#* in character ┊ jessica whitly.

[fieryncbles]

Like this post if you would like to roleplay/write Prodigal Son character(s) on Tumblr.

Comment what character(s) you would like to write, if you want.

( Even if the thought that the Prodigal Son rpc / fandom is kinda dead and there are no rp partners is stopping you, like this post anyway, if you really would like to write those characters if you had partners )

[ez-with-a-fez]

Literally this show is so perfect I can't. The ONLY thing that would make it better, and I mean the ONLY thing, is more seasons.

literally out of nowhere got the absolute strongest urge to rewatch prodigal son again

[cosmictapestry]

Make a poll of your favourite female characters (no limits—as many or as little as you want) and see which your followers like the most!

i was tagged by @the-everqueen and @lucienne-thee-librarian and i’m not tagging anyone because we have the same damn circle alright we keep going and everyone’s getting tagged five times

[famousmortimer]

My auction for FTH2025 is now live. Pairing your choice of non-GO Sheen x Tennant characters for a good cause. Listed under my Ao3 name Notatracer.

If you're so inclined.

Here are some of my previous fics for your reading pleasure. x

(your choices are NOT limited to these combinations)

Twilight x Fright Night

Black is the Night (E) - Aro Volturi x Peter Vincent 

Violet is the Sky (E) - Aro Volturi x Peter Vincent

Red is the Blood (M) - Aro Volturi x Peter Vincent

The Good Fight x Jessica Jones

Serendipitous (E) - Roland Blum x Kilgrave

Slaughterhouse Rulez x St Trinian’s 2

Reunion (M) - “The Bat” x Piers Pomfrey

Resistance x Spies of Warsaw

Solace (M) - Tommy Atkinson x Jean-François Mercier

Prodigal Son x Unthinkable

Familiar (E) - Martin Whitly x Steven Younger

Passengers

Desire (M) - Arthur x himself

Heartlands

Firelight (T) - Colin Lawes x Sarah/Ian

Good Omens

Ignite (M) - Aziraphale x Crowley

Clandestine (E) - Aziraphale x Crowley

The Serpent’s Kiss (M) - Aziraphale x Crowley

Grateful (T) - Aziraphale x Crowley

[kuri-crocus]

Please spread for a bigger sample size! 😌

Pick a DT boyfriend for a MS character Masterpost

Pick a MS boyfriend for a DT character Masterpost

[incorrectprodigalsonquotes]

Okay, for anyone wondering if they know the Murdoch Mysteries poster I based this one on... yes, Sunshine is Watts. No further questions until it's finished

Okay, my brain wouldn't let me sleep until I did a mock up sketch of a Victorian AU of Prodigal Son lol

Did I use a Murdoch Mysteries poster as a reference of sorts? ...Perhaps but you can't deny it looks cool 😁

Please note that this is a VERY rough sketch so if anyone looks a little off, I am aware 😆

P.S. has anyone else noticed that Malcolm’s eyebrows are thicker at the end instead of thinning out? Just me? Okay 🙃

[ophelia-writes-fics]

please read!!

here are some rules/info for this blog to read before you follow!

firstly, please don't follow/interact if you're under 18! this blog is gonna be mostly smut if i'm being honest, so i'd rather people only follow if they're of age.

second, my requests are open! a quick list of fandoms and characters i write for is below.

the ones in bold are the characters i'll write nsfw content for! all characters are open for either platonic or sfw romantic requests, though.

(if you don't see a fandom or a character and you're curious, send me an ask! I mostly write character x reader, but I do certain ships as well. again, send an ask for specifics!)

bad samaritan (cale erendreich)

broadchurch (alec hardy, ellie miller)

doctor who (all doctors, donna noble, martha jones, rose tyler, amy pond, river song, the master/missy, bill potts)

good omens (aziraphale, crowley, beelzebub, anathema, muriel)

hannibal (hannibal lecter, margot verger)

jessica jones (kilgrave)

prodigal son (martin whitly)

takin’ over the asylum (campbell bain)

third, absolutely no terfs or radfems allowed. this blog is a safe and inclusive space for trans people and people of all genders.

thank you so much for reading, and i hope you enjoy!

[friendlynbhddevil]

Yes!!! Prodigal son was soooo good! Malcolm Bright deserved better. And Ainsley too. The dynamics were so good I’m actually getting irritated again because I had heard the show could have been picked up by Netflix but it never happened😭 so much unresolved plot😭 I’m heartbroken again lol

IT WAS GOING TO BE PICKED UP??? WHAT HAPPENED???😭😭😭

I want my unhinged boi backkk😭

Gil stepping up as a parental figure, like I can't even begin to describe how much I adore found family or in this case the family that chooses you and you love them back. And the dynamic that he shares with his team, especially Edrisa, is very veryyy dear to me like I would fight for them. They are just sooo *incoherent mumbling and crying*

I think this is one of those shows where I genuinely loved the mother, because Jessica Whitly is not a plain character. She has her fears and yet she's just as unhinged if it's about her children or anyone she genuinely cares for. She's sassy too, I love that. I think being sassy and unhinged is a genetic thing in the Whitly family.

As I'm writing about them now, I miss them more. I remember watching it daily when it aired. What made it stand out from most shows, for me, is that it has a protagonist who is utterly haunted but it does not stop him from being absolutely hilarious. In fact, any other show would've made him stoic and something stereotypical. Distanced, so to speak. But everytime he's on screen, it feels like he's alive; we are not mere spectators. We feel his grief, his desperation to be his own person, his love, friendship, everything.

This makes him and every character on this show special.

I'm sooo happy that you decided to talk about this showww😭😭💖💖💖

[brightmalcolm]

So, how’re you doing? Will you ever recover from *checks notes* the Ainsley-centric episode featuring Mr. Boots, multiple Whitly sibling scenes, and Ainsley’s canon middle name?

wait where was ainsley's middle name??? I saw the part where jessica calls her "ainsley milton whitly" but nothing else...but god the mr. boots stuff, idk why they didn't add any mentions in season 2 knowing that the couple that they had to cut did mention him. it would explain ainsley's motivations and character so much more :( I'm just glad we got the script lol...wonder if we could get the other episode...don't wanna look a gift horse in the mouth though!

[thesurgeonisalive]

Prodigal Son Playlists

Here are my Prodigal Son character playlists:

Any Other Character Suggestion? Please comment your character suggestions below!

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

i get along without you some nights

Summary: Spending the holidays without someone you love is a strange, surreal, scary situation. Everyone handles it differently, everyone wonders about a different world, and, eventually, everyone makes it through the holiday. And then the next. And the one after that. And so on and so forth until things get at least a little better.

Six different characters, six different holidays, and six different ways of approaching not having someone they love to celebrate with.

OR: A Secret Santa gift for @y3ll0w-b3ntl3y! I hope this piece brings you some happiness/joy/laughter. You can either use the AO3 link above or read the fic below the read more!

A/N: Hello, my friends! Long time no see! This is a piece for y3ll0w-b3ntl3y as part of the Prodigal Son Secret Santa that whats-a-terrarium organized. Hopefully it’s a good gift! The title is adapted from “Almost (Sweet Music)” by Hozier because I was so desperate for a title that I actually googled “Hozier lyrics loss”. 

This idea has been floating through my head since mid-November and has had a few different iterations. I lost a very, very close family friend this summer and have been thinking a lot about how people get through their first holidays without someone they love and this was born from that. The vignettes are roughly saddest first and they get more hopeful from there. JT’s vignette is just texts, which will hopefully be clear but if not, now you know.

TW: Mostly canon-typical things. Alcoholism, some depression. Jessica’s is the most graphic/intense and can be skipped as needed.

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The Christmas tree was already up when Martin was… (Jessica was still trying to find the polite term for it, trying different ones on) taken away. Normally Jessica insisted on no hints of Christmas in the home until the Thanksgiving dinner had been cleared from the table, but Malcolm had campaigned valiantly to put it up early. As per usual, Ainsley had joined in, asking Jessica to make an exception to her rule and then Martin had given Jessica that look, the one that had been crumbling her resolve since the day they met. 

The tree was decorated as part of Malcolm’s family birthday party. Great aunt Mildred and Birdie and all the other Miltons covered the tree in ornaments from Chanel and Tiffany and made snide comments at the humble Hallmark ornaments Martin produced from his own meager collection. (Jessica had joked to Martin as he held her in his arms that it was not worth it to use an ornament hook to kill her family members. The irony was not lost on Jessica, no matter how much wine she drank.) The final result had been the definition of a Milton Tree. Nothing but matching ornaments, the kids’ handmade ornaments hidden in the back of the tree or so close to the trunk so as to appear invisible. The tree was perfect from the gold star to the Hermes tree skirt.

Jess hated it. 

So she and Martin let the kids stay up well past their bedtime so as to un-decorate and re-decorate the tree, making it their own. Laughter had filled the home as Martin lifted Malcolm to put ornaments at the top of the tree and Ainsley skipped around the room with her fourth (fifth?) cookie, singing “Jingle Bells” at the top of her lungs. Jessica tried to capture the moment, to bottle it so she could reminisce on and sip at it like a fine wine.

Two days later, Jessica Whitly stood next to the tree while officers asked her questions and her husband became a stranger to her and she watched her children’s childhoods begin to melt away and all she could do was say no, I didn’t know anything over and over and over. The whole time the Christmas lights her husband had strung so lovingly around the tree with the precision of a surgeon (and The Surgeon) shone just to the right of her face. 

Two weeks after the arrest and eight days before Christmas, Jessica was drunk because that was all that was left to do. Her kids were broken, her husband was the monster who broke them, she was the useless maiden who watched as it all happened and did nothing, and now she was spending more money on alcohol than anything else. Every happy moment she’d bottled up of her time with Martin and her children was ruined. And standing there, completely unchanged despite Jessica’s life having crumbled to ash, was the Christmas tree. It mocked her. Mocked her desire for a family, a partner, a happy life. It had to go. And her cocktail provided insight into what to do with the stupid tree. 

It was only midmorning when Jessica began her drunken battle against the tree. Ornaments were thrown to the ground and shattered. She rubbed her hands raw trying to get all the pine needles off of the branches. She took a pair of scissors to the tree skirt until there was no hope of ever saving it. Custom ornaments celebrating her engagement, her wedding, Malcolm’s birth, her 5th anniversary, Ainsley’s birth were all crushed under high heels. For the grand finale, she pushed the tree to the ground and poured a generous helping of liquor for herself before dumping the rest on the tree. She had the lighter in her hand when Malcolm’s trembling voice cut through the haze, “Mom, don’t; not in the house.”

Jessica turned to see her children huddled together on the stairs, watching her. Ainsely was mostly hidden behind her brother but both looked at her with expressions she recognized from that horrible night. Expressions that showed surprise to discover that their parents were capable of such violence and destruction. And part of Jessica was broken that they would think that of her and another part was furious because how dare they compare her to the man sitting in a cell with more pending charges than she cared to count. Martin had always been the fun parent, the one who encouraged them to pester Jessica about breaking perfectly good traditions, like waiting to set the tree up until December first, and now, right before Christmas when there was supposed to be joy and peace in the world and her children were supposed to have not a care in the world, he was the lowlife who left Jessica to clean up after him. 

She’d clean up after Martin, make the kids go to school in January, be sure their clothes fit, tell the chef what to make for dinner, go to the charity events so it was clear her family was thriving. She would get along just fine and make sure her children did too. But first, the tree had to go. 

Jessica sent her children to their rooms. Then she set the tree and everything it symbolized ablaze. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dani’s 17th birthday was on the three-month anniversary of her dad’s death. She had just started to get to the point where she could go a day or two without crying and she had finally stopped setting the dinner table for the whole family. She had even remembered to ask for four tickets at the movies instead of five. Her heart was still a gaping wound but it wasn’t as raw. 

Then her birthday rolled around, bringing with it a promise that her father would never be able to keep. 

Her father had been taking her and her sisters on special father-daughter dates for their birthday for as long as she could remember. According to him, gifts were good but experiences were excellent. When she was five, he’d taken Dani to a carnival and let her ride the carousel as many times as she wanted. For her 10th birthday, he took her to get her ears pierced and let her pick out earrings that she knew were above her family’s price range, revealing the extra cash he’d been saving just for that occasion. For her 16th birthday, her last ever one with him, they dressed up in their nicest suit and dress, washed his dingy old car until it shined, and drove to the fanciest place they could find. They hadn’t even ordered appetizers before they decided that no place had a right to charge $100 for a house salad and snuck out to eat at the greasy spoon a couple miles away. Dani had spilled ketchup on her pale purple prom dress and she, her dad, their waitress, and the cook had spent 15 minutes getting it out. It had been perfect, an absolutely fitting end to a tradition Dani looked forward to throughout the whole year. 

This birthday there wouldn’t be a father-daughter outing to the beach like Dani had planned. Instead she sat through a calc test where she knew none of the answers, ate a truly pitiful cafeteria attempt at spaghetti and meatballs, and hid in bathroom stalls to cry. When Dani had been out of her fifth period class for far longer than her bathroom hall pass allowed, the school counselor was dispatched to find her. Dani had never spoken to the counselor before her dad died but at this point they were on a first name basis. (Dani saw it as a good sign when the older woman introduced herself as Elle, short for Danielle. Something about their names fitting together like puzzle pieces made her feel safe.) Dani finished the day in Elle’s office, completing work that could have been written in Greek for all Dani knew. 

Before her dad died, going home after school was usually a relief. Now it felt like walking into his funeral over and over. Her mom had tried her hardest to bring the Powell house back to life, adding colorful art with motivational messages and insisting on opening the windows to let in fresh air, even when it was raining and the humidity made Dani’s hair resemble a lion’s mane. But she had to go home, couldn’t dream of scaring her mom by being late, and at least at home she could sleep until tomorrow rolled around and it wasn’t her birthday anymore. 

Even 10 years after her 17th birthday, Dani won’t be able to remember what happened after school that day. Pictures indicate that she had cupcakes and she had sat through her sisters and mom singing “Happy Birthday”. She doesn’t remember anything else. In fact, the rest of that school year and most of that summer are lost to Dani. Her therapist will say it’s a common way for people to manage grief, that the depression will ease with time, that all of it is completely and utterly normal. Dani figures it was her brain’s way of ignoring that her dad wasn’t there. Dad couldn’t be missing from her memories of her birthday if she had none. 

Every birthday after that one hurts in some way, sometimes for the full 24 hours and other times for only a split second. Her 18th is full of anger at her dad for not being there. Her 21st involves her bawling while drunk in some random bar about how she wishes she could be with her dad, even if it meant not being around anymore. She writes a seven-page letter to her dad on her 27th, updating him on every detail of the last decade as if he were still alive. Her 32nd brings a sense of acceptance, of knowing that as much as she misses him and wishes he could be there as she blows out her birthday candles, she wouldn’t trade the life she has for anything.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edrisa had never spent the Fourth of July in the US until she was 26. Summer was the ideal season for her parents to do research in far off lands, which meant it was the season where Edrisa packed a couple bags and left home to follow them on their travels. But this year she couldn’t make the trip. Or, more accurately, she was purposely not invited on the trip. It wasn’t surprising that she had been excluded, but it still hurt.

She had always been closer to her parents than anyone else in the world. Friends were few and far between and even when she did manage to make one, she never felt as comfortable in her skin with them as she did in a hut in a random country with her parents. (And, yes, maybe she wasn’t giving her friends a chance to get close to her and, yes, maybe she wasn’t trying her hardest to make connections, but still.) The comfort meant she kept going on research trips long after she turned 18, kept running back to the safety of the trio that made up her family. 

But then she told her parents she was hoping to be a medical examiner instead of pursuing internal medicine like she had originally planned. She hadn’t realized how much that original plan meant to her parents but her announcement led to a debate that grew into an argument before becoming a full-blown, knock-down, drag-out fight. That had been over her spring break in April and she and her parents hadn’t spoken since and it was tearing her apart. 

Edrisa prided herself on her resilience though and so she planned to make the most of this first Independence Day in her home country. And if that distracted her from her parents’ radio silence, then that was a nice bonus. Edrisa had accepted every invite she got from various colleagues and coworkers, crammed her schedule full of pancake breakfasts, barbeques, block parties, and firework shows. She saw the same few scenes of Independence Day in four different places. She ate no less than five hot dogs throughout the day. By the end of the day, she had spent a total of 160 minutes watching fireworks. But no amount of hot dogs or fireworks or dramatic speeches could dull the voice in the back of her head that was wondering what her mom and dad were doing.

Had Dad gotten sick from sketchy water yet because he didn’t let it boil long enough? Had Mom found the scarf she wanted to buy to add to her collection? Were they seeing souvenirs and thinking of her? Which coworkers were they with? Darrell? Synthia? Nasir? That guy with the cool tattoo sleeves whose name Edrisa could never remember? Did they remember that it was the Fourth of July?

Edrisa arrived back at her tiny apartment far past her usual bedtime, Edrisa curled up on her couch, skipping between TV channels for something she could fall asleep to. By the time she stumbled on the fifth channel playing Independence Day (always that one speech; surely there was more to this movie than this one speech), she had accepted that the universe had clearly determined her entertainment for the night. 

Edrisa settled in to see how the movie ended as one guy (the President? He was in a suit giving a speech and that seemed like enough of a context clue for Edrisa) delivered his, admittedly very moving, speech. “And should we win the day, the 4th of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when the world declared in one voice, we will not go quietly into the night. We will not vanish without a fight.”

Maybe it was the actor’s delivery or the music or fate, but Edrisa found herself ruminating on the same line over and over: “We will not vanish without a fight.” It seemed absurd to compare her fight with her parents to humanity fighting off aliens, but good advice was good advice. Edrisa didn’t want to give up on her family. If she wanted to patch things up, to help her parents see why she didn’t want to work with living patients, to not have to suffer through another Fourth of July block party where she didn’t know anyone, she was going to have to put up a fight. And so she pulled up her e-mail as Will Smith did heroic things and wrote to her parents. She poured all the feelings she’d felt that day, all the melancholy and anger and grief and longing, into the e-mail, took a deep breath, hit send, and turned off her TV. (Edrisa will be well into her 60s before she actually sees Independence Day all the way through. She did have the President’s speech memorized more than 25 years before that.) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

February 14th, 2010-

Tally: Happy Valentines babe <3 <3

JT: Love you!

Tally: How likely is it that your sergeant is gonna let you off early today?

JT: -1000%

Tally: Did you try the “it’s my first valentines with my wife” angel?

Tally: Angle!

JT: Salazar isn’t going to budge. No seniority, no chance of going home early

Tally: But you’ll try anyway right…? (: 

JT: Only because I love you. If you don’t hear back from me it’s because Salazar has sentenced me to work overtime for the next month.

Tally: Fingers crossed!

Tally: Anything?

Tally: It’s been 10 minutes, are you alive?

Tally: JT ANSWER ME OR I’M POSTING YOUR FULL NAME ON FACEBOOK!!!!!!!!

JT: He laughed me out of the room

JT: And now I’m on parking violation duty for the day

Tally: Sorry babe…

JT: Wish I could be with you ):

Tally: Maybe I could go and violate some parking laws…? What do you say, Officer Tarmel?

JT: This is why I married you

Tally: That and the fact that I’m nice enough to wear those heels you love to go and get a parking ticket

JT: your my dream girl ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanksgiving had always been Jackie’s holiday. Ever since their first Thanksgiving together, Gil and Jackie had agreed she would handle Thanksgiving and he would put together Christmas dinner. Jackie had taken immense joy in her perfect Thanksgiving dinners. As if by magic, she made sure the food was done cooking all at the same time, the turkey was never dry, and she had an apple pie so good she would print the recipe to hand out to guests. 

The last two Thanksgivings before Jackie had passed away had been pale imitations of the ones they used to have. The first one, Gil ate some Chinese food while Jackie curled on the couch and nibbled at saltines because the chemo made her too nauseous for anything else. The second was spent in the hospital, discussing funeral plans because Jackie wanted to make sure Gil knew exactly what she wanted. The first Thanksgiving after Jackie died, Gil offered to work so another officer who had just had a baby could be home for the holiday. Gil worked a 13-hour shift, finding reasons to stick around long after he could have gone home. The second Thanksgiving, he went to DC to see Bright, hoping that being in an unfamiliar city would help stave off the sadness that he would never have a Thanksgiving with Jackie again. Bright had gotten called in for an emergency and Gil had spent the day wandering through the city by himself. 

Gil runs out of ways to avoid Thanksgiving the third year. He has too much overtime so work is a no-go. Bright is back in New York. Gil doesn’t particularly want to travel at Thanksgiving again and definitely not by himself. He considered helping at a shelter but apparently the rest of the city has had the same idea because Gil was informed that no additional volunteers were needed. 

He plans to approach the dreaded Thursday like any other. He’ll make a normal meal. He’ll watch a football game he had missed earlier in the week instead of the Thanksgiving games. He will close his curtains so that if a balloon from the parade somehow magically makes its way to his part of town, he won’t see it. 

Gil’s in the middle of heating up canned tomato soup and making a grilled cheese when there’s a knock at the door. He opens it without looking through the peephole, hoping it’s the turtleneck he ordered to replace one that Bright destroyed earlier in the week. The shipping e-mail had said it should be arriving that day. Instead, he finds JT and Tally with four food containers. “It’s just the sides. We were going to bring some turkey but Tally says it’s inedible so…” JT shrugs as he places the food on the table and explains what is what. There’s creamed corn and mashed potatoes and Gil’s stomach rumbles despite his best efforts. The visit is very brief (Tally’s family is headed to their apartment and they need to clean up before anyone gets there) and the food is wonderful. It’s not Jackie’s, not by a long shot, but it’s different enough that it feels odd to compare them and that’s a blessing. 

Gil has just gotten through half of his mashed potatoes when there’s another knock at the door. Again, he hops up, hoping to find his turtleneck on the other side. Instead, he finds Bright, smiling, with Ainsley and Jessica standing behind him. Gil has experienced a Whitly Thanksgiving once, many years ago. It’s just one step down from a black tie affair and Gil had spent most of the four-hour meal prepping to break up a domestic dispute between the various Milton relatives. It had been one of the most unpleasant holidays he had ever experienced and he had spent dozens of holidays working as a police officer, which always promised at least one tragedy. 

Thrown off by seeing the Whitly crew instead of a FedEx employee, it took Gil a moment to realize that Bright was holding an entire turkey. His confusion must have shown on his face because Bright leaned towards Gil and, in a rather loud stage whisper, said, “I told Mother it made no sense to bring a whole turkey, but you know how she gets when she sets her mind on something.” Ainsley chuckled behind Bright and Jessica looked between both her children with a look of overexaggerated offense. 

Gil’s manners kicked in after a moment. “Do you want to come in? I can’t eat a whole turkey alone,” he gestured with his hand to invite them in, but all three responded by shaking their heads.

“Thank you, Gil, but we can’t impose,” Jessica said in her tone that indicated there was no room for disagreement. “There’s no need to play host on today of all days.” The subtext was clear: I wouldn’t want to have to pretend to be okay on a hard day; I won’t make you. It was a kind thought but as he watched the little family walk back to the car, Ainsley and Bright joking with each other, Gil wasn’t sure if he would rather them stay or leave. 

The turkey was delicious and Gil was nodding off in his favorite chair when the third and final knock of the evening came. Gil got up, again feeling the excitement of getting his new turtleneck because surely that’s the only reason someone would be at his door at 9:00 PM on Thanksgiving. 

“You’re not my turtleneck,” Gil bemoaned as he opened the door to see Dani. 

She scoffed, “Nice to see you too.”

“Sorry, I’ve just been waiting for the turtleneck-”

“You ordered to replace the one that got ruined in that fire Bright set?” Dani raised her eyebrows, proud of finishing his sentence. 

Gil chuckled, “You and I may spend too much time together.” 

Dani made her way into Gil’s living room, comfortable enough to not wait for permission. “I brought you something,” Dani said while extending her hand that held an opaque Tupperware. Her voice was tinged with nervousness; it reminded Gil of a kid handing in a test they thought they might fail. “It’s definitely not perfect and I don’t think I baked it long enough but hopefully it’s okay.”

As Dani spoke, Gil opened the container and was met by a smell so familiar and beloved that it brought a tear to his eyes. The smell was the perfect mix of apple, cinnamon, and nutmeg; a smell so connected to Jackie that Gil could have sworn she was in the room. He couldn’t resist tasting it, even though he suspected that Dani might still be talking, unaware that he had been transported to happier years. She was right, the pie could have done with another minute or two but besides that it was perfect. No one else had ever gotten it this perfect. He couldn’t even get it this perfect and he helped Jackie make her pie at least a dozen times. 

“Dani,” Gil was fighting back the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. “This is just right. How… How did you get it just right?”

Pulling a stained and folded piece of paper from her back pocket, with a look of surprise on her face, Dani responded, “Jackie gave me the recipe that first Thanksgiving, right before she got…” Right before she got sick hung in the air, unsaid. How many times had Gil seen Jackie pass out this recipe? And yet no one had ever made the pie correctly. What made Dani different? He unfolded the recipe like it was a precious artifact. Scrawled in Jackie’s messy handwriting in the corner was a note: Top secret! To make this correctly add apple cider syrup (about ½ cup). Love, Jackie.

Gil didn’t even try to contain his laugh. Of course, Jackie, his Jackie who was so competitive and always up to something mischievous, would never give out her full recipe, not even to him. And of course, Jackie, his Jackie who was endlessly compassionate and always looking out for people, would have the foresight to see that Dani would be the type of person to bring him pie when Jackie was gone. Even now, his wife was amazing him and making sure he had a proper Thanksgiving. 

As Gil fell asleep that night, his phone buzzed. More out of habit than anything, he reached for it and found an e-mail. The subject line? “Men’s gray turtleneck delivery delayed to 1/31”. Gil groaned. Now if only one of his team members would show up with a turtleneck!

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Logically, Bright gets the value of New Year’s. It's a clear chance for a new beginning, a perfect time to reflect on the past, and, of course, an opportunity for one more party before the holiday season ends and everyone returns to their normal lives. It all makes sense in theory. 

Theory isn’t reality and the reality of New Year’s has never met Bright’s expectations. New York on December 31st is always brimming with tourists who want to see the ball drop and make the city claustrophobic. Reflecting on the past year usually includes remembering a laundry list of mistakes and horror. Planning for the new year just results in people expecting something that never comes. And, to be completely honest, he has yet to attend a New Year’s Eve party that he didn’t regret the next morning. Nothing about midnight on January first makes anyone a new person. 

Despite all of that, Bright’s loft was decked out for a New Year’s Eve party thanks to a bet. He had been so confident the janitor had killed their victim and JT had been equally confident Bright was wrong. So the bet was made: if Bright was right JT had to reveal the letter that came after the J in his name; if JT won, Bright had to throw a New Year’s Eve party. It had not been the janitor, but the janitor’s identical twin brother who killed the victim. Despite his best efforts to convince him otherwise, Gil ruled in favor of JT and now Bright had a party to throw.

Mother had, of course, taken matters into her own hands, insisting that there was no way Bright could throw a New Year’s party as well as her event planner could. He had tried to convince her that this would be a small party with just a few people from work and that it truly did not require an event planner who would charge at least $4,000. His efforts were in vain and now he could barely recognize his own home through the catered food, the enormous number of gold and silver decorations, and the pièce de résistance: a disco ball that was far too big for his apartment. 

Perhaps it was fitting that he couldn’t recognize his home under the decorations. Life had become increasingly unrecognizable since that day in Vermont with Martin and the Woodsman. The day his father had tried to kill him and Bright had instead murde– killed his father. (His army of therapists had been working diligently to help Bright change the way he spoke about the event; shifting from Bright murdering Martin to Bright having defended himself. It was a very slow process.) Bright didn’t recognize himself most days and his safe spaces had dwindled rapidly. There was court and mandatory time off and 72-hour holds and so much therapy. There were hard conversations to be had and confessions to be made and apologies to be given by the dozens. Now, still far from okay but no longer on the edge of insanity, Bright was facing a completely foreign idea: a new year without his father. 

Martin Whitly would not see a single second of 2022. 

Malcolm Bright would get to see all of them. 

Malcolm had never had a year without his father. Never had a chance to see what he could be without Martin. Never even considered that one day he wouldn’t feel torn between Claremont and the real world where people were sometimes cruel but mostly kind. Maybe Bright didn’t buy into the idea of New Year’s because he’d still be carrying his trauma and demons and flaws whether it was December 31st, 2021 or January 1st, 2022, but it did seem worth celebrating a year where he would only carry the ghost of his father, instead of the real thing. 

So, despite the party being entirely over-the-top, Bright made the most of it. He laughed with his friends, played party games and lost at all of them in spectacular fashion. He ate some food that wasn’t licorice and Dani literally applauded him for it. He got to hold JT’s baby who smiled at Bright and for a moment he enjoyed being with someone who did not find him strange or odd or shattered through with trauma. Kisses and hugs were shared at midnight and it felt like maybe beautiful things were beginning. 

By the time 2:00 AM rolled around, it was just Bright, sitting on the floor, his back against his front door. The loft was a disaster and Bright was certain it would take years to de-glitter the space. The sirens outside were loud and more frequent than normal and if he squinted, Bright could see snow falling lightly outside. He leaned his head back against the door and released a long breath, thinking about how this year, as ridiculous as it was, felt different, felt lighter. It was enough to make him laugh. The noise bubbled up out of his mouth involuntarily and startled Sunshine awake from her perch just a bit above Bright’s head. She chirped indignantly, as if scolding him for waking her up. It made him laugh even more. He apologized to her and pulled himself up to start heading to bed. 

“Happy new year, Sunshine. I think it’ll be a good one.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: For a person who has only just started using emojis in the year 2023, not using them in Tally and JT’s text was shockingly difficult. I hope you enjoyed seeing me flex my very limited memory of emoticons. Also, I googled secret ingredients for apple pie so if you make one with apple cider syrup and it’s bad, it’s not my fault.

 Also, I’m sorry to all my Ainsley fans; on hour six of writing so she did not get a vignette. (Though there’s totally something to be said for a piece about Ainsley at Halloween.) Sorry that she’s the only main cast member who didn’t get some love. 

Thank you for reading! If you’re someone who is going through holidays without their loved one, I’m sending you hugs, warm blankets, and your favorite beverage. I hope this maybe brought a bit of catharsis or hope. May all of you have a wonderful 2024, full of loved ones, good food, and lots of pleasant surprises. And most importantly, may 2024 bring us the miracle of a season 3!

[wipbigbang]

WIPBB 2023 - Fic & Art Master List (# - L)

Below is the master list of all the bragging rights/posts that were posted to Tumblr and Dreamwidth, organized alphabetically by fandom from numbers to L. Please go show these people some love for all the hard work they did!

9-1-1

Beyond Appearances: Art (Evan Buckley/Sophia Diaz)

When You Say My Name: Fic | Art Post 1 | Art Post 2 (Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz)

A Song Of Ice and Fire/Game Of Thrones

Watch the world burn; i set it all alight for you: Fic/Art (Jon Snow/Daenerys Targarean)

Angel: the Series/Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Deep Dark Sky: Fic (Connor/Dawn Summers)

Bungou Stray Dogs

half-time soulmate, full-time problem (so hold me like a grudge): Fic | Art (Nakahara Chuuya/Dazai Osamu)

Chalion Saga/World of the Five Gods

Penric's Last Ride: Fic | Art (Penric, Desdemona, the Bastard)

Criminal Minds

Half Broke Horses: Fic (Art On AO3) (Alex Blake/Emily Prentiss)

DC Comics

Batman

Fatherhood: Fic | Art (Implied Bruce Wayne/Jim Gordon)

right place, wrong time: Fic | Art (Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne)

Batman/Green Arrow

Grains of the Golden Sand: Fic (Dick Grayson/Roy Harper)

DC Comics (Batman)/Prodigal Son

9 Crimes: Fic | Art (Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo, Jessica Whitly, Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock, Alfred Pennyworth, The Joker, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson)

Dead Poets Society

Spotlight: Fic (Chris Noel/Ginny Danburry)

Disney

Disney's Descendants

And I won’t lie down, roll over, and die: Fic (Gil/Harry Hook/Uma)

Nothing in this world by myself to protect me: Fic (Jay/Carlos De Vil, Evie/Mal, Evie/Jay, Evie/Carlos de Vil, Evie/Jay/Mal/Carlos de Vil, Ben/Mal, Ben/Jay, Jay/Mal, Mal/Carlos de Vil, Ben/Evie)

Disney Fairies

Death at the Hollow: Fic/Art (Fawn/Nyx)

Encanto

A Single Thread of The Tapestry: Fic | Art (Camilo & Mirabel, Camilo & Mirabel & Mariano, Mirabel & Camilo & Madrigal family)

How do you know what your life is worth: Fic | Art (Camilo & Mirabel, Mirabel & Pepa, Isabela & Pepa, Isabela & Luisa, Luisa & Abuela & Bruno, Bruno & Camilo, Félix & Julieta, Agustín & Dolores, Félix/Pepa, Agustín/Julieta)

Doctor Who/The Picture of Dorian Gray/Torchwood

Passing Through: Art (Dorian Gray/Jack Harkness)

Dracula/Jane Eyre/Sherlock Holmes (ACD Canon)

A Field of Thorns: Fic (Sherlock Holmes/Dracula)

Dragon Age II

Kindling: Fic | Art (Fem!Hawke/Fenris)

Set Yourself On Fire: Fic | Art (Marian & Garrett, Marian & Carver, Marian & Varric, Referenced Fenris/F!Hawke and Anders/M!Hawke)

ER (NBC)

Touch and Go: Fic | Art (Abby Lockhart/Kerry Weaver)

Final Fantasy IV/Final Fantasy VI/Final Fantasy IX/Final Fantasy X

Magical Girl Rydia - Summon the Four Warriors of Light!: Fic On Dreamwidth | Fic On Tumblr (Rydia/Yuna)

Generation Kill

Bradley the Damned: Fic/Art (Brad Colbert/Nate Fick, Walt Hasser/Ray Person)

Good Omens (TV)

The Rain We Thought Would Last Forever and Ever (Remix): Fic (Art On AO3) (Aziraphale/Crowley)

Harry Potter

Black House Will Rock: Art (Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Lestrange)

Repertum: Fic/Art (Harry Potter/Severus Snape)

Harry Potter/CSI/Hocus Pocus

And now you're mine: Fic (Harry Potter/Greg Sanders)

Harry Potter/DC Comics (Batman)

Reflection: Fic/Art (Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Rubeus Hagrid, Original Characters)

It (2017/2019)

faraway look: Fic (Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon)

Jak And Daxter

alien lands (overflowing with dust): Fic/Art (Jak/Daxter, Jak/Sig, past Damas/Sig)

The Red Prison: Fic/Art (Errol/Torn, Jak/Ashelin)

Jane Austen/Temeraire (Naomi Novik)

To the Rigor of Service: Fic/Art (Elizabeth Bennet & Charlotte Lucas, pre-Anne Elliot/Frederick Wentworth)

Jujutsu Kaisen

Phantom Origins: Fic | Art (Itadori Yuuji/Yoshino Junpei, Yoshino Junpei & Yoshino Nagi, Fushiguro Megumi & Kugisaki Nobara, Fushiguro Megumi & Kugisaki Nobara & Yoshino Junpei, Iguchi Takeshi & Itadori Yuuji & Sasaki Setsuko)

Knives Out

No Charm Equal: Fic (Benoit Blanc/Marta Cabrera)

Kuroko no Basuke

Three Little Words: Fic (Kasamatsu Yukio/Kise Ryouta)

Last Binding Series (Freya Marske)

The New Blyth Traditions: Fic (Robin Blyth & Maud Blyth, Robin Blyth/Edwin Courcey, Maud Blyth/Violet Debenham)

League of Legends: Arcane

bring me java, bring me joy: Fic | Art (Caitlyn Kiramman/Vi)

Lord of the Rings (Book)

both the sweet and the bitter: Fic On Dreamwidth | Fic On Tumblr (Arwen Undómiel, Elrond Peredhel, Bilbo Baggins, Original Characters)

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Vampire!Peter + Martin Whitly, Who Is The Real Monster, discussion prompted by rewatching Frankenstein because I am thinking many frankenstein thoughts always these days?

Absolutely hilarious that you sent me a prompt involving Frankenstein cause I was gonna rewatch a video tonight discussing the novel/Junji Ito manga version of it cause it's October and that means horror classics.

But I'll watch that later, I've got a one-shot to write.

On with the fic!

--

Peter shifted about on the couch, trying to make himself more comfortable without spilling his drink. Sure, he could put it on the table, but... nah. He just gave up and flopped on Martin's thighs and wiggled a bit.

"Really? All that for you just picking my lap, as usual?" Martin asked, though not sounding all that offended.

"Yep." Peter replied, loudly sipping from the silly straw in his cup. His attention was on the screen, watching as Victor Frankenstein moved about, talking about his creation, which was going to be brought to life shortly. "Hey, Martin, I've got a question."

"I'm sure you do."

"Why do people always call Frankenstein a doctor when the idiot never actually finished school?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like," Peter shifted to make himself more comfortable, "the book has it where he's still in college, basically. And this is a project he's working on in his fuckin' house, that he shares with other people!"

Martin chuckled, carding his fingers through Peter's hair. "Well, many medical professionals have done experiments at home."

"Not recreating a human body!"

"Not that you know of."

Peter turned up at him, giving him a stare. Martin laughed at this. "No, I'm not included. There would have never been a good time to have a reconstructed corpse in my busy home! Jessica would have found out the moment I brought in the first body part!"

"Or Malcolm would have."

This made Martin scoff. "Oh, possibly. I bring one girl home and suddenly I find myself in a cell for twenty years because my son was a little too curious."

Peter rolled his eyes and slurped his bloody mary that contained real blood. "Still though, why do people call him Dr. Frankenstein if he never even earned that title?"

"Well, I assume it's to separate him from Frankenstein the monster."

"I guess, but that's dumb."

"How so?" Martin asked, attention now on Peter rather than the movie where the monster's body is currently being brought to life. Peter had seen this scene enough times to not bother looking at the screen.

"It's... ya know, I mean. The monster is his own person, he's not Frankenstein! He learns to speak and read later in the novel through his communications with a family, before everything goes to shit cause, whoops, he can't have anythin' nice, no thanks to that bitch Victor. He even tells his creator that he is basically his Adam. Probably why people call him that when they talk about these two."

Martin shrugged. "I suppose so, he is a rather smart human-like being, even though the movies tend to not show that."

"Ehhh... I think Van Helsing did? Can't remember, it's been ages since I've sat down and watched that one sober." Peter finished off his drink, setting the cup aside to cross his arms. "But anyway, it's so weird that the movies kinda fuck up his character."

"The monster?"

"Yeah! He's smart, he's caring, but he is also angry, which they get right. I mean, I'd be fuckin' mad at my creator for bringin' me to life and then abandoning me. Oh wait, I have! Fuck my sire! Killed that bitch. Still, like, he's human, in his own right! No need to call him the monster."

"Ah, but does this play into the common question people have about him and his creator? Who is the monster and who is the man?" Martin asked, smiling. "I remember having a discussion about this once with Malcolm, he had been reading the book in school and it had him thinking about me."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "About you?"

"Well, at this point I was in my cell, so he knew that I was the Surgeon. But at the time, Malcolm had explained to me that he saw that how I presented myself to the world and the person hidden from it, the one that was dangerous, were like Frankenstein and the monster."

"Thought you'd be more Jekyll and Hyde."

"I thought so too, but he explained it as... oh..." He tapped his chin. "Ah, yes, he said that I presented myself as this brilliant scientist, who tried to keep up a normal life, and yet I hide from the world a creation made of horrible deeds through the pursuit of knowledge. And, like Victor Frankenstein, to deal with troubling thoughts. This 'creature' I created, the Surgeon, could pretend to be human, but was still a monster, even if he knew the right ways to be human, he just wasn't one due to who he was."

Martin then leaned back, smiling. "I think my boy was overthinking it, believing that I am both the man and the monster, as both of these characters are in their own right. It still sounded Jekyll and Hyde to me, but then again, Malcolm always did find ways to relate me to more conflicting philosophies and thoughts. What a clever boy."

Peter wasn't sure what to say to that, so decided to change the subject. "Did you know only one adaptation of Frankenstein actually brings up that the eight-foot tall man is hung like a fuckin' horse?"

"Only you would go from deep thoughts of humanity to thinking about someone's groin."

"It's Young Frankenstein, in case you're wonderin'." Peter grinned.

--

Personally, I have no idea who is the monster and who is the man, both are so very, very human and I think that's the point.

*jazz hands*

And yes, Peter is correct about that last fact. Also, apparently, the Universal movie is based on a play adaptation that changed so much of the original plot.

Just some fun facts right there.

[missshezz]

9 Crimes (Batman/Prodigal Son Fan Fiction)

Title: 9 Crimes

Fandom: Batman (comics), Batman: Under the Red Hood/Death In A Family, and Prodigal Son (2019 TV)

Characters: Jason Todd | Red Hood/past Robin, Bruce Wayne | Batman, Dick Grayson | Nightwing, Tim Drake | Robin, Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo, Jim Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth, Jessica Whitly, The Joker

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: Major Character Death, Canon typical Violence

Words: 40k (21 Chapters)

Summary: Can Jason Todd set aside his bad blood long enough to bring a killer to justice or will old wounds, and bad memories, prevent him from working with Batman?

This is the first of my two entries in the 2023 Finish Your Shit Big Bang @wipbigbang

Gifs are also done by myself and are part of the art I will be doing for this story

Gotham. 

A hard city.

One only the hardiest of individuals could survive in. 

Even the man who served as the city’s silent guardian had become hardened by it.

Of course, a mercurial clown hellbent on watching the world, and everyone in it, burn helped with that. The laughing man committed atrocity after atrocity for over a decade, none more despicable than beating a sixteen-year-old boy to death in an abandoned warehouse while a bomb counted down to zero.

All so he could add killing Robin to his already long list of greatest hits. 

The Joker spent years stalking Robin. He set a multitude of contemptible traps to capture the Boy Wonder, used friends to lure him into buildings rigged to explode, and when those failed, hired the mercenary, Deathstroke to kill him. Initially, murdering Robin had been about bringing the Dark Knight down to the Joker’s level, forcing him to see; realize he was as insane as the rest of the inmates housed in Arkham. 

In the Joker’s warped view, anyone could snap after having “one bad day”.

Shooting Robin following the failed heist of a rare jewel didn’t cause Batman to finally give in and kill him, though. 

Resulting in the Joker becoming more obsessed with pushing the Dark Knight into breaking his “golden rule.”

A line he came increasingly close to stepping over in the months following the brutal death of Jason Todd. 

He hasn’t crossed it, though. 

Keyword: yet . 

While the Clown Prince of Crime failed to push Batman over the edge, he had managed to turn him into a one-man wrecking crew. 

Nobody was safe from Batman’s wrath. 

Not even they — the children he welcomed into his home and the cartoon circus world that was his life — remained unscathed. 

Instead of embracing them, as a normal parent would after suffering the tragic loss of a child, Bruce banished them from his home, and his life.

Dick retreated to Haly’s Circus to nurse his guilt and grief while her cousin, Barbara opted to simply disappear altogether. 

As for her? 

Well, she chose to remain and serve the city as Special Agent Raya Kean since she was no longer allowed to use her alter-ego, Fenix. 

Batman could take away her mask, after all. 

He had no control over her badge. 

That particular decision remained solely up to the police commissioner. 

Her refusal to comply with his order to leave Gotham went over about as well as new Coke did in the 80’s. 

Batman confronted her outside Arkham a month after she failed to leave the city as he mandated.

Raya remained firm in her stance, however. 

Gotham was her home as much as it was his . 

And I’m going to serve and protect it despite what the Bat-ass says. 

A sound — a barely discernible thwump   — interrupted her dark musings. 

There was only one man —outside of Batman — who’d drop down behind her like that. 

Only he’d dare. 

“Hello, bird boy.”

To keep reading click:

[petrifiedcrange]

Hello!

I'm Di ( but you can also call me Spades ), she/her, a twenty-something disaster and this is my independent, semi-selective, heavily headcanon-influenced and in some cases definitely canon divergent now, multiship and multiverse ask / RP blog for Stede Bonnet, Izzy Hands and their family from HBO's Our Flag Means Death.

I’m selective in a way that I will write only what I see happening for my muse ( so, if you’re an OC, then I'll have a look at your about page and/or would like to come talk about your character in DMs if you don't mind telling me a bit about them, and if you’re from another fandom, then I will write with your muse if I see how our muses could click… that said, I'm very open and welcoming of crossovers and simply adore OCs ) and what I have inspiration for at the moment.

I also have anxiety and occasional ( sometimes pretty long, sometimes short ) bouts of writing block, so I may be slow with replies / have impromptu hiatuses.

USEFUL LINKS:

Rules

Muse list

Interest tracker

Open starters

Memes

Calls

OTHER BLOGS:

@bellecourageuse - Belle Gold (neé French) from Once Upon A Time

@fedoraxcrowned - Raymond "Red" Reddington from The Blacklist

@dealmxkerofgold - Rumplestiltskin (aka The Dark One, Mr Gold and Detective Weaver) from Once Upon A Time

@fieryncbles - general multimuse

@disgracedsurgeon - Dr Martin Whitly from Prodigal Son, on hiatus

@prodigalwife - Jessica Whitly from Prodigal Son, on hiatus

@unfixablcbright - Malcolm ( Whitly ) Bright from Prodigal Son, on hiatus

@ambitiouxblonde - Ainsley Whitly from Prodigal Son, on hiatus

@ace-of-spaders - personal blog

STATISTICS:

Drafts: 000

Inbox: 000

Starters: 000

Queued: 000

[plainbageltoastedwithbutter]

prodigal son characters as dogs

malcolm bright

gil arroyo

jessica whitly

dani powell

ainsley whitly

martin whitly