Wings
Dipper's chest heaved. It was a wonder why. For these past few weeks, he didn't need to breathe, or eat, or sleep. He thought maybe he was going mad.
But right now, he thought maybe he was wearing thin.
Something inside of him warned him that he was low on energy. That the golden sparks had ceased to run under his skin. That the blue fire would soon be quenched. That the form he retained, in the dimension of the mind, would waste away. If he didn't do anything about it soon.
With a frustrated growl, he pushed the warning away. He was working on it.
Rising again, the demon across from him tittered with delight. Two of its arms dragged, grotesque and bloody behind it. Dipper had severed whatever served for tendons in those arms. But five more were still functioning. The surfaces brushed by its working fingers rotted away, reeking of pestilence. The main mass of the demon's body was covered with matted hair and gems of oozing puss. Its smile was fixed in a leer. The long beak that extended over its eyes shadowed them so they appeared flat and black.
Maybe a few weeks ago, Dipper would have trembled at the sight of the plague demon. But not anymore. Its appearance barely served as a surprise.
"Come here, little changeling." The demon's voice sounded as if it was gurgling through layers of mucus, "You will be a wonderful little snack."
With speed Dipper didn't think the creature had, it shot forward. Wings. It had wings. Dipper hadn't noticed those before. Where did they come from?
He grew them. A nonplussed voice informed him. Most demons are capable of such a feat. Not you, though. You're pathetic.
Dipper grit his teeth as he dodged. In the past few weeks, he'd learned the way his gravity acted. He'd gotten quite good at orienting himself, but there was no good way to control fine movement while maneuvering. It was like he was an astronaut. Once he pushed off, there was no taking it back.
The plague demon took advantage of that, banking sharply. One of the slack arms clubbed Dipper about the chest, causing him to roll out of control. His loss of balance allowed the demon to rake a smoldering hand across his back.
Dipper screamed as furrows opened wide and immediately molded to black. The stench was disgustingly warm and oppressive. Nothing like the sharp and metallic scent of blood. It shot needles of pain into the surrounding area. But Dipper found he couldn't feel his back. Whatever resembled his skin and nerves were dead.
Heat began to sear his muscles as his body attempted to heal. But demon magic was much more potent than human weapons. It was slow going. Too slow with his low preserves.
You're pathetic.
"I'm not a demon." Dipper groused to the inner voice, "Why even compare us."
The answering laugh was painfully familiar. It was Bipper's laugh.
"Little changeling." The demon ginned, swirling upside down in midair as it spoke, "You won't need to worry about coming into yourself. I'll put you out of your misery."
It lunged again. And Dipper tried to skip back. But with his injury, he was still sluggish. The demon caught him, one arm for each of his limbs. The tangle of the two creatures smashed into the ground of the mindscape, leaving a crater the size of a lake.
Dipper's consciousness blurred between the monochrome of the mindscape and the black of whatever lay beyond his current existence. The pain in his back was so intense, he didn't even have the awareness to cry out.
The last arm pinned his forehead, resting directly on his birthmark. It awakened agony that had nothing to do with his back injuries. The emancipated hand of the plague demon pushed past the barrier of his skin, plunging into his head.
The shriek that ripped through Dipper resembled a human's in no way, shape, or form. It was primal. It was chaos.
The noise tore away a layer of the demon restraining him, exposing molted green skin and black veins. Raw wounds smoked. But the creature disregarded it all. Its fanged mouth overflowed with saliva. A chuckle that sounded more like a hacking cough rocked the demon's frame. It spewed drool.
"You've started with such a weak form, little changeling." It rasped, "Given time, you might have developed demon characteristics. No matter, a demon soul will serve me well. So much power…"
Dipper wasn't certain from where he heard the demon's speech. He felt as if he were somewhere outside of himself. The claws of the plague demon clipped his soul, where it rested behind his forehead, sending spirals of the most unimaginable sensation into his being. Torture. The kind that would leave an impression for a millennia.
How did he know that?
Suddenly, he was nebulous. Everywhere and not at all. A universe away, a smiling child waved in his direction, violet eyes canny and bright. An eternity ago, a cold dark planet hovered in an empty space. A separation by millions of parts, sub-atomic particles collided and formed an element, yet undiscovered.
"Yesss." The plague demon hissed, sounding like a mass of disease ridden insects, "Lucky me, to have caught you so young. You could have grown to be a hassle. How strange, for a demon to grow."
So, you end up with all my power and more. And this is what you do with it? Get eaten! Go ahead, get eaten then.
Dipper didn't feel like there was anything left of him. He was so thin, ephemeral, he felt like a puff of someone's breath would disperse what remained.
He didn't even need to breathe.
Mabel did.
Mabel.
He'd protected her from Bill Cipher. And this was his payment. He was like this now. That idiot triangle. If only he hadn't tried to possess him as a last-ditch effort. What did the demon have to live for, anyway? Bill Cipher had no one. Dipper had Mabel.
Dipper needed to live.
Dipper needed to find Mabel and tell her that he was alive.
With tremendous focus, Dipper threw what was left of himself back into his body. He channeled himself into his forehead, forming a barrier between his soul and the demon's corrosive touch. He pulled himself tight, drawing upon anything that served as energy in the barren space of the mindscape. The reactions of the plague demon's magic fizzled out as Dipper snatched up the wayward motes of power.
The plague demon hesitated, blinking its scab-encrusted eyes. It sensed a change in the changeling.
Feeling raced back into the limbs of Dipper's form. His fingers twitched. His body levitated once more. But his eyes didn't open.
Instead, a third eye, in the center of his forehead flicked open. A bright outline of gold, contrasting his depleted stores of energy. The eye defied the demon tradition of hiding the soul, their greatest point of weakness.
As if wrenched by a marionette string, Dipper's hand broke free of the demon's one arm to yank the demon's other arm from his head. Once his soul was free of its clutches, he grabbed the demon's beak with both hands. His fingers closed like a vise, cracking the toughened scales. Shards of black rained on his face and clothes.
The plague demon reeled back in shock, affording Dipper enough room to kick the creature in its revolting chest. The demon flew back even farther, still blinking in surprise. A foot shaped print on its front crackled with golden sparks.
If his enemy was going to say anything, Dipper didn't give it the chance. He shot forward, taking the offense even though he was at an enormous disadvantage. It didn't matter. Something had risen up inside him, taking control. Something that wasn't human.
His eyes never opened, but he knew everything.
He knew that the plague demon was going to feint, before dodging to the right. He knew that this area of the mindscape paralleled the Sonoran Desert in Arizona. He knew that, hundreds of years from now, the desert would be home to millions, a city called Mortius.
It was too much.
It was perfect.
He cackled as he dashed to intercept the demon. Moving too fast to stop, he snatched one of the creatures arm as he breezed by. The limb came away with a tremendous tear. Blood, black ichor, sprayed everywhere. Dipper tossed the arm away before too much could get on his clothes. Within less than a second, Dipper reversed and shot back toward his foe. Sapphire flames gathered in his hands.
With a touch, the hair that remained on the plague demon ignited with hot flames. They raced along the creature's form like it had been dipped in gasoline. It shrieked, clawing at the burning parts, black mold replacing the blue blaze. Heaving, the demon turned on Dipper.
There was no rush of energy that had accompanied his sudden belligerence. Just a single, golden eye and a weak, human-like frame remained of him. But, there was no way he would die here. He had possessed a child to stay in the world. Whatever lengths it would take. He would continue to exist.
The plague demon screeched, thrashed its wings, and dove at Dipper. Four arms outstretched, reaching for his eye, his soul.
A grin pulled at his lips. Mocking. Dipper flexed his fingers, timing his swing perfectly with all the foresight and knowledge that flooded his mind. He scratched out the eyes of the demon with ragged, unkempt, human nails. Dull, but with enough force to damage. Dipper jabbed his other hand, spear-like, between the creatures ruined eyes and ignited it with flames.
The demon careened away screaming. Dipper smiled. Hilarious. Smoking, bleeding, and ruined, it managed to remain upright. It sputtered, hissed, and growled.
"You may take the appearance of a human. But you are a demon, little changeling. The most demonic of us all."
"No matter." Dipper responded, expending the magic to flick the plague demon's blood from his shoulder. "You tried to eat me. Now I will return the favor."
"Unlikely."
The plague demon charged. Dipper shifted, grabbing hold of another arm. But rather than letting the creature barrel past, he held on, kicking off to swing up onto its back. Its arm, bent around backwards, resounded with a chorus of cracks. Dipper twisted it more fully so it shattered into a mess beneath withered skin.
Without hesitation, he pulled back his lips and plunged his dull, human teeth into the demon's rancid neck.
After weeks without eating, this was like nothing else. The flesh was soft and juicy. The flavor was terrible. Dipper imagined it might be better were it not a plague demon. He'd have to give it a try. Because now, golden sparks rushed into his stomach and nestled there. Fire lit his limbs with strength. He reached down to rip the demon's remaining limbs from its body.
All the while the creature screamed. One long, drawn out wail that didn't require it to breathe. It was a constant note of distress and powerlessness. The sound was sustained as pieces of its being were torn away. Its rot was unable to match the pace of Dipper's destruction. The wayward limbs decayed and new ones attempted to take their places.
Dipper burned them black.
He tilted his head, with predatory instinct. "Where is your soul?" He plunged his hand into the odd socket of the demon's seven arms, grinning as it stiffened beneath him. "That would be it."
The soul pulled free. Cords of power snapped back into the vessel. The plague demon's soul dripped with spoiled matter, covering Dipper's hands with a sour smelling residue. Unappealing.
In the past few weeks, he'd been able to either evade or destroy the demons that had attacked him. But he hadn't taken their souls. He'd always been able to regenerate the energy he expended. But after that brush with extermination, he wasn't so sure such a practice was ideal. What if the next attack succeeded?
That was no good.
Dipper shoved the putrid soul into his mouth. Pushed it farther than humanly possible, down his throat. All eyes now, squeezed shut, as he swallowed.
Beneath him, the demon's body dissolved into dust. Dipper floated there, aware of nothing around him. While inside, he was filled with fire. It roared up like a pyre. Every part of his being was invigorated. Heat. Hotter than a furnace. So satisfying. Flames licked his hands and traveled up his arms. Gold sparks jumped along his back and healed the last of his wounds. His eyes opened at last, and he could feel his gaze searing his surroundings.
Now.
He focused inward, siphoning a portion of his newfound energy into the small of his back. Right below the space where the plague demon's fingers had decimated his skin, a new pain blossomed.
Sweat beaded on his brow, but he pushed the transformation. Seconds later, nubs of bone pressed into the skin, punctured their way through, and stretched into a spindly skeleton. A rivulet of magic coated the new projections, threading a membrane over the spaces in between. And finally he stretched, a set of bat-like wings, so the tips touched together.
Still new, the wings were raw. The atmosphere of the mindscape sizzled against them. It hurt. A giggle built up in Dipper's throat. But there was no one to hear him. He let it loose. A mad cackle. It echoed in upon itself and reverberated through space. Terrifying.
He'd been different these past few weeks. He'd thought he's been simply dislocated from his body again. There was no way that was the case. Not anymore. Not after that.
Thoughts skittered through his mind, disorganized.
Find Mabel. I'm a demon. Wings. I need more. Never enough. Hungry. I'm alive. Arizona is not Oregon. I need more. Power. Find Mabel. Hilarious. So hungry. Demons. Mindscape. Invisible. Find Mabel. Stay alive. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry…
TBC
Here's what I like about the Drift AU: unforgivable amounts of violence. I'm a terrible human being. This will be a miniseiries, a chapter for each of Dipper's demonic acquisitions. In the main AU, it's like puberty, NOT HERE! (I'm reposting this from my tumblr with some minimal edits)
The demon here is inspired by my recent experience with a rather terrible wound – borderline gangrene. Not mine. But it was pretty much the most awful thing I've ever seen. So I'm sharing it with you.
I know I said I was going to publish my story, Triangulation, next. I'm sorry. I've been SUPER stressed out lately (even got a nice little rash, thanks anxiety) so I haven't made as much progress as I'd hoped. Writing gore-fics instead seems to be how I'm handling the stress. Again, sorry :\