#who is this and why is she writing on my tumblr

[hannahluvsbillie]

was it ever casual?

part 1

✮ pairing : billie eilish x reader

✮ cw: nothing too heavy, angst (kind of)

ᡣ𐭩 a/n: sorry for the wait!! my tumblr hasn’t been letting me post anything! but we’re here now and that’s all that matters. thank you sm for all the love on part one, it means everything to hear you like my writing 🥺🥺

the rain pitter patters on the window of billie’s car, it was pitch black with the exception of a few small streetlights in the empty parking lot.

it was damn near silent in the car, only the sounds of soft music playing were heard.

at least it was, until you got a notification.

you pick up your phone from the console, seeing a text from some random person you gave your number to at a party last week because he wouldn’t stop bugging you.

“hey, wanna meet up soon? still in la for the week.”

the text read.

billie’s eyes glance over at your phone, out of your peripheral vision you see her brows furrow at the message.

your eyes dart to billie, and you immediately put your phone down. not wanting her to see the message.

this just makes her brows furrow further, and her face contort a little.

“who’s that?” she asks, her voice stern. the hand that was once on your thigh moves back to her own, silently telling you she’s suspicious.

“don’t worry about it.” you say, glancing over at her and putting your phone under your thigh. you didn’t intent to mock her statement from the last meet up you had, but it just came out.

these past few times you’ve hung out with her, you’ve been noticing the abundance of notifications she gets while you’re together. you try to comfort yourself by saying it’s just her friends, or her family blowing up her phone. but you know, you know it’s other girls.

“im worried about it, who else is talking to my girl?” she states, the smallest hint of playfulness in her voice.

“my girl.” the nickname always seemed to find its way into her words while she was with you, but the once meaningful nickname that used to give you butterflies has lost meaning. how many other girls does she call “my girl” ?

you look away, you find yourself feeling annoyed at her words. she does the same shit to you, so why should she be mad about it?

“it’s not like we’re dating.” you say, glancing over at her only to see her brows raised at your comment. you were never this feisty with her, what did she do?

she moves her head just enough to look into your eyes, her brows still raised in surprise. “yeah, we aren’t. but i wanna know if my girl’s talking to someone else.” she says coldly.

your brows raise, matching her expression. you shake your head in disbelief, how could she be so dismissive?

“billie, you do the same fucking thing.” you say, your voice seems to have lost that soft, sweet, gentle tone it regularly has when you speak to billie.

“that’s- that’s different ma.” she says, feeling like she’d just been called out on her bullshit.

you shake your head once again, your hands fiddle with themselves in your lap.

“how is that any different? they blow up your phone constantly and when i ask you about it you brush me off.” you say softly, turning your head to meet her gaze.

she rolls her eyes at your response, starting to get agitated with you.

“because you’re my girl y/n. no one else’s.” she says, her eyes shooting darts into yours.

that doesn’t sound very causal, but to hell with causal at this point.

“i wish i could say that about you billie.” you say, shooting her a glare.

“oh my god- baby. we’ve been through this a million times. they don’t mean anything to me.” she says, her voice starting to get more cold by the second. how could she just lie to you like that?

you turn to face her, you can’t hold back anymore.

“bullshit.” you say coldly, her eyebrows raise in response.

“if i meant anything to you i wouldn’t be sitting in your car at 1 in the morning- let alone letting you eat me out in your car, or only meeting with you in secluded places, or the fact you won’t text me back for a week. it’s like im only here when your bored.” you ramble, finally letting your feelings spill out. it felt nice to call her out, even though you knew she wouldn’t tell the truth.

“baby- y/n- you know damn well it’s not like that.” she says, looking at you with furrowed brows.

in all honesty, billie didn’t know you felt like that. so what she’d talk to other girls, you were still the one she saw the most.

“so what is it then?” you ask sharply, furrowing your brows at her. you had to swallow the lump that was forming in your throat.

she looks away, trying to think of a way to possibly answer that question.

“we’re just- a casual thing y/n, don’t act like it’s more then that because it’s not.” she says coldly, her response shooting daggers into your heart.

a moment of silence falls between billie and you, neither of you knew what to say, or what was the right thing to do.

but you knew one thing, you couldn’t keep doing this with her. if that’s how she really feels, then you two aren’t on the same page.

it’s not causal when you look at her like she hung the damn stars every time she speaks.

“just- take me home billie.” you say, looking into her eyes. you were so tired of begging for her to choose you. it’s all that you’ve done is beg for her attention this whole- situationship. or whatever the fuck you wanted to call it.

she scoffed in disbelief, shaking her head. her hand went down to the shift and put the car into drive.

“god damn it- fine.”

[mrssoapmactavish]

penny for your thoughts

content warning: mature themes, talk of death, gore, violence, mature language.

synopsis: flukey and ghost have a chat about the inevitability of the end. they make a promise that neither of them reach that point prematurely.

flukey is an oc.

in the words of her lieutenant, fuckin' hell.

flukey hadn't been this unfortunate on a mission since she was a rookie, back in days long past.

but alas, here she is, self-barricaded on the roof of a compromised building on a black-ops mission, a stab wound in her thigh placed in such a position that she'd need a bit of physical therapy and proper recovery to ensure she isn't limping for the rest of her days.

if she doesn't die on this mission, her mind curses, she'll be absolutely fucked.

a deep breath leaves her as she keeps one hand pressed against the make-shift bandaging she's used, the warmth of her life-giving liquid seeping out under her fingers, staining her skin.

"this is bravo 0-7, flukey, how copy?" there's the voice she's used to. the stoic tone of her manchester lieutenant, finally coming through. if there was a god, he'd be right stoked. "bravo 0-7, flukey, how copy?"

the aussie reaches for the walkie strapped to her vest, reaching and pressing the button, her voice much more strained than she would've liked it to be. can't be weak in front of your CO, eh? not when that bugger's taken more than a few bullets in front of ya.

"this is flukey, solid copy." is all she can get out, letting go of the button and letting out a deep exhale and a groan of pain, the last of the adrenaline having finally worn off, leaving her in nothing but agony.

"thought you were gone." ghost grumbles over the comms, making a soft laugh leave her trembling lips, fingers going to clamp around the button. "fuckin' nearly did, one of those cunts got me good."

there's a pause on the other end of the line, before a gruff little sigh leaves her superior. "keep those eyes open, fluke. give me some landmarks so i can find you."

"could just drop a flare, it's a fuckin' ghost town 'round here. what with how many squirters got dropped," flukey responds, a soft sigh leaving her as she feels her pulse start to fluctuate under the hand on her wound.

"that gives you away. landmarks, fluke." there's that tone again, the one that says 'i'm the boss man, listen to me or die.'

"shit, ghost, you're really pullin' me bum leg here," she jokes, though because it's met with silence, she sighs softly. "m'on the big skyscraper, one with the fuckin' thirty floors of windows. f'i look over the ledge, i can see a fountain, fuckin' city plaza."

another moment of her pained silence, struggling to keep herself both awake and grounded, until that voice chimes in; "was that so hard?"

"respectfully, sir, get stuffed." "glad to see you've got enough energy to get mouthy."

now that is funny, at least to flukey's blood-loss addled mind, too straddled with the impending possibility of permanent corpse status, so she laughs, unrestrained and pained, over the line.

"coulda used a big ol' shadow like you out there, lt. maybe it'd be a grave 'stead of this bullshit, got me bludgin' around. not sure i'll even make it outta this, sir." her mind is slipping away from herself, but her tongue is looser than ever– which is saying something, since she knows why bloody mactavish always gets her right hosed.

she can hear him in her head, right now. "flukey, if ye're gonna convince me you can knock back a few pints, ye've got to keep yer mouth shut 'bout it, steamin jesus, hen."

"you will make it out of this, sergeant. keep those eyes open. talk if you have to." ghost's voice is, quite honestly, the only thing keeping her fighting off that urge to just rest, close her eyes, let sleep swallow her whole.

"aw, ghost, y'gettin' all soft on me. not so much of an ankle biter now, am i?" "watch it, fluke. no one's here but us, no one'll know you died of strangulation." "takin' the piss, aye? here i was, thinkin' you an' johnny were a couple o'..." a cough interrupts her sentence, appropriately shutting her up, a satisfied rumble leaving the lieutenant because of it. can't have her insinuating he's getting busy with his sergeant, after all!

"aye, lt. penny for y'thoughts?" fluke speaks, voice soft and quiet, her eyes wandering down to the somewhat exposed skin around the gash, watching carefully as she eyes her fingertips turning a tint of white best left for ghosts made from sheets.

or the mask, her mind readily supplies.

"worth more than that," ghost grunts, entertaining her words, if not to keep her from retreating into the ending moments of her life, to see if everything really does flash before your eyes like they say.

"mm, how 'bout a pint then? pint for yer thoughts? and f'christ's sake, ghost, if i hear a joke, 'll fuckin' bury you out in the bush behind me house." she suggests, in no place or state of mind to be threatening the man willing to scale such a large building– likely not fully clear, to be plain– in order to save her.

"pint sounds fair," the man's voice rumbles, before he's quiet a moment. "entering the building. hang in there."

fluke isn't aware of how long her eyes close, though she's torn from the warm, loving embrace of death herself by the voice coming through her walkie.

"think you're not that lucky this time." "aww, bugger off." this is enough to get a rare, subtle chuckle from the lieutenant, M4 raised as he continues to sweep the building floor by floor, making his way up to the sergeant in distress.

"... think you're too young to be out here, dyin' on me." the man tells her, quiet honesty being enough to give the woman a small surge of confidence and keep her awake just a bit longer.

"so 've grown on ye, aye? cheeky. good on ye, finally gettin' in touch with your feelins', daft cunt." another laugh, this one bringing a ring of panic into ghost's mind, one that urges him to hurry the fuck up.

"think we make a deal, you and i." "yeh? what'ye want, my fuckin' leg? y'can take it, f'you get me outta here." "not quite. think we need to watch each other's back a bit more."

there's silence for a moment, flukey finally speaking up again. "sentimental. keep talkin'."

"neither of us dies out on the field. how's that for a deal?"

the prospect, especially when you feel so close to seeing your family up in the peaceful beyond, seems incredulous. though, even if it's a dying woman's wish, might as well humour him, one last time.

"...alright, sappy bugger. ye got yerself a deal." she answers, closing her eyes to rest again, the voice on the other line tapering off in the recesses of her mind, echoing like a bell in a clock tower.

it's not that much longer before her body, mostly limp, is lifted from the top of the roof by a rough brit who prays to a god long forgotten by him that the redhead makes it back to base alive enough that he hears about some shitty story of the outback.

[nostalgia-tblr]

I watched Avengers: Age of Ultron (apart from I skipped some overly long action sequences) and I am not sure so can someone tell me whether or not Tony Stark was the baddy in that film? Because about halfway through I was sure he was but then it was maybe just an evil robot after all and I am confused because either this film was surprisingly subversive or it was about robots hitting each other.

[leclerced]

max is my ride or die i got into f1 a carlos girlie but i’m a max girlie for now and forever. he’s just so!!! i saw a picture of him out in public a couple weeks ago (never in my life have i seen an advertisement for f1 or like, brand sponsorships with drivers in my country) and i giggled so much i had to be dragged away im so unnormal about him (kinda weird now that i think about it but oh well im just a girl).

you know how there’s the whole scenarios of “fucking the english out of someone”. that but max fucking the dutch into his girl where he’ll only let her come if she’s spoken to him in dutch yeah i need him so bad

- 🌙

no its ok i buy redbull bc of him so i can get the cans w him on it 🤭 im only a girl. its good for the economy.

crying that’s a max thing to do and he would tauntingly say whatever he wanted her to repeat back to him until she did, every time she begs, he repeats the same dutch phrase back to her or says he can’t understand her until she finally says it and she can’t stop saying it

[scalematey]

look i know lots of people have said this but i think one thing that homestuck does well when it can be bothered to is allowing women to be fucked up and awful and complex and bizarre. like. even when they’re not the protagonists. even when they’re unsympathetic. even when they’re ambiguously the protagonists. even when they decide to make themselves the protagonists. yeah anyway this post is abt vris

[cuteniaarts]

2 hour rough drawing of Ehuang, my precious Green Opal child who I don’t draw nearly enough <3

[unnamed-atlas]

Finally finished sweet tooth s3. Having incredibly mixed feelings

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[amalgamationink]

NAPOWRIMO24 #26: Feed Your Inner Child

[hella1975]

me: yeah i didn't project too badly onto taob haha *sees a quote from taob randomly on a tiktok webweave about girlhood*

[achaotichuman]

Consuming

This is an original piece, I made. 2nd POV. Entails a character who sees and feels death around them and what happens when they finally meet them.

Trigger Warning- Slight horror and gore.

You’d seen death before. 

Knocking on the window, standing in the corridor. Waiting outside of hospitals you drove past. You’d always known it was there. 

Okay, maybe you hadn’t seen death himself. But you could feel his presence. Looming over the cradle of your dying baby brother. Standing in the corridor that let to your grandmother’s bedroom. Waiting at hospitals that housed the sick and injured. 

When your brother died you were sitting up in your bed. You had awoken because of a strange dream. You had been jumping on a trampoline, when you flipped you never hit the netting below. Rather you floated, staring at the sky as it began to erupt in a lightshow of flames. Fire fell down upon, lighting up the trees and consuming the earth. You felt at home in the heat. 

Your body jolted awake, and as you looked over across the room, to the old cradle that had been put in your room. You felt him. Standing there. You imagine what he looked like. Maybe like in the movies with a black coat and scythe. You thought about what his skin would look like. Maybe pale as the white cotton sheets squeezed between your then small chubby fingers. Or perhaps darker than your brown teddy bear, fallen to the floor from your thrashing sleep. 

When your brother’s breath was stolen, you felt ice in your veins. You didn’t remember what happened next, but then again it was so long ago. 

The next time you felt him was when your grandmother died. Middle of the afternoon with the lazy sunlight gleaming in through the windows. Splattering across your face, you felt its warmth as something distant, when the coldness overtook you again. Locking your limbs in place. You knew he was here as the panic throbbed through your chest. But what is a six-year-old to do when they feel something is wrong but are too young to understand what death is? You knew he was there but understood him as a child understood how math worked. It simply was something, a concept but not registered as something important to them. 

So you stared, as your mother passed you to bring your grandmother soup, she had been feeling ill lately. You listened to her open the door and call her mother, then ask again in a more panicked tone. Before the sound of the soup bowl shattering to the ground rang through the house. Your mother began to scream and you began to cry. 

Yes, you had seen death before. But not like this. You had observed him, watched him, felt him. Like winter passing through the world. But you had never met him. 

You were in a dream, you knew you were. Everything was nothing like the real world. 

You stood in a corridor. That same corridor. You heard a baby crying. Screaming, it was in pain, you felt it. You knew it in your veins. Panic was rising in your, begging for your body to go after the infant, but you could not move. Not even as you thrashed against invisible restraints. 

Death was nothing like what you thought. He was no mere man. 

You hadn’t used your life well. You had done horrible things, things that could be retold in a documentary. Or in some twisted up tv show. 

For that, you thought, this must be punishment. That your death would not be so kind. Your death would be brutal and slow. 

Down the corridor, it seemed never ending. The baby kept crying and you recognised it’s shrieks as your helpless brother, whom you had not even tried to save from the grip of death. 

From a door in the corridor. Slowly it creaked open. Tears were streaming down your face. Your vision was whiting in and out. 

You saw a head, a smile on it’s face. A smile too wide to be human. Reaching from ear to ear. It had no nose, but two eyes too small to be human. It stared at you, you stared at it. Unable to scream and unable to run. 

It’s neck became visible. 

It kept extending, out and out. A tentacle-like limb, it came towards you. Still smiling, still grinning like it enjoyed your thrashing. 

You tried to scream, you tried to scream so much you felt blood running down your throat, yet your mouth remained sealed shut. 

It stopped before you. It asked you, “Why are you here?”

You spoke, but the words were not yours. Like a puppet you were toyed with, like you had toyed with others in your life. Blood dribbled down your chin as you said, “For I am stained with blood that is not mine. For I was a creature unworthy of being called human.”

It’s sharp, bloodstained teeth glimmered in moonlight. Shining bright from the windows of the corridor. 

“Then as you consumed gluttony and hatred. I will consume you.”

It let you scream your pain and suffering as those gnashing teeth descended upon your skin. 

Yes you had seen death, you heard and felt him. 

Now you met him. 

And you truly felt him in every weeping part of your body, as he desecrated you. 

[spicyicymeloncat]

Yknow something that gets me abt certain fanon depictions of kai is that he’s portrayed with no sense of self preservation, as if he’s self sacrificing and burned out, and I think I dislike it bc it feels like the opposite of his character most of the time.

Yeah some of the actions he takes are harmful to himself in some way, but it’s never intended to, they were ways of coping and making himself feel better.

Like the green ninja plot, he is insecure in his place, so he strives for the highest title to make him feel better.

The red shogun isn’t him beating himself up and not caring about his own well being. He was winning fights, fully engaging in the job, taking his frustration out on others and drinking away his issues, and yeah there’s self loathing in that, but there’s also him trying to make himself feel better, to redirect hurt away from himself.

Him prematurely concluding his parents were the bad guys in s7, is (imo) his way of rationalising his mixed feelings, in order to keep himself okay.

He’s not a reckless war machine who throws himself into battle with no hesitation, he tries to keep himself safe.

Kai is self-prioritised and yknow I think people in general really demonise that kinda of trait both in fiction and irl and that’s actually kind of harmful. The self sacrificial trait is so grossly over romanticised and idk it’s a breathe of fresh air when you see a character who doesn’t start out that way or end that way. Like nothing wrong with that trait being written, it’s just like sometimes it feels like people are only allowed to prioritise themselves if they previously have no sense of self care, bc then it’s seen as a healthy improvement. But in any other case, it means you’re selfish and that’s a bad thing apparently.

Like no. Being selfish and loving yourself and thinking you are hot shit and the smartest person alive and prioritising things that make you happy. None of that makes you evil or morally wrong. If in attempts to meet your needs you try to hurt someone else, or end up hurting yourself, then the action you took was bad but the intent isn’t! Fuck the media that finds people loving themselves as immorally wrong! Fuck it! It is not sexy to hate yourself actually.

I want more fanon Kais indulge in activities that make him happy, Kais that make bad decisions in trying to protect himself and Kais that have good coping mechanisms because he’s still trying to protect himself he’s just found better ways of doing it.

Bc it’s canon and it feels like it gets erased a bit because people somehow don’t find self love appealing unless the character was self hating first.

[aerithisms]

i still have so many questions about the ff7 remake story. why did aerith even have knowledge of the future in remake to begin with? from a watsonion perspective, why does she lose that knowledge after the end of remake when sephiroth doesn't? (i'm fully aware the doylist reason is that having a character who knows the future would totally break the plot but i'm still curious if there's more to what they were doing with aerith's remake character or if this is it). what was her motivation to encourage the party to fight the whispers in the original game when she knew the party would defeat sephiroth in the end if events followed fate? was it simply that she wanted the chance to live? because that makes me want to lie down and cry!!!!

[dazzelmethat]

*reaches out my hand and grabs you* I have the power to subject non vocaloid people to pinop..

TW: for flashing lights

Mushroom mother analysis in my tags. ..

[anexistingexistence]

Imagine the protagonist's boyfriend throwing stones at his window and climbing up a tree to get in because the protagonist's mom doesn't want them to be together so they have to meet up in secret.

Now imagine exactly that but with two full-grown men. All of a sudden it's a lot less cute and a lot more "Mc why tf do you care about what your mom wants you're 24 years old damn it."

[museganjin]

look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair (or, i showed this to a guy and its "demonic" energy was so potent that he promptly fell out of the chair desk he was sitting in and toppled it over with a loud noise)

mnm yaoi