Headcanon #337

Emodrien is selectively mute

Joel stared into his reflection, trying his damned hardest to focus. His eyes looked the same as they usually did. Or what was now the usual. Cold, sullen, tired. He looked like he'd have the life taken from him before being brutally, and cruelly, shoved back into him several times.

His hair was still shoulder height and brown with the iconic green streak. His irises were also still brown—more amber—but his pupils seemed dilated. He could hardly see them unless he looked closer and he didn't feel like he could do that right now.

A sigh slipped past his lips at the sight. He frowned, holding his hand over his eyes. Maybe he just needed to accept that this was the way things were now. That it was too late for him to change again. He was gone so who else would be there to save him from himself?

Well it was too late to do anything either way. Grian was gone, Xelqua was back and Joel was left to fend for himself again. That's how it'd always been. A constant cycle of love and hate and pain and he never tried to find a way out of it.

Why would he? This was fine. He wiped his hand over his face, looking back into the mirror. He stumbled back, confused. He had changed in almost an instant. His beard was gone now, no stubble left. He rubbed his pointer finger across his chin, feeling irked at the unfamiliar—and yet still somehow familiar—smooth feeling.

His eyes weren't that much different than how they were before. They were a deeper brown though, closer to the color of dirt maybe. But they held life to them, something his previous appearance could never manage. At least not now.

He looked younger, somehow, too. His hair was shorter, no longer meeting his shoulders. He ran his fingers through it with confusion. What happened while he looked away? It hadn't been that long. Had it?

This face looked so familiar but he couldn't place his finger on it. He knew it somewhere, he knew it. But he wasn't sure what. He felt powerful now.

The lights flickered, distracting Joel from his reflection. He looked up, staring at them. He blinked the harsh light away, rubbing his eyes before looking back into the mirror.

He wasn't as surprised this time but it did still catch him off guard. His beard had somehow grown out, longer than it had been before. His eyes were more yellow now too. He stared into them, confused. His hair reached past his shoulders. He ran his fingers through his beard with a sigh.

It felt familiar and also not at the same time. He couldn't pinpoint where exactly he remembered the soft feeling from. All he knew was that it was now left in the past. He felt oddly weak yet powerful at the same time.

He felt like he could take down a God in one second but also felt like his confidence could shatter at any point. He moved his hands to hold onto the sink, clutching it for stability. He needed stability, he felt like he was spiraling.

Joel stared down into the sink, now focused on the dripping of the water rather than his face. He felt like he was going crazy. Drip, drip, drip went the water. He counted it until he felt like that was driving him mad. He looked back up into the mirror which only added more to that feeling.

His eyes were red. Bright red. It reminded him of terrible things but he tried to shrug it off. He leaned in, staring into his own eyes. His hair was even longer than it had been before, his beard too. The green streak had been replaced with red. Everything was red.

That was what pushed him closer to his breaking point. Why was it all red? He tried to ignore the whispering voices that began to creep into the back of his mind. He stared, wide eyed, holding onto the edge of the sink even tighter than he previously had. He needed the stability desperately, he felt like his knees would give out at any second.

The whispering turned into yelling. His sight was blurry, he couldn't focus. Why couldn't he focus? Why were they yelling at him? What did he do?

A noise outside the door grabbed his attention away. His whole body relaxed as the yelling slowly turned back into whispering before eventually leaving his mind to rest. He looked at where the noise had come from for a few seconds longer, waiting for another sound. There was nothing.

Joel hesitantly turned his head back around. He recognized this face. Barely. It has been a long time since he laid his eyes on it. Brown, soft, lively eyes. Shorter hair. This face was familiar enough to bring a smile to his face.

He reached a shaky hand up to cup his own face. This was nice. Nicest it had been since this whole ordeal had begun. It brought him back to older times. Perhaps at the beginning of this world. The times where they just had fun. When everyone were friends.

When everyone was happy. A lot of things have changed since then. He dropped his hand back to the counter, holding back tears. He shouldn't have thought of that. Times have changed and everyone else has too. They would never go back.

He barely missed it as he changed back. Back into the face that was all too familiar. A tired face. A person who looked like they had given up on it all. He sighed, wishing that everything would just go back.

He knew that it wouldn't happen. He knew that it never could and that it was a selfish thought but he just wished that it would. That everyone could be happy again. He'd do anything to get that.

As he stared into his eyes, he watched as they turned red again. He was confused but he didn't try to stop it. He didn't try to stop as the yelling voices invaded his mind again, yelling at him to do something. He didn't care anymore.

Joel woke up, unblinking and staring at the ceiling. He sat up and looked around, running his hands over his blanket. He needed to feel something in order to ground himself. He took deep breaths before sighing and getting out of his bed. He walked to the kitchen, stumbling every so often.

When he finally reached his destination he hummed. He crouched down near a random chest and opened it, grabbing out some food. He retrieved an apple, some bread and water? The last object confused him but he didn't pay much mind to it as he sat down on the floor.

Joel bit into the apple with a bit of concern as he realizes he tasted basically nothing. He frowned but shrugged it off again as he took a bite out of the bread. Once again with no taste. He washed it down with water then stood up. He placed the items on the counter.

He walked over to the couch and sat down, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against it. He hummed as Buddy jumped up onto the seat next to him before clambering over to his lap. Joel raised a hand, patting Buddy on the head and smiling as the cat began to purr.

Joel began to wonder what he had done yesterday. Nothing? Maybe? He can't remember. Ever since everything it felt like he was just in a cycle. Nightmare, wake up, eat, go outside, go to sleep and it just repeats. He rubbed his head with his palm, sighing again.

He hoped that everything would just go back to normal and he wished for it to happen soon.

part 2 of my pining falin agenda aka I STAND WITH MARCILLE THAT DRESS WAS CUNT

part 1

(ID in alt text)

Prompt 271

“Grandmother is visiting,” Damian suddenly said with no warning and with his usual not-quite demanding tone. 

“Who?” Tim wasn’t the only one to startle, seeing as Bruce had practically froze, a downturn to his lips in a silent show of confusion. 

Damian scowled. “Are you deaf Drake? Grandmother is coming to Gotham to, quote, make sure I am being properly cared for.” None of them had known that Ras was with anyone actually. At least Tim was pretty sure that would have been in the files. 

“Oh?” Dick didn’t quite crouch to Damian’s height but it was a near thing. “She-” “He,” Damian corrected, interrupting him. They all exchanged a glance before Dick continued. 

“Is he coming to the Manor or…” 

Damian scoffed again, a tiny bit of a flush against his face. “No, Grandmother will most likely be staying with Akhi-”

Now wait one moment-

“YOU HAVE ANOTHER BROTHER?!” 

Elvish

JASON TODD didn't want a dog. He lived in an apartment with you, with one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a living room that looked like the furniture decorated in it would fall apart at any moment.

But one day, he comes home to you, sleeping in your bed with a little bull mastiff puppy on his side of the bed. He stares at the dog for a few moments, before going to take off his Red Hood outfit, as though that would make the situation disappear. When he comes back, the dog was still there. Of course.

Gently, Jason shakes you awake, giving you a pointed look. "Got anything you want to share with me, babe?" He asks, eyes trailing down to the dog, still asleep on the bed. A sheepish smile crosses your face. "I can explain?" You say, though it comes out more like a question. "I was volunteering at the animal shelter and found him. He didn't like being with the other dogs in cage but they didn't have enough space to isolate him." "So you thought the best plan was to bring home a dog that can grow to be 150 pounds?" I scoffs lightly. "No, no! I'm fostering him. Just for a little bit," You say quickly. "I thought since he's still a puppy he would be adopted quickly, right? So we won't have to make space for when he gets that big." Jason lets out a soft sigh and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before speaking again. "You're too good," He murmurs softly. You smile up at him and return the kiss onto his cheek. After a few moments, Jason clears his throat and looks down at the puppy, still sprawled out onto his side of the bed. "So where am I going to sleep?" ... JASON TODD sucks at being a foster. He's terrible, horrible, even. If you were to look up 'How to not foster a dog', they would just show his face. It wasn't that he neglected the dog. He could never. He took him out on runs, fed him good food, washed him, played with him. Everything a dog owner could do. No, the reason Jason was so bad was because his first ever foster dog turned out to be a foster failure. Every time someone came by interested in adopting the puppy, Jason would be in your ear, whispering to you that it didn't seem like they knew what they were doing, or that the puppy wouldn't like living with them. Every. Single. Time.

It wasn't till the three month mark of fostering the pup, having moved to a more spacious apartment, that Jason popped the question.

"You know," He starts suddenly while the two of you were on the couch, eating Chinese take out with the dog resting on the floor nearby. "No one here seems to be right for Buster." Buster, his name for the dog. He's used it so much he actually started responding to it. "There's someone, I'm sure," You counter, taking a bite of your food. "I know there is," Jason counters. Just as you open your mouth to tell him that makes no sense, he cuts you off. "Us. We're right for Buster." "Think," He says, reaching out to grip your hand. "For three months, we've had him, we've moved with him. He has his spot in the bed, we've worked him into our schedule. He's happy. Why ruin that?" "So you want to adopt him?" You ask, making sure you understood just exactly what he was saying. It felt too good to be true. "Yeah, I do," He says with a small smile. As soon as he finishes speaking you practically lung at him, tackling him into a hug while whispering small 'thank you's. The action makes Buster jump up and want to join in on whatever is going on, leaping onto the couch and sniffing at the two of you, his massive head bumping you both. In that moment, Jason knew he made the right choice. This felt right. It felt good. It felt like home. You, him, and your giant dog.

i think katsuki just answers his phone by barking out, "bakugou." no hello, probably doesn't even look at the caller id LOL when he hears it's you, though, i think he breathes out the tension he didn't realize was coiled in his shoulders, and says a lil, "hey," 🥺🥺

and i think when he calls you, and you answer with your sweet, "helloooo ??" he is so soft 😌 just mumbles out a quiet, "what'chu doin'?" and listens as you tell him, before saying what he needed to 😌

his favorite hobby is tormenting cloud 🔥

Gojo is lonely. Not just in the big, existential sense.

He doesn’t have anyone to tell about his day. He doesn’t have anyone to go try out that new restaurant with. He has so many movies because he has no one to talk to.

anyway I think zedaph’s like. plotline. character arc whatever is so funny to me. This man shows up to hermitcraft after being in a singleplayer world for 100 episodes and the first thing he does is turn around and build a hole in the ground and not talk to hardly anyone. And the second thing he does is trap the door. Excellent. So then he spends a season or two being a genius and inventing new mental illnesses for his viewers to have and etc etc. Dresses up for Halloween as the embodiment of death and goes up to people and asks them to die. Like. Normal things. He builds another hole in the ground and builds a complicated redstone device that can tell the time for him so he doesn’t have to go outside. And of course he traps the door again. Then in season eight he decides you know what I’m going to start regularly interacting with people other than my two (2) close friends. And you know how I’m going to do it. I’m going to put them in a box and psychologically evaluate them. Awesome. Wonderful. We love to see it. You know what that is? Growth. And so now we’re at season nine and he’s pretty regularly teaming up with the others and being silly and everything. And you know like trying to spy on them without them noticing and normal stuff like that. But at the end of the day he still lives in a hole

I love how Astarion quotes The Tell-Tale Heart every once in a while. It's a rarer line, and initially I thought it was out of place (Neil is very well versed in theater, so I assumed it was a riff from him), but since reading an analysis of the work I think it was pretty purposeful.

The piece is all about fear and paranoia, things we know Astarion is plagued by despite how he might act. Similarly, the narrator of the story also tries to convince the reader that they are not as troubled as they seem. In the end, the narrator is consumed by the beating of the heart of the old man he killed and dismembered, the sound growing louder and louder until in a fit of rage he reveals the body to the police to absolve himself from the persistent beating.

Except the police never heard the heart beat, because it wasn't the old man's heart at all. The narrator was consumed by the sound of his own heart beating more and more rapidly in his chest from fear. He was the owner of the thing that forced him to reveal his true nature, he is the owner of the tell-tale heart.

And what happens with Astarion after you romance him? He realizes over time that, while he tried to deny his feelings and was initially only interested in manipulating you for his own means, he actually has grown to care for you. You have done something to his heart that hasn't happened in centuries, you have made it feel as if it has started beating again.

Therefore, his tell-tale heart leads him to admit his transgressions, which were committed out of fear and paranoia for his safety.

So the line is actually very, very apt. His confession during Act 2 is his own version of "Villains! Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! Tear up the planks! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!" Except, of course, it is his own heart that he is unearthing for us (and it's not so hideous, after all).

throwback to the guy at the mcr concert who confessed to us before mcr came out that he was only a casual fan and didnt actually know much abt them beyond a couple of songs, so when gerard stopped singing and opened his mouth to actually talk for the first time and this guy heard him he stopped dead, turned around to look at us utterly bewildered and just uttered "no he does not....."

Something finally convinced me to use this meme huh

Nap time.

it would have been very beautiful. camilla would have had to cook (horrible bone soup)

Real talk tho that therapist Spider-Man needs to get fired cuz what the hell was that.

That was so insensitive like bro you aren't even funny 💢