the “wait why are we running??” instinct must be nonexistent in Gotham. you see someone running from some shit and suddenly everyone’s sprinting, no questions asked, no second opinion needed.

Given that there's a whole Shen Jiu specific part of the fandom, it baffles me that tianjiu isn't more popular. Like this man's entire type is 'emotionally repressed beautiful cultivator' and you think he wouldn't take one look at shen jiu and crank up the seduction to twelve.

And Shen Jiu who has abandonment issues on top of his showing healthy affection issues, wouldn't look at an extremely clingy, freely affectionate demon and reluctantly see him as a light in the darkness.

Like I blame qijiu for being such a 'fated soulmates' couple but I love the tianjiu dynamic. Or zhujiu but tbh I like zhuzhi-lang for shen yuan a lot more.

Give the man a dorky demon husband, he deserves it.

(Also Shen Jiu affection perfectly lines up with traditional demon affection so I feel like he'd just have a small trail of accidentally seduced demons trailing behind him and we need to capitalise off that more as a fandom)

^THIS

i love those weirdos together

the attempted exorcism of the exorcist

and ofc he makes himself heavier at first, just to mess w his bird a little ✨

Hold up, Let the man Cook. He's on to something.

bodyguard duty is harder than Gallagher expected

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 5 - I Finally Finished the 2.2 Main Quest Edition

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 6]

"Is darkness equal to daylight? Are sinners equal to the righteous? If you are born weak, which god should you turn to for solace?"

Found a sick or injured pigeon? heres what to do (and not to do):

Do not:

*taps mic*

Would.

he loves to hate him

people say the Brucie Wayne persona isn’t believable but if I caught Bruce Wayne drunkenly lying under a desk in an office he shouldn’t have access to with a ream of secure documents and he replied to my “Mr. Wayne?” with “Mr. Wayne was my father—oh god, my father” and then started sobbing, I would 100% back away and leave him alone. like that shit would work on me every time.

Batman gives each of his Robins a different code to use when they’re in trouble and need immediate extraction. He promises that when they call, he’ll drop everything just to get to them, come hell or high water.

Jason, during his time with the League, shares his code with Damian, to be used “only in the direst of circumstances, when you have exhausted all other options.” He doesn’t know if Bruce will answer, given how fractured their relationship was before he died, but it is better than nothing. Every tool counts when they live such dangerous lives.

Damian uses it exactly once, and Bruce, who still feels the loss of his son like a yawning chasm in his chest, responds to it even though he knows it can’t be Jason because Jason’s dead. What he finds, instead of Jason, is a boy in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-small feet, with a face that Bruce sees himself and Talia in, requesting asylum from a grandfather who wishes to possess his body. Bruce doesn’t question how this boy who is so clearly his son knew the code. Talia al Ghul is resourceful and places family above all; the code is not beyond her abilities to discover, and she is not above using Bruce’s desperate love for his dead son to ensure that hers does not meet the same fate.

Bruce takes Damian in, because of course he does, and since Jason is dead he allows Damian to keep using the code. After all, it’s not like Jason is alive to use it, right? If someone uses the code, there’s no one it could be but Damian, right?

The next time the code is used, Bruce traces the location to Gotham even though Damian was supposed to be in Bludhaven visiting Dick. But whatever happened that resulted in Damian being in Gotham can wait, because he has already failed one son and he will not fail another, his son is in trouble and he needs to get to him, he needs to—

What he finds, instead of Damian, is a boy (just eighteen, too young, but also too old, but also he will always be a boy to him) in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-large feet (when had he gotten so big), wearing the face of his dead son.

(Who, maybe, just maybe, may no longer be so dead.)

Respect your elder (dragon)s

That's his dad...