#distract me with something funny

[evansbby]

oh my god you guys i feel like complete and utter shit

[macksartblock]

beware of burnout it's so real i'm afraid

also bc ended up making my writing into a font to avoid killing my hand as much and bc I saw Caden do this, I thought it would be fun to see who y'all think it suits lol

[skitskatdacat63]

Google, play "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[quinn-pop]

never posted this but im pretty sure this was the first metadede i drew (prolly last April?)

[confusedkittensposts]

There should have been Crowley and Rowena flirting with Castiel in the same episode for a similar motive, or just like that (preferably in presence of other)

[moe-broey]

I def wanna color these when I have the energy BUT..... back on a Pokemon kick.... ever so slightly......... also second sketch is so rough SORRY (I DO WANNA CLEAN IT UP!!! But I was mostly focused on conceptualizing the outfits!!!!)

I have soooo many other sketches too but I wanna save em for later.... but let it be known, this is just an elaborate excuse to play dress-up. Esp for Moe I'm gonna be so real, it has SUCH A SILLY OUTFIT and it is SO. SOOOOOO jackass rival coded. Guy who is gonna pick fights and cause problems for NO reason. Or for gay reasons. Most likely gay reasons tbh

[charles-leclerc-official]

You talk so much about people calling the sf24 a tractor but you do the same with the rb20 exaggerating the issues etc

I didn't call the RB20 a tractor. My issue is I just don't think the farm tool analogies are funny for a car that's won races. You're free to disagree.

And I stand by my critique of the RB20. I end up having to defend the SF-24 more simply because people love to specifically shit on the Ferrari car the moment it isn't perfect.

[iwillstabyou]

Ahhhh well if it isn’t my old friend, the crushing feeling of never truly being understood despite your endless attempts to articulate yourself, paying me another visit

[sincerely-sofie]

In response to my post mentioning being baffled by my younger brother naming a tynamo after me when he was playing Pokémon for the first time as a little kid, my boyfriend made a chart to compare and contrast + showcase the many similarities I apparently share with this Pokémon.

[iactuallytryingtolovemyself]

bottom he xuan be like

get's railed while thinking !!evil!! thoughts

[hauntingblue]

Last arcane episode ever..... here we fucking go....

[ratatatastic]

do you write fic on ao3?

unfortunately for everyone involved i do!

[hollowsart]

🔮 🤔 💭 👖??

[mariocki]

Patrick Troughton guests as ruthless racketeer George, out to silence the man who can identify his brother as a murderer, in Dial 999: Key Witness (1.26, ABC, 1959)

[mariatesstruther]

okay but wait @bumblepony u GENIUS. you gave me an idea:

mariatommy step up au

in which pro-dancer maria miller is in desperate need of a waltz partner for the american dance championships. to her rescue comes tommy miller, the younger and more troublesome and secretly phenomenal swinging-dancing brother of famous ex swing-dancer, joel miller

guess what i did 😋 i made it long

so we start with pro-dancer maria miller as she wins as many dance titles as she possibly can, trying to prove to her mother that quitting law school for dance was worth it. she’s already been taking home a fuck ton of titles as a ballet and lyrical soloist, but lately she’s been interested in smooth forms of ballroom, like the waltz and tango

a good friend of hers, frank, has been her partner for three months, and they’ve been unbeatable so far. literally every competition she they shows up at, other dancers will groan and rolls their eyes like “aw come on bro this is unFAIR” because they already know who first place is going to: maria motherfucking miller. every goddamn time

then, four titles in and two months away from their biggest competition, frank tragically breaks an ankle doing some stupid gardening shit with bill. and it is exactly that: a tragedy. he’s maria miller’s partner, and now he can no longer be that. he might as well be a dead man

frank makes bill tell maria, both because it was his idea to have sex do work in the garden and because he’s too scared to. when he does, she cusses him out so bad that, for once in his life, he has no grumpy smartass response. maria is fucking pissed—because that entire competition, that title, that trophy is supposed to be fucking hers. they already have the perfect choreography, the perfect costumes, the perfect music, the perfect everything. she’s already made space on her awards wall for the crown, the sash, and three-their trophy. this is a batrayal, frank. how could he do this to her????? how could he?????

but maria miller does not dwell on problems: she fixes them. she has replace bill or withdraw from the competition—which she has never done in her entire life. withdrawing, like losing, is not an option. she needs another partner, and she needs one fast

of course homegirl tess would come through—her best friend, retired fellow dancer, and one of the most reputable talent managers in the region. maria calls tess hoping to get in touch with her ex-partner, joel miller, because she wants only the best. he’s known and respected in the dance world as an amazing swing dancer and phenomenal lead in partner-work—much to her chargrin, unfortunately, he’s not dancing anymore. he’s apparently too busy with a new baby, which—great, beautiful, kids are great—does not help her. maria needs someone available, someone good, and someone now

enter tommy miller 🤠 who maria is at first not even willing to consider, because he’s never danced competitively in his entire fucking life (“are you fucking with me, tess? are you trying to fuck with me? i thought we were past the point of fucking with eachother. i though we were friends.” she says, when tess tells her. she gets an eye-roll in response)

to his credit, tess tells her, he’s been dancing alongside his joel all his life. he’s watched him and learned from him and is apparently just as good—he’s even danced with tess, and he impressed her. this impressed maria. when she asks tess why he hasn’t done anything officially to actually prove himself, tess says he’s “not the competitive type,” which is a major turn-off. maria is more than the competitive type—she’s the competition entirely.

still, tess convinces her to give him a chance. they basically meets blind-date style because tess is just like “dude just trust me trust me TRUST ME. meet him at our studio on saturday and freestyle with him. one song. then tell me what you think”

so maria goes, and she waits. she’s dutifully ten minutes early, as she is to every rehearsal. what would be five minutes before their meet time, she hears the studio doors open behind her and lets herself be only a little pleased that he is early. then she turns around to him—and boy, is she very much so pleased

tommy is broad-shouldered and well-dressed and tall, but not too tall, and well-groomed for a man—especially with one with so much hair. my god, just this man have a beautiful head of hair. as admires him, she also appreciates that (aside from his audaciously hot suede fur-lined jacket and cowboy boots, lord help her), he look’s ready to dance: black loose muscle tank, black breathable joggers, and black sneakers held in his left hand. in his right hand, to her suprise, is a single red rose.

is he fucking with me? she immediately thinks. a rose. a fucking rose?

“what’s that for?”

“uh, the rose? it’s���,” he hesitates, clearly thrown off guard. somehow, with only three measly words, maria notices that his voice is nice and low and gravely and— “it’s for you, ma’am. you’re maria, right?” —southern and sexy and distracting. his voice is far too distracting. it will present problems for her.

“right. i’m maria,” she repeats, mostly to remind herself who she fucking is—maria fucking miller. maria miller, who does not get distracted by tall sexy cowboys at dance rehearsals. “you’re tommy?”

“yes, ma’am.” he has to stop. he has to stop with the ma’am thing. it’s another distractor.

no distractions. she’s at a rehearsal, albiet an unofficial trial one. it is still a rehearsal—one for a competition that she will win.

maria straightens her shoulders, gets her head on straight, and steels her voice to say coldly: “well, tommy, i don’t like flowers. i like trophies. you think you can get me one of those?”

at that, tommy smiles as bright as the sun, white and pearly and perfect. distraction number three. she’s fucked. “i reckon i can,” he says, amused and sure.

“then prove it,” she responds, voice still steely. “let’s dance.”

and they do

for @bumblepony for your amazing writing as always and @marceltheshellwithflipflopson for your loveliness and inspiration and @clickergossip wifey and @ameerawrites miss u baby and @liveandletcry23 MISS U CAT and @hypnotisedfireflies because the work youve been doing with IO????? INCREDIBLE????? its been making me want to get back to writing so bad

all my mariatommy truthers love u guys kiss kiss kiss