rottenache

[rottenache]

in the mood for more romantic settings, so like this for either a starter, memes, or things that are shippy centered <3

[rottenache]

in the mood for more romantic settings, so like this for either a starter, memes, or things that are shippy centered <3

[rottenache]

MADISON BAILEY via tiktok

[rottenache]

CLAUDIA DOUMIT as VICTORIA NEUMAN THE BOYS | Season 4, Episode 5 "Beware the Jabberwock, My Son"

[rottenache]

[DISBELIEF]: after the receiver has done something completely unexpected (and reckless) the stunned sender cups their face in their hands while trying to get them to explain why the hell they did it. ( for will )

he's sure that he can see the dirt that is caked to his cheek, the sweat on his brow, and the shovel in his hand. there's a clench to his jaw, a glint that takes over his eyes, the same one that he has seen his mother channel within herself many times before as the only parent under their roof. the weight that comes with the responsibility, to look out for his siblings and to know that it is on him now. he had one soul, he could only bring one of them back.

and his choice was simple. easy. it's the part of the siblings that was missing since the moment that she, and their mother, took their last breath. it's always been the harvelle siblings against the world, always looking out for each other, only ever really having each other as friends when they lived away from everyone. there's also a sense of resentment that bleeds into the harvelle sibling whenever he meet those who doesn't know about what lurks in the night, envy hot in his veins; which is why he was never really able to find friends outside of the traveling soldiers who came through the roadhouse. or whatever is left of it now.

"get a shovel," william tells him lowly, timbre rough like it's running across gravel. there's exhaustion that clings to his bones, and he doesn't phase when wallace grabs his face, demanding answers, desperate and clawing and readying himself for the answer. but william doesn't have the heart to tell him; that he sold his soul. that the dirt underneath his fingernails are not just from the crossroad, but now his grave as well, in five years time. "we need to unbury jo before she runs out of air." and he doesn't dwell on the fact that just earlier, that morning, he and wallace were speaking of their sister in the past tense.

[rottenache]

[GROUND]: during a moment of intense emotional stress, the sender gently takes the receiver's face in their hands to ground them until they're calmer again. / to odessa; and it could go either way as evan might do it to calm himself

the prophet is coming undone. evan crosses the space between them in two quick strides, gait scrapes over dirt and broken glass beneath, and soon he's within a baited breath away from her before something divine and dangerous swallows her whole. she hears the rough and low rasp of his voice, and feels his hands come up slowly to her face, like he's tending to a wounded animal, or worse, someone too human to survive their own grace.

her breath shudders through her nose, her mouth parted like she might say something if she could, if she ever could, and the raw ache of it cleaves through her like a blade. evan's hands frame her face, present and a tether in the dark. he pulls her from her own wreckage, the undoing of her powers, and it calms the raging storm that remains trapped in the cage of her ribs. her eyes no longer glow with the barely there hint of blue from the grace of her prophecy. instead of seeing the destruction of those she cares about, she sees evan in front of her, holding her; breathing with her. alive.

her hands reaches out for him, wrapping around him with adrenaline she hasn't tasted in a long time. not since her own father was unable to make it out of the wreckage. her fingers wrap fists into the fabric of his shirt, finding solace in the way that he smells, anchoring her to reality, instead of whatever it is that plagues her. peeling back, odessa scans evan's features, ensuring that in the storm of her own emotions, she didn't accidentally do something. with a sigh of relief, she puts a knuckle to her chest, and makes a circle, signing to him seldomly: i'm sorry.

[rottenache]

she was waiting for the bomb. dean winchester was ticking, a dam straining to break; ready to flood and drown beneath the waves if he wasn't too damn stubborn. ruby watches him with dangerous calculation, like she's ready for him to leap across the table with that knife if he wanted to. "good thing i don't care about what you think," ruby offers, sarcasm dripping from her timbre, terse and warning. he should tread carefully. she can hear his heart beating, the steady thrum of a soldier at war who knows that he belongs there than at home. he's calm under danger, and if she didn't hate him, she'd almost respect it. "if you kill me, how d'ya think your brother is gonna feel, hm?"

                        ──────────────                        narrowed gaze remains fixated on @rottenache as knife scrapes against the stake ,    lips purse as the silver catches in the chiseled wood ,    heavy sigh escapes him before both are tossed onto the battered table in front of him .                “    i still don’t get why y’er helpin’ us .    ”                words are a quiet grunt ,    but dean knows that ruby can hear him .    dean was far too smart to hide his skepticism ,    wasn’t sure how his brother could continue to be so reckless .                “    you can tell sam all this bs about wantin’ to help ,    вυт ι кησω уσυ gσт ѕσмє υℓтєяισя мσтινє .    ”

♥’d

[rottenache]

he's not surprised to find his daughter revolt at his touch, knowing that weight of what he is, his history, can be suffocating. "no, i can't blame you, love," he sighs out passively, wiping away at her arm now, her wrist, anywhere that showed evidence of sanguine, of the war that plagued her; of people who marred her. anger continues to swell hot in his stomach, remembering that some of them got away. not for long, he thinks; and he finally pulls away from her with a calamity that should otherwise be unnerving. he's careful with his movements, precise; with a cat like grace that only those who are aware of how powerful they are would have. "it's not necessarily you i was looking for," he murmurs out, something dangerous and calculating wrapping like silk around his timbre. "you don't recall who those bad, awful men were, do you?"

the darkness that was inside of delaney roared with life as it always did whenever her father was near. their energies being so close like a super charge. if looks could kill, lucifer would surely be right back in his cage in hell again where he belonged in the first place. she flinched away from him when he cleaned up her face. the nephilim didn't like it. didn't want him to finally act like a father. he wasn't dean or sam, he wasn't uncle bobby. god, she couldn't even shimmy herself back because she had no energy to do it. "after everything else you've done, can you blame me?" she spat him, eyes remaining black now as the demon side won out. her very mother's essence raging a war against the angel side that had been hurt. "greater demons, i guess. they sure seemed like they worked for you. you were looking for me? well, you found me."

[rottenache]

odessa rolls her eyes when she hears bj immediately hurl the words back at himself once more; shaking her head to show that she did not feel that he brought the mood down. working as a bartender for most of her adult life has taught her how to deal with sorrow, especially those that aren't her own. far too often, drunk folks will speak of their own demons, but without the black smoke that seems to swallow their throat whenever they are possessed. they talk of their own guilt, their own crimes; their own undoing. odessa has learned how to take on the weight without letting it drown her; because it wasn't hers to bear. but when it came to bj, there's a part of her that wishes that she can placate the guilt that seems to swell inside of them whenever they remember what they are. she squints her eyes at the other, an idea forming in her head, as she scribbles down a question: can you shapeshift into anybody? anybody in the world?

bj  always  felt  as  if  they  were  always  going  to  be  a  monster.  despite  all  the  good  they  tried  to  do,  but  always  left  with  a  reminder  that  they  are  not  who  they  wanted  to  be.  human.  though,  watching  as  odessa  scribbled,  they  patiently  waited  until  it  was  pushed  in  front  of  them.  they  didn't  know  what  it  was  about  seeing  it  in  writing,  but  it  did  cause  the  shifter  to  smile.  “i  try..  thank  you.”  they  responded.  “i  brought  the  mood  down  again,  didn't  i?”

[rottenache]

"something like that," matías offers, a barely there smile that pulls on the corner of his brims. it's been a while since he has been in the game, since before his time in hell. since then, he has taken a much needed back step; only dipping his toes in time of emergencies or whenever a fellow hunter needs their clearance confirmed by authority. or even the occasional lore finder for the out of ordinary creatures that pulls themselves from the pages of some leather-bound book tucked in a library in the very town that they are at. "i guess soldiers recognize each other, even outside of uniform, huh?"

hunter.  alright,  that  was  her  signal  to  lower  her  gun.  but  still  held  out.  couldn't  be  too  careful,  right?  “yeah,  i  know  of  hunters.  help  them  out  from  time  to  time.  you  one?”  brow  raised.  almost  studying  the  man  that  stood  in  front  of  her.

[rottenache]

lucifer presses a hand to his cheek, as though he was simply listening to a discussion, or seminar, rather than seeing his daughter writhing in pain in front of him. she speaks with venom wrapped around her tongue; good, he thinks to himself. he hoped that she was sharp edges and war humming alight beneath her skin; it would better help her eventually transition to the darkness that is etched into her marrow. "you must think i'm some kind of cruel man," and he reaches a hand out to her, thumbing away the speckle of blood that paints her cheek. "to hurt my own daughter like this." he all but growls when his gaze flits over the blossom of purple of bruises against her limbs, and there's a different sort of anger that tethers itself to him. one that he hasn't known the taste of in many decades. he curls a hand around his mouth to disguise the seething anger that brims beneath the surface, though she may not believe him; there's an itch of protective instinct that seems to curl forth from the man. "so it was demons?" he asks again, to confirm. he can find the specifics later.

@rottenache asked: “ who did this to you ? ” from lucifer

delaney's eyes flickered between demon black and her normal green. the demon side of her trying to heal the wound from the angel blade, but it was useless. she was weakened and dropped on her knees. probably exactly how her father planned it to be. her gaze lifted up to his, staring into the face of the man she wanted to tear apart. who has made her, sam and dean's life a living hell. "as if you didn't plan this," she grit out to him, hand pressing to the wound on her side. doing everything in her power to not show the pain she was in. she would never show her father weakness. "don't act like this wasn't you or your lackies' doing."

[rottenache]

scott smug miller

[rottenache]

"alright, wait," matías urges, hands shooting out in front of him to signal that he doesn't mean harm; just that he has noticed her too. "look, it seems that we both may be working on the same case. do the words hunter mean anything to you?"

new muse cassie robinson private detective

open starter. okay,  she's  had  enough  with  being  followed.  turning  around,  she  pulled  her  gun  out  in  protection  before  calling  out.  “i'll  give  you  three  seconds  to  come  out  from  where  you're  hiding.”

[rottenache]

there's a barely there wrinkle that takes root between furrowed brows when odessa looks to the other, seeing the guilt of what they are bleed over bj's features; evidence of their own inner turmoil, a storm of emotions that casts over them. odessa so badly wants to reach out, and hold their hand, and tell them that they aren't a monster. monsters are created from the acts of cruelty, not from who you are. instead of vocally telling them, odessa grabs a sheet of paper and quickly scribbles down with a pen: you already do so much good.

bobby john shapeshifter

open starter. “sometimes  i  forget  what  i  am  until  i  end  up  touching  silver.”  they  couldn't  help  but  snort  slightly  before  letting  out  a  breath,  “it  sucks,  but  you  know..  i'm  doing  the  best  i  can  with  what  i  can  work  with.  i've  been  getting  better  at  hunting  and  saving  people.  that's  good,  right?”  more  so  they  wanted  to  ask  if  they  were  still  seen  as  a  monster.

[rottenache]

Lilly you’re so talented, ilu

me anytime i see you anywhere <3 I LOVE U SM THAAAANK YOUUUUUUUUUUU

[rottenache]

bruna marquezine as catarina de lurton in deus salve o rei (2018)

[rottenache]

hi (say hi back)