#fullofdisgrace

cricket hadn't expected to get so comfortable around mary (or her son, michael, for that matter), she never lets her guard down. not now, while she's wearing calista's skin, assuming her rich, spoiled, and connected identity. and not before, when she was poor little cricket with her sad little life. but here she is, back for drinks at her place after dinner. she'd already had a good selection of wine, but cricket's new man, her husband, brought along a nice collection of his own when he moved into her penthouse apartment. perks of marrying an italian, she supposes. cricket grabs a bottle of red and joins mary in the living room.

she can't help but feel so trusting, there's something about mary, almost like she can see through cricket's disguise, see the evil underneath her mask. but mary doesn't shy away from that evil. no, she encourages it, almost. it's in the way mary looks at her, in the tiffany blue of her eyes. that's how cricket knew mary's was the firm to take her case. because, fuck, is she in trouble. caught red handed, so to speak. her and her husband both. the real reason for their quick wedding. he, a highly connected figure in the crime world, and she, just a girlfriend, and later, a hired gun.

meme. [always accepting.]

     “I don’t know. I--- I don’t remember.”

     Voice quivering, Colt’s body trembles from fear and confusion. Most of the blood dried on his way here as he didn’t bother to wipe it off himself or his clothing, he had been too shaken up. His brain had guided him here, and he wasn’t sure why. It was as if his instincts were leading him or maybe he felt as if she was the only one he could trust. He hadn’t gone to anyone he had known out of fear as his memory was foggy, only bits and pieces of what happened in his mind.

     “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to go to. I... I can leave if I’m bein’ a bother.”

First of all, Cricket is an A1 certified-platinum creative powerhouse. I mean, MY CHARACTER is steeped in Catholic theology, film and television, and a sprinkling of other lores that have existed for millennia. I’m not exactly doing any magic tricks. (Not downplaying Mary, I think I do a pretty well in my lane, but I am pointing out that there are plenty of things for me to draw from when weaving the mythos of Satan).

But Cricket is your own, wonderful creation. She’s got a zest about her that any 70s horror fan would have to appreciate. And, if they don’t, are they EVEN a fan?

Then, there’s YOU yourself. One of the sweetest muns, who already puts up with ALL my rambles (including this one), annoying excitements, and CLEARLY has stellar taste in movies.

All this to say: j’adore! I’m virtually sending you a million smooches.

ahh!! this is so so sweet im speechless!! i really appreciate all your kind words about cricket. please kno that cricket and i love u and mary just as much <3 (and i enjoy your rambles haha)

"The devil is in her belly, and she is among us! Find her, children! Kill her! Soak the earth with her blood! Rip the devil from her belly and crush it beneath your boot heels! Revelation is upon us, and we must, like angels, show no mercy!" The deep voice of Father Sullivan Knoth booms across the secretive desert town of Temple Gate, via loudspeakers on the corner of every dirt road.

It's nearly midnight; any respectable person would be in bed by now. But, no one is woken up by the emergency announcement. Respectable people don't live in Temple Gate; only sinners in denial, and sinners who've embraced their filth.

Val falls into the category of the latter. It's why she's no longer under Knoth's control, why she hears the announcements only faintly from the outskirts of town. She isn't welcome in The Testament of The New Ezekiel cult anymore, though she'd left her position as deacon willingly. Knoth was blinded to the truth. He'd spent so long trying to prevent the rise of the antichrist, trying to justify the sins of his followers, that he never stopped to ask why.

But Val, always open minded, had seen the truth. Life is a cycle. No growth without death, no pushing forward without first letting the past burn to the ground. There is no progress without chaos. She's been waiting for this night, just as Sullivan Knoth has. He thinks it's his calling in life to slaughter the antichrist before he can be born. She knows it's her calling to welcome him safely into their irredeemable world.

@fullofdisgrace

“No!” The scream broke out of his throat as he watched the woman--the t h i n g--advance towards him. He remembered it very well, had seen its face before. He had watched that face vanish from sight as Lorraine sent it back to Hell, as it erupted into a spit of fire and left without a trace. All signs of activity ceased and fell to the floor while he still struggled to keep Janet from toppling onto the broken tree trunk below. He felt Lorraine pull them back inside, pull them to safety, and he never clung to her harder than he had that night. It was over, Valak was in Hell. 

          Only it wasn’t.

The woman before him began as a nun and slowly transformed into the demon that was supposedly dead, gone and out of their lives and never able to hurt another living soul again...or even a dead one for that matter. But the older woman’s face slowly transformed, changed from the evilly smiling face of a nun into the monstrous demon that had tried to end their lives not even a year ago. He had seen it in his nightmares before, but never like that, never changing from a human to a monster. It was something he never even considered, that it could take human form and hide amongst people. 

And now this thing had Lorraine, was making her scream. And beg. And cry. Screaming screaming screaming... His name, prayers to a god that wasn’t listening, for their daughter who lay dead on the floor. He watched in horror as life poured out of her eyes, watched as the screaming slowly stopped, as the blood pooled around her feet  more than it did in her veins. 

“No! NO! Lorraine, no! You get away from her! Don’t touch her, bring her back! You’re dead, you’re supposed to stay gone! Get away!” All it did was laugh and laugh and laugh, coming closer and closer to him--

He woke up in the middle of a scream, sweat pouring off his face and the sheets twisted around him in a damp mess. He could hear his wife and daughter talking in the other room and luckily he didn’t startle them. Running a hand down his face, he shook his head and tried to shake away the feeling of impending doom. Because it made no sense, Valak couldn’t be back, it was sent to Hell, he saw it. It couldn’t hurt anybody, not his family, not him, not anyone. Taking a deep breath, he swiped his face again, and detangled himself from the sheets to get around for his day. They had a meeting with a priest about a new case in Massachusetts at a place called Briarcliff. 

❛those whxres deserved what i gave them and nothing less. women need to learn their place before me, which is on their KNEES.❜ fingertips touch along his jawline and chin. ❛i was simply coaching them on how to be a good wife, how to please their husband. none of them were worthy.❜  

Send “🙋” + any headcannons you want to know about my muse.

Before ending up stuck at the Cortez, she didn’t use to. Heroin was the only drug that would help take the edge off and the only one that could truly satisfy her. Though she was a drug dealer and sold all kinds of stuff, she wasn’t truly interested in becoming too committed to anything else and frowned upon those that were too scared to try the real thing. Now that she has nowhere to run, Sally was forced to be a little bit more open minded because heroin was no longer as easy to come by as it once was. She manages, but if she can’t get her hands on her drug of choice she’ll turn to cocaine and alcohol (it counts, I think). Sally knows how to be sneaky, breaking into Elizabeth’s penthouse isn’t exactly impossible and she knows the Countess won’t notice (or won’t mind) her stealing a few grams every now and then. But let’s be real, in her eyes cocaine can’t match heroin; not having endless supplies of it gets on her nerves and makes her all the more cranky and dangerous. Sally is in no position to be picky and even though that’s not in her nature, she’s still grateful death didn’t come hand in hand with sobriety.