need to calm down now

Just to clarify…


I don’t like the way DBS is being written. Goku has changed too much, he’s not the same character anymore and I don’t think Toyotaro is doing a good job in this. I respect Toriyama’s decision to choose him as his successor, but I think Toriyama made the wrong call here, as did everybody else involved in the production of this manga.

Not okay:

Everything wrong with DBS is Toyotaro’s fault. Fuck Toyotaro. Toyotaro can kiss my butt. Go to hell Toyotaro.

See the difference? You can express your dislike of something without resorting to hate agaisnt a person, or blaming them entirely when there were multiple people involved. That’s all I’m trying to say. Please stop resorting to vicious hate as a first response.


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all for the game: the girls 

Neil thought about Renee’s bruised knuckles, Dan’s fierce spirit, and Allison holding her ground on the court a week after Seth’s death. He thought about his mother standing unflinching in the face of his father’s violent anger and her ruthlessly leaving bodies in their wake. He felt compelled to say, “Some of the strongest people I’ve known are women.” 

even pledis is shocked lol

Diamond City’s littlest detectives

Thoughts about possible lategame post-marriage story developments in Stardew Valley:

- Wizard takes on either Penny or Abigail as an apprentice (if the player has married one of them, pick the other)
- if the player has not married Emily, have Clint ask her out
- if the player has not married Sebastian or Sam, have them get together
- have Linus tutor village kids alongside / instead of Penny
- have more people move in now that the town is more lively! How about that girl who worked at Joja Mart?
- solve the mystery of Jas’s parents
- Pam should totally take up fishing instead of just going to the saloon every night
- would be nice if Kent found something to do, too! He often remarks on fishing, too… How’s that for making the fishing scene more lively, hmmm?
- have something happen with Alex’s pro career?
- after Leah’s art show, how about adding a new festival as the town DOES become an art destination?
- after restoring the Community Center, maybe eventually have something happen to the abandoned Joja Mart building?




Originally posted by friendsthetvshow

Guys, I just…I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know how to talk about this yet, without YELLING LOTS OF NONSENSE. But I feel like I need to share, so I’m going to try, and convey the important bits at least. Apologies if this devolves into some series of all-caps word vomit (spoiler alert: it will), but you know, at least I’m still alive and typing. Not functioning, not even close, but I suspect that’s my default state now for days or maybe weeks.

I was really upset - devastated actually - that I wasn’t able to get tickets to Hamlet earlier this week. I was feeling quite sorry for myself because I have an expiration date on my time here in London, and I felt severely disappointed that I missed out on what was likely my only chance of seeing my absolute favourite person live on stage.

But apparently, I’ve done something right in my life? Because today the universe decided to make it up to me. 

I was sitting in the tube station and out of the corner of my eye, saw a strikingly familiar, very tall and recognisably-clothed silhouette coming towards me. I think my brain actually stuttered, if that’s a thing, because even though I recognised him immediately, it seemed to take a minute for my brain to catch up and start screaming, WHAT DO WE DO NOWWWW? at me. I quite literally could not believe my eyes. He walked past me. It’s likely at this point I suffered a mild stroke.

I screwed up all my courage, even though I felt like an idiot, because I just could NOT let this opportunity pass me by. So I went up, tapped him on the shoulder, said “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I just have to say hello, because I love you SO MUCH” which…cringe? Ahaha. But also, HOW ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO START THIS CONVERSATION? There is literally no good way. And I wanted to somehow express my admiration - I mean, I didn’t want him to think I was just approaching him because he’s a celebrity, any celebrity, you know? I would only go up to somebody who sincerely means something to me, someone who I just can’t not take the chance to speak to. Basically, TOM. He’s the one. Anyway. I’m sure some people will think this is embarrassing, and uh yeah, it totally is, but he just gave a little laugh (RIP, ME) and said, “That’s very kind, I’m really just a regular guy.” (Um, no.)

At this point I was going to be like, Anyway love your work, thank you, byeee or something like that and slide off and leave him alone, but then he asked my name, shook my hand (DEAD, AGAIN) and asked where I was from. In the middle of me trying to explain where Manitoba, Canada is (again, he asked - I was really trying my best not to be intrusive on his time!), the train we were both waiting for pulled up. 

(Me on the inside: What the fuck do I do now?! Do I get on this train? Does that seem like I’m following him, creepy stalker style? BUT THIS IS MY TRAIN. BUT IT’S HIS TRAIN TOO. ARE WE JUST GETTING ON THE TRAIN TOGETHER NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING)

Long story short (haha jk, this is already not short and it’s about to keep being not short, at all), we did get on the train together. We both stood at the back of the carriage, leaning against the back wall, and we had an ACTUAL FUCKING CONVERSATION FOR TEN STRAIGHT MINUTES. A conversation…between me and TOM. THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE, AND ALL OUR LIVES. ALLOW ME SEVERAL LINES MORE OF SCREAMING HERE BECAUSE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Originally posted by allisonbell24

And Tomblr friends, this is what I would like most to tell you: he was exactly everything I had hoped he would be. An absolute dream. He was kind, inquisitive, thoughtful, down to earth, and just so perfectly genuine. He did not have to keep talking to me - he could’ve said, “Nice to meet you”, walked away and sat down and put his headphones in, the way everyone does on the train, and I’d never have thought any less of him for it. Instead, he stood there with a stranger who probably had a noticeable hint of hysteria in her voice/face, and asked me questions, and looked me in the eyes, and listened to me, and made my fucking day/week/year/LIFE.

Here are some other things:

  • The superficial: He was BREATHTAKING in person. Just so, so, so beautiful. He actually glowed like a movie star. He was wearing the official Out and About in London Tom uniform: dark blue sweater, faded black jeans, the cuddly coat (!!), grey suede shoes, and…glasses. GLASSES. GLASSES!!!
  • There was adjusting of the glasses happening while we were conversing. Oh yes, there was. Also brow furrowing.
  • I cannot even convey the depth of my delight over his hair right now. It’s grown out even more since SDCC. Curls - glorious curls!!! IT IS SO CUTE.
  • Also: BEARD. The effect of the curls and the beard and the glasses altogether…is simply indescribable. This…this was PEAK TOM, you guys!
  • I’m honestly having trouble remembering what we talked about, which I’m so mad at myself for, but it’s rather difficult to register things when you’re having an internal meltdown, I guess? I am proud of myself for managing to form coherent words and sentences (How? How? I don’t know. By the grace of god, I suppose). He asked me what I was doing in London, and what I liked most about London. When I told him I up and moved here with zero plans, just to have an adventure, he said “Wow” and asked if I found the city overwhelming (Uh, NOT AS OVERWHELMING AS THIS IS RIGHT NOW. But also, what an adorable thing to say. I melted. Ugh). 
  • At one point he said my name, looked right at me and very clearly said “SARAH” and my heart exploded and I can’t even remember what it was about. I may have temporarily blacked out. I will surely never be the same again.
  • I mentioned being a bit sad about my unsuccessful attempt at Hamlet tickets, as we were talking about theatre in London, but said he must be excited to get back on stage and he said, yes, he’s looking forward to it. He said he’s very sorry that anyone was disappointed about not getting tickets, but he was really glad that it was done in a way that gave everyone a fair chance (which I agreed with).
  • He asked me about my job (I do social media customer care for a tech company) and then we talked for a bit about social media and what a weird thing it is. Which was probably quite an interesting conversation, but again, I think I blacked out because I barely remember any of it. I hate myself. I DO remember that his voice in person is even more heavenly than it’s possible to describe. And that he was doing that Tom thing of thinking really carefully about his answers, and crafting them so eloquently. I will try to come up with more details if anyone wants to hear them. I feel such a stupid idiot for not being able to remember more at the moment!
  • One thing I would like to express but don’t know how to say it exactly, so I hope this comes across as I mean it: he was not overly cheerful. He seemed more than willing to chat, was extremely kind and expressive, and as I said - if he hadn’t wanted to talk to me he had every opportunity to make his exit, so I think he was happy to do so. But he was not all smiles, he seemed kind of…pensive, I guess? And I could see that this was the real Tom - just caught in a moment of a quiet day, making his way through London, having a little chat with a stranger. He wasn’t being “on.” He actually frowned more than smiled, but not in an unhappy way - just in that really thoughtful way of his, where he’s weighing his words, and really listening. I actually loved it, because he seemed so…real, and solid, and normal, and so HIM.
  • I did not ask for a picture because I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable, or interrupt the flow of conversation, and I was much happier having a chance to talk to him. The only thing I regret is not having a photo of him just to remember how goddamn gorgeous he looked. But…this was so much better.

If you’ve read this far, first of all, I’m sorry this is SO MANY WORDS, and thank you. I guess there are maybe more things to say, but I’ll stop here. I need to attempt to calm the fuck down now and go to sleep. Feel free to chime in or drop into my inbox if you want to hear more. This is literally the only thing I will be talking about from now until the end of time, so sorry, everyone in my life.

One last thing: I’m more convinced than ever that all of us who fell in love with this man, we were right. He deserves it. He was perfect.

I feel so unbelievably lucky at this moment. The world is beautiful, I love you all, good night.

(Tags for some of you who may be interested in this overly long and magical tale - I’m sincerely sorry that I’m sure to forget lots of you - but as you now know I’ve recently suffered a massive brain and heart meltdown, so. @ceciliasyndrome @hiddleston81 @devikafernando @magnetobsessed79 @craftynidan @thehumming6ird @insanely-smart @beaglebitch @tomhiddleston-kikibfairy @freckletriangleofdoom@restlesstymes @nelsonn8 @8thwonderofthewxrld @desert-power-6 )

I like the headcanon where Bart’s never seen stars before because the air is so polluted in the future.

In other news, I am going to start putting my signature on all my work as damage control for all the reposts I’ve been seeing lately.

Best feeling in the world:

When you’re working on a big project and it somehow didn’t save one night  and you lost all the work you did on it one night and it’s just the greatest because now you have to do it all AGAIN and it totally makes me happy and not want to cry.

sauceuchiha  asked:

Hey! your writing is outstanding, and i can't get enough tbh. If you're still taking prompts-- how about andrew getting hurt, neil Losing It™ on whoever hurt him, and andrew having to talk neil back to himself👌😩

(I know this was sent a million years ago but ur wonderful and also, I coupled this with another prompt, I hope that’s okay!)

63: “I think there’s someone in the house.”

Neil rips awake, groping for a weapon so clumsily that he knocks knuckles into the back of Andrew’s head. He feels like he left about half of his face in the pillows, he’s so slurred and disoriented.

He sits up, listening through the swish of the covers, through Andrew stirring — slower than usual — to grab at the place where Neil’s hand had touched. Their bedroom is puddled with moonlight but it’s otherwise dark enough for Neil’s eyes to invent patterns in the blackness. He knows in his guts and his feet and the roots of his eyes that something is wrong.

“What?” Andrew says thickly, turning his face into the pillows and stretching with the rest of his body. It’s making Neil feel twice as urgent, how lethargic Andrew is, how comfortable he’s gotten.

Neil doesn’t make a sound, but he reaches for Andrew’s warm hand in amongst the sheets. He squeezes his fingers hard, and goes completely still when he hears a floorboard crack. “I think there’s someone in the house.”

Andrew takes his hand away so he can roll onto his back, and Neil puts a barring arm across his chest. They’re too vulnerable; weaponless, blankets tangled around their waists, still covered in sleep, their weaknesses sitting next to them.

“Neil,” Andrew says lowly, and Neil shakes his head frantically. If whoever’s inside set off their weak hardwood flooring then they’re close, past the tile of the kitchen and their dingy linoleum entryway. They need the advantage of being alert and aware without the intruder knowing, it’s all they have. Neil lifts the covers high and hands them to Andrew so they won’t brush against him when he climbs out of bed.

Andrew’s confused, Neil can tell because he’s not arguing and he’s not moving to stop him. He didn’t hear what Neil did, wasn’t awake enough to listen for it.

He creeps to the open bedroom door and quietly picks up his spare exy racquet. He wants to stay behind the door, close his eyes and listen for those stray, jumpy sounds, but he has the stupidest feeling that he’d be leaving Andrew alone if he hid or waited or blinked.

He leads with the racquet, using it to feel his way into the hallway. He blinks at the complete suck of the darkness. He can see the little red numbers of the oven clock from around the bend of the wall, and he watches them, waiting for the air to move, the time to blink when someone passes in front. He breathes through his mouth and takes one step, waiting for a blow to the head, for the world to get even darker.

Neil’s so caught up in instincts from his past that he almost forgets Andrew at his back, upright in bed, his armbands on the dresser. The next breath he takes is loud, panicked, and he has to move forward or it’ll overwhelm him. He closes in on the front door, the silence breathing down his neck.

When his hand touches the unmoved locks, the familiar metal chain locked in place, the un-splintered wood, he finally hears another shift behind him. He whips around, heart slamming itself against his ribs like its trying to break them down. He spots the open balcony first, the shiver of the curtains. And then he sees a man looming into their bedroom, one shade different from the darkness everywhere else.

“Andrew,” Neil shouts, distracting or warning or losing his mind, and the rest of the silhouette disappears into their room. “Andrew!” he says again, terror crackling in the air. He drops the racquet, running so fast that his legs can’t keep up and he stumbles into the wall opposite the bedroom.

When he lunges inside and slams on the lights, he sees Andrew with his hand braced against the bedside table, eyes wide. The man in their bedroom is twice their size, wearing a black surgical mask and hoodie and pointing a gun in Neil’s face.

Neil doesn’t really think about disarming him, just slips to the floor, watches the confused sag of the gun as it follows him down, and snaps up tight so that it goes flying. He slams one socked foot into the guy’s kneecap and hears it break with bright satisfaction.

He looks down at the now un-imposing spread of him on their carpet, making aborted sounds and sweating through his mask. Neil backs up until he can crouch to pick up the gun without taking his eyes off of the guy, and then he bobs back up, weapon easily cocked, a sick smile on his own face that he can taste.

Then he looks beyond the intruder and sees the blood slicking their bed.

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kyungshim @ bongsoon & gukdoo: “you guys…the culprit came into my ward and you guys are fighting without worrying about me?! stop arguing please!”

Context: Playing a Female Kobold Fire Sorcerer named Nyx. The token image is cute, and I’ve got the good Charisma skills.

Cleric: Well, time to spend a cure spell on the Ugly Lizard.

Nyx: Hey! I’m the cutest Kobold there ever was!

Investigator: To me, all Kobolds are ugly.

Nyx: Fine then, you can be in range of my next burning hands!

Investigator: Calm down now, no need for that.

Nyx: Blame the guy who blocked the spot I wanted to stand for that.

(They did end up convincing me to use a different fire spell instead. But they did repeat the “calm down” line after I one shotted all the enemies.)