Reclaiming my geek
death-the-pale-horseman:

jaackles:

tardis-mind-palace:

chainedtoacomet:

When Dean Winchester finally dies (for good, this time), Death takes a holiday. 
He spends a week going to every fair and carnival in the continental US.
He eats every deep fried concoction possible.
When his holiday comes to an end, he goes to Heaven and knocks on the pearly gates with the head of his cane. He asks to speak with Dean Winchester.
Dean is surprised to find Death there when the angels bring him forward. Death swore that their last meeting, when Death personally escorted Dean’s soul to Heaven, would be the final time they ever saw one another.
“I found it,” Death tells him. “The perfect pie. It was in Muncie, Indiana. Apple, with a flaky, golden crust. The ratio of cinnamon to sugar and its balance with the tart Granny Smith…. it was just perfect. Divine, even.”
Dean stares at Death, unsure of why he is telling him this, but then he looks down. In Death’s hand is a wrinkled, white paper bag. Inside the bag is a slice of the perfect pie.
Dean takes the bag, mystified.
“Thanks for the pickle chips that time,” Death says, then disappears into the void.

did you just give me Death/Dean bromance feels

#And Dean turns back and walks back into the gates#He treks up an inclined road until it flattens and curves around#When he reaches his heaven Dean raises a free hand above his head and yells #’SAM#CAS #LOOKIT! PIE!’ (x)

death-the-pale-horseman:

jaackles:

tardis-mind-palace:

chainedtoacomet:

When Dean Winchester finally dies (for good, this time), Death takes a holiday. 

He spends a week going to every fair and carnival in the continental US.

He eats every deep fried concoction possible.

When his holiday comes to an end, he goes to Heaven and knocks on the pearly gates with the head of his cane. He asks to speak with Dean Winchester.

Dean is surprised to find Death there when the angels bring him forward. Death swore that their last meeting, when Death personally escorted Dean’s soul to Heaven, would be the final time they ever saw one another.

“I found it,” Death tells him. “The perfect pie. It was in Muncie, Indiana. Apple, with a flaky, golden crust. The ratio of cinnamon to sugar and its balance with the tart Granny Smith…. it was just perfect. Divine, even.”

Dean stares at Death, unsure of why he is telling him this, but then he looks down. In Death’s hand is a wrinkled, white paper bag. Inside the bag is a slice of the perfect pie.

Dean takes the bag, mystified.

“Thanks for the pickle chips that time,” Death says, then disappears into the void.

did you just give me Death/Dean bromance feels

   (x)

image

awesomephilia:

i’m not sure if my body can handle much more of this “getting out of bed” nonsense

swans-glasses:

Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division?

More like,

Shit Hydra Is Everywhere, Lock Down.

tastefullyoffensive:

[guynamedgriffin]
doublenegativemeansyes:

photobomb??
ibelieveingallifrey:

winterblazes:

combat-honey:

The Worindlve

Played by Human GhJack

i can’t fucksing stop laughinb

I’ve done this job before. Honestly, you really have to phone it in to screw it up like this.

ibelieveingallifrey:

winterblazes:

combat-honey:

The Worindlve

Played by Human GhJack

i can’t fucksing stop laughinb

I’ve done this job before. Honestly, you really have to phone it in to screw it up like this.

turnblrbot:

do you ever wanna hug someone so badly your chest aches

I met my wife at a Star Trek convention. She was study abroad from France and spoke little English, and I didn’t know a lick of French. So, for the first few months of our relationship, we communicated by speaking Klingon.

Hear more tales of nerdery in this week’s Pwn Up! (via dorkly)

Okay I’m not even a Star Trek fan but that’s beautiful.

(via tchy)