I’d like to thank my friend @mirrorworldangel for inspiring me to finish this piece by their ficlet (go check out their posts NOW, they're awesome). I got inspired by Lady Tanith and Rykard from Elden Ring in this one (i fucking love them dude), and this is possibly the most dubious piece i’ve posted. So please, be careful and attentive of the tags please.
TW: child/sacrificial/arranged marriage, extremely big age gap (considering one of them’s a god and the other is a 12 y.o., so BE WARNED), religious themes, a bit of implied body horror/dehumanization too as a treat
Stanford who practically had his name ripped off the family after he moved and made a deal with an entity. Instead of making a deal with the god (which is essentially Bill or anyone else), man FUSED himself with it, becoming a mockery of nature and a twisted god of knowledge and greed (not in a “riches” way, more like an “i will do everything and anything to get what i want/reach my objectives” kind of greed). From the “blessings” he gave to the people of the town, they started seeing him as a higher being and worshipping him.
The years go by and no one talks about Stanford, his name being forgotten or unknown. After trimillennial years, Stanley is born. Things go the same for him, called stupid or seen as a disappointment (especially now, considering he’s an only child). So, being a kid without a stable support system and without friends, he mostly spends his time outside, going on pretend adventures with his friend/possum Shanklin and ignoring his feelings (this totally won’t have any consequences in the foreseeable future, none at all).
Stanford on the other side of the country felt a literal change on the force. While Stanley’s living his “best life”, man’s obsessing over the newfound feeling - so many years being glued to one place (even by his own will), he felt excited at the prospect of something new after god-knows how many years. He sends out some of his followers to see what was the cause of it, if he should be worried or not about this “change”, which is essentially how he finds out about Stanley.
Stanford’s morals were already… questionable. But after he fused with Bill???? Brother those things got even more twisted or are straight-out thrown out of the window depending on the situation. He’s curious about the brat - even more with the feelings that came. Just by the way his followers described him made him feel complete! As if some puzzle piece was missing all along, he thought it was fulfilled once he achieved godhood, but it was far better than it.
He wanted the boy.
He’s the God of Knowledge, a spiritual being that took physical form among mortals, with a group that would put their necks on the line for him. No mortal force could deny him anything.
When Filbrick and Caryn are visited by the cultists, Filbrick is exhilarated at the thought of one of the Old Gods blessing them with riches, so much he’s almost shoving Stan out the door instantly. Caryn, on the other hand, was inconsolable. The mere image of her baby being sacrificed to a mockery of nature made her want to cry. Stan doesn’t really understand, his mother isn’t looking at him and his father is just telling him not to mess anything up.
On the day of his “bringing”, his mother is helping him with his clothes. She looks thin, face sunken and eyes aimless as she fixes the red veil on his head. He’s wearing things that are more expensive than all the things in his house combined. An intricate golden border weaved on the red material, so big that it fell on his shoulders. A simple white and red gown with patterns embroidered on its short-puffed sleeves, rings and golden bracelets sitting heavy on his skinny arms. He smirks when he sees his reflection on the old vanity, he looks like a noble. He looks rich.
He asks his mom if his friend will like him. Caryn wants to cry.
Stan can’t help but feel giddy at all the attention he’s receiving. These people don’t even know him but they’re praising him, saying how amazing he is, how he’ll soon be loved by all, that his name will be known across the lands to the seas and to the skies. He feels sad his parents stayed behind for the ceremony, but they tell him that they’ll join after it. They eagerly push him towards the temple, leading him to the altar as he watches people cheer, laugh and celebrate his mere existence.
And there, he meets his “friend”.
His smile falls, a shiver runs down his spine. The people guiding him are oblivious to his turmoil, happily pushing him closer to the… creature. It might have a humanoid figure and be completely covered in multiple robes, but he’s not dumb enough to not recognize danger. What gets his attention is the six fingered hand slipping out one of the sleeves, taking his (tiny in comparison to the gigantic limb) hand in his. He was almost surprised at the gentleness of the action. It slips a ring on his fingers, saying something about eternal loyalty, branding him its “Lady”.
The entire church erupts in joyful screams at his hesitant nod.
It’s… actually really boring after the ceremony. They change his clothes to another gown and paint something in his forehead, guiding him to a more fancy building. They practically maneuver him to sit on the plushy chair, excitedly telling him about his position as the Proprietor and Consort. He’s like a psychic!
The first week was awesome, seeing so many people walk the entire guest hallway just to talk with him and receive his visions and sermons made him feel so cool (if he could he would shove it on Crampelter’s face)! He could just say some nonsense and they’d eat it straight from his hands! And then the second week came, and the third, and he was so so bored. The only thing he did was sit there and say random bullshit. And the big guy of the cult didn’t even look for him once, and where are his cool powers???
Tired of the repetitive routine and being ignored, he leaves the manor and goes to the temple. He doesn’t give a shit if he’s interrupting the ninetieth sermon of the day or whatever, he pulls the guy’s robes and demands his attention. Yeah, the giant six handprint on the veil covering its face creeps him out, but the part of him who’s pissed yells louder. He’s smug at the astonished silence that comes from it (until it grabbed him like a kitten and raised him from the ground).
Their only ever real interaction happened some time after that.
“Stanley was certain his friend was an ass.
The thing barely spoke to him - and he’s been there for weeks -, for some reason it’s obsessed with watching him from the shadows of his manor (he stopped giving attention to it once he realized it wouldn’t answer him), and depending on the angle you were looking at it, it seemed to have more limbs than normal moving under its robes. And after his little “interruption”, it seemed to take fun in tormenting him, using his fear of heights to suddenly lift him from the ground and carry him around the town. Seriously, what’s its deal?
So, with the will and the authority of a High Consort (whatever that means) and Proprietor of the Manor, he decided to look for answers!
He decided the best place to look was straight from the source of it all, the Temple. He decided to enter it - more like break in - after the evening, where the last praying hour would happen and it would be closed for the rest of the day. The people didn’t want to anger their “Lord” after this time.
Stan blew a raspberry, almost tripping on the flounce of his gown. Bunch of bull, his honest opinion.
Besides! This was the coolest hour! With no one around, the place looked like one of the scenes from the books with illustrations he stole once! He didn’t even see the Inquisitor wandering around. The guy creeped him out (something something Fiddlesticks? Fliplick? Bleh, something like that), with that iron mask and that scythe, murmuring under his breath on his best days. Yeah, he preferred he kept his loyalty to his so-called Lord or whatever.
One thing he quickly came to realize was how unnecessarily long the hallways were. Not even his manor was that exaggerated. Multiple antique and fading paintings hung on the walls, ripped curtains and dusty shelves, surprisingly well-taken wooden and marble statues - some missing some limbs from the passage of time. He didn’t open a single door, in fear that it would suddenly appear and blow his cover.
His head snapped at the end of the corridor, the sound of sloshing and splashing coming from behind one of the doors. He covered his mouth, muffling his giggles. Jogging towards the door, he realized there was a bit of light coming from the slightly opened crack. Stan’s luck couldn’t have been better!
Slowly propping his hands on the wood, he smirked as pressed his face closer to the crack, excited at what he would discover. Maybe, he could even gossip about it to the others once they check his manor!
He regretted it almost immediately.
An eye stared back at him, but he’s pretty sure that wasn’t its face. Ripped muscles and hands sprouting from the wrong places, bones protruding the skin as if they were healed wrong or didn’t know where to go to make it fit, human legs hanging limply from the animalistic torso, organs he couldn’t even name falling and making a wet sound whenever it hit the skin, limbs pulsing and jerking as if they had lives of their own. He’s pretty sure he saw what looked like wings, randomly placed and varying in size.
Stan wanted to throw up. He needed to leave. Now.
Stan tried to push himself away, to get away and go back to his manor, to leave this town. In his haste, his foot got trapped on the length of his dress. His heart hammered as he fell face first on the floor, body slamming and rolling the door’s bottom stairs.
He moaned in pain, softly rubbing his forehead. That hurt. Who puts stairs behind a door?!
He froze as a shadow fell upon him, covering the entirety of the floor. He didn’t want to turn around. He really didn’t want to turn around. Well, he didn’t even turn, it decided to pluck him right out of the floor, holding him tightly in its hold. His body shook violently, as he was brought face-to-face to it - the worms roaming around its face falling on the floor with a firm “thud”.
Stan wanted to throw up.
It stared at him expectantly, he could see some simmering anger and curiosity in its eye (or what he thought was an eye), its body now hastily covered with its robes. Shit. Shit. What does he do?! What does he say?! Technically, it is his fault for breaking into its temple. And now he messed up by seeing it in its private quarters. Appeal to it? How?? Pray to him? He doesn’t know what to say! Make an excuse? It's the head of the town, it knows everything!
“I- I-” Stan stammered as a hand came closer to him. “I- Umm- I really like- your wings!”
The hand stopped. Stan cheered internally.
“Y-Yeah! Your wings! They’re- they’re pretty cool!” Stan yelled. “I like their colors! Ummmm… blue looks good on you!”
It stared in silence. Until, tentatively, it brought him closer to its robes, a wing spreading out from underneath it. Crooked, some parts missing feathers and exposing raw skin. One thing he didn’t lie about was the colors. They… they actually looked kind of cool.
He was lightly shaken from the hand holding him, the creature now adjusting its hold so he could have his arms free. He looked at his hands, then at the wing who was now on arm's length.
Did- did it want him to pet it?
Hesitantly, Stan ran his fingers through the feathers. It was… soft. Really soft, nice to the touch too. He took care to not prod the exposed skin. He heard some chirps coming from behind him, becoming broader with his petting.
That- actually wasn’t so bad.”
Apparently, that’s all it took for the guy to get his head out of his ass. You know, simple things like actually talking to him, learning his name (the dude’s a behemoth and his name is Stanford), going on dinner dates, casually committing heresy, attempting to drag him out of the temple whenever the preaching goes on for too long.
Stanley skittishly gets closer to the man, giving him (shy) backhanded compliments and giving him some of his sketches. Stanford seems fond of carrying him around in his many hands, letting him nap in his hold whenever he got tired of the manor - which moved to Stan spending most of his time sitting on Stanford’s shoulders. It’s months after when he’s putting more effort in his drawings and sermons, wearing the clothing gifts Stanford made for him; Stan moving into the temple and sharing a bed with the god, one of his hands covering his entire body that he realizes “omg i’m a follower just like these losers”.