#rosten bolt

[solaneceae]

the sillies.

art par @paperbaghero

[thewhitesaint]

"Almost home, Alan." Jim claps you too hard on the back. The forest around you warps and shifts. It looks like Vietnam, but you know you're in town. The town's close by, just over the hill. Carrie and Wyatt are waiting for you there. And then the enemy is there, in front of you, and you feel the bullets sinking slow into the meat of your chest, into your lungs, and you taste the metal, and your mother is screaming.

He sits bolt upright with a yell, acrid sweat prickling his back. Rosten claws at his eyepatch, whimpering as the light floods his bad eye——and then Stone is squeezing his shoulder, growling something steady and blurry with sleep, and Rosten can’t make out a word of it.

[cxttonteethviolence-a]

@thewhitesaint @deviloutofhell

Rumor had spread about two Order members from Maine making their way through Texas, but no one seemed to feel it fit to tell Wyatt about this as he found himself hit with an immediate instinct of flight vs. fight, catching a glimpse of both Jim Stone and Father Rosten making their way through the isle of local convenience store, and Wyatt half running into a rickety shelf of chips in an attempt to bolt the exact opposite direction. 

[solaneceae]

étude d'expressions pour la creatura. little freak of a man.

+bonus sketch de recherche parce qu'ils me terminent lmao y'a pas UNE seule pensée derrière ces yeux

art par @ullenska sur twitter

[solaneceae]

le bolt man!!!! et le plus grand fanboy de walker espace ranger sans doute

art par mon ami attentialkane sur twitter

[solaneceae]

ptit lineup de mes designs pour cette bande d'abrutis dans l'espace. oui c'est bien des pantoufles aux pieds de rosten.

art par r_sunblade sur twitter

[thewhitesaint]

☕

Rosten shot bolt upright, groping round for something under the loveseat cushions, as Wyatt’s shadow crossed him.With a weak little laugh he sank back.“Never gonna stop doing that.”He’d dozed off the night before without undressing. His Crimson Tome lay to hand on the kitchenette counter.Rosten peeled off his eyepatch, blinking and wincing at the light. Disheveled, his hair sticking out at odd angles, he looked somehow reduced. Human.“Make me a coffee. Black. What’s the time?”