Most of these are taken from my Wattpad account! (Twtrash01)
Send me requests for the following Fandoms: Teenwolf, Vampire Diaries, Dolantwins, OUAT(Peter Pan, Robbie Kay, Supernatural, Suicide Squad, The 100. Basically I’ll write for any fandom. I’ll write non-smut as well. Be specific in what you want! *I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS*
Requests: Can I have a Damon smut where he sees me hanging out with Stefan and he thinks I’m flirting with him he brings me back to their house can I have face riding too
I’m starting with a new building series on my YouTube channel. Baisically, in this series I will be rebuilding every single lot in the Granite Falls. My aim is to have prices similar to the original ones. I started with the smallest and cheapest one - Granite Falls Campground.
The Campground is available for download on my Gallery (HeyNekoMei or #simswithmei).
This man disguised himself as a water protector. He is actually a DAPL worker. His rifle was loaded and speeding towards Oceti Sakowin camp. He was then run off the road and he ran away into the water. I remember people yelling “CALL THE BIA” which was the tribal law enforcement. He was arrested in the water where I took this video. Everyone was confused, tired, angry… We don’t need this negativity. The water protectors who are trying so hard to be peaceful can be taken away because of people like this DAPL infiltrator.
Please support Standing Rock. They need your support!!
King Butterfly thought Star and Marco were dating but also showed he was okay with it. He could run at speeds of at least 120 mph so if he didn’t like Marco he could have easily taken Marco out. Also Marco didn’t deny it the first time. Also this show will be the death of me.
what is this?: a bo burnham imagine summary: you’re both summer camp counselors, and the entire camp ships you words: 1433 triggers: none except for cuteness
“Do you think I’ll
“Unlikely. Creeks aren’t
“What if I get malaria
from the mosquitos?”
“What? It’s true.”
You rolled your eyes
and lean on his shoulder, or rather, his upper arm. If only he would just shrink a few inches. You’re on the
rickety bus to Camp Victory, not as campers but as senior counselors. You both
needed the service hours and, anyway, it’s
not like either of you would really have been doing anything else over the
summer, unless you count the vicious Mario Kart tournaments that almost always
ends with Bo threatening a breakup. You know Bo’s going to be great at this
whole counselor thing, because he’s essentially a kid himself— when he’s not
writing satire about religion, at least. But as for you… kids aren’t exactly
your forte, and here you are about to deal with a whole cabin full of them.
You feel Bo shift a bit
under you. “Hey, lay off. I thought we weren’t doing PDA for… three weeks?
“Oh, relax, you big
baby,” you say, closing your eyes. “We’re not there yet.” You’d insisted on this stipulation before you left, much to
your boyfriend’s dismay. You figured making out in front of a bunch of kids
wasn’t exactly the best way to show the face of responsibility.
“In that case, I think
I should be able to get another kiss before this dumb dry spell you’re forcing
You don’t say anything
at first; you only tilt your head back stick your lips out in your worst
duck-face impression. “Come and get it.”
You can feel his smile
when he kisses you, the edge of his glasses gently pushing in to your cheek. You’re
the one who pulls away though, and when Bo tries to come back for more you push
a finger against his lips.
“Three weeks,” you say.
You decide that, upon
arrival, Camp Victory was originally built for munchkins. There are two facing
rows of small cabins, twelve in all, odd numbers on one side, even on the
other. Each is crammed with four bunk beds but no utilities—- just two small dressers
with drawers, some shelves, and eight coat hooks. Bo was seriously going to have some bruises on him the first few days. You’d
read on the website that it was owned by a church, which donated the camp to
the county’s social services for three weeks each summer for summer camp. It
was run on a shoestring, and you didn’t expect more than the basics. The basics
were all you got.
You and Bo are split
from the second you get off the bus; boys get the odd-numbered cabins, and
girls, the even ones. Senior counselors, you found out, were to be in charge of
seven kids each, ages seven to ten. Every cabin was supposed to choose a name
for itself— your girls pick Werewolves, which should have told you something
After everyone gets
their stuff settled in the cabins and sleeping assignments are arranged,
everything happens at top-speed. Mr. Harrigan, the camp director, hands all the
counselors clipboards with their kids’ names and that cabin’s schedule for the
day. It seems that Mr. Harrigan doesn’t want to waste one second of the long
summer hours, and the rest of your day is filled with baseball, volleyball,
canoeing, and hiking. You have to keep mentally counting your girls to make
sure none of them have run off.
The next time you see
Bo is when you pass him and his boys during an activity switch. “Hey, Bo,” you
say, nudging him with your hip. “What name did you get yourselves? I’ve got the
“Buzzards,” he replies,
tucking his clipboard under his arm. “AKA, the best name.” He doesn’t get to say more, because one of his boys
quickly runs up and grabs his arm.
“Bo, c’mon! The canoe
race is gonna start any minute!”
Bo raises his eyebrows
at you, the corners of his lips twitching up as he allows the boy to lead him
away. You can’t help but stand and smile after them, and it’s not long before
one of your own girls tugs your shirt.
You and the rest of the Werewolves spend the quiet
hour after dinner not-so-quiet at all, working out whose stuff is left
everywhere and whose shoes are stinking up the place. You’re about to collapse
into a twenty minute nap when one of them— Abigail, you think her name is—
says something that gets your attention.
“You know, I bet [Y/N] likes that tall counselor.” Giggling ripples through the little
wooden cabin. Abigail’s voice gets all sing-songy then. “Doooo you, [Y/N]? Huh?
You shrug. “Maybe,” you say, knowing your vagueness
will drive them bananas. It does, and they shriek with laughter.
“What would you do if we told him?” Another girl.
Her name’s… what? Jessie?
You laugh. “Oh, I’d hang you by your little
toenails, girl-baby.” More laughter, because they don’t need to know you’re actually
dating that cute tall counselor just yet.
They also don’t need to know that he holds your hand
under the blanket at the campfire that night.
The weeks slip by, and before you know it you’re constantly
covered in angry mosquito bites, sweat, and occasional lake water. Bo’s not
faring too well, either; the Buzzards and Werewolves had crafts together one
day, and Bo just couldn’t stop scratching.
“Stop it!” you say, slapping his hand down when you
see it move up to his arm. “Scratching it only makes it worse.”
“Oh, come onnnnn, [Y/N]! I think I might actually be
“Pft, drama queen.”
You notice that Bo’s boys are looking at the both of
you in a really weird way, and when you catch them a smatter of giggling breaks
out, followed by a bunch of whispers. You raise your eyebrows pointedly at your
boyfriend, which clearly asks: Motherfucker,
did you tell a bunch of fourth graders we were dating?
“I didn’t say anything,” Bo says quickly, raising
his hands up in a quick surrender, but your eyebrows only get higher.
“Why. Are. They. Looking
at us like that?…”
“Relax. Robbie 2000 has got it all under control.”
You hit him with your
clipboard when he says that stupid nickname from high school, but your question
still isn’t really answered.
But does he answer your question on the last night
of camp. Oh, yes, he does.
The last campfire goes like the usual ones— he
sits by you and everyone sings all the traditional campfire songs and some
ghost stories go around. But when the hour’s up and you start to stand to get
back to your cabin, Bo pulls you back down. “You’ll wanna see this,” he
whispers before he gets up. The chatter dies down and you see that the boys in
his cabin are looking particularly eager.
“Alright, so… quick little thing before you guys all
go… a few days ago two of my boys— Andy and Finn, I’m lookin’ at you— got
into this huge argument over whose shoes were laying in the doorway to our
cabin. So, being the responsible,
peacemaking counselor I am, I gave them some options: one, they work this out
themselves, but they don’t have to be friends. Two, they work it out and become friends. Three—“
“Bo kisses that girl he’s always with!” one of his
boys blurts, and the rest of the camp shrieks with laughter and surprised
yells. A huge smile splits your face and you struggle to push it off, trying to
appear as disgusted as the other girl campers were. You were, after all, the
face of responsibility…
“Now,” Bo says once the noise has died down. “I have asked Mr. Harrigan if it’s alright
if some PG-13 stuff is shown tonight, and he has agreed, so, props to Mr.
Harrigan—“ gesture to the director, who’s positively red with laughter at
what’s unfolding before him.
“And so, [Y/N],” Bo says, pulling you up to your feet,
“Would you do me a favor and kiss me on this fine night under the stars?”
Now you can’t fight the huge smile on your face that’s
probably making you blush like a schoolgirl, and you’re thankful for the
semi-darkness that’s coating you.
“You want to see me kiss this lovely boy?” you ask
the circle of campers around the fire. There’s cheers all around before you
turn back to face your boyfriend.
You walked down the street, a basket of fresh red apples and green grapes hanging from your arm. Your skirts swished as you treated carefully over the cobblestones, your eyes traveling over the bay of New York. You passed some red coats, quickening you step and ignoring them when you heard a whistle behind you. You picked up your pace even more, before cringing as you felt a hand land on your bicep, stopping your movement.
“Miss, what do you say you join me back at the home we’re staying at.” You struggled in his grip, frantically trying to pry his fingers from their grip.
“I’m rather afraid I am uninterested.” He snorted and you jerked your arm away, but it wasn’t any use. His hand stayed firmly wrapped around your arm.
“C’mon, you know it’s what you want.” You growled, shaking your head, fear bubbling up in your chest as another wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest as you squirmed frantically.
“I pay well, miss~” and with that, you slapped him across the face. He jerked away in surprise and you snarled at him.
“How DARE you! I am a married woman, and my husband Alexander will kick your ass!” With that, the red coats regarded you curiously, the pushy one still outraged.
“Hamilton?” Your eyes went wide as they spoke his name and you realized you had made a mistake. Instantly your arms were seized and you cried out trying to kick your way away from the men dragging you somewhere, probably not to give you some free food or anything remotely nice. You cried out for help, and while you recieved concerned or sympathetic looks, no one came to your aid as you were then hit across the head and dragged off, your feet and skirts dragging across the stones below you.
Alexander smiled as he laughed with his friends, but he was excited to see you. They had been given a brief vacation, and he planned on spending it with you. As his friends walked to the pub, he pushed open the door of the home you shared together and smiling happily. He was delighted to see you, and he could imagine your face when he arrived home, a surprise. “Darling! I’m home!” He smiled, waiting for a response, his smile waning as he heard nothing. He began moving from room to room, his pace picking up with each empty room, the furniture dusty, the bed untouched. He sprinted from the house, bursting into the pub, frantic.
“Alexander? Mon amie, are you alright?” Alexander panted, placing his hands on his friend’s shoulder.
“She’s gone.” The Laurens and Hercules exchanged looks, coming closer to Alexander. You had been friends with their group before you had married or even began courting Alexander, it was only natural they would be worried. It couldn’t be you, he couldn’t be talking about you…
“Who? Alexander, who’s gone.” He moved back, catching their eyes, his own filled with panic. Had she left him? Was she gone? Was she hurt, was she gone, was she dead?
“Y/N. She’s gone, she hasn’t been home in ages.” The group exchanged glances before bursting out of the pub, each man heading a separate direction to track down Y/N.
They gathered in front of the building, only Laurens missing. The three men exchanged morose looks, Alexander franticly running his hand through his hair. “She didn’t leave me, oh my god she totally left me, I love her, I thought she loved me, why would she-”
“Alexander!” Laurens came sprinting over, red in the face and obviously angry. “A woman said she say her being taken by british guards!” A hush fell over the group, all of their faces going livid. Alexander however…he had never been this mad in his life, it was terrifying. He wasn’t about to lose someone else he loved, especially not to some red coats. The group looked around before nodding to each other, the four setting off towards their camp to speak to George Washington.
You groaned in pain, spitting out blood as the crack of a hand across your face left a mark. Your only scowled up at the men in front of you, refusing to open your mouth. They assumed you had been privy to the general’s plans through Alexander, but of course he hadn’t mentioned military movements to his wife who wasn’t fighting in the war, why would he? Glaring angrily, you felt his boot collide with your ribs and hissed in pain, feeling something crack within you.
Suddenly there were shouts and bullets firing outside, and you groaned in pain, allowing your head to collapse to your chest as you breathed out, the world growing dark from the apion you were enduring.
Lafayette burst into the tent, finding you tied in the chair. He quickly cut you free, picking you up and exciting at top speed, heading towards where the rest of the troops waited with Hercules and Laurens. He had no doubt in his mind that Alexander was currently arguing to come get you with them. He softly handed you to Hercules, jumping into his saddle and taking you back gently, before riding wit breakneck speed towards the camp to deliver you to your husband.
Alexander was pacing in his tent, anxious and nervous. General Washington had refused to allow him to go but sent out LAfayette, Mulligan, and Laurens to gain you back along with a small troop of men. When he heard galloping, he burst outside, seeing you passed out in Lafayette’s arms. Instantly he raced forward, removing you from the french man’s grasp and holding you close to him while he cried tears of relief, pressing you close to his body as he peppered you face in kisses.
“Y/N, I’m so glad you’re safe, you’re safe now, I’m going to protect you, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
Lucas is excited for his camping trip with the guys. He was expecting some hiking, fishing and canned food. What he wasn’t expecting was meeting an amazing girl who he immediately has a connection to. The only problem? She’s his friend’s girlfriend. *Inspired by Rick Springfield’s song ‘Jessie’s Girl’.*
Being caught cuddling under a blanket with a friend of mines
girlfriend wasn’t my proudest moment. In the back of my head I knew it was
wrong. It’s not like we did anything but still, the intimacy of it was obvious.
There was no denying that Riley and I had a connection. In fact, I’m certain
everyone there could see it. They could see our blatant attraction to each
other. Jessie included.
Seeing him stand over us with a snarl on his face however,
was enough to push me over the edge. This dude had some nerve attacking us for
falling asleep together when just last night I heard him breaking the bed with
Chai. Riley didn’t deserve this.
“You’ve got some nerve, Porter.”
I say, getting up from my seat with Riley. She shifts in her spot, trying to
get to her feet.
“I don’t know if you know this but when I invited you to
stay at my parent’s cabin, the invitation didn’t extend to you fucking my
“We didn’t do anything.” Riley chimes in.
Soon enough everyone is by the front door and on the porch
watching us hash it out.
“I wasn’t talking to you, bitch.” Jessie snaps.
I grab him by the collar of his shirt and knock him off the
porch. He scrambles to his feet trying to find his balance.
“Don’t talk to her like that, man. What the hell is wrong
with you?” I jump over the rail landing a few feet away from him. I look over
and Zay’s at my side. He may be a lot of things but disloyal isn’t one of them.
“You really want to do this?” Jessie screams. “Over her?!” He shoves me backwards, trying to
get a rise out of me.
“What’s your problem Porter? You can fuck Chai upstairs
while everyone’s asleep but I’m not allowed to comfort Riley?”
I push him back and from the porch I can hear Riley yelling
‘Stop it!’ When I turn my face to
look at her, Jessie swings his fist, squaring me right in my jaw.
Today at Standing Rock during the 1851 Treaty Camp standoff, a hired DAPL security guard was spotted in the crowd with an automatic rifle in his vehicle. When he was spotted, he began to head towards camp. Water protectors made an effort to stop him on the road, in which he shot off onto the shoulder, and began speeding towards camp through the grass. The community feared for the women and children and began taking action. Water protectors began setting up a blockade at the bridge ahead, as 2 water protectors used their vehicles to crash into the security truck, causing him to spin out on the riverbank. The security then exited his vehicle, cocked his AR-15, and began back stepping from protectors into the nearby river. A near half hour stand off took place where water protectors pleaded and tried to defuse the situation of the man coming directly at their families. Eventually, BIA came to the scene, disarmed the man, and his was placed under arrest.
America, this is what is happening here. DAPL will do anything possible, include the threat of death and violence to get this pipeline through. DO NOT LET MAINSTREAM MEDIA LIE TO YOU. Protectors are facing the threat of death simply for protecting water and preserving history.
There was an ambient bossa track playing over the stereo system when Kaidan let himself back into Shepard’s apartment, and there was a grunting from the downstairs bedroom.
“Shepard?” Kaidan called. He made a bee-line for the back room, but moved sluggishly–between all the appearances and charity gigs in the last several hours, he felt grimy and exhausted underneath his armor. In the back bedroom, Shepard was on the floor pounding through a set of push-ups at practically boot-camp speed.
Kaidan crossed his arms, and cleared his throat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Shepard?” Shepard looked up, kept himself suspended on his arms and threw Kaidan a brilliant grin.
“Almost done with my workout.” Beads of sweat were caught in the scars that were slowly healing from his face, and his white shirt had a dark ‘V’ from the collar to the navel. Kaidan’s pajama pants were actually starting to look tight on Shepard’s legs again.
“You just had an operation today,” Kaidan chided, deciding to gingerly lower himself to sit on the floor after noticing how clean the bed looked.
“A small operation,” Shepard panted, “And I got back hours ago. Even took a nap. You would’ve been proud of me.”
“Yeah, well…” Kaidan shook his head in defeat and tipped back prone on the floor, feeling the muscles in his back slowly relax against the floor. Now it was Shepard’s turn to laugh.
“You look exhausted.”
“I feel exhausted!”
Shepard came to his knees, shuffled over to Kaidan and stretched out again into push-up position over top of Kaidan’s body. The look he gave Kaidan had nothing of the hospital-bed determination Kaidan had been so used to seeing on his face.
“That’s what you get for packing your whole social calendar into one day,” Shepard whispered, chest still heaving with the exertions of his workout.
“Wanted to make sure I got to spend my time with you,” when Kaidan saw the way his lower lip trembled, his kissed it deeply and folded Shepard into his arms. Any breath Shepard had caught since putting his set on hold had been kissed out of him by the time Kaidan pulled back and ran his hands down his body. “Saw a lot of things that… made me think, today.”
“Like?” Shepard nuzzled into Kaidan’s hair, his hips pressing him down into the carpet.
“Just… kids and… people rebuilding. Bunch of bright new recruits at C-Sec. Feels like the war’s really over…”
“It is Kaidan.” Shepard kissed him again, “We did it. You and me.”
“Yeah,” Kaidan hungrily accepted Shepard’s kiss.
“So… you ditched your mom just to interrupt my workout?” Shepard said playfully, but there was a needy suggestion hiding just behind his eyes, and Kaidan caught it.
“Miranda called me said they’d be getting dinner together at Apollo’s,” Kaidan said as Shepard began unbuckling his armor with nimble fingers. “Said she’d bring her back here when she was done.”
“Haven’t seen her,” Shepard said, pulling off the chest-plate to find Kaidan’s bare chest beneath.
“Figured I’d come home early: been thinking about you all day.” Kaidan’s breath hitched when Shepard kissed a line from navel to collarbone. “Worried about you…”
Shepard gave him a skeptical look and settled back onto his chest, taking Kaidan’s face in his hands.
“See, couldn’t you just have left it at ‘I was thinking about you all day?’” The kiss he gave Kaidan was mingled sadness and love. “You don’t have to worry about me all the time.”
“I love you,” Kaidan let the words tickle at Shepard’s ear as he pulled him into his body. “Of course I worry about you.”
“You could pretend to not worry.” Shepard buried his face in Kaidan’s neck.
“I think we’ve done enough pretending.” Kaidan rolled them over, staring down. Shepard nodded and smiled.
“Alright, Kay. I worry about you too,” he squeezed Kaidan’s hand. “Although, seeing you in that armor puts other thoughts in my head…”
Kaidan scarcely heard, and instead was staring at Shepard’s taped hands.
“Wha–what’s this? You’ve been using the punching bag?”
“I didn’t have any other way to let go of my tension till you got home.”
“Come on,” Kaidan got his feet, “I’m taking this tape off you! You need to relax!” He led Shepard out to the hall.
“You need to take this armor off and relax, lover!” Shepard playfully pushed him into the bathroom. “I think we have plenty of time before your mom gets back…”
“Umm, actually,” came a meek feminine voice from the upstairs, “I’ve been here for about an hour… didn’t want to spoil your exercise, dear. So I’ve been in the living room… just… living…”
Kaidan’s eyes went wide.
“She’s definitely your mother,” Shepard muttered, adjusting himself and blocking Kaidan’s bare chest from view as Mrs. Alenko swept down the stairs with a sheepish blush on her face. “Mrs. Alenko… I’m… just so pleased to meet you…”