( tw: exorcism, tw: death, tw: blood mention, tw: violence, tw: language.
if you’re religious and easily offended by a demon being, well, a demon DO NOT read this. i’m serious. i’m religious myself but after watching enough horror flicks and a few films on exorcism, i feel a lot more comfortable writing this stuff. and although i at least consider what i wrote tame, please read this at your own discretion. )
he denies the religious prayer, sinking his eldritch teeth deeper into her fragile spirit and latching on possessively. he tears into her spirit’s flesh, and makes her shriek in an ungodly display of DESPERATION, pleading to be saved from the malevolent force she had so foolishly conjured and has settled beneath her skin. she is his vessel, and he plans on staying.
the bed trembles violently, and the ropes that are keeping the girl’s body restrained burst into blinding azure flames. golden locks whipping back as her body arches, and begins floating --- her mouth wide open in a silent scream. her family sees nothing but terror, and the church minister tries desperately to bring the cosmic demon’s expulsion to an end. with the last bit of fibre burning, and the scent of firewood in the air the bonds finally snap and the girl falls back onto the safety of her mattress in an unmoving heap.
at first there’s silence, as if the world outside the farmhouse has ceased living. there were no birds chirping, and no wind making silk curtains billow, but there’s the sunset peaking through the large open window draping the room in warm light. something bright, and happy. there’s a whisper. a woman’s voice that calls the reverend’s holy name and dainty fingers rising from wrinkled white sheets as the girl reaches out to her saviour. the priest approaches, the young woman’s family at his side as they smile heavenly smiles, lulling the survivor to a job well done. the father he closes the bible, tucks his cross back into his breast pocket and the last light disappears under the mountains.
there’s no more light. no more hope.
nails sink into the clergy’s neck, and draws BLOOD.
❛ OUR FATHER THIS TO HELL, YOU BITCH ! ❜
with brute strength, the man garbed in black is lifted and hurled out the open window. a sickening crunch follows after the descent, and the family scatters but they don’t matter. the demon, having full control of the woman’s body latches onto the ceiling and crawls his way out the open window, onto the rooftop. there, he looks down and sees the twisted form of the clergy in a bed made of fresh blood. tilting his head in awe the demon takes a moment to ADMIRE his work, and just as he’s about to make the decision to leave he lifts his borrowed blue eyes and notices something in the near distance in front of one of the barns at the farm. a moving lantern, and an all too familiar silhouette and a distinct brand of cologne that he smells and cannot refuse.
standing up, he rolls his neck and arches his back to stretch and loosen up his new body. picking up one side of his night gown he leaps from the edge of the roof, and lands directly right in front of the barn house drawing dry dirt to cloud under his bare feet after landing. stepping into the barn, slow steps are taken not by caution, but from a carefree behaviour.
❛ I ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT YOU BEING HERE, FILBRICK. GEE,
WHAT AN UNFORTUNATE MISHAP BACK AT THE HOUSE, HUH?
IT’S TOO BAD YOU MISSED THE SHOW ! I WAS PLAYING IT UP
--- A PRETTY GOOD DAMSEL IN DISTRESS IF I HAD THAT PRIEST FOOLED.
BUT I REALLY WISH YOU WEREN’T WAITING BACK HERE JUST SO YOU CAN
SURPRISE ME, SIXER ! ❜
upon hearing running footsteps within the shadows, he catches the other’s attack and they go down fighting for DOMINANCE, however, the fight ends quicker than he anticipates as he finds himself rolling and shoved away to create a gap between them. at first he’s confused, and amused even but, just as he opens his pale lips to retort he notices a symbol underneath his feet, and BILL CIPHER becomes stiff, toes curling in as they become numb. and he stumbles further into the Demon’s Trap spray painted on dirt. ❛ FUCK ! ❜
❛ All part of the plan to send you back to hell, Bill.
I was right in thinking that it couldn’t possibly be any other demon
but you when I heard about this from the church, and I knew, that
if Father Constantine failed it’d be up to me to stop you from using
that helpless girl’s body as your puppet. It’s over, Bill. ❜
pupils dilate as the demon spies a bible and a cross being pulled out from within trench coat pockets, quickly responding to it with a hiss and an arm rising to shield his eyes from the cross that is thrust in front of his vessel’s face. stepping onto the centre of the circle to distance himself, he takes the moment to spew hate and threats, trying desperately to find a way out --- a broken link in the pattern’s borders. with his legs already growing weak from the cross just being held before him he falls to his knees, and digs his nails into the dirt after the first verse of the Lord’s Prayer.
❛ YOU --- I’LL KILL THIS BITCH, STANFORD. I’LL KILL HER,
AND I’LL FIND SOME OTHER DESPERATE INGRATE TO
POSSESS AND I’M COMING FOR YOU, YOU FUCKWAD---
---AGHH ! FUCK YOUR HOLY WATER, AND FUCK YOU ! ❜
yet he quickly grows desperate as his vision starts to blur, and becomes almost angry if it isn’t for the combined effect of a prayer is being shouted in his ear and the trap making him loose his sense of direction. he’s feeling something he has never felt before and it is something that he wishes to NEVER become aware of again as he opens his mouth and screams, shaking the barn awake. the doors swings violently, and the wind starts picking up pace. his soul is beginning to burn from within his vessel’s body, and he collapses in a writhing mess, clawing over dirt and feeling the symbolic markings scorching borrowed flesh, only adding to the agony.
❛ STANFORD. STANFORD YOU’RE HURTING ME !
STOP. STOP IT ! WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME ?! ❜
thoughts of evoking an ancient spell as a last resort, he suddenly spots freedom at the back of the circle --- a small opening smudged away from what he can only assume was made when his captor ran over it. so, mustering up his last bit of strength as the final verses of the Lord’s Prayer is said, Bill breaks away from his vessel and takes a dangerous roll out of the circle before he’s vanquished into oblivion, coming to a halt within his DREAMSCAPE.
but, it is the first time he is introduced to something entirely different than joyful tears. the first time he shrieks in an agony he has never expressed before in his entire existence till now. he has made it to safety, but at a price. in his escape part of his spirit snagged at the sigil’s border, and was torn away. the result being that of a dark substance resembling the cosmos pooling around him from his wound, and he lies still and whimpers at the excruciating gash running along his back in a white, luminescent glow.
he’s bleeding. and god’s are not meant to bleed.
leave it to STANFORD PINES to do the impossible.
fuck that guy...
BILL summons up a tub filled with warm water, grabs the edge and heaves himself up into it, letting half of his body sink into the soothing waters in a series of broken whimpers when his wound makes first contact, and a resounding hiss as he settles in. he doesn’t bother with the rest of his attire and only cares to take his jacket off and toss it aside, one hand coming to rest over the cut, and the other hand propped against the tub’s edge. he breathes, eye half lidded as it fades into crimson red.
don’t ship with me bc I will worship our ship and love on it every other second and when I’m not doing replies I will reblog things to fill our otp tag and I will message you lil things to reply to and cute headcanons and spine crippling anGST DONT DO IT I WARNED YOU
i’d like to think post-finale he’s just pain-floating somewhere simultaneously inescapable for bad triangles and yet easily permeable for Mabel’s glitter astral mailing service
❛ A WORD OF ADVICE, AND THAT YOU SHOULD THINK ABOUT CONSIDERING
THIS MOMENT IN TIME AS SOMETHING YOU SHOULD CARRY WITH PRIDE IN
THE FUTURE MY FRIEND SINCE YOUR ACQUAINTANCESHIP WITH FORESTER
BAILS YOU FROM RECEIVING A WELCOME PUNCH TO THE FACE !
bill: i've made forester become the demon she was always meant to be
tad: you fucked up a perfectly good friend is what you did. look at it. its got anxiety.
ah it wasn’t like Tad had suspected his brother to be ANY DIFFERENT from what he used to be, but he had HOPED and the passing of time had MELLOWED out some of the rowdier memories.
‘ && it seems like YOU have not CHANGED either. ‘
he feels his everlasting calm crumble with the weight of Bills presence in the room. It had been slowly deteriorating into anger from the moment Bill “died” and getting him back seemed to DOUSE THE FLAMES WITH GASOLINE. A crack echoed inside the office as Tad’s glove was covered in fine ink, the pen in splinters inside his closed fist. ‘Oh Dear’ He muttered, snapping his fingers to restore it to its former glory before taking off his gloves.
a scoff. AMUSEMENT introducing itself over the spilled ink and broken pen. with a sigh BILL goes ahead and invites himself to plop down onto the leather cushion of the second chair in the room across his sibling’s work desk, one leg crossing over the other. he’s made it to the NIGHTMARE REALM, made it to Tad’s office and for a reason he never even had in the first place. his arrival meant nothing though, now it had become a reminder that he was ALIVE again.
but to see family wallowing in anger gave him a sense of pride, and he leans back against his chair sitting in a way as if his seat has been propped onto a high pedestal. he’s been quiet, and observant since TAD’S statement but it hadn’t taken him long to find his voice then. he speaks,
❛ HAVEN’T YOU HEARD, WISE GUY? PEOPLE DON’T CHANGE. ❜
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