sparklyskeletonsworld

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

In sc with and 18 with no car cause wtf

anyone in sc and under 25 with car insurance cause wtf

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

the cat's out of the bag 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: teeth rotting fluff

summary: during a storm, you rescue a stray kitten and spend the next week trying to keep her hidden from your boyfriend.

word count: 2k

author's note: i love cats and dogs, genuinely would run a little zoo of my own if i could. enjoy my loves and stay safe out there! please drop a like or a reblog if you enjoyed! <3333 based on this request

i love soft!bucky with my whole heart

It started with a storm and a pair of very, very round blue eyes.

You hadn’t meant to adopt a cat.

The plan was simple. Boring, even.

Drop off your mission report to Val, grab a too-sweet latte with Yelena while listening to her complain about Walker’s latest disaster, and then spend the evening wrapped in your favourite blanket, bingeing your comfort show for the fifth, okay, seventh time.

That was it. No drama. No interruptions. Definitely no unexpected pets.

But fate, and a suspiciously open cardboard box near the alley dumpsters behind your usual deli—had other plans.

That’s where you found her.

Or rather, that’s where she found you.

You hadn’t even noticed the box at first. You were halfway through texting Yelena about her ridiculous idea for matching leather jackets when a faint sound stopped you cold.

A mewl, soft, reedy, desperate. You turned, heart already twisting, and there she was.

Soaked. Shivering. All fluff and no fight.

Her white fur was a grimy, matted mess, stained gray from the rain and dirt. She couldn’t have been more than a few months old—tiny and fragile, huddled against the crumpled side of the box like it might still protect her.

When your shadow fell over her, she didn’t flinch. She just blinked up at you with those huge, too-wise eyes, let out one pitiful little cry, and tucked her nose into her paw like she was already giving up.

And that was it. You were done for.

You crouched without thinking, hands already moving before logic caught up. She was cold, so cold you swore you could feel it through your fingertips when you scooped her up and tucked her against your chest.

Your jacket came off next, hastily unzipped and wrapped around her as you stood, shielding her from the steady drizzle like instinct had overridden every ounce of your common sense.

She didn’t struggle. Didn’t even try to claw or hiss. Just curled tighter against your chest, her body trembling as a soft, tentative purr vibrated against your sternum.

You looked down. She looked up.

That was the moment.

You didn’t have a name for her yet. You didn’t have a plan. Hell, you didn’t even know if pets were allowed at the compound.

But none of that mattered.

You walked the rest of the way with one arm wrapped around your jacket, cradling a soggy, wide-eyed ball of fur like she was the most precious thing in the world.

You didn’t even make it two steps into the building before Bob spotted you and said, flatly, “You’re keeping it.”

You didn’t argue. Because he was right.

You hadn’t meant to adopt a cat. But it turns out, she’d already adopted you.

"Your name is Alpine," you whispered as you tiptoed into your shared bedroom with Bucky, cradling the tiny fluff ball like a state secret.

She was warm in your arms, damp fur already drying against the softness of your shirt, her little body nestled in like she belonged there. "And you, my girl, are a secret agent."

Alpine blinked up at you with slow, sleepy eyes. Then she let out the tiniest sneeze, her whole body jolting with the force of it.

You smiled, tucking her closer. “We’ll work on stealth.”

Operation Hide-The-Cat was officially underway.

You were surgical in your efforts. Strategic. Diligent. The litter box went in the back of your closet, camouflaged behind a wall of boots and a perfectly draped robe. Her food and water bowls were slipped into a lower drawer you’d emptied and converted into a makeshift dining nook, lined with a towel and everything.

You bought a ridiculous amount of pet wipes and dry shampoo to keep her from smelling too obviously like cat. Her toys were buried between pillows and blankets, and her treats were stashed behind rows of books on your shelves, labeled as "protein bars" in case anyone peeked.

Alpine had more square footage and amenities than some junior agents in the compound.

You even rigged the air vents with dryer sheets to mask the scent, knowing full well Ava liked to crawl through them when she was bored—or looking to scare the shit out of someone. If she found out about Alpine, it would be game over.

Not because Ava would snitch. But because she’d absolutely try to recruit her into the team.

The first few days were a breeze. Alpine slept for hours, nestled in the crook of your arm or burrowed into the soft blankets you arranged like a throne.

She ate delicately, gave you tiny headbutts whenever you reached for your phone, and purred like a small engine when you read aloud at night. It was like living with a warm, sleepy marshmallow who occasionally attacked your socks.

Then she discovered Bucky’s jacket.

It was just hanging there—carelessly draped over the back of your chair, like he always left it when he stayed over in your room.

Dark blue, soft with wear, the kind of thing he grumbled about losing but never actually took back. It smelled like him—pine and clean soap and just a trace of that cologne he insisted he didn’t wear.

The same jacket he’d left behind after that quiet night in, when the two of you had curled up on your bed with takeout and old black-and-white movies. You’d fallen asleep on his chest halfway through Casablanca, and he hadn’t moved a muscle until morning.

You never gave it back.

Apparently, neither could Alpine.

You caught her the first time while brushing your teeth, half-asleep, groggy, and wondering what the soft thump-thump-thump was behind you.

There she was, in all her tiny glory, rolling back and forth on the jacket like she’d claimed it in the name of the feline empire.

You watched in disbelief as she kneaded her little paws into it—making biscuits like it was hers, purring so loud it echoed off the tiles.

From that point on, it was a losing battle.

Every time you turned around, there she was—wrapped in it like a burrito, dragging it off the chair like a victorious hunter, or burrowed into its folds with her head poking out like royalty in a four-poster bed.

You tried to relocate it. Hang it up. Even hide it. Somehow, she always found it.

You started picking fur off it obsessively, lint rolling like your life depended on it—every sleeve, every seam, every goddamn inch of it.

But it was too late.

Because when Bucky walked in three nights later, gaze sharp and mouth already forming some sarcastic comment about your tendency to “hog all the blankets,” he paused mid-step. His eyes dropped to the chair. His brows furrowed.

Then he picked up the jacket.

Held it at arm’s length.

And pulled one long white hair off the collar.

You froze.

Alpine, traitor that she was, chose that exact moment to sneeze again—from under your bed.

Day Seven.

You were in the kitchen reheating leftovers, Alpine nestled warm and content inside Bucky's jacket like a smug little stowaway.

She’d made herself a nest just under the zip, her tiny head poking out beneath your chin, her soft purr vibrating gently against your sternum.

Her paws were tucked against your chest, and her tail flicked lazily beneath the fabric, occasionally brushing your ribs like a mischievous secret waiting to be exposed.

You stirred the pasta one-handed, trying not to disturb her. She’d been sleepy and clingy all morning, refusing to be left alone in the pile of blankets you’d made for her on the bed.

You’d tried sneaking away twice, once for the bathroom, once for food, and both times she’d meowed like you’d abandoned her forever.

So here you were, cooking one-handed with a clingy fur baby zipped into your jacket like the world’s neediest hot water bottle.

That’s when your boyfriend walked in.

Fresh from training. His shirt clinging to him like a second skin, damp with sweat in all the distracting places.

He had that casual, unbothered look about him—like he didn’t even realise how effortlessly distracting he was.

He paused the second he saw you.

His brows drew together, subtle but sharp. “Hey,” he said, voice low as he crossed to the cabinet for a mug.

“Hey,” you echoed, far too casually, heart skipping when Alpine’s tail twitched right as he passed behind you. You subtly shifted your stance to hide the movement.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, frowning faintly. “...You purring?”

You blinked. “What?”

He tilted his head, mug in hand, a smirk just barely beginning to tug at his mouth. “I swear I just heard purring.”

“No you didn’t.”

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing slightly, “Are you purring?”

“Why would I purr?” you asked. "That’s not even something people do.”

“Not usually, no,” he said slowly, taking another step forward, eyes dropping briefly to the suspicious lump in your hoodie.

You held your ground. “I’m cold.”

“In June?”

You cursed the climate-controlled compound. Couldn’t they have made it slightly more believable?

And then—of course—Alpine chose that exact moment to stretch.

A soft meow slipped out of her as she extended one paw toward your zipper like she was participating in the worst game of peekaboo. Her little white head pushed through next, blinking sleepily at the sudden light.

There was a long beat of silence.

Bucky just stared.

Alpine blinked up at him, completely unbothered, tail flicking like she was proud of herself.

And Bucky—

He smiled.

Not a smirk. Not one of his usual crooked, knowing grins. A real smile. Slow and soft and a little stunned, like it had crept up on him without warning. Like he hadn’t expected it. Like he hadn’t expected you.

“You adopted a cat,” he said quietly.

“Rescued a cat,” you corrected quickly, your hand already stroking her head out of pure guilt. “I didn’t mean to. She was just... there. In a box. In the rain. She looked at me. And sneezed. I didn’t stand a chance.”

Bucky stepped closer, something unreadable in his eyes. “She yours?”

You nodded. “Technically, she’s off the books. Like… extremely off the books.”

He crouched slightly, careful and deliberate as he reached out and scratched behind Alpine’s ear.

She melted instantly. Eyes fluttering shut. Purr ramping up like a motor.

You watched, heart thudding.

“Well,” he murmured, not looking away from her, “she’s got good taste.”

“In jackets?” you teased, a little breathless.

“In people,” he said, finally meeting your eyes.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Alpine let out a pleased little chirp, completely oblivious to the tension she’d just wandered into.

You exhaled slowly. “Guess the secret’s out.”

Bucky chuckled. “Wasn’t much of a secret. Pretty sure Yelena saw her yesterday licking marinara off the kitchen counter.”

You groaned, leaning your head back against the fridge. “Of course she did.”

“She took a video,” Bucky added, laughing now.

You covered your face with your hand. “She’s never letting this go.”

“Relax,” he said, voice warm. “No one’s kicking her out. She’s... kind of perfect. A little menace. Like you.”

You looked at him then. Really looked. His expression was open, easier than you’d seen it in days. Like Alpine’s very presence had cracked something in him.

“You mean that?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. She can stay.”

You grinned. “But she has to share the jacket?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean my jacket that you permanently borrowed?”

“You left it here, technically.”

He leaned in and kissed your temple. “Semantics, sweetheart.”

Later that night, when you wandered into the living room with a book in one hand and Alpine’s new toy in the other, you stopped in the doorway.

There they were.

Bucky was stretched out on the couch, hair still damp from his post-shower rinse. One arm tucked behind his head, mouth parted slightly in sleep. And curled right on top of him, nestled into the center of his chest like she’d been born to be there—Alpine. Her tiny paws rose and fell with his breathing, purring so loud you could hear it across the room.

Neither stirred. You didn’t say anything.

Just stood there, smiling softly, heart full and warm in a way you hadn’t expected when this week started.

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

I think I melted.

POUNDTOWNNN

pretty much just osamu miya fucking you lol

it starts with dinner. or, it’s supposed to.

you’d shown up at his place looking all soft and flushed from the heat outside, one sleeve slipping off your shoulder, talking about how you were starving — and osamu had tried to behave. he’d actually started cooking. apron on, sleeves rolled up, hair pushed back from his forehead, doing his best not to look at the little sway in your hips every time you walked past him in that stupid little skirt.

but then you'd leaned over the counter to grab a glass, ass brushing against his front without a thought, and he’d stilled. paused mid-stir. breath catching just behind his teeth.

“you hungry or just teasin’ me, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low.

you’d looked at him over your shoulder, smile slow, mouth glossy.

“can’t i be both?”

and that’s when dinner stopped mattering.

he didn’t lunge for you right away — he’s not like that. he doesn’t lose his composure in one breath. he holds it in his chest, simmers with it, lets it burn before he makes his move. but the silence that followed? thick. suffocating. hot with tension.

you turned back toward the counter, poured your drink. took one slow sip.

he was behind you before you could set it down.

“you know what you’re doin’ when you wear shit like that,” he murmured, big hands sliding up your hips, fingers splaying over your stomach, “you act like you don’t, but i know better.”

you inhaled, sharp. your spine arched without thinking — your body always knew how to respond to him before your brain did.

“sam—” you whispered.

“nah,” he cut in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “you don’t get to play innocent. not when you been actin’ like you don’t need me all week.”

he turned you around, slow. trapped you between the counter and his chest. his eyes were dark already — focused and still, but burning underneath, like the first roll of thunder before the storm.

“tell me somethin’, baby,” he said, hands sliding down to your thighs, thumbs pressing into that soft inner skin, “how long you been like this?”

“like what?” you breathed.

he smirked — slow, filthy, like he already knew your answer.

“needy.”

your breath hitched, and his gaze dropped — just in time to watch your thighs press together.

“mm. there it is,” he whispered, like he’d caught you in the act. “fuck, you’re squeezin’ your legs already.”

he dropped to his knees without another word, right there on the cold tile. your glass clinked as you gripped the edge of the counter behind you.

“’samu—”

he huffed a laugh, already pushing your skirt up.

“can’t even wait for dinner,” he muttered, like he was talking to himself. “gonna taste you first.”

and when he yanked your panties down and saw the mess you’d already made?

he groaned — a deep, rough sound — and grabbed behind your thighs, forced one leg over his shoulder and pressed his mouth right to your cunt without hesitation.

you cried out, hand flying to his hair.

his tongue was slow at first — long, greedy licks from your entrance to your clit — like he was tasting dessert before the main course. but that only lasted a second, because the moment you whimpered his name? he lost it.

his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking hard, tongue flicking in rhythm with the way his fingers dug into your thighs.

“god,” he muttered between licks, “always so wet for me. can’t fuckin’ help yourself, can you?”

and you couldn’t. your knees buckled. your hips rocked forward, chasing every stroke of his tongue.

“hold still,” he growled, one arm wrapping behind your thigh again to keep you in place. “let me eat.”

you didn’t mean to kick. but your leg jerked — a sudden, helpless reflex when he flattened his tongue and sucked hard, then slid two fingers inside you in the same breath.

your heel knocked against the drawer. he didn’t even flinch.

“yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, sliding his fingers deeper, curling them right where he knew they’d make you scream. “kick all you want. ain’t stoppin’ till you’re cryin’ on my fuckin’ tongue.”

and you did.

your foot kicked again, toes curling against the cabinet, one hand smacking the counter blindly, the other fisting in his hair. your moans turned high and desperate, body twitching every time his fingers dragged along that spot inside you, tongue never once letting up on your clit.

you came fast. too fast — hips grinding against his mouth, thighs shaking, gasping his name through sobs.

he kept going.

he licked you through it, fingers still thrusting, face buried between your legs like he couldn’t get close enough. your feet scrambled against the tile, knees threatening to give out completely, but he didn’t stop until you were shaking — until your leg kicked again, and your voice broke, and you cried out his name like it hurt.

then — finally — he pulled back.

face soaked. lips shiny. chest heaving.

“you good?” he asked, like he hadn’t just ruined your ability to stand.

you nodded, weakly, legs trembling. your mouth opened — but no words came out.

he stood slowly, letting your leg fall back down around him, and leaned in close. kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then your lips — all gentle, despite the wreckage he’d just made of you.

“you think we’re done?” he murmured, breath hot.

you blinked, dazed.

“we haven’t even started, baby.”

“hop up.”

his voice was low, but sharp. no room for question.

you didn’t even try to walk — your legs were still too shaky — so osamu just hooked his hands under your thighs again and lifted you onto the counter like it was nothing. your back hit the cabinets. your skirt was still bunched around your waist. and your panties? hanging somewhere around your ankle.

he didn’t even look for them.

he stepped between your legs and undid his pants with one hand, eyes locked on yours the whole time. his knuckles brushed your still-dripping cunt, slow and teasing — and when he finally pulled his cock out, already hard, still heavy from holding back that long, your mouth parted on instinct.

he smirked.

“yeah?” he muttered, voice gravel-thick. “that what you want?”

you nodded, breathless.

“words,” he growled. one hand wrapped around your thigh again, fingers digging in just enough to make you squirm. “need to hear how bad you want it.”

“i want you,” you whispered. “want you to fuck me.”

his groan was guttural — almost like he hadn’t expected you to give it up so easily.

“fuckin’ finally.”

then he grabbed under your thighs again, angled your hips forward, and slammed into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.

you gasped — mouth open, body jerking, toes flexing where your legs dangled over the edge of the counter. your heel banged against the cabinet. your head tipped back, dizzy with the stretch.

“god, baby,” he hissed, hips pulling back just enough to thrust again, deep and slow. “tight as fuck. still so wet. fuckin’ knew you needed this.”

you moaned, already clinging to his shoulders. he felt too big like this — hips grinding into you, balls slapping wet against your ass with every thrust — and the counter was too high, too hard beneath you, everything rubbing and burning in just the right way.

and osamu didn’t ease up.

he found his pace quick — rough, steady, relentless — like he’d been thinking about this all week. his fingers pressed bruises into your thighs. his cock drove into you again and again, thick and hot, coated in everything he’d licked out of you earlier.

“look at you,” he grunted, “legs fuckin’ shakin’. this all it takes? my cock this good to you?”

you tried to answer — really, you did — but your breath hitched every time his hips slammed forward. your feet kicked against the lower cabinet, little taps in time with his thrusts.

he grabbed your chin, forced your gaze to meet his.

“say it.”

“y–yeah,” you gasped. “samu, fuck— it’s so good.”

he growled, pulled out halfway, then slammed back in so hard your head hit the cupboard.

“that’s what i thought.”

and then he lost it.

his thrusts picked up — harder, faster, all control gone. your arms wrapped around his shoulders just to stay upright, your whole body jolting with every brutal snap of his hips.

“been wantin’ to fuck this attitude outta you for days,” he spat, “and look at you now. can’t even talk. just moanin’ and takin’ it.”

you whimpered, legs twitching where they hung off the counter, heels scraping at the edge.

“so fuckin’ pretty like this. my girl. mine.”

he punctuated each word with a deep thrust. your nails clawed at his back. your moans turned into sobs — the kind that caught in your throat and made your feet kick, again and again, without control.

he noticed.

“yeah,” he panted, “kick for me, baby. show me how much you need it. show me what this cock does to you.”

you couldn’t help it — you came again, hard, back arching off the counter, toes curling, thighs twitching around his hips.

“fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, watching your face contort as you fell apart. “that’s my girl. god, you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

but he didn’t stop.

he didn’t even slow down.

he kept fucking into you, even as your body spasmed, even as your eyes rolled, even as your feet kicked helplessly against the drawers — all sharp, frantic little taps of overstimulation.

“can’t stop now,” he muttered, voice rough, “feels too fuckin’ good. needa cum in you. fill you up, baby.”

you gasped, barely able to hold yourself up anymore, hands slipping on the counter behind you.

“s–samu—please—”

he grunted, pulled your hips closer, and slammed into you so deep your legs jerked again, body twitching.

“where do you want it, sweetheart?” he panted, already losing it. “wanna feel me spill inside you? wanna be full?”

you nodded frantically, unable to speak.

“good girl,” he growled, “gonna fuckin’ give it to you—gonna fill you up so good—make you feel me for days—”

and with a broken moan, he came. hips stuttering, cock pulsing deep inside, fingers gripping your thighs so tight they shook. he pressed his forehead to yours, breath hot, body shuddering with each spurt.

you both stayed like that for a second. breathless. wrecked. skin hot.

and then osamu pulled back — looked down.

“jesus,” he muttered, watching it drip out of you. “look what you fuckin’ do to me.”

you don’t even get a moment to breathe.

he’s pulling out slowly, thick and wet and still hard, and the way his cum slips out of you makes him groan like it’s turning him on all over again.

“shit, baby,” he mutters, “you’re leakin’ all over the fuckin’ counter.”

you squirm, too sensitive to move, thighs still twitching, cunt aching.

but osamu just leans down, kisses the inside of your knee—sweet, soft—and then lifts you off the counter like you weigh nothing. your legs wrap around him automatically, arms loose around his neck, and your head falls to his shoulder with a weak sigh.

you think maybe—maybe—he’s taking you to clean up.

but he turns and carries you straight to the bedroom instead.

“not done,” he says under his breath. “gonna fuck you right this time. slow. deep. gonna keep you full till you’re cryin’.”

he drops you on the bed—soft, gentle—and the second your back hits the sheets, you feel him dragging your knees apart again. he’s between them instantly, mouth already back on your inner thigh, kissing up to your still-puffy folds.

and when his tongue slides through your slit—warm, slow, catching every drop of his own cum—your legs twitch, hips jerking off the bed.

“samu—” you gasp, hand flying to his hair.

he groans against your cunt.

“gonna clean you up, baby,” he says, voice vibrating against your clit, “tastes too fuckin’ good to waste.”

his tongue dips inside, messy and slow, licking into the mess he left there like he’s starving. your legs kick again—little, desperate jolts against the sheets—but he holds you open with both hands and moans into your pussy like he’s not even breathing anymore.

“fuck,” he pants, “still so wet. so fuckin’ good. want you like this forever.”

you’re whimpering now, hips squirming away, but he doesn’t let up—his mouth keeps working, slow and filthy, tongue curling around your clit until your hands are clawing at the sheets and your voice is breaking with each sob.

“p–please—samu, i can’t—”

“you can,” he growls. “and you will. i’m not done till you’re full again.”

and then he’s up—crawling over you, cock dragging through your folds again, wet and still leaking. he’s slower this time, more deliberate, and when he pushes in, it’s deep—so deep your back arches off the bed.

your toes curl. your feet kick against the mattress, little helpless movements with each stretch.

“that’s it,” he groans, snapping his hips once, twice, deep and deliberate. “just like that. take all of me.”

your mouth falls open—you’re gasping, eyes rolling, hands fisting the sheets.

“you feel that?” he growls, fucking you slow and hard now, each thrust grinding deep. “feel how good you take me? made for this fuckin’ cock.”

you nod—barely.

he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

“nah. tell me. tell me what you need.”

you whimper, tears spilling. “need you—need it deep, need you to cum in me again—please, samu—”

his thrusts slam harder, dragging sobs from your throat.

“fuckin’ love it when you beg.”

he starts pounding now—fast, brutal, your legs bouncing with every thrust, the bedframe hitting the wall. your feet kick again, wild now, heels digging into the mattress, and osamu is grunting above you, jaw tight, sweat dripping onto your skin.

“gonna ruin you,” he hisses. “gonna keep you full all night. gonna fuck you so good you forget your own name.”

and you do.

you cum again—loud, shaking, whole body convulsing beneath him—and he follows with a growl, slamming deep and spilling inside you again, hips stuttering with each twitch of his cock.

when it’s over, he doesn’t pull out.

he just collapses over you, breathing hard, still buried inside you, your legs wrapped around him tight.

and then—

a soft kiss to your collarbone. a gentle stroke down your thigh. a whisper, lips still hot against your skin:

“one more in the shower, yeah?”

a/n: yes smut is the first thing i decided to post after neglecting this account for months

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

Preventing a girl my age from getting kidnapped by her boyfriend while working at a gas station was not on today's bingo card. Be careful out there, regardless of your gender identity.

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

So what if I just straight up flee the country. Like England is looking real good right now. WHY US FIRST😭

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

Living in the Greenville pollen with a sprinkle of wildfire smoke and ash is absolutely not what I needed this spring. Gotta love SC.

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

It's 1am this is not what I asked for google 💀

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

I don't like talking things out because I've grown up in a family where talking it out is talking back, and it never solves anything and I always end up in trouble.

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

I'm counting down the days until college move in day. I need to get out of this dysfunctional family. For context, it's the "We are dysfunctional but we refuse to admit it" kind of shit.

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

Nah I just woke up to rain hitting my window hard enough that I was worried I might break.

we went from having wildfires to a tornado warning to extreme winds and rain and possibly hail.

sc, is you tryna tell me something?

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

Like all I can smell is a bonfire in some parts of the upstate 💀

Is this me realizing that you also live in SC? Cause I live in Greenville. Yk, the county where people are always getting shot?

i do live in sc. for some reason friday we had a hostage situation, a stand off , some shooting in king street, just weird shit be happening bruh 😭😭

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

Ong, because why did someone get shopped in a shopping center yesterday, half of SC is on fire, and the police were arresting a homeless man at the bojangles across from my job yesterday too 😭

Is this me realizing that you also live in SC? Cause I live in Greenville. Yk, the county where people are always getting shot?

i do live in sc. for some reason friday we had a hostage situation, a stand off , some shooting in king street, just weird shit be happening bruh 😭😭

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

BROOOOO AND THE GAMES ON THAT ONE SHIP

LIKE THE ENTIRE WEBSITE OF GOGIRLGAMES BETWEEN 2012-2018

THAT'S SO AWFUL NOSTALGIA 😭

“Eww don’t ship them ! They’re just friends/ they hate each other/ they barely have any interaction/they never even met/they’re not from the same series !”

Pussy. Back in my days, we shipped Elsa and Jack Frost to hell and back because they were both ice themed.

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

So after I posted the poll asking about if I should get a wheelchair, I got this comment under that post.

Thought it was weird. My first thought was to take a screenshot of his profile, his profile picture, etc. The I messaged him, because I wasn't sure if he was going to give me advice, or be a fucking creep.

He chose the latter.

Literally what the fuck.

I am a disabled, 18 year old, who literally only turned 18 in October.

Pedophilia at its finest.

Anyway, yall watch out. Be safe, please.

Putting him on blast because people like him deserve it.

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

So like, because of my FND, it's been increasingly difficult for me to walk, and it happens in random moments. For example, I'm at practice as I'm typing this. We have a competition on Saturday, but I can't rehearse today because of this. So this begs the question, "Should I get a wheelchair?"

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

This literally just made my day. Had a shitty practice, so reading this just made me feel so much better.

💖 Feeling something w/ Logan because something about him is just high-key comforting

1. Definitely on the chubby side. Something I'm not super insecure about, but sometimes people make fun of it and that's not a great feeling.

2. Sometimes I struggle with keeping on task or understanding what people say. It takes me a second to process things and sometimes I need it to be dumbed down a bit like I'm 6.

3. I really like sleeping. Like really. And if I'm not asleep I'm either watching TV with a cat in my lap or I'm baking/cooking something.

The things I'd let that man do.

+ I know that I already made a request, but if you could also add some stuff about Functional Neurological Disorder (FND)? It's my mental health disorder and it affects me daily. It involves tics for the most part, but it also affects how much I stutter or if I can speak at all, but also how hard walking may be.

Logan is high key comforting because he's got that angry at the world but secretly a softie kind of thing going on and its just so endearing.

Look Logan has been alive for 200 years that man does NOT give a fuck about typical beauty standards. He 1000% loves his partners all shapes and sizes. He does not discriminate anything. Plus I always thought Logan would gravitate towards curvier people than skinner and I'm not just saying that my ass is a fucking walking stick bug and I think Logan would much prefer someone with curves.

He's a protector at heart so you know he'd claw anyone who even thinks to insult you or make fun of you. Logan isn't great at the lovey dovey stuff but he sees the way you face falls and he'll kiss your frown away. Saying stuff about how you're always his girl and not to listen to assholes.

He really is a softie at heart and finds your questions endearing, he doesn't care if he needs to explain it again for you, he likes that you go to him for stuff like that. Also he is just a big cat so he would happily cuddle up with you. Sometimes he can't sleep but he will just hold you as you sleep and hopefully it lulls him asleep too.

Logan is very soft with the people who mean the most to him. He will never judge you for your tics or the way you speak and you bet your ass he would put three claws into anyone who does. He would be there to help if you need it and he makes sure you know you can always ask him for help. That he's still learning how to do it himself too sometimes but the one thing he's learning is that you don't have to do things alone. He would happily carry you if you can't walk and be patient if you're having trouble speaking. He would do anything for you.

[sparklyskeletonsworld]

Never felt more personally attacked.

When there isn’t 20 new fics for me to read after refreshing the tag (I just finished reading everything and have absolutely no patience)