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I love Cass because she exists as a paradox to herself. She has a stronger belief, an eternal conviction in second chances that outweighs anyone else around her—you can change! Nobody dies tonight!—and proves that she's willing to die to give strangers them that chance, over and over and over again. Everyone has not only the right, but deserves the chance to make the choice to do the right thing—which means they must be saved. It doesn't matter who you are. Good or bad is irrelevant. And it's not that she's a contrast to the rule—because it's exactly her life and her choices that serve to prove to herself and everyone around her that her conviction in life and redemption isn't baseless ("you turned yourself into one of us")—but killing that man as an eight year old girl is something that has permanently altered her sense of "being good". She did a bad thing and now there's something bad about her forever. She can do good with her life—it's all she wants to do—but she can't ever make up for that one act of murder. Nothing will ever be enough. So she willingly puts her life in the balance to give people that chance. Nobody dies tonight, except for her. Her life is expendable like that. Except it's not! If Cass isn't there to hold up this ideal, who is? No one can do what she does. She's the best there is. She doesn't kill, but she doesn't lose, either! Even though putting her life on the line is instinct! And she has to learn how to live and see the value in her own life even though she still wouldn't hesitate to die protecting someone else... I love you Batgirl. Straight up It's time to forgive your hands for being hands.
was feeling nostalgic looking back at pics from my first ritual and completely forgot to ever post this one..I think it’s very pretty ✨
you are so kind and good and lovely
this is actually crazy and such a good microcosm of their relationship. telling sam "ghost brother" chung that he's not part of anything that matters after YOU inserted yourself into his life re: the shrine; muse has no understanding whatsoever of sam and blindspot's place in chinatown and the world and only "sees" him insofar as he can be exploited for muse's sake. get away from him
okay I haven't read this run and idc about it and elektra hasn't been in-character for yeaaars but let's not pretend elektra doesn't have a long history of connecting with young children & especially girls and looking out for them. that's actually a pretty important aspect of her character
The most compelling part of Cassandra Cain's character for me continues to be how her self-hatred conflicts with the way her life experiences have shaped her into a person for whom it is pertinent and necessary to believe that everyone—especially those who have "proved" by some metric or other (the justice system, personal opinion, Batman's direction, her own abusive upbringing, actively shooting at her) that they should be given up on in favor of doing the "righter" thing—deserves to be given the chance to do and be something good, and that it is not up to anyone else—let alone her—to decide that their life is unprecious, unwanted, and sacrificable.
She clings to this belief so strongly that she would rather take bullet after bullet for a stranger trying to kill her than move out of the way. There is almost zero exception to this—save for, notably, herself. Her life is at odds with her own conviction in redemption; every opportunity to protect a life is also conveniently one in which she would be fine with being rid of hers. Her inability to conceptualize and treat herself as anything other than, to her core, an eight year old little girl who will forever be a killer is in stark contrast to the gentle approach she takes with other children.
This is a direct parallel to her relationship with Cain, which she believes has doomed her to be fundamentally bad. However, Cass wholeheartedly believes in what she's telling him; she wants this little boy to understand that he is independent of this "badness" that his father carries—that it is not a reflection of his capacity for being good. He can be different because he is different; he is not his father.
His silence and inability to look her in the eyes tells her that this divide from one's father is something that he—much like her—cannot apply to himself. The issue ends with the best she can offer him: a silent, understanding hug.
Cass is capable of extraordinary amounts of compassion and kindness. She has a compulsive need to keep trying. The Father's Day issue with Cain is a fantastic example of this.
Here lies David Cain—the man who shot her from behind with bullets as a little girl—bloody and beaten on the floor after fighting with her... in a moment in which she acknowledges he was a terrible father... yet something still compels her to leave him with a Father's Day gift (a flower and a note labeled "DAD").
She knows he doesn't deserve it. He's a terrible person and a terrible father. Yet she got him a gift in the first place—and still gave it to him after he once again proved undeserving of anything from her at all.
Even when confronted with the most extreme situation in which she believes someone (the person who transferred this 'badness' onto her) doesn't deserve what she can give them—she continues to try. She is able to extend a fundamentally kind act to Cain—how does that reflect back on her view of the self?
Maybe one day her self-hatred can become a background influence in her life, as opposed to a dominant one that fuels the continuously self-preservative-lacking actions she takes (like Bruce acknowledges in Gotham Knights #2 in which she plans on going down with a sinking ship: Her experience of being trained almost from birth as an ASSASSIN leaves her less than fully able to acknowledge her own capacity for GOOD. Not for DOING good. But for BEING good.) in the name of helping others. Maybe she can offer her younger self the same understanding she gives to that little boy. But, for the time being, she will have to consciously carry (and treat) herself (as if it's true) with the knowledge of what she thinks she is always a step away from devolving into.