Give me a story where one of Bruce’s children has a kid (it doesn’t matter who, but Jason would be so sweet as a father) and Bruce is blown away by the fact that he is a grandfather. Where he’s standing there holding this tiny baby in his arms and he’s completely lost for words. He’s never been good with words, but now he can’t even begin to form them.
Because this is something he never expected. Not in a million years did he imagine himself as a grandfather. He had seen his life going down a very specific path when he was young. A very specific, very lonely path. Long term attachments had been outlawed to him by his choice of lifestyle, and children were even more out of the question.
He’d always known what the cape and cowl meant: an end to the Wayne family line. He had no siblings, and no close relatives. No one to continue the historical name, and he’d been ok with it. Or at least he thought he had. So when Dick, then Jason, Cass, Tim, and Damian had come they’d each been a surprise. A happy surprise, a surprise that was to Bruce always fleeting. Especially when he lost them, especially when he got them back.
So no, he hadn’t expected a grandchild. Not when everyone of his own kids had followed his footsteps. They’d all done it in their own unique way, but Bruce still saw what they did as a road with one outcome. That outcome was never settling down, never finding ‘the one’, and never starting their own family.
Yet. Here he stood, holding, not just the next generation, but the third generation of the Wayne name after his parents. Bright and bubbly, in his arms there was life, and with life hope for the future. Not just the future of his family, but the future in general. Because if a man like him could be so lucky to have made it to becoming a grandfather, then the world was better than he’d thought it was.
IF YOU THINK EMAILGATE2k17 WAS BAD WAIT UNTIL YOU HEAR ABOUT ESSAYGATE2k17
In which Quinn handed in 250 words of pure fucking salt instead of the French essay he was meant to because the question “write an essay on why you would have liked to live during occupied France” was the most bullshit thing he’d ever seen
God, these two ❤️ What would I (we) ever do without them. Words can never express just how much these two have meant to me, and will continue to mean to me for the next 30 or 40 or 50 years. They captured my heart all those years ago, from the very first episode I watched, and have made me cry, squeal, squee, scream, wail, jump with joy and every other combination in between. These two were, and still are, the #1 reason I love this show so much. Booth and Brennan truly are THE standard of all couples out there, and I couldn’t be more proud of that fact. They have been through hell and back together, stood over death together, faced down death together, saved each other from the brink of death multiple times, ‘chased each other through wars and serial killers and ghosts and snakes, and’….. my point is that they will forever remain the strongest and most resilient and loving couple to ever exist. And to have been witness to all of their moments before and AFTER they became a couple, and been able to watch them progress slowly from strangers, to partners, to friends, to best friends, to lovers, and then parents, and finally to husband and wife? That has been the most amazing gift that I could have ever asked for, and I swear, if I could go back in time and do it all again, experience their love all over again, I would do it in a heartbeat. So here’s to Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan, to the best damn otp out there, to the two people with hearts of gold; to the true epitome of soulmates and true love. Thanks for making my life messy, and confusing, and unfocussed, and irrational, and wonderful ❤️
Killers having less than favorable things to say about other killers.
Danny Rolling on Gerard Schaefer: “This guy has got real problems, doesn’t he? Schaefer is a little too full of himself and we can easily figure out the content of substance he is filled with. It smells like something pooling in a sewage treatment plant. He is just a spooky little punk who gets his kicks out of intimidating people. He’s a bluffer. He wants anyone who has the displeasure of entertaining him to believe he holds a full house, but if you call his bluff, you’ll find he only has a pair of deuces – two pitiful excuses for being barely human.”
John Wayne Gacy on Jeffrey Dahmer: “If Jeffrey Dahmer doesn’t meet the legal test of insanity, God help the one that does meet it. I mean, it – it has to really be something. If Jeffrey Dahmer doesn’t meet it, then nobody does.”
Charles Manson on Ted Bundy: “Bundy’s a rumpkin, Bundy’s a poop butt, Bundy’s his momma’s boy. Bundy’s out there trying to prove something to his own manhood. That’s got nothing to do with me. I don’t roll around with poop people like that. I stand with people that can stand with themselves.”
Edmund Kemper on Herbert Mullin: “He had a habit of singing and bothering people when somebody tried to watch TV. So I threw water on him to shut him up. Then, when he was a good boy, I’d give him some peanuts. Herbie liked peanuts. That was effective, because pretty soon he asked permission to sing. That’s called behavior modification treatment.”