pumpk1n-writes

[pumpk1n-writes]

Where did you go💔I miss your writing 💔.

Awwww thank you!!!! I moved over to a new account due to the death of my scream hyperfixation (for now)

[pumpk1n-writes]

Are u Still Alive😕? Where did you go

I’m still alive dw!!! I moved over to a different account mostly ghost-band-centric because the scream hyperfixation died out

If you want the new account I tagged it in the post before this one

[pumpk1n-writes]

hey are you alr? Haven't heard from you in a while, is it all okay?

I’m all good dw!! I moved to a different account so that’s why I haven’t been posting - the scream hyperfixation died out and the ghost one took over

Side note, if you want some ghost band stuff, head over to @the-scars-inside-you

[pumpk1n-writes]

Hmmmmm I sense a pattern

BATTLE OF THE LARYNX ~ 🎤

i got a lil idea, compare your first fictional crush vs latest fictional crush

I'll start:

I just realized a pattern here 💀

AHHH NO CUZ ELSAS SO FINE

Ngl they’re actually pretty similar 😭🫣

(I don’t take it back either Rosetta’s fine asf and a bad bitch)

[pumpk1n-writes]

Patrick Wilson

Underoath

Mother Mother

Poor Man’s Poison

Korn

I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Nirvana

Witchz

Rory Webley

Invadable Harmony

Taylor Swift

Eurythmics

Sub Urban

let’s start a ✨chain✨

very similar to the one where you spell out your name/url in songs but instead you spell it with ✨song artists✨ (bands, singers, etc)

ILL START (obvs)

P - Panic! At The Disco

A - Adele

T - The Weeknd

H - Halsey

E - Evanescence

T - TWICE

I - Imagine Dragons

C - Calpurnia

A - Amy Winehouse

T - Taylor Swift

T - The Band Perry

H - Harry Styles

E - Ed Sheeran

D - Dua Lipa

I - Ice Cube

S - Shawn Mendes

C - Coldplay

O - Olivia Rodrigo

@waitingforthesunrise @malteevars-kee-devi @pheonix-thefirebird @dream-of-potter @sleep-can-wait @a-portal-to-nowhere @myeyesandheartadjust @lalallorona and anyone else who wants to join in :)

[pumpk1n-writes]

Do you write for kirby reed?

Yeah, but I don’t really know her character that well so I’ll do my best!

#pumpkin has answered

[pumpk1n-writes]

💌 Send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome. 💌 🥰

Teehee

#pumpkin has answered #lilac <3 🪷

[pumpk1n-writes]

Have you watched scream 4?

Yep

#pumpkin has answered

[pumpk1n-writes]

Hi, can you please do part 2 of 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 like where the baby is born?

Thanks

Don’t Make Me Leave ~ Part Two

➥ in which Billy and the fem!reader are best friends and he accidentally gets her pregnant. {ft. pregnancy, fluff, mentions of sex, your author knowing nothing about childbirth other than what they watched on Gilmore Girls, like… childbirth. If you’re squeamish I suggest not reading this because there’s birth. Of a child. I mean maybe it’s a child. Idk. Extremely ooc for like, all of them}

A/N: I realized through writing/brief research of this that I’m never going to have kids. Like ever. I’ll have cats. Also this is literally so bad because I have no idea how to go about this, but enjoy I guess.

Part One || Word Count ~ 773 words

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid @billysbae

It was the middle of the night. Sidney and Stu had basically moved in to your house in preparation for the baby. Billy and Sid moved cautiously around each other, a dangerous dance, but they’d managed to put aside their differences and tentatively live together. For now.

The clock read 12:47 when you left your bed, the decision to get something to eat fresh in your head. You’d made it down the stairs when you felt a something unlike anything you’d felt before. Sharp pain shot up your abdomen and into your stomach, and you clutched the counter.

“Billy!” You called upstairs, hoping he was awake, or at least sleeping lightly. “Billy, get your ass down here!”

Billy didn’t come, but Stu did. He took one look at your pale face and bolted back upstairs. You could hear a commotion, like he’d thrown something at your boyfriend. A few moments later both boys were racing down to you.

“Get,” you took a deep breath through the contractions. “Go get Sid.”

Stu nodded and ran back upstairs, and Billy grabbed your hand. “Is it time?”

“I think so, these are the contractions I think.”

A drop of sweat trickled down your neck, followed by another, then another.

“Wait for Stu to help you get in the car, I’ll call the hospital and get the bag.”

You frowned at him, “I can get in the car by myself, Loomis.” You took one pained step, then nearly doubled over. “Never mind.”

Your dad rushed out of his room, looking furious that he hadn’t been told yet. “I’m taking you to the hospital, Stu can drive Billy separately.”

“Sir—”

“She’s my daughter. I’m taking her to the hospital.”

“And it’s my baby!”

“Fine then, get in the car, but hurry your ass up, young man.”

Your dad, being a cop, flipped his lights on and drove as quickly as he dared in the dark and rain to the hospital. Luckily for you, Woodsboro was small enough that it didn’t take long. Long enough that you were nearly screaming in pain before your water broke, but not as long as it would have been in a bigger city.

Your dad ran into the hospital to secure a room and Billy helped you limp through the doors. They already had a gurney and a room ready, and the nurse walked beside you, holding your hand and instructing you to breath.

You made it into the room without much incident (other than agony and pain and more agony) and the doctors situated you on the bed.

“It’s too late for any pain meds, is that okay?”

You nodded, sweat sheening your face and neck. “Just get this thing out of me,” you gasped. Billy looked at you apologetically, and you glared at him.

“As soon as this demon is out of me I’m slapping you. Hard.”

“Okay,” the doctor patted your ankle in what you suppose was supposed to be reassuring. “It’s time to start pushing, you ready?”

“Oh my god,” you were mad at the doctor, mad at Billy, mad at this terrible demon child. “I’m never doing this again.”

You screamed, pushing with all of your might, fairly certain that your heart was going to explode. And maybe everything else would.

They said that you wouldn’t remember the pain of childbirth. Fucking liars.

“Billy, if you want another kid I’ll get you pregnant, how does that sound.”

Billy only laughed, but he was looking a little green. Pussy.

The nurse pulled Billy and your father aside, trying to talk to them privately, but it was a small room and you could hear everything.

“Sir, some complications arose.”

“What kind of complications?” Billy said, green giving way to pale.

“Well, there’s only a fifty/fifty percent chance that the baby and mother both make it. You might have to choose between them if it gets worse.”

“What?” Billy had to sit down, and he put his head in his hands. “I choose her. I always choose her.”

Come on, baby, I didn’t carry you for nine months for you give up on me now. If you don’t come on out right now you’re grounded.

Defying all expectations, you pushed with one final scream and the nurse was able to grab the baby’s head and shoulders and pull him the rest of the way out.

You collapsed onto the pillows in exhaustion, holding your baby close and kissing him all over his beautiful face. He had Billy’s nose, but your eyes.

“Ethan,” you spoke into his forehead, the name you and Billy had decided on. “Welcome to the world.”

#scream #scream 1996 #billy loomis scream #billy loomis #fluff

[pumpk1n-writes]

I’m currently writing the part two to this that was requested a WHILE ago (sorry 😬) so if you wanna read it here’s this

Don’t Make Me Leave

➥ in which Billy and the fem!reader are best friends and he accidentally gets her pregnant. {ft. pregnancy, fluff, mentions of sex}

Requested ~ yes / no [prompt: I just thought it would be cool to base a story with billy loomis could you do where the reader and billy were best friends who are in love with eachother and you all did stuff and the reader gets pregnant idk if this makes but I liked your work and wanted to see what you could do with it || Word Count ~ 520 words

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid @itzlovelyautumn

For the first time in a long time, Billy climbed through your window. You’d been doing homework at your desk for three hours when you heard your window opening.

“Well, hello there, beautiful,” you jumped at the sound of your best friend’s voice, spinning around erratically in your chair.

“What are you doing here?” You meant it as an innocent question, but your tone came off sour. You regretted immediately.

Billy plopped himself down on your bed, wrinkling the previously perfectly made comforter. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. He left no room for you to fill with all the excuses running through your mind. But that wasn’t going to stop you — in fact, it just made you want to fill it even more. “I’ve been really busy, Billy.”

“Bullshit,” Billy smiled at you, but it was a smile devoid of any emotion or mirth. “You’ve been hanging out with Stu and Sidney. I’ve seen you at the mall.”

“What do you want me to say? That ever since you bent me over my desk I haven’t been able to look at you like just my best friend anymore? That I’m not sure we can just ‘stay friends’ after that? Goddamn it, Billy!”

“Maybe I don’t want to ‘just stay friends’ either,” his voice was quiet now, a stark contrast to the venom you’d thrown into your own words.

“Billy, if you only want me for the sex, you’re gonna have to find someone else. I’m not doing that anymore.”

He looked pained. “Why would you think I only wanted you for the sex? I fucking love you and I only hope you feel the same way. Even if I have to wait a million years, I’ll still be running after you. You can’t make me leave. I won’t leave you to deal with the darkness of this world alone.”

“No, Billy,” if you didn’t love him back before that, you sure did now. “Billy, I love you too.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I’m pregnant.”

In the silence that followed, you could hear a pin drop. The sound of the TV echoed up faintly from where your father was watching it downstairs. You could hear rain in the distance.

“What?” After the nearly unbearable quiet, the whispered question seemed impossibly loud. “When did you find out?”

“I don’t know, a couple days ago.”

You were fully expecting Billy to turn right around and leap out of the window, leaving you alone with his child, but instead he drew you close to his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“You can never make me leave, and I’ll stay right by your side through this whole thing.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he held you at arms length and gently wiped the tears away, kissing you with even more kindness and softness then was present in his touch. You stepped forward back into his chest and silently sobbed more out of relief than any other emotion.

“Thank you.”

[pumpk1n-writes]

Going on a six hour drive, send requests and stuff and I’ll get to the ones I have rn

#not a fic

[pumpk1n-writes]

[pumpk1n-writes]

Cas: i love you 🥺

Dean for the past few days on tumblr dot com:

[pumpk1n-writes]

Little excerpt from the book I’m writing

“We won’t forget each other, right?” Shining eyes creased with worry, sitting in an empty playground. The boy across from me grinned, his teeth a stark contrast to the darkness outside. He held out his pinkie finger, moving closer.

“Pinkie promise,” he swore. We entwined fingers. It was magical, almost, surrounded by darkness, sitting in our own little bubble of moonlight. A car drove by. A nightbird called for it’s mate. A door opened. We fell asleep together, two bright-eyed children, hope for the world not yet lost, our world the play structure and our homes. The sun rose, orange and warm. We ran, shrieking, back to our houses, promising to see each other that afternoon.

“Pinkie promise,” I scoffed, downing another shot of tequila. Who would have known that that circle of moonlight was magical, that that “pinkie promise” would curse me to a life of remembrance. A life of pain for what I had lost. I grew up a naive child, curious and in awe of everything around me. He grew up too, but he grew up like one of the twisted and gnarled trees surrounding that playground behind our houses. He lost hope for himself, drowning in memories of pain. He lost hope for the world, lost hope that anything would get better. And I was unable to do anything about it. I tried encouraging him to get help, but he would throw on a smile like it was his jacket and pretend everything was fine for a week.

We would fight, not just with words, but with our fists and our feet. I would try to leave him, but he would drag me back under, hold me close, whisper that he would never hurt me again. I tried to scream for help, but he would cover my mouth with his hand, hold my hair, murmur promises against my skin. We grew up, and he moved. I would never see him again, except in my nightmares, in my memories.

His plastic promises carved into my skin, thin lines of “I love you. I’ll never hurt you. See? Look what you’ve done to me.” My own blood was the only thing that satisfied these memories, the only thing that would make the nightmares go away.

Even with the alcohol and the drugs, he would never go away. I was damned to remember, cursed to relive those terror-stricken nights spent under that playground. My eyes, once so full of childlike curiosity, were now dark and tired. I had been punished for what he did to me, kicked out of my home when they saw the scars, claiming “he would never do such a thing”. I had been followed by his terrible hand, the fear of him finding me looming over my head. I’d stumbled into bars, trying to forget.

Please, let me forget.

Please, I need to forget.

Please.

[pumpk1n-writes]

Watching the difference between the Twitter migration mentality vs. the Reddit migration mentality is fucking hilarious.

Like, when Twitter users started moving over here everyone was pulling out all the stops and bringing back old fandoms that they were into and basically firing rent lowering shots by being super cringey.

And then all of the sudden when the Reddit refugees start showing up we're like, "ah yes, pull up a log and gather around the dumpster fire. We'll teach you how to not get killed by people hunting down bots and carve out a little area for you guys to relax and get used to the site before we throw you into the deep end of this hellsite that we call home. Tomorrow is Let Papyrus say Fuck day so you can prepare for that if you want. You want some hot coco and a blanket?"

[pumpk1n-writes]

They are studying us in petri dishes

[pumpk1n-writes]

wylan is the definition of the duality of man. he is adorable and cute and seemingly so innocent with his curls and his big eyes and his flute and everything, but he’s actually this badass motherfucker who makes bombs and threatens to push people in canals and im not surprised jesper is head over heels for him bc i would be too.

we stan wylan van eck in this household. reblog if you also stan our king our savior our musical madman wylan van fucking eck