fourth of july fun

The Perfect Blind Date - Dylan O’Brien

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Word Count: 10,822

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (both receiving), Multiple Orgasm, Public Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Morning Sex, Shirtless Dylan at the beach, Dylan on a motorcycle, slight shade coming from me towards my ex

Notes: So, @ninja-stiles an I were talking on day and we were sharing these motorcycle pictures of Dylan and Chris and we’re like “OMG WE SHOULD WRITE ABOUT THIS!” So, I wrote the Dylan side while she did the Chris side. The two fics are linked in plot but different in character and execution. So make sure to give hers a read as well! Also, this is slightly AU. Dylan is not famous here. Let him be a normal guy for a day y’all.

(As a note, her internet was being shitty today so I will post a link here as soon as she gets hers up! But still read hers once it is up because it is so good)

It’s hard to want to date when so many bad things have happened to you. One wrong turn in a relationship, and everything comes crashing down. Once that happens, why would you want to get back out there? You worry that the same thing will happen again, or that you won’t find the great guy you wish will sweep you off your feet the way you always imagine it.

Well, welcome to my life, honey.

Keep reading

2

Dark Side of the Moon, 5.16

Why don’t we talk about this more? Dean’s best memories in heaven are ones where he’s trying to make other people happy.  Taking Sam out to shoot off fireworks to give his little brother a fun Fourth of July, and trying to comfort his mother when he’s only four years old. Dean is happiest when the people he loves are happy too. Of course, that often works to his detriment (and the having to comfort his mother thing is several shades of fucked up, not to mention he was charged once again with caring for his brother and they were doing something seriously dangerous), but right now let’s just focus on Dean’s kind heart. And how much this man deserves someone who is just as interested in his happiness. 

in honor of the fourth of july, here is a patriotic bubble era yato

bonus points if you imagine him doing this

@yatorihell

Fun Fact 52

The flag of the United States has been modified 26 times since 1777. The current flag with 50 stars has been in use the longest since July 1960.

instagram

My wallet finally lost the battle to the iPad Pro. Looking forward to doing all kinda fun stuff with my new buddy! Happy Fourth of July! 🎉 #ipadpro #expensiveapple #animation #4thofjuly #animationdesk

Made with Instagram

anonymous asked:

Hiya. So im genderfluid and having a dysphoric day. Any chance for maybe transboy dean being comforted by cas??? Maybe someone calls him a girl by mistake and it just hits him?

Aw I’m sorry :( that sucks. I’ll try my best!

___

Dean had been having an okay day. They were at Cas’s parents house for the fourth of July weekend and things had been going great.

“I’m sorry Cas, but I hate your asshole sister,” Dean said, rubbing at the tear tracks left on his face.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. She said she wasn’t coming and then showed up at the last minute,” Cas replied, pulling Dean into his arms.

“I just… Why does she insist on calling me your girlfriend? I’m here in my swim trunks, I don’t even have boobs anymore, like what is her problem?” Dean mumbled into Cas’s neck.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. I don’t think she did it on purpose,” Cas said.

“Not trying hard enough to not call me your girlfriend is a conscious choice,” Dean said, frowning. He crossed his arms and pulled away from Cas, “It’s fourth of July, we’re meant to be having fun.”

“I didn’t mean to make excuses for her, babe. I just don’t think she’s being malicious.”

“It feels like she is,” Dean said, “I know I still have kinda girly eyes and lips, but like… I look like a dude, more now that ever! Right?”

“I’m sorry. You do look like a dude, and your eyes aren’t girly because they’re yours, and you’re not a girl, okay? You have manly eyes that happen to sparkle like emeralds. I don’t know why Hester has so much trouble with this. What can I do to make it better?”

“Let’s have loud gay sex right here,” Dean said.

“No.”

“On her car?”

“No.”

“Okay, final offer, we go to her house and I fuck you in her bed.”

“Dean.”

“Okay, fine. Whatever. I didn’t want to bang you anyways.”

“How about we go enjoy the sunshine, and eat a lot, and prank my brother. I’ll pull Hester aside and let her know what she did and that it’s not okay. She’ll apologize once she realizes, I know she will. Don’t let her ruin your holiday,” Cas said, “And then when we get home later we can have loud gay sex.”

“Hmm…,” Dean said, pouting, “Okay. But I don’t want to talk to her today. She can write me an apology. And also I want chocolates - from her, not you. Although if you want to get me some also, I guess I would be okay with that.”

“Alright, deal. I’ll make it happen. Wanna go eat hot dogs suggestively?” Cas asked.

“Hell yeah,” Dean replied, taking Cas by the hand and leading the way out into the back yard. 

never fade away, part vi

i cant tell you how many times i’ve re-written this just to have it all be deleted again. too many times.

i have a bad sunburn and it huuuuuuuurts like a mf.

let’s get this show on the road.

_____________________________________________

You knew, deep in the back of your mind, that no matter how smoothly your life had been going since you got home, something would eventually come along to mess it all up again. To reference an overused quote, “Nothing gold can stay.” You were indescribably happy every time you hung out with friends at a party or went for a car ride. You’d all sometimes even go exploring in old abandoned warehouses and take pictures. Such is the life of a high schooler on summer break. This, for you, was the calm before the storm.

Every once in a while, you’d wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, adrenaline rushing through your veins, heart pumping out of your chest. The copper-haired teenage psychopath who held you captive for weeks still had yet to make his way out of your nightmares. Sometimes, in the few seconds after you shot up from bed, you were paralyzed with the fear that he might be hiding in the dark corners of your room, and that he was going to kidnap you again- or worse. But your eyes would adjust and you would see that it was just you, the gentle humming of the fan in your room, and your dog sleeping soundly at your side; you would snuggle into the 10-month-old Australian Shepherd tightly and fall right back asleep.

You had gotten the dog, named Sadie, not long after the incident. Being a herding breed, she was very protective-a quality your parents valued (as they trusted she would grow into your personal guard dog, of sorts). She had a few months of being trained by a professional under her belt before your family adopted her, so she was not completely clueless on how to protect and alert you to danger if she sensed it. Your mother felt much more at ease knowing that you were being watched after, especially after you had flat-out refused to stay home and lay low for a while (“I’m not going to hide for the rest of my life mother. I’m not going to let the possibility of danger keep me from living my life. I’m not afraid of what’s out there.”)

You’d gotten in the habit of taking Sadie on walks, which is what you were doing the day the walls of your calm, normal life shattered once more. One decision to take a shortcut down an empty alley had changed the rest of your day. Sadie’s ears perked up and she stopped dead in her tracks before turning around and barking furiously. You whipped around suddenly and were met with the image of a small, greasy man with a smile that made you uneasy, and a tall man in a police uniform with a bloody bandage wrapped around his entire face and… copper hair. There was a chance it wasn’t the boy you guessed that it was, because come on, he was dead!- but you weren’t willing to take that chance. You sprinted off in the opposite direction as fast as your legs would carry you, Sadie as your side, seemingly trying to guide you to safety.

(Excerpt from a conversation you never heard: “Oh-oh my God! It’s her! I never imagined it would be this easy-!”

“Who? What are you talking about? Who’s ‘her’?”

“Going into the alley! Right there with the dog! That’s (y/n)! The two of you were meant to be together! See, we- the cult, that is- we tried to get her to join, since she’d been your… well, your… well, we couldn’t ever get her to tell us about your relationship. We all just assumed she was your girlfriend- after all, you had kept her with you for a few weeks, you seemed pretty possesive, too- but she wouldn’t ever talk to us… We all just guessed she was traumatized after watching you… die… Although-“

“Hey man, shut up. Tell me the rest of the story when we get back… Help me grab her, would you?”)

What you weren’t expecting in this unrealistic, nightmarish experience was actually making it safely to the next street over and finding help.

It didn’t happen, either.

There was suddenly a strong grip around your stomach, effectively lifting you off the ground, leaving you kicking and screaming for help. A cold, pallid hand left your side to roughly grab your face and hold it still. You were staring directly into the eyes of the bandaged and bloodied face, and you were terrified beyond words. “Hm,” he said in a croaky, gravelly voice you almost were familiar with, “You do look pretty familiar… Oh! Of course! I remember you now! Hey, how ya been-” His half-hearted greeting was cut short by Sadie gnawing on his left calf. (“Good girl”, you thought.) “Ow!” He rolled his eyes and tried to get a hold of his gun and shoot her, but before he could aim it, you were wildly pulling his arm away from her.

“NO! STOP!” You screamed, at the top of your lungs. “SADIE, RUN!” You half expected her to not move a muscle, because this was not a movie, and she probably didn’t even know that command, but to your surprise and relief, she bolted in the other direction. “LET ME GO!” You continued to shout, “GET OFF ME! STOP IT! G-” You were muffled by his hand covering your mouth.

“Chill out, would ya? God, the one person I wasn’t planning on killing tonight, and THIS is the thanks I get.” You were being thrown into the backseat of the car at this point, followed by the one who had carried you there. “You know where we’re going,” he noted to the other man, and shoved him in the driver’s seat. You, of course, were already clawing at the other door to get it to open, not a clue in the world as to what your plan would be if you really got out. “Jeez, would you- Would you stop that? Do you /want/ me to drug you?”

“NO! Let me OUT! GOD! I am not about to be kidnapped AGAIN by the same ginger freak! YOU SHOULD BE DEAD! WHAT THE FUCK! Get AWAY from me! LET ME GO! Get AWAY from me! YOU RUINED MY LIFE, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING NARCISSIST!” He said nothing in response, only grabbed a hold of both of your hands, and started tying them together using a wad of fresh gauze tape rolled up and laying on the floor. You figured that was the same thing he had used to bandage his face as well.

“Not that I’m against it or anything, but unless you want me to gag you as well, I’d suggest shutting the hell up. ‘Kay babe?”

You just sharply nodded, and shrunk away from him and as close to the door as possible. Sinking into the backseat of the car, you looked out through the window and were met with the view of an industrial park. “Hey, uh…” Jerome started, directing his words towards the gross little man driving. “What’s her name again?”

“(y/n),” the man offered.

“Right, (y/n), uh… What have you been up to since I died?”

You were absolutely incredulous. “Are… Are you joking with me right now? Is this a joke? Dude seriously?” He nodded. “Oh my God. Well if you NEED to know, I was in a psych ward for 6 weeks after I finally escaped because I had “severe mental trauma”, my body rejected solid foods for 9 days because YOU refused to feed me anything other than apple sauce and yogurt, and I had 3 different psychology professors fighting over who got to use me in their next case study. I also had to catch up on 4 weeks worth of school on my OWN time because the American public school system is shit, and no one at school talked to me for 2 weeks because they all thought you might have fucking brainwashed me. My life was JUST starting to go back to normal! I got my driver’s license-“

He seemed to be interested in this. “You had a birthday? You’re sixteen now?” You nodded. “Wow. That’s really a shame. Can’t believe I missed my girl’s birthday.”

“Fuck off. I’m not your anything.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll come around eventually.” His face (or, rather, lack thereof) lit up in a split second as he turned to you. “Ooh! I got an idea,” he grinned as the stolen police car you were in stopped in front of an abandoned warehouse. “Y'ever been to a carnival?”

“What? No,” you replied. He and his greasy friend both got out of the car before he walked over to your side, open the door, and pulled you out by your bicep.

"Don’t even think about runnin’, babe. That won’t end well.”

_________________________________________

there will be another update on the way soon. i forgot how much i love writing??? wtf???? i know this isn’t very good and im sorry for making you wait so long for such shitty writing but please be patient w me and i’ll have better stuff on the way.

in the mean time i’ve missed you all how have you been??

in the other meantime no worries to my other request i’m working on them

lastly please, as always, do not hesitate to send me a request if u want me to write anything!!! i love u all my friends also if ur in the usa, please have a fun and SAFE (!!!) fourth of july tomorrow. goodnight friendos catch u on the flippity flip

The Ring: Part 2

AN: The second and final part to the Ring. I’m a bit nervous about posting this one. I apologize in advance. The prompt is at the bottom.

Words: 1364

Part 1


It’s an out of body experience when you die. You remember how you died you just don’t remember how you got here. It’s been a while that much you can tell. Your husband and your sons are all at home. And they’re all dressed in black.

You try talking to them, but they don’t hear you. Jason is beating the punching bag and his knuckles are bloody and raw; you beg him to stop, but he doesn’t.

Tim is typing away on his keyboard. You can tell that from his eyes that he hasn’t slept in days. You beg him to stop, but he doesn’t.

Dick is running, his feet are pounding against the treadmill, as though he’s trying to outrun your death. His legs are shaking, and from what the timer says, he’s been on that damn treadmill for hours now. You beg him to stop, but he doesn’t.

Damian is just sitting on his bed, in the middle of his destroyed room. Lamps are broken, sheets have been torn, and there are punch marks in the walls. You beg him to say something, but he doesn’t.

You go to Bruce last; he’s in your shared bedroom, lying on the bed. He has one of your shirts clutched to his face. You can just make out the black and blue bruises covering his body. He’s been in fights, multiple fights. You kind of just sink to the floor, and if you could have cried, you would have.

The cries of a baby pull you from your thoughts. You move towards the bassinet in the corner, and you smile down at the baby there. You stick out your hand and try to stroke his cheek, but this form won’t allow that. You try cooing at him, and you seem to get his attention.

A moment later you’re proven wrong, as Alfred walks through you to reach the baby. He bounces the baby until he stops crying, and finally turns to Bruce and says, “Miss Y/N would be so disappointed in you. Not caring for the one piece of her that lives on. Instead you go into bars and fight. What would she say?”

Bruce’s voice is barely above a whisper, “She’d tell me I’m being a jackass, and to man up and be a father; to pull the family together and be there for our kids. And if she were here I’d do anything she asked, but she’s not, so it doesn’t matter.”

The butler doesn’t say a word as he sweeps out of the room. You lie down next to your grief stricken husband, and you watch as he drifts asleep.

You wake up in a white room, and you hear your name being called. You face a man you don’t know and all he says is, “This is your chance to say goodbye. Not many get this chance, use it wisely.”

Then suddenly you’re in the meadow behind the manor. The sun is shining, and your entire family is there. They’re all rather quiet as you sit down; their faces all turn towards you. Damian doesn’t even hesitate as he launches himself into your arms. You catch him with ease.

You stroke his hair, and when no one speaks, you decide to. “I’m here to say goodbye.” You can see the protests on their mouths and you hold up a hand to stop them, “I don’t want to, but I have to. I need to know that you guys are going to be okay. That you’re going to stop working yourselves to death, that you’ll eat right, that you’ll make time for the family. I need to know that you guys are going to stick together.”

There’s some sort of quiet agreement and you turn to Dick, and pull him in for a hug. His arms wrap tight around you and you stroke his hair, “I need you to land on your feet, baby bird. I need you to help your dad, I need you to smile, I need you to be that light you always are. It doesn’t have to be right away, but if you start to feel happy I want you to embrace that. It’s okay to be happy.” He nods before kissing your cheek, and pulling away.

Jason is next. You take his face in your hands and kiss his forehead. “Stay strong, big bird. Help keep the family safe, don’t let anyone do anything stupid. Keep an eye on Damian in particular. Don’t let your dad go off his path. The Batman still has work to do.”

He nods and says, “I promise, Ma.”

You pull Tim into your side, “I’m begging you Timmy, eat right, don’t spend so much time in front of a computer screen, and get at least five hours of sleep at night. Promise me, Timothy.”

“Yes mam, I promise.”

You kiss his cheek, “I love you, baby bird.”

You pull Damian into your lap, “This is not your fault lil’ bird.”

He interrupts you, “It was my mother who …”

You nod, “It was Talia, not you Damian. You, lil’ bird, have a good heart. And you’re following a good path. Stick to that path, be the hero that the world needs you to be. Promise me.”

He buries his face in your neck and says, “I promise.”

You look at your sons and say, “Let yourselves be loved, and please love others. Pain is a part of life, but it is only one small part. If you’re too focused on it, you miss the happy things.”

They each give you a smile before they each vanish, leaving only you and Bruce. You wait for him to speak, “I’m always left behind.”

You smile and say, “No, I’ll wait for you.” You climb into his lap and cherish the feeling of his arms wrapping around you for the last time, “In the meantime,  time I need you to live. Live the life I can’t. Be a father to our kids. Be there to tell Benjamin about me. Smile when you tell those stories. Be happy when you remember me Bruce Wayne, because I was always happy when I was with you.”

“Don’t leave me,” He pleads.

You can actually feel the tears streaming down your face now, “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave our boys. I want to leave our newest son. But we don’t get that choice Bruce. I need you to promise me that you’ll live. Take time to mourn, but please don’t let it consume you.”

You kiss him, and when you pull back you place your forehead against his, he holds you tight, “I promise.”

“Good, now make sure you still do Christmas big, and invite the League over for Thanksgiving, watch the fireworks on Fourth of July, have a picnic in the summer. Do fun things, Bruce, love life. For me.”

  He nods as you start to disappear, and says, “I promise. I love you.”

  You just smile and say, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you forever, as long as I’m me, my husband you’ll be.” And with that you begin to fade.

Bruce wakes with a start to find his boys surrounding his bed. Sitting up he notices Dick holding Benjamin, and holds out his arms for his youngest son. Dick hands him over without a complaint as the boys all climb on the bed. There are several moments of silence before Tim asks, “Did you see her too?”

“In the meadow?” He asks.

They all nod, and he just laughs, “She found a way to say goodbye.”

  “You really think it was her?” Damian asks.

Bruce smiles, “I wouldn’t put it past her, when it comes to her family nothing is impossible.”

Jason nods before holding out a book, “Alfred gave us this. He says Mom made it a few weeks ago.”

The title stares up at Bruce and he reads it out loud, “I’ll love you forever.”

He opens the cover and your voice comes out as it reads the first line, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like your for always, your mommy I’ll forever be.” And the last line finishes with, “I love you, my big bat and little Robins. Forever.”


AN: Not going to lie, I cried a bit as I wrote this.

Prompt: Batmom Dies

Friendly Reminder

That it isn’t only veterans with PTSD who are affected by fireworks, nor is it only ‘combat-related PTSD’. A great deal of people with PTSD have hyper vigilance and loud noises are not fun for that. Also a lot of people with anxiety or certain kinds of sensory processing disorder. It’s kind of grating on my nerves that everywhere is talking only about combat-related PTSD, as if that is the only kind of mental illness that deserves consideration.