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    31 May 2026

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    17 May 2026

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    For as long as Jason can remember back, he’s known that he has something other and magical running through his veins.

    He doesn’t remember much of his father, but he remembers his mother cradling his cheeks and telling him he has Willis Todd’s eyes, his eyes and his gift; something sacred that he must always keep close to his heart, because magic is rare, magic is for special people, people destined for something great. It’s a spark in his blood, a thrum under his pulse, and no matter how much he hates it, it’s all his.

    Except, he’s all its, too. And when Jason dies, his magic doesn’t let him go.

    It takes a clown, a crowbar and a bomb for him to figure that out. And then– well. Only way to go from a grave is up, right?

    Or, the one where Jason is semi-immortal and decides to make it everyone else’s problem. Also, there are shadow demons and magical threats and mystical monks, sometimes. He deals with them and– runs a crime empire on the side, or something.

    Shit only really starts going awry when the Bats show up.

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    13 May 2026

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    He was neither a saint nor an angel, leaving behind a legacy that reeked of death. After all, he had been the monster in the shadowing alleyways, the villain in the hushed whispers told amongst the city's inhabitants.

    Red Hood was no hero.

    ...
     
    Jason may have ceased his lethal methods of jurisdiction in Gotham these days, opting instead to keep to himself as Red Hood in Crime Alley, but that didn't mean his relationship with the Bats was good. It was tentative on the best days, practically nonexistent on the worst. But when the Joker kidnaps Red Robin and no one tells Jason, he’s left with no choice but to break the only rule he had to follow: no more killing. He once swore to Bruce that there would be no more dead Robins and after tonight, he was going to make good on his promise, one last time.

    No more dead Robins, only dead clowns.

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    10 May 2026