I have personal beef with Lobdell's "hence the name, Red Hood" panel when Jason picks up that poor, abused dog in RH:O. Which logically I know is an off the cuff joke but 1. Lobdell likes to simplify Jason and his motives all the time (which he could’ve been doing here) 2. I’ve seen a lot of people say they don’t get why/the connection/deeper meaning/etc. Jason picked his name or 3. people who want Jason to drop RH & pick up a new vigilante identity without (or before) Jason getting his full circle closure
(First: can Jason please have a companion again. And can they be given a real name this time? Not Lobdell’s lazy out? Give that man another dog or fuxk, let him pick up a cat that was abandoned in the rain. Please???)
anyway, main attraction:
Within that spread, Scott Lobdell wrote that Jason picked the name because he's awful at naming things and went with the most basic, obvious choice, Red Hood. This is an incredible disservice to why Jason chose to take his mantle specifically.
Imagine you're Batman, a fledgling vigilante who abides by a strict no-kill moral code. It's your first or so year manning the streets of a massive, corrupt city--Gotham--and you still aren't fully sure of what you're doing. The criminal underworld still isn't even convinced you're real. One of the first big cases you bust, a man who calls himself the Red Hood, dies. you play accomplice to the man falling into a vat of chemicals even as you try to save him. He dies. You killed a man due to your own mistakes.
But you didn't. Not really.
The man comes back under a new name--the Joker--and becomes one of your most prominent enemies. The guilt eats you alive. You dub him your greatest failure. The guilt complex and strengthened moral platitudes refuse to let him die, let alone kill the man. Only "saving him" will relieve you of the grief. Your guilt, your grief, God, your god complex, something is too big for you to admit you can't save everyone including the problems you inadvertently create.
You take in a boy, a ward--Dick Grayson--because the city won’t let a single bachelor like Brucie Wayne adopt him. You’re his brother, you’re his spandex-wearing partner, you’re not his father (he has a father, he doesn’t want you to be his father) but you’re also not not his father; it’s complicated. You didn't want him to turn into you and he creates his own mantle--Robin--to honor his parents.
You and him are partners for many years--Batman and Robin: The Dynamic Duo. Until, one day, The Joker shoots him in the shoulder and he falls off a building on live TV. The city’s populace is upheaved, believing Robin is dead. Demanding Batman be held responsible for his negligence, for even having a underaged partner in the first place. You agree. The field is no place for a child, you decide to keep him so. Robin, the child, is dead, killed by the Joker. Dick Grayson, now a man, is alive and blazing his own trail--Nightwing.
So one child-to-man moves on. And one stays behind. Weeks, months, pass and, you refuse to admit it, you're lonely.
You find another boy--Jason Todd (found in the same location and on the anniversary your parents were murdered in the part of town you only visit once a year)--stealing your tires. Not Bruce Wayne's tires. Batman's tires. He makes you laugh, audaciously so. He takes you down with a tire jack and, God, he’s fast and feisty. (He thought you were going to kill him. You don’t loiter on the thought: it makes your stomach turn). You track him down to retrieve your tires. He tells you he doesn't want to be a criminal, he takes what he needs to survive. He's starving.
You try to stay out of it (all you do is check what happened to his missing dad--murdered--and sick mom--heroin was what got her in the end). You push him towards education. He doesn't trust the cops. He doesn't trust the system. He doesn't trust adults. He hardly trusts you. He tells you about a case, that the school is bad, but believes you only half listen--brush him off like every other person in his life. You follow up. He follows up.
You ask him to be Robin. He accepts.
Later, you adopt him.
Dick's mad at you for giving away his title without asking, to a child nonetheless. (“You said the field was no place for a child!”) You snap at him, say you missed him. (You keep telling Gordan that Jason's no child. That he's seen too much, is more experienced than either of them combined. You don't say this to Dick).
He leaves but he gives Jason his number and his blessing. The kid's torn up about it, you can tell (see the doubt eat him alive of if he should be wearing those colors. Your butler? Your father?--Alfred--tells you to stop comparing the boys--good or not).
That doubt sticks with him. That past experience sticks with him. He urges you to help the poorer parts of the city, especially the places where Batman only visits once a year (The first time he goes back after getting Jason isn’t as bad as all the times before). He fights for his people. He’s tied to Gotham in ways you aren’t. Sees things you don’t. Knows things you don’t. People who can’t stand you, love him.
You keep hearing him crying over his dead mother and watch him lose it against rapists. He advocated for the woman that killed the man who murdered 12 women including her sister even though Batman and Robin aren’t supposed to endorse extra judicial work like that. He breaks a man’s collarbone for taking pictures of naked children. He thinks the “Dress-ups” won’t ever stop because Batman’s only weapon is fear and they aren’t afraid. He once said life’s a game. Monopoly, Bruce assumes he means.
Drugs are easier than rape to catch a man on, and the boy is furious that the perpetrator is only being sent back to his home country. ("he'll just hurt the women over there! He won't stop!" He's in hysterics).
A young woman is dead. The boy found her body. A man falls to his death a man is pushed to his death is dead. The boy was the last one to be with him. You bench him, but you forget that you asked him to be Robin first and a son second.
He runs away. A birth mom--Shelia Haywood, you eventually learn. He's missing. It has to wait. The Joker's out again. You have to prevent your greatest failure from becoming bigger. (He shot Barbara earlier this year)
You leave the boy with his birth mom by the warehouse. You have to go after the Joker. The Joker has killed and killed and killed. Will continue to kill. The boy is dead. He killed the boy. The mother says he was good. He's nothing more than broken bones and mangled limbs. She's...not.
Your greatest failure murdered your boy. His body’s already getting cold when you find hi—the body. The corpse. You hold it. Because it’s an it now, not a him.
You go after the Joker. The pilot is shot. You don't try to kill the Joker, but you don't bring him with you as you jump. The helicopter crashes. You don't even think he's dead; unresolved as per usual.
You failed to protect him. You failed. And he’s dead.
Superman pulls you from the ocean.
You go home and Alfred meets you once you get off the plane. He tells you it's not your fault, the boy had it coming. The murdered boy--a Good Solider, buried next to his bio-mother in Gotham Cemetery--is dubbed your new biggest failure.
Dick's in space and would miss the funeral, so you decide instead to not tell him there was a funeral at all. At least someone will still think Jason’s alive. At least someone will keep Jason alive through their belief. It’s not like Dick’ll find out. They weren’t that close anyway (Dick & Jason or you & him?)
When Dick does eventually find out, because of course he obviously does, he's furious. It's the first time you punch your first Robin. (You don't know it yet, but it won't be the last time, not for Dick and not for some other so-called family members.)
Robin is dead. Far deader than Dick Grayson ever was. He did it to himself. He thought it was a game. Dick doesn’t get it. He was better. He was alive.
(You can’t admit he’s become your son out loud. Hardly even in your head. It’s fine. Dick is the same about your fatherhood. Like father, like son)
You blame it on Jason's death. It changed you. He changed you. It's his fault. Everyone follows suit.
You leave the Joker in a body cast for six months. He gets out again. Luckily you have a new Robin--Tim Drake. He's not Jason. You can see it in his eyes that he knows that's a good thing. Gotham doesn’t even know the second one is dead. They believe Tim’s second one. Gordan even asked if he’s finally hit his growth spurt. 4’6 the death certificate said. That’s okay. No one needs to knows.
(Park Row Crime Alley knows. They know who’s theirs and who isn’t. Batman and Robin aren’t welcomed down there anymore)
(The first anniversary you visit your parents yours and his first meeting spot after Jason’s death feels like Ethiopia all over again)
A blonde girl is Robin now--Stephanie Brown. You tell her she's like Jason. She can tell you mean it as a bad thing but never processes it through her mind. You're trying to lure Tim back. A city-wide gang war wrecks Gotham. She's dead. Tortured by Black Mask and died on the operation table.
There's talk around the underworld, unified under Black Mask, a new gang leader's been making waves for months. You just heard about him tonight (a duffle bag full of heads told you): The Red Hood. You know that name. It’s a punch to the gut. Your first failure.
(“You’re getting slow, old man!)
He did what you've been trying to do for years in a matter of weeks: He overtook the entire Gotham underworld. He’s running circles around everyone. He pits you against the underground, keeps you busy, and he gets what he needs to be done Scot-Free. You hardly ever see him around. Only when he wants you to see him, do you. You don’t like things you aren’t in control of.
He doesn't want anyone dealing to kids. He likes bombs, but they're contained. Implosions, not explosions. He kills and is on par with Batman himself (he cut himself free of your line). Red Hood hangs around Crime Alley ("Park Row!" Jason would always respond), but no one there will rat him out to The Batman. They won't talk to you. Some of them even seem to...like having the Red Hood around.
He’s managed to bring down the crime rate of the entire city. Somehow.
It's raining. You can't tell. Jason's alive.
Jason's. Alive.
Jason'salivejason'salivejason'salivejason'salivejason'saliveason'salivejason'sal--
Jason's alive.
And he's killing people. And he's spitting in the face of your "sanctimonious" moral code. He laughed at you when he murdered someone in front of you. ("Just be happy I only killed the Nazi!") You tell him he doesn't get it. He responds the same.
(“You can't stop crime," he says along the lines of "Not with fear. But me...I'm controlling it.")
Jason's never had enough fear.
And now he's crying with a gun to his murderer's head. He says he’s not talking about the other rogues, just him. Just the Joker. He throws you a gun. You won't do it--can't do it. You need to save the Joker. To prove that you can. You need to save Jason. To show him this isn't the way. You can't have any more failures.
(“He took me from you!”)
Jason's going to do it himself, he says. "If you want to stop me, you're going to have to shoot me. Right in the face."
You can't let anyone die. You can't let the Joker die. It's your mission. There's so much blood. The batarang had to have had to knick the carotid artery in his neck. No one could survive it. The Joker is cackling with glee. You hear it in the walls of your skull. The bomb goes off. You don’t hear that at all.
Oh God. You killed your so—
You’re still gone, you think
You see Jason on patrol sometimes. High collar and still branding himself as Red Hood. There’s a red bat on his chest now. You don’t think it’s a compliment. The East End loves him. Jason still can't let the Joker go. Can’t—won’t move on.
Not till he's dead he says.
Take a moment to imagine yourself as a fledgling vigilante--Batman.
— — —
Anyway my meta turned into a 2nd POV fic????? but like that's not the point. The point is: That’s the impact of why Jason chose the name he did. It’s important to me that you all recognize these full-circle story beats. Do you see my vision?
Jason planned everything when he made his big debut. You don't think that dramatic-ass bastard thought about the name? Jason is mocking Bruce: both his fears and failures as a vigilante.
But that throwaway line is one of those really minor details that really bug me because it's so easy to throw out a panel and say “Jason's bad at naming things Haha" It's much harder to commit to "show, not tell" where writers have to trust their readers to get between the lines and figure out long-term connections.
As well as it's just another way Lobdell undermines Jason's goals in UtRH by saying "He couldn't think of anything else" compared to Winick's Jason who is laughing and mocking Bruce by taking up the mantle of Red Hood. Showing he's not afraid of what happened to him. Spitting in the face of the world that burned him and yelling “I’m still here!” Owning it. He's not afraid of Bruce. And he's definitely not afraid of the Joker.
I want Jason to get a new identity one day too but to do so before Jason ever gets his joker closure cuts his story short. (Which is a creative way of saying it’s never gonna happen unfortunately). I think if he gets one before he finishes the story and closes the cycle, it would be the final nail in the “Jason’s a batfamily member” coffin as it would probably be written as “Jason seeing the error of his ways” rather than for himself moving on to heal for himself.
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Warning : This post is going to be a very personal rage dump/rant.
There are heavy topics involved, including cancer and death. Also explicit language.
Out of consideration and respect to those of you who would prefer not to read it (since I completely understand why you wouldn’t want to), I will continue under the cut
Also pictures of my dogs, to break up the doom and gloom ^^"
-------------------------
I absolutely despise, loathe, hate toxic people.
Especially when those toxic people are the “wolf in sheep’s clothing” type.
Especially when those people don’t have the fucking balls to confront others directly and just choose to slink about behind the scenes like scummy little vermin.
So… my uncle Joe passed away a few days ago.
It was expected. He had been battling pancreatic cancer, which ended up spreading into his liver and lungs.
With that being said, even though he will be dearly missed, at least he no longer has to suffer.
I was close with my uncle.
In fact, it’s no exaggeration to say that I was much closer to him than I was with my own father (my Dad was a permanent presence in my life up until the day he died, but we had an extremely tumultuous, dysfunctional, volatile, abusive relationship.)
We visited my uncle Joe regularly ever since I was a baby, all the way up until somewhat recently. He spent countless hours at our place throughout the years. He was super close with my parents, doing tons of outdoorsy activities with them. I spent a good amount of my childhood with his family. When his wife passed away, my parents helped him and supported him. He helped us move twice. My Mom took his kids places when she was just dating my Dad. When my Dad passed away, my uncle Joe was there for me without me even having to ask.
Literally everything was good between us, and always has been.
It’s also thanks to my uncle Joe that we gained a new furry member of our family last year, who we named Dandy 💙 my uncle’s dog had puppies, he asked how many we wanted, so we took one lol
(I’ll include a few poor quality pictures because… well, I should probably break up this message with a little “positivity”, right?)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This was Dandy when he was still just a baby, 4 weeks and 3 days old.
Look at the cute little potato 🥹
We visited my uncle Joe every week to see him grow and develop, anxiously waiting until he was old enough to bring home.
And this was the day he finally joined our family ~
Look at how tiny he was compared to my one Black Lab (sorry for the terrible quality picture. Our carpets are old, but I swear they don't look that dingy ^^")
And here's Dandy today, one year and five months later ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Anyway! Back to my rage-fueled rant :
My uncle Joe met someone about a year and a half ago, and she moved in with him pretty quickly.
Which certainly wasn't a bad thing. We were genuinely happy for him.
She seemed very nice, sweet, accepting, kind, receptive, and welcoming.
But for whatever reason, the dynamic changed the moment my uncle fell ill and the control landed in her hands.
Since my uncle Joe was sick, we all mutually decided that it would be best if communication was between my Mom/me and her (we would text her to check in to see how he was doing, as well as find out if/when it was a good time for us to visit)
This is where some inconsistencies started to appear.
For example :
She would tell us not to visit because my uncle was too sick (which was totally understandable!), but then would tell us a few days later how he was doing great and had fishing trips planned all week.
I 100% believed her at the time.
After all, everyone has both good and bad days.
But then when we would visit, my uncle Joe told us how he couldn’t fish anymore because the chemo was causing neuropathy in his hands, and he couldn’t hold his fishing pole or cast/reel the line in.
Though we just assumed he discovered those issues after she told us about those supposed fishing trips.
But the true eye-opener happened during our one visit. My uncle Joe welcomed us into his home, we talked, found out some updates about his health (which was declining), etc. He was open/transparent with us about everything.
When my uncle went to the bathroom during that visit, his girlfriend made the comment “I probably should have told you guys not to come here, since he’s in a lot of pain today.”
Knowing my uncle, I didn’t budge from my seat. I knew that if he wasn’t up for company, he wouldn't hesitate to tell us to leave.
And I’m glad we didn’t leave… because literally 10 minutes later, her granddaughter came waltzing in to visit her.
My uncle came out of the bathroom, sat on the sofa doubled over in pain as he was talking to me and my Mom (at this time, we asked him directly if we should leave, since we knew he was dealing with a lot and we didn't want to overstay our welcome. He told us not to leave, that we could stay because he felt like shit regardless).
But as he was sitting there, clearly in pain, his girlfriend and her granddaughter asked him to get up and carve a watermelon for them instead of doing it themselves.
What sense does that make?
'I should have told you guys to stay away, but I’m gonna make him strain himself and carve a watermelon for us even though he’s already suffering and struggling enough'
…. Okay. Fuck you too.
We obviously didn’t say anything. We just visited for a little while longer, then left with a friendly/cordial “goodbye, nice to see you again” to her and her granddaughter, told my uncle that we would be thinking about him and see him again, and wished them a good day.
Two and a half months passed before we heard from them again.
Why? Because she refused to answer our numerous calls and texts.
She deliberately ignored us, which actively prevented us from having an opportunity to see my uncle.
And she knew damn well that we wouldn’t just show up at my uncle’s house unannounced because we didn’t want to disturb him if he wasn’t feeling up for company.
We only got in contact with him again after he directly called our phone and left a message saying “hey, just checking in. I hope you’re both doing okay, since I haven’t heard from either of you in a while. Stop by when you can”.
So we went to his house.
When we explained the situation to my uncle Joe/passive aggressively confronted his girlfriend, her excuse was “oh, sorry. The reception here is bad so my phone was probably just acting up.”
For two and a half months?
Even though she was literally using her phone in front of us, which appeared to be working perfectly fine?
Even though she’s always on her phone every time we see her?
Even though she could have reached out to us, yet chose not to? Not even once in two and a half months??
I call bullshit.
My Mom even told her that she was on the verge of sending a text that said “okay, cunt.” since we thought she was ignoring us after not responding to our multiple texts/calls.
We all laughed it off as a joke, Joe's girlfriend even said “hahaha, I probably would have laughed if I got a text like that!” … but it most certainly was not a joke.
(My Mom is extremely outspoken and normally doesn’t hold back, especially when it counts. She’s the type of person you either love or hate, but she’s definitely one of a kind and the perfect example of a strong, independent woman who gives zero fucks lol)
Anyway, that visit went well. We behaved like usual, talked to both my uncle and his girlfriend normally, caught up on stuff, etc.
After that interaction, his girlfriend miraculously responded to every single call and text (bad reception, huh? Funny how she had zero service issues after we called her out in front of my uncle)
But basically every time we talked with her, she would say “it’s not a good time to come by, he’s really sick.”
And we would always respond with things like “we totally understand”, “thank you so much for letting us know”, “we wish there was something we could do to help”, “we’re here for you if you ever need anything or anyone to talk to since we know this also isn’t easy for you”, “we’ll check in next weekend”, “please take care of yourself”, “we’ll be thinking about you”, etc.
Then finally, my uncle Joe told us to stop up again two weeks ago. So we did.
He was extremely sick and remained in bed, but we said hello and he told us that we are more than welcome there and we could just visit with his girlfriend. So we did. The visit remained cordial and friendly.
The next day, my uncle called and apologized for not getting up when we were there.
We immediately told him that he has absolutely no reason to be sorry, that we completely and wholeheartedly understand, that we would understand even if he told us to leave the moment we arrived, and that we were keeping him in our thoughts.
The week after that, his girlfriend said he was too sick for company (which again, we obviously understood and thanked her for letting us know, wished them the best, etc).
We didn’t visit my uncle Joe after that. He passed away before we had another opportunity to see him.
Now, here’s where my anger starts to come into play :
His girlfriend didn’t let us know when he passed away.
We found out from my other uncle, Mike, two days later. (My Dad had 3 brothers. His eldest brother is my uncle Joe who just passed away. His youngest brother is my uncle Mike who let us know what happened.)
So my Mom called her and offered her condolences, asked how she was doing, told her that we’re here for her, and asked about the arrangements. My Mom also told her that Mike was the one who let us know about Joe.
She made the comment “there’s going to be a small ceremony, but only for immediate family.”
Which didn’t make sense to me or my Mom. We were both very close with my uncle Joe, we are family. So that comment seemed a bit… off?
But we dismissed it and instead talked to my uncle Mike.
We asked him to please keep us updated, since we wanted to pay our respects to my uncle Joe and our family.
Well… I don’t know what the Hell that lady said to my cousin (Joe’s son), but he told my uncle Mike not to tell us anything else.
That snake in the grass obviously ran back and told my cousin that we found out about Joe’s passing from Mike.
But uhh... We deserved to know.
Now, we literally just found out this morning that the ceremony was held yesterday. We weren't invited (the day/time wasn't publicly announced).
We were excluded. We were denied the opportunity to say our final goodbye.
I blame his girlfriend. Completely and entirely.
I especially find it super interesting that she didn’t attend the ceremony either… almost like she was afraid that we might possibly show up and confront her (which we would never do, purely out of respect for my uncle Joe)
When my uncle Mike told us, he apologized. But we told him that we don’t blame him, since we certainly didn’t want to put him in the middle of it.
It just pisses me the fuck off.
Bad enough she actively prevented us from seeing my uncle Joe, even on his “good” days. But then to keep us away from the ceremony too?
And she HAD to have fed my cousin a bunch of lies and bullshit to cause him to tell my uncle Mike not to inform us of anything. (Luckily for us, my uncle Mike loves to talk so he didn’t mind spilling the tea. He just felt guilty for not doing so sooner. But I understand why he waited, and I hold zero animosity towards him)
It’s especially confusing and upsetting since we always remained on good terms with all of my cousins.
We saw my cousins regularly, got along well with them, joked around with them.
Literally nothing that we did or didn’t do would warrant such a reaction from them.
If there was any fault on our end, I certainly wouldn’t be angry about this situation or waste my time typing this up. (I'm not the type of person who plays the victim, I admit when I'm wrong and own up to my faults/wrongdoings. That just isn't the case here.)
So it’s seriously a mystery to me… which is why I blame my uncle Joe’s girlfriend.
Absolutely nothing changed in the decades of knowing my uncle and his kids. Literally the only recent change was her coming into the picture.
(I also want blame my cousin, since he’s older than me and has a mind of his own… but I also know that he’s grieving the loss of his father, so I feel like that bitch took advantage of the situation to say whatever she wanted about us while my cousin is vulnerable and not thinking clearly/properly).
Regardless of the finer details…. I am absolutely livid.
It’s like a giant “fuck you” to us, like we aren’t good enough, like our feelings don’t matter.
And that pisses me off beyond belief.
I’m debating whether or not I should confront her.
On one hand, I probably should just let it go and move on.
But on the other hand… I want to play dumb, call her, and be like “How are you doing? Do you know when the ceremony is?“ just to see what she says.
And then tell her to go fuck herself.
Is that immature of me? Sure.
But I’m angry. Annoyed. Irritated. Fuming. My rage is boiling, my wrath is building. And I feel like exploding.
Needless to say… my Mom was right. That lady is a cunt. A toxic, festering, diabolical, oozing, gaping, pungent cunt.
If you’ve read up to this point, I genuinely apologize for dumping all of this off here.
I just needed to vent a bit.
I also owe everyone who has tagged me a HUGE thank you. You have all given me a much needed distraction from everything, plus I genuinely love being tagged.
So I will absolutely start posting/replying to those a little later (I've already started on them and have them saved in my drafts, I just want to finish them all and post everything at once lol)
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