#DISTRACTION

[igottatho]

[sucka99]

[what-marsha-eats]

[reality-detective]

Things that are not in the news anymore… 👇

-Maui wildfires.

-East Palestine, Ohio

-Joe Biden classified documents as a Senator.

-Fauci working with China to create a bioweapon.

-Pete Buttigieg’s best friend in prison for child porn.

-Cocaine in the White House. (TWICE NOW)

-The BLM and Antifa riots during 2020 causing BILLIONS of dollars of damage. And yes I brought this up on Juneteenth.

-The data collected from the Chinese spy balloons.

-Ukraine intelligence documents released that showed they were suffering massive losses and the American taxpayer was being lied to.

-Nancy Pelosi’s “documentary” film crew on J6.

-Veterans being kicked out of shelters to make room for illegals.

-Pizzagate “debunker” jailed for possession of child pornography.

-Gay porn film in Senate hearing room.

-Veterans Affairs prioritizing healthcare of illegals over Veterans.

-THE SOUTHERN BORDER CRISIS.

-Afghanistan drawdown and 13 service members killed in an attack on Kabul International Airport, that they hid the severity of it.

-Obama droning an American citizen in the Middle East.

-George Bush’s false WMDs.

-3 service members killed in Jordan.

-Hunter Biden making over $1M for “paintings”.

-J6 political prisoners that are still in jail.

-85,000 missing children at the southern border.

-Epstein’s clients.

-Obama coordinating with John Brennan and 4 other countries (5 eyes) to spy on the 2016 Trump campaign.

-Mail-in ballots were the cause of the stolen 2020 election.

-Jeffrey Epstein mentioning that Bill Clinton liked his girls “really young”.

-The (NOW TWO) airline whistleblowers that mysteriously died.

-Benghazi (I won’t mention anything more about this because I care about my life.)

-Nancy Pelosi’s daughter stating that January 6th wasn’t an insurrection.

-The January 6th committee destroying encrypted evidence before the GOP took over the House.

-Nancy Pelosi admitting that J6 was “her responsibility”.

-House Speaker Mike Johnson claiming there wouldn’t be foreign aid without border security in the bill, which was a lie.

-The recent riots from illegal criminal aliens at the southern border and the border in general.

-Hunter Biden not complying with a Congressional subpoena and deemed untouchable. Democrat privilege.

-Vaccine side effects.

-“Lab leak” out of China.

-The Secret Service having to basically guide Joe Biden everywhere he goes.

-Who leaked (Sotomayor) the SCOTUS Alito decision.

-Federal instigators inside the Capitol including pipe bomb evidence against them.

-Obama’s chef “passing away”.

-HRC’s chef “passing away”.

-The Sheriff that happened to be in Las Vegas (during the mass shooting) AND the wildfires in Hawaii.

-P Diddy sex-trafficking allegations. Where’s Diddy?

-Gonzalo Lira (an American journalist) that was killed in Ukraine

-Congress approving warrantless spying violating American’s 4th amendment rights while they are exempt.

-Americans that were left in foreign countries (Haiti, Palestine, Afghanistan).

-The billions of dollars of weaponry left in Afghanistan and the Taliban receiving $40M a week in “humanitarian assistance”.

-Biolabs found in California.

-Joe Biden’s impeachment.

-The scum in the UNITED STATES HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES waving the Ukrainian flag.

-The over 300k ballot images that could not be found in Fulton County, Georgia; the same county Donald Trump on trial for “election interference”.

-Democrats defunding the police causing massive rises in crime.

-Kamala Harris’s record as DA in California.

-The Transifesto from the school shooting.

-Many U.S. Representatives and Congress receiving FTX funds.

-They’re already working hard to bury Donald Trump’s àssassination attempt but we won’t let them bury that story. July 13th is never going away.

The distractions are out of control.

Share to show that legacy media is dead and that WE are the media now. 🤔

[lets-steal-an-archive]

For anyone wanting distraction...

A few general:

TV Writing

Script Slug

BBC Script Library

500+ Horror screenplays (1922 - present)

over 100 unproduced superhero screenplays

A few specific:

Charmed (1998) scripts

Doctor Who scripts: Classic Who, Whoniverse

Gilmore Girls scripts

Hannibal scripts

Highlander scripts

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia scripts

Kolchack: The Night Stalker scripts

Lost scripts

Rick and Morty scripts

The Simpsons scripts

Star Trek (TOS, TAS, TNG) scripts

Supernatural scripts (TV Writing mirror)

Xena: Warrior Princess scripts

The X-Files scripts

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[cyberianpunks]

perhaps the main achievement of our contemporary technological society is not the reduction of our dissatisfaction but greater sophistication in the ways we are distracted from this truth about our condition

[hazbinshusk]

part two of what I'm now calling the distraction series. (part one).

overlord!husk x fem!reader. husk thought if he could just taste you, his pretty little pet and personal assistant, he could get you out of his system. instead, he finds himself craving another session between your thighs. this time, he knows it will be enough for him to get over you and get his mind back on track. 2.5k

featuring: smoking, oral sex, dom/sub dynamics, husk calls reader a 'good girl'. reader is afab and fem presenting.

He can’t fucking forget the taste of you.

The gambling Overlord swallows down the familiar, honeyed burn of top shelf whiskey, eyes closing for a moment as he sighs. He though finally burying his face in your sweet little cunt would stop the never-ending thoughts of you and your thighs wrapped up in those sinful little stockings of yours.

But now, instead of the vague watercolors of desire his mind had painted before, he’s haunted by how you tasted, the way your voice had sounded as you’d moaned above him, all throaty and pitched. How your whole body had shuddered as you’d cum against his tongue.

And here you are, the dutiful assistant, working away as though he hadn’t tasted the rich ambrosia that comes from your cunt. And you’re still wearing a tight little skirt and those pretty little stockings. Only now the dark nylon has a cute little seam running down the back of your thighs as though marking a direct path for his mouth. You’re setting up the chips for tonight’s private game, and all he can think of is fucking you with his tongue.

Cigar smoke streams from his nose as he exhales, and he sets the half-gone stogie in the ashtray beside him. His golden eyes follow the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts when they peek out from your shirt as you set his share of chips in front of him. His eyes catch the hint of black and red lace, and his cock stirs as he wonders if it matches the lace wrapped around your thighs.

“Doll.” his voice comes smooth, and it’s softer than he intended.

Still, you look up immediately, and he takes pleasure in the way you flush when you meet his eye. You’d let the professional façade slip a few times since he’d had you on that armchair in his private quarters, but he didn’t see it as often as he would like.

A sudden pang of what someone else might unwisely call possessiveness tightens through his chest – he needs to know he’s affected you just as much as you have him. He finishes his drink, eyes still holding yours.

“On the table.”

Your eyes widen, heat flooding through you immediately at the cadence of his voice, at what he’s telling you to do. Your master hasn’t once addressed what he’d asked you to do in his penthouse since it happened, and you’d forced yourself to dutifully do the same. You know you’re not the only one of his owned souls that he’s brought to his private rooms, you probably weren’t even the only one that week. But that doesn’t stop your mind from reminding you of the experience every time you look at him. Or every time you slip your hand down between your thighs.

Just as before, Husk doesn’t repeat the instruction; he just watches you with those warm, golden eyes as you swallow back the nerves that suddenly bloom within you. You could say no – you’re somehow sure that even despite him owning your soul that he wouldn’t push you – but a smirk tilts his lips as he watches you and you nod slowly.

“Y-yes, sir.”

He pats the edge of the table in front of him. “Hands and knees.”

You nod again, placing the toe of you shoe on the edge of his seat so you can step up into a kneel on the table. Husk hums his approval as you do, the rolling baritone enough to set a shiver into the middle of your back. His claws just skim over your thigh as you pass him, catching briefly on your stockings before you set yourself on the felt in front of him. You feel exposed and vulnerable, and you exhale a shuddering breath, closing your eyes.

Your Overlord hums his approval but doesn’t move, and butterflies twist and scatter in your belly with anticipation. His chair shifts, he pulls it closer to the table, and you feel rather than see his hand move towards you.

Instead of touching you, however, you realize he picks up his cigar as you feel his breath blow a warm stream over the back of your thighs, the spicy, bitter scent of the smoke teasing at your senses. A whimper slips out of you, unbidden.

“You’ve been teasing me.”

He doesn’t say it as a question or an accusation, doesn’t say it in a way that asks for an explanation or an apology.

“…Sir?”

“You’re still a distraction,” he continues, his voice a rumble of whiskey and promised sin. “And I’m wonderin’, doll, if you’re doin’ it on purpose.”

The felt is rough under your palms and your knees ache against the firm edge of the table. Your instinct is to turn and to meet his eye as you defend yourself, but something… his voice or your willingness, your need to obey? keeps you from doing so. Instead, you train your eyes on the opposite wall, swallow back your nerves.

“I wouldn’t—”

“No?” he asks, and you can picture the disbelieving arch of his brow. “You mean you don’t wear these for me?”

He trails his claws up over your calves and up along the back of your thighs, tracing the pin-up style line of your stockings. They slow, setting a glacial, teasing pace up to the hem of your skirt.

“You don’t wear these hopin’ that I’ll notice?”

“I—”

Husk’s paws curl around the hem of your skirt, tugging it slowly upward. You can’t help but shiver as he lifts it, the tight fabric sliding up towards the curve of your ass, revealing the suspenders you have holding this pair of stockings in place. His breath teases over your thighs, sending goosebumps up over your skin. “You don’t wear this tight little skirt… for me?”

He stops with the fabric bunched so that he can see just the barest sliver of your underwear, and he smirks, pupils blown wide as he finds bright red covering you instead of the expected black. He swallows, the sudden burn of sharper arousal making him ache, and he sets his cigar aside to instead palm his burgeoning erection through his pants.

“I expect an answer, pet.” he tells you firmly, and the rough edge to his voice is such a turn on that you answer automatically, too quickly to consider whether its smart to tell him the truth.

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he hums approvingly, and those two words make your breath catch. How many times had you thought about the way he said just that since the last time he’d had you like this? “Now, how about these…”

He pushes the skirt up higher, sighing happily as he reveals your underwear fully – scarlet lace covers your cunt, the back of your underwear barely more than a thong, hugging the curves of your ass while leaving most of it exposed to his hungry, possessive gaze. “…sinful fucking panties. D’you wear these for me? D’you wrap yourself up all neat and tidy in these pretty little panties in the hopes I’ll see ‘em?”

“Sir…” you breathe, biting your lip.

He hooks a claw almost idly under the edge of your underwear, sliding it ever so slowly down towards your sex, watching the red lace slide over the sharp edge of it. “Or is my pet wearin’ this for someone else, hm?”

You shake your head hurriedly, breathing growing more and more unsteady with every inch his claw traveled. “Just you, sir. Only you.”

Husk’s smirk widens, using the claw he has hooked in your underwear to tug it down to your thighs. You whine as he slides the dull side of his claw between your legs, the sound making Husk’s ears flick forward. He watches with wide pupils and a switching, predatory tail as he touches your clit and your thighs tremble.

“Already so wet for me, pet.” He murmurs, almost to himself, inhaling the sweet scent of your arousal. It takes more than he’d admit for the Overlord not to just bury his face between your legs… but he wants to savor this. Savor you. “So eager… you’ve been hopin’ daddy would do this again.”

A breathy, quiet moan slips past your lips as you answer. “Yes, sir.”

“So…” he presses a kiss to one of your thighs, above the lace of the band of your stockings, just beside the suspender holding it up. “What do we do…” he kisses your other thigh. “When we want something?”

Fuck, you feel like you’re on fire. Every inch of you is screaming for his touch, and the way he’s ghosting his claw over your clit is barely a whisper against it. You need more.

“Please, sir…”

“Ohh…” Husk breathes appreciatively, sliding his paws up your thighs. He grips your ass, kneading into the muscle firmly enough that his claws prick your flesh. Between that and the rough cadence of his voice, you’re helpless against him. “Don’t you sound so pretty when you say ‘please’…”

You moan throatily as Husk finally brings his mouth to your cunt, spreading your labia with his cold nose and inhaling deeply. Your eyes roll back at the first touch of his tongue to your clit, your teeth digging so hard into your bottom lip that you taste cooper.

Nothing compares to the rough texture of his tongue… the memory of it had been driving you insane, burning through your mind most nights since you’d last felt it between your legs.

Husk feasts on you, high on the taste of your sweet, addictive cunt. He groans into your pussy, the sound melting into a steady, rumbling purr that makes you shiver and whine as it vibrates through you. his paws give your ass another squeeze before he wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you firmly in place as you buck against his mouth.

Fuck, he needed this. Needed you.

And maybe some more sober part of him would remind him sometime soon of the dangers of needing anyone like this beyond the hour or two he spends with him… but he was never particularly good at sober. And right now… right now, he was completely lost on the way you taste and the way you grind back against his tongue.

“Good girl…” he mutters into your soaking flesh, one hand slipping around to tease your clit. He smirks in satisfaction as you buck under his touch, your head falling forward, eyes unfocused on the felt. His mouth moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses over the insides of your thighs, and you gasp as he nips at the sensitive flesh, leaving possessive marks on your skin. “Look so pretty in red…”

His mouth returns to your cunt and he presses his tongue into you, desperate to taste every drop of the ambrosia you’re dripping onto his muzzle. He fucks you with his tongue roughly, growling into you as he urges you into thrusting back into his face. You moan loud enough that your throat aches with the sound. Any part of you that may worry you’ll be heard by the other staff in the hall is too busy with the feeling of Husk’s mouth between your legs to care.

You cum suddenly when he pinches your clit, and Husk echoes your moan as you soak his muzzle.

“Fuck, pet…” he laps at your quivering hole, the barbs of his tongue making your arms shake so much they threaten to give out beneath you. “Such a perfect little slut for daddy…”

Your shuddering as his tongue meets your clit again, and Husk wraps his hand around his hard, aching cock, coating the length of it in your cum. The feeling of it conjures thoughts of you in his lap of bent over his bed, that tight furnace of a pussy wrapped around his cock.

He strokes it with a steady hand, forehead bumping against the curve of your ass as he catches his breath. “Tell me, doll… how does it feel?”

“So good, sir…” you whine, body jerking forward as he runs his tongue over your clit again. “Oh… fuck, it feels so good. You feel so good… so nice to me, sir. Thank you.”

Husk moans, and you feel him shudder.

“Thank you,” you repeat breathlessly, body seizing with another orgasm. You fall forward, his claws digging into your hip holding your up on your knees even as your forehead grazes the felt. “Oh, thank you, daddy, thank you…”

“God… shit…” Husk groans pulling away from you. “On your knees for me, pet.”

Your body is still jerking with sensation as you do as he asks on shaking legs. Clambering awkwardly off of the table and almost collapsing onto your knees in front of him. Your hands find his thighs automatically for balance, and Husk growls, low in his throat.

His eyes are glazed and still burning with hunger for release as he looks down at you, his paw quickening around his cock. “Fuckin’… look at you…”

You open your mouth automatically, tongue slipping over your swollen bottom lip, and he curses under his breath. Your fingers smooth over his thighs, and you feel his tail against your ass, still bared with your skirt pushed up around your waist. Hooked on the sound of his heavy breathing, on the way he’s looking at you, you move instinctively, and Husk moans as your tongue touches the head of his cock, eyes rolling back.

He cums on your face and in your mouth, marking your pretty lips and cheeks with his seed. You whimper at the taste of him and Husk continues to pump his cock until it begins to soften in his hand.

He grins lazily, approvingly, as you lick your lips and swallow, his claws coming up to briefly push hair away from your face, better showing off the mess he’s made of you.

Then, he reaches into the inside of his jacket, pulling a fresh cigar out of the inner pocket. He cuts the end with a couple of claws, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly as he sets it between his teeth. You scrabble for your matchbook, and Husk hums his amused approval as you pull it out from where it was tucked into the band of your stockings. He leans down as you rise up on your knees, bringing his face down to yours as you strike a match and hold it to the end of the cigar.

The smoke he exhales makes your eyelashes flutter as it curls around your face, and he watches through heavily-lidded eyes as you tuck the matchbook away again. His claws grip the arm of the chair as you do just as you had last time, tucking his softening cock back into his pants and refastening them.

“That’s my good pet,” he praises, and you smile, feeling his cum against your cheeks as they move. “How long ‘til my guests arrive?”

You glance at the clock behind him and flush. Your voice is hoarse, bedroom-lilted. “They sh-should be here in ten minutes, sir.”

He grins, lascivious. “Best clean yourself up then, pet. Can’t have the other players seein’ just how much of a mess you are, can we?”

[classycookiexo]

[lifemod17]

The outro in Distraction where he repeats "it's too late for me" send post

[nocturnvls]

Kehlani | Distraction | NPR Tiny Desk

[bradandchris]

Chris threw in the last towel for his burgeoning line of men's underwear after learning his boyfriend Brad sourced the prototypes by purchasing them directly from SKIMS.

Finally connecting why they took a sheet to the beach that one day, Brad found it difficult to pay attention to a lecture on copyright infringement from someone involved in such an oversight debacle. It was also hard not to wonder what the grey skintight suit might look like wet.

Brad was far from alone. Everyone in the closest row of cabana's would hold their breath every time Brad took a small step backwards toward the pool in his highly animated and passionate speech oddly championing someone with billions, a team of lawyers, and the law already in their favor.

She was also a lawyer herself... or at minimum on her way. It was difficult to keep up with bar exam news between Klhoe's lackluster clap back's and finding yourself justifying why not a single man has managed to remain on the show despite secretly feeling not so hot about that. It was a lot with nowhere to go, especially considering the level of sophistication fronted.

Brimming with frustration at his boyfriend's antics, Chris snapped and rushed Brad midsentence to land them both squarely in the pool. Everyone on deck was already on the edge of their seat as they surfaced.

Well… Let's just say Kim K deserves every single dollar she has as the pool deck literally broke out in applause at the sheer glean and mind-blowing accentuation of Brad's perfect nipples. It was breathtaking. It was the only time the two of them wished California was more humid and colder.

Despite the gray suit's flawlessness, Brad and Chris still managed to one up the design. The incident inspired them to launch a new brand of swimwear composed completely of dissolvable materials called ‘Sorry But Not Sorry SKIMMY.’ The initial investor would convince Brad and Chris to shorten the name to ‘But SKIMMY’ to transform it into the ultimate macho answer to the curvaceous clothing line.

Ironically, Brad and Chris’ venture would fail because no one could materialize a profitable dissolvable.

[thirdity]

In the course of general acceleration and hyperactivity we are also losing the capacity for rage. Rage has a characteristic temporality incompatible with generalized acceleration and hyperactivity, which admit no breadth of time. The future shortens into a protracted present. It lacks all negativity, which would permit one to look at the Other. In contrast, rage puts the present as a whole into question. It presupposes an interrupting pause in the present... The general distraction afflicting contemporary society does not allow the emphasis and energy of rage to arise. Rage is the capacity to interrupt a given state and make a new state begin. Today it is yielding more and more to offense or annoyance, "having a beef", which proves incapable of effecting decisive change.

Byung-chul Han, The Burnout Society

[reality-detective]

[epically-epic-epicosity]

The jig appears to be up, Cheeto Who Cried Wolf:

[sadghostgirl14]