#Prodigal Parents

[martyschoenleber]

Mom and Dad, Don't Give Up. ("Anita's Heart")

Mom and Dad, Don’t Give Up. (“Anita’s Heart”)

Parents of prodigals have a special pain, a sorrow that only those in the fellowship of the Suffering Servant know. Indeed, the suffering is made more severe BECAUSE they love Jesus. Love for Jesus hurts. Especially because we know the consequences of unbelief for such a Savior as ours.  Today, I was driving back from a trip to Philadelphia on a Standing Stone assignment to care for pastor in…

[greghatecrimes]

not to be overdramatic but i’m going insane over the framing of this shot. how thirteen is completely shaded by the trees (completely overwhelmed with her grief and and guilt and fear). her posture, how her body is angled away from house and she has her arms over her chest, shoulders slightly curling in— she feels vulnerable and afraid and is trying to protect herself. she looks like she wants to turn and run, yet she’s letting herself linger instead of fully turning away. letting herself stay so she can look specifically to house, who stands tall and straight and strong despite being nearly consumed by the trees’ shadows (his own pain, emotional and physical). house, who picked her up from jail, and who continuously refuses to be pushed away or leave her alone (“shut up, i’m not leaving.”) whose face is the only thing in the frame bathed in sunlight. she’s up looking at him from absolute rock bottom, and she’s facing him instead of running. when she shows him her tears, when she meets his eyes… she’s letting herself open up the tiniest bit. she’s risking emotional safety and comfort to reach out to him… her speck of light among all the shadows.

[zahri-melitor]

Okay.

I am being super, ultra cautious about how I'm wording this, but am going out on a limb here.

As someone who literally helped to care for her much younger brother (I had solo custody of him one night per week during his teens, I fed him, supervised homework, did his laundry, got him ready for school, made his lunches, all that jazz) I am just slightly familiar with what it's like to step in to be a guardian for a younger relative.

I'm reading Reborn. I'm reading basically all of Dick and Damian's appearances. I'm...not seeing a parent-child relationship here. I see mentoring and supervision, yes. I appreciated the "I was trying to have a night off" moment in Streets of Gotham. But a lot of this is just big brothering or vigilante mentor stuff.

I fully, 100% believe Dick and Damian bonded during their period together. I also believe they had a little family unit going on between Alfred, Dick and Damian. I respect people reading whatever interpretation they want to read of this material.

But from what I see on the paper? I think calling it parental is a stretch. Damian's in kincare, folks. On paper? Damian's physical needs are being provided by Alfred, his vigilante mentoring is being provided by Dick, as far as I can tell he's not even in education, and we get precious few insights into what's happening during daylight hours. (Especially, ESPECIALLY as I really have not seen Damian receive, well, boundaries outside of the field. Or consequences for his actions. Or...really, any active parenting)

Dick's looking after Damian, sure. But he's not Damian's parent.

And that's perfectly ok, not everything has to be reduced to a simple traditional nuclear family ideal.

[greenerteacups]

Hi GT, I hope you are doing well! who is your favorite Weasley?

Thank you! Absolute treat of a question. Oh, man. It's Ron, right? It was always going to be Ron.

So here's the thing: the Weasleys are a really well-characterized family in that you can kind of see a lot of character emerge through limited sketches and contextual information. Bill is Number One Boy, the best at everything, oldest child who was always confident and at peace with his indisputable place in the family; so he's a chill, cool, incredibly competent guy who naturally takes-charge. Charlie is a patented never-grew-out-of-your-middle-school-dragons-phase Weird Kid, but like, mindfully and enthusiastically so, because his parents probably still had plenty of time to support and nurture his interests; plus he's also different to Bill and excels in different ways, so they aren't too competitive (as we see). Percy is the first one to suffer from the pressure of mounting expectations, and he's very quickly followed by the twins, who do the classic "if I can't be the best I'll be the worst" late-sibling trick of acting up for attention, so he gets lost in the shuffle. (The fight between Ron and Percy in Chapter 58 is, hence, in substantially about the relationship between the two most-ignored members of the Weasley family, and that's why Ron is so much angrier at him than the rest of them. Like I've said before, Ron always thinks he's got it the worst, but he takes pride in being able to kinda "tough it out," and nothing pisses him off like other people's self-pity.) Ginny is obviously the baby of the family, a girl with everyone wrapped around her finger, and I love her, but I feel like we didn't get enough grit in her portrait— she's just really successful in everything she does, in a way that can read as flat to some people, and certainly read as flat to me my first time through the books. In fact, Ginny reminds me a lot of Bill: first daughter/first son, described often as "cool" and clever and good at basically everything, charming and generally liked by all. Which is lovely. A delight to read, just like the twins are. But my taste in characters ranges way more fucked-up and mean.

Ron is the last boy, "sixth son of a woman who wanted a daughter" (fascinating line that complicates everything we know about Molly's relationship with her kids — and BTW, how the hell does Ron know that, and how old was he when he learned it? And this also comes into play with Molly's cry of "not my daughter" to Bellatrix which like, as a moment obviously fucking rules, but also — there's a reason she says daughter, not "child," right? Do you see what I'm digging at? Anyway). Ron meets Harry and recognizes himself in how Harry defaults to thinking people don't care about him, or won't help him if he asks, because — although they come from very different circumstances, Ron's home was completely loving, just not as nurturing as he always needed it to be — Ron usually goes in assuming people don't care about him, too. So his first instinct is to go: "Alright. Well, I'll care about you, then, weird stranger. Do you want to share my horrible sandwich, and also my life, perhaps?" Goddamn! Sixth of seven in a house with never enough to go around, and he's immediately like: "fuck it, room for one more." Because he could have been Percy — and you can see it in the way that Ron is mean, sometimes, he's not careful with his words and he struggles with empathy and he's got a vengeful streak that comes out when he's pissed — but he isn't selfish enough, he loves too much and too easily, and it takes shockingly little to earn his loyalty. You just have to pay a little attention to him.

[sofiart22]

This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased

I Miss You, I'm Sorry (Gracie Abrams)// Prodigal Son s02ep02 (dir.Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver)//The Sun is Also a Star (Nicola Yoon) // Thumbs (Lucy Dacus)// Prodigal Son s02ep01(dir.Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver)//Less Of A Stranger (Julia Jacklin) //Family Tree intro (Ethel Cain)//Prodigal Son s02ep08 (dir.Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver)

[whats-a-terrarium]

i love it when i get into a new fandom and im trolling the ao3 tag and see sooooo many people i recognize from several drastically different fandoms that at surface level have no overlap but i know what the overlap is. we’re all here for the divorced straight parents aren’t huh?

[capbrie]

root rot

some days i find it hard to remind myself that my dad is a good man.

my father is good, and he is just a man, and he is a good man.

yes, maybe he has done some bad things with his hands,

carrying around the rot,

but at the end of the day, he is a good man.

of course, it takes only mere moments for me to remember

i am talking about myself.

praying that his rot hasn’t dripped through,

hasn’t spoiled the bunch.

my hands have done bad things,

my words, even worse,

but at the end of the day,

i am good,

am i not?

my brother tells me,

we’re all terrible,

it’s the family way.

god, please, don’t let that be my way.

for so long i wished i had my mother’s name,

i guess now i know the real reason why.

the roots are rotted, my blood pumping with that scarred blood,

nothing i do ever good enough to erase it.

my knees bloody from the cragged ground that scrapes them,

hands clasped and prayers muttered,

please god, don’t let me be him,

please god, don’t let me be him,

please god, don’t make me be him.

[incorrectprodigalsonquotes]

Dani: Come on, Gil. The math thing isn't the problem. Night shift's keeping you and Mrs Whitly apart. You two just need to bone.

Malcolm: [Gags]

Gil: [High-pitched] What'd you just say?

Malcolm: [Whispers to Dani] Don't say it again.

Dani: I said you two need to bone.

Gil: How... dare... you, De-tec-tive Powell... I am your... SUPERIOR OFFICER!

Gil:

Gil: [Defensive] What happens in my bedroom, Detective, is none of your business.

Gil:

Gil: [Calm] Don't ever... speak to me like that again.

[icarianstars]

So I finished Prodigal Son last night and I just-

MICHAEL WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR

[house-of-crows]

So come and meet me again-

In a new light In a new guise In a new, and aching form

Stagnation is anathema, thus-

I have no heart to care, For the many tears you claim to weep Over an empty seat Filled to the edges with dust That was never shaped to fit what I became-

Show me a permanent state of self And I will show you what it is To die, alone, Caught between the cracks, upon the verge of Becoming

Tell me how you love me, Show me the works of your hands All that was done by name and word and deed-

And in return, thus,

"Truly I say to you, you never knew me."

-They called it love

[loreofthefritz]

Everyday I think about how Piccolo's post boy shirt is Goku's while Chi-chi forced him to wear it

[gemkun]

anonymous said : Are your parents proud of all of your achievements? ( for Dr. Ratio )

      ⸻       the   dawn   rises   ,   redirecting   its   rays   from   captivating   lines   to   a   query   ,   recondite   in   its   scarcity.   closed   ,   his   tome   resigns   ,   providing   the   doctor   with   arrant   focus   ,   despite   the   address   being   a   trifling   matter   entirely.   one   ,   that   was   seldom   on   his   mind.

  ❝   they   are.   ❞   he   states   ,   as   if   it   were   gospel.   after   all   ,   what   child   —   what   prodigal   child   ,   was   not   revered   by   his   parents   ?   with   all   his   accolades   ,   all   his   accomplishments   ,   all   that   he   had   done.   why   would   there   not   be   admiration   intertwined   ?   ❝   ever   since   i   showed   promise   ,   they   have   always   been   relatively   proud.   ❞   for   the   likes   of   veritas   ratio   ,   a   detached   lilt   is   hardly   unusual.   even   if   it   involves   the   topic   of   family.

  but   his   eyes   harden   ,   losing   that   lustre   for   only   a   moment.   steering   pupils   to   stray   minutely   —   a   smidge   from   the   enquirer   ,   as   he   ruminates   silently.   until   recognition   scolds   to   yield   and   revert   to   rationality’s   path.   ❝   since   my   embarkation   ,   i   have   maintained   little   to   no   contact   with   them   ,   but   once   i   finish   my   work   here   ,   paying   a   visit   is   a   feasible   consideration.   ❞

  he   ponders   on   the   situation   he   envisions   ,   regarding   his   return   to   home.   an   endeavour   he   would   partake   in   ,   once   his   promise   was   fulfilled.   or   rather   ,   when   he   would   reclaim   his   birthright   ,   sworn   to   him.

  there   must   be   a   wrap   —   up   ,   however   ,   with   time   being   a   precious   and   limited   commodity.   ❝   do   not   be   dismayed   ,   being   away   from   family   for   a   prolonged   amount   of   time   is   a   common   ordeal   amongst   all   pioneers.   besides   ,   they   did   not   hesitate   to   enrol   me   once   the   letter   of   admission   was   delivered   to   our   doorstep.   ❞

  reinstated   ,   neutrality   restores   the   doctor   to   his   prior   impartial   countenance   ,   erasing   any   and   all   trace   of   so   —   called   tells.   ❝   you   could   argue   that   i   am   the   embodiment   of   their   lost   ambition.   ❞

[gatogotica]

malcolm bright is female-coded because nobody listens to him even though he’s right 99% of the time. also he is the parent to his younger sister and both his actual parents. hope this helps

[the-flaming-nightmare]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Tagged by the amazing @anewkindofme 💙

Here's a snippet of a new PSON agere fic I started fairly recently; based on The Slap™ incident from episode 4 of S1.

"It took everything I had to walk into that cell–"

"Spare me!" Malcolm snapped, cutting his mother off. "You knew what he was doing."

Malcolm watched as a range of emotions crossed the woman's face in just a matter of seconds, before she settled on anger. He expected her to start shouting at him, maybe even slip up and reveal something damning, but he certainly hadn't expected what came next.

He didn't even see her raise her hand. All he registered was the sharp sting her hand left across his cheek, which was almost immediately followed by a burning sensation, as the momentum caused her nails to scrape his skin. It was by far the least painful thing he's ever experienced before, especially given his line of work, but the shock that overcame him was still enough to make him stumble aback.

He heard her gasp, but kept his gaze firmly set on the floorboards beneath him, mind desperately trying to comprehend what the hell just happened. He slowly brought the back of his right hand up, lightly grazing it over his now throbbing cheek and wincing when he made contact with the heated flesh.

"Oh God, Malcolm, I-I didn't..." She took a shuddery breath, all of the anger she possessed sounding to have disappeared. "I'm so sorry. I... I don't know what came over me."

He could take a guess. After all, it wouldn't be the first time she–

Malcolm's eyes went wide in horrible realization.

She had reacted with just about the same amount of aggression when he told her what–who he saw in that trunk all those years ago.

The thought of his suspicions possibly being proven correct instantly had tears flooding his eyes. As much as he wanted to believe she couldn't be capable of keeping a secret of that magnitude for so long, he had to remind himself that people were capable of just about anything given the circumstances.

He furiously blinked the tears away, before lifting his head and meeting his mother's gaze once more.

"I told you about the girl in the box, before I called the police." He paused momentarily, swallowing against the steadily growing lump in his throat. "You were wearing a red dress. You yelled at me, made me promise not to speak of it again."

At the mention of the dress, Jessica's eyes widened and her expression turned grim with recognition, before frustration began to creep back in to her eyes.

So, she did remember then, Malcolm thought.

"Your father's in your head, Malcolm. Can't you see that?"

Malcolm clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times, willing the tears to stay at bay until he was alone. "Well, so are you, mother."

The man moved to walk past her, but before he could get far her hand shot out towards him and attempted to grab his arm. He inhaled sharply, heart rate spiking as he flinched away from her with wide, frightened eyes, reminding him of that night when she held his arm in a death grip. Logically, Malcolm knew her intention had only been to stop him from walking away, but the suspicious and hurt part of him distrusted her even more now.

There was also something about the way she hit him that felt a little too Deja vu for his liking. It niggled at the back of his mind, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't place exactly why. Maybe... maybe his mind didn't want him to know the reason. Like with the memories of his father drugging him that his mind had sealed away for twenty years, maybe there was something else he wasn't being allowed to remember just yet.

"D-don't. Just don't."

She immediately stilled and pulled her hand back to her side, a mixed expression of hurt and anger blossoming over her face. "Malcolm, please, just let me–"

"No. I'm through with this conversation, mother. Please just leave. I want to be left alone right now."

Jessica sighed, rolling her eyes. "Malcolm, don't be like that. Let's just sit down and–"

"I said I'm done talking, mother! Just go–get out!"

Tagging (if you wanna): @angelique-of-the-volturi-guard, @snarkythewoecrow, @bat-to-da-robs, @tomwise, @adhd-mess, @sinninghowlter and anyone else who wants to join!

[fansformentalydistroyedmen]

Last Names

A Malcolm Bright x Reader

Beans get spilled, whoops

Chapter 4, Liars

Life sucks, make a new friend and boom you lie to him. Now you are being blackmailed, how great is this. Maybe his mom is right, he doesn't need all my bullshit. I run my hands through my hair frustrated. Should I even try to fix this, he doesn’t want me not if he found out the truth. The truth about my parents, my past, and maybe even these hidden and suppressed feelings I get only around him. I groan and stand up walking to my kitchen. I grab a glass and start to get some water so I can start taking some of my pills. After dowing the glass I lay down trying desperately to fall asleep. After countless hours of tossing and turning I finally fell asleep. 

“Don’t be a wimp just pull the trigger!” 

“I told you she’s too weak to do it.”

“Pull it or I swear I will kill Samuel!” *Gun shot* 

I sit up fast panting, sweat dripping down my face. I rest my head on my wall slowly trying to steady my breath. After a couple minutes I checked my phone, to my sadness no case for right now. That's when I heard my doorbell ring, I groaned but got up to open it. To my shock Malcolm smiles and holds two cups of coffee up, how perfect. I open the door for him and smile.

“Hi, umm what are you doing?” I ask

“Well last night my mom definitely said something to you so I figured I make it up to you.”

“Oh wow that's so sweet.” I rub my face.

“Please come in.” I smile as he hands me the coffee, I 

might need something stronger if I am going to tell him. We walk over to my kitchen island and he sits down. 

“So what did my mom say, I’m really sorry by the way.” He says sympathetically.

“Umm I- Malcolm I need to tell you something.” I bite my lip.

“Are you ok?” He asked, concerned. I stand up and run my hands through my hair and he follows me as I start to pace.

“I am but you're gonna be really mad and you have every right to be and I am really sorry.” I take a deep breath and see him staring at me trying very hard to profile me. 

“Malcom my parents aren't dead, I lied. My parents are actually in jail, I am a Scott, as in Maggie and Lenoard Scott. The serial killers and experimental child abusers. I am so sorry for lying.” He just stares at me, gears turning.

“Please say something.” I plead. 

“ Why would you lie if you just found out I'm a Whitly?” He questions.

“ I was scared but then your mom told me that she would tell you if I didn’t stay away from you.” Tears now streaming heavy and hot down my face

“Did you lie about your brother as well?” He asks

“No not at all, he drowned, they killed him. “Are you mad?” he bites his lip like he’s thinking then he starts choking? Laughing? He's laughing! My eyes widened in horror and my mouth opened as I taste the salty tears. 

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry.” He says while laughing.

“What the actual hell is happening?” I yell as he continues to laugh.

“Did you really think I didn’t know you were lying?” He laughs

“I- yeah.” I say exasperated.

“Please you are a terrible liar and this is literally my job. I knew as soon as you told me they died.” He smirked.

“Why didn’t you tell me!” I yelled, still having tears running down my face.

“Well you did lie to me also I am genuinely sorry about my prying mother.”

“You jackass!” I smack him and walk off. He grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him. My eyes widen as they meet his bright blue eyes. I swallow hard and wait for anything to happen, it would be so easy to just. No! 

“Y/N I’m sorry I didn’t think it through. I didn't think it would upset you.” He said sincerely.

“I thought I ruined the only relationship with someone who gets me I have ever had, so sorry I got emotional.” I said roughly.

“Y/N I’m sorry I shouldn't have.” I was having a hard time focusing since we were so close to each other I could hear his heart beats. 

“I mean… you forgave me, I think I can forgive you.” I continue to stare at his eyes, he slowly lifts his free hand and wipes the tears that were resting on my cheeks. This is wrong. I work with him, emotions are messy, he’ll leave me. I cough and pull away quickly and start walking away. 

“Breakfast?” I ask, walking over towards my stove.

“Uh sure.” He says following 

“What do you want?” I ask

“Umm, I mean I’m not sure I don’t eat breakfast a lot.” He laughs 

“Makes two of us.” I laugh while grabbing some eggs.

[silverwhittlingknife]

Dick at Janet Drake's funeral

Dick (internally): The cruel fates, the Greeks called them. The three sisters weaving the loom of life, spinning its golden threads into the years - cutting it whenever the whim took them. Stupid! But I guess we all need something to help us make sense of it all. We need to find meaning in the pain…patterns in the chaos. Tim needs it now, as I once did. As Bruce did before me. So why do we make our faces into masks? Why do we hide the pain we all feel? Tim: Thanks for coming, Dick. I know how busy - (They shake hands.) Dick: It was the least I could do, Tim. Believe me - I know what you're going through. If you need any help, any time - Tim (looking down): I appreciate that. But... I'll cope. (In the background, we see Tim shaking somebody else's hand.) Dick to Bruce: He's a brave kid. He's in control. Bruce: Yes. Dick: You know what comes next, don't you? - Batman 455 (Christmas Eve, the day before Tim officially becomes Robin)