#i stand by this theory because for as angry and violent monty is

[local-diavolo-anon]

i apologise if i'm posting this much about the DLC but i am very excited

so theory time! this time about Glamrock Bonnie!

someone found Glamrock Bonnie in bonnie bowl and someonw else got his pieces from the gamefiles and stuck the model back together (the images are not mine, i have no idea who even psoted them ebcause they've been reposted a crapload of times, but i know the originals came from twitter)

i feel a bit sad than logically he was there the whole time during the main game as well and we simply couldn't see him

but also: He has claw marks on his chest, which i think pretty much confirms that monty is the one that broke him apart.

however. that's not nearly enough damage to decommission a glamrock animatronic, as we have seen.

hell monty looks like this in the dlc and he is still kicking (probably by the power of god tho) and i remember seeing THIS video some time ago, so let me bring you something a bit painful:

most people i've seen pinpoin monty's actions toward bonnie as envy and resentment, however in monty golfs whenever we see character cutouts or holograms Freddy is the one in the shadows, always. wouldn't have made it more sense for monty to try and attack someone he quite clearly disliked instead of bonnie? we know freddy and bonnie were close, so with some stretch you could even say monty was jealous of freddy's relationship with bonnie (but i'm not going to account that here) If the theory from that video is true and bonnie was the first and only trial test of the grlitchtrap virus on a full glamrock animatronic, what if monty noticed? what if monty saw that bonnie was acting weird, and when confronted him realized something was severely wong for a reason or another? and either to prevent the spread of the virus, OR simply out of self preservation he was forced to fight with bonnie? because if the mimic were to see someone noticed him, he'd likely try and make them disappear in one way or another so my theory-timeline is: Bonnie was infected, started acting weird, wandered around and ultimately ended in monty golf, monty saw him and went to him, then noticed something was wrong, bonnie attacked him to make sure nobody knew, and monty had to defend himself.

i'm fairly sure this is at least somewhat correct because Monty's claws can do some serious damage, and definitely more than what Bonnie's torso and head show. (edit: yes even without upgrade, Monty still has very big and sharp claws, realistically they could totally do that amount of damage, + in the original draft of the game, from Monty you were supposed to take his legs, and the claw upgrade was not a thing at all, yet it was always hinted he did caused bonnie's decommission)

all of this to say that bonnie more likely was decommissioned not because of the damage, but rather because because when technicians tried to fix him they noticed something had infected him, and to prevent any further spreading they were forced to deactivate him.

[olympus-summit]

The Song I Heard In A Full Moon Laboratory | Shinobu | Trial 5.6 | ATTN: Leland, Monty

[ CW: Unreality, repetition, discussion of suicide ]

Truthfully, Shinobu expected something more fiery and violent in the aftermath of the suggestion this was all according to Sol’s plan. They expected Evren to go over and slug Monty for that, and if not for the callout on the statues it would have been a relief to see the almost civil rebuttals from both of them.

What they do not expect is the cold-burning venom in Adelina’s voice, They do not expect it directed at Leland so suddenly (of course Shinobu knew her theories, but it didn't seem like she was centering in on this one), and they especially don’t expect it directed at Sol. And… and they realize: Adelina does not hesitate to act upon her pain. She does not hesitate to condemn. She’d spoken lowly of Elliott, but now she was dismissing any reason Leland might still have lingering feelings for him. Not just that, but she is clearly – justifiably, but bluntly – angry at the idea that Sol might’ve gone behind her back, and angry at him if it turns out to be truth.

(Are her principles that much stronger than her loyalty? Then again, who is Shinobu to question that? Who is Shinobu to try and judge someone who’s so much stronger than they ever were and can stand their ground? Shinobu had been too loyal, loyal enough to let someone build and destroy and rebuild their self-worth, again and again and again and)

(And who is Shinobu?)

“When...?”

It’s easily lost in the deluge – it’s a late response to an offhand comment from Monty, and he is correct (no matter how much the council might hate it) that it isn’t something they should talk about right now. But it is a reminder – he is a reminder – and Shinobu thinks to silver flowers and source code and distorted constellations and feels sick all over again.

The argument intensifies: Leland makes the accusation Shinobu was certain no one would dare make, and even though it is easily countered it is a crossed line that cannot be reversed, and the back-and-forth begins. Evren’s comment is the only thing that breaks the stalemate, and… and it…

And it is much worse than Shinobu had imagined.

Oh, sure, there is the little silver lining that it appeared Sol truly wasn’t aware of his death by hanging, too overcome by the deadly cocktail. But he was aware of everything before it, and he knew what this would do to everyone, especially the one that loves (loved?) him most. He knew what breaking his promise and sacrificing his life to an experiment, a theory would do – is doing – to the tattered remains of the council.

And! To suggest that they must fail, that they must let Leland go free and sacrifice another in his place, all for the grand hypothesis that could very well be wrong… Did he have so much faith in them? In himself? Did he believe so deeply in his claim that the dead were alive and the impossible was possible that he would put everyone through this just to find the proof? What if he was wrong? Then wouldn’t it all be for nothing?

What if he was right? What if everything is for nothing? The flowers, the stars, the numbers, every one of them is—

Sol’s death would not be the salve they needed to heal and come together as one. His death was just one more wound to add to the festering number the council collected.

(‘Because we’re humans,’ Sol had insisted again and again and again in his letter. But, no, if he really had dug so deep for information, didn’t he consider that—?)

(Or maybe this was all because he’d considered it?)

(Shinobu remembers one of their aimless mumbles during the luncheon just before it all crashed and burned: They had speculated on if there was another floor to the airship. Had that driven Sol to the brink? Was that the moment he decided to find this mythical area or die trying?)

(As usual, as it often is, it’s Shinobu who mucks everything up for everyone else.)

The explosion Shinobu anticipated finally ignites, as does the vest meant to be a memento.

Shinobu revises their earlier opinion: Of course Adelina is loyal! She values it so very, very much, and Sol had betrayed her trust, even knowing all the ways it’d hurt her, to pursue an ill-advised plan of martyrdom. He’d avoided her, avoided all the people he was on even vaguely friendly terms with, because… what? Was he afraid someone might talk him out of it? Come up with a different plan? Gather everyone for an intervention?

It’s so outrageously negligent that Shinobu has to wonder if even this letter is a cover for some deeper emotion of Sol’s, something so simultaneously hopeless and hopeful that death was the only way forward he believed he had. And if he did – and if he did – it recontextualizes everything, but still doesn’t change the impact.

The torrent grows ever stronger and the memory of why they are even gathered here to begin with begins to slip away. But some words linger, and when people start posing reprimands and questions to Leland, one thing burns in Shinobu’s mind, and in their throat as they force out a word.

“Peacock.”

Oh, what a useless thing to ask about now! Who cared about a little scratch on a statue when there was a dead man, a dying man, and half a dozen broken hearts? But a mystery was a mystery, and the show must go on!

The show must go on. Shinobu is an athlete, but they are also a performer. Hot lights and suffocating clothes and aching blisters and cheering, jeering voices – all something that they had learned to endure as long as needed to get through a performance.

(again and again and again and again and)

Shinobu knows mechanically what to do. They rise from their dazzling throne, iRis and notebook clattering to the floor, and blindly reach to their side until they feel straw. Leland is… somewhere on the other side of the room, right? They can’t recall the shortest route and, without thinking (without thinking) they end up taking the long way around the southern side of the room. Their strides are short and shuffling, their posture is guarded, their straw doll is only barely held in a loose grip.

It wouldn’t have mattered what direction they walked in, anyway. They only make it past about three altars before they misstep – one knee buckling, unprepared for the shift in weight as they walk – and they go down just before reaching Nezumi’s altar. They catch themself just in time to land on their knees, but their legs are at such an awkward angle that getting up would take more effort than it’s worth. They’ll get up, they have no choice but to get back up (again and again), but for now they are stuck, their breathing so sharp it could slice right out of their chest.

They lift their head and find the anomalous throne in the room, sticking out apart from the circle. They find the anomaly himself, who’s still very much alive and is proof of just how thoroughly fucked the Summit is. Has someone told him yet? Has he figured it out already?

Shinobu isn’t even looking directly at Monty, but rather in his vague direction. There is no sign of hostility on their face – just a hollow desperation for an answer, even an uncertain one. Even a lie. Please, they think, lie if you have to. I’ll understand.

They must have started speaking, by the way their lips move. It is so quiet, it’s almost lost entirely to a mumble. But any iRises still on manage to decipher the words and list out a translation everyone can understand:

“What year is it?”