worried that thing you put in your art or writing or game or music is too self-indulgent, too self-referential, too niche for anyone but yourself? fear not! you can do whatever you want forever. and you should.
Luzu: Yeah, you know, I told people that I would happily make some dictionaries so that you guys have expressions to use, like you can have a book in your inventory that you open to have like basic Spanish stuff, I'm gonna mess his one, like his -
Phil: Oh yes, please.
Luzu: - book up, and I'm gonna make all like, have no meaning.
Phil: Please give him like, a - a silly book, a - give him a silly one.
Luzu: Yeah. How do I pronounce his name, Wilbur, or Wilb? Or Wil?
Phil: You got it right the first time! Yup, it's Wilbur.
Luzu: Oh yeah? Alright.
Phil: Yup yup! Or just Wil. Either - either works.
Luzu: I wanna have to find a way to, yeah, have a cold revenge. Like, he - he may be laughing today, and, "heehee, haha!" we did like this small joke, and in 20 days I'm gonna destroy everything that he loves in this server.
even if loki and mobius’s relationship isn’t, or never is romantic, i still love how important it is just for loki to have a friend. a real friend, someone who he feels comfortable casually touching and approaching when one or both of them is in a bad mood. someone who he can sit in comfortable silence with, someone who he knows how to read, someone who knows exactly how to read him in return. this is loki, who grew up alone and unwanted, who constantly competed with his brother because he never felt like he belonged, who learned how to close himself off from everyone else in the world. who learned how to be prickly, defensive, evil, because no one ever saw him as anything else. because he was told his birthright was to die as a child, and that he should be lucky he gets to beg for scraps at odin’s table.
this is loki, who’s never been friends with anyone who didn’t want something from him. who’s never been real friends with anyone at all. and for the first time, we get to see him just existing. comfortable with another person, laughing with another person, sharing his thoughts and feelings with another person like he hasn’t been alone for his entire life. and it’s really, really nice.
Reblog this post if you are professionally diagnosed and you support informed self diagnosis and you hate people accusing others of faking disorders when they have no evidence to support that
it's been said before and i'll say it again: image descriptions are not meant to be added later by other people. they are meant to be written by op and included within the op.
I work in a pet store with a self serve dog wash, and as I was cleaning one of the tubs I saw a couple of little guys
Definitely one of your nose dogs, and I think they were sisters. One had grey markings and the other had light brown markings. They came to about halfway up my thighs (for reference I'm 5'2) so they were probably still puppies? Either that or they're short as shit
Each and every one of them is rescued or adopted in some way: salvaged from a home that hadn't cared for it, up for grabs on the side of the road, forgotten in the corners of Home Depot, leftovers from wedding centerpieces that surely are going to be tossed after the reception ends. Eddie knows what it feels like to be forgotten, left out, neglected, and just because plants don't have a voice stand on lunch tables and air their frustrations with broken systems, that doesn't mean they don't feel. So yes, Eddie loves his plants, loves them with almost the same intensity that he loves their cat, Bruce.
At first, Steve just nods and shrugs and gives Eddie that fond smile that says I don't get it but you're happy so I'm happy. The same smile Steve wears when Eddie rambles on about Dungeons and Dragons, about the intricacies of being both a Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne fan, about why Mothman and Bigfoot and mermaids absolutely exist, Steve! It's endearing and warm, and Eddie loves him so goddamn much. Even more than Bruce, even more than the plants.
What Eddie doesn't expect, though, is for Steve to grow to love the plants, too. In true Steve fashion, he brushes it off when he pinches dead leaves from the Pothos, or when he smiles as he sprays the Boston fern. Eddie knows that, bare minimum, Steve cares about their plant babies and so when he ends up going on a week-long tour with Corroded Coffin, he doesn't worry too much about the little green souls that litter their apartment.
A week is a long time, and Eddie misses home so much that he doesn't announce himself as he barrels through the front door the following Saturday afternoon.
"Yeah, see? You’re doing great."
Eddie freezes in his tracks. Who the fuck is Steve talking to with that whispered voice? The one that, up until now, Eddie presumed was for him and him only. He knows he'd never cheat, but seriously, who's in their apartment?
"Atta girl, look at you! See, I told you, we'd figure this out."
He sets his bags down as quietly as he can, toes off his boots, and slowly pads along the beige carpet to peak around the corner to their living room.
Oh.
Steve's talking to their plants.
Eddie leans against the doorframe and watches as Steve smiles, wide and bright enough to replace the sun shining in through the streaky bay window, while moving from plant to plant, pot to pot, singing their praises and lavishing them with compliments and affirmation.
"You're growing so well!"
"See? I watered you and you popped right back up. You don't have to be dramatic about it."
"When your other dad gets home, we’ve gotta talk about repotting you. You're definitely outgrowing this pot."
Eddie clears his throat and Steve whirls around with a wild look in his eye that reminds him so much of the time he caught Dustin snooping in his campaign materials that he briefly wonders if Dustin and Steve actually are biologically related.
“Oh honey, I’m home!” Eddie singsongs and grins as he shoves away from the door jam, walking over to Steve who’s already rolling his eyes and groaning.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough to feel a little jealous of the Boston fern over here.” Eddie gestures towards the large fern spilling over the sides of its planter. “You never tell me I’m growing so well.”
Steve sets down the watering bottle and pulls Eddie in closer, both arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Eddie melts, letting himself be held and loved. A week really is a long time.
“No, but I do tell you when you’re being dramatic,” he teases, pressing a soft kiss against Eddie’s lips that’s more the touch of smiles than of mouths.
Eddie pulls back just enough to catch Steve’s gaze, warm and comforting. “You do realize that I’ll never let this go, right?”
Never. Always. Forever.
Eddie was never one for absolute language, except when it comes to Steve. He’ll never let him live this down, because he’ll always be here. Forever.
Steve laughs, shaking his head. “I’d sure hope not.”