#this is literally the exact same argument that I've had with twenty people

[yourwakingnightmares]

Hey you know what's really funny? I've had this exact same conversation with like, twenty people lately! All of whom insist that Jason isn't angry! That as Robin he was smol lovable adorable bean.

Because again, 'angry' and 'violent' have become so conflated, that y'all can't see the difference. Any mention of 'anger' and I get Jason fans swooping out of the woodwork to tell me that I just don't understand the character, that during his Robin run of the 80s, he was smol adorable boy.

Firstly... Sure, let's just chuck the whole Felipe thing right out the window. Because he can't be angry about that; anger is just bad, right? So he wasn't angry when he went there that night, no, no, no, he was going to sing Kumbaya while asking Felipe to very nicely turn himself in.

Just like Bruce does! Because Bruce also isn't angry. He dresses up as a giant bat to nicely ask people to please respect the law, because he's a kind loving guy like that, right?

Again... You have missed the entirety of the damn point here. You, and fans like you, have this really incredibly asinine idea that 'anger' equals 'violence'. That people can't be angry about things, without being violent. So by me saying, Jason was absolutely angry, that he'd been put into a situation where he had to basically act like an adult, where he was responsible for his own well-being, while trying to survive homeless on the streets of one of the most dangerous cities in DC's universe, means that I think he was violent, and just got his little jollies off by beating people up, and yelling at Bruce.

Curiosity here... Are you also one of those people who goes in for lovable octopus Dick Grayson who's never angry or mad either? That Dick is also an adorable ray of sunshine who has never been angry in his life?

Bruce is angry. Dick is angry. Damian's angry. Not overly familiar with Tim in the comics, but I'm gonna take a gander and say he's probably got some anger too. Just. Like. Jason.

That's the entirety of the point you folks insist on missing. Saying Jason was angry doesn't mean he was needlessly, sociopathically violent. Anymore than it means Dick, Tim, or Damian are violent little sociopaths. Anymore than it makes Bruce a violent sociopath.

Why do you think Jason became Robin? What do you think it meant to him? As a kid, homeless, helpless for a large part of his childhood years? Why wouldn't he just sit back and enjoy the good life of being Bruce Wayne's son?

Or to put it another way: when you see a homeless kid on the street, when you see a kid getting bullied, when you see someone being mistreated... How does that make you feel? You want to do something, you want to help. You want to fix a system that allows this bullshit to happen. Because it's not right, and these things shouldn't happen.

Gonna let you in on a little secret there, fam... That's not sads. That's not happiness. That's anger. Something is wrong and it needs to be fixed. People who get the sads about something don't go running off to fix things. Moral indignation is just a real fancy way of saying, angry because it shouldn't be like that.

Which is what y'all insist on missing, and why y'all continue to insist on just washing any hint of anger away from this character. Because you see anger and think bad violent mean.

Do you think Bruce Wayne was sad and that's why he became Batman? Why he went on a lifelong crusade as a vigilante?

Do you think Dick Grayson was happiness personified when he tried to take out the man who'd killed his parents? Why he became Robin?

And as a super special bonus... If you're going to insist on just ignoring canon that you don't like... Well, we can do two things with that.

Since you're so fond of the 80s run, of Jason's Robin run... Well, half of ADITF is retconned or just flat out changed in UtRH, and changed more in RHATO. So we'll just chuck all that out. Grats. Jason's still dead now, but at least we don't have to accept icky canon.

But wait! Let's go back a step further! Because you all love to espouse 'in the original!' like it has some deeper meaning other than 'what I like', so! In the original, Jason Todd was nothing more than a blond-haired Dick Grayson. Quite literally, a blond little boy who was the child of circus acrobats who are killed by Killer Croc. So! No more discussion of homeless Jason, of Willis and Catherine; nope, we'll just get rid of all of it. Since you're so intent on 'original', right?

Which means no death from the Joker. There. Everything's all fixed now. He's just a cardboard cut out of Dick Grayson where somebody messed up the color printer. But at least he wasn't angry.

Jason Todd: Origins, Background, and Childhood

Hi there, yes it's me, crawling out of the woodworks to rant again. Hi.

So, lately I've seen a huge group of people insisting that Jason Todd is...

A) Not Angry Ever

B) Grew up happy and normal, and really, it's classist to assume otherwise.

Now, we're gonna start with this 'classist' bullshit and get it right out of the way. Because it's infuriating, tbh. I spent most of my childhood growing up in a trailer that rarely had running water or electricity because my mother would spend any money she got her grubby hands on, on cigarettes, booze, and drugs.

And I'm not unique, or a special case. According to one Harvard study (1), the highest use of opioid abuse happens "...concentrated in more economically disadvantaged zip codes, indicated by higher rates of poverty and unemployment as well as lower education..."

According to another study by National Bureau of Economic Research, (2) "... Poverty is concentrated in inner-city neighborhoods that are also characterized by high rates of drug use."

This doesn't mean, of course, that every person who is poor, or grows up in generational poverty, is going to use drugs, and abuse their spouse or children, obviously. Many people grow up poor, or even as victims of domestic violence themselves, and don't go on to be abusive, alcoholics, or drug addicts. But denying that there is a huge correlation between poverty and drug use, and domestic violence, is burying our heads in the sand. (Side note: yeah, this is kind of my soap box too for we really need to start doing something about the children growing up in poverty, but I promise, we're getting to Jason Todd.)

Now, as has been established conclusively in canon, Jason Todd grew up in Park Row, also commonly referred to as 'Crime Alley'. This is undeniably, and widely accepted, as the poorest neighborhood in Gotham, with the highest amounts of crime, drug use, homelessness, and prostitution. Essentially, not matter which continuity you're talking about, Crime Alley is a cesspit. This is where Jason Todd grew up, first with his parents, and then with just his mom, then by himself, as a homeless child.

Now, several people I've... ahem... discussed things with lately, have insisted that Willis Todd was really a lovely, lovely person, and that we have no evidence or proof that he was abusive, or an alcoholic. Let me introduce you to a series of comic panels that pretty clearly make the case otherwise.

Or this one...

Or this one, where it says, Willis probably loved his son:

Even a quick google search of Willis Todd will show that the panel above? The one where it says he probably loved his son? That's about the best Jason had. Sure, pre-crisis, Willis was probably great; of course, pre-crisis, Willis and Catherine were also circus acrobats, and Jason was just a blond-haired version of Dick. So I think we can safely say that saying, "Well, PRE-CRISIS..." is kinda pointless and redundant here.

Now, further on, we have Catherine's drug use. While this was made clear in more recent comics...

We also have hints and heavily implied drug use from the 80s comics as well, including this one:

So after growing up with this lovely bunch of dysfunctionality, parentification, poverty, emotional/mental abuse, and most likely physical abuse (or, in a best case, neglect), Willis goes to jail, and Catherine eventually dies of an overdose. Now, canon does get a little hard to follow here, as several sources state she was self-medicating with heroin to deal with her 'illness' (which is usually described as cancer), with others just stating that she used heroin, without giving a reason as to why. But regardless of the 'why' of her drug use... she overdoses, and leaves Jason alone, homeless, in the most violent, crime infested streets of Gotham.

So we've clearly established that, in most continuities, Jason grew up with at best, neglectful parents, at worst, abusive parents (and yes, parentifying your child into having to take care of you is abuse, do not do), and was then homeless for (depending on the continuity) anywhere from 1-3 years (some variations have Bruce picking him up at 11, some at 13, and it's listed as Catherine dying variously when he was 9, 10, and 12).

Now, I want you to imagine all of that. Just for a moment. I want you to try and put yourself into a young Jason's shoes.

When your father is around, he's violent, he yells, he beats your mother, and sometimes he beats you. But when he's around, he brings in enough money to keep food on the table. You have a roof over your head, you have food... At the cost of your physical safety, sure, but you know... He's there, and things are somewhat better.

But he goes to jail, and your mother spirals out of control. You're taking care of her, and really... Either you're stealing to pay for her drug habit, or she's selling herself to pay for her drug habit, and either way, that's gonna traumatize you, while you're trying to take care of her, because she's barely functional, barely even a person anymore.

But then she dies. And now you're all alone. You are -at best -a twelve year old boy, with no skills, no family, and no legal way of making money. You've got limited options, stealing, begging, or selling yourself (and we'll discuss that more in another post).

You survive this, as a child, for anywhere from a year, to three years. Meaning anywhere from an eighth to a quarter of your life, you spend scrambling to find a meal, scrambling to find some place to sleep, trying desperately to survive just one more day, so you can wake up and do it all over again tomorrow.

Now, most of us know at least one small child, or we've seen them in the store. The average ten year old male is about 50 inches tall. That's 4'2". For context, that's about the height of a hockey net. The height of an adult bike. Slightly shorter than the length of an average park bench. Take a moment, and think about a ten year old in your life. Or look at a picture of yourself at ten.

Think about being that little, that small, and having to take care of yourself while living on the streets. Of surviving a New Jersey winter. Imagine what you have to do, on a daily basis, just to survive. Imagine knowing that one bad day could literally mean you starve to death, or freeze to death, or get beaten by someone you have no hope of stopping. Again, in a best case scenario... this is your life for a single year. If we split for the average, you survive two years of this.

What would it take to survive that? What would it do to a young mind, still developing, still learning and growing, not even a teenager yet?

Guess what? Growing up like this? It doesn't create smol cute adorable beans who are happiness and sunshine personified. It doesn't create kids who never get angry, who are just perpetually happy.

Jason Todd was angry, long before he died, probably long before he became Robin. Anger isn't violent. These two things are not mutually exclusive. I can be angry about people starving, I can be angry about people abusing or neglecting their children, I can be angry about a lot of things, without being violent.

I've noticed a disturbing trend of Red Hood fans, who conflate 'Anger' to 'Violence', and can't seem to separate the two. These are the fans who insist that Jason isn't angry, he was only angry after the Lazarus Pit. (In a probably unrelated note, I've noticed these are the same people who insist that Jason's library is full of nothing but classical era feminist literature).

By saying that Jason's not angry, these people are erasing a big part of his characterization, and his early development. They are, in their own way, just as bad as the people who insist that Jason's just a violent little sociopath who kills just because he can. Neither of these extremes take into account Jason's early home life, growing up with domestic violence, then spending a significant part of his formulative years homeless, struggling to survive, and what that would do to a young mind.

[c0la-queen]

All We Need (Is Each Other) | Eddsworld Roommates x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: Minor violence, alcohol mentions, I know nothing about British life

Word Count: 1.3K

---

You sighed at the feeling of water soaking into the back of your collar. No matter how many times you towel dried your hair after a shower, it still got your shirts wet. The house was fairly quiet, being so empty. The hallway lights were off, and the living room was illuminated by only the TV. You passed through to the kitchen to grab a drink, but paused.

A figure sat on the end of the couch, curled up against the armrest. His hood was pulled over his head, the red material fighting the electronic blue light. His face was turned to the television, but one glance at the mindless infomercial could tell you that he wasn't paying attention. You walked over and leaned on the back of the couch. He didn't notice, which was very uncharacteristic.

"Tord?"

The mention on his name shot his focus to you. He looked startled.

"I didn't realize anyone else was home."

"Clearly. Are you okay?"

His lips pressed together into a flat line. The message was clear. He didn't want to talk about it. A moment of tense silence passed by. One minute, then two.

"Do you want to help me bake?"

"What?"

You pointed back at the bright lights of the kitchen.

"I've got some cupcake mix that I planned to use Sunday. But I think this is a better occasion."

Tord rolled his eyes, as if the mere idea of him baking was the most ridiculous thing ever. Still, he got to his feet and followed you.

---

Edd pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to slam his head into the steering wheel of his car. He had taken a short trip to the grocery store. Literally only twenty minutes to grab some drinks.

Somehow, in those twenty minutes, his friends had managed to start another argument. He watched his notifications exploded with the ring of Discord messages. Usually he was the first to mediate these fights, as was his responsibility as owner of the server. This time, he didn't even have the energy to see what it was about. Instead he sat in the near empty parking lot. He probably looked like a creep, staring at his phone with the car still off.

How were these the same people he met all those years ago? It seemed like the ones he had befriended at that convention were total strangers compared to the pixelated usernames flooding his screen. At the beginning, he loved having online friends. They were fresh faces, people he shared common interests with. That magic faded over time.

At the sight of a DM from one of the friends, he shut his phone off. He threw it in the passenger seat and fumbled for his keys. It was time for a break from them. He'd let them know when he got home.

---

The noise was getting to be too much. Tom gripped his glass tighter. Behind him, two girls that were his "friends" screamed at each other. Everyone else in their group gathered around, either trying to extinguish the flames or build them higher. He sat with a bored indifference. This exact argument had been played out countless times before. The same people, different people, more people, it all ended the same way; a fight, a night in jail, and an ended relationship.

Right on cue, the sound of a slap rang out. More shouting accompanied, more impacts after that. What was it this time? Oh yeah, Blonde Girl #1 slept with Brunette Girl #3's boyfriend. What they didn't know is that Brunette #2 slept with him, too.

He tipped back his glass, downing the rest of his drink. The clear liquid burned as it went down, similar to the string of the slap in the argument. Still silent, he handed his money to the bartender.

As he meandered to the door, he put his hands in his pants pockets. The bartender got involved now, his ringing voice muffled by the closing door. The chill of the night sobered up his senses. Despite the cold, he leaned against the car, awaiting Matt's arrival. After the second minor accident, he promised the others that he'd stop drinking and driving, no matter how little the amount.

He really needed to rethink who he went to the bar with.

---

Matt sighed woefully as he closed up the store. All the other clerks had went home, leaving him with the company of the display mannequins.

He had never felt so... unfulfilled before. It wasn't the job, he loved working the fashion scene. Even if it was in the mall, nothing made him happier than helping other people find their styles.

He traced his hands through the aisles. The fabric sliding through his fingers like water was home. He knew each material, every stitch and thread. What was wrong?

It hit him like a flash. It wasn't the work, it was the people. He loved his coworkers, sure. But they were so immaterial. There was no substance to their interactions. Only "he said, she said", "did you see that guy", and "I can't believe she'd wear that" made up their conversations. It was tiring. After so many years of those hollow friendships, when was too much? Not like he was going to say anything, though. No, he was too much of a people pleaser to do that.

Bag in hand, he waved goodbye to the odd person still closing up shop in the mall. Those interactions were fine. They were direct and simple. "I know you enough to recognize you so I'll give you a basic social courtesy, nothing more." Not small talk wearing a mask of intimacy.

It was fortunate that the bar Tom frequented was right next door to the mall. Carpooling was so much easier when one could just walk across the sidewalk that separated the two parking lots.

Tom eyed his ginger companion.

"You look like shit."

"'I could say the same to you."

Matt glanced over at the commotion by the door, watching two girls being dragged out by police. Tom tossed him they keys.

"You don't wanna know."

The two climbed into their seats and started the journey home. Matt smiled softly into the night.

"Looks like we both need new friends."

---

All three boys pulled into the driveway at the same time. Tom raised an eyebrow at Edd when they got out.

"Where were you?"

He held up the newly bought carton of milk as an answer.

Once inside, they were all hit with the sweet smell of fresh baking.

---

You turned to the kitchen doorway, laughing at the sight of Edd, Tom, and Matt crowded around. They must have smelled the cupcakes and come to investigate. Your assistant had his back turned, too busy applying frosting to see the new arrivals. Edd grinned while pulling out his phone.

"Tord, are you wearing an apron?"

He whipped around, but it was too late. The moment he faced the other three, Edd's camera flashed.

"Delete that right now."

"Not a chance!"

You knew Tord was about to charge, so you held up the pan in your hands. Pot holders served as a barrier between your skin and the metal.

"Hot pan here, please don't fight!"

With a grumble, Tord went back to his task. You could see the faint tint of red on his ears, but decidedly stayed silent.

Matt was practically starry eyed.

"What kind of cupcakes did you bake?"

"They're strawberry! I had a feeling today was a pastry day."

The chorus of nods confirmed the idea. Apparently, they had all had a rough day.

You dusted your hands off after setting the pan on the stove.

"Why don't you guys wash your hands and help Tord out?"

"Frosting these things is surprisingly calming."

[justsomeoneunordinary]

i randomly found your post about casual serbophobia (/post/655276183842406400/) while browsing and oh god i've been in the exact same boat from 5th grade onward, except i'm german and of serbian origin. up until 10th grade lots of my classmates (and kids in my grade in general) were albanian & kosovo-albanian and that really did a number on the development of my social skills. it doesn't help that the 1999 NATO bombing has been completely shoved under the rug and the only mentions you'll ever find of the yugoslav wars over here nowadays is in our social science textbook in the form of an argumentation task on who was in the wrong. sorry for the out-of-nowhere rant, just wanted to tell you that i really relate to what you wrote. it really is tiring, and i hope you're alright

no, no, you're good. and i fully get you. i still vividly remember how in elementary school my kosovo albanian and macedonian classmates would just randomly gang up at me to tell me how kosovo is its own country and how we serbs are evil for not letting it free - and we were like nine years old, i had mostly no idea what was even going on, neither did the other kids, they just parroted what their parents told them, and i was punished for simply being a serb, it was fucking wild. so i grew up thinking we're the bad ones, being ashamed of my heritage, and it really didn't help that a lot of serbs here can be quite bigoted jerks

it took me until well into my mid-twenties to finally wake up from this and realize that hey, that's not normal, and actually, i have nothing to be ashamed of. we have a beautiful and rich culture and i'm going to show it off proudly - а они који то не воле ��у добродошли да попуше курац

what's more difficult is trying to talk about the crimes done against serbs, because most people are more than willing to believe the western media when they paint us as the bad ones', even the ones who usually criticize western media. you point out the nato bombing, and people go "oh, but srebrenica", you point out the ethnic cleansing in kosovo and people don't believe you and go "but srebrenica" while they're at it anyway, you talk about jesnovac and people somehow still go "but srebrenica", which doesn't even make sense considering jesnovac happened decades before!

and look, i am absolutely disgusted by the genocide of bosniaks by serbs, i feel the bile rise up my throat every time i think about it, it was a horrible, inhumane thing that happened, and we absolutely need to talk about it. but it's WILD how any and all ethnically motivated crimes against serbs can be brushed off with "but srebrenica", no matter if they happened before or after, because apparently, ethnical cleansing is fine as long as it's against serbs

or they just shrug any of this off as nationalistic serb propaganda. and it doesn't help that there is a lot of nationalistic bullshit (one of the most difficult parts for me as an adult trying to reconnect with my culture was to learn to differentiate what are nationalistic lies and what's the truth; for the longest time i used to believe western media was right when they talked about kosovo and that my family was in the wrong), and it doesn't help that even in this day and age so many serbs will say that the genocide against bosniaks was necessary because "if we hadn't attacked first, they would've attacked us" (but then again, literally every. single. balkan country denies their own crimes, yet somehow, it's only us serbs they dogpile on), and it doesn't help that the only countries that support us are fucking russia and china, of all countries, and it doesn't help that there are so little trusted sources that talk about what the neo-fascist party albania's is doing in kosovo, so you feel like you're talking against a wall

it's tiering. ppl in real life won't listen, and when you reblog even a sourced post on tumblr about it, no one will look (or point out srebrenica, as if one genocide excuses another). here on tumblr, where ppl seem to inform themselves, the only platform i see talk abt armenia even. nix, nada, nothing when it comes to us. as i said, genocide seems to be ok if it's happening against us "evil, dirty serbs"

serbophobia is well and alive even today, if not quite as bad as it used to be - i at least don't have to worry abt not getting a job bc of my name, unlike my mum or worse, moja baba i deda - and all you can do is ignore the vile words and soldier on with your head held high and celebrate your culture. at least we'll always have each other

anyway, this turned out much longer than i wanted it to be, sorry. i get you - know that i'm mentally hugging you tightly 🫂🫂 и јебеш мајку сваког неуког иди��та ;)