#Gil Arroyo Fanfic

[incorrectprodigalsonquotes]

What Could've Been for Prodigal Son Season 4... Part 1

Okay so this is what could've been for Season 4, of course you're free to disagree with me but this is just how my brain thinks might’ve happened to just settle the fact that we never got closure lol:

Season 4 starts where Season 3 left off more or less

Malcolm is still at the hospital with whom he now knows to be his sister (seriously, Lorelai or Katherine? Which name? I'll just call her Sissy for now... because she's a little sister lol)

Her husband makes his first appearance, and he's a little cautious about Malcolm. Sissy wants to know her older brother, especially now that she's learned that her birth father is one of New York's infamous serial killers. She needs to know how to live with that.

Dani goes to the hospital to see Malcolm, hugs him, then slaps his chest because she thought he got seriously hurt... again. We'd get the first Brightwell moment of the season, possibly a kiss.

They have another moment in the waiting room as Malcolm talks about the fact that he now has another sister and that it turns out his mother thinking Martin had been cheating on her wasn't her getting the wrong vibe, they both had the right instincts back then, Malcolm had just been able to prove his suspicions. Dani hugs him and tells him that she's here for him, whatever he decides to do to proceed.

Martin is awake, and he tells Mr David that he wishes to call his family, he has a few words for "his boy".

A case with another family annihilator comes their way but the main difference this time is that it's attempted murder because the killer got it all wrong. He killed his boss because he got rightfully fired and he didn't want to face his family so he'd been lying about going to work for weeks and then he tried to kill them... thankfully he failed.

It brings up a lot of feelings for Malcolm because he can't imagine doing something like that to his own family... but then again, Martin was technically his family because DNA (dumb DNA) and he wonders if stabbing Martin (again) wasn't just a fluke and it was just tapping into who he really is.

At the end of the case, Malcolm and Gil have a conversation, and Gil tells Malcolm, "I don't know if I ever told you this, kid, but... even though I do worry about you and I always will, the one thing I never worried about was you becoming like the Surgeon. You two might be related by blood, but you are your own person, and you have proven more times than you'll ever know that you are a good man. One I happen to be very proud of."

Halloween episode where they all dress up... Malcolm is clearly dressed up as Waldo of "Where's Waldo" fame. It was Dani’s idea jokingly, but he took it seriously. Dani is dressed in the sequin jumpsuit similar to the one Sandra Bullock wore in "The Lost City", a movie both she and Malcolm really enjoyed.

At the end of the episode, Malcolm is informed that Martin has woken up and wishes to speak to him. Malcolm declines.

After that, a Dani backstory episode about her and her family. We learn about how her dad died (it was definitely something unexpected like a car crash) and also why Dani chose to join the force in the first place. Dani's dad was actually an officer who was in the same police academy class as Gil, the two might have been friends in their academy days and then years later, it wasn't until after Dani was brought onto his team that Gil realized who her dad was. One of the reasons Dani likes Gil as a boss is because he reminds her a lot of her dad.

Christmas episode and partial JT backstory (we don't learn his name until Season 5). We see how JT and Tally spend Christmas, especially now that they have a son who is almost two years old. They're very happy and Tally tells him that she's pregnant again.

They invite everyone from both their jobs for a Christmas party too.

The Christmas case involves a gingerbread house competition and one of the judges was killed because he rigged the contest so the woman he was having an affair with would win. That same woman tries flirting with Malcolm but not only is he oblivious to it, he also makes it very clear just how in love he is with Dani.

Malcolm also sends his half-sister a Christmas card. He considers sending one to Ainsley but finds the ripped birthday card she sent back in his drawer and decides against it.

Gil actually takes Jessica out to dinner for Christmas Eve, hoping to start a tradition for the two of them. It goes so well, they both wonder if this is some kind of dream.

Malcolm and Dani spend Christmas Eve together and Dani teaches him how to make a lavender mint hot chocolate (an idea I got from @morningssofgold seriously go check out her Brightwell fics, they are incredible!) Malcolm says how he's never felt so... calm on Christmas Eve, like there's no expectations, they can just enjoy the night.

Dani agrees and offhandedly says, "There's something soothing about the people you love making you feel at ease..."

Malcolm stares at her for a moment.

Dani tilts her head, "What?"

He finally smiles before he pulls her in for a kiss, stopping for one moment to whisper, "I love you too..."

The mid-season finale ends on a seemingly positive note...

Until the actual final scene.

Ainsley can be seen picking up the phone and calling someplace. The camera goes around her apartment as her muffled voice seems to be asking for someone. When the camera goes back to her face, she's smiling, "Hi Daddy... Merry Christmas."

Martin’s voice happily saying, "My girl"

Mid-season finale ends on Ainsley’s smile (maybe) turning sinister.

[missshezz]

9 Crimes Masterlist (Batman/Prodigal Son crossover)

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?

Chapter(s):

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Come check out my other stories on AO3: MissShezz

Thanks for reading! Take care! 🥰

[the-flaming-nightmare]

Unexpected second chapter: Medicine and Stories

Malcolm wakes up in the wee hours of the morning to a wet diaper and a very achy body.

Reblogs are dearly appreciated! 💛

[eddieheart]

Autistic Malcolm Bright Headcanons

Part one

still has his childhood therapist because he hates change

has a hand shake stim that exasperates his hand tremor

he's bad at talking about his feelings and keeps things bottled up

doesn't understand social queues and comes across as rude

studied psychology so he could better understand the people around him

Gil used his detective powers to teach Malcolm how to 'read people'

he went non verbal after his dad was arrested because he couldn't deal with all the emotions

has trouble recognizing and naming emotions his and other people's

'are you angry or are you joking, no reply, please tell me'

over analyzes everything

special interests are psychology, true crime, ancient weapons, serial killers and budgies

[prodbionic]

Through the Dead of Night

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Suffocation

Prompts from @whumplovers-collaborate weekly challenge

Fandom: Prodigal Son

wc: 6.8k

Summary:

"Who did you tell about this? Have you told lieutenant Arroyo yet?" He closed one slow step after another of the distance between them. "Answer me!" he screamed. "You don't want to do this, we're in the middle of the precinct," Malcolm tried the reasoning tactic, knowing full well it was bound to fail. Really, he should've ran when he had the chance. "So you haven't told him. Good." Malcolm caught a killer in the most unimpressive way, almost like, a killer caught Malcolm.

Read full on ao3

Chapter 1.

It was nearing the middle of the night, all his team members had given up –rightly so– and went home to rest and recharge. That was a few hours ago. Malcolm knew if he went home he wouldn't get any of those things. Home was where his monsters lay dormant waiting for his arrival to torment him. At least here, in the station, he could put in extra work, find puzzle pieces that go together that his team could work with tomorrow.

He was bent over reports, files, witnesses' accounts, and had been for at least four hours straight, according to his phone's clock. Food, drinks and bathroom breaks were forgotten, even when he was aware of his body long enough to notice its needs. His little notebook that had the pen stuck in its spiral wire occupied the far corner of his cubicle desk where he'd reach for to add a note every now and then. It was almost full despite being relatively new, but it was a staple, a companion since the beginning of this case to the point that his teammates couldn’t resist teasing him.

His phone chimed with an incoming text. It felt too loud for the quiet of the graveyard shift, so he silenced it. The text was from Dani.

"Please tell me you're resting."

Malcolm's lip quirked as he replied, "still at the precinct. Hoping for a breakthrough 🤞. You're supposed to be asleep."

When he didn't get a quick reply he placed his phone face down and stretched to grab his pen, his mind seamlessly shifting back to the case and absentmindedly clicking the pen on and off, deep in thought. There was an idea. One that he balked to write down on paper. A possibility, an assumption that shouldn't be made lightly.

He went over some reports again… he had to be at least mildly sure.

A discomfort in his belly that he'd been ignoring for a while, but that had persisted, increased into a prickling pang. Malcolm huffed in annoyance at having to get up.

"Associate on the force, low rank/desk job," he wrote in his notebook before straightening his back and stretching his arms.

Now that he'd paid attention to it, the pressure in his bladder almost throbbed. On his way to the bathroom he looked around at the handful of people who lazed about. An officer on a quiet phone call, his lips half lifted in a sly smile, probably talking to a significant other. Another officer played a mind-numbing game on the computer looking like he was asleep with his eyes open. Another one who had headphones in, listening to a podcast maybe, relaxed in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head and his legs stretched on the desk. His eyes followed Malcolm. Malcolm nodded hastily in greeting, before leaving the bullpen.

In the bathroom, after relieving himself and washing up, Malcolm splashed water on his face, once, twice and then just kept his cold wet hand over his tired eyes for a while. Maybe some more caffeine could freshen him up. And maybe–he had to go home at some point, too... maybe now was it. But he was on the verge of a breakthrough in the case. If he went over the timelines and the personnel involved around each case, if he did some matching and… he could compile a suspect list. If his assumption were true.

The door to the bathroom opened before he could decide. Malcolm went for a tissue to dry his hands. The officer whom he greeted a few minutes ago came to stand in the stall next to him with a noncommittal 'hey'. Malcolm smiled slightly saying, "hi," and pitched the used tissue into the bin before heading toward the exit.

To Malcolm's surprise, the man reached from behind and slammed the door into its frame. Malcolm turned. "What are you–"

His head got smashed into the wall, a whiteout ruptured in his vision. Malcolm sucked in a breath. He fell and his arms shot out to grab anything for balance. Nothing was there. The shock of the unprompted violence took precedence for a second, and then it was just diffusing, throbbing pain, but his struggle to clear his starburst vision was a signal and a reminder to the impending danger. His legs swiped, trying to trip the man whose blurry shadow was just in front of him. The man cursed and jumped backwards. Before Malcolm could stand up, he was brought up by his lapels. The hands holding him were instantly replaced by a forearm that pressed into his neck, hard , cutting off his air, and effectively pinning him to the wall.

"This yours?" The man asked in a tone of tightly leashed anger.

Malcolm squinted and saw his notebook held open in the guy's hand. Front and center, the last note he'd written.

Associate on the force, low rank/desk job.

Malcolm couldn't believe his luck. He didn't even think they'd be so lucky as to have that person here, in their precinct. Under their noses this whole time? He caught the guy. In a way. Being choked by said guy was beside the point.

The guy must've really expected Malcolm to answer because the pressure on his neck loosened.

"I was right !" Talking hurt, but that never stopped him. The exhilaration of the reveal pumped adrenaline through him, even masked most of the pain. "Yeah, it's mine. Can I have it back?"

Unimpressed with Malcolm's cheekiness, the man seized Malcolm's jacket and threw him the length of the room where he hit the smooth floor and slid a few feet. Still banking on the adrenaline rush –even though it shook him– he recovered quickly, stood up, ducked to avoid a fist , and successfully delivered two consecutive solid hits to the man's solar plexus and lower abdomen.

Wracking his brain to remember the name —he must've heard it here or there— Malcolm made use of the man's folding and grunting in pain to rub his throbbing neck and clear his throat.

"You're Kurt, no? Kirk? Kent?"

Malcolm was probably enjoying this more than he should. If Gil was here, Malcolm would've had an earful. He should call Gil. Or open the door and holler down the hall so that anyone on shift could hear him and come bearing handcuffs. The likelihood of anyone hearing what was going on inside this closed bathroom was next to none. Oh! Malcolm snapped his fingers, "Carl! Your name is Carl. Why'd you betray your oath, man? Protect and serve? Who are you protecting?"

Carl slowly straightened, staring daggers at Malcolm, while the notebook dangled between two fingers. "None of your business, profiler. Who did you tell about this? Huh? Have you told lieutenant Arroyo yet?" He closed one slow step after another of the distance between them. Malcolm backed into the far wall of the bathroom. It was unfortunately too late for the option of hollering down the hall, having Carl between him and his means of escape. "Answer me!" he screamed, his face taking on a deep crimson hue.

"You don't want to do this, we're in the middle of the precinct," Malcolm tried the reasoning tactic, knowing full well it was bound to fail. Really, he should've ran when he had the chance.

"So you haven't told him. Good."

Carl only had a couple of inches on him but Malcolm had agility, hopefully. And when Carl charged, Malcolm was ready. He ducked and slid on the tiles, quickly pulled free his tie, folded it around his fist. With his elbow he smashed the nearest mirror above the sink beside him. It shattered in a great shower of shards. Malcolm grabbed one with his covered hand and held it in a threatening position.

Carl wasn't the least bit threatened. "You're outmatched, dude. I was top of my martial arts class. Drop the broken glass."

It didn't escape Malcolm's notice how the officer did not once try using his service weapon. If he was as smart as to cover his tracks that long, and cover for his serial killer buddy, he wouldn't. Moreso, a gun fired would definitely get the attention of the couple of officers in the bullpen. Nothing much might get outside of these walls, but a bullet would.

"So was I, " Malcolm replied.

They tussled, but Malcolm had to give it to Carl. He was a tough guy. Malcolm managed a few cuts and punches, but the man's resilience seemed immense, and gave as much as he got, the handful of cuts in Malcolm's torso and thigh proof of that. Of course, when his reputation and career were on the line, and he faced being exposed as a facilitator and clean-up guy for a killer, he had to be.

They were both on their knees on the floor, heaving, exhausted, recovering from a mutual back and forth when Carl sprang and grabbed Malcolm's hair. The pull was painful on its own and Malcolm pulled himself away even more, trying to slide his hair free, to no avail. Carl had it in a clutch. So Malcolm dug his fingers in Carl's face for leverage but the man punched him in his stomach, successfully dislodging him.

Still on their knees, now Malcolm was doubled down, Carl slammed his head into the floor, once, then again with unbridled ferocity and rage. Pain exploded in his previously assaulted and already tender head. This time, however, there was warmth significant to blood spilt. It crawled into his right eye as he lay sprawled out, face down on the tiles, and blinked dazedly.

Carl was not in his immediate space but that was the extent of Malcolm's knowledge with vision blurred from the blood and the familiar haze of an oncoming concussion. Nausea roiled in his gut and it was all Malcolm could do not to throw up, breathing deeply through his nose, clamping his jaw shut and swallowing convulsively.

He pushed on his hands, a poor attempt at getting up but a boot rammed into the middle of his back, face-planting him to the floor with an oomf.

The boot, and all the weight it carried, stayed firmly dug in his back.

Carl grabbed Malcolm's arm and roughly pulled it back. And then he went impossibly further. Malcolm didn't have an opportunity to brace himself even though he knew what was coming. His arm snapped. Somewhere at the shoulder. His scream at the flash of agony burned his throat and popped his ears, the crack of the bone reverberated through all of him.

"Stay fucking still," growled Carl in his ear.

He freed the tie from around Malcolm's hand and used it to rope his arms together, above the elbow, behind his back. Malcolm let out a guttural moan of pain as Carl roughly moved his broken arm this way and that until he was satisfied with the result. The nausea was impossible to contain this time around and Malcolm was left breathing heavily into the floor, in between bouts of dry heaves. Sweat dripped from his scalp and his forehead, mixing with the blood still trickling. His face lay in a small pool of sticky wetness.

Carl's voice came from the other side of the spacious bathroom, talking on the phone. "The shit you put me through, man. I'm in the middle of the fucking precinct, the nosy profiler was onto me . I should've thrown you under the bus the first time you asked for my help. No. No, you moron, you can't come in here. Well, what do I fucking do?”

Malcolm had to get out. He fought desperately against the overwhelming darkness that threatened to claim him, and wiggled his good arm. He instantly regretted it as sharp searing pain shot through his broken one. Malcolm clamped his mouth shut, a scream desperate to break free. Carl's attention better stay on his phone call for now.

"No, I have to off him. But what do I do with the body? Shift change is in a couple hours… you better meet me at the service door asap. Bring––"

Malcolm's mind drifted to put the pain in a backseat as he wiggled his arm again. If he could slip the tie under his elbows, he could slip his good arm free and escape.

Putting the pain out of focus cost him a high price. It was putting Carl and where the man physically stood in the bathroom out of focus as well. Hence, he was caught completely off guard, in his continuous effort to slip his binding –not that he'd made any progress– when something slipped onto his head. A second too late he realized it was a plastic bag, probably procured from the bathroom supplies cabinet. Weird how his mind got stuck on the mundane details in his shock. Malcolm kicked with all his might, even flipped on his back trying to land a kick. All the agony his arm was in, the pressure he put on it, how it got crushed between his body and the floor, it all took a backseat to the more imminent threat of choking on lack of air.

Carl was saying something that Malcolm had difficulty parsing amid his violent thrashing, his legs pushing the floor, crawling away. His broken arm sent shockwaves of hot pain as he pulled, and pulled, and pulled his good one in mad attempts at getting it free. Nothing else mattered except tearing this bag off of his face. Carl stepped on him –broken bones and all– as one might step on a pesky insect, causing a stifled scream to pop out of Malcolm's lungs that burned his non-existent amount of air.

Malcolm flopped, his lungs continuously bucking in and out as if it never got the memo that there was no use trying. The same memo that reached everywhere else making energy seep out of his pores and dissolve into the ether. A strange detachment settled over him, heavy on his spent limbs, where pins and needles raved under his skin.

Through the black plastic bag he could see the illumination of the light bulbs, now dimming dangerously as he lay there, lungs doing the inhaling and exhaling motion, but there was only vacuum. A fish washed up onto the shore. The weight of the entire world leaning singularly on his chest. Immense pain. A red hot fire poker rod stabbing him repeatedly in tandem with his heartbeats. Everything hurt. Unconsciously, his teeth gnawed on the plastic as it got sucked into his open mouth, maybe, just maybe, if it broke under his teeth it could let in a smidgen of air to revive his dying body. Alas, his jaws didn’t have the strength. His lids couldn’t be bothered to stay open.

At least they’re inside the precinct. At least he didn’t go out looking for trouble, having not called for backup. At least there was that. The team would catch Carl, and from there, his killer friend. They’d close the case. More importantly, they wouldn’t feel guilty for his death. Or shouldn’t. Would they?

Malcolm could feel himself slipping, unable to follow his thought till its end. Still, there were thoughts in his mind. Mundane details. What would his father's reaction be, learning of his death? Who would take care of Sunshine? How long would she be left alone before someone remembered to tend to her? A surge of fear overtook him, and panic! How did he not think of Gil? The stabbing pain in his chest made it so hard to think. And Mom? Ainsley! There was so much to ponder and he was running out of time!

Suddenly everything went fuzzy.

For a blissful second, he became weightless. The pain vanished and there was unadulterated relief.

For a blissful moment, Malcolm was carefree.

[dontsayimhere]

ok so I came across a little malcolm bright fanfic (don't worry babes, linked below, go enjoy) and it began a lil bit of brain rot so hear me out:

(spoilers for the fic, go read it first if you want, commentary/word vomit bit is below)

ok so in this malcolm has a seizure disorder which Gil knows about, but not Dani. stuff gets figured out, others are updated etc. etc.

BUT

my lil goblin brain couldn't leave well enough alone so after like the third time reading this i've decided to pen (or rather type) these ridiculous things i can just about call thoughts

SO

let's set the scene, malcolm (yh for some reason my brain thinks the name looks better lower case? sorry if that bothers you but now it's slightly more symmetrical?) has a seizure while Gil and Dani are there.

(also not trying to romanticise anything, just going off what i got)

Dani and Gil are both used to the Complete Human Disaster™ that malcolm is so obviously they both know seizure first aid for future reference.

(also gentle reminder, if you don't know this go find out, there's like st John's ambulance videos that make you a functioning member of society in under 10 mins)

now, based on the confidence that each of them seem to have regarding the situation, they keep looking at each other like "huh, they seem to have done this before"

so they end up each thinking that malcolm must have epilepsy/a seizure disorder that the other knows about but they never got told.

they look after him, do all the things you have by now learned in helpful video format (wink wink) and everything is fine, right?

THEN

when malcolm eventually wakes up, and is told what happened he is understandably eloquent in saying "wtf, how, why etc." and his surprise makes them realise that for once he wasn't just conveniently leaving out information.

i feel like this started out fine and got slightly more unhinged and less logical as it goes on but if that isn't life i don't know what is

the point may have gotten a little lost and it petered out a bit but i said a thing and it's done so woo

[lattecosmico2000]

❣️Estoy escribiendo este fanfic de una aventura/romance entre Garfio y Wendy. Puedes leerlo aquí o en wattpad. Críticas y comentarios bienvenidos ❣️

REGRESO A NUNCA JAMAS

Capitulo 1

<<<<<<<<WENDY>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Había despertado en una playa desierta, la cabeza me daba vueltas y mi boca estaba seca y llena de arena. Podía escuchar el sonido de las olas rompiéndose y el ruido de la gaviotas en vuelo. El sol me daba de lleno en la cara y apenas podía abrir los ojos. Definitivamente esto no era un sueño.

¿Donde rayos estaba? hasta donde yo recordaba debía de estar en Londres... Aunque cualquier lugar es mejor que estar donde estaba antes supongo.

Empecé a caminar por la playa sin rumbo fijo, El sol calentaba mi fría piel y el agua se sentía deliciosa en pies descalzos y entumecidos. Alcé los brazos al mismo tiempo que tomaba una gran bocanada de aire limpio. ¡Dios se sentía tan bien estar libre de nuevo!

Bebí un poco de agua de un arroyo cercano, así que descarté la idea de estar muerta ya que aparentemente aun podía sentir sed y hambre, así como sueño, muchísimo sueño. El clima cálido y el sonido de las olas comenzaron a adormilarme y debajo de la sombra de una palmera frondosa me acomode para dormir un poco.

Aun no me había despertado del todo y mi visión seguía estando borrosa pero lo primero que puede enfocar fue el brillo de una espada apuntando directamente a mi cuello y del lado de la empuñadura se encontraba un hombre alto de cabello oscuro y de ojos desafiantes y aterradores. Atrás de el había un pequeño grupo de unos cinco hombres también armados y expectantes.

− ¡Hey! − grito al mismo tiempo que me dio una ligera patada en mi pantorrilla− ¿Qué estas haciendo aquí?­− sus preguntas eran secas y agresivas. Pero yo me quede muda del miedo al ver el peligro en el que estaba y trate de huir retrocediendo lo más que pude hasta chocar con la palmera

­− ¡Quédate quita mujer! - gritó mientras acercaba mas su espada a mi garganta. Esa voz me sonó familiar, entonces lo miré fijamente a la cara y lo pude reconocer. A ese hombre que de forma más o menos recurrente aparecía en mis pesadillas− ¡Garfio! − grité de forma totalmente inconsciente e imprudente.

−así que me conoces, ¡perfecto eso hace todo más fácil! Si ya sabes quién soy, entonces estoy seguro de que también sabes mi costumbre de no dejar a las espías con vida, ¿Quién te envió y como llegaste aquí? −El filo de su espada se encajó un poco más en mi cuello mientras me miraba con una mueca burlona

− ¡No soy ninguna espía! se tu nombre porque ya nos conocíamos − le chillaba al mismo tiempo que trataba de parame − ¿En verdad no sabes quién soy? ¡Soy Wendy Moira Angela Darling! −Algo cambio en su cara al escuchar mi nombre, pasó de una cara burlona a una de total estupefacción y después a una de total repugnancia.

− ¡Cara larga Gil!, no puedo decir que sea una agradable sorpresa verte otra vez

Dicho esto, enfundo su espada y sin dejar de mírame como si de una alimaña ponzoñosa se tratara se alejó unos pasos de reversa sin quitarme la mirada de encima.

− ¡Increíble, aun recuerdas mi nombre pirata! −él aquella conversación que habíamos tenido hacía ya tantos años cuando yo todavía era una niña en su camarote, no voy a mentir me emocione ligeramente saber que me recordaba.

− ¡Claro que lo recuerdo, era un nombre ridículo! − Y ese breve sentimiento de felicidad se fue al traste de forma instantánea

− ¿Qué vamos a hacer con ella capitán? −preguntaron algunos de los hombres que estaban atrás de Garfio.

−Atenla y llévenla a bordo, Tal vez "Mamá Wendy" sepa donde era Peter Pan

Y así ocurrió: con manos atadas a la espalda me llevaron caminando al otro lado de la playa donde una pequeña lancha nos esperaba, a la distancia se podía ver el galeón de Garfio, era más impresionante de lo que recordaba y también mas grande.

Dentro del camarote de Garfio las cosas habían cambiado mucho desde la primera y única vez que estuve ahí, ahora todo era mucho más sobrio, las cortinas de terciopelo y los adornos extravagantes habían dado paso unas cortinas de lino blanco y una un centenar de libros, mapas, compases y catalejos, todos dispuestos de tal forma que indicaban una investigación náutica muy minuciosa y sobre todo constante ¿A dónde se dirige?

−Y bien Cara larga Gil, ¿Dónde está nuestro amigo Peter Pan? −me cuestiono sin más miramientos ni modales mientras se dejaba caer pesadamente sobre una silla de madera frente a mi

− ¿Peter Pan? −Genuinamente estaba confundida por la pregunta, si Garfio no sabía su paradero ¿Cómo iba a saberlo yo?

− ¡Si Peter Pan! , ya sabes el niño que no crece, el líder de chico perdidos ¡ese Peter! ¿O es que acaso conoces otro? −Garfio, alzó la voz molesto conmigo al tiempo que agitaba el garfio de su mano lanzando una mirada asesina que hizo que entrara en pánico unos instantes.

−No lo sé... no sé dónde está él, yo simplemente... −no pude terminar la frase porque sentí como una daga voladora pasó rosando mi oreja derecha a gran velocidad para incrustarse en la pared detrás de mí.

− ¿Sabes niña? es muy difícil no atravesarte las entrañas cuando claramente no respondes a mi hospitalidad mintiéndome a la cara.

− ¿Hospitalidad? Estoy amarrada y siendo interrogada ¿Cuál hospitalidad?

−Te lo pondré de esta forma: Los marinos de allá afuera hace mucho tiempo que no ven a una mujer, y si yo fuera tú agradecería el conservar aun la ropa puesta ¿nos entendemos niña?

Palidecí al darme cuenta de la total desventaja en la que estaba, y aunque la voz se me quebró un poco sabía que no podía flaquear, mi respuesta debía ser firme y concisa− ¡Ya te lo dije, no sé dónde está!... Mira entiendo que no me creas, pero te estoy diciendo la verdad; hace unas horas estaba clasificando unos libros en la bodega de la biblioteca y después...-Me di cuenta que esta parte de la historia no me convenía que se supiera, al menos no por el momento así que mintiendo como toda una profesional dije-...Después un extraño libro se abrió ante mí, me envolvió en luz y aparecí en la playa donde me encontraste.

Garfio me miró confundido ¿me que creyó todo lo que le dije o por el contrario me atravesaría la garganta ahí mismo?

− ¿Biblioteca? ¿Dónde hay una biblioteca en estas tierras salvajes?

− Ohm, Yo estaba en Londres, en biblioteca de la escuela para señoritas de Bedford. No he estado en Nunca Jamás desde hace ya mucho tiempo como puedes notar −dije al tiempo que me señalaba a mí misma.

Con una mirada rápida él revisó todo mi cuerpo de arriba a abajo

− ¿Cuánto tiempo ha pasado unos 2 o 3 años? − pregunto curioso sobre el tiempo de mi ausencia

− ¡Han pasado 7 años! Ahora tengo 19 años, 20 en un mes - no sé porque me ofendió que dijera eso, pero me hizo sentir insignificante

Un breve silencio inundo la habitación, Garfio tenía a la mirada baja y murmuraba para sí mismo unas cuantas maldiciones y otras palabras inteligibles. Rápidamente alzó la mirada hacia donde estaba yo y a pasos grandes se dirigió hacia mí sosteniendo una daga igual a la que había lanzado hace poco. Sentí como me daba un infarto del miedo al pensar que vendría a matarme, pero no fue así, cortó las cuerdas de mis manos, me dio una mueca rara qué supongo era una sonrisa y me ordeno que me sentara en un taburete cercano

−Señorita Darling, si lo que ha dicho es cierto, entonces su vida y seguridad están garantizadas mientras este conmigo. Por el contrario, si descubro que ha mentido entonces no solo se víctima de 50 hombres solitarios, sino que yo personalmente la usare como Diana para practicar con mis dagas ¿He sido Claro señorita Darling? ¿O debo llamarla "cara larga Gil"?

−Lo entiendo perfectamente Garfio, ejem, quiero decir capitán −Unas gotas de sudor frio empezaron a recorrer mi espalda, pero hice un gran esfuerzo y mantuve la cabeza firme y el mentón en alto.

−Me alegra que nos hayamos entendido Señorita Darling. Usted hace lo que le pido y yo la dejo vivir, tan simple como eso

Desde un extremo de su escritorio sacó una pequeña campana y la hizo sonar vigorosamente.

− ¡Es la hora de cena y yo estoy hambriento! ¿Desea acompañarme? pediré a Smee qué nos traiga algo de comer y beber para celebrar su afortunado retorno a Nunca Jamás

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Alibi” - Oneshot

“Alibi” - Oneshot

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Malcolm Bright x Reader, Gil Arroyo x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 2,000-ish

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Mentions of murder, cursing. Large chunks of text in italics mean that it is a flashback.

Summary: After your boss is murdered, you are brought in as a suspect. In order to prove your innocence, you have to reveal a secret to your father. 

Author’s Note: This was one of those ideas that hit me like a train right as I was about to go to bed, so I scribbled as much as I could down and tried to make sense of it the next day.

We’re also gonna pretend that Gil and Jessica aren’t a thing cause then that would make this story a bit awkward.

This is not beta read, so let me know if there are any mistakes! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, (Y/N), got any news for me?” Your boss, Mr.Naruski asked from his desk chair, casually weaving a pen in between his fingers. It was lunchtime and you had gotten salads from the meditarrian place that he liked.

“Well, Simon wanted to move his meeting with you to Friday, but there would be no way to do that unless we add another 4 hours to the day. Oh! And Mrs.Krewnshe asked me if--”

“(Y/N), sweetheart! We are on our lunch break! Which means I don’t want any news with my clients unless it's urgent. I meant news in the world of the best secretary in New York!” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a little bit and smile. Mr.Naruski was a true blessing when it came to employers. He owned his own architecture business in New York and somehow wasn’t a complete asshat like some of your previous bosses. He and his wife were incredibly caring and truly understood that you had to be a human in order to work with other humans. The respect you got here was well worth the daily commute!

“Well, if you really want to know... My boyfriend set up a nice, and very last minute, date for us tonight.” You couldn’t hide the true smile that spread across your lips. Mr.Naruski leaned forward and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? And where is this ‘nice’ date happening, if I might ask?” 

“I’m not sure. He wouldn’t tell me. All he said was to be ready by 6 because we have reservations for 6:45. But I have a feeling it’s that new modern industrial place that I was telling you about. He knows I love to walk past it and appreciate the details. While I don’t think I’ve ever said out loud that I like it or would like to go inside, he has a great ability to read me.” 

Your smile grew a little more as your eyes drifted slightly down, thinking about all the times your boyfriend picked up on the smaller details in the past. He was good with surprises. Mr.Naruski watched how this interaction brought out your best side. The two of you finished your lunches and got back to work. 

Your boss had one more meeting this afternoon. It was with a company called Jetlan Inc. From the small bit of conversation you heard as Mr.Naruski escorted his guests out, it was a successful meeting. He turned back to you once the door was closed and let out a relieved sigh.

“I take it everything went well?”

“As well as I could. They are going to take tonight to mull it over and then give us a call tomorrow. So expect Samuel to call at some point.”

You wrote down a little reminder to yourself on a sticky note “May get call from Jetlan Inc.” and placed it near your desk’s phone. You went back to typing out the schedule for next week when Mr.Naruski tapped a finger on your desk.

“How about you leave early today, (Y/N)?”

“Are you sure, sir? I can stay and help with the final prep for tomorrow’s deal if you want. I should also probably finish this schedule.”

“I think I can handle that on my own. And you can add your final touches tomorrow. You,” He stood up and walked around your desk and held out his hands. You put your hands in his and he helped you up before grabbing your coat from the coat rack. “Have a date to get ready for.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was almost unbelievable to have a boss that really cared about your personal life as much as your professional one like he did. You just slipped on your coat and grabbed your purse, knowing that when Naruski made up his mind, it was set. He opened the door for you and put a hand on your arm.

“He told me to ‘love with my whole heart, but be smart enough to know when to use my brain instead.’ I think it was his way of saying ‘Be safe and have fun.’” 

A small but sad smile worked its way onto your face at the thought of him being so supportive. You felt a wave of tears coming, so you finished up your story to try to stop them from falling. 

“After that, I thanked him again, and I left to go back to my apartment and get ready. The next time I saw Mr.Naruski was the next morning, behind the crime scene tape blocking my office, dead.”

You couldn’t believe that just 24 hours ago, you were happily talking to your boss about your date. And now he was dead. Murdered in his own office, two hours after you had left. You were being questioned at the NYPD by none other than JT Tarmel, Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright, and your father, Gil Arroyo. 

No one spoke, they were taking in all of the details of your alibi. It felt like forever before Malcolm broke the silence. 

“Are there security cameras in your office?”

“Yes. There is one in the main office where my desk is positioned, one in Mr.Naruski’s office, and one in the hallway outside our door.”

“Great. We can check those. They’ll show (Y/N) leaving and should have a timestamp on them that we can check.

The team did their own little nods, still thinking about your alibi. They wanted to trust you, but they needed to think of every possible thing that could have happened, or if they could find any evidence to the real killer.

“Who did you go on a date with?” Dani was sitting about 6 feet to your right, a bottle of water in her hands as she leaned forward, elbows on the table. 

“I don’t see how my dating life is relevant to my boss being murdered in his office.”

Lies. You knew why she was asking. It was a major part of your alibi and it’s the only other way that they could concretely cross you off of the suspect list. JT jumped in to try to diffuse the situation, none of them aware of how much you didn’t want to share. 

“It's just another way that we can confirm your alibi, (Y/N).” 

You could see Gil adjusting his stance as he leaned against the wall to your left. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at your father, already feeling his intense stare boring into you. 

The room was silent, but the anxiety in your chest made it feel like the room was half of its real size. You kept your posture as straight as you could while you focused on your hands that were unconsciously fidgeting on top of the table.

“Tell us the kid’s name, (Y/N).”

“Why can’t you just check the cameras like Malcolm said? That’ll show when I left at around 4:30 yesterday afternoon and when I came back today for my shift but saw the tape instead! You could even check my apartment’s security cameras!”

“Woah! We will, (Y/N). We just want to be able to cover our asses and yours.” JT tried again to calm you down, everyone know seeing how uncomfortable the idea of sharing the details of your date made you. 

Your leg started to shake under the table, that was your cue that your anxiety was getting bad. You lock eyes with Malcolm. He sees how much you’re struggling and just gives you a short nod. You knew what he was trying to say, but you really didn’t want to agree. Malcolm then took a deep breath, trying to get you to do the same. You looked down and tried to take a deep breath in.

“Why can’t you just answer the question, (Y/N)?!” Gil didn’t yell, but you could hear the annoyance in his voice. It was the final hit that broke the last of your defenses.

“Because it's Malcolm, alright?!” 

Even you were a bit shocked at the slight frustration and exasperation in your voice. As everyone let that fact settle in their brains, you closed your eyes and took a couple deep breaths, trying to accept the fact that it was out in the open now. Malcolm made his way behind you and put a comforting hand on your shoulder, lightly rubbing this thumb to try and soothe you. You opened your eyes and stared at the center of the table, your hands now clasped together. 

“Last night I left work early to go get ready for a date with Malcolm Bright. He took me to that nicer place off of 47th that has the grey brick exterior with the iron corner details. We went there to catch a break from our lives because it's been so hectic lately and we haven’t had much time to just sit and enjoy each other’s company.” 

Our reservation was for 6:45 under Malcolm’s name. You can check with the manager there, go into their electronic reservation system, and see that we checked in and everything. Or Malcolm may have some sort of confirmation email. Now do I need to go into detail about what we ordered or what cocktail I was drinking, or am I good?”

You slowly looked up to meet your father’s eyes. You expected something upset in his eyes, but instead, they were very professional. He looked from you to Malcolm, who in turn nodded, confirming your story. Gil audibly inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his nose and he rubbed a hand down his face.  

“No. You’re good, kid.”

You look back to your hands and close your eyes, focusing on your breathing. You weren’t hyperventilating, but you definitely felt a weight in your chest. 

Dani and JT looked at each other, unaware of what to do in this situation. Malcolm looked from you back to Gil, his face slightly pleading. Gil quickly tilted his head towards the door, a small sigh of relief coming from Malcolm as he moved his hand to your arm and leaned down to quietly talk in your ear.

 “C’mon, (Y/N). Let’s get some air or something to drink, okay?”

You nodded and stood up as Malcolm grabbed your coat from the rack near the door. You took yours and slung it over your arm as Malcolm opened the door for you. Before you could leave, Gil spoke up.

“I will be seeing the two of you in my office in an hour though. We need to have a chat.”

You just nod and leave already knowing what this “chat” is going to be about. Malcolm was reaching for his coat when Gil’s voice resonated again.

“Malcolm, take care of her. Go to that shop around the corner. They have those little pastries she likes. And make sure your both are back here soon. We’re not done with this.”

“Will do.” Malcolm nodded and quickly left and caught up with you, walking you safely out of the NYPD.

With that, there was still a semi-awkward air in the meeting room. Dani quietly fiddled with her water bottle and let out a “Well…”

“Heh! Yeah. That was somethi--” 

Before JT could get further, Gil pointed at him and sternly said “Don’t.” JT just raises his hands in defense and backs off. Dani couldn’t help but smirk a bit at the sight of JT getting called out. 

“So where do we go from here?” Dani calmly asked the room. 

“We need to get the security footage from the office building and (Y/N)’s apartment complex. Get in contact with the restaurant owner and see if we can check their reservation system, if not, ask Malcolm if he has any email from their reservation.”

“On it.” JT confirmed as he left the room to head to his desk and start working. Gil leaned on the table, thinking for a moment. “What do we know about this Jetlan Inc.?

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tags:  @malindacath @shadowfoxey @whovianayesha @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan

[procrastinatingsab]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Prodigal Son (TV 2019) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright Whump, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm gets the hug, Protective Gil Arroyo, Kidnapping, Hurt Malcolm Bright, Drabble Summary:

It has been two days since Malcolm disappeared.

Then they find him.

[fandom-happy]

Fic Post: We’ll catch you if you let us

Fandom: Prodigal Son

Summary: There is something that Malcolm has forgotten…the little nagging thing in the back of your mind that you are just too busy to focus on. Well at least his body will tell him what it is…eventually.

Notes: This was written for the ‘Forgetting to eat’ square on my @badthingshappenbingo​ Card and was just an excuse to see Malcolm in a bad way and have the team look after him 🥰

You can find it here on Ao3 as well - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40314519

~PSon~*~0~*~PSon~

Something was niggling at the very edge of his conscious mind. A couple of times now he had almost grasped it, in between leaps of interconnection for the case they were currently pouring over with a fine tooth comb. But each time a new line of thought would catch him and it was gone again.

This case had them all stumped, what was the connection between the killer and victims. The victims were literally pulled off the street at random times, in different locations, with no seeming similarities at all. But surely there had to be a connection between them. Something they had in common, that they just couldn’t see.

Malcolm was going through the latest victims file for what felt like the 600th time. The only pattern was that the victims turned up a week apart on a Friday evening. Was that it? Was it literally that they just happened to be the most convenient target at the right time? The right time…was that what was significant for the killer?

“MALCOLM!” Gil’s sharp voice right next to his ear and a hand dropping on his shoulder, had him jumping and almost falling out of the chair.

“Sorry, sorry…I just…I think I might have a connection…well not for the victims, but the killer…the timing, what if that is what’s significant. Nothing to do with the actual victims at all. The timing is what it’s about, Friday evening between 6pm and 9pm…that is the kill zone right? What if…” Malcolm apologised as he launched into telling Gil what he just realised.

“Ok, but Kid, we need to take a break, grab some food, some sleep. Go home Bright,” Gil told him, squeezing his shoulder as he looked at him with a fond but concerned expression. Malcolm hated that look on Gil’s face. It usually meant he was going to make him do something he didn’t want to do, like go home and sleep.

How could he possibly sleep right now? He was right on the verge of cracking this thing. What if this was the thing that help them finally work out who was doing this and why. He couldn’t just stop. They had to stop them before they killed again. Couldn’t Gil see that he just couldn’t…

“Malcolm, go home!” Gil commanded, his face becoming stern and cranky. Malcolm really didn’t like that face either. He tried to deploy his most pleading look as he went to launch into an argument on why he should stay, but before he could start Gil just frowned at him and pointed towards the door where Dani was leaning against the door frame, a resigned expression on her face.

Great, now Dani was cranky with him too. Fantastic. This night…day…what day was it again? Anyway, it was just turning into the worst day ever. Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it definitely wasn’t great.

Malcolm sighed heavily and pushed himself to his feet. Suddenly the world tilted to the right and sparkles of colour flashed across his vision. He had to grab the table to stop himself from toppling over into Gil. A sudden rush of nausea had him clenching his eyes shut and swallowing down the bile that tainted the back of his throat.

Shit, now he was definitely not getting out of leaving.

“Kid, hey, you ok?” Gil’s concerned face popped into his vision, startling him to swaying again so that he just dropped back down into his chair to avoid embarrassing himself and falling flat on his face.

He groaned softly as the world started to spin on its axis, ramping his nausea to 11. He dropped his forehead to the table and ignored the fussing around him and just breathed until it all settled again and he didn’t feel like he was going to hurl all over himself any minute.

“Have you eaten at all today? And no coffee doesn’t count,” Gil asked him sternly.

Malcolm was embarrassed at his lack of self control when a small whine escaped him at the mention of food. He gently shook his head, then cradled it in his hands as the spinning started up again and salvia flooded his mouth.

Fuck, not now, please.

“...sick,” he mumbled, trying to warn them of what was coming. He pushed himself to his feet. Clamping a hand over his mouth, willing his stomach to give him time to find a way to not make a huge mess.

Spying a waste basket against the wall, well he was pretty sure it was against the wall, it was hard to tell with the world spinning in slow loops around him. He stumbled over to it and dropped to his knees, just in time to lose his battle with his stomach into the thankfully empty bin.

“Jesus…get him some water, Powell,” Gil’s resigned voice echoed in his head as he continued to heave over the waste bin, his fingers digging into the sides trying to hold himself steady as the world continued to spin.

He felt himself starting to fall to the side as his stomach finally eased up on its clenching to purge him of everything he had eaten in the last year.

A rush of footsteps and firm hands were gripping his shoulders and easing him onto his side to lay curled on the cool linoleum.

“Oh kid,” Gil’s resigned sigh as he rubbed circles into his back had him curling further in on himself in shame.

“Here,” Dani’s gentle voice floated over him as an open bottle of water was placed down in front of him.

“Come on, let’s get you sitting at least,” Gil urged him as he felt Gil’s hands grip his shoulders again and slowly guide him up to lean against Gil’s chest.

Malcolm had his eyes closed against the slight spin the change in position had caused. After a couple of minutes of just breathing while Gil stroked at his arm and held him against his chest, he slowly opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when the spinning faded to just a vague half loop every now and then.

“You good?” Gil asked, looking down at him from his crouched spot behind him.

Malcolm had to swallow a couple times and then managed to croak out, “yeah, think so.”

Gil brought the water bottle up to his lips. 

“Here, just take a sip or two to start with,” Gil coached him as he grimaced and started to turn away from the offered bottle.

“Come on, just a sip. It will help get rid of the taste,” Gil urged him, raising the edge of the bottle to his lips.

Malcolm sighed and parted his lips a little, accepting the help to take in a tiny sip, pulling his lips away as his stomach voiced its displeased thoughts on that idea.

“Ugh, just give me a minute,” Malcolm pleaded, placing a hand over his churning belly and turning his burning face away from Gil.

“Hey, it’s ok, well it’s not ok, but I got you,” Gil tried to assure him, but Malcolm couldn’t help the shame that burned across his face and neck at having to be babied because his body had betrayed him again.

He tried to pull himself away from Gil’s chest, needing to get away from his mortification and regain some dignity.

Gil’s hand moved to press against his chest, his muscles too weak to resist him, so he just gave in and slumped back against Gil and let him shuffled them around so that they were propped up by the wall as Gil sat beside him. Malcolm hung his head unable to meet any of the eyes now watching him like a hawk.

“Sorry,” he croaked out, his hands betraying his distress by shaking and refusing to still in his lap.

Malcolm snuck a quick look at Gil as he felt his arm come around his back to pull him into his side as they sat against the wall side by side.

“Kid, we just want you to be ok. I’m sorry that I didn’t notice how far you had pushed yourself,” Gil apologised as he squeezed his arm around him.

Malcolm huffed and gave him a quick glare, “I’m not five. It’s not your job to keep me functioning.”

“Yeah well, you slack on that one every now and then so we try and fill the gaps,” JT’s smirking tone coming from over by the doorway had Malcolm looking up to see the man leaning in the doorway where Dani had previously been waiting to give him a lift home. JT gave him an amused half smile as he caught his eye and nodded a greeting.

Malcolm rolled his eyes at him and huffed at him too, “not a child.”

Dani’s hand dropping onto his knee and squeezing had him startling to look up at her, where she was now crouched down in front of him holding out a hard candy on her upturned palm.

“Then stop acting like one. Here, start getting your blood sugar back up before we need to call a bus,” Dani urged him as she gestured with her palm for him to take the candy.

He slowly reached out a shaky hand to try and pick up the candy, but he was struggling to get it to cooperate with him.

Dani sighed and quickly unwrapped it for him and then with a put upon look, held the candy in front of his mouth until he opened it to accept the candy.

He felt his face and neck heat up again and ducked his head to avoid her gaze.

Gil squeezed his arm and leaned in to murmur in his ear,” it’s ok Kid, let us help you.”

Malcolm looked over to him and saw only love and understanding looking back at him. He had to swallow down the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in his throat and nodded slightly.

The soft smile that he saw on JT’s face as he flicked his gaze up to see him over Gil’s head almost did him in.

What did he do to deserve these people that treated him like he was one of them? He didn’t know and he really didn’t think he deserved it, but he did appreciate having them to help catch him when he would inevitably fall. It would take some getting used to, but one day he would be able accept that he had family here. Family that cared and would look out for him when he couldn’t.

~PSon~*~0~*~PSon~

[incorrectprodigalsonquotes]

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Prodigal Son (TV 2019) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly, Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly, Gil Arroyo & Jessica Whitly, Gil Arroyo & Dani Powell, Dani Powell & Jessica Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Ainsley Whitly, Ainsley Whitly & Jessica Whitly Characters: Malcolm Bright, Dani Powell, Gil Arroyo, Jessica Whitly, JT Tarmel, Edrisa Tanaka, Sunshine the Bird (Prodigal Son), Ainsley Whitly, Martin Whitly Additional Tags: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:

(Rewritten)

Six months after that fatal day in Vermont, the profiler returned to work but not without feeling like he would be forever haunted by what happened. While on a new case, the team found the last thing they'd expected to find at a crime scene. Life is unpredictable. It's funny like that. He was given a task he didn't feel as though he deserved. Malcolm Bright always did like children but could he handle taking care of one?

Believe it or not, after six months, I finally finished the next chapter! I promise the next one won’t take as long... five months and three weeks, tops lol

[missshezz]

Chapter Three of 9 Crimes (A Batman/Prodigal Son Crossover story)

Chapter Three of 9 Crimes has been posted!

Chapters 1 and 2 can be found clicking the links

Summary: Jason Todd finds himself pulled back into the family when Malcolm Bright, one of the few members of the Batfamily he had no grudge with is targeted by a copycat killer. Can he set aside his bad blood long enough to bring this killer to justice or will old wounds, and dark memories, prevent him from working with Batman?

Post-Under the Red Hood

He stood at the top of a set of stairs as familiar to him as the cobblestone streets and dark alleyways of Park Row and Crime Alley. 

Pitch blackness surrounded him as he slowly descended those stone steps. 

Shadows taunted him, beckoned him, whispered in his ears with every step he took. Above him came the silky wet rustle of wings as the bats roosted amidst the jagged stalactites awoke. 

He reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed a footbridge over a slow-moving river to where a series of dark slate obelisks loomed.   

He passed them and continued up a steel ramp. From the corner of his eye he saw the changing area, workout room, medical area, and laboratory.  

He could feel eyes on him as he walked up another ramp to where the main computer grotto was located.  

Something shifted to his left.  

He turned as a figure oozed from the shadows, it's great gaping maw, and glistening fangs looming closer and closer...

[the-flaming-nightmare]

Gil takes Malcolm to Urgent Care when he realizes the cut on Malcolm's hand has likely become infected.

Reblogs are dearly appreciated 💚

[eddieheart]

THE SISTER

Part 4

Fandom: Prodigal Son

Pairings: NONE

Words: 556

Description: Dahlia finds her brother

Part 3:

"Let me get this straight, you're under the impression Martin Whitley, the Martin Whitley, is your father?" Bright asked sharply.

"I'm not 'under the impression' he's my father, I know he's my father. I've met him before, when I was little, that's when he told me about my siblings." Bright scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"That's impossible." He muttered out.

"Bright, c'mon. Ma'am, Dahlia, you said you've met him before? Did he mention anything else about your siblings?" The lieutenant asked respectfully, hands folding over each other as he leaned in closer to hear her response.

"He told me I had an older brother named Malcolm, and that I had a younger sister on the way. I don't remember too much but, the one time we were in the back yard talking waiting for mum to call us for dinner and he told me about my baby sister." She paused to swallow back and emotion she couldn't quiet place.

"He said he wanted to name her Patrica after his mother, but I had just read this book, and I was enthralled with the main character, so I told him he should name her Ainsley. That it was the most beautiful name ever. He said he'd do it. So Malcolm and Ainsley, or Patrica." Her eyes glazed over as she spoke of her father, swallowing thickly she looked back at the older man.

Dahlia noticed a tremor in Bright's hand, he   brought it up to his face to stop the incessant shaking. His face was hard, like he was having a hard time trying to process what she'd said.  

"Who was your mother exactly." Bright asked coldly.

"She was his scrub nurse, one of the best cardio-thoracic scrub nurses in the state. They had an affair, he said he'd leave his wife, she got pregnant, he didn't leave her, he got arrested. I never saw him again, until now that is. She never told me, just left me a letter." She licked her lips nervously and tried to stop the quiver in her voice.

"It was a tough pill to swallow, the realization that my father was a serial killer. All that time, play dates and long conversations by the swing set, he was killing people. Y'know, that he didn't just disappear out of the blue cus he was a dead beat but because... he got arrested." Malcolms eyes were he'd as she spoke.

He gripped his shaking hand hard and tried to stop his mind from wandering. 'Could it really be true, could they be siblings?' 'Had his father had another secret life they didn't know about?'

"So... can you help me find them, my family." Gill stared awkwardly at her question. Glancing between her and Bright.

"Mr. Bright, your the expert, do you know about Malcolm and Ainsley." She asked, voice full of hope.

He stared back at her and but his tongue lightly before he began to speak. He needed to tell her.

"I do actually. I'm Malcolm Bright, but I was born Malcolm Whitley, Ainsley Whitely is my sister and apparently you are too." She sat there in shock.

This was Malcolm, this was who she'd been searching for. Her eyes welled with tears as she watched him. She didn't know how to feel, what to say. It was all so foreign.

Part 5: TBD

@buggylad

[kanarek13]

Shattered

A cover for @procrastinatingsab’s fanfic Shattered ❤

Fills the WHUMPTOBER 2021 prompt

NO.5 - I”VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER - betrayal

[anxiouswhumpyescapism]

Like The Dawn

"I Know It Will Pass" (Bertolf)

You can also find this on Ao3.

Fandom: Prodigal Son (2019)  |   rated: General Audiences   |   wc: 198 (drabble)

Characters:  Malcolm Bright & Gil Arroyo    |    gen

Tags/warnings: mild hurt/comfort, headaches/migraines, comforting Gil Arroyo

Summary: Malcolm gets a sudden migraine. 

For some reason, it comes out of nowhere. 

His concentration wavers, until that point the article before him crystal clear and the focus of his attention. His line of view blurs, the printed words start to tremble – and then the pain is clutching at his temples, sudden and adamant. He closes his eyes immediately. He has ignored the symptoms up until this point, isn’t even sure there were any.

The article flutters from his hands onto the table, a deep sigh escapes his lips.

He swallows hard. 

There will be horrible nausea next, it’s already blooming in his stomach, starting to crawl up his body. Grinding his teeth makes the hammering pain in his temples worse but he can’t stop himself while he crumbles forward, bringing his arms up onto the table, turning them into a makeshift pillow for his head. 

His heart races. 

It’ll be okay. It -

„It'll pass, City Boy.“, a warm quiet voice washes over him and he feels a hand at the nape of his neck, hears a glass being put on his table. 

Gratitude fills him and his jaw relaxes. The sigh leaving his lips is now one of relief.

It will pass.