Rot_n_ruin

A green apple covered in black caramel, dripping in the shape of a skull. The apple sits in front of a purple mist.



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

    What is—?

    He’s…

    He’s awake. He’s upright. The fire splitting his spine is entirely gone. Instead there’s a fist pressed against his chest nearly hard enough to bruise, keeping him pinned to the wall behind him.

    And Leon Kennedy is glaring at him, eyes angry and distrusting—and cold, that’s the strange thing. Cold, as if Luis didn’t take his last breath before those very same eyes not thirty seconds ago.

    (Or: Luis, in a time loop.)

    Translation available in 中文-普通话 國語!

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    13 May 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Sam is still looking at him expectantly, waiting for his translation, and Castiel stares blankly at the tablet for a moment, contemplating his situation. He’d like to phrase this delicately, but he’s painfully aware of just how much that is not his strong suit. All he can manage is a grimace before Sam catches the scent of impending disaster and begins to fidget.

    “What is it?”

    “Well,” Castiel replies, mind going unhelpfully and uncharacteristically blank as his body temperature continues to rise and his insides begin to feel sort of funny. “We need to have sex or we’re going to die.”

    ...

    OR-- Sam and Cas find themselves in your typical, run of the mill, fuck or die scenario. They fuck, they don't die, and then (as if that wasn't enough) they must do their best to hide this all from an increasingly suspicious Dean.

    [Not a Sastiel fic; Destiel centric]

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    12 Apr 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 52

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         It felt like hours that he made Robert wait there, on his knees at the foot of the bed. Bound, blind, and achingly hard. He hadn't managed to hang on to his composure long, after Vahid had walked away, leaving the ghost of warmth in his wake. Robert strained, trying to hear what he was doing, trying to mentally map where he must be from the sound of his soft footsteps. 

     

         'By the dresser. Past the dresser. Off the carpet, I can hear his feet on the tile. What's he doing in the kitchen? Is that the game tonight, to make me wait?'

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    20 Jan 2026