's downstairs."

#cs ff #cs au #findemmaswanafriend #look who's back from outer space?#cs au ff

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ayankun · 7 years ago

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GOTHAM

insanely rambley HUGE spoiler-ridden seasons 1-4 thoughts under cut

FIRST OFF LET ME TELL YOU I GOT CHILLS

Secondly, let’s think back to how I felt about season one. A little loose in the narrative, not so much weaving threads as having threads, ones that you keep expecting to pull tight but more often than not just get dropped for other, shinier threads. All leading to a surprisingly effective character-driven season finale that hopes to prove to you that a few meandering plot points can still add to a sum greater than the parts.

(Oswald goes from umbrella boy to King of Gotham, Bruce Wayne starts at the site of his parents’ murder and ends up taking his first steps into the Batcave, Jim enters as this black-and-white idealist and winds learning from a mob boss that even good men sometimes get their hands dirty to get the job done. A socially awkward unrecognized genius has a psychic break, leading ultimately to the fall of Edward Nygma and the rise of the Riddler.)

Season two is a blur. A period of transition from Jim “Good Cop” Gordon Fistfighting Corruption into... Gotham City: Arkham Asylum’s Backyard. Think how much season one was about only Fish Mooney vs Falcone vs the GCPD and Cobblepot doublecrossing everyone he meets, and how much seasons two and three and four were about the Riddler and Valeska and Tetch and Ra’s al Ghul (and Valeska). We have the bring-everyone-back-to-life at Indian Hill period to thank for the sudden left turn into the Strange.

WHICH IS NOT A COMPLAINT.

There are so many types of Batman stories, and there’s a time and a place for both Joe Chill and Killer Croc. Gotham started in one and always knew it was headed for the other.

And B.D. Wong as Strange is a DELIGHT and I really appreciated his dynamic with Miss Peabody. Speaking of, the bomb defusing scene was a real gem omg lololol give the woman some damn water already.

At the same time, the Fish storyline was like WHOA what EVEN is haPPENINg at any given moment. And it ultimately didn’t amount to much? There’s so much waffling between the surviving gang camps where everyone’s either got a kill-on-sight order or a owed-life-debt to each other and the pendulum swings back and forth so quickly it’s not really worth holding onto how anyone feels about anyone else. That dead/MIA character will come back or the rivalry will be revived or the long-held grudge will be recalled if and when that plot point is going to be drafted, but other than that everyone’s friends and that’s ok.

And like. Ivy??? Ivy Pepper??????? Why is that ride so wild??? There is no cause and effect, only next next next. It’s insane. Maybe watching this all at once rather than over the course of four years lends a different perspective, but holy cow. Such a ballsy way to do whatever with a character you never had a plan for.

Which brings us to Barbara Kean?! Season one she was there because they knew she was a Mythos Character but then they were like, wait, whateven is she for though? Which is a fair question, since having her be the Little Lady Trophy Fiance meant she was a boring and needless character wasting space, not standing on her own and hardly informing Jim’s character either. So what to do, what to do. How about we kidnap her, put her through some insanely cruel physical and psychological abuse, make her a psycho-revenge-bride, put her in a coma, have her come back as a 100% Arkham Villain, give her a hench(wo)man, have the henchman KILL HER, have Ra’s al Ghul waltz up out of literally nowhere and say “lol, borrow this arcane mojo for a minute, I’ll want it back later or will I” and now she’s a kingpin of Gotham’s underworld with her own mini League of Assassin?!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Like. Even if they never had a plan going into it, I’m pretty okay with most of what they came up with. Better than the lil wifey hanging out at home and having one passing remark about curating a gallery that we never saw and was never mentioned again.

Better off a once-crazy, once-dead mafiosa than the less inspired handling of Miss Kringle. I won’t even get into that trainwreck I-only-exist-to-validate-manpain-of-my-murderer wait I said I wasn’t going to get into it.

So Nygma! Like I said when I got started with the show, the season one Edward Nygma was crafted as this painfully unsympathetic offbeat loser and I think they fully succeeded with that characterization. The emergence of the Riddler persona was a welcome change, an upgrade, a spit-shine into something clean cut and confident and stylish. But I like that, compared to the Penguin, the posterchild for evil-psychotic-villain!Protaganist, for example, they held on to a lot of Nygma’s unlikeablilty in that he’s still an ass, even more of an insufferable egoist, and SO CRAZY he can’t even read himself (which was a big thing about the character before he split in half, so in itself that’s pretty great).

I don’t know. Maybe you like him and I’m supposed to like him. I think he’s exactly what he ought to be, and while I'd never want to see him marched off a peer with a bullet in his back, I’m more than happy to see his fellow villain-Protagonists knock him around once in a while. Penguin and Mooney and now Lee (?!) and Zsasz even are the kind of villan!Protagonist you really root for. But if it’s any one of them vs. the Riddler, they’re definitely not going to lose. Nygma’s like in his own category of villain!Protagonist Antagonist.

Of course, the post-Arkham-proto-Riddler who was running Oswald’s mayoral campaign, now HOT DAMN that was a storyline I could get behind. I almost actually believed they were going to do something great in the Nygmobblepot arena and that was a magical moment. I think the resulting blood feud, as painful of a 360 as they come, was a sounder storytelling decision and more in line with the show’s Schroedinger’s Frenemies mentality.

And his season four storyline with the Ed Nygma persona challenging the Riddler was a nice full circle. Sort of closing the gap between this raging banana nutball and the razor-sharp criminal mastermind he could be if tried. Not SUPER THRILLED with his creeping on Lee but, with all due respect, that’s par for the character so again I say I don’t think I’m meant to like him??

I just spent half this rant on the Riddler so I guess they’re doing something right.

Ok so Cameron Monaghan’s VALESKA TWINS. Let’s get right into it, shall we.

Holy smokes they did everything right on this one. Loved the Primal Fear treatment of his introduction, and the way this random circus kid just so happens to start displaying jokey traits that astute viewers will start to suspect that this could be the big bad we’ve all been waiting for --

and then they kill him.

WOW

I was so ready for this kid to grow up to be the Joker, and they rip that dream away and replace it with an idea that anyone can grow up to be the Joker, and damn if that isn’t the nicest treatment of the character’s fractured and obfuscated origin story. But. THEN!

THEY BRING HIM BACK and it’s everything you wanted him to be. He’s just so good. There’s just the right amount of (IMO, anyway) Hamill-homage in what is otherwise a fully imagined Character who is instantly recognizable as one of many iterations but at the same time outclasses them all. The high-level narrative and dialogue stuff, the stuff they create for him to do, I mean, is all great. And then Monaghan brings this manic A++ game to the table and blows it out of the water. Best Joker performance? Arguably so, especially when you consider

JEREMIAH VELASKA because this kid can’t stop having stellar Joker performances. He’s like, two and a half, three of the best Joker performances on the books. Jeremiah’s distinct visual style, the characterization, AGAIN with the obfuscated we-are-legion origin story hocow. NO COMPLAINTS HERE.

Anyway so if that’s what we get in return for sending Fish Mooney through a narrative meat grinder, then I guess it’s an even trade.

Pengiun. What to say about Penguin. I loved what they gave him in season two, a ton of character stuff because his plot stuff of rags to riches had played itself out. I felt real bad for his mom, but I really liked that he went and made himself mayor, and even while his story arcs tend to go riches to rags and back again, it’s never not a pleasure watching him claw his way up to where he thinks he ought to be.

For the most part they do a good job stringing together these different Protagonist story-groups, keeping in mind that most of these groups serve mainly as antagonists amongst themselves (when they’re not being buddy-buddy to serve some winding end). So when you get the villain!Antagonists you can really tell the difference. I got a little yawny while we were setting up Fries, and by the time we finally locked Tetch up for good I was very grateful. These will never be main characters and the show knows it and wants you to know it, too. So while they’re the main on-screen villain, it can get a little stale because the same effort isn’t being put into their lasting appeal.

Um. Jim Gordon. Another thing I liked about season four was a strong return to GCPD bidniss. Season two there was a lot of GCPD, but with Captain Barnes and the strike force and Galavan, so it was a completely different narrative animal than what Gordon was throwing down with in season one. Then Gordon goes to prison and after that he doesn’t go back to GCPD until well into season three, and by then the story’s about Mario and Tetch and Lee and omg I forgot about Valerie Vale until this very moment whoops.

As was hinted in the season one finale, Jim Gordon went on a very twisty path through the mud before he figured himself out again. Killing Galavan was like WHAT JIMBOY and that wasn’t even the worst of it. What I liked most about his stint as a PI was the character’s eventual acceptance that the law isn’t the be all and end all of righteousness, and that there are other means available when enforcing peace and justice. Not necessarily by killing every evil mayor you come across with your own two hands, but the eye-opening to the virtues of vigilantism is super important when you realize he’s going to be Batman’s main ally down the line and this time in his life is going to be what ultimately allows the future police commissioner to legitimize this kind of shadowy ninja behavior.

Anyway, in season four, Jim kind of comes back to roost at the GCPD, and finally ousting Bullock as Captain was rough but obviously warranted, and with only one season left that was a good time to do it. Harper was a nice addition and I’d like to see more of her as a standalone character. (Similarly, Fox has fit in nicely with the cops, but I’m not overly hankering to see more of his day to day antics.)

What was my real point? I really liked the Gordon vs the GCPD dynamics of season one, and while obviously that’s not a story you can tell forever, it did inform the sense that the police force is a living entity that can serve you very well if it trusts you, but before that can happen you really have to jump on its back and break its will LOL.

Also, remember Renee Montoya and Harvey Dent? Yeah, I don’t either.

SO BRUCE WAYNE, MY FRIENDS.

Gotham is my very most favorite Bruce Wayne story, and much as Batman: TAS is my forever-reference for most Batmany things, Gotham is going to be my heart-canon for Bruce Wayne origins.

It’s one thing to say, “ok so this rich kid watches his parents get murdered in an alley, and from this moment on he vows to do something about it and makes himself a master detective/martial artist who puts on a mask and a cape and runs around at night smashing thugs’ heads in for justice” like it’s a foregone conclusion, a straight-forward A-to-B process, and a wholly other thing to show us, step by step, how he learns to become the thing we all know he’s going to become.

In season one he was this quiet, morose but driven child who didn’t know what to do with this crisis he’d been handed. He’s a kid who sits in a pool with his whole clothes on, trying to hold his breath for as long as possible because he has no idea how else to become better prepared for handling his issues. But he has Selina and he has Alfred and he has Fox and he has Jim Gordon, and he will have the Court of Owls and the Valeskas and Ra’s al Ghul who will all play a part in handing him pieces of himself until he has a full set.

He started with this strong sense of right and wrong, a deeply seated desire to put his talents and his money to some sort of use, an earnest diligence towards bettering himself in all ways, and little by little he gets shown just how much of a fragile and defenseless baby he is. That time Alfred accidentally-on-purpose clobbered him in the eye -- that was the moment Bruce found out they’d all been pulling their punches with him and that he still had so so so far to go.

Of course, at the particular moment, he was going through a well-earned rebel without a cause phase (which will do him well when he calls on those behaviors for the benefit of a wider audience), so I don’t think that realization hit him at the time. BUT I NOTICED. Sure he’s got a bulletproof suit and he can look Jim Gordon straight in the eye now and he can fling himself off rooftops like a champ (and when Alfred gave him the keys to the Batmobile I cried a little), but he’s no Batman. Not yet. Not quite yet.

But you can see without a shadow of a doubt that he’s gonna be! Instead of this “Bruce Wayne woke up as Batman” story, we get a look at all the day by day choices and experiences that inform, shape, and depend on Bruce Wayne’s core identity and the way that they will collectively create Batman.

Now, David Mazouz may not have the character acting chops of a Pinkett-Smith or a Taylor or a Monaghan, and he may not be as comfortable living in a everyday character like Pertwee and Logue do so effortlessly, but there’s a steeliness a Bruce Wayne should have, a hauntedness, an idealistness, that Mazouz emotes in spades. Sometimes his Bruce Wayne does a stunt or pulls a pose that Mazouz KNOWS is Batman territory, and while his awareness of “I’m doing a cool thing look at me doing it” is a little distracting--it’s also SUPER EFFECTIVE and I fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

I’ve always been one of those fans who’s way more interested in the lives and characters of the secret identities (compared to the heroics of the super identities) so hot diggity dog is this the show for me. All Bruce Wayne all the time. When we he does put on the mask, it’s all the more powerful for knowing who exactly is wearing it and what’s driving him to do these borderline insane things.

Not 100% sold on Ra’s’ “I saw this in a dream” strong-arm prophecy, feeling like it steps on four years of Bruce Wayne’s self-determination. Not 100% on how they introduced him and his aims and his baffling reincarnation(s). But I am 100% on the pronunciation of “Ra’s” because I’m aware that Kevin Conroy et al figured it out somewhere between TAS and Arkham Asylum, but it’s something that they never quite got in Arrow. (Oliver consistently uses “raysh” but everyone else is a grab bag between that and “rawz”.)

For that matter, David Mazouz consistently pronounces Ra’s with two syllables, so there’s also that. Wait, hold on. In Gotham they also draw a hard line between Ra’s al Ghul, the man, and “the demon’s head,” some sort of mystical power of time travel and flashlightiness. Give one point to Arrow for not being that bizarre.

Long story short, the shot at the finale where Gordon’s waiting on the GCPD rooftop with the spot light and Bruce Wayne stalks up behind him was BEAUTIFUL. (They also did the thing some episodes earlier where Bruce peaces out on Gordon when Gordon’s mid-sentence with his back turned and I laughed a lot)

Looking forward to their take on No Man’s Land. Here’s a short story for you at the end of this long story:

One time I was reading No Man’s Land volume by volume from the library. It was tough because I checked the first time and they had the full set, but then you never knew that the next one was going to be available when you went in for it.

So I get out of the car one day and look there’s a quarter on the ground. Neat. It’s mine now!

Going into the library, there was a cart of used books for sale by the door. 25 cents each. Hell, I’ve got a quarter now, let’s see what they got.

What they got is the No Man’s Land novelization. For 25 cents, or, in my case, free.

So I read that instead, and turned out I liked it way better than the source comics. I have a hard time reading comics? I tend to not look at the pictures, and certain art styles aren’t my jam. Also when it comes to narrative capabilities, there are different tools and effects inherent to each form, and I appreciated the literary treatment and the internal voice it brought to the table that the comics couldn’t.

Also the author said in the note that his method was to sit down and jam out minimum 2000 words a day and that’s still a feat I admire.

Anyway, that’s my long winded take on Gotham. Not perfection, but certainly a respectable and authoritative representation of a subject matter we all know and love. I give it my second favorite Batman portrayal (behind Kevin Conroy and above Adam West) and my absolute favorite live-action Bruce Wayne, hands down.

#Gotham

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haltandcatchfiretothemax · 8 years ago

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Halt and Catch Fire Wardrobe/Accessory Appreciation: Donna's Watch.

Because I, too, am an earth sign lesbian who likes and wants nice (even if not super expensive things and at least one other person on here (*cough* @theresebelivett *cough*) is interested in this detail: watches are generally status symbols. Of course you can now find affordable watches, but 'nice' watches, especially fancy Swiss watches with their very fine inner non-digital workings, are surprisingly expensive. The most well-known high end watch brand is arguably Rolex, and if you put 'rolex average price' into google, an article titled '5 Affordable Rolex Watches for New Collectors' come up. The cheapest watch in this article costs over $5,000 USD.

[Image set: Donna’s first scene in season 4, in which she sits down at the head of a conference table and promptly flips over the face of her watch. Good morning to you, too bby ;> ]

What kind of watch is Donna wearing, though? It's hard to see clearly, and my eyesight is Not Great, Bob! so I couldn't even tell if there's a face on the other side. But I put 'reversible watch' into google, and found a watch buying advice column (…no, really) that said the following:

The reversible face watch was invented in 1931 buy another Swiss company called Jaeger Le Coultre (henceforth JLC)…in response to complaints from British soldiers stationed in India (so, occupying a colony) who were upset about their watch faces getting broken during polo games. (No...really.)

The only reversible face watch worth buying today is a JLC Reverso.

I looked up the Reverso and JLC, and it looked an awful lot like what Donna is wearing in the premiere. When I asked google, 'halt and catch fire' 'reverso watch', a reddit thread came up. Redditors think it looks like a JLC Tourbillon, JLC Grande Reverso 976, or JLC Reverso Classic Small. The last one is the only one currently listed on the company's website. Price tag: $4,150. The highest price on the same page is $48,000. But most of the prices fall between $5,000 and $25,000 USD.

All of which is fascinating-slash-disgusting but we want know what it means for Donna, not the watch itself or how much it costs, right? This is Donna Emerson we're talking about though, so the brand and the price matter. True to form (or, canonical aspirations), Donna isn't wearing any old watch, she's wearing an expensive timepiece with a long history. And she's not wearing just any old expensive timepiece with a long history, she's wearing one that's considered a classic and that seems to be highly recognizable to people who know their luxury watches. So, it is certainly an intentional indicator of wealth and status for Donna.

Watches and time are also about power and ownership. Because Donna reverses the watch face when she meets with developers who are seeking funding, I thought that there might be a stopwatch or timer on her watch, but none of the Reverso models seem to have that feature. (Though, there is definitely something on the back of her watch, it looks like it might be the actual guts of the watch, which the Tourbillon model has, and hoo BOY it costs more than most people in the US make in a year.) Also, I think that the show would have shown us that more clearly if that was the point.

You know the expression time waits for no man? Time comes up a lot in the premiere: how long it's been since they heard from Cameron, how much of a jump they had on Mosaic (a year I think?) and how they blew it, Gordon's birthday. Even the title, “So It Goes” could mean ‘time goes on”. And finally, that scene where Donna gives the developers in her office 24 hours to come up with a new idea. One of them nervously chuckles and says, "Uh, that's a mighty quick turnaround...." Donna smiles and says, "Yes, yes it is." And SCENE. When you're in Donna's office, it's not about time. There's only Donna Emerson, and she decides the fate of your project.

[Image: Another scene from 4x01 in which Donna is HBIC and seated at the head of a conference table, and her watch is clearly visible. ALSO: do you see how huge the watch face looks here? Looks like she might be wearing the ‘men’s’ version, and tbh I’m kinda hot for it]

Finally: Donna changes or flips the face on her watch -- 'face' can also mean 'persona', right? Donna seems pretty generally bossed up, but I think she gets to put on a different face in those meetings. That’s where she gets to be her most ambitious, professional, visionary and invulnerable self; when she flips the face on her Reverso, she gets to put away her human, sensitive, flawed face, and to finally be who she wants to be.

#ugh I can't #also now I kind of want one of these F M L #donna clark #donna emerson #halt and catch fire s4 #4x01 #so it goes #halt and catch fire to the max originals!#original halt and catch fire to the max analysis!

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aion-rsa · 6 years ago

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Joker: DC Comics Reading Order - The Best Stories With the Clown Prince of Crime

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Has the Joker movie inspired you to read some comics? We've got some suggestions!

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The Joker is the most recognizable villain in all of comics, and as such, there are as many takes on him as there are creators who have worked on a Batman comic. Fortunately for us, for every Jared Leto out there, there are fifteen awesome comic stories. So if you’re coming out of the Joker movie with a thirst for more good, thoughtful, interesting stories using the Clown Prince of Crime, we’ve got some comics for you.

Batman: The Killing Joke

This is probably the most influential Joker story of all time. Alan Moore’s dense psychoanalysis of the Joker is formative to just about every writer who came afterwards, and Brian Bolland’s stunningly gorgeous pencils combined with John Higgins perfect colors to create an eerie, dark, vicious story that has become the generally accepted origin for the character.

read more: The Many Joker Origin Stories Explained

The story bounces back and forth between showing how an unnamed, down on his luck schmo got wrapped up in a heist that ended with him at the bottom of a pool of chemicals, and showing that schmo, now a criminal mastermind, kidnapping Commissioner Gordon and trying to drive him to the same kind of mental break that the story implies is at fault for the Joker’s creation. It’s the first one to really draw strong parallels between the Joker’s mental state and Batman’s, casting the two of them as two possible outcomes to the same break.

And did I mention it’s incredible to look at? Whether you’re a comics scholar or new to the medium, I can almost guarantee you’ve seen that cover, with the Joker holding a camera sideways in front of his face telling you to smile.

Buy Batman: The Killing Joke on Amazon

Batman: The Man Who Laughs

Ed Brubaker isn’t often talked about as a seminal Batman writer, but he’s defined entire swaths of Batman’s world over his career, and The Man Who Laughs is a big one. This book, drawn by the great Doug Mahnke, takes a look at the Joker’s first interaction with Batman. He’s poisoning people all over Gotham City, and he has a plan to poison the reservoir. Batman works to stop him.

It’s a much more straightforward, less avant-garde Joker than he can get in later times, but the story is told with a modern sensibility and outstanding art from Mahnke. Brubaker (and Greg Rucka, who we’ll talk about in a few) writes detective Batman as well or better than anyone in a generation, and The Man Who Laughs is full of really great detective work with Bruce piecing together who the Joker is and what he’s trying to do. And the fight sequence at the end of the issue is good, classic, straight up Batman/Joker brawling. If you want a way to ease into Joker stories, this is a great one.

Buy Batman: The Man Who Laughs on Amazon

The Joker’s Five-Way Revenge

It’s not often an entire character can be distilled down to a single panel of comics, but Neal Adams effectively did that in Batman #251. Adams is a tremendous artist who changed the entire industry with his panel layouts and action sequences, but the Joker’s “ta daa!” hands and his smile next to a bearing down shark as he says “We resemble each other!” is incredible.

read more: What the Joker Controversy Gets Wrong

This one-off story has the Joker breaking out of a pre-Arkham Asylum mental hospital, hunting down the five ex-henchmen who might have betrayed him to put him away. Only one of them did, but he’s covering his bases, and the issue ends with a wheelchair-bound ex-aide precariously balanced over a tank with an angry shark in it. Batman gets dropped in and has to beat the shark and then save the henchman. It’s one of the best Batman sequences of all time, and the issue captures so much about the Joker that makes him great: his meticulous planning and forethought and his absurd, violent sense of humor. This one is collected in The Joker: The Greatest Stories Ever Told and will likely be wrapped up in a Neal Adams omnibus sooner rather than later.

Buy The Joker’s Five-Way Revenge on Amazon

The Laughing Fish

Detective Comics #475-476 is another quick story that was incredibly influential on how both Batman and the Joker were portrayed moving forward. That importance stems from two things: the ridiculous, malicious joy of the Joker’s plot, and Marshall Rogers’ art.

The plot was turned into the episode of the same name for Batman: The Animated Series. A fish wholesaler has made fish that look like the Joker for branding purposes, and the Joker, mad he can’t monetize his own visage the same way, goes on a killing spree to get his rights back. This is darkly hilarious, especially the deeper you dive into the metaphor - the mid ‘70s was a big time for comic creator rights, and Rogers was a big part of that. This comic is basically an effigy for comic creators rights.