well this is bitter

SnK Chapter 99 Poll Results

The chapter 98 poll closed with 1,751 responses.
Thank you to everyone who participated.

RATE THE CHAPTER
1,722 Responses

On the “awful” to “awesome” scale of 1-5, nearly 70% of respondents rated “Guilty Shadow” with a “5″, making it the highest rated chapter since we started polling. Well done, Isayama!

On that day, Marley received a grim reminder… this chapter woke up the obsessed snk fan in me, finally JESUS CHRIST

SNK has always been a wild ride, but I don’t believe I’ve ever been this excited and frustrated that I don’t have the next chapter in my hands RIGHT NOW- if only to satisfy the itch of knowing which half-hidden face is who from Paradis. And also to figure out what they’ve done to Porco, Pieck and Zeke to neutralize them while Eren gives Reiner the most uncomfortable tableside chat.

My heart was pounding throughout the entire chapter. The last time that happened was chapter 84 and I gotta say, I finally feel like this whole Marley arc has been worth it. What an adrenaline rush it’s become! Now that’s now Attack On Titan is supposed to be. I can’t wait to see everybody else again and proceed to reach the climax of the story.

The hype for SNK 100 is too real. Everything will explode

I need Ch100 right now immediately. Waiting another month is going to be torture. In the meantime I hope Porco and Pieck enjoy their time in the pit. If it turns out that Helos is Levi I will eat my own platform boots

It was amazing. Really great story.

I’m so glad this chapter is fake and SnK ended last month with everyone having a huge pizza party!

….is it December yet?

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anonymous asked:

Not every disagreement stems from racism. Not even when you're right

I never said it did you stupid rancorous fuck! if you can’t read as well as a six-year-old because you’re a bitter dumbass bitch that’s not my fault or my problem. focus on whatever hatred and insecurity is driving YOUR behaviour here & don’t worry about me habib

This was our MTGinktober for “Climb,” starring Toni Forgemyst and Gobbston Guidowski of GobTon Expeditions Crew, LLC! These guys are a team of extremely confident idiots who think they are the greatest navigators on Zendikar thanks to their supposed mastery of lithomancy and tethermancy, but in actuality, they are merely the greatest serendipimancers in the Multiverse (but are too stupid to realize it).  Regardless of the truth behind their mad methods, they nevertheless command the highest rates among Zendikar’s most elite sherpanistas, who gaze upon them with varying shades of bitterness at how well things inexplicably always seem to work out for these two dopes of no apparent formal training.  But I’m not here to talk about innuendo, I’m here to talk facts–by hiring GobTon Expeditions, customers get where they need to go, guaranteed–granted they are ok with invariably having to take the most circuitous route conceivable and nearly dying in the process.  But as in life, better to get where you want to go eventually than never getting there at all, right? Deep stuff, I know. But look, you’ve been talking about that excursion you’ve always wanted to take to Roilandia, but you’ve been putting it off for years now. Don’t sweat it! The adventure of your dreams is yours with GobTon Expeditions! That’s GobTon Expeditions: Come With Us if You Want to Leave! Book early to avoid disappointment! #Sponsored

Click this post’s Source link for this piece’s Making-Of.

More MTGinktober here.

Daily Art updates on Instagram and Twitter.

Not normal,

Reuxben

anonymous asked:

The weirdest thing to me about accusing you of being inaccessible is this is the internet! They don’t have to parse spoken jargon and participate in real time. They can read and reread and look up word definitions and take all the time in the world before engaging, but instead they’d rather air out their thinly veiled outrage about a brown woman just genuinely being smarter and more well read than they are.

they’re bitter!!!

6

“be good to her…”

10

But fortunately, love does too.

some realistic and in-character father/son conflicts boruto could have

- naruto is an overbearing parent who wants to be involved with Everything they do and doesn’t know how to give his kids space

- naruto is over-protective of his loved ones to the extreme

- naruto has no idea what ‘normal’ father-son relationships are like thanks to his childhood, as a result he can make a lot of mistakes due to wanting his children to like him more than doing what’s best for them

- naruto is the entire village’s dad and boruto wishes he could have more one-on-one time rather than ‘nart is babysitting Everyone’ time

- naruto is the Most Embarrassing of all dads

- boruto is terrified by the prospect of ever living up to his father’s legacy

- boruto expects that his dad/the ninja world would hate him for not becoming a ninja and following in naruto’s footsteps

- boruto expects that his ninja skills will be handed to him on a silver platter due to his parentage

- boruto doesn’t take in naruto’s many lessons on hard work because his skills were handed to him on a silver platter

- literally anything but what we got

Sheriff Knows Best

Stiles/Derek, G, 2K words, Sheriff POV, Coffeeshop AU, matchmaker!Sheriff

(Credit for the title to @cobrilee!)

This is an expansion of the following idea, written by the lovely @artemis69:

the coffee!AU, where John goes to the same coffee shop every day, and there is this very grumpy, quiet barista that always makes him amazing coffee and keep the best pastries for him. And one day the Sheriff learns that Derek is the one to bake them all, so he decides: this will be my son in law, I need a reason to have this man in my family for at least forty to fifty years. Then he matchmakes with no subtility whatsoever, basically offering his only son on a silver plate, Stiles spluttering all the way (but he takes Derek’s number anyway because the guy is just amazingly cute)

John’s on his regular morning stroll when he stops in his tracks and takes in the brand-new coffee shop, complete with a banner advertising their opening day. The little corner space has been boarded up for over a year, and John had no idea it was opening today.

Any new businesses are a boon for Beacon Hills, especially family-run ones like this one is rumored to be, so John ducks inside. It’s warm and homey, and there’s a pair of young dark-haired people behind the counter, close enough in features that they’re probably siblings. The quiet bickering points that direction, too.

They stop, though, when they see the Sheriff—the uniform tends to have that effect—and he pastes on his public servant smile. “Hi there. I saw this place was open and wanted to come on in and introduce myself. Sheriff John Stilinski.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” the woman says, holding out her hand for a shake. A nice strong grip—John likes this girl already. “I’m Laura Hale, and I own this place with my brother Derek, our resident grumpy barista-slash-baker.”

Derek rolls his eyes at Laura, but his smile to John is genuine, if small. “Hi, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, son,” he says, perusing the case full of tempting sugary treats. “You made these?”

He nods. “Can I get you anything?”

John hums. “A medium coffee, and…any one of these delicious-looking goodies. You pick. Just don’t tell my son,” he adds, and Derek looks up at him.

“Your son?”

“I have slightly elevated cholesterol,” he says, stressing the word. “Nothing to worry about, honestly. But he polices my diet. I don’t think he knows about this place yet, though, so this is great.”

Derek hums. His tongs hover over a muffin—lemon poppyseed, it looks like—before moving to another one. Raspberry-almond, according to the sign, and well, John isn’t picky. Derek drops it into a little bag and hands it over.

“Happy to help,” he says.

John thanks him and opens the bag. Laura’s still pouring his coffee, but it smells so damn good that he can’t resist.

“Wow,” he says, his mouth full. “This is delicious.”

Derek looks quietly proud, and Laura claps him on the shoulder as she reaches over to hand John his coffee. “On the house, today, Sheriff,” she says. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.


“Thanks, Nina,” John says dryly, leaning back so she can put his plate in front of him.

“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” she says with a friendly smile, ignoring his stink eye.

Stiles just grins at both of them and digs into his French toast. He insists on having their weekly father-son breakfast at Paulie’s Diner because no matter what John orders, Nina will only bring him an egg-white omelet with a dry English muffin. Stiles must have some serious blackmail or be paying her off somehow, and John is, he has to admit, grudgingly impressed.

“Don’t look so bummed out, Pops,” Stiles says, around a mouthful of what’s surely syrup-drenched deliciousness. “At least I let you have turkey bacon.”

“It’s not the same,” he says grumpily, poking at it. “But at least I’m getting a steady stream of baked goods now.”

Stiles glares at him. “Are you serious? From where? I thought I had paid everyone off.”

He knew it. “I’m not telling you,” he says, a little displeased with how childish he sounds.

“Fine,” Stiles says, sniffing. “I’ll figure it out, you know I will.”

He will, John knows. Goddamn, he loves his kid, even if his life goal seems to be depriving John from any and all delicious food. “And speaking of, I met someone the other day,” he starts, and Stiles gasps theatrically, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Is this you crapping all over my dream of having Melissa as my stepmom?”

John sighs at the reminder. Melissa is…well, she seems happy with that Argent guy. Whatever. He’s not bitter.

“Not for me, Jesus,” he says, shaking his head. “For you.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, slumping back in the booth. “Eye roll” is too mild, John thinks. It’s more of a whole head roll. “Seriously, Dad, I’m only 25. You don’t have to marry me off quite yet. You’ll get your grandchildren someday, I promise. Stop trying to set me up with people.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful!” John protests. “He seems nice.”

And makes really good treats, he adds in his head. That’ll be a good trait for a son-in-law.

“And who exactly is he?”

John pauses. “I met him at the aforementioned undisclosed location.” 

Stiles snorts. “Find out if he actually likes dudes, then get back to me.”

“Okay,” he says seriously, and Stiles grimaces.

“No, Dad, don’t actually—”

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I.. I don’t even know if i should could translate this :D

He just kinda swears in Russian (meaning something like “Well that’s just great”, “What am i going to do with you now?”)

anonymous asked:

Ik it isn't bitter sunday but like what if tony had a daughter and team free loader tries to go back to the compound and she gives them a piece of her mind ft. Pepper,Rhodey, & Peter

Her name is Vic because of course Tony names his daughter Victory. She is almost as tall as Tony–she’ll get there one day, of that she’s sure–has her father’s curly, brown hair and her mother’s grey eyes–and, as her mother likes to joke sometimes, both of their worst qualities. She’s petty and sharp-tongued and never quite knows when to quit, and she adores Tony almost as much as Tony adores her.

Only Pepper, Rhodey and Peter are smart enough to be terrified of her.


The first time Pepper realises the extend of the Wrath Of Vic™ she’s leading the redeemed Avengers into their old compound. It’s still official SI property and since Tony refused to be here Pepper has decided to handle the team herself. She’s got plans.

Plans she never gets the chance to enact. Because when they arrive at the compound, Pepper is as surprised as everyone else to discover that they aren’t alone. And that every wall–every wall in the entire building, how did she even do that–is painted in the most galling, eye-paining shade of orange she has ever had the misfortune to see.

She doesn’t let any of her surprise show of course. Pepper hasn’t worked for Tony for years for nothing. Besides the returning “heroes” expressions are very gratifying indeed.

The orange isn’t the only new decoration either. In every place where there used to be the trademark Avengers sign, there is now Traitors written in poisonous green letters on the walls. The floors have been covered in a very cheap, very ugly carpet with a lot of suspicious spots Pepper decides she doesn’t want to investigate. The kitchen is filled with food.

Weeks old food.

Pepper is starting to suspect that Vic has been preparing for this ever since the Congress finally decided to take up negotiations on the Accords again.

(She is wrong. Vic has been preparing for this day since she spent seven endless hours in an impersonal hospital waiting room, awaiting the news of her father’s fate.)

The furniture in the personal rooms is mostly still there, if now covered in spray-painted graffitis. Mostly there seem to be a lot of penises and middle-fingers from what Pepper can make out. It’s so pointlessly childish she has to hide her face behind a file for a moment to hide a stubborn smile.

Dirty footprints, drops of paint, greasy hand prints on the windows, dust…the place is a mess.

Pepper is so busy pretending not to bask in Steve Roger’s horrified disbelief, she almost misses the girl sitting cross-legged in the middle of the common room–on the only spot of clean floor available–typing away on a laptop.

“Oh, you’re here,” she comments, shuts her laptop.

Rogers frowns. “Who are you?” he asks distractedly, apparently still in too much shock by the state of his home.

Vic blinks, once, twice, then smiles with all her teeth. “My name is Victory Stark. You may remember meeting my father, Anthony Stark.”

The announcement is met by stunned silence.

“I didn’t–didn’t know Tony had a daughter,” Steve manages to get out eventually.

Impossibly, Vic’s grin widens. 

“Don’t worry,” she says as she gets to her feet, shoulders her bag, “You’re unlikely to forget any time soon.”

And with that she pirouettes on her heels, kicking an open can of Red Bull until it falls over and spills on the ground where she sat just a moment ago, and strides out of the room, humming I’m sexy and I know it as she does so.

[”How did you do it? You’d have to have been painting day and night to do this much damage in such a short time!” Pepper asks curiously a few hours later.

“Would’ve been some well-spent weeks.” Vic shrugs unapologetically. “Wasn’t necessary though. I just asked on craigslist if any Iron Man fans felt the need to make their feelings known to the dear Captain.”

“And proprietary damage is what you came up with?”

“Oh, no.” Vic’s smile is unholy. “That’s just the start. I got together with some girls from my school to brainstorm. Honestly, how more people aren’t deathly afraid of cheerleaders I’ll never know.”

…Pepper knows better than to ask.]

What if we hadn’t met?

Do you think we would’ve been better off?


I’d probably be peacefully sleeping instead of constantly thinking about you. I wouldn’t be thinking about your smile and how I desperately wished I could see it one last time. I wouldn’t be reminiscing how good we were once upon a time. And I certainly wouldn’t be missing you. I’d be happy because I wouldn’t be burdened with the thoughts of you holding someone else in your arms, someone who isn’t me. If I hadn’t met you, I would possibly still have had thought I was good enough, that I deserved happiness and I would find someone who’d give it to me.


And you, well you wouldn’t be so bitter towards me for starters.  Maybe, you would’ve found someone who treated you the way you deserved to be treated from the start and you would’ve never wasted a year of your life on something so pointless. You would’ve always been happy.


Imagine. What if the day you saw something in me in that room, I wasn’t there for something to be seen? And the day you decided to message me, I didn’t reply for us to talk for countless of hours? And after all those days of you telling me you loved me, I never ever said it back? Wouldn’t we have saved each other from all this pain? 

What if we had never met?

—  But we did.

So what you’re telling me is that the lieutenants are okay 👀👀👀👀