Discover Top Posts Tagged with #dead dean

But today is Tuesday, too!

#supernatural #supernatural crack #spn season 3 #mystery spot #s3.11 #gabriel #spn dean winchester #samdean #dead dean #muppets #heat of the moment #bert and ernie

Here’s why I feel like such a dumbass clown and won’t be able to get any sleep tonight:

- QUEERBAIT MOTHERFUCKERS

- NO FUCKING DESTIEL BECAUSE THEYRE PUSSIESSSS

-NO FUCKING CAS BECAUSE THEY SUCKKKKKK

-DEAN FUCKING DYINGGGGGG

-SAMS CHEAP ASS WIG!!!!!!!!!

THIS ENTIRE FUCKING DUMBASS FINALE DIDN’T PLEASE ANYONE AT ALL. JUST MADE US FUCKING PISSED. 13 YEAR OLD FANFIC WRITER ME COULD’VE WROTE A BETTER ENDING.

#FUCK THIS SHOW #SPN #spnfinale #DESTIEL IS NOT CANON AND WAS NEVER CANON JUST QUEERBAIT #DEAD DEAN

And a side of Destiel for you

#spn #supernatural #spn fan #spn fandom #fandom #fan #dean #dean winchester #cas #castiel #dead dean #deancas #dean!cas #cas!dean #casdean #destiel #dead cas #dead!cas #love #romantic

Supernatural 03x11 - Mystery Spot

#spn #supernatural #Sam Winchester #Dead Dean #Dean Winchester

If Dean were (dead) dead

During the day, animals pranced through the small clearing, though there was one spot that they avoided. The dirt there was an uneven, grassless patch. A wooden cross stuck up from the ground. Tied around it was a small, golden amulet. This grave tended to have quite a few visitors. On some days, a woman with short, choppy hair and one with long blonde hair would visit, both in police uniforms, accompanied by a blonde teen. Sometimes a mother and son duo would visit. They never did stay long, but they always left flowers. Some days, around midnight, a short balding man would visit. He'd stand there, looking sullenly at the cross as he nursed a bottle of strong alcohol, remembering the times he had shared with his former best friend. The roar of an engine was heard around these parts often. The man would exit the car with a small cardboard box, looking like he was trying his hardest to keep it together, all while struggling for words. "Hey Dean." He'd say, his voice cracking. "I didn't forget the pie this time." Some days, he smiled sadly and left it at the base of the cross. On others he'd fall to his knees and sob, squishing the pie against his chest, resulting in quite the mess. There was just one more visitor. He'd sit cross legged in front of the grave marker, greeting it with two simple words. "Hello Dean." His face didn't relay any emotions, but he did look like a lost puppy. It always rained whenever he visited, so he came to the conclusion that the sky cried for him, so that he didn't have to. He'd stay for hours on end, sometimes in silence and sometimes a one-sided conversation. He never seemed to mind.