cable jumper

For real though. I’ve been on various image boards on 4chan and 8chan. I went on Encyclopedia Dramatica before their odd turn to being ALL ANTI SJW ALL THE TIME DEUS VULT STOP THE MUSLIM HORDES RAPING EUROPE. I’ve been on Newgrounds when it was edgy school shooting flash cartoons and fascinatingly terrible porn games. I’ve beheld the oddity of Chris chan and the odd group that’s sprung around to document him. I’ve been on twitter in some shape or form since 2011. I’ve trolled furries and have a massive familiarity with the dysfunctions of that set of notorious online communities.

And I’ve gotta say.

Tumblr users are the absolute nastiest and most horrid people I’ve had the misfortune to observe anywhere online.

The worst tumblrs have all the qualities of the most extreme trolls, but have a bizarre tendency to frame shit in a moralistic maze that makes absolutely no sense to any outsider of this hellsite.

You call everyone that even mildly disagrees with someone tumblr Likes a racist ableist pedophile.

Anyone to the right of fuckin Mao Zedong is a nazi to you lot.

Anyone that likes anime that’s not on the list of Funnymen Jackass Approved Japanese Entertainment is an aspiring pedophilic rape monster.

Anyone that doesn’t subscribe to the utterly wrong and bizarre ideas tumblr has about gender identity, being trans, having mental illness or disabilities is a fuckin lightning bolt from Mike Pence’s jumper cables. Even if they ARE that identity, or have the actual fucking diagnosed condition!

Anyone that disagrees with you, even if they’re a member of the discriminated and marginalized groups you CLAIM to wanna protect, they become fair game.

You act like fucking Scientologists, brigading, doxing, stalking and harassing friends, family, and employers of people who Think Wrong on this site. Or even someone Dongsmoker69/cumvaper420/making-your-mom-nut TOLD YOU was a bad person with no fucking sources.

Yahoo can’t axe this shithole and leave you little jackasses wriggling in the sunlight like maggots fast enough

Does this count as inktober

Hold on Hun, We’re Gonna Bunny-Hug (pt1)

“I’m not cruisin’ for a love connection,” she warns him with pursed lips. He still has her pinned to the door, one leg thrown around his waist as they grind into each other ever so often.

James doesn’t miss a step, just drags his teeth over her pulse and says, “Good. Me either.”

or, ‘I slept with you the other day and I didn’t know we had a mutual friend and now we’re sitting across each other for brunch and it’s awkward' 

wc: 3.7k
rating: M

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The pub is raucous tonight. It seems like everyone and their mum decided to hit up the Three Broomsticks, and Rosmerta only had time to sling their drinks across the counter before hustling off to deal with another round of patrons. It just errs on the side of uncomfortable; the close packed bodies, the almost deafening levels of chatter, the slowly building humidity that leaves his skin damp, even after he rolled up the sleeves of his flannel in an attempt to cool down.

It’s a bit chaotic, but then again, he thrives off of chaos. At least, that’s what he says after watching some bloke spill his drink on a girl in an attempt to feel her up, only to receive a punch to the jaw. It results in a minor scuffle and he just sits off to the side observing it. It reminds him of an Andy Warhol painting for some reason; just a blur of colour and movement.

James Potter is not good at flip cup.

Or, more accurately, he’s not good at this blaspheme of flip cup that Sirius came up with. He’s making them chug a bitter stout instead of beer, and James grimaces the whole way through, costing him and Remus significant time.

He gives up after the third round of losing- he doesn’t hate himself that much, plus he’s sure that if he doesn’t wash down the taste with something else, his tastebuds would never forgive him- and Sirius pats him on the back.

“Oh don’t be sad, Prongs,” he says, pinching his cheeks.

James bats his hands away. “You’re a sadistic bastard.”

“Funny, that’s what my mum used to call me growing up.”

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ASOUE Modern AU + The Baudelaires and the Quagmires living together in an apartment and being happy

•The Quagmires just show up at the Baudelaires’ door one day. They don’t like to talk about whatever happened in The Great Unknown, and the Baudelaires don’t ask. They just sort of settle in.

•They have one bookshelf but G-d knows it doesn’t hold all of them. Isadora keeps her poetry books in a box under the bed in the room she shares with Violet, Beatrice, and Sunny. Klaus keeps various books everywhere, under the couch cushions, in the cupboards with the plates, everywhere. Violet acts like she minds it, and tries to get Klaus to clean them up once in a while, but secretly she enjoys it. She’s never enjoyed libraries as much as her brother, but after libraries saved her more than a few times, she found that she didn’t quite mind that her whole home has become one.

•Sunny starts kindergarten that year, and Violet feels uneasy leaving her with someone else. But she has a job now, in a local garage, and she’s suddenly busy with carburetors and jumper cables and her coworkers who always have a funny story to tell about their kids. Klaus and Duncan and Quigley and Isadora are all in their last years of high school, but they have after school jobs as well. Violet gets her GED online, and she gets out of work early enough to pick Beatrice up from Pre-School every day. They fall into something of a routine.

•The days are easy, but the nights are a little harder. Violet can sometimes hear the boys cry out in the other room, the sounds of a night terror leaving them, some unknown monster that they’re fighting in their own minds. Duncan sleepwalks on the worst nights and Violet gently guides him back to bed. Isadora never cries out, she just whimpers and shifts in her bed, but Violet always wakes up anyways. Sunny doesn’t get them. Beatrice murmers for her mother in her sleep.

•The apartment always fills with the smell of Sunny’s cooking. Her flair for food only grows as she gets older. On Passover, the Quagmires’ first with the Baudelaires, they sit down at their table with the Seder plate in the middle and the Afikomen hidden somewhere amongst the clutter of their apartment. Violet immediately picks out the smells of different foods, like the Gefilte fish and the Maror, but mostly she smells the Matzo Ball Soup and her eyes fill with tears as she remembers her mother’s and how it never failed to warm her up in the rainy month of April.

•Violet sits on the fire escape with Quigley, her hand in his, as they look down at the alley below them. She remembers a moment, forever ago, when they sat on a similar ledge and watched the moonlight glisten on the snow-topped mountains. “It’s a very lovely view,” Violet says, only once more. “Very lovely indeed,” was the reply. Violet realized then that he wasn’t looking at the alley.

•Life for the Baudelaire-Quagmire family is crazy. It’s all spilled coffee and dog-eared pages and lost socks and nights spent in a pile on the couch and school projects and helping hands and fire escapes and everything that they always wanted for themselves. It’s home, and they’re still getting used to having one again. But the best part about it, is that it’s the easiest thing they’ve done in a long time, and bad memories are almost forgotten.

“Something twisted in Eurus’ gut as she watched Irene Adler arrive through the fringe of her wig. Given all that she knew about her brother, Eurus has expected the Woman to be softer, warmer, someone boring and bland wrapped up in a cable knit jumper. She had not expected someone who entered a room like a queen, whose gaze was live steel and razor wire. She had not expected her brother’s mysterious entanglement to be with someone so much like who he pretended to be.

Eurus had expected Irene Adler to be John Watson in female form. She had not expected the her brother would have become infatuated with a Woman so like herself.”

—  Random ficlet scrap that just popped into my head

While giving Archie his bath in their kitchen sink, Jemma looks out the window over the garden and decides that today will be the day the strawberry plants go in.

“We already planted raspberries,” Fitz murmurs sleepily, curling his arm around their wet and squirmy son so he doesn’t roll off the edge of their bed, “do we really need strawberries too?”

She rolls her eyes as she pulls a worn cable-knit jumper over her head. “Do you like jam?”

“We’re making our own jam now?” He folds his other arm beneath his head, blinking less deliberately as he comes into himself. His eyes are already affectionate, even half-asleep—though they always are, these days. “I must say, Simmons, I never imagined you would be such a housewife.”

“That’s a bit bold coming from the man who created a Pintrest account for nursery inspiration.”

He makes a bit of a face, turning his head to stage-whisper at Archie. “She’ll never let me live that down, but she cried when she saw it. Don’t let her convince you it was hormones.”

“Anyway, I already bought the plants,” she says over her shoulder on the way to the ensuite. “And we’ll have fresh strawberries whenever we like, all summer long, and when your mother comes we can have strawberry tarts from our own garden.”

read more ridiculous gardening fluff on Ao3

Imagining Khadgar with different champions is fun.

. Like imagine Khadgar with a little gnome champion who likes riding on his shoulders, telling him about their inventions and asking for his input. Resting their head on his as they walk around Dalaran

Or a dwarf champion who tries to convince him to grow out his beard again. They want to braid it okay. It was an impressive beard.

A worgen champion who once was so relieved to see him alive after a nasty battle they licked his face. Khadgar promises not to tell anyone. He won’t tell anyone about their love of belly rubs either.

Draenei champion who shares his burning hatred of Gul'dan and the legion. They drop kick a demon and Khadgar has to admit those hooves look like they would fucking hurt. Shame they didn’t get gul'dan right in the..

. A pandaren who loves picking him up over his shoulders and is constantly plying him with food. He takes shit care of himself and they’re going to fix that okay. Half the time he forgets to eat or stays up for days at a time. Hell no. You get your ass in bed and eat those noodles: Khadgar really doesn’t mind no matter what he says.

of course a human champion who’s muscles are the size of their head but they’ll sit there in comfortable and silence while they both read and occasionally comment on what they’re reading.

night elf champion who he can talk to for hours and never run out of things to talk about. There’s so much he wants to know. Imagine what they could have learned in thousands of years. (Diily!)

don’t worry I didn’t forget the hordies. An orc who loves rough housing him but is genuinely upset when they think they hurt him. They do enjoy picking him up and lugging him over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes when he gets to reckless much to his displeasure.

a troll champion (Shadowphoenixrider!!) who’s raptor adores him as much as their master does. Also lbr Khadgar would be genuinely curious about the voodoo. STAY AWAY FROM THE VOODOO, MON

undead champion who Khadgar spends an hour helping after they lose another one of their fingers oops. No biggie though. Khadgar is convinced he can definitely fix it somehow just let him find the right spell…

a Tauren champion who is super careful around him no matter how many times he assures them he can handle himself just fine. He’s an archmage.

a blood elf champion who shares his passionate love of magic. But keeps an eye on him so he doesn’t go too far. Memories of Kael'thas still haunt them. They’ll keep him in check. (*coughlegendaryquestlinecough*)

a goblin champion who oh dear..has the same habit of blowing things up and almost killing people. But don’t worry they’ve got the jumper cables!

I met this guy on tinder. He was charming, handsome, and very well off financially. We messaged for about a week and decided to go out for a movie, and if that went well maybe to dinner. I promised myself I would never actually meet up with anyone on tinder and He was quite a few years older than I (me being 18, him 26), so I was a little timid to go through with it but I said what the hell. Let me first say that when I left my house, I noticed my battery light in my 1994 Chevy pick up truck go on. I brushed it off and figured it would be fine…I was wrong.
I finally get to the movie theatre (which was an hour away) to meet him and things went very well. We decided to go to grab some dinner and he tells me to follow him. We get to the restaurant and it ends up being closed so we get back in our cars and try a different place.
As I’m pulling out of the parking lot my truck stalls. He sees that I’m stopped in the middle of the road and turns around to come help. Neither of us has jumper cables so I get in his car to go to Meijer. We get back to my truck, he jumps it, the charge lasts for maybe 3 minutes and then stalls again. He ends up taking me to Meijer AGAIN to get a new battery and changes it for me right then and there. Once the battery was in and my truck was running fine, we had a quick make out sesh in my truck until we realized it was then 3am and we both had work in the morning. I thanked him, promised him a second date, and went on my way. Half way home the new battery dies and I have to call a tow truck to get me to an auto place near my house. 9 hours and $400 later, I’m finally home and promised myself to never go on a tinder date again.

dailymail.co.uk
Benedict Cumberbatch enjoys country walk in the Cotswolds
Benedict Cumberbatch was spotted heading out for a solo stroll in the Cotswolds in Oxfordshire, enjoying some fresh air and a break from his daddy duties.

New dad Benedict Cumberbatch enjoys a country walk in the Cotswolds… after becoming a father for the second time

By Kate Thomas for MailOnline PUBLISHED: 16:30 BST, 18 April 2017 | UPDATED: 16:49 BST, 18 April 2017

He’s been spending a quiet Easter with his family after welcoming a son with his wife Sophie Hunter.
And Benedict Cumberbatch was spotted heading out for a solo stroll in the Cotswolds in Oxfordshire, enjoying some fresh air and a break from his daddy duties.
The British actor was casually clad in a cable knit jumper and loose jeans, topping off the country chic look with suede boots.

Benedict ventured out alone without his wife and their two sons, Christopher, almost two, and baby Hal.

The star, 40, hasn’t been seen in public for a few weeks as he makes the most of his time with his newborn.
In true thespian style, Imitation Game actor named his boy after a Shakespearean hero.

Hal was the nickname Henry V had before he became the hero of Agincourt. But in choosing the name, Cumberbatch could also be acknowledging his affection for fellow screen star Tom Hiddleston.
The pair starred together in 2012 in The Hollow Crown, an amalgamation of Shakespeare’s history plays in which Cumberbatch played Richard III and Hiddleston took the role of Hal.
They have been close pals ever since meeting on the set of Steven Spielberg’s film War Horse in 2010.

‘We became friends for life,’ Hiddleston has said.
Sophie and the Sherlock star, 40, welcomed their son Christopher in June 2015, just a few months after their Valentine’s Day wedding.
Benedict has previously said he hoped to add to his brood, joking he might ‘go for a (Cumber)batch of boys.’
“London Fog” - One Shot

Curious about that Another Man photo where he was tearing up? Maybe this was why.

Rating: G (Fluffy and GROSS)

“Love, Love”, was the first thing you heard that morning, between small strokes on your cheek and kisses on your neck, his warm and completely bare body cradling you from behind now becoming more prominent as you woke up. It took you a beat to realize what was happening, before you could actually hear his voice. There was a slight tremor added to his normal morning grumble – but the thing you heard the most was enthusiasm, and even before you could physically see him, you could hear him smiling.

           Grinning, you snuggled yourself closer into him, feeling that he now had put some sort of underwear on his hips as you could feel the hair on his legs as you intertwined yours with his.

           “Hi”, you smiled and even though your sleepy eyes were closed, still, you kissed the bicep that was wrapped around the top of your head, his hand on his own ear as he smiled down at you, running a hand up your thigh, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

           “Time to get up, baby”, he cooed softly in your ear, his nose running along the edge of it, making you shiver and stretch, turning your head so you could fully see him and plant a kiss on his full lips, opening your eyes to find his tired ones pulled into a half-grin. He was looking at you, again – probably watching you sleep. But this morning was different – he was rushing somewhere and once you got your bearings straight, you realized that the sun wasn’t even blaring through the windows in his home in England. Either that or it was raining, but you didn’t hear anything.

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