Every Square a Rectangle, Not every Rectangle a Triangle

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Every Square a Rectangle, Not every Rectangle a Triangle

Postby SocialBookWorm » September 24th, 2017, 3:27:03 pm

Gravity Falls was a hot spot of weirdness. Attracting the supernatural much like flowers attracted bees, Dot mused as he floated through the trees. It wasn't the most ideal place for a job such as this, but Dot would preserver. He made no hurry towards their destination, even with the presence at his left corners. The fleashbag- no human, it would be better for him to shift mindsets about humans as soon as possible- the human that he was to be Guardian too wouldn't die in the few minutes it took to get there.

Ah well, if they didn't survive that long then Dot didn't want them as a Charge anyways.

His umbrella tapped one of the passing trees lightly, to feel the echo of magic in the area and get a better feel for the danger and the possible allies in the area. It was a simple trick that worked a lot like throwing a stone into a pond and watching the ripples. It wouldn't work as well in such a heavily saturated area but a hazy idea was better than no idea. And it wasn't like Bill was going to take the precautions they needed.

Letting the influx of information flow threw him, Dot leaned his umbrella back against his upper right corner and allowed himself one moment to wonder if this idea (bet the back of his mind whispered before he set it aside to ignore) would work out the way that he believe.

Bill did have the bad habit of surprising him even after all of these centuries, though Dot figured that the dream demon thought it was a good habit. Seeing as it was one of their many choices of banter over the decades, Dot was confident in that hypothesis that was really more of a theory at that point.

The demon tilted his head lightly as his magic seemed to hit an edge and he wondered if they'd be able to leave if they needed to. Something to look into when he got the chance because, again, it was doubtful that Bill would do it. Gathering the information that they needed- they because it was Bill and Dot, because Dot couldn't remember a time that Bill wasn't just slightly to his left, because missions done together had a higher success rate than those without- wasn't something that Bill did.

Dot was fine with that honestly. Information was better done when organized and done with a professional hand, and the chance to get away from the chaos that Bill generated shouldn't be take for granted.

The demon's mind slipped quietly into his working mindset, checklists of what needed to be done lining up neatly and in order of propriety and importance cross referenced with which would be most useful and with which would most likely be interrupted by his best friend (a force never to be underestimated). Which meant that he started to drift through the trees rather than around them, body moving on auto-pilot.

"An interesting challenge this shall be," he murmured, "Interesting indeed."

~~

Dipper shouldered the bag he was carrying to a more comfortable height and tried not to feel so bored. He had been looking forward to trying to unlock the mysteries of one of his favorite video games this summer, or maybe finally proving that Ms. Kimiko who had moved from Japan last year was really an oni.

(He had stayed up four nights in a row doing research on them before Mom and Dad had started giving him Looks and Mabel had managed to shuffle him into bed. He didn't get what they were so worried about, it wasn't like he had chewed through his shirt that time, or throw salt in the face of the neighbor that he had thought was possessed. Besides! If she was an oni then they needed to be on the lookout!

Apparently they ate misbehaving children, which Dipper wasn't confident that he and Mabel weren't so he had to be ready. Just in case.)

But he hadn't been allowed to pack any of his games, only some of his books which had been fine for part of the ride- the part that he wasn't joking around with Mabel- but they wouldn't last him all summer. And reading only took him so far. He wanted to be doing something!

Not to mention that they barely knew their Great-uncle Stanford. He almost never left the tourist trap that he ran, and what Dipper did know of him lined up to be an old crotchety greedy jerk.

So yeah, Dipper was bored and wasn't looking forward to his summer.
Last edited by SocialBookWorm on September 24th, 2017, 9:07:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Every Square a Rectangle, Not every Rectangle a Triangle

Postby Kattata » September 24th, 2017, 9:03:21 pm

hurr durr bill and mabel doin' stuff :derp: :derp: :derp:

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Re: Every Square a Rectangle, Not every Rectangle a Triangle

Postby Kattata » September 24th, 2017, 11:47:52 pm

((hurr durr hurr))

Sinistra: Originally the word meant, simply, 'left'.

Later, it expanded to include a curious connotation: evil. wicked. untrustworthy.

Left-handed children were beaten until they learned to write with their right hands; left-hand pathways were largely shunned, leading to an unexpected revolution in civic planning long before the word 'civic' had been created to birth the seven-headed dragon that would go on to become 'bureaucracy'.

Was it possible that it could have arisen in the fabric of the subconscious, ancestral human mind due to the preferred placement of a certain square-shaped demon and his triangular associate?

Could a triangle possessing not one, not two, but three sides have affected popular opinion of that number in a similar way?

Probably not, sorry. Writers generally object to themes dovetailing in this fashion, but if you gaze at your navel long enough, you start picking out galaxies in your pubic hair, so no one could fault you for this.

(... at least not in good conscience.)

"This is," Bill declared, "some whack shit right here, Matrix-my-man. Look! Look at that tree!"

A man, strolling by the tree in question, smoking; a bit of ash dropped onto a bit of leaf-litter and began to smoulder.

"And that! Look at the struggle-buggy!"

It was a car; its driver, peering at the device in their hand, drove it up over the curb, where it summarily struck the fire hydrant. Metal pinged off a shop-window, shattering it, and an alarm shrilled somewhere.

"I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING!" Bill cackled, without the telltale wreathing of blue flames that would bely his words. "It's the goddamn environment doing it FOR me. The latent weirdness is incredi— hah!"

He'd caught sight of a little dog standing on the sidewalk where two streets met. It was small, and short-furred, and staring in eye-bulging horror at the two demons as they drifted along; the human by its side was snapping pictures on another little handheld device, taking pictures of the tree, in glorious heralding flame against the midday sun.

"Look at that!" Bill crowed. "Looks like a walnut with an asshole. Hey, d'you think it's edible?" He twirled the cane thoughtfully around one noodly black arm, once, twice; then he pointed it at the little dog like a marksman lining up a shot. "Fifty yards, would you say? Twenty points? Seventy-five? A hundred!"

~~~

"This is," Mabel declared, "crazy-awesome, Dip-dop!"

Mabel leaned over her brother's shoulder, not yet even out of the bus and already gawking everywhere, like a squirrel with a cocaine habit. "Look at that eensy little store, it's so cute! And we passed a coffee shop back there that had a redheaded baristaaa~"

She elbowed her twin, the angelic smile—as though butter would not melt in her cherubic mouth—belying a certain wicked twinkle in her chocolatey-brown eyes. "I know you go for those types, so don't try to deny it! You're not pulling the polyester over my eyes again!"

The girl hesitated only as they reached the front; this was to grin in a fashion she felt was suggestive at the bus driver, a young man that was only slightly older than he looked (and he looked about sixteen, with that crop of pimples), who felt ... well, weird.

But definitely not aroused-weird: rather as though several of his rights had been infringed upon. He sped away as quickly as he could manage to shut the doors of the bus behind them, with a hydraulic whine of effort.

"Well!" said Mabel, standing straighter and looking around. "That went well. Didn't that go well? I think that went real well. Hey, d'you remember what Grunkle Stan looks like? There're a lot of old people here ..."

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Re: Every Square a Rectangle, Not every Rectangle a Triangle

Postby SocialBookWorm » September 25th, 2017, 12:47:59 am

Dot paused, broken out of his musings- as he always would be- by Bill's words, and his eye became comically round. "I've changed my mind," he said, almost panicked, "We can take a different assignment- fuck wait no, we have too many demerits for the decade already- you're not doing any of this Bill?"

Because weirdness magnet or not, there was no way this amount of chaos was natural. Fuck entropy and Bill's crowing voice about chaos being the state of the universe. Order was simply better. It made more sense, it made things easier, and for the sake of this assignment, it made things safer. "Why isn't anyone doing anything about this?" He complained, before clearing his throat and straightening out his hat.

"Don't flash fry anything," he added as an afterthought, "We're going to be here for awhile and an investigation would be troublesome." He paused for a moment, then added, "And Seventy-five obviously, I thought you knew your limits."

His eye scanned the crowd and settled on the small pair of grub- humans, humans that stood at the edge of the small town slowly. He caught on the girl like the pull of a magnet and if he had a mouth it would have been curling, slowly, lazily like the feline forms his partner was so inclined to take. "And the games begin," he murmured to himself, marveling in the fact that lesser forms such as these could have come up with the magnificent Sherlock Holmes.

Intelligent and without any of the messy complex emotions, and one person that he cared about above all others. Dot approved.

He hooked Bill with the handle of his umbrella, idly and without thought, the move habit after years of his best friend simply not following along to the next part of their job. Working always had let him ignore the rampant chaos that tagged at Bill's heels like starving dogs, and he would simply do that once more. Because not even Bill was so dense as to miss the point of this (at least he hoped so, a heavy weight of a simple sentence- I'll make you a bet- in the back of his head.)

There was a feeling building in him, as he got closer to the kids, not quite the power that he- craved, needed, worked for- figured would mean that he'd never have to-

-his magic was nearing it's limits, but Dot ignored the feeling and swung his umbrella once more, turning away from the flames and screams that followed the motion, arm reaching out to snatch his partner from the ground.

A part of him cursed at the fact that he couldn't shape-shift like the dream demon, limbs stretching and bending without end, but he made do with his standard telekinesis, dragging the two of them to a nearby cave. They didn't bleed, thank god, or Dot would have to worry about Bill's injuries even more, but it was already flashing worryingly, and that golden eye wasn't focusing on him.

"No!" Bill's voice cracked suddenly, and Dot's magic flared sluggishly, ready to fry anything else that appeared, but nothing did. Thin black limbs flailed, and Dot grit his metaphorical teeth, turning to set up the barrier that they badly, needed because he didn't have the
power to do anything about an illusion,
"I won't go back! I won't! I won't I won't!
-

-well, it didn't matter why, in the end.

What mattered at that moment was the mop of brown hair bouncing it's way at the edge the crowd with another small figure at her side. Dot ignored the second one, it- they didn't matter at the moment, not with that feeling just out of reaching and building in his form. The other child said something, defensive and embarrassed, as they shoved at her and Dot had to squash down on the protective urges already demanding recompense.

(A co-worker had thought taunting Bill with the Nightmare Realm out of the triangle's hearing had been a good idea.

They were no longer a co-worker)

The other grub was most likely Bill's and that meant they were at least marginally important. He was supposed to be responsible one and if he couldn't keep himself from flash frying anyone who looked at the girl funny then he'd be Bill.

He spun his umbrella, letting go of Bill and floated down in front of the children. Fascinating creatures for all that they were lesser.
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Re: Every Square a Rectangle, Not every Rectangle a Triangle

Postby Kattata » September 25th, 2017, 11:23:22 pm

Unwanted—unwarranted—unwonted guilt poked Bill like a bored sibling.

He was not a loving creature. Demons were not built to love—they could, perhaps, grudgingly, learn it, if the reward was great enough—but it would always be that: learned behavior, coming unnaturally, awkwardly, like a dog learning to dance on its hind legs.

But ol' Floppy Disc had been a constant in

(almost, a faint voice whispered traitorously from the deepest back-country of Bill's twisty mind, and fuck if this wasn't an unanticipated and entirely unwelcome side-effect of all that delicious weirdness roaring all around them, a great frothing tide; he shoved it back, shoved it under, and buckled grimly down, aware that if he just kept it together he could ride the crest of this mania with no further expenditure of energy on his part)—

Matrix had been a constant in all Bill's long, long existence, and Bill did not make friends easily. (Or, usually, at all: friends were just chess-pieces that had gotten uppity, and like a mouthy '50s housewife, needed a good backhand to remind them of the natural order. This mentality did not make him popular at parties.)

You owed a guy like that something, Bill figured. So he admitted, a little sheepishly, "Well, I'm catalyzing it, maybe." It was not possible, drifting along in midair, to perform a hangdog-shuffle, but Bill gave it the good ol' college try anyway. "Y'know, just sorta ... shaping what's already there?"

He managed to project a winning smile, quite a feat for someone who possessed neither lips nor teeth nor tongue.

The shrill screaming of the alarm cut out abruptly, leaving in its wake a throbbing silence, broken only by Bill's scoffing, "Seventy-five yards! Pshhhh, says you. If you don't push yourself, how are you ever gonna improve?"

No one living heard the sizzle and snap, and the brief zap of blue light did not register within the spectrum perceivable by human eyes; the man holding the little dog's leash scrolled through the photos he'd snapped, took a step forward— then stopped, glancing back.

Little wisps of smoke curled upward from the inert little body. One bulging eyeball had ruptured altogether, dribbling down the thing's cheek, past black lips wrenched back in a sick rictus—

The brief silence was filled again, but this time by a human scream.

"Mmm! I think I'm gonna like it here," said Bill brightly. He felt immensely better.

~~~

A couple blocks away, Mabel was still peering alertly around, playing I-Spy, if the object of I-Spy was to make wild guesses based on the clothing and posture of old people in varying states of ripeness.

"Could be that one," Mabel pointed out, indicating a woman wrapped up in shawls and a tall black hat, decorated with a number of wax fruit (including a whole pineapple!), like some bizarre cornucopia gone horribly wrong.

"Maybe Grunkle Stan's a vigilante and he's hiding from the law and that's why he's up here in boring Oregon—boring-gon, am I right? See, I can make nerd jokes too, and bro-bro, you owe me your Capri Sun—because Grunkle Stan's in the witness protection program and oh my gosh are you guys fairies?"

She was staring fervently upwards, hands clasped together and dark eyes shining with enthusiastic belief, like a very small, sparkly, and violently pink Joan of Arc.

"Have you come to take us on a magical adventure? Dipper, Dipper look—"

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Re: Every Square a Rectangle, Not every Rectangle a Triangle

Postby SocialBookWorm » September 25th, 2017, 11:58:25 pm

Dot's one eye paused in studying the human that would be his Charge and his whole body twitched as if he was going to stare at Bill. He stopped himself because, goddamn it, he didn't know why he expected different. He sniffed imperiously, haughtily and poked right back at his partner. "Well," he paused, "It's rather easy to cause chaos. Now order, you have to put some real effort into that."

"Not," he admired his nails for a moment, "That you'd actually ever do that."

Bill had in fact put effort into things before, but one- acknowledging such would mean that the dream demon would never shut up about it. Two- acknowledging would also mean acknowledging the few times that Bill had most likely cared and that would always, always end badly. Finally- Dot could be just as petty as his partner, and niceness wasn't really how the two of them rolled. There were small things instead.

Small moments that you'd have to look for, that you'd have to be on the inside to tell were there. They were kind to each other, occasionally, Dot more than Bill (being less damaged over all, being more open and more moral for all that meant when compared to someone who ended worlds) but they were never nice. For Dot, being nice meant exposing a weakness, something he already had too many of.

He forcefully wrenched himself away from Bill, partly because the demon would hate that attention hog that he was and swung his umbrella. "Oh I desperately hope that we're not," he mused, "The last fairy I met tried to skin me alive and Duane got so upset about the way that I finished that mission. I don't see why though. That species wasn't contributing anything to the world anyways. I did them a favor wiping them out and all."

"Though I have heard rumors about this world's fae. Perhaps if you weren't adverse to losing your soul you could visit them and return alive, but I would dearly hope that isn't a goal of yours. It would make my job dreadfully harder."

~~

Dipper rolled his eyes at Mabel's babble, opening his mouth to point out just what was wrong with her theory- if it could even be called that- when the strange shapes floated down in front of them. The square seemed more focused on Mabel than him, and Dipper shuffled half a step forward to put Mabel a little behind him.

And he was immediately torn.

Because on one hand- MYSTERIES, and HOLY CRAP and Mabel MABEL Look LOOK the supernatural right in front of us I KNEW that things weren't what they looked like! HA! HA! Take that all you trolls on the internet Dipper Pines was the victor in this fight.

On the other- HOLY CRAP the supernatural was right in front of THEM and that couldn't be good without more information.

"I'm looking Mabel," he said finally, and reached out for her hand. "Though you know not all fairy myths are positive-" He stopped and gaped as the square started to talk about what- and Dipper was honestly hoping it wasn't true, because he wasn't sure how far they could run.

Morbidly, he couldn't help but ask, "You wiped them all out? How could you be sure? World? Are you aliens? And job? What job are you talking about?" The questions were rapid fire and the only thing that kept him from digging out some paper to take notes was Mabel right behind him. He took a deep breath and reminded himself to focus (because Mabel certainly wouldn't). He eyed the two shapes warily and added, "And who are you?"
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