I like the implications of Bill apparently not drawing any yellow triangles in his therapy pictures. Whether it means anything or not, when kids draw family pictures, they want to draw themselves too, they are the part of the family, right? But he draws just Red and Blue. As if a happy picture of them is one where he never existed. I am overthinking it it course.
AUGH ANON YOU GOT ME THINKING.
What if like. Okay so we know he and his family were from a 2 Dimensional world, Euclydia. He only draws red and blue triangles, who are likely his parents. Yellow triangles are nowhere to be seen. Maybe it’s supposed to be a happy picture without him
But. But he’s the yellow triangle. He’s still from Euclydia. In most respects, he’s still 2D
So maybe. Maybe instead he’s trying to recreate the environment. Maybe he’s putting himself back with them in the only way he can.
He only draws red and blue triangles… because the yellow triangle is already there
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ok but Izzy losing it at the figurehead because it COULDNT DO ITS FUCKING JOB vs ed talking gently to the door latch because it’s not its fault it’s broken it was just trying to do its job
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You're watching a random movie with Mammon that turns out to have some horror elements in it. Neither of you knew this beforehand, you only skimmed the movie's description, but Mammon's not going to chicken out now. He needs to look cool in front of you. It's just a stupid movie. It's fine.
A minor jump scare halfway through the film leaves him rattled. He holds on to you tightly, quietly cursing how high quality the special effects are. It's fine, though. Really. It is.
He even offers to hold you if you're scared.
This gives Mammon an excuse to hide behind you. Perhaps this was his original aim. The two of you quickly work out a new seating arrangement on the couch. He moves you in front of him, encouraging you to lean back against him if there's not enough room to sit between his legs. You wonder how much of your head obscures the screen.
Several minutes pass in this state. You are having a very difficult time concentrating on the film. A certain someone has his arms wrapped around your chest like a flotation device.
"Hey, Mammon?" you whisper.
"Yeah?"
"It's really hard to watch the movie."
You feel him shift a little in the seat. He asks, "Wanna turn it off and do somethin' else?"
"No, can you just move your arms?"
Mammon grunts and makes no effort to even change position. There's a pause, as if he's thinking about it, before he sighs into your neck.
"No can do," he says. "Dunno what else this movie has in store, and I don't want your fragile little human heart givin' out on me if it gets worse."
Certainly, with the way his hands were gripping at you like a weak stress ball, Mammon could probably feel every pulse of your heartbeat.
"Okay, but this is a human movie. Made by humans. For humans." You really emphasize that last bit.
"Yeah, but we borrowed it from Satan. Who knows what kind of sick tastes he has?"
You laugh. The way your upper body briefly swells as you inhale and then shrinks back down as you laugh, and the way he can feel every shake when you exhale, makes Mammon's heart flutter.
"Come on. I can't even snack like this," you plead.
There was zero chance Mammon was letting you go after the treat you just gave him. His head is already in the clouds.
"How are you gonna watch the movie if you're busy snackin'?" he counters, as if either of you still had any idea what was happening on-screen.
"I just want to be able to breathe again. You're so greedy," you tell him. You would slump your shoulders in defeat if that were possible at all with Mammon clinging to your chest from behind.
"Damn right I am."
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