#Bruce truly having to understand the mistakes his own father made by seeing himself fail in the same ways

[golden-alchemy]

logically we may never seen Battison have Dick and Jason but I feel the thematic return of "Sins Of The Father" arc coming full circle with Jason / Red Hood would just go so hard

[linkspooky]

Do you have any thoughts on the Pro-Hero's discussion about Shigaraki and his hatred from chapter 311?

My thoughts are this, from both Jeanist and Hawks utter cluelessness to why Dabi could possibly have turned into a villain despite Dabi just telling them why, on tv, and being next to the man who pushed him into it, and from how all three of them fail to understand how Shigaraki could have been so easily groomed into hatred reflects an unacknowledged shadow for all three of them.

In Jungian psychology the concept of the shadow exists. The Shadow is an unconscious aspect of the personality which is outside of the conscious ego. While our consciousness is mainly made out of behaviors and memories, we judge as positive, and our Shadow differentiates by holding emotions, behaviors, and memories we label as adverse or painful. In a shadow, constructive perspectives might be incorporated, but most of the parts remain camouflaged under the thumb points of low self-esteem ness, anxieties, and false beliefs. "Everyone carries a shadow," stated Jung "and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. To know yourself, you must accept your dark side. To deal with others' dark hands, you must also know your dark side.

In other words, for characters like Enji and Hawks, all of their bad traits define them just as much as their good traits, to be a whole and complete person they have to recognize those bad traits instead of being in denial of them however, both of them choose to only see themselves as heroes.

Anyway, now for something completely different. Let’s talk about batman and the joker. Batman uses Jungian symbolism a lot, of all the heroes he’s the most famous for being a normal person, who dresses in a costume to fight crime specifically in shadowed alleyways, and has a rogues gallery that also consists of mostly normal people in costumes. Batman’s villains are batman. Batman plays with both the relationship between himself and his villains, and also the relatinoship between Bruce and his own Shadow, because his Shadow is part of who he is. 

Now the most iconic batman villain is obviously the joker, and he’s a character like All for One who most of the time is just written as a character who does evil for evil’s sake, but more serious looks at the Joker like The Killing Joke which My Hero Academia directly references make this comparison between the two of them. The famous One Bad Day speech is also, notably, an attempt for Joker to connect to batman, to try to explain himself to him. 

He’s not just spouting a villain speech, he’s also looking for sympathy and trying to give sympathy, because that’s just what humans do. Because deep down, both Batman and the Joker were normal people once. The connection between Batman and the Joker is that they were both normal people, but one of them became a hero, and the other one a villain, and therefore that potential exists in any normal person. 

However, the heroes in MHA still don’t acknowledge their connection to the villains. Hawks and Enji did apologize yes, but what’s also important is their actions after, which is to choose to continue fighting villains as heroes.

It’s been pointed out by Shoto before that what Enji really needs to do to heal his family, is act like a good father, rather than a good hero. However, when given the chance to reach out to his son, he chooses to fight it instead. There’s a reason that the public isn’t reassured by the actions of Hawks, Jeanist and Endeavor and that’s because they continue to keep playing heroes instead of acknowledging what’s wrong. I’m not saying they are good or bad people, both Hawks and Enji have bad sides of their personality that they are almost completely ignorant of. They, like any human being have the potential to be driven to villainy. That’s why Enji can’t reach out to his son, because his brains have still made the connection that he was what drove Toya to villainry. 

It comes across in the casualness which Enji remarks upon what AFO did to Shigaraki and the complete lack of self awareness. Enji did the same thing, he had a child for the sake of passing on his quirk, raised that child to hate all might and want to do anything to surpass him, and he even wanted to live vicariously through the success of Toya and then Shoto so everyone would know him as Endeavor’s son. He still only cares about Toya to the extent that his dreams were once resting on him. 

So when Enji makes the connection to AFO, he asserts that there must be something wrong with him to do all those bad things, because he’s unaware of the resmeblance between his own deeds and AFO’s. He sees himself as a human being with reasons for his bad actions, he didn’t mean to neglect Toya, he didn’t know what to say to him, he was too guilty and hid from his guilt for so long but he doesn’t allow his enemies to have that guilt. This is a pattern that repeats with Hawks, and Jeanist as well, they can’t understand why people like Twice and Dabi would feel like they have a right to be angry at the society that mistreated them. 

Jeanist’s defense is why can’t he just keep quiet about it. 

Twice’s last words were hating Hawks and wishing the worst for him, yet Hawks still thinks they were best friends somehow.

Hawks and Twice were not friends, because Hawks chose not to be his friend, and to hurt what was most precious to Twice which was all of his other friends. Enji chose not to be a father to Toya and not be a father. Enji and Hawks are neither heroes nor villains, they are not good or bad, they’re just humans and as humans they have the potential to be both. 

In only seeing the hatred that Shigaraki was groomed to have they’re also fundamentally misunderstanding him. The thing is Shigaraki has reasons for his hatred, and not just because AFO forced him to feel that way. It’s not just AFO, that’s what they critically misunderstand, it’s Shigaraki’s experiences with how the society around him has neglected both him and his friends.

That’s something that the heroes can never see, because Shigaraki has been assigned the role of a villain who hates society. It’s not just AFO, Shigaraki can’t be at peace with a society that is designed to reject others.

That doesn’t come from his hate either, it comes from his sympathy with the victims. Just like they only see their own good traits, they can only see the villain’s bad traits. The thing is we have witnessed Shigaraki constantly been challenged on the fact that he only has empty hatred, first by Stain, then by Chisaki, and finally be Re-Destro. We also witnessed the moment he changed. 

The conclusion Shigaraki comes to as the result of his arc is that while he himself doesn’t care about the people, he’s not alone anymore, he wants to give the future to the others around him. 

That’s why Shigaraki’s actions aren’t driven just by hatred, but also by a deeply broken sense of empathy. Not only is he a crying child himself, he’s also someone who acknowledges the feelings of others. What converted Spinner from being someone who didn’t particularly care about the goals of the league, and doubted Shigaraki in front of everyone to his most loyal follower. 

It’s because he came to recognize that this human side of Shigaraki was there. The same way that underneath his mask, Spinner was just a pathetic NEET struggling with his own feelings of inadequacy, Shigaraki gets close to broken people, he tries to protect them, he tries to give some kind of validation to their feelings. 

Shigaraki has grown from just hating all of society because it rejected him, to realizing the real reason is because it rejects everyone around him. That means while there’s hatred to his character, there’s also a very selfish and intense love that applies to a small group of people, but the potential for love is still there. Shigaraki reaches out and saves people the same way that Deku does, he tries to do all the fighting himself to protect others just like Deku, it’s just that he’s been hurt again and again and that’s twisted him to act on his worst trait. None of the heroes understand Shigaraki’s love, because they can only see his hate. 

It’s not just that he’s been victimized or that he’s a crying child. Shigaraki is constantly compared to a child both in a negative sense as a man child, and a positive sense as a child pure heartedly pursuing their dream, because there is that potential within Shigarkai, to grow up, and grow into a better person if he was given the same chance to atone that characters like Hawks and Enji have already received. 

Shigaraki and Deku just like batman and the joker both reflect that in perfectly normal people, there’s the chance for great good, or great evil. For Shigaraki there’s an added level of complexity, that you can still grow into a better person, after everyone has written you off as too far gone. You can still grow to love the people around you when you thought you were only capable of hating. 

Enji and Hawks still have the oppurtunity to grow just like that, not as heroes, but as people. 

However to truly grow as people they would have to learn to empathize with the villains, especially because they have done wrong things too, Hawks killed because he had to, Enji hurt his entire family. Defeating the villain really is not the solution, because sometimes you yourself are the villain. 

In order to fully grow as people they have to learn to see themselves as people, and not heroes. That also means admitting the villains are just as human as they are. If Endeavor is someone who can become better after realizing that he made so many mistakes in the past and the only thing he can do about it is try to do better from now on, then Endeavor’s ending point should be realizing that since he was given that chance by his family, others deserve that chance too, especially his own son.  People are not villains, or heroes, Endeavor is just Enji Todoroki and Dabi is Touya Todoroki deep down no matter how they see themselves. 

[vln-vibes]

Of Legends, Fairy Tales and Folklore

AKA A MariBat, Ever After High inspired AU

In the World there are certain stories that are universally known. They're known as Legends or Fairy Tales. Every knew the big stories; The Classics of Grimm Tales - Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Goldilocks and the Three Bears etc etc. They even created a new celebration for such stories; Legacy Day. It was a rare event that everyone wished to see; the day the Stories and Legends pledged to follow their story to the tea, no games, no divergence, a perfect recreation through and through. But there were other Legends that began to emerge like those of the Miraculous; The Miraculous were items blessed by the gods of the universe and they always played out the same stories. The Ladybug and the Black Cat would always retrieve the stolen Butterfly, it was always stolen back from the guardians after. The Ladybug would recruit other heroes to aide in their journey and become the next Guardian. The Ladybug and the Black Cat would get together and live their happily ever after.

However people were often unaware of the Folktales- divergent stories that took a split with each incarnation. They began with the story of Bruce Thomas Wayne, an aristocratic boy who lost those dear to him at a young age. His story should have ended that day, he would live his days reclused in his castle, never to see the light of day... However that was not how his story went. He took his mourning and channeled it to create a new Legend. He became the  Batman, a champion against the evil of the world to ensure no one would be destined for a tragic ending. Then came Richard John Grayson.  The day his world came crashing he was destined to become the Talon, a weapon for the Court of Owls and Gotham’s dirty aristocrats; Bruce saved him from a miserable ending and the story of Robin was born. Batman and Robin became folktales; to show that not everything was set in stone, that there were multiple paths to a single beginning. Jason Peter Todd, Timothy Jackson Drake and Stephanie Brown all took on their own incarnations and versions of Robin; each unique in their own way but maintaining their mission to rid the world of its tragic endings that were deemed to be destiny. Along the way came the tales of Batgirl, Batwoman, Black Bat, Spoiler and Signal.

Damian Wayne-al Ghul was one such spirit who was saved. His destiny was to become the ultimate weapon for his family. A culmination of the greatest of the world. When he was at his perfect state he would become the vessel for the Demon. His destiny would not be kind. The story of Batman and Robin were what brought him hope, the small amount he allowed himself. When he finally left the dreaded compound, he was finally able to see that he didn't have to be a weapon for his grandfather. Thus the story of the Fifth Robin began.

Each person selected to be a Story or a Legend was born with a mark, one which would represent their role in the story. When they reached the age of 10 they would wake up to find a blank book, one which only they could read and could never be lost or destroyed. Marinette Dupain-Cheng did not know what to think when she saw the Ladybug mark over her heart, she ensured no one could see it as she knew it would be important for later in her life. The book that appeared when she was ten told her snippets of her story, she could never know too much lest she face unforeseen consequences. 

 "The young Ladybug was loved by all.... Ladybug knew what this moment meant, after all she knew since she was a little girl... The Ladybug and the Black Cat were loved by all, regarded as the best in history... She was abandoned by her friends, all quick to leave her for the next big thing... Ladybug knew she could not deny destiny... Ladybug fell for ..." 

 Marinette did her best to be a good friend, always accommodating, always compassionate and always willing to help her friends.... She never wanted to lose them. When she met Adrien Agreste she thought something clicked, as though he was her destiny to meet. She had felt the same when she met Chloe, Kim, Alix, Max, Nathaniel,(maybe Nino) but something felt different, something she could not place her finger on. The day she found a small black box in her bedroom she knew what it meant, after all she had known since she was a little girl. The day she met the small Kwami she could not help but think that she was hiding something, her eyes looked saddened before smiling and introducing herself.

As soon as Ladybug made an appearance on the rooftops along with Chat Noir everyone was talking about Legacy Day. The Parisians couldn't help but see when their Ladybug would finally announce their Legacy day. Everyone wanted their favorite heroes to get a reassure Happily Ever After.

The Folktales or Justice League , honestly they had no idea who came up with the name, did not know how much progress Ladybug's story had made. "No one truly knows how different each story of the Ladybug is" Diana, the Princess of Thymescara, and current Wonder Woman explained to Batman and Superman, a new folktale with unprecedented beginning, "My mother was once Ladybug, but to be the Ladybug there is always a price. Each and every one is cursed with a robbed happily ever after, a fact many ignore. My mother, after retrieving the Butterfly, was betrayed by her Black Cat; he wanted my mother to be his happily ever after, when she refused he murdered her, its how she was chosen to be Queen of Thymescara by the goddesses. Jeanne d'Arc was burned at the steak for refusing to sign the Storybook of Legends, they accused her of being a witch and of terrible crimes, that she had deceived them and was not the true Ladybug. Even those that signed did not live happy lives after the story was done... I can't help but want to save this Ladybug from the same ending" 

 Adrien Agreste was always told he was born for greatness. His mother and aunt said so the moment his cat mark came out. They wondered which tale would be his or if he and Felix would play their tale; The Twin Rings. He knew he would be getting his happily ever after so he put up with his father's ridiculous standards, the overbearing work and overly sheltered life. Someday, he knew, he would get to see the real world, make friends, he'd get his happily ever after. The moment he met Ladybug he knew it was heading for the right direction. Meanwhile Plagg is sure that Adrien is a cat but not his Black Cat. He of course can't really do anything about it and ever since his mother passed, Adrien's father locked up all their Books. Because Adrien technically knows they're in his father's safe its not considered lost so it can't reappear to him; he has no clue about his story but he thinks it’ll all play out in the end. Ladybug liked Chat Noir but she did not want him to be her happily ever after... she was beginning to doubt if she would even get one. The more time she spent as Ladybug, the greater her magic and her ability to read the past tales of Ladybug. They all began so grand and courageous but... the closer they got to the ending the more tragic she began to find them. Even those that signed the storybook of legend would eventually fail to protect the butterfly, thus the cycle continued. Tikki does eventually confess about the thing with Ladybugs and Marinette isn't surprised, its actually something all Ladybugs end up realizing and just strive forward with it. A few did try to change the story but by that point it was too late; Tikki has hope Marinette still has time to change or decide to stick with the story. With the introduction of "Lila Rossi", the supposed granddaughter of the one Pied Piper of Hamlet and Ermellina, not to mention she was destined Fox of the Miraculous; the Ladybug began to feel her friends move away... they no longer needed her. Or that was what she believed. As it turned out her classmates who had their own Book and story were aware of a wolf in sheep’s clothing who would try to destroy their stories. Many chose to play along with her, to see how it was possible for her to change stories while other stood firmly on their ground and had unknowingly allied themselves to the Ladybug, the test for their own stories.  What they don’t realize is that Lila's actually a Page Ripper, like a dream-eater except for stories, she lives off of or just enjoys destroying stories because she knows hers will end with her being stuck with a terrible ending, in her opinion. She refuses to realize that she only get the terrible ending because she began to destroy other stories.When she saw Marinette she recognized her as definite main character for a Story and began her vendetta against her At this point she already has Ryuuko, Viperion and Queen Bee as her permanent holders, she made a mistake of choosing Alya as the Fox (one her book warned about, and now Alya thinks its supposed to be for Lila.) In reality she has no clue who or if there is even a person who was meant to be the Fox in this version of the story or if she's just supposed to give it to whoever she deems worthy. The Kwami tell her not to worry about it and just choose allies she is sure about. She does eventually recruit other temporary holders but she’s unsure if she could trust them after Rena Rouge.  Everything began to change once more when they ventured to Gotham, the city of Folktales as it was home to the Batman. Their class had been enraptured by the newest story Lila had come up with, about convincing a story to finally follow their destiny and sign their storybook of legends, when she was called out for the fact that it was not her call to make... No one had to follow any so call destiny or story. "Do you not understand! Without the stories the world will fall apart!" she had yelled out 

"And I believe you have no clue where you are. Here, no one has to follow their stories, everyone is free to make their own decisions and create their own version of their story" "And how would you know!" some angry yells began before he took out a book, it was a deep emerald green, easily mistaken for black at a glance, with golden details and cuffs, at the center was a ruby gem, in cursive the spine said 'Damian Wayne' where it once said Ibn al Xu'ffasch That was how the young Ladybug was introduced to the concept of Folktales and met the young Robin. 

 Selina Kyle, the Catwoman, knows that she at some point gains a protege but it should have happened some time ago (around the time one of her old friend’s passed away), she's not sure how she feels about that.  Marinette isn’t sure if she want to sign the Storybook of Legends, truly no one on her team is, but the Parisians are getting persistent. Even city officials are breathing down her neck and she can’t help but think of Jeanne.

Damian's story of Robin begins to transition into a weird mix about becoming a cat of some sort and of breaking a curse.

All anyone is sure of is that

The End is just the Beginning

[huilian]

Statera

AO3

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne

Summary:  Moments in time, where Damian discovered who Dick Grayson is

A/N:  i finally finished this! i had to rewrite this like, four times because i keep losing my draft. oh well.... thanks to @caramelmachete for beta-ing this fic!!!! hope you enjoy it!

***

Damian always loved tinkering with something. Being able to build his own technologies showed that he had enough skill to do so, so Mother did not discourage it. Sometimes she even brought Damian things to tinker with. 

It was also one of the only activities approved by Mother that was fun. 

There was one rule that Damian knew, however. One rule that has been drilled into him ever since he could remember. Mother’s permission is critical. There was nothing that Damian did that was not pre-approved by his Mother. If he breaks that rule, well, there are only two options. One, Damian was commended for his extraordinary thinking. Two, he was punished because what he did was not acceptable to Mother. 

Mother may approve of his tinkering, but Damian did not live with Mother anymore.

It was almost involuntary. When he drove the Batmobile, the mechanics of the car astounded him. It was years beyond all the vehicles that the League possesses. After Pennyworth repaired it after a crash, it stood there, almost inviting Damian to tinker with it. Damian had been almost helpless to its call. 

He really should have known better. Mother would never tolerate this kind of behavior. Damian was getting reckless by being in Gotham. 

Damian had opened up the Batmobile while Grayson was at work. He had planned on only opening it up and closing it again, just a peek on the pinnacle of engineering that is the Batmobile. But then Damian started thinking about ways to improve the already impressive car. To make it more efficient would require tools and understanding of physics that Damian did not yet possess. To make it more aerodynamic would threaten its structural integrity. To make it more powerful would also require tools and understanding of physics that Damian did not yet possess. 

Oh! Father had a blueprint for making the car fly, hadn’t he? Damian remembered seeing it somewhere in the cave. He had been entranced with it, before. A car, flying! It was almost surreal, had Damian not known that Father was capable of making that a reality. 

A simple search on the computer yielded the blueprints for making the Batmobile fly. After that, Damian could not resist the call. There were the blueprints and the tools, and the car that Damian could make better than it was before. 

When Damian realized that Grayson was standing behind him, he panicked. The Batmobile was still stripped down to its parts, and Damian was standing in the middle of it all. Damian had forgotten the one rule he had grown up with. Never do anything without Mother’s permission. Except now, with him being in Gotham and with Father being… gone, it was Grayson’s permission he should have sought. 

This Batmobile was the one Father had used before. Grayson might not wish for anything in it to be modified. Damian did not know whether Grayson approved of him tinkering or not. 

Damian froze. He decided that he would not cry. He was an al Ghul and a Wayne and Robin to boot. He would not cry. No matter what happens, Damian would bear the punishments Grayson deemed appropriate, and he would not cry. 

Grayson did not seem mad. He seemed to be regarding Damian’s work intently, taking the piece that Damian had finished and viewing it from different angles. Throughout it all, Grayson made no sound. Damian did not know if it was something Grayson just did, or if Damian was slacking in observing his environment. He did not hear Grayson come into the Cave, after all. 

(With Mother, not noticing her presence would have merited him another punishment on top of the one he would have got for acting without permission.)

What if Grayson found his work subpar? That would merit another punishment. If Damian had dared disobey Mother, he better make sure that what he did is satisfactory, at the very least. If he did this with Mother, and his work with the vehicle was subpar, it would have been inexcusable. 

Mother would have given him so much more training. Mother preferred to punish Damian by lessons, experiences Damian would dislike but was still ultimately useful. Grandfather was fond of physical pain. Damian did not know what punishment was by Grayson’s standards, but whatever it was, he would get himself through it. He always did. 

“Did you do this?” Grayson signed. 

“Yes,” Damian said. He really should stop here, but he continued. “Flight would have been very useful in combat situations, Grayson. Why has it not been implemented into the Batmobile? Father must have…” 

“Stop.” A chopping movement from Grayson’s hand. Damian could not contain his flinch. It seemed that his rambling had not been appreciated by Grayson. 

(Damian would not cry. He would not.) 

Grayson saw the flinch. He must have. But instead of getting even angrier, Grayson relaxed his entire body. Damian did not understand.

Grayson signed something that Pennyworth told him was his name. It used to irritate him, to have a name given to him by this ingrate of a circus brat, of a failed Talon, but now it brought him comfort. If Grayson was still signing his name and not fingerspelling it, he was not angry. Damian had learned that distinction early on. The first sign that Grayson is angry at someone is when he fingerspelled their name. 

“This is amazing.” Grayson smiled. 

“Really?” 

Grayson nodded. “Are you using Bruce’s blueprints?”

“Yes. I adapted some of it to better improve the car’s maneuverability, but Father’s blueprints are serving as my base.” 

Grayson walked over to the bench that held the blueprints while Damian worked. “Are you making adjustments for the exhaust system? I don’t think this exhaust system can handle all the additions you put up.”

No, Damian had not. He hadn’t reached that part yet, hadn’t considered the exhaust system yet. He was too focused on maneuverability that he forgot that adding power would also require adapting the exhaust system to work better. “I…,” Damian considered lying. It would not work. “No. Not yet.” 

Damian waited for the punishment. He’s failing again, failing to consider all angles. Amateur mistake. He was too excited to work on maneuverability that he forgot about everything else. 

Damian had accumulated punishment after punishment in just the short time he was here, but why wouldn’t Grayson do anything about it? Was he waiting, luring Damian to a sense of security only to then burn that sense of security? 

Grayson lifted his hands. Damian braced for a hit. 

The hit never came. 

Instead, Grayson signed something that Damian didn’t recognize. Grayson must have sensed Damian’s confusion, because he then spelled, “T-O-R-Q-U-E-W-R-E-N-C-H,” then he repeated the sign that Damian did not recognize before. 

Grayson thought that Damian was confused about the sign. He was, but that was not what Damian was truly confused about. Grayson waited for a moment, then repeated the spelling, slower this time. 

That brought Damian out of his confusion. Grayson was asking for a torque wrench? Was he going to join Damian in working with the Batmobile? 

“I understood what you said, Grayson,” Damian said. He almost blurted out what he truly wanted to say, but he reined himself in at the last moment. If Grayson wasn’t going to punish him yet, Damian was not going to ask for it and risk making it worse. Of course, Grayson could be testing Damian, testing how much failure could Damian recognize before he knew he had to be punished, but Damian could not see the man being as cruel as that. 

Grayson waited with his hands outstretched. Oh. He was still waiting for the torque wrench. Damian gave it to him, and then returned to what he himself was doing. If Grayson wished to work on the Batmobile too, who was Damian to question it. 

They worked for a while, together, but separately -- Damian with his maneuvering system and Grayson with his exhaust system -- until suddenly, Grayson asked, “Do you think you can finish this before we move to the Bunker?”

Grayson had spoken to Damian about that a couple days prior. Apparently they were moving their base of operations to the Wayne Tower, at the center of the city proper. It was a strategic move. Moving to the Wayne Tower would mean less time in transport, but Damian suspected there were other reasons that caused Grayson to move. Father worked from this Cave for years, after all. Damian did not ask, because contrary to popular belief, he did possess a modicum of propriety. “Yes. I think I could,” Damian said. It was a challenge, even if it was phased as a question. Damian would rise above all challenges Grayson could give him, and it would prove to Grayson that Damian was the best. 

Grayson just smiled. “Good. Now come on, let’s go shower. We stink.” He then put the tools he had been using back to the toolbox, wiped his hands, and ruffled Damian’s hair. 

Damian could agree with taking a shower. He had, after all, spent almost the whole day tinkering with the Batmobile, and his clothes were stained with sweat, grease, and other unidentifiable things. He could not agree with the hair ruffling. “What was that for, Grayson?” Damian demanded. 

Grayson just laughed his way to the showers. 

*

After the showers, Damian couldn’t take it anymore. He had racked up enough failures throughout the day to warrant punishment, surely. Mother would have made sure of that. The combination of exhaustion after a day of working at the Batmobile and the sense of calmness that came after a shower made Damian’s mind to mouth filter off enough that he actually asked, “Are you going to punish me?”

Damian regretted the words as soon as they were out. Grayson, still putting on clothes after his own shower, froze. The calm, almost relaxed atmosphere tensed immediately. 

Grayson turned around slowly. Very slowly. Damian, for the third time today, braced for a hit. And for the third time today, the hit did not come. 

Grayson walked towards Damian, still moving very slowly. He stopped, then crouched down, also still moving slowly. Damian could not look at him, but he also could not take it anymore. The..., the carefulness of Grayson’s movement. But maybe this was punishment in and of itself. Keeping Damian on his toes, forcing him to be hyper-aware of all his actions. “Well?” Damian asked again, after Grayson had crouched in front of him. Damian kept his eyes trained on his feet. “Are you going to punish me?” 

Grayson signed something. Damian could not see what it was. Damian did not want to see what it was. 

A sigh escaped Grayson. A hand gently lifting Damian’s chin, coaxing him to look up. Damian was used to people forcing him to do something he did not want to. Normally he could outlast them by sheer stubbornness, no matter how rough they were to him. But somehow, this gentle touch from Grayson unraveled him thoroughly, because Damian let his gaze be pulled towards Grayson. 

Once Damian looked at Grayson however, Damian knew. Grayson understood. Grayson understood what Damian meant. Grayson had lived it himself. 

It was not by Father’s hands. Damian knew that much before Father had… gone. But now that Damian knew Grayson understood, his refusal to punish Damian perplexed Damian even more. Didn’t the man know what sort of results that system produced? 

“That will not happen here, Damian,” Grayson signed. “Whatever you think you deserve to be punished for, it doesn’t work that way here.” 

“So there will be no punishment? For anything? What sort of operations are you building, Grayson?” Damian knew he shouldn’t push. Damian knew he should be thankful that there would be no punishment today, and left it at that. But he can’t. Grayson was very confusing. He knew the system, and he knew that the system works, but he’s saying that it was not like that here? Damian needs to know. 

“We’ll have a very long conversation about what sorts of things will get you punished, and what kinds of punishment those actions entails. But whatever you were thinking before, Damian?” Grayson’s eyes clouded. That look again. The look that tells Damian Grayson understood. “That will not happen here.” 

And despite everything, Damian believed him. 

***

Damian was silent while stripping off his costume. He might have put on his usual chatter when riding back from that confrontation with the damned Pyg, but here, now, in the relative safety of the Bunker, Damian found himself unable to keep his shield up. He had failed, before. He had promised a girl and then failed to deliver on that promise. 

Would Grayson also fail to keep his promise of not punishing him? 

Grayson said the girl must have gotten out. Damian didn’t truly fail, then, because the girl managed to get out of that place. But Damian had promised the girl that he would get her out, and he simply left her to fight Pyg. A fight that he needed Grayson’s help to finish. 

What did that say about him? He had given his word that he will not kill anymore, but then he also failed in protecting people. What good was he now?

A touch on his shoulders. Damian looked up, startled, only to find Grayson’s concerned face hovering near him. “Are you alright?” 

Was he alright? Before he could think about it more, however, old instincts came out, and he gritted out, “Yes.” 

Grayson simply looked at him. What was it about that look that made Damian so helpless? Grayson didn’t even look threatening. 

“No,” Damian eventually said. There was no point in answering otherwise. Grayson would know. Grayson always knows. 

“It’s about the girl, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“No.” 

Grayson smiled. “Will I get something other than monosyllabic answers out of you tonight?” The movement was light, but there was an undercurrent of … something in Grayson’s smile. 

Damian considered answering in a full sentence, just to annoy Grayson, but he really didn’t feel like doing so. The fight had taken more out of him than he thought. “No,” he finally answered. 

“Can I say something anyways?” 

Damian wanted to say no. He wanted to storm off and reject Grayson’s attempts at… something. Instead, what actually came out of his mouth was, “Fine.” 

Grayson’s face turned kind. Was that right? Yes. It was kindness, Damian was sure of it. 

“Sometimes we can’t save everyone, Damian. You have to learn to live with that. Even,” and here Grayson does a sign he can’t recognize, “can’t save everyone.” 

“I know that!” Damian almost shouted out. 

Grayson ignored him. “I know how you’re feeling right now. I wish I could say it gets easier, but it doesn’t. So you learn to live with it. And you try to do better next time. She got out, remember?” 

“I know that!” If the first one was shouted out angrily, then this one was choked out. He should be better than this. He’s Robin. 

This time Grayson stopped. “Then why are you so angry?” 

“Because I promised her I would get her out!” The tears almost came out, but Damian pushed it down. He’s Damian Wayne, he’s an al Ghul, he’s the heir to the Demon, he’s Robin. He would not cry over this stupid mistake. 

Grayson seemed to think otherwise. He pulled Damian close, hugged him, even, and stayed there. Eventually, as hard as Damian tried not to, the tears fell out. “I … promised her… I would get her out!” Damian said between gasps of breath. “And then… I didn’t. What did that ... say about me… Grayson?” 

Grayson pulled apart. Damian knew that he did that because Damian needed to see him to be able to understand what he’s saying, but it still felt like a loss. 

“It says that you’re a hero, Damian. Because even in the middle of everything, you still thought about getting her out. That makes you a hero, okay?” 

Damian wanted to believe Grayson’s words so much, he did. He couldn’t quite believe that though. Damian nodded anyways. 

“Grayson?” Damian said. The man hummed his acknowledgement. “What does this,” he repeated the sign he didn’t recognize before, “mean?” 

Grayson smiled at him, more real this time than the one before. He spelled out, “S-U-P-E-R-M-A-N.”

“Ah. The alien Father was so fond of.” 

“Yeah, kiddo.” 

“... Do you really mean that? What you said earlier?”

“I meant every word of it, Damian.” 

***

It was a day like any other. Grayson went to what could charitably be called work, while Damian was left at the Penthouse to do what could charitably be called schoolwork. Then, Grayson returned, and they came down to the Bunker to suit up for patrol. 

After patrol ended (much too early for Damian’s tastes), they were supposed to be training. It was an acceptable routine for Damian. School, patrol, then training. But strangely, that night, Grayson did not lead Damian to any of the training facilities, from the sparring ring to the computer where Grayson usually ran simulations for Damian to solve. No. Grayson led Damian into a room full of… was that trapeze equipment? How had Damian missed an entire room of trapeze equipment? 

Grayson was, for lack of better word, jittery next to him. He gave Damian a smile so wide it should have been fake (somehow, when it was Grayson who did it, it was as true as the sun), and then signed, “I thought you might want to try this? Learn trapeze, I mean.”

This was a test. Of course. How foolish Damian was, thinking that the tests ended when he had left Mother’s doorstep. Grayson might have promised no punishment, but he did not promise no tests. Batman and Robin were the best, and so Damian would have to be the best too. That was the only reasonable explanation. Nobody asked Damian if he wanted to learn something. They simply gave the information to him and expected him to learn it. To excel in it. Mother did. Grandfather did. Father did. 

So this was a test. It has to be. Only Damian could not figure out what was going to be tested. Was this about Damian’s ability to learn new things? Was this about his knowledge of Grayson? Was this about his focus on the mission? 

If this was Mother, Damian would refuse. Trapeze has nothing to do with the mission. Acrobatics are very useful on the field, it allows Damian to move unhindered, but trapeze is another thing entirely. Damian could see no use of it in his mission to be Batman. 

With that, Damian has decided, and he said, “No.” 

Grayson’s smile faded in an instant. It left only hollow eyes, nothing like Damian had seen before. All the energy that always seemed to be buzzing underneath Grayson’s skin disappeared. 

“Okay,” Grayson signed. Only that. Then he went out of the room. 

Has Damian miscalculated? No. Impossible. He did what Robin, what Batman was supposed to do. Focus on the mission. If Grayson forgot about that, it was none of his business. 

*

It was Pennyworth who came to Damian in his room, hours later. That seemed significant, but Damian could not figure out why. 

“Master Damian. May I have a word?” 

Damian scoffed. “Even if I say you may not, you will say it anyway, Pennyworth.” He would. Damian had learned that much throughout his stay with the man. The question was asked out of politeness than an actual question. 

Pennyworth nodded. “That is wise, Master Damian.” 

“Well?” 

“I believe that today Master Dick offered to teach you the trapeze. And I also believe that you refused that offer.” 

Was this another test? Was Grayson not satisfied with the previous one, that he sent Pennyworth here to test him again? 

“What is the matter with that, Pennyworth?” Damian finally asked. 

Pennyworth sighed. “Master Dick had gone through a … difficult childhood, shall we say. You know that. The trapeze is one of the few things that the Court did not take away from him. It was one of the last things he had from his time with his parents.” 

Damian stood up. “I know that, Pennyworth! Get to the point!” Damian felt a chill through his body. He did know that. Grayson and Pennyworth had said all of that already. What was the matter? Why did both Grayson and Pennyworth make such a big deal over it? 

“That was not all, Master Damian. Please, sit back down.” 

The butler’s tone was kind enough, but Damian knew it broke no argument. Pennyworth waited until Damian had sat back down, then continued. “Teaching the trapeze is how Master Dick connects his new family with his old one. He taught it at some point to every single person he considered family. Master Bruce, Miss Barbara, Master Jason, Master Tim, Miss Cassandra, myself, and his closest friends.” 

Oh. Oh. 

“Teaching you the trapeze is his way of showing you that he considers you family.” 

Damian had miscalculated. Badly. 

“Are you certain of this, Pennyworth?” 

“Yes, Master Damian. I am quite certain.” 

Damian looked down to his lap for a moment, then looked back up to Pennyworth. He had to fix this. If trapeze was Grayson’s way of showing Damian that they are family, then, earlier that night, Damian had just blatantly rejected Grayson’s offer of becoming family. 

Months ago, Damian couldn’t care less. He was not there to become family to the other children of his father. He was there to succeed Father. Nothing more, nothing less. But now, well, now Grayson has somehow made Damian care about him. 

Damian had to fix this. Fast. 

“How do I fix this, Pennyworth?” 

“Well, Master Damian,” Damian could almost hear the smile in the butler’s words, even if Pennyworth would never do such a mundane thing as smile, “I believe you should ask to be taught.” 

*

Damian found Grayson working. Of course. He would not expect any less. 

Damian had to play this right. He had already offended Grayson by dismissing his offer of family. He would not offend Grayson furthermore by being callous about this. 

“Grayson?” Damian finally settled on asking. He would base his next actions on Grayson’s reactions. 

(If Grayson did not react… No. Grayson will react.) 

Grayson did not turn to meet Damian, as he always did before. But he stopped typing, at the very least. It was something. 

“I…” Who knew that this could be so hard? It was not as if the next words out of his mouth might push Grayson away forever. “I have reconsidered your offer. I would like to learn the trapeze, if you are still willing to teach it to me.” 

That got Grayson to turn towards Damian. The smile was still missing, but at least Grayson’s eyes were not hollow. Progress. 

“Do you want to learn?” Grayson asked. 

Without hesitation, Damian said, “Yes.” 

The answer brought a smile to Grayson’s face. Small, yes, but it was a start. 

*

“Who ratted me out? Alfred?” Grayson asked, after they had geared up and climbed the trapeze rig. 

“Nobody ratted anything to me, Grayson. Are you losing your mind?” 

Grayson snorted. “Nah. Just trying to distract you from this.” 

“Distract me from what?” 

A smile. Then the bastard pushed Damian down from the platform. He had made sure that Damian was grasping the bar properly, but still. The bastard pushed Damian down from the platform. Alone. 

If Damian was laughing all the way down, well, that was between him and Grayson only, wasn’t it? 

(Besides, he was not just laughing all the way down. He laughed throughout the whole lesson, and even more after that. Damian could not recall when he last laughed that much, if that occasion even existed. The experience was something Damian would not balk at experiencing again.) 

***

Sometimes, when the city wasn’t as chaotic as it could have been, when it seemed that they could actually have a handle on the situation, Grayson and Damian could spend hours just being in Grayson’s room. It was not often. More often than not, Grayson would be too busy from being Batman and all that entails from that and trying to get a handle on Hush and the Wayne Enterprises, to be able to take a few minutes off of his day. More often than not, Damian would be too proud to seek comfort from this man who claimed to be his brother. So these moments, where Grayson and Damian could just be, were rare. And Damian treasured every single second of it. 

In the rare occurrence when Grayson actually finished everything he meant to do that day, he would lay down on his bed, tired from all his responsibilities. When Damian could swallow his pride enough, he would join him. (Sometimes Damian wouldn’t not because he was too proud to do so, but because he was afraid that the mere sight of him would remind Grayson of the abundance of responsibilities he had now. After all, Damian knew very well that he was one of those responsibilities Grayson had taken upon his shoulders when Father had.. gone.) 

In those moments, Damian felt safe. 

How absurd was it, that he felt safe with a broken man, when he could not feel safe in the company of his own mother and grandfather? How absurd was it, that he felt safer inside this admittedly secure room than inside one of his mother’s compounds, where every single person there was sworn to protect him? How absurd was that? 

Damian usually slept in those moments. He was never a deep sleeper. His training with the League had made him aware even in sleep. Being left, alone, in an unfamiliar country with unfamiliar people had not done any favors for his sleep. But with Grayson, in those moments, the infamous Canary could unleash her cry inside the room and Damian wouldn’t have woken up. 

He knew he was safe. Grayson himself never slept. As tired as he was, whenever Damian joined him in his bed, Grayson always kept himself awake. He rarely even moved. The only way to describe it was that Grayson kept watch. It perplexed Damian. He could take care of himself. But Grayson always, always kept watch in those moments. It was as if he knew that Damian couldn’t completely relax if there was no one keeping watch. And so Grayson kept watch. Like a bird. 

Like an owl. 

(If pressed, Damian would admit that the reason he felt safe with Grayson was that he knew that Grayson would never hurt him. Not intentionally, anyways. He made that promise months ago. Damian kept waiting for Grayson to break that promise, to hurt him anyways, but he never did. Damian allowed himself to believe that Grayson was telling the truth.

Damian knew perfectly well that Grayson was able to hurt him in other, unintentional ways. His promise could only extend so far. Damian knew that. Mother made sure that Damian knew that. Sometimes Damian cared. Sometimes he didn’t.) 

***

Every breath was painful. Damian knew it could have been worse. The bullet could have pierced his uniform, and then instead of just cracked ribs, Damian could have a collapsing lung. But it was hard to feel grateful when every breath felt like fire. 

He should have seen the bullet coming. He should have dodged that bullet. He should have forced himself to fight through the pain and help Grayson anyways. But it had been too long since Damian had to fight through this much pain. Sloppy. Weak. 

And so, after he incapacitated the man who shot him, Damian could only sit down in the alley, just watching Grayson fight. He should be helping Grayson, instead of just sitting like some helpless child. It was not the first time he had been shot. The bullet didn’t even pierce his skin. 

Weak. 

Damian could hear the sounds of the fight winding down. It seemed Grayson finished it shortly after Damian was shot. Good. Damian didn’t want to have to stand up and fight again. 

Weak. 

A hand touched Damian’s face. He looked up to see the emotionless cowl staring down at him. Was Grayson mad? Would he be punished for letting himself get shot? 

No. Grayson had promised. Months ago. He hadn’t broken that promise. Yet. What if this was the time he broke it? 

Grayson made the field sign for hurt. Damian nodded, not wanting to speak when just breathing already hurt. 

Would Grayson force him to continue patrolling through the pain? Damian could do it, but he didn’t want to. It had been so long since he had to continue being functional even through the pain. He didn’t want to. 

Damian waited for the order to stand up, to continue anyway, to brush off the pain, but it didn’t come. Instead, Grayson called the Batmobile. He lifted Damian, so very gently, but it still jostled Damian’s ribs. Damian hissed in pain. 

Grayson mouthed, “Sorry.” Why wasn’t he signing? Oh. Both his hands were full with Damian. Damian tried to stand up, only for Grayson to adjust his grip so that Damian couldn’t. 

Okay then. Damian let himself be carried by his older brother. It was safe, those hands. He didn’t even realize when Grayson gently strapped him inside the Batmobile. 

*

Damian woke up to the sound of Grayson pacing. Grayson must have been very worked up. Normally, Damian wouldn’t even be able to hear Grayson moving, much less be woken up by it.

“Sorry,” Grayson smiled sheepishly. “I’ll be quiet.”

“It’s fine, Grayson,” Damian said. “I’m up anyways.” 

“Are you feeling okay?” 

“No, I was shot,” Damian said. He meant it to be sarcastic, because getting shot is basically an occupational hazard at this point. Besides, Grayson knew about his training at the League. A shot that didn’t even pierce the skin was not worth mentioning. 

Grayson apparently missed that memo, because he started to sign frantically. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t good enough. I’m so sorry, Damian.” 

Damian frowned. “I was joking, Grayson. It’s fine. It’s just a few cracked ribs.” 

“Bruised.” 

Ah. It wasn’t as bad as Damian thought. It made his inability to keep fighting much more shameful, though, because bruised ribs were not even worthy of a mention back at the League. “See? It’s fine. Bruised ribs are practically nothing.” 

“You were shot, Damian.” 

“And it didn’t go through. I’m fine, Grayson.” 

“It was so close to your,” and here Grayson signed his name.

“It was close to me? I don’t understand, Grayson. I was shot, yes.” 

Grayson froze. His face did a complicated thing before going blank, something Damian now knew meant that he was pushing his emotions away for later. It would have been admirable at the League, but why did Damian hate it now, when it was Grayson who did it? 

“H-E-A-R-T.” 

“Pardon?” It couldn’t be. Damian must have seen it wrong. 

“It was so close to your H-E-A-R-T.” After he spelled it, Grayson signed Damian’s name again. Only it couldn’t be, because that sign meant heart. So it couldn’t be Damian’s name, because, because. 

Grayson named Damian ‘heart’. 

“What?” 

“Do you want me to change it?” Grayson looked away. His face was still blank, but his eyes were sad. 

Heart. Grayson named Damian ‘heart.’ Was this why it was always Pennyworth who explained his injuries to him? Did Grayson not want Damian to know what his name meant? 

“D-A-M-I-A-N,” Grayson spelled out his name. Was he angry? He only ever spelled out Damian’s name when he was angry. Only, the usual sign for his name apparently meant heart. And Grayson was… “Do you want me to change it?” 

Did Damian want Grayson to change the name? He should, anyone who knows ASL would instantly know about Grayson’s weak spot. He didn’t even want to be Grayson’s weak spot. 

But he found himself not wanting to. He wanted the name. So he said, “No.” 

The smile that adorned Grayson’s face made the entire fiasco worth it. 

***

After he and Grayson had stormed into Mother’s base, Damian stood next to Grayson back in the bunker as he typed reports into the Batcomputer. 

Damian waited for Grayson to start the conversation, but nothing seemed to be coming from him, so Damian had to start then. “Why me?” he asked. “You could have had Drake be your Robin. He was practically begging for it.” 

Grayson hummed. 

“Grayson. Why me?” 

Grayson finally looked away from the report he had been typing. “Because you’re you,” he signed. 

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re you, Damian.”

“So?”

Grayson sighed. He turned his chair around, facing Damian. “You need Robin. And I need you.” Grayson shrugged. “That’s all there is.”

“No,” Damian shook his head, “that can’t be it. Drake could have been Robin.” Damian remembered all too well the sensation of his body moving without his control. Of his body moving to hurt Grayson. All because he had been returned to Mother after he was shot during that altercation with Red Hood and Scarlet. Mother, never the one to throw away opportunities, had planted a machine in Damian’s spine and used it to control Damian’s actions. After all, it was why they had stormed her base in the first place. “Maybe better. He wouldn’t have allowed himself to get shot. He was right about Father, after all.” 

Damian forced himself to look at Grayson. To face whatever judgment Grayson would give him without flinching. He had failed, after all. He had allowed himself to be shot. It was his fault that Mother was able to make a tool of his body. 

Grayson put his hand on Damian’s cheek. Damian steeled himself for the worst. At the very least, his actions merited a slap from those hands. (Those hands that had cared for him much more than anyone else in this world, Mother included. Grayson had promised, way back in the beginning, that he would never punish Damian like that. Grayson had never broken that promise before. Damian kept waiting for him to break it.). 

At worst, this was the last act of kindness Grayson would ever give him. 

The slap did not come. Grayson’s hand retreated, causing Damian to follow it before he remembered himself. He would not give Grayson even more things to be disappointed in.

“Being Robin saved me.” The hand was only retreated to sign with, not because of anything Damian had done. Damian suppressed a sigh of relief. “I hoped it would save you too.”

“But why?” Damian couldn’t stop himself from asking. He knew he should stop, before he gave Grayson even more reasons to throw him out. He had cut ties with Mother earlier today. He did not need Grayson, the only person left who cared for him, to throw him out too. But he needed to know. “It would have been easier with him. You did not have to train him anymore. He knows you, have been your Robin before. You told me that. Why me?” 

“Tim needed to be his own hero. I can’t be his Batman.”

“Bullshit. You can. He was ready to let you be his Batman. Even if that’s true, you didn’t have to take me in. You didn’t have to make me Robin. Why, Grayson?” 

This was it. Grayson was finally going to realize that Damian is a failure and he was going to kick Damian out. Damian felt his spine, the spine that Mother had implanted machines on, stiffen. 

“Because you’re you, Damian,” Grayson signed.

Damian did not understand. What kind of answer was that? Taking someone in, training them, caring for them, simply because they are themselves? Damian knew he was not an easy nor agreeable child. Damian knew that by keeping him, Grayson had sacrificed so much. But he still did it, because, because Damian was … Damian? 

“I don’t understand,” Damian said. 

“Maybe it’s because you’re Bruce’s son. Maybe it’s because you don’t have anywhere else to go. Letting you go back to Talia was not an option, as you know now.” A twist of displeasure on Grayson’s lips. Some misplaced sense of charity then, or a sense of obligation to Father. Damian could work with that. He was about to say that he did not need charity when Grayson continued. “Maybe it’s because I saw myself in you.”

Oh. Damian stopped. That was unexpected. 

If Grayson had said it a few months earlier, Damian would have raged. How dare he equate Damian’s own superior upbringing with his time with the Court of Owls? But now, after what Mother had done, Damian was starting to doubt about the so-called superiority of his upbringing. After all, if Mother could implant that machine into Damian’s spine, was she any better than the Court? Not to mention the clone of himself that Mother was making. 

His destiny, Mother had said. But it was not his destiny, was it? It was the destiny Mother had wanted for him. As if Damian was nothing but a pawn to be played with in her plans. 

Grayson had a destiny too, from the Court of Owls. Damian knew that. Mother had played with him like the Court of Owls had played with Grayson. 

Grayson smiled sadly at Damian. Damian could see from his face that Grayson knew Damian had understood what he meant. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Grayson signed. 

Grayson had rejected the Court. By being Robin, by being Nightwing, and now, by being Batman. From what Damian knew about the Court of Owls, it should not have been possible for a Talon to live in defiance of the Court. Except Grayson escaped. Except Grayson was courtless, and he was here. 

Damian was born, no, he was made, designed to be an assassin. He was designed to fulfill Mother’s plans, and so he was designed to thrive within the League of Assassins. Mother had made that abundantly clear with the clone she was making. Months in Gotham, under Grayson’s tutelage, had shown Damian how ill-suited he was to live outside the League. Except, hours earlier, Damian had stood in front of his mother, and rejected her. Rejected the League. An enemy of the House of al Ghul, Mother had said. 

What would he be, without the League behind him? There had never been a member of the League that left. They were all killed immediately. Damian was the first person to leave the League without being killed where he stands. It was uncharted territory, now. 

But was it, really? There’s Grayson in front of him. It was not uncharted territory as long as Grayson was there. Grayson would help him. 

So Damian nodded, and said, “Yes. We’re quite the pair.” 

A courtless talon, and a leagueless assassin. Two things that should never have existed in the first place. 

Batman and Robin. 

***

“You want to return to Nightwing.” 

Grayson, still with the damned bandage on his head, turned around to meet Damian. He had his smile on. Damian didn’t like that. 

“You were ready to… to throw away Batman just like that!” Grayson still had his smile on. Damian wanted to wash that smile off his face. “What about us?” 

“I didn’t, though. I’m still Batman.” 

“Only because Father had that Batman Incorporated idea,” Damian refused to be calmed down so quickly. “You would have, wouldn’t you? Give Father back Batman, just like that.” 

“He is Batman, Damian.” Damian usually liked it when someone is rational and able to argue their points calmly. He didn’t like it now, when Grayson turned that to him. 

“What about us, Grayson?” Damian shouted out. When no reply appeared to come, Damian said again, softly this time, “What about us?” 

“I’m still Batman, Damian. This is not about Batman and Robin, not really, right?” 

Damian hated it when Grayson figured him out. He sighed. “You… You want to become Nightwing again.” He stopped there, not wanting to say it out loud. Somehow, saying it out loud would make it tangible, make it real. Grayson waited patiently, though, so Damian continued. “Is it, is it because Nightwing… doesn’t have a partner?” 

Doesn’t have me. That was what Damian actually meant, but he couldn’t bear to say that. The answer might still be yes. 

“Damian. I want to be Nightwing because it’s mine. Batman was Bruce’s first. It has nothing to do with you.” 

Damian looked up at Grayson. He knew, now that his father was back, Grayson no longer had any obligation towards him whatsoever. “Nothing to do… with me?” There were multiple meanings underneath that question. Am I still your partner? Am I still your Robin? Do you still want me? 

“You’re mine. Yeah?” 

Just like all those months ago, when Grayson told Damian that there will be no League-like punishment here, Damian believed him. It worked both ways, after all. Grayson was also his. “Okay,” he said. 

***

[gothamincarnate]

REDBREAST: UTRH/HUSH AU

“Don’t mind that bird.  It just lays in the middle of my tunnel. The stupid thing is gone and dead!” exclaimed the mole. Thumbelina was filled with sadness at the sight of the beautiful ROBIN REDBREAST lying in the middle of the dirty tunnel. She covered the meek animal as much she could.

She wept quietly and hugged the bird.  Suddenly she could hear the bird’s heartbeat. Ba bump!  Ba buMP!  BA BUMP!  

It was a low, dull, quick sound –much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton.

Jason Todd has crawled from his grave in the back acre of Wayne Manor, there is no pit, no brain damage, he is simply alive.

And then I flew back home, but the window was barred, for my father had forgotten all about me, and there was another little boy sleeping in my bed!

His father didn’t learn from his mistakes, had brought one even younger than him to be hung by the bloodied yellow cape.

In panic and pain he recreates his death. A fake hostage with gory, visceral theater makeup mimicking his old wounds. The hostage taunts Batman, slipping out as the timer counts down on the dynamite. A father trapped inside, realizing he’s failed again.

Batman survives, somehow. Survives where Jason hadn’t. Maybe if Robin’s uniform had the same heavy kevlar, he could have. He hadn’t done enough to protect Jason, had he?

Well, Redbreast had planned for that. He is going up against Batman, he knew it would be a long game. Enjoys it, the panic he sees build as the weeks stretch on.

There’s whispers of a man named Redbreast working on uniting the rogues into something stronger, more unified and dangerous. But Bat’s efforts are met with red herrings and carefully written lines that the rogues spit back perfectly. Is Robin truly returned from the grave?

Phase two: Watch the bat soar around in circles, picking up breadcrumbs that have been left. Other rogues play their parts, tormenting him in whatever ways they feel fit.

Clayface plays the role of the second Robin, leading Bruce down alleyways, into the sewers past the Deacon’s old hideout, up to the streets, leading him to a fourth story balcony.

-Did he fall, or was he pushed?

-Guess I spooked him. He slipped.

Batman’s body is still and broken, replaying at least a fraction of the pain Jason had gone through. The ghost-Robin stays with Batman, talking to him as he comes in and out of consciousness. As reinforcements arrive, Robin runs. As Bruce is loaded in the Bat mobile, he tells Oracle that he’d seen Jason, he really had, it was him!

Bruce is taken to the hospital, patched up by a team of surgeons, including Dr. Elliot..

Then, bang, a loose end tied up, Hush has been quieted forever. Redbreast sets Joker lose, stages Dr. Elliot’s body nearby. If Batman won’t kill for Jason, for Barbara, for his children, maybe he’ll kill for his old childhood friend.

Jason watches nearby. Bruce is angry, nearly feral. He comes close. His gauntlets are bloodied and he’s angry and Jason feels something hopeful swell up in his chest. Joker’s going to die. Finally, it’ll be over.

Then Gordon intervenes, stopping Bruce. Damnit. Nearly isn’t good enough.

He’d had a different final act in mind. Simply showing up at the Manor and telling Bruce everything. Spoiling the mystery for the great detective. Ask to come home if Bruce had killed Joker. Ask Bruce to leave him the hell alone if the clown’s still alive.

Jason hadn’t wanted to get Tim involved. This wasn’t his fight. This was Bruce’s fault, for letting the kid think that Robin was safe. For continuing to think it was okay for a child to be in such violent situations without the proper protection, guidance, teamwork. Tim is just an idealistic kid, just like Jason was. Had been, once. Maybe he still was, but it was buried deep.

Bruce’s fault, for leaving the little bird alone. It had been simple to knock him out and nab him. See, he wasn’t trained well enough.

He held the kid hostage alongside Joker, though Joker was restrained enough Jason didn’t have to worry about a repeat.

Jason wasn’t going to hurt him. Not going to beat up a kid. But Batman didn’t know that. Tim didn’t know that. Well, not at first. Jason had tried to keep up the tough guy act, but then Tim had started freaking out, so Redbreast dialed back on the rage. He’d been an abused kid, he knew what it was like.

He lets Tim keep the communicator, destroys the tracker. Let Bruce hear the panic in the replacements voice, the Joker laughing in the background. Then Jason pulls his own mask off, keels down and tells Tim to deliver a message.

Tell Bruce the good news: His son’s back. And if Tim wants to keep breathing, Batman needs to come get him.

It takes a while, which is funny because they’re camped out in the old Todd residence, it shouldn’t have been that difficult. Jason Todd doesn’t touch a hair on Robin’s head. However, in his boredom he drags Joker to the former bedroom and beats the hell out of the clown.

“Maybe he’s abandoned you too, kid.” Maybe Redbreast is going to have a Robin of his own to look after, bring in from the cold. Not that he’s going to force the kid to join him, but where else is Robin going to go after being abandoned by the Bat? Who else would understand that ache but Redbreast?

Phase three: the final act. Redbreast abandons the domino mask, slipping a red hood on. His killer’s face, worn to taunt and ruin and upset his father. Look at what you’ve made me become.

Then Bruce trips a proximity alarm. Jason meets him a few blocks away. They fight, because Jason needs to show Bruce how strong he is after everything he’s suffered, how much Batman failed him as Robin. Bloody and bruised, he leads Batman back home, jumping through the window. By the time Bruce follows, Jason has unmasked himself. There’s a batarang held at Tim’s neck. Joker is tied to a chair.

Kill Joker, or kill Tim. And even if Bruce decides on Jason, he’d have to pray Jason goes down fast enough to keep from slitting the bird’s throat. It’s too risky, Jason knows it. Bruce knows it.

Of course Bruce is going to pick his new bird over Jason’s pain. He hasn’t killed Joker yet, but now he will. And that hurts, but the end result is the same. Joker’s still going to die.

He doesn’t give Bruce a gun. He gives him a crowbar and an explosive. He gives Bruce a choice, all these wonderful toys that had killed his son. With the state Joker’s in, it won’t take more than a few swings to finally finish him.

YOU HAVE TO DECIDE. YOU ALREADY LET ONE ROBIN DIE, YOU WANNA GO FOR TWO?

Bruce goes for the explosion, two charges planted on Joker. They’re small, one against his stomach and the other nestled against the atlas/axis vertebra.

There’s blood on Tim’s face, even as Redbreast had mercifully covered the boy’s eyes. The kid screams, Bruce is– utterly horrified. He drops the detonater and takes a step back.

Redbreast, true to his word, wipes the blood off Robin’s cheek with his glove and lets him go. Tim rushes to Batman, embracing him, half standing behind him. Redbreast stumbles back, and Bruce is saying something but he can’t hear it.

The explosion flashes in his vision and rings in his ears and, and oh man, he really didn’t think this through.

He’s not going to be allowed back home, he knows that. Sees it in the revulsion on his father’s face. He’d made him kill. Not just Batman, but Bruce. He’d broken him, taken his father and twisted him.

Jason turns and runs.

[sour--strawberries]

my opinions about Endgame

includes major spoilers, so don’t read if you didn’t see the movie

It has been almost four days since I saw Endgame and I am still trying to process it. After almost ten years of being a MCU fan, including seven years as a Stony shipper this all is really tough for me and I don't remember any movie ever before affecting me so much. please remember that those are my subjective opinions, you are free to agree or disagree, but any sort of aggressive comments will be immediately blocked, because this is not me wanting to start a fight, it is just me expressing my point of view and getting my feelings out.

- Tony and Nebula's friendship - the first shots from the space ship made me really smile. Nebula was slowly opening up and letting her guard down, and even if she seemed tense, Tony was trying to ease her in his very own Tony way, which was always so subtle and he had this amazing thing of making people feel comfortable around him, without any overpowering emotions. I was so happy to see them both having fun and enjoying each other company in such grim circumstances. when Tony offered Nebula last scraps of food, and she pushed it back to him, it broke me all over again. the way Nebula was placing Tony into the seat instead of leaving him on the floor. I want to adopt Nebula.

- Steve and Tony reunited again - when Steve rushed to Tony after he got out from the spaceship, oh God, my heart was soaring. for a brief moment, you could see their relief over the other being safe. then the compound scene rolled in, and Tony let out all the frustration he had in himself for all those years. You could see how broken and betrayed he was, and my heart just stopped when he called Steve a liar. the scene with Tony ripping off the arc reactor and pushing into Steve's hands with 'if you ever face Thanos, wear this and hide'. Tony was a terrified, ball of raw emotions, and I kinda hated that stoic expression on Steve's face and I, even more, hated the way he barked at Tony to focus and tell him about the fight with Thanos, like if he was back in military and Tony was his soldier. the man almost died in space, give him time, dammit.

- Natasha's character - this was the most open and vulnerable we have ever seen Natasha. from cold and 'triple spy' Black Widow this was a long way to come. also, after CA:CW I thought that Nat's and Tony's friendship was lost forever, but the way they were lying spread on that desk close to each other while discussing the time heist, fixed my heart again. Natasha will be missed dearly and I know that the memory about her will be treasured in Barton’s family and among OG6 Avengers.

- Thor's character - I heard that some of Thor's fans are disappointed with what Endgame did to their favorite, but I somehow found it so fitting. Thor never lost before, there was no obstacle he couldn't overcome. In this movie, he coped the best way he could, by finding a new home for his people and muting down his pain in alcoholism. this is just so relatable on every level. When the gauntlet was completed, you could see the almost maniacal despair when Thor offered to use the infinity stones, he wanted so much to make everything right again, to feel that he didn't fail. and, that might be my personal preference, but Thor assembling his gear back and when his unruly beard got braided, that was hot af.

- Bruce's character - that was surprising. that fusion of Hulk and Bruce. I guess it was also Bruce's coping mechanism - to become the best version of himself in his opinion. seeing Hulk acting gentle and having Bruce's smile was such a treat.

- Clint's character - I don't have a lot to say here, just I am glad Clint was able to go back to his family and I understand the murder spree he went on.

- Tony's family life - I was surprised he chose to live in a small house, outside city life in rather rural conditions, but I guess it just showed how much he wanted to escape from the genius-playboy-billionare-Iron Man part of his life. I am glad Tony found himself in domestic life and I always wished for Tony to have a daughter. Morgan H. Stark - not gonna lie, I hate the name Morgan, and H. makes me think that her second name is Howard, but I was thrilled to see Tony as a father and a husband.

- The going back in time thing - oh God. OH GOD. it was soooo gooood. it was like getting behind scenes material, just canon. we could see Avengers being a family. Steve being irritated by himself was glorious. The talk about Steve's ass made me wriggle in glee, and when you think that SHIELD designed this costume and all of Steve's next suits were designed by Tony, this scene gets a whole different meaning. Steve saying 'hail Hydra' made me clap like a seal, I know some hate it, but I have a soft spot for villain!Steve and Captain Hydra. when Ant-man gave Tony a cardiac arrest and Thor used Mjolnir to ‘power him up’ again, Tony's smile was so beautiful I almost melted. speaking of Thor, his meeting with Frigga was lovely. I would still prefer if Tony bumped into pregnant Maria and could see how awaited he was and then Howard would stroll along, but Tony and his dad making amends was good too.

- Nebula and Thanos - the pain is back. if somehow Nebulas memories didn't get entangled everything could go fine, and this was some kind of a farfetched thing to do, but fine, I understand everything had to go with a big bang. their stories are filled with pain, and watching the past Nebula struggle with present Nebula was emotional and unfair. I really wanted Nebula to rest.

- the final fight - IT. WAS. SO. GOOOOOD. visually I can't complain about anything. we got to see Pepper in Rescue armor. every Marvel character is back to fight. it was a stunning scene. I was surprised that Steve could lift Mjolnir, but then I whooped in excitement as clearly making amends with Tony made him worthy again (because it was confirmed that he couldn't lift the hammer in AoU because of keeping the truth about Tony's parents to himself)

- Tony's ending - oh God. it has been days and I still keep crying on and off. I can't believe how this ended for Tony. my heart is aching almost constantly and I feel like I lost a friend, someone I looked up to, someone who was there for me all the time and to who I could turn for comfort. and now he is gone. I honestly hate feeling this bleeding hole in my heart Tony's death had left. what I hate the most, is that we never saw Tony become truly happy. we never saw him being properly recognized as the hero he was. we never saw him having a chance to live in a full world again with his beloved ones and his family. I hate that they gave us ten years to get attached to someone, watch him rise and fall repeatedly, make mistakes and fix them, grow as a character and when he finally had a chance to be happy, they took him away from us in a glorious hero like death which crushed everything Tony Stark worked for. Tony wasn’t a fighter, he was a regular dude who got tangled in things he didn’t ask for and did his best to protect everyone and he managed to do it by always sacrificing himself and his happiness. he was a symbol for me that it is okay to make mistakes and fix them, and I always believed that in the end as long as you are a good person there is a happy ending waiting, but no, no, there isn’t, you can try your best, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. Tony was a lamb raised for slaughter. this ending for him makes me want to throw away every Marvel connected merchandise I have and it was one huge slap to all Tony fans around the world. that ending did justice to Iron Man and cemented his positions as Earth's best defender and MCU's greatest hero, but did shit to Tony Stark, and I won’t be over it for a very long time, I don’t know if I ever be over it. my only comfort is that one of last moments for Tony was Pepper smiling at him warmly and telling him that she and Morgan will be fine and he can rest, and it was so incredibly smart, because we all know how much Tony wanted to stay out of the fight and protect his family and I like to think that Tony erased Thanos from all timelines and secured the world forever for everyone. I really need to hear some comment from RDJ on it and someone telling us that Tony was at ease with dying, because it is all so raw and painful right now.

- Steve's ending - when Steve disappeared, my heart beat faster in hope that he will come back with Tony. when he didn't, and we saw Steve as an old man sitting on the bench, it was confusing for sure. I love that he handed the shield to Sam. my heart swelled with happiness when I saw Steve slow dancing with Peggy. but then… then I realized that Steve was in the current timeline all the time and didn't do squat. he knew shit would happen, and chose not to do anything. the man who claimed that 'he could do this all day' and 'when I see a situation pointed south, I can't ignore it, sometimes I wish I could, but I can't' willingly spent his life in hiding and traded everyone's happy ending for one slow dance. I don't like this ending and I want to emphasize that I don't hate on Steve, but I hate Steve in Russos' writing, because since CA:CW they made him nothing but selfish.

- ending thoughts - this movie is bittersweet. there were many good moments, almost clear fan service, but I can't cope with this kind of ending. maybe one day I will, but not now. do you know that scene in Friends when Phoebe doesn't know sad endings to the movies because her mom used to turn the TV off before those scenes could start? that will be me. I will be turning off Endgame after Tony gets the infinity stones and does the snap, and will lie to myself that he recovered and lived a long, full life with his family and friends and Steve got back after returning the stones and passed his shield to Sam and maybe continued to work as a therapist or found happiness in pursuing art and living outside the battlefield. I know they wanted to end Steve's and Tony's plotline, but killing one character and butchering the other is just a lazy way out, so the movie was good, the ending not so good and

[hariboowrites]

IW coda (2/2)

PART 1

SUMMARY: THOR AND JANE FOCUSED CODA TO IW bc i am who i am

She pops out on the ashes of a battlefield and realises her mistake.

“Halt!” She hears and wince. No, now she realises her mistake.

“Fuck,” Jane mutters, spinning in place, her hands up, as she comes face to face with Wakandan soldiers. They’re all pointing their spears at her and Jane yelps. “Sorry! I’m human! I’m— I’m Dr. Jane Foster. Your princess invited me here?”

The soldiers raise their eyebrows, unbelieving, and Jane can’t fault them. She only met Princess Shuri once at one of Jane’s lectures in Brussels not long after Wakanda opened itself to the world. She had handed Jane a very cool touch screen business card that Jane had tried to reverse engineer for about a month. She hadn’t manage.

I should have called first, Jane thinks, but the words that come out of her mouth are: “I have this!” And she digs into one of her jacket pockets and pulls out the card in question. Swiping her fingers across the screen, an image emerges from it with Princess Shuri’s face.

“Dr. Foster, I’d love to speak more with you about your Foster Theory. Please feel free to get in contact with me when your schedule allows. The details will be on the card. Bye!”

They look at each other, sigh, and lowered their spears.

Jane grins.

And this is why she never empties her pockets, Darcy.

-

In front of them the remaining ruling body of Wakanda are holding court with Rogers and Colonel Rhodes. Rhodes has just taken a call with Queen Regent Romanda and the remaining world council. Less than half of them remain; General Ross is gone. Thor watched as Bruce twisted his fingers together and mouthed a name. His hands fisted on his trousers. Natasha’s eyes flicked towards him. The name had not been Natasha’s. Thor knows little about what was happening between them as when he was last on Midgard he had been splitting his time between New York and where Jane was.

Jane…

Her memory burns deeply in him. Her home based had moved from London to Edinburgh not long after Convergence, but institutions around the world were constantly calling her to work with them. It had been an interesting way to see the world. The thought brings a sharp ache in his heart. When he left they had been on tense but good terms despite what he implied to Loki, but he lost Jane too. Maybe more fully than he ever allowed himself to think. She could be gone now, like half the world, like half the universe, and every time he let his thoughts stray that way, he has to stop himself.

As Her Majesty and Rhodes continue their meeting with various world leaders, Queen Romanda offers Wakanda’s assistance. Her son was King until an hour ago, as he’s come to understand, and now she stands, straight backed, eyes wise, and heart most certainly broken. Thor tries not think of his mother, tries not think of how she looked after Loki’s first death. He thinks about he’s selfishly glad she did not have to live through his following two and Father’s. Or how she would have felt about Hela’s return. He can’t think on that, not now, not when Thanos lives and half the universe is gone. M’baku stands next to the Queen as she and Rhodes coordinate to bring Midgard back into balance. Families are gone, friends are gone, but so are many world leader and their governing bodies. In the aftermath, shock will reign, but once things settle down… good people have remained, but so have greedy and cruel people. Thanos did not better the universe, he only created instability in an already finely balanced scale. He did not understand. Thor only understands now as he watches the ashes fall.

Soon, he leaves the meeting room with Rogers, Romanoff, Banner, Rocket, Princess Shuri, and her guard. They follow the Princess, her eyes still red rimmed and pulling at Thor’s heartstrings, to her lab.  Rocket clambers up Thor’s cape and settles quiet on his shoulder. Thor allows him. No father should lose his son. Once they reach the lab, he jumps down and curls up by a window. The Wakandans look at the talking racoon with wide eyes, but easy acceptance. The world they lived in now was not one were you could dismissed an ally, strange, small, and angry as they might be.

Rogers and Romanoff stand near each other. Okoye does not move more than five feet from the princess’ side. Banner hovers and paces across the room. At one point Natasha’s phone beeped and she looked down to it before moving to talk to Okoye about something.

So even now, in a room with allies and friends, Thor feels so completely alone. Useless in a way he never has before. Strombreaker pulses differently in his hand than Mljonir did. It harnesses his power differently, requires more from him. He guesses it’s a good thing that in the last fortnight his powers have been raging high within him.

Speaking off, he feels them now. Bubbling under his fingertips. He clenches his hand, fingernails biting into his skin. Thinking of home and Loki and Jane has not done any good to his temperament. He tries to think of Krog and Valkyrie and the remaining Asgardians who made it off the ship. He hopes they’ve found safe harbour. He hopes that with Asgard already gone, it’s population already halved by Thanos, the universe was kind to them and spared them all. Asgard indeed lives in the heart of its people, but if there are no people to keep its beat alive the Asgard is truly gone. The thought makes him hate Thanos more than he thought possible, it makes him hate Hela who if not for all the secrets in his family he may have loved. Something dark and bitter in him thinks they would have been well suited to each other. Goddess of Death and the warlord who courted it.

“Thor? Thor?”

Snapping back to the present, Thor turns. Rogers looks at him with kind, understanding eyes. Thor straightens. The captain’s empathy always shines clear in this eyes.  “I am sorry, my mind drifted away from me.”

He nods, “It’s okay. We were just wondering… can you get us to Thanos?”

Thor considers this. He lifts Strombreaker. “I do not have Heimdall’s power of Sight across the universe. I cannot find someone who is where I don’t know, but I can get us off planet should we need to.”

Banner makes his turn around the room. “We have to find Tony too… I mean, if he’s—“

“We’ll find him,” Rogers says. Thor wishes he could sound as confident as him. Everything in him is struggling to keep it together. “And then we’ll find Thanos—“ The name sparks new anger in him, his fingers light up.

Everyone looks at him. Rocket lifts his head for the first time in a while. “You okay, big guy?”

Thor nods. He is not, but he has to be.

He has to be.

“You sure—“

His fingers spark.

Natasha gets cut off as a pair of guards enter the room.

“Okoye, Princess, there is a woman who—“

“Thor!”

Jane’s voice rings out and everything inside him stops. His focus narrows on her and her face as she turns the corner. She pushes past the guards that were flanking her and rushes across the room to him. He notes they go and stop her, and tenses, ready to intervene, but Okoye catches their eye and nods at them. They stand down.

It’s the most natural thing in the world to catch her in his arms and wrap his arms around her. His power immediately settles back into his skin at the feel of her weight under his hands. Jane’s arms are tight around his neck and he clutches her, her feet skimming off the ground. If she feels the remainder of the sparks in his fingers she says nothing; she’s familiar with the edges of his power anyway. He can feel the whisper of his name against his neck. How her body relaxes into his, her relief physical. His own body echoes it. The tightness in chest diminishes slightly. He buries his face in her hair for a second before pulling back to look into her eyes.

They are familiar and shining. He lifts one hand from her waist to wipe at the corner of her eyes.

“Jane,” he says. The first word in days that does not bring him pain.

Her fingers smooth through his hair. She closes her eyes for a beat. “You’re okay, you’re okay....” she mutters and looks into his eyes. “Your hair...” her eyes narrow and she touches his right eye and he knows she sees the difference in their colour. “Your...” He shakes his head. Not here, but now. She gives him a familiar sigh as her fingers skim his jaw. They’ll be talking about it later.

Jane leans back, her touch soft. He wants to lean into it further. He loosens his hold enough to let her touch the ground despite that everything in him wants to pull her in closer.

“Thor, what happened?” she asks, voice steady, but scared. “I was in Cape Town on the phone with Darcy when she... then other people around me— My mom didn’t answer the phone. Neither did Sif.” And while that surprises Thor, but there’s no time to dwell on his friend and the flash of pain in his heart when he remembers Heimdall’s sacrifice. “What happened?” Her voice breaks. “What happened?”

Thor hates he’s the one that has to tell her he failed, but she deserves to hear it from him.

“Thanos got the stones. We— I was too late,” he says. The name creating a new spark of pain in him. Jane looks at him and grabs his hand. She squeezes his fingers and slips them between her own. Thor grips her like a lifeline. He is surprised at how much her touch settles him still.

“It wasn’t your fault, Thor,” Rogers cuts in, reminding Thor they are not alone. Jane turns to face him. Steve smiles at her. “Hi, Jane.”

Thor takes a deep breath. Rogers is wrong, but it’s not the time for that. “Let us all talk,” he says instead.

Jane nods, shifting to stand at his side, as she looks across the room. As soon as she see Shuri, she blushes.

“I’m so sorry, Princess. I used this to get your guards to let me in,” and she pulls out a very small electronic card.

Princess Shuri smiles. “It’s alright, Dr. Foster. It is why I gave it to you. Though I thought you would call first, but under the circumstances I understand why you didn’t.”

Jane shrugs . “Yeah, sorry. It was rude, I know.” She turns to their friends. “Hi, guys.”

“I just got your message,” Romanoff says with a small smile. “A little more warning would have been nice. How did you get here so fast?”

“I’ll explain in a second. Hey, Bruce.” She reaches out to Banner, who steps up and gives her a slightly awkward hug since she’s still holding Thor’s hand. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Banner grins; his first since Thor landed on Earth. “Hi, Jane. It’s good to see you, too.”

She snorts. “Understatement of the year. Catch me up?” She steps forward, tugging on Thor’s hand as she moves. Thor walks towards Princess Shuri with her. He doesn’t want to let go of her hand and thankfully Jane is not forcing the matter. As they fill Jane in on what’s happened in the last few days across the universe, Thor and Banner add in what happened on Sakaar and Asgard. Jane starts when he skims over what happened to Asgard and Heimdall and even Loki. She meets his eyes and while she says nothing he can see how her entire body sags, how her eyes mist, and she chokes back a sob at what she sees in his gaze. Her grip on his hand tightens and she presses her forehead to his bicep. He feels her lips brush his skin in silent comfort. They have too much to talk about. Banner, a good friend, better than Thor had thought a week ago, covers for them and quickly starts to explain what he knows of Stark, trapped somewhere in space. It gives Thor time to regroup before he adds in the facts of his journey these last few days. Rocket adds his own colourful commentary as Thor explains the creation of his axe. Jane to her credit only blinks at the talking raccoon.

“And is Eitri alright? Is Nidavellir still working?” she asks. He had almost forgotten he had taken there once to meet Eitri. How she had studied Nidavellir, how she wore a piece forged from there on her person, still. He can feel it against his palm.

Thor nods, catching the glint in Jane’s eye. “He does. Do you need his help?”

Jane hums. “Maybe later…” she says, pulling her bag closer to her. She turns to Rogers and Rhodes, who came into the room as they explained the situation to Jane, “So first thing first. You guys wanna find Tony, I mean, if he’s still—“

“Thor can get us into space,” starts Rogers. “His ham—his axe brought him here, didn’t it?”

“It did,” he affirms, quietly enjoying how Jane’s eyes light up at the fact. That she is still here, that her eyes still brighten at the science of Asgard, that her mind still looks for answers to reach the stars allows him to feel normal for the first time in days.

Turning to Rogers, he explains just how calling the Bifrost with his axe works. “But only if I know the location. It’s why I could get here. I do not have Heimdall’s power to look through the stars and locate a person in a place unknown. I require previous knowledge of the location. I cannot just call the Bifrost across the universe if I don’t know where I’m going even if I know who I’m looking for. Once I get closer to a location I can guide it better, but first I need to know the place I’m aiming for. But Jane, you can, can you not?”

Jane looks at him and bites her lip. The warm flare of affection and attraction at that familiar gesture makes Thor grin. He knows that look well. She can. He could kiss her. It surprises him how much he wants to right now.

“Not yet,” she says. Reaching in her pocket she pulls out a small device. “Tony helped me with some of the nanotech and the arc reactor, and I can now make the portals I used during Convergence to get around the planet. I didn’t want anyone to know I had the technology yet, it’s still mostly untested, and not as stable as I want it to be.” She swallows, her eyes flicking away from him. “I still get some vertigo if I go across the planet, but that’s what I was hoping Princess Shuri would help me with,” she says, turning to the princess. “Except now I think we might need to try to get a bit further than North America?”

At her words, Princess Shuri grins, her eyes (still a bit puffy form her earlier tears) crinkle from her smile. “Oh yes,” she moves across the room and holds her hands out for Jane’s device. Jane hands it over easily. “I think I can definitely help with that, Dr. Foster!” She pops the device under a Wakandan scanner and starts moving around her lab. Okoye gives a grateful look at Jane as she looks over her charge. Banner moves closer and eagerly listens to the princess explain Jane’s device and her idea to help boost Jane’s portals to span the universe. Rogers and Natasha walk over to Okoye and Thor knows they’re about to beginning planning what they’ll do next once the princess and Jane get the device to work. Thor knows he should go over to them, and he will, soon, but right now Jane is still by his side. She’s standing next him, her hand still in his, her eyes on the princess and her device, and soul intact.

Thor will move. He will plan with his friends, he will avenge his brother and the universe. They will fix this somehow, but for now, for this moment, Jane is here. He thinks about he told Rocket on the way to Nidavellir. What more do I have to lose? Glancing at Jane, he realises is not willing to find out. He did not know what he had still, but now he does.

She must feel him looking at her and glances up at him. “Hey, you okay?”

He nods, and it feels true. “Better now that you’re here.” He lifts their joined hands and kisses her fingers.

She laughs, reaching up to cup his jaw and raises herself up on her tiptoes. Her lips brush against his cheek. “Same, you know. I didn’t think I’d— I’m… I feel better when you’re around.” Grabbing her bag, she nods her head toward the corner of her lab. “By the way, I have something else to tell you. I might have gone to Norway a month ago when I saw some Bifrost readings there.”

Thor lifts his brow, curious. Jane hands the bag to him and he pauses at the weight in it. He looks at her and realises she’s been holding it with easy for some time. Her eyes meet him and she grins.

“Surprise,” she says, eyes bright and Thor feels hope again.

[blandmemoirs]

Anger

Rage, Fury, Fire, Pain, Momentum, Energy, unyielding emotion. When I am angry my mind is clear of all the torment of anxiety or doubt. I become objective driven, I become focused, I become energized. I am filled with a burning passion to move, and to never stop moving.

In days of old, my anger would manifest through methods of lashing out. Of attacking, of punching back, of inflicting pain on that which upset me. This is unproductive. To hurt another as a result of your frustration is unjustified. It doesnt make a situation better. It makes it worse. It builds further resentment between yourself and the person you are angry at. It prevents solutions. It causes more hurt. I learned this a long time ago and understand it today. I cannot swear to pacifism, but I will not resort to violence unless my safety or the safety of those I love is directly threatened.

I made a choice a few years ago to use my anger productively. If I am to become angry, I cannot lash out. I cannot hurt other people. I have to use it to be productive. Anger, like any emotion, is a flare of passion in the body and mind. It is energy, and it can be redirected in ways that dont further a cycle of violence. That is what I live to prove.

I am an angry person. I get angry, often. Its not a new development in my life. It has followed me since my childhood. Its sources are numerous. I cant attribute it to any one cause or happening. I have always been angry.

I know this because in kindergarten, I would pick fights with other children, often. Just random, chaotic violence. I enjoyed it. I liked hurting other people. Then I would go home to more violence. This time from my parents into me as discipline for my actions. My parents would belt me for more than just violence, it could come from me simply acting out. Sometimes I was spared the physical harm by recieving emotional harm from furious yelling. My parents taught me anger and violence, and their resorting to violence taught me to resort to violence. Might made right. I shouldnt put all of my problems on my parents, but they wear a substantial amount of blame for the way I learned to cope and act.

My father is an angry man. He grew up in harsh conditions with a harsh family that put him through worse than I've ever lived through. He made sure to tell me that anytime I voiced the tyranny in his actions. He resents his older brother, doesnt like his father, and has spent much of his life failing. Deep in debt from his own mistakes, bearing the blame for a fractured household and broken marriage, he is full of anger. He takes out his anger on those weaker than him. From the dogs he can kick when they bark too loud, to the children he can endlessly insult and shout at for minor transgressions. All made worse by alcoholism to cope. My father is not a bad man, but an incredibly flawed and broken one. He does make efforts to redeem and be better, but he has not yet atoned for his actions, and the marks he has left on his children will linger whether he accepts it or not.

My mother is an angry woman. Raised in a split household between parents who live irresponsibly and resent each other. She was a rebellious youth who took her own childhood away when I was conceived. A child raising a child. A lack of freedom as her life is indebted to my survival and later, two more. Dead end job to dead end job. A broken marriage and a dysfunctional family she is forced to raise with no individual progress to be attained. She resents her circumstances. She desires higher living and a fate she can control. She takes out her anger on those weaker than her. From the dogs she can hit to the children she can scream at for "negativity". All made worse by alcohol and weed. My mother is not a bad woman, she is just an incredibly flawed and broken one. A girl who became a mother too quickly. An independent soul tethered to a path of dependence. She makes efforts to be better, but often furthers a rift she created. Her anger will be remembered in the hearts of her children.

I do not know the true extent of my parents lives, I only know what I have seen, been revealed, and assumed. I know one thing for certain, they are examples of how not to grow up. The anger they live with is an anger I live with. To tame their beasts they drink and lash out, I must be better.

Which is why I cling so desperately to the example set for myself by the Incredible Hulk, my favorite character. A genius with deep emotional trauma turned into a monster fueled by rage. Dr Robert Bruce Banner must learn to live with the monster that dwells inside him. The Hulk, limitless rage personified, is a monster that does not want to hurt people, but just wants to be left alone among his friends. He is violent, but only because he recieves violence. The monster is capable of reason, of morality, of seeing through the surge of rage to know what is right and what is wrong. As such, the Hulk chooses to be a hero, to save and protect the innocent and to smash those who do evil. Bruce Banner must live with his anger, to know when it is right to let the beast out and to understand when smashing is the wrong option.

Banner has spent most of his life trying to rid himself of the Hulk, but the Hulk is not something Banner can live without. The Hulk is a part of Bruce, is a piece of his damaged psyche which will always exist. The gamma radiation only externalized these features.

Hulk also resents Banner, and wishes he could exist without him. Hulk doesn't like Banner's weak manner and conniving mind. Hulk doesn't like being locked up in a cage in the back of Banners mind. Hulk wants to be free and Hulk wants to be left alone.

These two characters are inseparable, and two sides of the same coin. Hulk is a manifestation of Banners trauma and repressed anger. Hulk is a destructive force of passion that can be directed to do good. These entities must coexist, for they need each other.

What does this have to do with me? In a less hyperbolic manner, my rage is a part of me. It does not go away. It never ends. It is a piece of my heart and mind. It is a force that makes me want to destroy all that causes harm to those I love. Anger does not cease within the chaotic storm that is my heart, it persists and waits for its time to possess me. When I am angry my body tenses, my eyes focus, my heart beats at rapid pace, my stomach churns, my body shakes. At its worst I lose sight and see nothing but flashes of red as I convulse into shivers of rage. When control of my body is returned the next moment, my mind is clear and I am energized in a way almost as potently as when I am in love. I can do almost anything. It is raw adrenaline. I move faster, harder, and with more force and precision than when I am in a normal state. I make objectives and carry them through. I become a machine fueled by limitless rage. It can almost be addicting. Sometimes I have so much force locked inside I feel an urge to scream. I often repress it for the sake of keeping attention away from myself. Anger makes me more effective in my work. Be it my actual job, my writing, or editing. I am so focused, creative forces flow, all through the red lense of rage. Sometimes I run, sometimes I drive, sometimes I channel this energy into speaking. An endless monologue or a consoling speech to a friend in need. For that is the true root to my rage. A friend in pain. When a friend is hurt, I flare up. The closer and more important my friend, the angrier I get. The angrier I get the more energy I have and the more I cant stop moving. My foot tapping, my leg bouncing, I pace. Anger does not debilitate me, it gives me more ability than I know what to do with.

It is not just that a friend is in pain, it is that I cant do anything to stop it. I can't do anything to change their cirumstance. I cannot save them from their suffering because the forces that hurt them are out of my control, out of my influence. I can only console, and console I do, even as rage paves the way of my actions.

When my anger releases its possession of me, I am left to deep introspection and concern. Did I do enough? Did I help? Did I do anything? Why was I angry? I feel rejuvenated, almost born anew. The passion has retreated to my internal self, and I am left feeling cool and calmer. Sometimes, in truly helpess circumstances, I feel empty. I was not enough. I didn't do enough. Worst, when my anger was used unproductively, I feel guilty. Knowing I was wrong and unjust. It is a betrayal to myself to use anger to harm others.

Today I was made angry at the hurt of one of the most important people in my life whom I care deeply for. Their circumstances are far beyond my powers to control, and they themself live far from me. The only thing I can do is send my love and support in the form of text or voice. It never feels like enough. My anger possesses me, and the temptation to strike out at the world that causes such endless pain for my loved ones exists. A random act of violence to atone for the wrongs done to another. That is not right. There is no justice in that. There is no good to come from it. So instead I made my objective to work harder, to make more money in my shift and to ensure my immediate environment was taken care of. I wished every coworker safe travels and good nights, I greeted and enthusiastically interacted with customers and pedestrians who gave me the time. Spreading good energy and doing good for others while powered up with this anger made for a more productive day. When the anger finally relinquished, I began typing. To explain, and to document for myself. I can do good with the frustration I feel. I can be a good man.

I understand this all very intimately now. A younger, less introspective Robbie did not. I got angry, had so much energy and power in my palms I only thought to make a fist. I would then use those fists for causes of pain and revenge, sometimes on undeserving parties. It built a guilt deep inside me that I will never forgive myself for. I can only be a better person now. Instead of making a fist I pick up a pen, or more truthfully I grab a keyboard. Words, endless words, inspired by anger and made real through my choices to funnel that rage.

I am inseparable from my anger. My anger is a part of me. I have to own it, and I have to admit to it. I cant live in fear of myself for what can happen when I lose control, as rare as such an occurence is. I have to instead use it to be productive, and clean up what messes I make with it. And I will make messes. I will hurt people. It is inevitable for an emotion as potent as anger. Sometimes the lense of rage prevents us from seeing reality as fairly as we might. Sometimes a fist is formed.

It is my responsibility and my burden to bear. I cannot blame others for my own nature. I can not allow myself to resent others for who I am. When I am made angry, instead I must find a way to resolve my conflicts and make good.

The Hulk has been saving the world for decades through his anger, and I can do the same. Its not easy. Living with yourself and accepting yourself is hard for some people who look deep into themselves enough. I used to cage this monster, to repress it. It would always free itself and come to the surface. Pent up aggression and bitterness blinds anger and creates pain. Instead, I will live with this intensity I call my anger, and I will continue to live to make it productive, for the benefit of myself and my friends.

I should not hate myself because I am angry. My anger is rooted in the love I have. There is nothing wrong with being angry unless I choose to hurt others with it. That is a choice I will not make unless the other is someone of truly abominable character.

Robbie Bland is an angry person, but he is not a bad person because of it. Make your anger productive. 'Nuff said. Thanks for reading.

[movieswithkevin27]

Truth

Following the release of Truth in 2015, Dan Rather - who is portrayed by Robert Redford in the film - was asked what he thought about the film and its accuracy. In his response, he stated that, "I think it's the best thing that's ever been up on the big screen about how television news really works." Considering the film pauses every few minutes to wax nostalgic about Rather, his ability as a reporter starting way back in the 1960s, the glory days of journalism, and how Rather was a beacon of light in the changing times for journalism, it is not hard to believe that Rather himself would like the film. Of course, this quote and given the context of the film itself actually manages to touch on what makes Truth go so awry. Based on a non-fiction book written by Mary Mapes - who is portrayed by Cate Blanchett - the film explores CBS News and 60 Minutes' reporting on the Killian documents that seemed to discredit George W. Bush's service in the National Guard. As the book is by Mapes and the story is about Mapes and how she and her team were misled on a story, it is not hard to imagine this film as bein unwilling to criticize either her or her team. Unfortunately, that is exactly what happens and the film suffers for this "kid gloves" approach to its protagonists and their takes on the direction of journalism. A mixed bag, Truth is a film that has all of the makings of a great journalism film, but none of the follow through.

As a result, it is hard to not see Truth's greatest issue as being its source material. As it is written by Mapes who idolized Rather and, obviously, stands by her reporting, the film approaches both with no venom whatsoever. Instead, let's both of the hook - especially Mapes and her team - for accepting obvious copies as the real documents and forcing out a story that had some good reporting behind it, but was probably a few confirmations away from being good to go. Even then, once it was discredited and retracted, it is hard to stand by that reporting as being done in furtherance of a truly accurate story. Yet, the film seems to not understand that Mapes and her team got it wrong. Defiant in its denial, Truth seems unaware of the fact the memos were forgeries or that the team was entirely misled by their sources. While the story the film tells about the reporting behind the Killian documents story is compelling, it is hard to see this as a definitive telling of that story. Rather, it feels like Mapes making her case that she was actually in the right due to some perceived journalistic duty to report the story.

Unfortunately, this ultimately gives way to conspiracy theories. Though her closing speech about the current state of journalism review by the public being that of nit-picking, yelling, and smear tactics, may make some strong - though heavy-handed - points, it nonetheless screams of hypocrisy. Arguing that people base their opinions on a select few facts that only serve to further their own point - which she is right about - Truth falls into the same trap. In a monologue for reporter Mike Smith (Topher Grace), he argues that CBS News is only pulling the story due to pressure from the White House, who had previously done Viacom a deal to ensure they could keep all of their current affiliates. Citing this apparent relationship as the reason why the story gets squashed, the film also focuses in on the political leanings of the men tasked with investigating Mapes and her reporting, naming one individual as a former Attorney under Bush Sr. and a friend of the Bush family. While certainly biased, the film seems to be lining up its cards to position this as a Conservative conspiracy to discredit Mary Mapes and her work when, in reality, SHE GOT THE STORY WRONG. It was wrong. Bottom line. At best, the film comes off as delusional for seemingly not understanding that the story reported by 60 Minutes was wrong. Though it accuses people of shouting to obfuscate points made by those they disagree with or focusing on conspiracy theories about the opposing side, the film falls into the same traps and points the finger at some shady dealings between Viacom and the government. Whether or not they are right that Bush and Viacom were close friends, it does nothing to change the point that the document that is used to base the entire story around is hardly the most trustworthy document in written history. There may be ulterior motives, who knows, but the film does nothing but point fingers and yell about it, while failing to actually offer any evidence that it is true.

Where the film perhaps errs the most is in the handling of Mary Mapes' back story. Forcing in elements about how her father used to beat her for asking questions, but how she would refuse to ever give him the satisfaction of crying or asking him to stop, Truth uncomfortably draws parallels between that abuse and her treatment by ABC News. As her story is examined by ABC News, there are lines of dialogue regarding how she is being hit for just asking questions, which is exactly how her abuse that she suffered is described. Later, when her father appears on ABC News to discredit her - if this did happen, then ABC News did commit a major mistake as well, to be fair - the parallel is finalized as Truth shows those who attack her story as essentially beating her like her father. Making her immune to counter-arguments or criticism for getting the story wrong, Truth tries to insulate its protagonist and show her as a woman who did her best and, if the story was wrong, it was not her fault for asking questions. In the process, it damns ABC News reporters for asking questions and being similarly misled by untrustworthy sources in their examination. The film wants to be have to Mary as a crusader for journalism and paint all those who oppose her as being in the way of good stories. Unfortunately, to do so, it is wholly hypocritical and, in creating a parallel between criticism and her being abused, deeply uncomfortable and inappropriate.

While the may wear its biases on its sleeves and director James Vanderbilt certainly uses it as a platform to blast fake news, infotainment, and corruption between the news media and the government, Truth is a film with an undeniably incredible story. As a film about journalists doing their job and bringing a story from the ground up, the film shows how easy it is to be misled, no matter how much work was put into the story. Displaying the various steps taken for verification, the process of getting a show on the air, and the feeling that a story must be pushed forth to beat other news networks, Truth is a film that may not be entirely truthful about its participants, but offers and honest and engrossing look at journalism and, in particular, how the Killian documents controversy came to fruition. The film may wax nostalgic a bit too much and heavy-handed in its politics, but it is a powerful and gripping tale about journalism and the lengths that reporters go in investigating a story.

Truth is a film that is additionally bolstered by its fantastic cast, even down to small turns from actors such as Stacy Leach as the sickly source of the story or Bruce Greenwood as the President of CBS News. As Dan Rather, Robert Redford is stoic, confident, and gives off that magnanimous feeling that made Rather a man who millions would spend time with every evening and trust. He has a warm honesty about him in this portrayal that makes it easy to see why Rather became a man so revered in journalism. Though the film may resort to patting Rather on the back a bit too much, it often demonstrates why it would do so by showing him to be a man with a burning passion for news that really shines through in his own reporting. As a result, Redford demonstrates that great actors never lose their ability with a typically excellent turn from the legend and one that gives the film great presence. As its protagonist Mary Mapes, Cate Blanchett shines. Passionate, forceful, and determined, Blanchett's excellent delivery of her closing monologue, her selling of Mapes' emotional issues with her father, and the earnest nature of her interactions with Redford/Rather, allow Mapes to become a truly well-rounded character. It is a performance with a lot of emotional resonance that breathes life into the film. This is a role that really allowed Blanchett to sink her teeth into it and she took the opportunity and ran with it, delivering a powerful turn that really saves the film from being anything less than average.

Seemingly unaware of the truth behind its own true story, Truth is a film maligned by its own source material. A great cast and a strong portrayal of news work cannot save the film from shying away from criticizing Mary Mapes or her story, as the book the film is based on was written by Mapes herself. Squeamish in how it glosses conveniently over anything that would make Mapes look bad, while painting those who criticized as her in a deeply negative light, Truth is a film that seems more akin to Mapes trying to clear her name and point blame for her errors than it is an examination of the controversy. Fortunately, if taken with a huge grain of salt, Truth's passionate telling of its true story and an equally strong cast allow the film to somewhat hit the mark, even if it is deeply flawed.