#dead!dean

[kirathehyrulian]

🖤🩸STEVANA PAIN EVENT🩸🖤| Day 6

↳ Sam and Loss of a Loved One♥♥♥

(Please do not edit/alter. Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost. At the very least please give me credit.)

@folsomprisonblues @trials-era-sam​

For more art from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr. Or my  “AO3“.

👇(Art Notes below the cut)👇

Art Notes:

It’s so completely late, but after I missed the deadline I just decided to take the time to clean it up and make it all finished looking for this one at least. It also helped that that the mods of the event didn’t seem to mind late entries. Hopefully that hasn’t changed after 11 days.🤞

I would have been done with this short comic earlier, but tbh it was hard for me to work on it because the subject was affecting me so much. I can torture Sam in a lot of bloody ways but I can’t handle the emotional angst as much lately.

Like the last few times I’d rather go into detail on Ao3 when I make that post. But, long story short, I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do for this theme until way too late. And then I remembered 2x04 where Sam buried John’s tags at Mary’s headstone, and then I figured maybe Sam might do the same with the Samulet.

And in 11x23, Dean said that he wanted his ashes buried at this grave site. But instead of his ashes, I thought the Samulet was more poetic and fit the theme that this was a family grave with no remains in it. It just has Mary’s headstone, John’s tags, and now the samulet. And, the samulet could be a representation of both Sam and Dean and thus the family is symbolically finally together again. Idk, it depends on how people want to take it.

The dialogue was a parallel to when Sam said “I love you, Mom” at Mary’s headstone in 2x04 after he buried his Dad’s tags and I like to think of it as a sort of reply to Dean saying he loved Sam in 15x20′s barn scene.

Anyways,

Enjoy, if you can!♥♥♥

[saventhhaven]

The Rescue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader (vaguely)

Tags: dead!Dean, worried!reader, witch, CPR

Word Count: 1,173

A/N: I apologize if my details for CPR are inaccurate, I did my best :)

(Gif not mine)

Rain poured down in thick sheets from menacing gray clouds. Had it not been for the fact that Dean had been in broad daylight less than half an hour ago, he would have sworn night had fallen. The storm darkened the rest of the world significantly as thunder crashed, and the unforgiving winds howled. Rain washed the blood from his hands and his gun, though it wasn't his own. Dean held his forearm above his eyes as he tried to keep the rain out of his face. Although he would never admit it out loud, he was lost, and this storm really wasn't helping him.

"Y/N!" He yelled the young woman's name into the void, but the storm's sounds immediately swallowed it. The two of them had split up when they followed the warlock into the woods, but Dean had quickly tracked him down and killed him. This raging tempest that kept increasing in intensity was a parting gift. Now that the hunt was over, Dean was anxious to find Y/N and get the hell home. He didn't know where she was, and the phone service was completely out. Wherever she was, he only hoped that she was having more luck.

"Y/N!" he yelled again. As Dean stepped over a fallen branch, pain suddenly flared up within him, and he clutched at his chest, groaning. "Y/N!" Her name came out as a panicked cry for help, far different from the tone he had been using when he was trying to find her. Dean fell to his knees, blinded by white light, though he couldn't tell if it was from the lightning anymore. Now, his only hope was her finding him. "Y/N!”

Thunder crashed above you noisily as you shoved your phone back into your pocket. There was no use in it becoming totally useless from the rain if you didn't even have service to call Dean.

"Dean!" Your voice was starting to go hoarse from how many times you had called out for him. The trees that surrounded you all looked the same, and you had no indication of where you were, much less where Dean might be. You hadn't heard from him since before the two of you split up, and you were starting to feel anxious. It was even worse that you had no way of knowing if Dean had taken care of the warlock. The gun in your hand trembled slightly as you continued to scan your surroundings as you moved North - or at least what you were hoping was North. The strong winds whipped your hair into your face, stinging your cheeks. This storm was unlike any you had encountered before, and it made your job a hell of a lot harder.

When brief flashes of lightning illuminated the forest around you, your eyes locked onto a heap about one hundred feet away, and your heart dropped into your stomach.

"Dean!" Water splashed up onto the ankles and shins of your jeans as you sprinted toward him. He was on his side, totally motionless and unresponsive. You rolled him onto his back, shaking him vigorously. "Hey! Hey!" He didn't seem to have any flesh wounds, but the fact that he wasn't waking you up was still more than enough reason for concern. When Dean still did nothing, you pressed your ear against his chest, listening for a heartbeat. Nothing. "No." You suddenly felt panic creep up, but you forced it back down. You were no help to either of you if you couldn't even think straight. "No, no, no!" Without a second's hesitation, you pinched his nose and tilted his chin up, pressing your mouth against his to force air back into his lungs. You rocked back on your heels to lace your fingers together and lock your elbows, beginning a steady rhythm of compressions on his chest.

As you tried desperately to revive him, you noticed a piece of cloth peeking out from his jacket pocket, revealed by you rolling him onto his back. You knew right away what the object was, and your movements faltered before coming to a stop - a hex bag.

"Shit!" you swore. You had left your lighter in the Impala, not knowing you would need it. If Dean didn't have one on him, it was all over, and you refused to let that happen. A world without Dean Winchester was a world you didn't want to live in. Moving frantically, you dug through the man's pockets, searching for the lighter that he usually carried with him. Thankfully, he did have it, and you yanked it free of his clothes, taking the small, cloth sack in one hand, and flicking your thumb over the lighter with the other. The rain continued to pour down on the two of you as you struggled to set fire to the hex bag. This was an impossible task, and panic threatened to overtake you again.

As your breathing began to come faster, you forced yourself to slow your heart rate and think clearly. What would Dean do? The second the question came into your mind, you knew what you had to do. Likely, the reason Dean was in this state in the first place was the small canvas bag you had in your hand. Before you did anything else, you had to burn it and pray he would wake up. You held the object behind your jacket, shielding it from the unforgiving rain and winds. Over the open flame of your lighter, it took the damp canvas a few moments to dry out enough to catch, but it finally did.

With the offending curse broken, you threw the hex bag to the side, watching Dean hopefully. When his chest still didn't rise or fall, you shook your head frantically.

"No!" you exclaimed to yourself as tears rose up in your eyes. "That should've worked!" You were totally out of ideas as you pressed your mouth over his again. The only thing left to do was try more chest compressions, but if this didn't work... You were trying hard not to think about it. "Come on," you said to Dean, although you knew he couldn't actually hear you. "Come on!” Dean's eyes flew open, and raindrops trickled down his face as he sat up, coughing and gasping for breath. You let out a relieved sob and threw your arms around him, still not quite able to believe that you had just saved his life.

"Y/N?" he asked over the howl of the wind.

"Don't you ever do that again!" you scolded. "You scared the fuck out of me!" Dean's hands came up to rub soothing circles on your arms, where they rested around his shoulders. "I thought I lost you." Dean pulled back to look at you.

"You're gonna have to try harder than that to lose me, babe." You smacked him in the arm, mostly with a playful nature, but still a little harder than you intended. "Ow!"

"Let's just get the hell out of here."

Thanks so much for reading!

Like always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox are in my bio! <3

My Everythings:

@cole-winchester​ @alexwinchester23​ @1-am-made-of-stardust​ @thorukindig​ @fiftyshadesoffandom6783​ @hobby27​ @supernaturalenchanted​ @organicpurplepants​ @odysseyofasiren​ @defenderrosetyler​ @crystal-lilac​ @youshrimpdickfucknugget​

Dean Darlings: @calaofnoldor​ @transparentfestivaltiger​

[dailywincestspam]

[spn-idjits-guide-to-hunting]

9x23 “Do You Believe In Miracles?”

[casadefreewill]

So this is the result of a mix of Love Nikki event outfits and discord musings.

We have Soul Guide Castiel leading Dean’s Soul to the afterlife.

yup …

Hey @blubunn, @soluscheese, i did it! now to get back to that comic.

[kirathehyrulian]

Nine Inch Rebar - "Party City Wig"

-fake SPN Parody- 🎶(sung to the music of Juke Box Hero- Foreigner)🎶

[Verse 1] Sitting in the seat, with his head hung low Couldn't forget his bro, it was a two man show Heard the roar of the car, he could picture the scene Put his hands on the wheel, then like a distant dream He heard one Sammy, just blew him away He saw Dean in his mind, and could picture him say

You’ve done good Baby Bro, just a handful years more Didn't know how he’d do it, but he knew for sure The impala felt good in his hands Didn't take long to understand Just one lifetime, can’t make life throw It’s a one way ticket, to a one way road

[Chorus] So he kept on livin’ He is never going to quit Got to keep on livin’ Someday they’ll met again if his death permits

He’s going Party City, got gray in his wig He’s gone Party City He’ll keep on fighting, (Party City, gray in his wig) Party City, (Party City), he'll stay alive tonight, (gray in his wig)

[Verse 2] In a town without a name, he lived threescore Thought he saw Dean's own shadow, by the parlor's door Like a trip through the past, to that day in the car And that one daydream which got him this far

[Chorus] Now he needs to keep on livin' He just can't stop Gotta keep on livin' Sammy has got to stay on top

He’s going Party City, got gray in his wig He's gone Party City, (got gray in his wig) He’s going Party City, (got gray in his wig) He’ll keep on fighting, (got gray in his wig) He'll stay alive tonight woah

[Guitar Solo]

[Chorus] Yeah, he's gotta keep on livin' Never gonna quit Gotta keep on livin' Sammy has got to stay on top He’s going Party City, got gray in his wig He's gone Party City Yeah Party City, got gray in his wig Party City, ahh Party City, ahh Party City, got gray in his wig Gray in his wig

Look out for NIR’s other original hit songs: “Just Us, Finally Free” • "Hypno Tits" • “Steel Lats” • “ILYSMMBB” • “Domestic Bunker” • “Blurry Wife” • “Baby In Paradise” • “Meet You on the Bridge” • “Now It’s Perfect”

[spn-idjits-guide-to-hunting]

[mishas-bottom]

(I wrote again today, and it’s really angsty, I think. I really like the idea of Depressed!Cas I’m sorry. I hope you like it, anyways. I haven’t spent much time on it. :))

Pale, drawn-on faces passed by him, one by one. All with the same words, all in the same suits, dresses, nothing had definition.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” most of the said. The rare change in the condolences only came from the closest of family; Sam.

“I know how much he meant to you, Cas. I’m sorry-” his voice had a crack in it. He grabbed Cas’ hand. “I’m sorry for both of us.” His words slipped in and out of Cas’ head just as the others did. He only stared into the distance, shaking hands when invited to, and nodding when people nodded at him.

Sam held onto his hand, waiting for a reply. Cas tilted his head down only slightly, not even taking the effort to look into Sam’s eyes. “I’m sorry, too,” His gruff voice was broken, shattered from hours of crying the night before; that morning. His eyes brimmed with tears again as the words fell out of his mouth.

He turned away from the crowd—most of whom were seated now—and walked to the casket behind him. He looked over the face of the man he had loved for years of his life; Dean Winchester. His face was painted with makeup and he was dressed beautifully for the occasion. He could’ve just been sleeping, but Cas knew all too well—he wasn’t. Tears made salty streams down his cheeks, into the week old stubble on his cheeks. He held his fingers to Dean’s forehead, rubbed his head, felt his long-since-ceased pulse, hoping for maybe one moment he would be able to fix him. To bring him back.

“Please, please, Dean. You can’t be gone, you can’t, you can’t—” the sobbing clawed at his throat as he pleaded. No one came to stop him, some started to cry themselves.

You’re not gone, you’re not, you can’t be gone, it’s too soon, the thoughts flooded his head. I love you, I love you, he brought his face down to Dean’s, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his mouth. He tasted the salt of his tears that had dripped onto Dean. He felt the stares of the audience, like daggers in his back. Five minutes passed of this, and Sam finally came behind him, trying to pull him away. “Cas, please, he’s—he’s not coming back. We’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. Cas,” he had stopped pulling him away, Cas turned by himself, away from the body.

“You’re…you’re right, I hope. Thank you, Sam,” he faked a smile, which melted into a flat line in the same moment. His eyes were red rimmed, but he stopped crying. His voice was still weak. “I’ll…I’ll go sit down.” He said quietly, taking a seat near the center of the aisle. A minister came to the podium as Sam sat down beside him.

”A righteous man before God, Dean Winchester hath made a place in all of our lives, as a man of pure intention, and in the presence of the Lord, blessed be his soul. Now, if you would all stand…”