#people are up in arms as if we're calling him a pathetic worthless nothing who has no right to be traumatized. these are not the same things

[roobylavender]

there’s a subsection of jason fans who will say every possible thing to justify his choices and infantilize him bc they don’t want to think about the potential for him to get better and it just baffles me like what do we gain from this. it’s not ableist to say that relying on the idea of killing people per his own judgment is not a good way to process his trauma 

#looking at the responses to oomf's posts is bizarre like anyone says the red hood identity is inherently not healthy and all of a sudden #people are up in arms as if we're calling him a pathetic worthless nothing who has no right to be traumatized. these are not the same things #not remotely. of course there are stories where people are unable to process their trauma #but i don't think it's inherently ableist to want jason to be able to process his trauma healthily and without relying on killing #esp when keeping him killing more or less keeps him stuck in narrative. he has to be challenged as a character at some point #to be deleted

[cursedfortune]

Back at that house. The house he had long left behind to rot in the hellhole it was once erected. He was small, smaller than he ever remembered being. Tremors shook his vision and wobbled his careful steps. Quiet. Be very. Quiet. You can't make a sound or /she/ would be very upset. One step. Another. Fingers crawled along his neck. He froze. "What are you doing inside?"

"I uh uh I had to..."

He was slapped across the face hard enough to throw him to the ground and crack his head on the hardwood floor. He didn't look at her. He couldn't look at her. She was an amalgamation. A ghost.

"Be silent! You we're shirking your duties no doubt! Lazy boy! Or are you even a boy? I can hardly tell with how pathetic you are. I take you in when your whore mother didn't want you and this is the thanks I get? I never should have let you stay here you worthless bastard."

Suddenly hands begun to burst from the floor around him and latch onto his limbs one after another. And then his whole body. He screamed. Jonathan shrieked and tugged and pulled with all his might but, it did nothing.

"You fail to listen to the teachings of God. I doubt even the devil will have a use for you, but I guess you'll figure that out won't you? Go to hell where you belong, you beast."

"Grandma no!" He cried. "No! Please no! I'll be good! I'll be good!" He sobbed pitifully trying to reach for her shadow as he decended, even as that shadow turned into a rotting, maggot filled corpse before his very eyes and laughed in his face with the voices of thousands.

@iambecomefear

Jon was in a mood today. More closed off, curt - mostly kept himself away from her. No work, barely ate, barely communicated. It was fine because he was entitled to his days as she was hers. There were a hundred different reasons why any of this could be happening, for the most part all of them would be valid.

But now it was night and she could hear him, screaming from his bedroom. Nightmares weren't something new, certainly. But this was different. It woke her up so easily and compelled the witch to get up and check on him - something she wouldn't have done any other night, given how closed off he could be with his own vulnerabilities. Ain't that just the way, coming from a man who sought to learn peoples fears?

Swiftly the witch moved down the corridor and quietly checked his door, finding it unlocked. Thankfully. Easing her way inside she approached his bed, watching his fitful slumber with concern. How he screamed and cried out - like a child being harmed. This was no mere nightmare. She could hear it in his soul, the disruption and unstable energy - whatever he was experiencing came from somewhere deep within.

Mortem sat upon the edge of his bed and gently laid a hand upon his arm, stroking repetitively with a squeeze intermingled within. Naturally he hardly budged. Both her arms took his, more firmly she tried to reach out to him - but not just with her hands alone. A flicker of her energy sought his, attempted to harmonize just enough to soothe him out of the nightmare and into the waking world. Break this dream that trapped him by giving him an out - shake his mind enough to transition and open up a means for him to wake.

"Jon." The witch called softly, as to not alarm him. His name fell from her lips, a soothing chant as she lifted a hand to pet back his damp hair. "Everything is okay, Jon." She promised. How strange it was to see him so vulnerable. So unlike the doctor who kept himself under lock and key, ever controlled in his every waking action.

All the more reason why he should, "Wake up. Come back to me, Jon. It's safe here."

#iambecomefear #asks #so it begins my friends B)