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.

anonymous asked:

I'm curious, what do you think Rick's reaction will be to Michonne's *supposed* fall to doom? Especially, after the whole 'we can lose each other' speech. Do you think he'll go apocalyptic-throat-biting Rick or do you think he'll go catatonic-Lucille Rick. I genuinely can't decide, I don't think it'll be as simple on his psyche as he's telling himself. I think he's dealt with it in theory but I also think he kinda believes it'll be him rather than Michonne who's actually on the line.

Oh man. 😩I think you’re absolutely right that (perhaps in the back of his mind) he thinks he’ll die before Michonne. It reminds me of what he said about Judith in 7x04 – “I’ll die before she does.” Because he’d do everything in his power to save their lives before his own. Of course Michonne will be fighting alongside him, and he can’t protect her the way he can Judith. And I do feel like he believes it when he says that he can go on without her. He can. He will technically stay alive if Michonne dies. But I don’t think he’ll be living. He would never be ‘Rick Grimes’ again. And the moment where he thinks she’s dead will probably be a sad realization of this. 

So I can definitely see him going into a state of shock. This moment from 7x08 is what immediately comes to mind whenever I think about it.

    I think he’d just… go blind for a moment, believing that he’s seeing his life crumble in front of him; all the joy we saw in 7x12 turning to ashes in his mouth. And it’ll break me into a million pieces. And Negan will notice it and probably use it against him in the future. 😐But I think it’ll open Rick’s eyes to how unprepared he is to actually lose her. And more than anything, I can’t wait to see the moment when he knows she’s okay.

    Death is real.
    Someone’s there and then they’re not
    and it’s not for singing about.
    It’s not for making into art.
    When real death enters the house
    all poetry is dumb.
    When I walk in
    to the room where you were
    and look into
    the emptiness instead
    all fails.
    My knees fail.
    My brain fails.
    Words fail.
    Crusted with tears, catatonic and raw, I go downstairs and outside and you still get mail.
    A week after you died a package with your name on it came and inside was a gift for our daughter you had ordered in secret and collapsed there on the front steps I wailed.
    A backpack for when she goes to school a couple years from now. You were thinking ahead to a future you must have known deep down would not include you though you clawed at the cliff you were sliding down, being swallowed into a silence that is bottomless and real.
    It’s dumb
    and I don’t want to learn anything from this.
    I love you.