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@diseasedgrace
･ ｡ﾟ*.·✦ PINNED. independent writing space for TABITHA ROSE of ROTTEN SAINTS. original lore and canon based. highly selective and low activity. a study in: saints as a concept, god feels rage too, mortals as a vessel for something unknown, goodness is nothing humans can truly judge
est. in 2017 as viciousaint, periodically resurrected over the years since. scripted by acid. 18+. law. doc. playlist. pinterest.
𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖔𝖋 𝖏𝖊𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖘 / independent multimuse ft. stella harvenheit of moriyama daisuke’s chrono crusade. video game and animanga centric, canon and original characters alike. 18+. scripted by acid.
so who is going to make me write on here and just remind me of my blogs in general
It is forbidden under penalty of eternal damnation for priests, about to administer the sacraments, either to take the smoke of sayri, or tobacco, into the mouth, or the powder of tobacco into the nose, even under the guise of medicine, before the service of the mass.
･ ｡ﾟ*.·✦ @crxstallium / lyric based one liner.
“and the dark is running after you, I swear it, the dark is after you...”
EVERY TIME I CLOSE MY EYES I WAKE UP FEELIN’ SO HOR- [Don’t even think about finishing that sentence]
enstars verse for tabitha but she’s posing as the new hired on site nun cause some of these kids need Something to even them out
･ ｡ﾟ*.·✦ @vaevictise / lyric based one liner.
“trying to be ruthless, in the face of beauty. in this matrix, it's plain to see it's either you or them.”
･ ｡ﾟ*.·✦ @mellodiies / lyric based one liner.
“staring back from the mirror’s a face you don’t recognize. it’s a loser, a sinner.”
･ ｡ﾟ*.·✦ @yaanmaoh / lyric one liner.
“all it takes is one decision. a lot of guts, a little vision to wave your worries and cares goodbye.”
i’m listening to my most obnoxious fave maybe hit me up for a lyric based one liner.
one thing you’ll notice on here is that i often talk of dynamics with tabitha in a very familial / platonic way cause she canonly uses others younger than herself and that she views as soft as replacements for the baby sister who shuns her and she just has an easier time maintaining some semblance of a healthy relation with others when it’s of a platonic nature. romance with her is.....[several scenes of blood kinks and death threats flash by] A Trip
indeath·:
@diseasedgrace. — “ that’s quite a scratch you’ve got there. ”
nour laughs, feels it gargle in his throat, iron and sweet and worth choking on. a cough, a gag. he leans and spits out rubies and bile, fat and dark, near black and coagulating and chunked with tissue. but this body is unrepentant in its doggedness, unrelentingly held together by thin strands of sinew and frayed muscle. a scratch. a gutting : a lung torn and welling with blood, punctured by crushed ribs and below, a spilling of entrails like gems. lucky that the dead don’t breath, luckier that the pain flits like a spark along his nerves, like a shiver in his torn stomach. there’s a crack in his rib, muscle pulling shattered pieces into place like fingers wrapping around the bone. he straightens, discards the overflow of belly with a wet tear. healing is easier when it’s all inside.
‘ i met a pup today, ’ he gestures, flippant. the joint of his little finger doesn’t move. and with a snap he pushes back into place. wolf, he means. the kind that shows face during full moons and buries it’s snout in the sickly prey it finds and tears open bones like twigs under it’s claws. ‘ playful little thing. ’
eyes of emerald linger on the vile shine of forsaken gore, torn and leaking sacred life upon the floor, sight stirring little more than the disdain one feels when looking at wet rags discarded carelessly. his state is a sorry one belonging on the pages of some scripted gore fest, natural beauty sullied by an abundance of signs of body stressed and haggard. she could make fun of his worn state, almost does, but refrains from such, choosing to save childlike insults for another day.
instead she steps forth, reaching for nour’s face with gloved hand, cupping cheek softly. despised as the flames are that rest within her chest, they have their uses in providing a comfortable warmth emanating from slender hand. “did you have fun? have you found the cold kiss of death yet?” she jests like some lame comedian. all while looking like the definition of a saint and a mother from faded murals hidden in lost chapels. one could have much to say about coddling sinner locked from life and death. all but unaware how similar the bleeding and the bloodied are.
･ ｡ﾟ*.·✦ cont. / @destructivour
even the slightest tear of skin stings, fine point of claw clearly felt below fine chin. all it does is make a smile crack along her face like the fine line of a pantomime’s own mocking grin. heedless of the threat he offered and posed, a sense of self preservation turned to ash the day heaven’s anger took root in dead heart. “perhaps not a home, but clearly someone to teach you manners.” she could move aside or flick his bothersome claw away, but tabitha found more entertainment in amusing the man’s violence. “you’re welcome to inflict all the pain you’d like, ‘fraid it won’t amount to much though.”
sometimes i wanna integrate more mexican habits / influences into tabitha’s character but then i think on it for a sec and realize i can’t really cause theres several layers of trauma inflicted by colonizers in her history and just sit here like. give her american chocolate and she’ll spit it out same with coca cola
dexter starters ( showtime’s dexter s2ep2.)
“ i finally get a chance to kill and i can’t do it.”
“ and now all my secrets are floating to the surface.”
“ how did i lose it? how do i find it again?”
“ how can i solve a crime when i can’t even solve what’s wrong with me?”
“ has a nice ring to it, no?”
“ last thing ___ needs is another serial killer.”
“ why don’t you take a picture? it’ll last longer.”
“ what would i do without you?”
“ grandma really talks like that?”
“ you get the point. right, bitch?”
“ fucking people don’t want our help.”
“ this stuff never gets to you?”
“ i’m more of a cry on the inside kinda guy.”
“ what? i’m so over that.”
“ just… prove it to me.”
“ it’s like you’re just fucking with me.”
“ couldn’t pick a worse time, right?”
“ hey, how about you take off? let me handle this.”
“ i couldn’t let you do that.”
“ i owe you.”
“ i can’t even go there.”
“ this one’s on us, man.”
“ i have to focus. tune everything out.”
“ timing could be better.”
“ … oh. it’s you.”
“ who else you got following you?”
“ go ahead. try it. i’ve been waitin’.”
“ this neighborhood? it’s full of crazies. i’d lock my doors.”
“ bathroom’s all yours.”
“ we ran outta glasses?”
“ come on, give it a chance.”
“ sweetie, what’s the matter?”
“ what kind of weird?”
“ no. no, calm was what i was 35 minutes ago. pissed is what i am now.”
“ hey! who want’s eggos? i got blueberry, or chocolate. or both.”
“ assholes! they did everything but help.”
“ which assholes were you talking to?”
“ i didn’t ask for your help, or your advice.”
“ i’ll never understand how people deal with death. why they can’t just… put it in it’s place.”
“ not exactly ideal in the element of surprise department.”
“ i have to find a new way to dispose of the body.”
“ you totally douched me in there.”
“ you clocked a guy in a bar who touched your arm…“
“ well, thank you for the fucking vote of confidence.”
“ hey. just visualize that door of opportunity opening up wide for you, bro, and just walk right through it.”
“ you keep up with this woo-woo shit, imma walk right through you.”
“ that come with a story?”
“ well, you should be more careful, amigo.”
“ they had to bring in outside talent. which would be moi.”
“ bet this guy never expected his work to see in the light of day.”
“ i bet you’re right.”
“ still, it can’t be easy to hide a body nowadays.”
“ you shittin’ me?”
“ hypothetical: how do you make sure disposed body stay disposed?”
“ don’t all those run the risk of contact with the outside world?”
“ you got a better idea?”
“ there is no such thing as the perfect crime. not in my experience, anyway.”
“ well, we have something in common.”
“ miss me?”
“ i need to clear the decks… and my head.”
“ they, uh… ate my puppy.”
“ you may have to get closer than you like.”
“ i’m doin’ enough damage on my own.”
“ that was a yes. sounded like a no, but… yeah.”
“ you scared the shit outta me.”
“ how you doin’?”
“ don’t! you fuckin’ asked… so, how am i doing? i’m just fine.”
“ come on, don’t get the shakes now. this is no time for performance anxiety.”
“ i’ve been waitin’ for you.”
“ come out, come out, wherever you are!”
“ what the hell is wrong with me?”
“ it’s okay, i got you.”
“ don’t leave me! please, don’t leave me!”
“ want me to knock out some doors? or maybe some heads?”
“ what fucking asshole left this here?”
“ it’s ‘special agent’ fucking asshole.”
“ frankly, you’re more of a leader than a team-player.”
“ i’m not convinced you play well with others.”
“ i feel like a jigsaw-puzzle missing a piece.”
“ i’ve been calling you for hours.”
“ i kinda pulled an all nighter.”
“ it’s, uh… it’s taking me to places i never thought i’d go.”
“ he was such a destructive force. why can’t you just put him behind you?”
“ i’m just gonna make you late.”
“ dammit, ___! i need you there too.”
“ you have no idea what this feels like.”
“ can’t wait to get another door slammed in my face.”
“ that’s it. put that out into the universe, alright?”
“ look on the bright side. comically, we’re batting a thousand.”
“ please, don’t shoot me, miss/mister.”
“ if i believed in god. if i believed in sin… this is the place where i’d be sucked straight to hell… if i believed in hell.”
“ i’m so sorry for your loss.”
“ i’m not sorry.”
“ you’re still here.”
“ i killed you.”
“ no. you just took my life.”
“ so how do i make you go away?”
“ i’m not like them.”
“ now, if it helps, i can tell you it’s not your fault, what you did to me.”
“ i’m not human.”
“ no. you’re just fucked up.”
“ you think it’s as simple as that?”
“ excuse me, i opened this by mistake.”
“ today it is all about the win. i think we really should enjoy this.”
“ i really appreciate your support.”
“ it was simple, really.”
“ all i had to do was put myself into the mind of a killer. hardly a stretch.”
“ trust me, you’re not going anywhere this time.”
“ who the fuck are you?”
“ that kind of talk is just gonna bring you closer to your victims.”
“ no, maybe you didn’t do the deed, but the blood is on your hands.”
“ a lot of blood is on your hands.”
“ why do you care about these people?”
“ why are you doing this to me?”
“ i’m not so much doing this to you as i’m doing it for me.”
“ you leave pain wherever you go.”
“ you kill me, what do you leave behind?”
“ look at that, steady as a surgeon.”
“ this kill was just the first of the loose ends i needed to tie off.”
“ i need to see you.”
“ i’m just dropping somebody off, can it wait?”
“ a shoe? you wanted to see me about a shoe?”
“ i didn’t have a lot to hope for until i met you.”
“ you gave me something to believe in when i didn’t even believe in myself.”
“ it’s not your fault.”
“ it was totally an act of impulse.”
“ what are you trying to say, that you planned on acting on impulse?”
“ that’s where you disappeared to at all hours of the night like clark fucking kent.”
“ if the eyes are the window to the soul, then grief is the door. as long as it’s closed, it’s the barrier between knowing and not knowing. walk away from it and it stays closed forever. but open it, and walk through it, and pain becomes truth.”
“ i’ve been preparing for this my entire life.”
“ it’s annoying, isn’t it?”
“ i’m not taking the bait.”
“ you’re up late.”
“ you don’t need to do this. you don’t need to do this now.”
“ temporary insanity.”
“ you’re right. i smell like a fucking sewer.”
“ i had to say goodbye in order to reconnect with what’s really important. with who i was.”
“ rest in peace… i am.”
REVENGE IS AS FAMILIAR A TASTE AS THE TASTE 𝙾𝙵 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳. HE WHO MUST NEVER UTTER HIS NAME. IS HE WHO MUSN'T LET ANYONE CLOSE. PRAY FOR ME MY FATHER EVEN IF MY BODY IS NOTHING BUT SIN.
independent, selective & canon divergent multimuse featuring 𝗠𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗢 from tsugumi ohba's death note. adored by misha, twenty-five, est.
