#iimmundus

[apiamater-archive]

m ARTA IM TRYING TO LIVE MY LIFE I CAN'T BE DISTRACTED BY THINGS LIKE DEAN CALLING LISA HONEY

i know, honey, i know

[coalfeathered]

@iimmundus liked the thing for a thing      

               He’d deny being HUFFY to his dying breath, but honestly... clothes unironed, hair fluffy, blanket rippling about him like a princely, velveteen cape, in a photograph he would be the definition. It’s was almost cinematic, the way he thundered into the room and PRICKLED when he saw long pendulum legs drooping over the end of the couch. He knew it. 

                                ❛  Sam.  ❜

                Guilt, an ache easily identified now, niggled at him and he fixed his coat the way he’d prune a ruffled feather. Of course, he was reluctant to wake him, but he was more reluctant to intrude into his mind as a means of apologizing for falling asleep on his bed after Netflix made too good a lullaby. So he continued; governed to keep from frightening him, but with enough authority to wake the Winchester up. 

                               ❛  Sam, you should’ve woken me. Or at least sought out my room.  ❜ 

                —My room. It sounded peculiar, when he once had a universe... GALAXIES to recline upon. 

                              ❛  You do not need my permission...  ❜

[bloodbrcther]

@iimmundus liked for a starter - not accepting !!

           ❛ you know, I don’t know why              you don’t like me. I’m cute.

[disgrvce-blog]

@iimmundus

       light feet tread behind the lengthy brunette, perhaps too silently for mortal ears to detect. 

        ❛ ― sam. i brought you peaches. you were dreaming of them last night.

[fromsalvation-archive-blog]

why are you all trying to hurt me

[sonuva--bitch]

... Can I kiss you?

Dean's head is propped against the back of the couch & his arms are crossed loosely over his chest. His feet are kicked up on the coffee table, but his knee is still pressed against his brother's - has been for the past half hour, ever since Sam edged in a little closer. He's tired; tired of today, tired of this movie, and tired of their motel room's godawful wallpaper. Their latest hunt wasn't an easy one, and proof of its unexpected difficulty is written all over Dean's face in the stubble across his jaw, and in the bags under his eyes, and in the droop of his spiked hair.

When Sam asks his question, Dean conjures up the energy to roll his head to the side & look at him. Sam looks as sincere as he does dead serious, and he draws a lazy grin to Dean’s face.

                 ❝ You're such a prude, Sammy. ❞    

He mumbles, sounding like he's spent the past hour & a half nodding off - which, to be honest, he has; but he's also spent that hour & a half wondering when his shy little brother was gonna man up & make a move.  

              ❝ Lay one on me. ❞    

He continues, smiling just barely, and tips his head back so Sam doesn't have to crane his neck as much when he (finally) follows through.