iguessso12:

“Nine. Ten. Eleven.
Twelve.” Dipper generated extra fingers for his counting, “Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Hmmm, not
bad.”

He floated lackadaisically in the mindscape, surrounded by
the greyed out pines of Gravity Falls. A shimmer of power clung to his skin.
Sparks danced between his fingers, still human by all appearances, save the
extra digits. He brushed his hands together, dismissing them.

Demon souls roiled about in his gut, digesting.

Ever since he’d eaten the soul of the plague demon, he’d
welcomed the following creatures that dared to take his soul. The pace of
attacks hadn’t abated either. Not a soul escaped alive to spread the word of
this vicious new demon that disguised itself as a human.

And yet still, he was unable to force his way out of the
mindscape. The barrier between dimensions was resilient and rubbery. Whenever
he tried to push through, it clung to his form and eventually repulsed his
efforts. He’d funneled all his power into becoming corporeal. All attempts
unsuccessful.

“I guess I need
more.” He muttered to himself. He ignored the way the needles of the pines
shivered at his voice. “I’m still
hungry.”

Suddenly, a sensation he wasn’t familiar with tugged at his
soul. A thread of power that connected his present location to another. His
forehead twitched, third eye blinking open, making him feel like he needed to
sneeze. Hilarious. Human spasms.

He closed his eyes. Following.

A feathery breeze brushed over his skin, cool against his
searing skin. It whispered through the pine trees, hushed, but carrying secrets
only he could hear. His third eye was assaulted with color, radiating from
every element. The ground effused soft shades of tremple. The creature in front of him smoked with coils of rammin.

Strange. It was a human. And it could see him. Amidst the
smoke from his appearance.

“What is the meaning of this, Bill?”

Somehow, the voice was familiar. It took Dipper a minute to
sift through his human memories. After he’d eaten the second demon, he’d broken
down. Now he knew his tears were gold and his sobs melted the air. Disgust made
him want to hurl sparking emesis, but he kept it down. He needed the energy. A
jot of power could not be wasted. Human instincts were inconvenient. He shoved
them down, repressing them with locks in the form of three-sided shapes.
Triangles.

Bill. Bill Cipher.

Gideon Gleeful’s honeyed accent registered.

Dipper opened his eyes to be greeted by the sight of the
diminutive showman. His powder blue suit was overlaid with more colors:
confusion, anxiety, obstinance. A grin felt like it was ripping his face in
half. Oh, this was hilarious.

“Demon… What?” Gideon stuttered to a stop, examining the
being in front of him further. Now the air was clear and everything was laid
bare.

Dipper glanced down as well, for the first time registering
what his tiny enemy was seeing. His clothes – shorts, t-shirt, and vest – were
covered with blood of multiple colors. Black. Green. Gold. His own and that of
others. Frayed rips and burned holes peppered the fabric so it hung off his
emancipated frame. Transient tongues of fire licked at his sneakers, the canvas
just as ratty as his clothes. Sparks made his snarled hair stand on end, but he
felt his hat still securely fixed on his head.

He floated above a circle. They array was decorated with familiar
symbols and a prominent triangle. But Dipper could tell that the stings of
power were lax. Their origin was now connected to nothing. A few, wayward strands
tangled about Dipper’s ankle. So that’s how he had ended up here.

Gideon’s summons had pulled the next closest creature onto
the plane of reality. If Dipper had doubted his demonhood before, he could no
longer. But he’s already accepted his nature. Necessary.

“Dipper Pines?” Gideon muttered, “How is this right. You
died. You died two months ago. I didn’t summon a ghost, I summoned a demon.”

Dipper threw back his head and laughed. Loud and mocking.
Hilarious. This was pure gold. Sparks scampered along his shoulders. Wings
flared, keeping his balance even as they shook with mirth. As giggles started
to wind down, he snuck peek at the child psychic, causing him to dissolve into
another fit. Golden tears leaked from his eyes and he rubbed them away with the
heel of his hand.

“Bill. I demand to know what is going on right now! Why do
you look like Dipper Pines? Why is the supernatural suddenly everywhere? I
demand you tell me what you’ve done!”

“It’s funny how dumb
you are.” Dipper chuckled. He swooped closer to the edge of the chalk
circle. He registered how the atmosphere here felt thick, like he was pushing
at the barrier between dimensions again.

“Bill.” Gideon warned with pointless heat.

“Oh, it’s not Bill,
kid. I am Dipper Pines.”

“I wanted a demon.”

“And you got one.”

Dipper bowed mockingly. A triangular clog clicked, twitching
into the right orientation. Instinct. The same that ravenously demanded souls
also eagerly awaited a deal. Blue flames sprung into his palm. He held it out
for Gideon.

“What can I do for
you?”

“This is preposterous!” Gideon exclaimed, “The journal
didn’t say anything about this.”

“It doesn’t say much
about lots of things.” Dipper leered, “But
I know lots of things.”

Gideon hesitated.

“Wouldn’t you like to
know lots of things?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, this
should be simple. I tell you what you want to know in return for a little
favor.”

“What favor?”

Gideon wasn’t as stupid as he seemed. He did learn. He
didn’t learn fast enough. Only a short time after the world had become
intertwined with the supernatural and he was summing a demon.

“I need power. Just a
smidgeon should do. I can’t give you knowledge without a tiny boost. A small
sacrifice. It could be something like a little piggy.”

Gideon thought over it. The request was simple enough.
“Deal.”

The diminutive showman reached through the wall of magic.
Baby-soft hand clasped with gore-encrusted hand. Human and demon. Sapphire
flames blossomed as the contract was sealed.

“Why don’t I fulfill
my end of the bargain first.” Dipper suggested, leaning back to float about
the circumference of the circle. A little bit of reassurance would put Gideon
at ease. Misdirection. He swallowed down the saliva that was building in his
mouth. With eyes that could peer through multiple dimensions, he could see the
soul of his tiny enemy resting behind his sternum. It was smooth, tinted with
the jallitte color of corruption.

“What happened at the Transcendence?”

Even with his third eye closed, Dipper could see the events,
clear as day. There was a collision of his human memories and his omniscient
perspective. He wrestled between the two, sorting through like he was
untangling Mabel’s pink skein of yarn. The answer came free.

“Bill’s spell to
merge the mindscape and your dimension failed. My fault, really. But the
implosion widened the dimensional rent that resided in Gravity Falls. The
supernatural is everywhere now. Deal with it. You aren’t that special, kid.”

“What happened to you?”

“Bill tried to
possess me to preserve his existence. But the magic from the spell had already
unwound his being. His powers latched onto me. Changed me. I’m a demon now. I’m
special.”

“You don’t look like much of a demon.”

Dipper shrugged. Repressing the smirk was easy. A
performance. Repressing his hunger was another thing altogether.

“Anything else.”

“Yes. What do I need to do to make Mabel Pines mine?”

A lazy smirk leaked through. Dipper halted his circuit in front
of Gideon. Still reclined, he tipped his head back so the child psychic could
see his expression.

“I’d like my payment
before I answer any more questions. Remember what I said, I can’t give you
knowledge without a tiny boost.”

Gideon’s brow furrowed, “Will you just wait here while I get
the sacrifice?”

“That’s unnecessary.”
Dipper’s lips pulled back in an unnatural smile. “It’s already here.”

The diminutive psychic didn’t even have time to be confused.
Dipper threw himself at the barrier. It was spongey, weaker than when he was
incorporeal. He had bid his time and gathered his power. Now his fingers broke
through the barrier, tearing it wider so that his head and neck forced its way
into reality. Magic threaded its way into his limbs, restraining him. Sparks
burst like snapped live-wire, frying the threads.

Gideon stumbled back, falling on his butt next to an open
notebook with diagrams and incantations.

“What are you doing!?!”

“Taking my
sacrifice.”

A grasping hand brushed Gideon’s ankle and he snatched it
back.

“Me!?!” the child psychic shrieked in disbelief, “We agreed
on a pig!”

“I said it ‘could
be’!” Dipper giggled, “You’re close
enough. You’re such a pig, Gideon. And I’m so hungry!”

“No!” Gideon screamed. He scrambled to his feet, snatching
the book up with him. “No. No. No. This can’t be happening.” Watery eyes
hastily scanned the pages. “Adiuro vos:
Dipper Pines!!”

The spell registered in Dipper’s power thirsty mind. A
binding. His name reinforced the weak words and poor pronunciation. Even
without an additional array, the spell was effective.

Space that he had stretched apart suddenly snapped back,
like elastic, tightening over his neck and wrists. Dipper hissed. Flames
sputtered and died out. The circle beneath him glowed. Invisible stings pulled
him back to the center, slow but relentless.

His stomach boiled. Demanded more. Another soul was so
close. Sparks swirled in a vortex, racing under his skin, alit every muscle and
nerve. It fused with his faux human form. He knew, he was human once.
Physicality should be easy.

Dipper gave his humanity a shove. Not noodle arms, but ones
spiked with power. Not scratched up knees, but ones he didn’t even need to use
as he defied the laws of nature. Not a freakish forehead, but one that now
housed all the secrets of the universe. Still, human once. He recalled what it
was like to stand in front of Mabel when Gideon’s robot threatened them on the
bridge, hundreds of feet above the ground.

He would do it again.

With a growl, he lit the binding stings with blue fire. He
hurled himself again at the edge of the circle. He fixed his gaze solely, not
on Gideon, but the human’s soul. Hungry. His first human soul.

A clap of thunder filled the pine forest. Chalk dissolved
into smoke. The circle of candles were buffeted back and smashed apart against
the trunks of the surrounding trees.

Predatory, Dipper pounced at Gideon. With inhuman strength,
he knocked away the tome the child psychic wielded and grabbed him by the
lapels. Dipper’s soiled hands contrasted harshly with Gideon’s well-pressed
suit. Fire simmered under his grip, begging to be let out.

Dipper held it back, enjoying his victory. All the sensations
of the real world rebounded off him, tenfold. After isolation, it was pure
rapture. He wanted to drag his jagged nails across his arms, raise furrows of
red and stripes of gold. He wanted to drive dull knives and let his insides
open to air. Hilarious.

Gideon’s terror washed over him. Whimpers befitting the
sorry excuse of a creature. His soul pulsed under Dipper’s grip.

“I could go for
another soul.” Dipper mused, pointing to the center of his tiny enemy’s
chest. “I don’t have enough on my own,
it seems. Do you want to know how many I’ve had so far?”

The diminutive showman shook his head, no.

“Oh, come on. Play
along.”

He tossed Gideon to the ground, earning a gasp as the child
psychic was left without breath. Without preamble, he levitated Gideon,
reminiscent of another battle, now reversed. Dipper floated closer, all smiles
and beating bat-wings.

“How many?” Gideon choked out.

“One.” He bent
back his tiny enemy’s pinky till it cracked. Gideon cried out.

“Two.”

“Three.”

Every count was accompanied by another broken digit until
Dipper reached ‘ten’. Gideon was sobbing. His face ruddy and soaked with tears.
No amount of pleading abated Dipper’s pace. It was just too hilarious. He put a
hand to his chin, thinking.

“Out of fingers.”

“Please,” Gideon begged, “Please stop. I promise. I’ll leave
your family alone. Just stop.” He cradled his hands to his chest as if that
would protect them. His voice was broken and raw.

“How about a limb?
Let me get rid of those useless arms for you. Eleven.”

The child psychic’s objection was cut off by a scream. Arm
and blue suit sleeve thudded to the ground. Sounds of viscous liquid went
unheard beneath tortured sounds as blood splattered over the dusty forest
floor. Gideon wasn’t even coherent anymore.

Three more swipes of magic and fire.

“Twelve.”

“Thirteen.”

“Fourteen.”

Something that felt like sandpaper rubbed against Dipper’s
form, wearing him down. The speed of the sparks under his skin faltered. A
force drew him toward the mindscape like a vacuum.

Gideon was nothing more than a mess of despicable human
flesh. With unerring speed, Dipper propelled himself forward with a beat of his
wings. He plunged his hand into his tiny enemy’s chest, fingers closed like a
vise over his soul.

The diminutive showman’s eyes rolled back in his head. Only
whites showed.

“Fifteen.”

Discarding the decapitated stump, Dipper examined the soul
resting in his palm. His stomach rumbled. Warring sensations of revulsion and
hunger. His diet had consisted solely of demon souls up to this point. Once he
did this, there was no going back. He would completely discard his humanity in
his search for power. To survive. To grow. To find Mabel.

Ignoring the pull of another dimension, Dipper let the
voices in his mind battle.

A twelve – no thirteen – year old boy. Who only wanted to be
an adventurer and uncover the mysteries of Gravity Falls vehemently objected to
this course of action. They could find another way. Try naturally regenerating
their energy. Stop fighting for a while and try reaching Mabel after that.

It would take
centuries to gain enough. Mabel would be long gone by then. And there’s no way
to avoid the demons. They’re hunting us. Trying to get a taste of fresh blood.
They’re going to get a taste of pain instead. Hilarious.

It was already done. He decided. Pieces of Gideon were
scattered about the woods, unfixable. And the soul in his hand looked
delightfully smooth and cool. And he was hungry.

Dipper swallowed his first human soul.

Marvelous. Infinitely better than a demon’s. There was no
struggle between wills. Gideon had no choice but to submit to a greater power.
And now he would suffer more before being released to reincarnate. Served him
right. Pig. Dipper cackled, flooded with more energy. He lost it, the mindscape
pulled him back. But he had a taste of human and a taste of fresh air. He’d be
wanting it back. Very soon.

First, he’d need to remedy the little issue with binding. He’d
need a new name, a title. One that gave others no leverage. One that would
instill fear.

He perused his mind. Bits and pieces of humanity floated
about, driving nausea in his gullet and composing tears in his eyes. His frame
shook. So he gathered up fragments of Dipper Pines and locked them away once
more. Along the way, a memory cut loose. One of his father pointing out the
stars in the sky to convince a younger Dipper Pines that his birthmark made him
special.

“I’m special.” He muttered.

“I’m Alcor.”

TBC

<> 

I’m an awful human
being. That is all.