Ghosts Tell Me
~
Ghosts gather near the place where something bad is going to happen,
Danny with his ghost sense tends to notice before anyone else and tends to react outwardly before the danger even happens, gaining a reputation of seeing the future,
Ghosts also tell Danny things, causing Danny to know more about situations and the people around him, it comes of as suspicious.
~
Danny pulling away a snack from his coworker: "Careful your allergic to these ingredients!"
Coworker: "How the hell...I've never mentioned that to anyone."
~
Danny on a phone call with his friends while doing his nightly walks in Gotham: "Yeah so apparently the second Robin who is now Red Hood has very personal beef with the clown here cuz he got killed by him after being sold out by his bio mom, which really sucks for the poor guy."
Oracle who has been keeping an Eye on Danny cuz he's very suspicious from an outsiders pov: "Hey B, I think we have a problem."
~
Danny notices that the ghost in Gotham tends to gather where something bad is going to happen, the more they are the worse the situation will be: *glowing smoke leaves from his mouth* "Yikes! Very bad vibes here, nope!"
Gothamites who at this point recognize him and know the drill and quickly pack up their things to leave:
~
Just an Idea
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Idk who needs to hear this, but in the event Jinx and Viktor do partner up, Jinx is the more normal one of the two. Imo people in Zaun LIKE Jinx better than Viktor. Viktor's association with Jinx alone is damage control for his reputation.
If you think about it for even 10 seconds, you'd see how Viktor is just an offputting dude. Yeah Jinx has volatile outbursts of destruction, but that's concentrated at specific people and at Piltover. Jinx isn't out here performing strange feats of blood magic that turns innocent bystanders (Sky) to dust. Jinx dealing with hextech recognizes it's dangerous (it connects to the realm of Heebie Jeebies) and is hesitant with it. Viktor knows he doesn't know what he's doing and just keeps going. That's worse, that's so much more dangerous.
You could say that Viktor's well-meaning and eventually develops a cult following from it. But one, Jinx has a cult too, and it's more successful (they steal real estate). Two, Viktor's time in Piltover has really skewed what needs to be done. At best, as a part of the hextech duo, Viktor might have improved workplace safety with his inventions, maybe, but not really. He wants to help Zaun, but he's lost the plot in the frenzy of Piltover's trade expansion.
Ironically, Jinx almost certainly has a better handle on understanding Zaun's politics and issues than Viktor ever did. Jinx spent her formative years at the top of Zaun's hierarchy while being raised by the defacto kingpen/political leader and actively enforced Silco's regime as well. So Jinx knows who and what's up in Zaun because she kind of made it happen, lol.
Tldr: Between Viktor and Jinx, Jinx is the more charismatic and likable figure to Zaunites. Take a step back and notice how Viktor is an extra level of weird compared to Jinx.
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what are your thoughts on separate ways? i mean i am a little upset idk why but i read comments about how they are making Ada and Leon not canon this makes me feel ill lmaaaooo I dont think capcom would be that dumb right? Ada x Leon is the only couple I care on this game
My beloved anon please don't feel ill, I know reading so many negative comments can be very stressful but nothing has changed at all. First of all, Ada x Leon never really got to become canon in the og timeline. If it's about killing the ship, then Capcom's been silently killing both Ada and Aeon the moment they chose to never continue Leon and Ada's story after RE6 until this day, making 0 mention of Ada in the cgi movies they've made after that game either. If anything, the remakes brought Ada and Aeon back to life again. Do you think they'd have ever considered including Ada in RE8 if it wasn't because RE2R was a success?
Second, I don't see why there's so much surprise and disappointment that the new SW isn't similar to the og. Remake Ada was already different from the original so the DLC has to make sense with RE4r and RE2r, which it did. And speaking of the way both RE4/SW end, I love how in the new one Ada does not point a gun to Leon's head to retrieve the amber, asks him if he wants to go with her and disobeys Wesker's orders right in front of our eyes (bonus points for the fact they included the "one more kiss" ost, and for the way Leon looks at the keychain and says "cute"). Beauty's in the little details lmao
And third, we could've had a DLC full of Aeon, and still it'd be worth nothing if in ten years from now the people in charge of remaking re6 suddenly chose they don't like it anymore, you know? so it's better to start praying the opposite happens. If there's something I've learn from shipping is that having the upper hand during the first half (and even longer) of the story secures nothing, so maybe it for the best that stuff seems more toned down this time.
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★ - sad headcanon for Dream!
(playing to the strengths of the angst king, perhaps >:) )
Ohohoho you picked a good one for me lmao
I could reiterate the headcanon I sent in the server a few days ago (about Dream having trauma from being watched and never being able to feel like he's really alone, even in the Dreaming) but you've already heard that, so I'll pick a new (ish) one. Adding a cut and warning for graphic depictions of violence, major character death, heavy angst, comic spoilers, and my late-night attempt to make the comics worse than they already were in terms of... well, everything lmao. Proceed with caution!
Sad Headcanon:
This isn’t a sad headcanon about Dream specifically, more of a Dreamling sad headcanon, and I’ve made a post about this specific idea before (which can be found here!) so you’ll have to forgive me for bending the rules slightly but here goes:
There is something off, Dream thinks, walking next to his sister. Her usually cheery demeanor is subdued slightly, as if viewing her through a screen door; the outline of her is there, but the details feel fuzzy. When he asks her how she is keeping, he means it. He is concerned. She assures him that she is keeping well, or as well as she can, given her function, and he accepts it. He expects the conversation to be dropped. Or, at the very least, he expects the conversation to move on, and her odd mood with it. Sunlight and humanity have always cheered her up and he does not think today will be any different.
And then he asks about his pet project, Hob Gadling. He is curious, after all, to see how Hob is keeping, especially after their missed meeting. Have you seen him? He asks, and does not miss the way Death has tensed beside him, nor the way her step falters, a minute and monumental waver. He feels his brow crease.
I have, she says, and there is something in her voice that does not sit well, in a way even a century of imprisonment could not match. He can feel his fingers twitch at his sides, the full extent of human reaction he will allow himself, and waits for elaboration.
He asked to see me, she says, and Dream stops short. In the middle of the street, bright sun glaring down through overarching leaves, surrounded and untouched by humanity, the meaning of her words dawn on him like a waxing moon. Dream stops short. His breath, unnecessary and painful, comes in short bursts and Death's mournful eyes scrape like twin razors against his raw heart.
It was my fault, he says, somehow. He forces the words from between numb lips, somehow. Death's eyes soften, somehow. Somehow, it is worse. Just another thing he has lost while imprisoned. Just another thing crumbling in his hands, crushed under the weight of his pride and stupidity.
It wasn't just you, she says, and he does not believe her. Had he asked for help, had he plucked up the courage to be able to trust again, this would not have happened. If he had been able to place faith in Death, or in Alex, or in Burgess, Hob would still be alive. The thought almost sends him to his knees and he realizes that the keening noise in his ears is escaping from behind his own teeth.
Oh, Dream, I'm so sorry, she says, and he believes her. It does not help. How could she? How could she do that to him, knowing their history? How could she have submitted so easily to the whims of a simple, stupid human? He does not realize he is speaking aloud until she answers.
I am as bound to my function as you are, brother, she says, and her voice is soft, understanding. I could no more deny him my gift than you could deny him yours. Nor any human. She is nicer than he is. He has always known that. He suddenly wishes, selfishly, that she were not. If she had been as cruel as some had accused Dream of being, Hob would still be alive. The thought is no less agonizing the second time.
A raven, he gasps, desperation coloring his essence. He should've become my raven. They were mortals, once. Tell me you left him in my realm. He was mine in life, surely you have bestowed him upon me in death as well. He knows it is hopeless even as he says it. The ache in her eyes is answer enough. The anguish infused in every line of her body as she sinks down in front of him (when had he collapsed? He cannot remember) is a needless confirmation.
You are the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is you, she says, and he wishes he could close his ears, wishes he could block out the words he knows to be true, wishes he could stop her from speaking the truth he knows she will speak, she will always speak. With you gone, there was no realm to leave him in. He has crossed to the Sunless Lands, Dream. I'm sorry.
If she suddenly finds herself kneeling next to a pile of sand, she is kind enough not to mention it the next time she sees him. Indeed, the next time they find each other, she simply sits by his side, a comforting presence in the middle of one of the Dreaming's most comforting dreams. Fiddler's Green, newly restored, seems to tremble at the sight of her, of them, sitting together, nearly touching. Dream's gaze is held by his hands, bloody up to the elbows. It would make him sick to his stomach if he could feel anything, but he can't. There is only a numbness, deep in his soul, an exhaustion that all the rest in the world would not be able to touch.
What happened, Dream? She asks, without a shred of judgement. As if she does not know. As if she wants to hear it from his lips. They sit in silence; he does not know for how long. Too long, perhaps, but she has always indulged him. She has always made special exceptions for him.
I killed her, he says, quiet and sullen. I spilled family blood. Even when Lucienne tried to stop me, even when Unity revealed her bloodline. It did not matter. Or perhaps it did. I killed her anyway.
Just a few paces away, the body of Rose Walker is sprawled on the grass, staining the blades underneath her a tacky, child's-mind red. Where her chest had been now sits a cavity, caved in and empty, her very heart torn, still beating, from her breast. Her blood stains his fingernails because he lets it. He does not care to clean himself. He does not care to tidy his realm. He does not care.
You know what the Kindly Ones will do, Death says. It is a statement of fact. It is as immutable as Destiny's own book. He knows this. He had known this. He had not cared. He still does not.
Yes, he says, because he thinks he should respond. There is nothing more to be said. They sit in silence, listening to the last somber notes of his realm ring out, the easy swish of leaves, the gentle rushing of water, the birdsong from the trees. The air is still around them; he is not sure he could stand, or walk, or even move, even if he tried. He does not try. He simply sits. He simply waits.
Dream? Give me your hand, she says, and with a minute and monumental waver, he does. The last thing he feels in the warmth of her skin against his, a familiar presence at his side, and a warm smile. The very gifts that had been offered to Hob Gadling a decade before. Gifts given, gifts accepted. And with a flash of light, Dream of the Endless accepts.
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