#bones and pumpking ask

[bones-n-pumpking-ask]

Bones, what would you do if you ever saw Nova and Spark again?

And if it turns out they like the mitosis song, would you try to stop them from singing it around you by force or diplomacy?

iii uhhh oohh HALF COOKED JUMPSCARE

[bones-n-pumpking-ask]

Before his unescapable torture, Bones had a few seconds to see what he had done. They looked dead, hanging nearby like two lifeless body shells. Has seen it before. The horrible realization, that terrorized Bones before, now hit him even harder, transforming all his thoughts into one horrifying mess. The mess that would scare even the mightiest telepath. This... just can't be happening. This can't happen to them. This... can't... happen to HIM. But his thoughts were unceremoniously interrupted. A sharp pain hit him right in the head, echoing throughout his body. Bones clutched his head, breathing heavily. The terror seized him completely and irrevocably, so hard that he couldn't even scream out loud, tearing his throat, however much he'd want to. All the bones, that were held inside of the spirit's body, bent from the tension, sometimes broking with soft clicks. His eyes turned as black as never before, and Bones, piercing his head with his claws, twisted, trembling violently. Everything around him seemed to explode deafeningly, then plunging into ringing silence.

The black toxic mass flowed down his cheeks, obscuring his eyes even more and burning them painfully. If Bones had been conscious, he would've been ashamed. But now, through all his distress, all the uncontrollable horror of something much bigger, much more powerful and cruel than himself, completely destroyed his mind. Bones was nothing more than a scared-to-death animal thrashing around in a small cage. Such animals don't know what awaits them, suspecting the worst that they can understand and not realizing that everything can be even worse. From the point of view of a hunter, as a human, there are things worse than death. From the point of view of God, there are things so terrible that they could drive anyone crazy.

Electroshock...

One of the cruelest, strongest and most beloved of Their tortures. The electric shock struck Bones, killing him on the spot. Fortunately, nothing lasts forever. The pain slowly subsided, leaving him in total darkness. Weakened, almost mortified, physically and mentally exhausted, in the first minutes he resembled a molten figure of a human who's lying and dying slowly. No thoughts. Nothing. After such a deafening blow, the mind-mess and other ponderings receded into the background, echoing in his head with rare reflections. However, Bones' chest was slowly heaving, imitating human breathing. Or... not exactly imitating?.. Bones finally closed his eyes. It took some time before his body returned to its former, not semi-liquid state. He only needed 10 minutes of rest. Still unable to even get up, the spirit opened his eyes a little and... With a shout, he jumped away from Spark for a considerable distance, almost immediately falling back on his back. Again, it took Bones a few seconds to realize that this was a relatively harmless creature and one more moment to understand the meaning of the words he said. "No... No, NO, NO!!!" He screamed, shaking violently from the force of his own emotional breakdown. "I'M NOT OKAY!!!" Huddling, Bones covered his face with his hands. His cheeks were still burning from crying. Now there will be traces that will disappear only after a while. What a shame. The worst first impression possible and imaginable. Self-criticism is returning, which means that the good old consciousness is also almost there! He just needs to come to his senses completely... and he will be fresh as a daisy.

Meanwhile, pumpking just sat quietly where he could, watching the new world appearing around him. He wasn't scared even a bit, which was kinda surprising even for him. But hmm, where is his little tree-friend? Well... Let's say that it's a SECRET and dance for a little, singing about it! After appearing in this odd new place, which he didn't really want to describe for himself, Pumpking yawned, thinking about a nap, but... the sight of lying nearby kid changed his mind. He crept up and looked into his static eyes. Does it mean that he's dead? The forest king sat near him and poked Nova's head. No, he's alive, that's for sure. It can't be that such a nice character dies first. And he really shouldn't die right now, because people can think that Pumpking himself did it to him! That'd be awkward. " hey are u alive or what? " He whispered, moving his hands away (after the licking incident he wasn't quite sure that he can touch the neo kids himself without rotting alive) " can i take your wallet? just kidding (unless...) "

"So... Do you remember the one who kept you locked up?" He doesn't even look annoyed by these two, which is strange knowing how much he hates the original version of himself. "I am just curious. I think one numskull told me about her... some time ago." {Bones}

As they sometimes do when strangers they don’t know come up to talk to them in the midst of the woods, both the kiddos whirl around to stare at the Bones with bright glowy eyes. The overall effect of this is kinda like a couple of wild stray cats in the dark. Pump is still sort of crouching down in the grass, arms wrapped around himself, recovering from the gunshots…he gives Bones a wary, wide eyed stare, clenching his hands into fists a little. He didn’t usually react like this to new unknown people, it’s just that the unexplainable inner workings of his mind got a sixth sense of Terrible Vibes from this odd lil’ skeleton person. Plus, he was still feeling kinda sick and dizzy. don’t answer that stranger’s question, skid, don’t answer it, don’t don’t don’t, he thought hard into the head of his mentally conjoined brother. So Skid doesn’t answer it. Or more likely, he just didn’t remember the answer to that question in the same way Pump did, and also he was pretty curious about how familiar this stranger looked.Skid sort of skitters up to Bones and, moving in in a series of jarringly fast, small halting squirrel-like motions, looks at him from every angle. “HEY,” He said after a few moments, “wwhhhwho are YOU? ARE YOU A WOODS CRYPTID?” That was really weird. The sound and volume of his voice seemed to suddenly switch in the middle of his sentence, and then suddenly switch back.@bones-n-pumpking-ask

[ask-corr-pump-and-skid]

ooc: happy birthday to mee!! today, April 18th, im year older! now im very very resBonsible n cool, i mean, i have two blogs already!!! that says something!! anyway, thank u for stayn here in these crazyweird dreams with me!! i berrry much appreciate it n love you all, even tho its been only a few months!!! when i finish with my exams, i will try to be more active here too, i promise!!! reverse!spookeez blog: @bones-n-pumpking-ask

[forbidden-mom-friend]

Hey lila-b, there's a new couple of skids and pumps in town! They go by the name of Bones and Pumpking, have you seen them? And if so, what do you think of them?

“Oh, there it is. Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time until someone asked me right-out about them, hm? SiiiiIIigh. Well, here’s the tea.” She just sort of dramatically spoke out the drawn-out word of sigh instead of actually performing the action. “.....” “Of course I’ve seen them. Their very existences contradict both themselves and each other. While most other sorts of Skids and Pumps (and these two hardly share the definition, really!) I have seen are at the very beginning or midst of their stories with their whole intriguingly different lives ahead of them, these two are both wandering around aimlessly at the end of their ropes, and their respective bitter journeys through life. Not very admirable tales to tell at that, either...though I suppose I’m one to talk, in a way...” “To summarize in plain English, (since goodness, I’ve been rambling quite a lot of silly existential jargon, haven’t I--)” She counts off on her clawed fingers. “Rude. Unpleasant. Half senseless. Directionless. Hypocritical...Ah, and they even sometimes make attempts at a similar brand of trade to my own, which I can’t help but resent a little.” She turns away, examining the nails on a clawed hand. “In short, utterly uninteresting. But at least one half of them has good taste in complete nonsense, to even the odds.” “Oh, and a small fun fact, just as a light little footnote...” She flicks her wrist and with a tiny lil Mona Lisa smile, brings up a small specific snippet of dialogue in a wide oblong eye shaped viewport.

“"No immortal being is without weakness. Many a person in our world, all of whom don’t particularly have a date of death unless someone or something kills them outright, tend to believe themselves incapable of being killed until the very moment they are made dead, caught by complete surprise. So, to think that your immortality grants you invincibility as well...now, that right there is an especially foolish pride and prejudgement.”

[theresonlyonekingwhichisme]

"Why do you even want to be a "King"? How do you imagine that?.." Half-skeleton creature raised an eyebrow. "What is it for you and why do you think you can fulfill this wish." { @bones-n-pumpking-ask }

Why? Are you seriously asking that question?

POWER!!!

You get to be on the top of the world. No one can tell you now. EVERYTHING bends at your will.

You can have it ALL.

[abovethesmokestacks]

A Home For the Heart

Title: A Home For the Heart

Pairing: Hal Carter x reader

Rating: General audiences

For @the-ss-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabbles picture prompt special. My image prompt (seen here below) was sent in by @marvelgirl7, and it... got away from me. I still hope you like it!

He almost scares the living daylights out of her. The small train station is all but empty, and she’s pacing the platform, rubbing her arms to stave of the chill drawing in. September slowly bled away until suddenly she seemed to wake up in October. Leaves have already started falling from the trees and it will get colder. There was a plan, she was going to go places, there was going to be an adventure. Now she’s here, halfway to the middle of nowhere, no money for train fare, and yet she can’t make herself move away from the platform. 

A cargo train pulls in, the brakes jarring and making her cringe. Maybe that’d be something. Train hopping like a drifter, going from place to place. Living the great American roadtrip on the rails, experience the world as she never would have before. 

She’s lost in some romanticized dream of what it might be like when a gentle hand shakes her shoulder. The squeak she lets out might possibly be described as more of a shriek, but she claps a hand over her mouth, the dream lost in favour of a worst case scenario where she won’t ever leave town, let alone this platform.

“Sorry if I scared ya, miss.”

There is a man standing next to her, rugged and a little travel worn, with bright blue eyes regarding her under a long fringe that is just shy of being able to be swept behind his ears. There’s a rip in his shirt, a duffel slung over his shoulder that looks like it’s staying together by hope alone, scuffed boots on his feet. 

“I tried calling out for ya, you look a little lost,” he offers, removing his hand and taking a step back. “I’m Hal Carter, miss.”

“I’m...” She fumbles for words. Does she offer her name? “I’m... lost.”

Hal smiles, shoves his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans, “Well, I know this place pretty well, so if you need directions, I can probably help.”

It prompts a story. Because directions, yes, she could use them, but they would all lead to places with things she can’t afford because her last bit of cash was stolen, and food and shelter generally require funds. Hal nods, and though her cheeks heat with the shame of having to admit she has no money, no plan, no idea what to do, he doesn’t berate her, doesn’t dismiss her.

“C’mon,” he says, motioning with his hand for her to follow.

He is a stranger. He could be dangerous. But there is an ease to his expression, a flash of something like kinship in his eyes. She can at least walk a bit with him. Walking will keep her warm. She’ll need it.

“It’s tough being out on the road alone,” he tells her as they leave the station behind. “Been doing it myself most of the past season. Hopped on a train, rode until I got somewhere, worked for anyone who needed a hand, moved on when I wanted. Frightens me every damn time to get off that train.”

They exchange stories. A carnival down in New Orleans. Farms dotted all over the Midwest. The forests of the Olympic Peninsula. Trains and car rides and travels that have neither a beginning nor an ending. She doesn’t even notice they’ve strayed from the road leading into town, instead walking along a smaller dirt road. She’s about to ask where they’re headed, fear simmering in the pit of her stomach when she looks ahead where the road bends into a gentle downhill curve. It opens up to a landscape she could only have dreamt about. A worn wooden rail lines the road with string lights wrapped around them, pumpkins and lit lanterns dotting the way down to a red farmhouse nestled in a little clearing before a sprawling forest that burns with red and yellows and browns.

“W-Who lives here? Is it another job for you?” she asks, mouth agape as she takes in the sight, the warmth radiating from the picturesque setting.

Hal only smiles, keeps trudging down the road. She can do nothing but follow, looking up only when she hears a door open and spots a woman stepping out onto the porch, arms crossed over her chest.

“And what time do you call this?” the woman calls out to Hal, mirth and playful irritation mixing in the lilt of her accent.

“What can I say, trains don’t always run on time. Told you I’d be home on the 11th, though, didn’t I?” Hal replies, hurrying up to the woman and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

With a “hmph”, the woman turns her gaze from Hal. “And who do we have here?”

She wants to shrink away from the attention, but Hal come back down to join her, wraps an arm around her, “Ma, this is our guest. She’ll be staying for a bit til she can get back on her feet.”

Ma? She tries hard not to let her eyes bulge. Ma doesn’t seem to even bat an eyelash, only tells them both to get on inside and out of the cold. It’s a bit of a blur from there on out; she’s shown to a room, offered some warmer clothes and a chance to wash off the dirt of the road, and when Hal knocks on her door to suggest something warm to drink, she already feels like she’s been here for weeks.

“You live here?” she asks later. They’re back on the porch, each wrapped in a blanket with a mug of hot apple cider cupped between their hands. “She’s your... She’s-”

“Oh, no, she’s not my ma. Not my real one. I’ve known her since I was a kid, my own mother wasn’t- I just kept calling her Ma so often that it stuck,” Hal explains, looking down at his mug. “She takes care of the place while I’m away.��‘S been hard keeping this place going, but I couldn’t bear getting rid of it. So for the summers, I roam around. I see the country, work like a dog, while Ma takes care of the place. Sharp as a tack that one. She keeps hoping one day I’ll stop. Says it’s no good for the soul to be as uprooted as mine. Keep telling her I gotta find something to make me stay first.”

She looks around, from the illuminated path to the barns and golden fields that lie like muted gold in the fading light. “I don’t think I could ever leave,” she confesses, taking another sip of the cider, eyes fluttering close at combination of rich spices and tangy apples.

“You’re free to stay as long as you’d like, ‘s long as you don’t mind lending a hand.”

“Of course.”

She thinks maybe it’ll be a few days. A few weeks. Maybe a month or two, tops. But like September vanished seemingly unnoticed, so does time. She helps out during the days, sometimes with Ma, sometimes with Hal. Some days, she wanders around, goes into town, but never once does she feel the call of the trains passing through. There are dinners and lunches and stolen glances and lingering touches. There are pumpking pies and first snow and a warm hand in hers around a table laden with food. There’s Hal and talks on the porch and snowball fights that end in both of them soaked to the bone and Ma shaking her head like they’re teenagers and whispering things to him that make him blush. There’s a new year, coldsnaps and a sprained ankle, and one February night there is a kiss so brief that if it weren’t for her tingling lips, she thinks she might have dreamt it.

Everything melts. The snow. Her heart. The seasons are turning, and she wakes one night feeling like the last flash of winter is holding her heart in an icy grip, filling it with a dread that has her knocking on Hal’s bedroom door in the middle of the night. When he opens, he barely gets a word out before her arms are slung around his neck, face pressing against the warmth of his chest.

“What’s the matter?”

I gotta find something to make me stay first.

“Please, stay. I don’t want to leave, I don’t want you to leave. Please, I can’t, I don’t want to go back.”

“Sweetheart...”

“Hell, I don’t have anything to go back to at this point, I don’t know what to do,” she rambles on, clinging to him as if he might at any moment dismiss her and push her away.

Her heart nearly breaks when he steps away from her, holds her steady so he can look at her. It’s going to happen. No more days working. No more dinners. No more nagging him with Ma. No more talks on the porch. No more kisses.

“Sweetheart, look at me... It’s okay, you’re okay, please, lemme look at you.” Even in the dark, she can tell the exact shade of blue in his eyes. “I’m gonna be honest with you, okay? I had almost forgot that I usually leave in the next two months. In... God, in four months, I haven’t thought about it once. You know what I have thought about? You. You and how I want to show you everything. I barely even know how this place works in the summer months, and Ma will chew me out for every bit I don’t know, but god, I want to be here with you. I want us to be here.”

“You said you always left,” she says, voice small and nearly muffled against his skin.

“Because this never felt like a proper home. Ma’s here, and I love her, but there’s... a lot of memories attached to this place. And sooner or later they begin to eat at me. So I leave. I leave so I can come back and live in this house without a shadow constantly weighing on me. But darling, you’ve... I don’t remember this house ever being this happy. From the day you came home with me from the train station, you made me feel at home. And I was fearful you’d leave eventually. ‘S not a glamorous life after all, and I’d’ve understood if it wasn’t for you. I still do. But as long as you want to stay, I’ll stay with you. And if ever you want to leave, I want you to know, I ain’t gonna keep you from the road. But this house...” He cups your face, smiling like he’s about to fall to pieces before you. “This house is a home because of you.”

“You... won’t leave?” It’s the only thing she can think of, the only thing she can focus on, hope bubbling like sparkling wine inside her.

Hal smiles, closes the distance to kiss her soft and sweet, lifting her up and swaying them around. “How could I leave when there’s a home for my heart now?”

[deansdirtylittlesecretsblog]

Pumpkin Pie and Thanksgiving

Title:  Pumpkin Pie and Thanksgiving

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Summary: The Winchester boys spend Thanksgiving with Sheriff Donna.

Characters:  Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum, Sam Winchester

Word Count:  731

Warnings:  Absolutely none!

Author’s Notes: This was written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Seasons of Love Challenge - Colors of Fall. My song prompt was Luke Bryan’s Harvest Time (x). I am using this short drabble to set up my sequel to the 12 Days of Dean and Donna: A Christmas Story, tentatively titled Another 12 Days of Dean and Donna, Christmas at the Bunker.

***My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

“Can’t you just buy the canned stuff?” Dean mumbled as he pressed the gas pedal and crept forward several feet.

“No,” Donna shook her head, her blonde hair flying around her head. “I want a pumpkin from a pumpkin patch. It’s authentic. Only thing better would be if I grew it myself.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, easing the car forward a little bit more. Donna could tell he was getting irritated, so she slid across the seat to sit beside him, her hand on his thigh. He turned to look at her, so she took advantage of the moment, pressing a kiss to his lips. He shook his head again, but he was smiling.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“I’d only sit in traffic like this for you,” he chuckled. “You owe me.”

“Mmm,” Donna hummed. “I wonder how on earth I can repay you.” She giggled, her cheeks hot, and rested her forehead on Dean’s shoulder.

He slipped his arm around her, tugged her closer, and kissed her temple. They pulled into a parking space just a few minutes later and five minutes after that, they were strolling through the pumpkin patch, Donna stopping every now and then to examine a pumpking before moving on. Once she found the one she wanted, a huge one, she picked it up and dropped it in Dean’s arms, ignoring the ‘oof’ he jokingly let out. He followed her to a small table, where he paid for her pumpkin, then he loaded it in the backseat of the car.

“So, we just sat in line for almost an hour to get a parking spot so you could spend five minutes picking out a pumpkin?” he grumbled as he climbed back in the car.

“Yep,” Donna giggled. She reached over and snapped on the radio, fiddling with the stations. He made a face when she stopped on the local country station, but he couldn’t help smiling when she started singing along with some song on the radio.

It's harvest time in this little town Time to bring it on in Pay the loans down Fill our diesel tank up And make another round There's a big red moon coming up in the sky Combine's cutting in a staggered line The only time of year We missed the church bell's chime It's harvest time

“I hate country music,” Dean mumbled.

“Yeah, but you love me,” she grinned.

“You ain’t lyin,” he smirked.

Dean reached across the table and grabbed another piece of pie, then he smothered it in whipped cream.

“Donna, baby,” he mumbled, “This pie is freakin’ amazing.”

“Thank you,” she blushed, planting a kiss on the top of his head. “I told you fresh pumpkin would be best.”

“That was the best Thanksgiving meal we’ve had in, well, ever,” Sam said, sitting back and resting both hands on his stomach. “Thank you.” He yawned, eyes half closed. “I think I need a nap.”

“Not quite yet,” Donna smiled, dropping into the chair beside Dean. “I thought we should talk about Christmas.” She fiddled with the edge of the lace tablecloth covering her dining room table. “Last year, you guys were here -”

“I think you should come to the bunker,” Dean interjected.

Both Sam and Donna turned to look at him, their confused “what?” coming out in unison.

“I want you to come spend Christmas at the bunker,” Dean repeated. He put a hand in the middle of Donna’s back, rubbing it gently.

“Really?” she murmured.

“Of course, really,” he shrugged.

“Can I bring Christmas decorations?” she asked. “You know I like to decorate.”

Dean laughed, his head thrown back, his whole body shaking. “You love to decorate. And yes, bring whatever you want.” He tilted his head to one side as if considering what he’d just said. “Within reason.”

“Okay, I’m going to the bunker for Christmas,” she laughed. “Oh, you know what? I forgot the coffee.” She pushed herself away from the table and hurried to the kitchen.

Once the door swung closed behind her, Donna leaned against the counter and took a deep breath. Her head was spinning and she felt tears at the corner of her eyes. Last Christmas had been one of the best of her life, she couldn’t imagine what this year might be like.

“Christmas at the bunker,” she murmured. “This is gonna be fun.”

Dean and Donna Tags:  @atc74 @bringmesomepie56 @captainemwinchester @climbthatmooselikeatree @deandoesthingstome @deathswaywardson @donnaintx @dv8n666ways @erin654 @feelmyroarrrr @frankiea1998 @gallxntdean @goldenolaf25 @goofynerd-67babylove @growningupgeek @hidingfrommychildren @iwriteshortstuff @jayankles @jennandthecats @jessica-bones-winchester @katnharper @ksgeekgirl @mamapeterson @meeshw777 @milkymilky-cocopuff @mischief-maker1 @misswhizzy @mrsjohnsmith @mrswhozeewhatsis @purgatoan @rattyretro-blog-blog @rizlow1 @roxyspearing @sis-tafics @smoothdogsgirl @starswirlblitz @sweetmisseddreams2002 @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @tas898 @that1seniorchick @thebabeontheback @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tia58 @torn-and-frayed @ultimatecin73 @velcr0kitty @waywardjoy @winchesterprincessbride @wonderless-screwup

[bones-n-pumpking-ask]

(OLD)DOODLE DUMP

since i am not drawing that much yet (another hiatus yayy) i thought i can as well publish some old art of mine that is lore/blog related! xDD even if some things may take time to explain, HAHA-

that's bones when he was just born! say hi, bones! :D as you can see he wasn't quite as. humanoid as today... there're reasons why he looks differently right now, simple reasons but sure not pretty! ^^

pumpking angst! sometimes he can get a bit angsty too, during the worst times, OOPS

PEACHY PILLL!!!!! I LoooVVEE HIM. too bad this blog didn't see too much of his horrible presence! XDD maybe sometime....

peachy again, being a MESS. hiding behind a random tray out of context! maybe you'll never know WHY :DD

that's it for now but i still have a plenty! see yaaa soon, hopefully soon!

[xenegrade-chronicles]

"So... Do you remember the one who kept you locked up?" He doesn't even look annoyed by these two, which is strange knowing how much he hates the original version of himself. "I am just curious. I think one numskull told me about her... some time ago." {Bones}

As they sometimes do when strangers they don’t know come up to talk to them in the midst of the woods, both the kiddos whirl around to stare at the Bones with bright glowy eyes. The overall effect of this is kinda like a couple of wild stray cats in the dark.  Pump is still sort of crouching down in the grass, arms wrapped around himself, recovering from the gunshots...he gives Bones a wary, wide eyed stare, clenching his hands into fists a little. He didn't usually react like this to new unknown people, it's just that the unexplainable inner workings of his mind got a sixth sense of Terrible Vibes from this odd lil' skeleton person. Plus, he was still feeling kinda sick and dizzy. don’t answer that stranger’s question, skid, don’t answer it, don’t don’t don’t, he thought hard into the head of his mentally conjoined brother. So Skid doesn’t answer it. Or more likely, he just didn’t remember the answer to that question in the same way Pump did, and also he was pretty curious about how familiar this stranger looked. Skid sort of skitters up to Bones and, moving in in a series of jarringly fast, small halting squirrel-like motions, looks at him from every angle. “HEY,” He said after a few moments, “wwhhhwho are YOU? ARE YOU A WOODS CRYPTID?” That was really weird. The sound and volume of his voice seemed to suddenly switch in the middle of his sentence, and then suddenly switch back. @bones-n-pumpking-ask

[nightmarebeforewyatt-archiv-blog]

love in a mist. peony. peruvian lily. foxglove. evening primrose.

love in a mist - what is the latest dream you remember?

Wyatt thought long and hard about what was his latest dream. “Well…” It took him a minute, but it finally came to him. “Two n-nights ago, it was y-y-you, me, and Bo-ones. We were on a p-picnic, a-a-almost identical to the one I-i p-planned for your promposal.” Wyatt explained. “You were t-t-telling me how m-much-” How much you loved me, Wyatt thought to himself. “Um…h-how much y-y-you loved Bones.” Wyatt lied a little unconvincingly. Little did he know, Sasha actually said these words, while he in his coma. 

peony - what is something that you wish your parents could’ve told you?

“C-come on, Sash. Y-you already kn-know the answer t-t-to that one.” Wyatt thought back to that night he opened up about his parents. He remembers telling Sasha that things might have been different if his parents had ever told him they loved him. 

peruvian lily - what are the names of your pets? 

W-why are y-y-you asking all these q-questions? Ones y-you a-a-already know the a-answer too? Did the d-doctors, put you u-up to it? I t-told them I d-d-don’t h-have amnes-sia.

foxglove - what is your favorite color and in what shade?

“Okay, I k-know I’ve t-t-told you this before.” Wyatt laughed lightly. “It’s orange, b-but not like pumpk-kin orange, m-m-more like d-deep sunset-t orange.” 

evening primrose - what’s your sleeping playlist? (give me 5 songs) 

Tired of all the talking and listening to himself stutter, Wyatt grabbed his answer and scrolled through his playlists until he found the one he was looking for. Turning the screen towards Sasha, Wyatt’s hand was shaking terribly, but she was able to read the top five songs in his Insomnia playlist: 

Cancer - My Chemical Romance

Don’t Go - Bring Me the Horizon

Can’t Help Falling in Love with You - Elvis Presley

Let It Be - The Beatles

Perfect - Simple Plan 

[forbidden-mom-friend]

{💔 n some 💚 for the bone boy,} [💙💘 for fuccin bumpkin!] ((bones-n-pumpking-ask))

Lila-B opts to pretend to ignore this entirely, as nothing shown within it surprises her very much in the slightest bit...but she does find herself wondering where the jealousy comes in with the one-whose-name-she-wouldn’t-bother-to-recall-because-she-had-decided-she-didn’t-particularly-care. Ah, probably from some mangled form of misconception of her based on what little he’d heard of her life, most likely. Indeed, she’d like to see him deal with being suddenly thrust into the various positions and trials and tribulations that her universe had given her and others throughout its course and see if he could handle it without flying into some kind of infantile rage or frustration and winding up in a very similar position to how he’d seemed to in his own past. Or, wait a second, no. She wouldn’t like to see that. Not at all. She wasn’t curious about anything to do with either of them in the slightest bit. Because she wasn’t going to waste any more effort in thinking about them than she already had. It was hardly worth the time.  Thus were the words she vehemently kept telling herself. 

[bones-n-pumpking-ask]

Bones? Why don't you have a nose?

What did he mean by that

i bet he WILL elaborate..... eventually...

[bones-n-pumpking-ask]

i am TOTALLY NORMAL about my characters FOR SURE

original picture (by b0nkcreat on tumblr):

[bones-n-pumpking-ask]

yeahhhh I really don't know how to start this sorry, I hope it's okay, this is my first time sharing art with anyone 8)))

I think I'll talk about them once my heartbeat stops ringing in my ears-

WHAT. WHAT???? THIS IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING???? WHAT??? you won't believe how THRILLED I WAS WHEN I OPENED MY ASKBOX THAT DAY

THANK YOU FOR SHARING OH MY GOD???? I LOVE IT VERY MUCH. i REALLY enjoy the designs and creativity within the drawings, your art is GREAT! ^^ if you ever want to share more info i'd be happy!!

i reeally wanted to doodle them right after i saw this, as well as some funny interactions that were on my mind, HOHO, hope that's okay with you! ^^ and let me know if it's not!! herrrre it GOES....

[bones-n-pumpking-ask]

wooooo check out the new picture for the updated intro post! B) REEAAALLY GLAD I AM FINALLY ABLE TO REPLACE THE OLD ONE, SHEeSH.... it's the new era again, if i can say so myself! <:)

[bones-n-pumpking-ask]

Hi Bones. So, uh, what would you like that would make you not wanna kill someone for 5 minutes? :]

"Where... did you take THAT from?.."

" Dead Sign store :] duhh "