#Logerquist Hotel

[jokerownsmysoul]

We don't celebrate Thanksgiving in my country so I've to admit that I've never thought much about Arthur and Sarah celebrating Thanksgiving. To me it's more of an holiday that I associate to TV shows with the most iconic Thanksgiving-related episodes, or to Christmas movies 😂 but after reading this, I realized that having them celebrate Thanksgiving is what I didn't know I needed so bad 😭💙 so thank you for digging up something so lovely 🥹 I loved everything about this piece so much 🥹💙 I can't explain the feeling of coziness and calmness it gave me, even though there are paragraphs very sad to read that talk about past wounds 💙 but I guess that's the reason why I loved it so much. To know that there are these past wounds, but seeing them so happy and concent and grateful nonetheless. And to top it off there was a dinner shared for the two of them as sweet as it can be and the descriptions of the autumn landscapes that couldn't be more beautiful and straight from a Monet painting. 😭 What I wouldn't give to be in that park right now! 🍂🍁🏵️🍄 So much of this piece reminded me your New year's eve piece, and getting to read about Sarah's childhood is always a sweet treat. 💙 This might be one of my favorite pieces of yours 🥹💙 next time I will draw Sarah and Arthur you bet that I'm gonna pick something from this piece girl. Just wait. 😂 I know already which scene. 💃🏻More below as always🫠

His strokes were slower than usual, the serifs neater, as if writing a sacred declaration instead of paying for flushes. - adorable 🥰

Family had filled her past, get-togethers that'd inspire Norman Rockwell to paint a new Saturday Evening Post. Visits from her grandparents, her mother's older sister and husband, who'd stolen Y/N's nose until she was twelve and always carried a flask. - picturing all these little anecdotes of her childhood was lovely! 💙 An entire multichapter focused on Sarah's life before meeting Arthur I would read it all up 😂👀🥰

She sank into his solid frame, a haven from what she couldn't yet mend. - 💙

Saved his chocolate pudding tin for dinner in case Penny had forgotten groceries again. - writing or reading about Arthur's childhood is always hard like a little torn in your heart. and this paragraph was indeed hard. and then you come up with this line, which was even harder! 😭 Girl!!!!!!!!! Ouch!!!!!!

Dishwashing at the Logerquist Hotel came with the perk of smoking away and swaying to a live jazz band between loads. - I can imagine that so clearly 🥰

To prove she could mend with him, the way so much of himself continued to with her. - this line is beyond beautiful. Nothing else to add. 💙

His glistening gaze and closed mouth grin sent jumbles through her middle. /

He'd said he'd been the man of the house for as long as he could remember. [...] Polished the story of a trapped adolescence into something he could, should be proud of. / But now he was the man of their house. Pearling was no longer needed, polishing no longer necessary, because a life lived with Y/N was what he'd chosen. - I loved this part so much!! 🫠 I immediately knew where this was headed the second turkey was mentioned in this piece. No wonder that Arthur would be so delighted about this moment, as simple as much as special 💙 somebody please go tell him that even without polishing the story there's a lot he should be proud of, for sticking with all of that and going through so much alone and be so strong 💙

Her cheeks turned to coals, a sudden flush of shame. An unwelcome echo of Halloween. How could she have given this man her whole heart, then shut down his loving inquiry like she was shutting a barricade? As if he was the one who'd erred instead of her? It wasn't as if she didn't get what he was feeling. Only a couple weeks ago, she'd had to stop herself from shuffling through his drawers. - It caught me so off guard this moment which was a delightful surprise, I really loved how natural and realistic this was. 💙 What's even a holiday dinner without some hard discussions in the middle of it after all? 😂 These paragraphs were even more tender and nostalgic to read after reading Way Back home. 🥹

"She made cornbread dressing - stuffing - with buttermilk, eggs, celery... Everybody loved it. She made enough batches to send home with everyone. Even the years Jeff and I were with his family, she'd come over the next day with a big pot." - sicilian grandmas would love her 😂

Alone but with his mother. Alone but with her father. Two by two they'd marched through their days to make their way to each other. To sit at this table. To be brave enough to share themselves. - this is beautiful beautiful beautiful beautiful!!!! 💙💙💙 I can't get enough of these moments of prose where you focus yet again on how similar they are, and how the pieces of oke helped the other to heal 💙

When it came to matters of the heart, Arthur's courage was far greater than hers. Of that there was no doubt. Perhaps one day she'd crack open the barricade enough to match it. - you will Sarah. you will 💙

A rustic arch bridge spanned the narrowest part of the reservoir, an antique made of stones dredged during the body of water's construction in 1893. As they reached its crest, he nodded towards pine oaks reaching across the water, akin to lovers stretching to meet. Pointed at crimson sugar maples contrasting against clear, blue sky. Admired clusters of eastern white pines, nature's answer to skyscrapers. - I loved this so much girl 😭 again, what i wouldn't give to be there right now. It feels (and looks) like a dream 🥹

"That'll certainly be easy now that you're here." He studied the gold wedding band he'd paid off last week. Twisted it around his finger. "I'm thankful I can wear this. That it's real." - This reminded me so much of your new year's piece. I loved the subtle parallel between these two moments 💙 and the answer Sarah gave him is exquisite. Them, with the artsy monet landscape, the leaf in her finger, the lovely atmosphere of it all and how sweet Arthur caresses her, makes it a moment I could read about forever. I really feel like a Thanksgiving piece was exactly what my heart was missing and I didn't even know that, so thank you for unlocking a new beloved image out of you writing 😂

Bountiful

Summary: As autumn leaves fall, Y/N and Arthur reflect on how much they have to be thankful for.

Words: 3,643

Warnings: None

A/N: Though Thanksgiving is alluded to in Backward, Forward - Part 2, this is the first piece I've written featuring the holiday. I hope you all like it! 😃 Lots of love and appreciation for @sweet-nothings04 for beta reading! And a happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate! 🦃

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The door flew open at the exact moment Y/N turned the key.

All teeth and boundless glee, Arthur's handsome grin greeted her. "Hello, Mrs. Fleck." A thorough kiss when he grabbed her hand to pull her inside. "Come here."

Intrigue arching her eyebrow, she followed on eager feet. Toed off her heels at the kitchen partition, dropped her tote bag by the floor lamp, lost her purse somewhere behind the sofa. The sleeve of her speckled wool coat hung at her wrist, a captive of his firm grip.

He took a seat at his desk. Four bills were piled to the left, a torn open cardboard mailer to the right. He gestured towards the mailer. "Look what came today."

She wriggled free and picked it up. Skimmed Gotham Bank's return address and dumped out the contents: a vinyl checkbook and four check booklets. The source of his excitement stood nonchalantly in the upper left corner.

She traced the italicized letters. Arthur & Y/N Fleck. "Our names go well together."

"We go well together." He swept her onto his lap, pecked a line from her lips to her temple. Shifting forward, he snagged the checkbook and a ballpoint pen. "I wanna make out the first one." She studied the subtle movements of his hand as he printed "City of Gotham - Sewer" on the payee line. His strokes were slower than usual, the serifs neater, as if writing a sacred declaration instead of paying for flushes.

Delight flitted through her, light as a feather.

He'd been buzzing since their trip to Niagara, and she'd found herself buzzing right along with him. At the office, she'd blurred between drafting motions, reading complaints, and offering sanitized answers to suggestive questions about their romantic weekend. He'd pinned two postcards featuring the falls to the room divider at his desk, stuck their corny Honeymooning portrait on his vanity. The props from Houdini Magic Shop went straight into his plaid bag.

In bed last night, he'd squeezed her hand and said he wanted the honeymoon to last forever. That with her, he was sure it would.

She'd swallowed the thickness in her throat and squeezed back.

The telephone rang the second he finished the k on the signature line. When she moved to stand, he picked her up and plopped her on the chair. Pecked her forehead and took off for the kitchen.

Once he'd rounded the corner, she turned back to his desk with a smile. She ran her palms along the worn maple, feeling like the recipient of an exclusive invitation. Nosey fingers itched to open the drawers, her thumb dangling dangerously close a pull handle. Knowing all there was to know about Arthur, learning his innermost thoughts by heart was an ever-present longing. What would be the harm in seeing if the drawers were locked?

Get a grip, Y/N. He's your husband, not a case.

Rolling her eyes, she tore the check from the booklet and stuffed it in its envelope.

His dusty baritone caught her ear. "No, it's okay. I just got back from my honeymoon." An extra emphasis on the last syllable to make it stick. "Thanksgiving? Well, maybe that Wednesday. Let me check my calen..."

Words went to fuzz as the whole of her attention turned inward.

The last three weeks had been wonderous, if overflowing. With the burst of getting hitched; Halloween with its pleasures and poignancy; the mayoral election and Thomas Wayne's dastardly win; Niagara Falls; and Arthur's upcoming birthday (for which she'd pull in a favor from Patricia), Thanksgiving hadn't been on the furthest recesses of her mind.

Family had filled her past, get-togethers that'd inspire Norman Rockwell to paint a new Saturday Evening Post. Visits from her grandparents, her mother's older sister and husband, who'd stolen Y/N's nose until she was twelve and always carried a flask. A televised parade from some faraway place called Gotham, construction paper headdresses and pilgrim bonnets. Her mother's cornbread dressing and butterscotch pie. Rowdy older cousins spilling gravy and running around the kids' table. And, when it all became a little too much, slipping her hand in Mabel's and slipping onto the porch. Imperfect but wonderful with love at its core.

The click of the receiver cut through the sunny recollection, a rarity she'd uncovered thanks to Arthur. A lightness she feared would shift to shadow, given its Ever After.

"That was the children's clinic," Arthur called as he crossed the living room. "The activity coordinator's out. They want to hire me for Thanksgiving, the Wednesday before."

"That's your third job there, right?" she asked "They're going to have to keep you on retainer."

"She said they had crafts, but- I dunno what a clown's supposed to do." He shrugged, huffed a chuckle through his nose. "Gobble, gobble?"

"They already have a plan. That'll make it easy. Just be yourself. You can't go wrong there. Which reminds me..." Y/N swiveled to fully face him. Away from the There and Then, to the Here and Now. "What do you want to do for Thanksgiving?"

Dimples dappled his cheeks. "It's been a long time since I've done anything." He said it in a manner she took to mean never, and her breastbone became a dull ache. He crouched to retrieve her purse from the floor. "What did you always do? You and your family?" It was one of the handful of occasions he'd asked about them directly. "We can do that."

"No," she said, a bit too fast. His black brow raised a fraction. She knelt next to him and gathered her coat. Smoothed it over her lap. Consciously softened her voice but still pushed back. "We should start something ourselves. Make our own history."

The glow of nostalgia illuminated his green eyes. "Make it about us." He tugged at the lapel of her blazer, drew her in for a kiss. A damp press of his mouth with no teeth or tongue.

She sank into his solid frame, a haven from what she couldn't yet mend. "We'll just have to figure out what to do with the leftovers."

~~~~~

In the sunniest section of the common room, Arthur took a brown crayon from Timothy, a boy with a bandaged head and right arm in a cast, the aftermath of a car failing to yield at a crosswalk. "Here, I can do it," Arthur offered. Timothy splayed his hand on the horseshoe shaped table.

Arthur traced around his palm, each finger, his skinny thumb. "That's good," he said, reaching for a shoebox of felt cutouts. "What color feathers do you think he has?"

Arts and crafts were not a part of Carnival's repertoire. A magic wand and a record player were a more comfortable fit, a twirl and a stomp to top off a silly dance. But he and a couple of candy stripers had spent the afternoon helping patients choose between handprint turkeys and leaf friends, replete with googly eyes. And he found the more he offered assistance, the easier it was to discern when it was appropriate. To make their Thanksgiving better than his own.

In the Before Y/N period, a holiday to celebrate plenty had been as inaccessible as full cupboards and a full heart. How could there be freedom from want, when he'd wanted his entire life?

School had been a morose monotony, but the week of Thanksgiving break had meant missed meals. The roar of his stomach and embarrassed, stifling laughter had annoyed enough to earn a free lunch tray whenever there were leftovers. Two or three times a week. Far from prying eyes and piercing words, he'd sat in an empty classroom and munched on dry chicken and bouillon flavored rice. Saved his chocolate pudding tin for dinner in case Penny had forgotten groceries again.

After dropping out of high school to work, holiday shifts had been his bread and butter. People lost a bit of their edge, he got time-and-a-half, and it was less painful to be around those who didn't know him than the mother who never would. Dishwashing at the Logerquist Hotel came with the perk of smoking away and swaying to a live jazz band between loads.

Then there was the Thanksgiving he'd spent in Arkham.

A four-year-old's disappointment from the right. "I dropped it."

Red and blue rubber shoes slid along polka-dotted vinyl. Arthur made a show of retrieving the paste stick from under the table. Presented it to April with the IV with a bow. Without bills to pay, her giggle and body scrunching with glee would be the only hourly he'd need.

"Excuse me, Mr. Fleck?"

He straightened and turned towards the nursing station in the back corner. A crucifix hung on the wall next to the L-shaped counter, and beside it an icon of the clinic's namesake Saint Philomena, arrows and anchor firmly in her grasp. An unfamiliar face stepped out from behind the station, a woman with a shock of brunette corkscrew curls.

She stuck out her hand. "I'm Concetta, the woman who called. I'm lucky I found your card on Holly's desk. Thank you for squeezing us in on such short notice. I was wondering if you might have a slot open for Christmas."

It hadn't been short notice, and he hadn't booked anything for Christmas, but he didn't have to tell her that. He attempted a confident handshake - and succeeded. "Um, yeah. I should have one. Did you want to put me on retainer?"

She was kind enough ignore the left-footed use of the term. "Let's start with Christmas, first. Holly'll be back by then. It'll be a nice surprise for the children and their parents. Let me give you my card and we can iron out the details." She plucked it from her pocket without pause. "I'm out tomorrow but feel free to leave me a message once you've checked your schedule."

He gripped the card between thumb and forefinger, but it took three seconds for him to take it. Assurance swirled and spiraled upwards into an appreciative nod. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome. Congratulations on getting married, by the way. Do you and your wife have big plans tomorrow?"

Entire face creasing into a smile, he answered, "Well, her family's in Missouri, so just dinner at our place. I'm- I'm really looking forward to it."

And, if luck continued to shine on him, Part Two of the conversation started on Halloween night. A chance to follow all the breadcrumbs she'd strewn about her earlier years - before she could sweep them away and erase the trail. To prove she could mend with him, the way so much of himself continued to with her.

~~~~~

By the time Y/N turned on the TV, the Killinger's Thanksgiving Day Parade was getting underway. Special Presentation on NCB, led by Gotham City's Police Department's Highway Patrol, hosted by Murray Franklin and sidekick Barry O'Donnell.

Pursing her lips, she debating changing the channel. Having this on in the background was a rare childhood tradition Arthur and she shared. She wasn't going to let Franklin's smarmy smirk and O'Donnell's desperate laugh-alongs sully that.

She twisted the volume dial. The cries of bugles hushed to whimpers and the roars of hosts became murmurs.

When she padded into the kitchen for another cup of coffee, Arthur was leaning on the counter with both hands, a book open on the Formica, concentration deepening his crowsfeet. Freed from its netting, the Lil' Butterball lounged in an aluminum roasting pan in the sink. She'd suggested chicken, but he'd insisted on turkey, and with this being his first real Thanksgiving, she hadn't argued.

His lips moved as he read, pointer finger tracking each word. She filled her mug, glanced at the cookbook, the yellowed photograph of a roasted turkey surrounded by pale parsley and wrinkly tomatoes. A nervous palm rubbed the nape of his neck.

She wrapped an arm about his middle, planted a kiss between his shoulder blades. Disheveled curls caressed her cheek. She rubbed a soothing circle on his taut stomach, through his thermal shirt. "Did you find a recipe you like better?" she asked.

Adopting an uneven slouch, he brought her to his side. "This says to put oil on the skin, but this-" he pointed to another paragraph "-says to use shortening. I don't know what that is. I bought this the other day." He reached for a nondescript plastic baggy that smelled of rosemary, oregano and sage. "But there are no directions. Do we put it in the turkey or what?"

Fingers fidgeting in a way they never did when they held a cigarette, he pushed out a breath. "I haven't cooked one before."

"Neither have I," she said. "My mother did all the cooking. And Jeff and I alternated between his parents and mine. The most I did was bring a pumpkin pie."

"You made pie?"

"'Made' is too much credit. I used store bought crust and canned filling." She nudged him in the ribs and offered her coffee, which his fidgety fingers gladly accepted. He added two more sugars as she continued. "If we try to make this perfect, we're going to drive ourselves crazy."

She skimmed the recipe, reviewed the roasting table, and set the oven to 325 degrees. "Rub the seasoning under the skin, and I'll brush the margarine on."

Four hours later, she could barely see the table for all the food.

Roasted turkey, golden with a buttery crisp. Green bean casserole in eight-by-eight Corningware. Arthur was skeptical of the sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows, but she was certain it was a combination his sweet tooth would cheer. Confusion narrowed his eyes whenever she referred to StoveTop as dressing. Laughing at herself, she shook her head. ("You call it stuffing up here.") Brown 'n serve rolls baked in the oven for twelve minutes. A tube of jellied cranberry sauce slid out of the can with a satisfying plop.

Offering a Hamilton Beach electric knife (a steal at Donahue's for $21.99), she asked him to carve the turkey. His glistening gaze and closed mouth grin sent jumbles through her middle.

He'd said he'd been the man of the house for as long as he could remember. Pearled the grit of taking care of Penny into gems. Polished the story of a trapped adolescence into something he could, should be proud of.

But now he was the man of their house. Pearling was no longer needed, polishing no longer necessary, because a life lived with Y/N was what he'd chosen. What they'd chosen A certain kind of light that shined on them both,

Arthur rubbed the tops of his thighs. "There's so much. I'm not sure where to start." After a moment, he scooped a spoonful of the potato casserole. Tested the mash of marshmallow and sugary starch with a cautious nibble. A hum of pleasure behind smacking lips. "This is good."

"Let me see." She stole a forkful from his plate. The cozy warmth of cinnamon and nutmeg melted on her taste buds. Her sigh was equal parts satisfaction and relief. "It's always hit or miss when I try my mother's recipes."

"Well, this one's a hit." He paused. "What else did your mom make?"

"Just the usual," she said with a dismissive wave. She snagged a roll and ripped it in two. Steam rose from the dough in hot waves.

A knife clinked against ceramic, jarred gravy cascaded over turkey. He sampled the green bean casserole and said nothing. Dug into the StoveTop and said nothing. Sipped coffee and said nothing.

Her cheeks turned to coals, a sudden flush of shame. An unwelcome echo of Halloween. How could she have given this man her whole heart, then shut down his loving inquiry like she was shutting a barricade? As if he was the one who'd erred instead of her? It wasn't as if she didn't get what he was feeling. Only a couple weeks ago, she'd had to stop herself from shuffling through his drawers.

Contrition rose in her throat. She cleared it, offered a small smile of apology, and started over again.

"She made cornbread dressing - stuffing - with buttermilk, eggs, celery... Everybody loved it. She made enough batches to send home with everyone. Even the years Jeff and I were with his family, she'd come over the next day with a big pot."

She smeared margarine on her roll. "My sister has that recipe."

"Maybe she'd send us a copy?" Arthur said.

"I'll ask when I call tonight."

"It's nice to hear you talk about your family."

Her shoulders drew together. "I know."

Two more chews and he sliced into the cranberry sauce with the side of his fork. "I was in the hospital one year. For Thanksgiving. There were visitors from a local church or parish or whatever. They served turkey dinners and ate with us, like we were normal people." He took the jiggly jelly off the tines with his teeth. "There were Looney Tunes on the TV - Arkham plays cartoons all the time. We didn't talk a lot, but I liked it. It was nice not to have to cook for my mother and be alone."

Alone but with his mother. Alone but with her father. Two by two they'd marched through their days to make their way to each other. To sit at this table. To be brave enough to share themselves.

When it came to matters of the heart, Arthur's courage was far greater than hers. Of that there was no doubt. Perhaps one day she'd crack open the barricade enough to match it.

Reaching out to clutch his hand, she promised herself she'd try.

The start of a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. He clutched back.

~~~~~

A little girl's excited squeal resounded through Gotham Park, riding the breeze through winding trees. The afternoon sunset cast long shadows across meadows and rippled along Crown Reservoir. Couples strolled curved walkways, impromptu snack stands lined parkways, selling cocoa and pretzels and crepes. An elderly man, toothless and in a fraying baseball cap, sat on an iron bench, laughing as he fed the ducks at his feet.

Gait easy, casual, utterly natural, Arthur put his arm around Y/N's shoulders. When he'd worked the seasonal carnivals, fall foliage's showy scarlets and honied ambers had been a seldom source of beauty. A background to his daydreams while he'd eaten fried dough on his break. He'd wanted to show it to her for awhile, make those dreams come true.

Most leaves littered the ground now, releasing a musky sweetness as they crunched under their feet. But a few still clung to the uppermost branches, huddled together as if trying to keep warm.

A rustic arch bridge spanned the narrowest part of the reservoir, an antique made of stones dredged during the body of water's construction in 1893. As they reached its crest, he nodded towards pine oaks reaching across the water, akin to lovers stretching to meet. Pointed at crimson sugar maples contrasting against clear, blue sky. Admired clusters of eastern white pines, nature's answer to skyscrapers.

"The fall in Boonville is prettiest in November," Y/N said. "Everything peaks about a month later than here. The honey locusts - those don't grow this far north - turn as yellow as the sun."

"Oh." He shoved his hand in his pocket. He'd assumed autumn's prism made his home special.

She stepped out of his embrace. Crossed her arms on the stone parapet. "But there's a catch. They have thorns - longer than my hand. If you're not careful, they'll tear your dress."

That struck him as too specific to be offhand. Going to her side, he jumped at the chance to follow that breadcrumb. "Did that happen to you?"

"Mabel and I were playing hide and seek. I ruined my skirt, and she got nineteen stitches. We tried to avoid them after that. But they kept spreading and spreading and after a few years thorns were everywhere." A hitch brittled the last word.

She plucked a fiery oak leaf from the parapet, mottled with brown flecks. "My father used to go around the table and ask us to name one thing we were thankful for. It had to be different every year."

"That'll certainly be easy now that you're here." He studied the gold wedding band he'd paid off last week. Twisted it around his finger. "I'm thankful I can wear this. That it's real."

A giggle left her. "It suits you." She twirled the leaf by the stem, held it to her face. Eyes shimmering in the sunlight, she gazed over it like a hand fan. "I'm thankful for fewer thorns."

Stare locked on hers, he slowly lowered the leaf. Palmed it and tucked it away to press into the pages of his journal. "You know, no matter what happened, I'm here," he said, closing her hand between both of his.

She kissed the back of his fingers. They curled under the tender fullness of her lips. "I know you are, Arthur." Her palm rested on his sternum, directly above his heart. Pulling him to her, not pushing back. "I know you are." Gentle as a breeze, she raised herself to meet his kiss. He cupped the side of her neck, his thumb at the hollow of her throat.

Ding ding!

A tween on a scooter darted by, missed them by barely an inch. His mother chased him in a haggard, hoofing jog. "Christopher Daniel, you stop this very instant!"

Y/N's laughter rippled against Arthur's fingertips, her chuckles honey on his lips. Elation swept through him, a wave so powerful his knees quaked.

"Come on," she said, lacing her arm through his, and led him down the other side of the bridge. "I think there's a hot chocolate with our names on it."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​ @rommies​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1​​​​​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​ @fleckficgirl @chaimshelii

[inappropriatefangirlneeds]

“Not everyone wants your help“

Jim Gordon, Orphan & Mother  VS. Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle & Ivy Pepper  This started meant to be a “touching the icky stuff in 5x02” collage but it got me thinking about the two cases. There is more in it than a “Put that down, that´s disgusting.”  Help wanted?  Jim Gordon gets to save two children but has to leave one behind in the custody of a murderer. When Harvey Bullock stated that not everyone wants his help to motivate Jim to leave the Logerquist Hotel he is talking about wanting help. However the helpful person that I want to focus on here is Mother. She states that she´s the only help the ORPHAN boy can get.: “I'm the only mother that boy knows.” “I'm protecting him. When I found him, he was barely alive. Those animals out there, they would have killed him or worse. I taught him how to survive.” She certainly did not ask the boy if he wanted her help and with the statement of “She was kind at first. But she can be very cruel.”  It can be assumed that the boy wants Jim Gordon´s help but Harvey didn´t hear him say this. Harvey only witnessed a boy luring them in a trap and closing it. Jim certainly sees a victim here but Harvey doesn´t he talks about “them” as in all of them being guilty: “They're like rats in the walls. This whole place is their spiderweb.”   While the Orphan boy doesn´t want the help of mother, despite what Harvey thinks and likely would prefer Jim´s. SELINA KYLE seems to be ready to accept any kind of help or damage from Ivy Pepper. She states that if Ivy wants her dead, so be it. Granted Bruce Wayne failed to inform her about all consequences, (Knowing that you have to choose between being you but immobile or being able to move but probably not being you is quite significant.) but it probably would not have had any influence on her decision. 

Help as double edge sword: The potential unwanted consequences of Ivy Pepper´s help are directly discussed:  “It'll cure her?” “Maybe.” “Just maybe?” “Everyone's different. Depends on how strong she is. One thing is for sure though the seed will alter her forever.”  “How?” “Some say the darker angels of our nature are unlocked and set free.” With the Orphan boy they are only shown. He obviously was well trained in entrapping other people it is likely that he has assisted in the murder of plenty. The way he leans against the door and describes what will happen to Jim and Harvey not only shows him being very familiar with the process he also seems distressed by it. It is unlikely that murder is in the boys nature and gets unlocked and freed her but this will affect him. Help for both comes with a cost. 

Murderous: Both Mother and Ivy Pepper are described in a rather similar manner: “Ivy is a maniacal, cold-blooded killer”. and   “You're a crazy bitch who kills people, takes their stuff and burns their bodies.”

Motherhood: With Mother this is evident but even with Ivy & Selina there also is an element of Motherhood and paternal care when Selina recalls their earlier days: “I know Ivy's lost her mind. But after her mom and dad died, she was just sleeping on the streets. And it was a cold winter, and she started to get really sick. So I took her under my wing, I guess, and showed her where to get food, where to get a roof over her head. And after some time, she started to get color in her face. And I just kept checking in on her. Almost every day. She may look old now, but she'll always be that little girl to me.”  This is the kind of care that parents should show: Unconditional, constant and whatever the child decides for their later path in life the love still stays. I doubt that Mother would say the same about the Orphan if he tried to leave. 

(A Witch's) Strengths and Teachings: With both Mother and Ivy there is an element of “strength” present. Mother talks about the boy being weak, barely alive, she claims she taught him how to survive. Instead she just taught him how to be a victim of someone else. With Ivy and Selina we have the teaching when Selina assumed the motherly role: She guides Ivy how to survive in the streets. She doesn´t provide a tight knit, maze that she can´t leave like the hotel. Selina literately helps Ivy not only to gain but also to regain strength when she helps curing her sickness. When the roles are reversed and it´s about Ivy helping Selina (in this case not like that other one in the hospital before ...) it´s not about Ivy giving Selina strength, Selina has to already have that strength for the seed to work. This is not a mother taking care of a child it´s a witch sharing her power. 

The Enabler: Jim Gordon indirectly enables the “help” from Mother with leaving the boy behind, his hesitation to leave hints the question of responsibility. Bruce Wayne seeks Ivy´s help and hands it over to Selina. In this case the question of involvement and responsibility is directly addressed:  “Can she live with that?” “Can you?” 

[If anyone wants a gifpost of this without wall of text just tell me] 

[inappropriatefangirlneeds]

Gotham s5ep2 “Trespassers” Personal Review

“Maybe there's still good people left in Gotham.”   “Some say the darker angels of our nature are unlocked and set free.”  Warning spoilers below   

JIM GORDON  Mainland wants the GCPD to do nothing in the case of the children. “Your dedication to your job is admirable, Captain, but you lack perspective.” Jim Gordon says he needs supplies not opinions but Mainland says, nope. They won´t risk pilots (theirs or Wayne Enterprise´s). “So you can save a few lives for thousands, but I can't?”  Touché. Jim got a point there.  HARVEY BULLOCK * Shows some (un)healthy pessimism.  “IF we get back.” / “Check out the basement in a creepy hotel by myself? Sure. What could go wrong, right?” * Still has the best lines: “Why would anyone be a cop in a world like this?” “Well, the Halloween shop was all out of gas masks, so it was either this or sexy nurse.”  * “Oh, my God. Oh. Not good. Oh, God. This This is not good.” And after having swiped through the teeth he still picks up the severed finger that is obviously a severed finger. Honey, what are you doing? The LOGERQUIST HOTEL Scene was awesome. Some reminiscence to earlier season, a side quest that gives you break from the greater mess. More please. > It´s just awesome that they just pulled the leaver and let them slide into a campy/classy horror. You just have to scream at the screen. Don´t leave the kids alone! Don´t split up! Don´t trust the other kid! How about you go for the lamps and try to destroy them instead of banging the door! (Harvey Bullock smashing the windows was a clever moment though, gotta give him that)  Just the whole atmosphere of that set alone. Love!  > This showed actual detective work and brought the plot and chara points of the macrocosm into  this microcosm  !!!!!!! It´s not only Harvey Bullock being weary of being sent into the basement (what could go wrong) that ties back to him not being keen to be shot standing next to Jim because Jim got the bounty on his head. It´s going right for the lingering pessimism that Harvey has been expressing (If we get back..) and him lecturing Jim that Jim´s methods (not killing Penguin) aren´t the right way for the mess they are in.  They have Harvey Bullock being so perceptive to point out the lit candle right away. “Jim, we're not alone. Someone lit that candle. “ To which JIM GORDON reacts with HOPE!    “In the old west, settlers used to leave a candle burning to lead others to safety. Maybe there's still good people left in Gotham.”  He´s not only playing the same record that he played the whole last episode (and I´m not shading him there, his attitude is great in that situation, otherwise what would there be left but despair for him and everyone else) but he´s also referencing HISTORY .. and I vaguely remember that this is not the first time he did that [[DOES AYONE have a better memory than I do? PLS tell me]] which brings back memories of early Jim Gordon that solves cases and Ed´s riddles. They at the same time concede hope a victory, they get to save the two kids and Gabriel but Jim Gordon has to leave the other boy behind: “Not everyone wants your help, Jim Gordon.”  IVY PEPPER   “The plants came to my protection. “ Ivy, how about you asked them to stop. “But this park ever since we were cut off from the rest of the world, it's been behaving differently. There are things growing here I have never seen before.” Okay fucks sake, I so hope that this is not true. First we get Ivy magically aged then we get Ivy stealing some potion aka none of her love for plants and research and experiments that I wanted to see and now she should be afraid of them even? How about no?! Okay, I´m glad they didn´t go there. “You know, I wasn't lying when I said this park is changing.I'm feeding the earth with these wretched creatures. It consumes them, and then it flourishes.”  >> Okay I can´t say that I like the “Ivy is a maniacal, cold-blooded killer.” but the mere suggestion of Ivy being intimidated and patronized by her plants scared me enough to be happyish about it. I´d still like to see her be just with her plants. Bring back her mushroom farm! Scratch all that murder business she had going on with Gotham and its people. Give her some space and place to care about her plants and learn more about them and okay if someone disturbs them or tries to harm them, and then bring out the murder. Maybe it might go into a direction like that now..... ?  Ivy more and more retreating into the branches of that tree, while talking to Bruce got me intrigued. “Where I'm going is none of your business. Best hurry. That root will die if left out in the open for too long.” Her being so mysterious, and ambiguous about if she can be trusted suits her. Much, much more than a snarly direct threat of murder.  She is her own entity, that does as she pleases and everything else if left to wonder what that might be! That would be a good attitude. QUESTION:  “One thing is for sure though the seed will alter her forever.” “How?” “Some say the darker angels of our nature are unlocked and set free.” So this “some say” does not sound like a general statement about the nature of humanity it does sound like some people talk about the effects of this particular plant on humans. Which begs the question: Who says this? The plants? Do they whisper to her? Is it meant indirectly as in the research she did told her that? Or are there actually other people with knowledge over matters like this? Are there records, writings, research with footnotes? Did Ivy read them? Did she do her own experiments. Who or what is this referring to. I need answers!! 

Also: Ivy is so ridiculously overpowered in this show, how the hell did those guys manage to lock her up? Also2: Is the guys story about them coming for their magic and getting killed true? Ivy at first  helping people? After all the nurse knew about her and thought she would help? Was she kind and people got greedy, demanded too much, wanted to take advantage of her? Then again she was not known as the helpful fairy but as witch, so there might have been something that got her that reputation .. but there also had to be something that got her a reputation as healer instead of solely being a murderous killer witch?  EDWARD NYGMA * How could he believe locking himself up would work if he just had the key in his pocket? This should have been some timed release system that didn´t give him access to the key until after a couple of hours. * Uhm, can TANK from the Street Demonz gang please stick around. I like him. I like those two together. That´s fun. “Did I, uh hit you, et cetera? Any idea why?” * Okay so sleepwalking or for him rather wakewalking Ed has orchestrated the demise of the Street Demonz in order to get some more chaos and war and likely Oswald´s head? Great. * “How did I seem? Was I confident, flamboyant, charisma for days? Or a little more conservative, kind of repressed, a little nerdy?” “You seemed stiff, man of few words. In a daze, actually.” “Interesting.” * “Well, whoever did just started one hell of a war.” Tank can you please stick around, I need a rough biker that gets to the heart of things like that on Eds side.   PREDICTION? Oswald put a bounty on Jim Gordan´s head. The criminals want to kill him. “Edward” likely put an indirect bounty on Oswald Cobblepot´s head, ciminals will want to kill them. However it seems Barbara Kean makes this situation less equal with protecting Jim Gordon from criminals and tightening the thumb screws on him in order to get Jim to kill Oswald. It just seems everyone´s best bet is to go get rid of Oswald right now. And I´m gonna be disappointed if Oswald doesn´t change back to his clever self and manipulate the situation in a way that ties his and Jim´s life back together  … SET DESIGN Yes this is a character on its own and it´s marvelous. * The Wallpaper in Edward Nygma´s bathroom is pretty. * Is that a can of beer on the window still next to Tank in the bathtub?? * Damn every place Ivy stays at is just eerie, beautiful and just stunning. * The halls of Logerquist Hotel are awesome and the perfect atmosphere. FunFact: John Logerquist founded Gotham in 1635 

* Someone had a field trip with the LIGHTNING [Edit: Link]  in this. First the bright lights in the conversation with Barbara Kean and Jim Gordon in the Sirens club, then the Lightning used as weapon  at the hotel. This all should be super obnoxious, like glaring out a charas whole face during a dialogue .. what .. but it all just works, and works really well. Damn.  Honorary mention: The light bulb and welding sparks 11:40 * Those safe houses that Lucius Fox set up looked like a dream again. Just like Lee with that train, or Jim visiting the retired Carmine. I just wait for someone to wake up, shatter the bubble, destroy the niceness. It slightly creeps me out every time they do that.   * “What do I do, just swallow it?” Okay Bruce Wayne should have told SELINA KYLE everything that Ivy said about that thing. This is not an informed medical decision: Me not moving vs. probably not me but moving is a relevant thing to know. Not that I think it would change anything for Selina, but they should have laid open all the information and it bugs me. It might kill you is just half of the story. It might change who you are even if it works is a significant thing to know about. * GABRIEL I literarily can´t believe he is still alive. That´s the kind of character that usually has the shortest shelf life. * Also how beautifully phrased was Bruce Wayne´s initial distrust towards Ivy is. “You'll forgive me if I find it hard to do so.” * “God, what have I done” Acting on point, acting over all point, acting is said point .. * “I'll tell you what! I'll take his head, and you can have the rest of him!” I giggled. (Context: He doesn´t need more than Jim´s head to collect the bounty from Penguin)

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I still can´t let go the The LOGERQUIST HOTEL SCENE in 5x2 I know this episode wasn´t especially liked by many and considered a filler but I really enjoyed it. Especially that part.  The building that Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock enter in order to seek saftey for them and the children has had a stunning atmosphere and the set design put a little detail on the wall: The name of the Hotel. And it´s not just any name, it´s world building done really well.  ~~~~~ Fun Fact: John Logerquist founded Gotham in 1635. ~~~~~ The inconsistency in tone is another thing that´s not always liked about the show but I keep really enjoying that. Especially in this case they just pulled a leaver and threw their characters in a campy/classic horror scenario. Just like that. And suddenly you go from MadMaxish Rescue Mission to the all familiar urge to scream “Don´t split up you idiots” in mere seconds. That doesn´t just happen you really have to craft a switch like that well.  Plotwise they also put a lot of things that were going on in the grand scheme of things into the little intermezzo that played out in the halls of that hotel: At the beginning of the episode Harvey Bullock voices his concern about the bounty on Jim´s head. He doesn´t want to be shot because he´s standing next to Jim. This sentiment is continued when Harvey Bullock expresses his dislike for going into the basement, as Jim tells him  (Creepy Basement, what could possibly go wrong.) He doesn´t want to be a horror movie victim because of Jim´s decision.  There´s two cases where Jim leads, calls the shots and Harvey is endangered by it. They have built him up as being the questioning one, where Lucius Fox follows and understands Harvey voices doubts and issues. In 5x1 they revived the Boyscout and Detective dynamic from Season 1  “Three months ago, I would’ve lost my badge for that.” ..  “You want rules for this game? I’ll tell you. I’ll make it simple, okay? You win or you die. Next time, shoot to kill.” Harvey again says: your methods don´t work here. I doubt it will stop the current HeroJim wave but it´s nice that they sprinkle in Harvey´s voice of lingering pessimism and critique. Even with the consistency to ad it to a scenario like that one in the hotel.  Their contrast is pretty directly voiced when Bullock is so perceptive to notice the lit candle in the hotel. They are not alone, a reason for caution. Jim Gordon however replies with a message of hope.  “In the old west, settlers (*)  used to leave a candle burning to lead others to safety. Maybe there’s still good people left in Gotham.” He just keeps the hope record running.   Even when they leave the Hotel is just quite like their thole situation. Some they can save, some they can´t save: At the same time they concede hope a victory, they get to save the two kids and Gabriel but Jim Gordon has to leave the other boy behind: “Not everyone wants your help, Jim Gordon.” Not everyone wants to be a part of Haven, not everyone manages to be a part of Haven no matter how hard Jim tries to help them reach it. (And despite the phrasing it´s imho referencing the second thing as well, it´s just that Harvey saw less of the boy than Jim and all Harvey saw a child that tried to kill them, so considering that perspective it´s kind of understandable that he´s so “quick” to leave that (not) victim behind and dismiss his wish for being saved.)  Also: Bruce Wayne sits now on Jim Gordon´s side when Jim makes promises to  young boys, Jim officially accepted Bruce´s help. They are now more paralleled than ever before and even the Hotel Scene ties back to this. 

(*) I vaguely remember Jim Gordon talking about history before, but I can´t remember when or what it was about, does anyone have a better memory? 

[inappropriatefangirlneeds]

“GCPD. Come out, now.”  (Jim Gordon in the Logerquist Hotel | Gotham 5x02)