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briebysabs · 1 year ago

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Since I am such a normal individual I’ve decided to attempt breaking down vanoé’s character song “Le Formidable”. I don’t hear much talk about it but the lyrics are just as cryptic and wild as the OP/ED.

Before we get into it, in terms of translation, I could only find one on YouTube that thankfully color-coded the lyrics so I could decipher who sings what. If anyone has any other translations, I’d love to know please. So a bunch of the lines you can kinda figure out who’s singing but here’s how it’s gonna be:

Vanitas =💙

Noé =💜

Vanoe= 💙💜

Simple enough let’s get into it :)

💜: /I want to stay in bed feeling the warmth of the sun and drift in and out of this sweet dream/

Already we’ve mentioned dreaming, a running theme in this song. There is the well-known line Teacher says in chapter 55...

Sleeping, specifically in regards to Noé, is something mochijun makes the audience take note. He can’t sleep without holding something. When he can’t fall asleep, it is highlighted like the night Vanitas rejected Noé drinking his blood. He doesn’t want Vanitas to disappear and I personally like how in the recent chapter, Vanitas stays by his side for a while. Almost like callback to that moment on the train but I’m getting carried away. You get the correlation I’m making, it’ll get very important later on.

We also have those warmth and sun connections to Noé, a large part of his character and Vanitas’ gravitation towards him.

💙: /With this grey weather today, this day will go by without any harmony/

We see Vanitas’ pessimistic outlook on life; grey, cloudy, devoid of color. Devoid of comfort and obviously these two contrasting people will clash but mix together throughout the song.

💜: /Tarte Tatin, Altus Paris! Endless interesting things!/

💙: /It’s always like this! Here and there, endlessly losing sight./

This seems pretty straightforward, Noé is getting distracted by all the wonderful things as usual and Vanitas chastises him. But let’s frame this another way, Noé is choosing to not focus. It’s simpler that way. He’s turning his focus elsewhere to better things, more pleasant things. And Vanitas is trying to wake him up. I’ll explain more in my theory soon.

💜: /What to look for today from this city/

💙: /Ah with all these things/

💙💜: /There is no time to rest/

Simple lyrics here. No comment.

💙💜: /Le formidable! Le formidable! It’s really easy. Just colliding, rolling down, and repeating again/

Here we are entering the chorus. There’s a common thread of repetition in every OP and ED in VnC. Like clockwork, these two have fallen into this pattern.

Colliding- Vanoé meeting, two worlds learning how to come together, joining as one

Rolling down- their downfall, incoming despair and tragedy

Repeating again- they find themselves back where they started, fated to be born and to die

Let me say the first part of my theory and keep this in the back of your head while remembering the lyrics: VnC is not a time loop in the traditional sense but rather a loop of memories. Also keep in mind the first ED Zero: “Now I remember, oh I have never lived a day without you. Untie the layer of memories...”

💙: /This worthless-/

💜: /wonderful-/

💙💜: /world we are walking on. Even not knowing is sometimes nice, right?/

Again, vanoé with different outlooks on life meet each other. But more importantly, we see the display of ignorance or blissful unawareness. We the audience have a vague idea on how this story ends and in a way, so do they. Vanitas knows very well he is doomed and has already entrusted Noé to end his life if it comes to it. But we also don’t know the specifics of their downfall and neither do they.

So this line has a double meaning that refers to the characters and the reader. As yeah it is nice to read vnc and enjoy the happy moments without knowing the painful details of what’s to come.

💜: /Over there something is flapping their wings/

💙: /And these uncountable days pass by. It’s not worth worrying about. So many unknown things, without meaning/

💜: /Escalier! I want to see the bright colors beyond!/

Noé, again giving his attention to supposedly insignificant things as Vanitas tends to see the larger picture, not caring for the mundane. Uncountable days can be matched with the grey weather mentioned earlier. But that also means things are murky, blur together, cloudy. They don’t make sense to Vanitas (such as love, his self-worth, the nature within people) while Noé wants to experience all the brightness of the world.

💙: /I told you to be quiet today, yet here we are!/

💜: /Now you loud person!/

💙💜: /I told you I hardly have time to breathe/

So, hypothetical scenario if we take this song literal: Vanoé is exploring the city because Noe wanted to Vanitas couldn’t say no. Vanitas is fed up and Noé thinks his complaints are aggravating. But this part shows a lack of understanding. They’re yelling about their own hardships but don’t see the other’s perspective.

💙💜: /Le formidable! Le formidable! It’s a simple thing. It’s just finding, losing sight and repeating again/

💜: /I want to dream/

💙: /It’s just a dream/

💙💜: /The world keep walking while not knowing the truth at this point/

Ok there’s a lot to dig our teeth in here. First of all, the finding, losing sight, repeating is another way of describing the colliding and rolling down said prior. Vanoe find each other, they lose each other, it’s fated to happen all over again. Now the big piece here, I want to dream/It’s just a dream. Surface-level interpretation > another instance of their differences. Noé wants be surrounded by dreams and wonder. While Vanitas looks at that beauty and scoff at it, since it isn’t real therefore not worth caring for. But if we read into this carefully, Noé wants to dream. He wants to stay in these memories, he doesn’t want to live in a world without Vanitas.

Let’s go back to OP 1: “I love this world and the light only you give me.”

We know OP 1 is Noe’s POV so let’s ask ourselves why would the Noé we are seeing, the one smiling at all the colors of the world say Vanitas is the only light he has (emphasis on “only”). Because the Noé singing the first OP is operating with far more knowledge and despair. We don’t know the truth at this point. “This world” is not real.

Allow me to offer what I think is happening. Noé and Vanitas meet, they go on this journey of understanding, trust, and love, Vanitas reaches his end and is killed by Noé. Noé lives on. We can tell the Noé writing this story is full of regret and sadness. But why is he writing this all down? He’s retelling the memories, putting them down physically on paper. Two things happened:

a) He exchanged his name with Naenia, wishing to remain in a world with Vanitas in it. Because that wish is still very present, Naenia has great interest in Noé. She mentions seeing him before in Louis but it could be a classic mochijun misdirect and it’s actually from receiving his name in a different iteration. There is that official art with Noé wearing Vanitas’ coat with that goat entity he saw in Gevaudan, pinned to his vest.

However this can only work if Naenia is still around and isn’t resolved/defeated in the memoirs.

b) This is more likely in my opinion. Noé uses the Books and the memoirs act as a catalyst for him to have the world become his memories or for him to live in them. I know only those with blue blood or something can use the books.

Which is why Dr. Moreau had those experiments with Vanitas and Misha. Don’t worry, I already have a theory that Archivistes are some form of blue moon vampires but that is a whole other discussion. Point is, I think the Books of Vanitas are like an Elliot sword situation. Yes, Elliot owns the Nightray sword and carries it around but you don’t know its true purpose in the story until Leo wields it.

Noé causes these memories to replay, perhaps to save Vanitas or simply to dream again. Go back to when he was last happy. But here’s the thing, the Noé in this memory is unaware or ignorant of this, sees his present world as the real one and undergoes the events of the series. Vanitas dies, he lives on, and creates a memory world for himself. Rinse, recycle, repeat. Essentially, the first ED gave it away. The entirety of VnC is a layer of memories. Even the narrator Noé we are hearing is a memory that is trying to manifest a world of his own.

Reality and dreams are all intertwined now and Noé got lost in it. There are leaks in the cracks, for example when Vanitas cries and tells Luna his mother died at childbirth why would he call to her. Initially, you can read this as he’s just missing what he never had. But what if Vanitas’ mother was present in his life 9 memory loops ago but because these memories get further from the truth the more it happens, Noé simply forgot that detail when making the memoirs at some point in time. So now, in the memory layer #52 Vanitas has no mother.

💜: /We will see what we “cannot see”/

💙: /We will know what we “don’t know”/

💙💜: /The final stop of this world that seems to be changing, seems only further ahead/

Noe’s line possibly goes into his Archiviste nature and how he experiences reading memories. It can as well build back into the dream/memory loop thing, he’s seeing things he can no longer “see.”

Vanitas’ line can be drawn to what Noé said during their fight.

Vanitas acts like he has the final word and has a full grasp of how this world/himself works. But he really doesn’t and Noé is living proof of that, proving him wrong on several occasions that there’s still hope, they can’t give up yet, he won’t leave him etc. The final stop of this world is changing, but it’s further ahead. This is a story, a preserved section of time from the past. We gotta ask ourselves... why would the last stop be changing? Again, Vanitas’ death is the final stop but it’s changing, perhaps from the countless iterations we’ve gone through Noé writes the memoirs in a way that delays the ending. So he could remain just a little longer…

💙💜: /Le formidable! Le formidable! Everything is fine. While forgetting, hiding, and repeating it/

💙: /This worthless/

💜: /wonderful/

💙💜: /world we are walking on/

💙: /I don’t know but even so/

💜: /If it can make you smile.../

After this, it ends the song by repeating the first chorus with the colliding-rolling down part so I’ll make this the cutting point. The “everything is fine” totally doesn’t stick out in a story where we know everything will not be fine. The forgetting and hiding goes back to my dream-memory theory, Noé is hiding from the truth in these stacks upon stacks of memories and is possibly forgetting things as they really happened as a result. We already know he isn’t the most reliable narrator. But Noé wants to see Vanitas’ smile.

If it can make you smile again, if it can replay your laughter, why would I ever leave this wonderful lie? In OP 1: “Your laughing was reflected by a daydream”.

I’ll conclude this by saying two things. If you want to get even deeper, you can interpret Vanitas in this song as the voice in the back of Noé’s head. Its just a dream, this world is actually worthless, and Noé is trying to drown out those thoughts. Because yeah they sing lines together but the only time they’re directly speaking to each other is when Vanitas scolds Noé and Noé shouts back, calling him loud. Finally, I could be wrong in all this. I am aware how crazy I may look and I'm so thankful if you read this far.

But yeah if this is anywhere near canon, mochijun must be the most unhinged, absolutely cracked author I’ve ever seen. We’re going into Pandora Hearts levels of intricacy here. I hope you enjoyed my insanity 👍🏼

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mixelation · 4 months ago

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I recently read Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer! I was a bit skeptical of it because I really disliked the movie, and the reasons people said the book was far superior had very little to do with why I disliked the movie. However, I found the book pretty engaging. The prose seems a little rigid at first, but you get used to it as a stylistic choice to reflect the voice of the POV character pretty quickly. I thought the pacing was pretty good and sense of suspense well done, and as a result I read it in about two sittings (which is fast for me lol).

Annihilation is about a team of four women entering the mysterious Area X, a deserted zone of "ecological disaster." Their team's goal seems to be to explore the area, but as the story progresses, we learn a lot of information has been withheld and the expedition's true purpose is unclear. Area X is a sort of supernatural-meets-scifi area of strange occurrences: there's a strange wailing of unknown origin at night, the narrator character (a biologist) is constantly noting strange fungus-like growths, there's ~unknowable~ creatures wandering around. Oh, and it's also the sort of story where all the characters are slowly losing their minds for various reasons. I've seen the genre described as horror, although I'd describe the mood as vaguely unsettling rather than frightening.

My main complaint about the movie was that, IIRC, a lot of it leaned heavily on unknown-biology-as-horror and very poor biological explanations. The book isn't like this: the POV character specializes in "transitional environments," by which I think it's meant she's a community ecologist interested in ecological succession or else how environmental perturbances alter ecology. So there's a lot of prose of her describing ecological communities, both real ones and the almost-supernatural ones of Area X, but it's done without the infuriating attempts at an "explanation" which makes no sense, nor is discovering a new community arising villainized as being horrifying in how unknown it is. In some ways, getting to watch such a new community talk hold is portrayed as soothing to the main character. So in that regard, I enjoyed the novel.

Most of the negative reviews I saw of this book focused on the unreliability of the narrator or the lack of resolution for mysteries encountered. It is very true that the narrator is unreliable and she occasionally admits to withholding information form the reader, or in some places it's not clear if what she describes even really happened or was a hallucination. If you don't like that trope, you will hate this book. If you love unreliable narrators.... I wouldn't call this a stand-out or particularly interesting example, but it sure is unreliable.

Now, given this book is basically all suspense for a building mystery, I did feel throughout the whole read that the end would make or break it. And my conclusion upon finishing it is.... it's fine? I wasn't blown away by the ending, but I wasn't dissatisfied. However, I think you will be very frustrated as a reader if you expect clear-cut explanations, or for every detail to be resolved. The mysteries put forth by this book come in three categories:

the narrator - we get a full character arc with her, and in this regard I found the ending satisfying. again, it's not mind-blowing, but it does feel adequately resolved. you do have to be alright with some ambiguities and making your own conclusions, but i personally like this in a story.

the southern reach - this is the name of the agency organizing the expedition (and the name of the trilogy). Their purpose/goals are unclear, and we become aware rather quickly that they are sending people to gruesome deaths and outright lying to them about it. Personally, I didn't find them that compelling as a mystery, and didn't care to learn more than "they're a generic cryptic agency, you know the type." Some, but not all, of these mysteries will be resolved, and some of those resolutions will just open up more questions, which could be frustrating if you are interested in this element of the plot and are also the type of reader who expects all questions to be answered by the end of a story. Worry not, though-- there's two more books!

Area X itself -- like I said, there's very little attempt to actually explain WTF is going on here and why, although you sort of start to intuit the logic of this strange world. honestly, i feel that "solving" the mystery of Area X is beyond the point of the story (which is about the narrator being obsessed with ecological change but terrified and unwillingly to cope with change in her own life) and trying to shove an explanation into the movie was doomed to fail. it's unclear to me if the subsequent books will get into this or not.

Overall, a pretty good read, would recommend. I might read the other two books one day, but probably not for my next read.

#annihilation #mixed bag #book review

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zabala0z · 3 months ago

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Okay. So. Hi. I’m your host who is rethinking life??? Or just thinking a lot right now, my brain got so much information. I would’ve posted sooner but I needed a couple hours to get my bearings yall ⛹️‍♀️ anyways! The final 4 episodes of TMA s2!!!

I’m not gonna do my usual format but to start with: I knew Elias was a bastard. I knew it, I CALLED IT. I mean it was pretty obvious but I’m just happy I figured it out. Although I’m very destroyed over the fact Sasha is definitely dead. Like I heard Dekker in MAG 78 and even then I was still in denial until Leitner said “yeah no she’s dead”

In MAG 79, I’m mostly pissed at Michael. Like the moment it put Tim and Martin through its creepy ass doors, I was just like full wheezing out of shock. I wheezed a lot today. Michael does not seem to know shit about humans too since it was like “I…I think it’s called a sport”. Love Michael but also stop being so cryptic oh my god. Also Not Sasha was low key horrifying. Like props to Michael and Not!Sashas voice actors because man I have never felt my muscles seize up like I did when hearing them.

Not Sasha mentioned like being sent to the house of its enemy that had the biggest eyes you ever saw. I thought the enemy was the institute but later I found out…no. Oh yeah! Mag 80! What the hell!

Jurgen Leitner being like “yeah my assistants kinda were killed a lot” like okay go supporting boss. I did not predict it was LEITNER who was living in the tunnels. It’s nice he worked with Gertrude though.

Also, these entities. Again, I was vaguely aware of some since their name was thrown around but I didn’t really realize the extent. Jon mentioned Michael and Leitner refers to it as “The Distortion” and that’s its part of “The Spiral”. AND THATS WHERE FRACTALS COME FROM. God.

Also, when Leitner and Elias are talking, Leitner talks about “the Stranger” and Elias asks what they call it which is “The Unknowing”. The last episode, Not Sasha says that Jon will miss the Unknowing but he wouldn’t understand so I’m assuming the replacement things fall under The Stranger

One final thing I noticed was that he mentioned his assistants getting killed on that day of the attack and all the ways they got killed or I dunno attacked, corresponds with different themes from other statements

“Stabbed through the throat by something with too many teeth and weird limbs”- the replacement things (The Stranger)

“Pulled into a cavernous maw that opened beneath her”- I think this is related to The Butchers Window where Jared Hopworth would throw bones down that pit with teeth

“Gregory Todd ran into a door that shouldn’t have been there”- Michael. What are you doing 💀 (The Spiral)

“A great hand reached down through the roof” -I actually don’t know. Thought it was Freefall but misremembered it.

“Pulled into a great, pulsating pile of meat”- literally every episode with a meat theme. (EDIT 9/2/24: this is related to MAG 18 actually!)

“Doors with darkness and doors on fire”- so the cult I think is related to the darkness but with the fire, I know that Burned Out and that statement with Agnes could be related

So I’m guessing every way an assistant like got killed is one of those entities. I know The Vast is somehow related because Michael Crew mentioned that name before throwing himself out the window and then like changing. Guess he’s like a servant now or something?

Oh god that’s most of it. I’m wondering where Jon is now and I hope Tim and Martin don’t like fully believe he murdered a man. Also I swear to god, Elias, if I catch you. Like Leitner was not a super good guy but come on. I’m glad Not Sasha is gone but…my OG girl 😔😔😔

if you got this far in reading me descend down into my little obsession thank you 🫶🫶🫶 like all this is for fun but everyone I talked to in this fandom is so chill and doesn’t try to spoil which is nice. As someone who was in crazy fandoms, this is pretty calm for such a horrifying media. I’ll probably continue these posts for s3 but I’ll try to condense it I swear guys.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma podcast #mag 79 #mag 80 #Zabala0z thoughts #I’ll probably take like a day break to recover from this intense lore drop #JUST FOR HIM TO DIE???#like I’m so pissed because Leitner knows so much and could’ve told more #then Elias and his shitty self decided to kill him #I’m sure he has his reasons #☹️

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hellkitepriest · 5 months ago

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duncan wallis is the cryptic unknowable beast jonathan higgs wants to believe he is. can’t remember where but i’m pretty sure he once said upsilon is about facebook. literally what and how

#hashtag real talk #dutch uncles

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magpod-confessions · 5 months ago

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I'm a huge fan of anything stranger related, it's themes have been a staple of my life, so it fit just right in when I was introduced to TMA. Yet while I was listening, I was a little disappointed to find it felt quite unexplored when it was introduced with the whole unknowing arc. I wish we got more on those who followed it and how they were claimed, similar to how we got an peak into the lives of the followers of the lightness flame. However i do understand how this can also ruin the tension and build up if handled wrong. I just think it would have been so cool to see Jon having a much more cryptic and surreal build to realising that the stranger wants something from him. I also think Nikola is an absolutely great villain, and would have benefitted if they created a bigger reputation for who she is and what she presents, i prefer this idea much more than just her somehow appearing where Jon is. I thought it kinda ruined the moment and the idea of her being this big representer to the stranger. This is my personal opinion however, a quite nit picky one at that. I do still absolutely love the way they handled it, Jonny is a fucking amazing writer.

Further on about Nikola. I also think she's become quite underrated within the fandom to a small extent. Other than that one audio that absolutely EXPLODED in virality, you never see much of her or the stranger, its slowly just sorta fizzled out. However I'm PRAYING for more stranger related stuff upcoming in protocol.

#AGREEED #yea #i love the stranger it did not get enough exploration #magpod #tma #the magnus archives #magpod confession

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thewertsearch · 1 year ago

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TT: We are like the emissaries to what lies beyond this small bubble in their unfathomable dark foam. TT: Derse skirts its edge, and during the lunar eclipse, we graze it, and that's when their intent for us becomes clear.

Is that it, then? You can only understand Horrorspeak when you're in the Furthest Ring?

If so, it must take nerves of steel to actually try and negotiate with them. We've seen what that place looks like without Bubble protection, and it is not pretty.

TG: what am i supposed to do [...] TT: They will teach you how to navigate the unnavigable. TT: The result should be a map. [...] TG: why TT: To plot a course through the Furthest Ring. TG: plot a course to what

Aradia said Rose would never find the Green Sun - and she was right.

But Rose isn't the only Derse-born Player in the session.

TG: whats the deal with this thing [...] TT: I don't know that there is a deal with it. [...] TT: It is what it sounds like. TT: A huge sun out in the literal middle of nowhere, and it is bright green. TT: It is simply, TT: The Green Sun.

I feel like Rose is being a little too flippant here. If you're planning on messing with one of the cores of reality, I don't think there's such a thing as too much caution.

The Sun is an enormous, intensely supernatural pseudostar of unknown, possibly unknowable origin. The game taps it to create First Guardians, but we don't know if that's its intended purpose, or if it even has an intended purpose. Unlike everything else in Sburb, it is not duplicated across sessions, doesn't feature in the game's storyline, and is only referenced in a cryptic stone monument buried hundreds of feet under LOLAR.

It's not even in the Medium! It's 'part of Sburb' only in the loosest possible sense, and feels more like something completely foreign to the game that Skaia is just using. Even the Horrorterrors feature more heavily in the game than the Sun.

Rose doesn't seem too curious, but I am. Just what the fuck is this thing? Is it the only one of its kind, or does Skaia draw its power from other enormous structures, hidden deep in oblivion?

TT: It is nearly twice the mass of our universe.

Scaled against every Sburb session, that's actually pretty small.

We know from Doc Scratch's introduction that every planet supporting intelligent life will have a First Guardian. Every universe will have at least one of these, since its creators will want somewhere to live. There are also universes with a surplus of intelligent species - the Alternian Empire has to be conquering someone.

In other words, this Sun is powering, at an absolute minimum, one First Guardian per universe. It's impossible to estimate how many universes there are - but if (as was implied) every intelligent species is destined to spawn sessions, and if even one session on a planet is successful every million years, the numbers get exponential really fast.

From a metaphysical standpoint, 10^50-ish kg just isn't that much. The First Guardians themselves probably have more collective mass than the Sun.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s90 #3040 #Rose could also be using the actual non-observable mass of the universe (since all bets are off at this point re: relativity)#But she still has a number. So the universe is finite #The number of universes should dwarf it by any measure after just a few iterations of session nesting #Really this is all just for fun; even without timeline branching the actual number is probably just infinity - or it may as well be

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ollieofthebeholder · 8 days ago

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And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 19: It had been mine, and it was lost

“You’re sure you’re not coming?”

Gerry rolled his eyes. “I love you, and I’ll do just about anything for you, you know that. But I hate flying. You’re lucky you got me down here. I am not setting foot on another plane for at least a year. If you want to go back together, come take the train with me.”

Tim laughed, but there was something regretful in his eyes as he shook his head. “I have work in the morning. I can’t leave the Archives unguarded that long.”

“They’re not—fine.” Gerry sighed.

He got what Tim meant. It seemed like nothing in the last two months had gone the way they had hoped it would. Tim had eventually resorted to buying an external floppy disk drive and a few emulators to be able to dissect the one he’d pilfered from the Institute, but to his disappointment—and Gerry’s, it had to be admitted—if there were any secrets on it, they couldn’t suss them out. Gertrude still hadn’t come back or reached out, and as much as they kept telling one another and themselves that she’d been away longer before, that she’d be in touch if she really needed anything in the Archives, and that her cryptic comment about needing them close enough that she could protect them in a pinch had been specific to the Extinguished Sun and not the Unknowing, the longer she was gone the harder it was to believe she was fine. Wherever she had disappeared to, something had happened, and the only thing keeping them from dropping everything and trying to track her down and help her was the simple fact that Tim couldn’t be away from the Institute for very long without permission.

Tim’s worries about leaving the Archives unguarded were as much to do with his current colleagues as it was with external attacks. He’d fretted—ranted really—to Gerry more than a few times about Sasha’s need to wring out every last discoverable detail of anything she researched meaning there was nothing she wouldn’t do to find them, Jon’s contempt for the statements those who gave them meaning that he would go to any lengths to prove them false, and Martin’s desire to prove he was worthy of his job meaning that the one person Tim could otherwise count on to leave well enough alone kept pushing himself further and further in a desperate attempt to satisfy Jon’s demands. And despite Tim’s best efforts, they kept finding the real ones, few and far between though they may have been. The sheer amount of research necessary for most of them meant he’d been able to slow the roll, so to speak, but it was bad enough. He’d described it as watching Jacob Marley sit in a corner contentedly knitting what he thought was a sock and somehow not realizing it was another length of chain.

Gerry had told him he was spending too much time with Martin, but he understood the underlying sentiment. The longer Gertrude was gone, the bigger the risk that the Archives crew would bind themselves too thoroughly for her to have a choice in keeping them or not, and there was always a chance one of them was a spy for Elias…or worse, one of the other Fears. Tim was right, she’d have a stroke if anything else managed to root itself in her Archives while she was gone. Gerry didn’t think she’d hold either of them responsible, but it was still a valid worry.

“Besides,” Tim added with a sudden return of his impish grin, “His Lordship should be ready to come home by now.”

Gerry snorted. “Okay, I’ll give you that.”

The man next to them, a tall and upright but weathered man with brown eyes set in the face Tim would otherwise have when he got old, stepped up and grasped Tim by the shoulders. He spoke several sentences in the thick, honey-toned Italian that Gerry, who’d been forced to spend most of the weekend having what little conversation he could with the old man in Latin, could only catch a word or two in here and there; he was pretty sure he heard the word mama, and from the look that darted through Tim’s eyes, it wasn’t hard to guess what that was about. Tim replied in the same dialect, giving it the inflection of intimacy and respect you could really only get in a Romance language, and stepped in to hug his grandfather. The old man hugged him back before turning to look at Gerry.

“Thank you again for letting us visit, Signor DiAngelo,” Gerry said with a slight bow.

Before Tim could translate, the old man shook his finger at Gerry and tsked. In thickly accented English, he said, “I tell you, call me Nonno.” He gave Gerry a hug, too, which he had definitely not been expecting. “God bless you, my sons.”

Gerry swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat and managed one of the six Italian words he knew well. “Grazie.”

Signor DiAngelo—Nonno—smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, then turned and made his way out of the airport lobby. Tim watched him go, then turned back to Gerry. “He likes you.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Gerry said, and he was only partly joking.

“You make me happy.” Tim leaned in for a quick kiss. “And you agreed to come to services with us, which is more than my father ever did when he was courting Mama. When does your train leave?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Shockingly, not what I asked.”

Gerry sighed. “Tomorrow. From Rome, by way of Naples, by way of Pompei, with one I. Which is where I’m going tonight. I’m seeing you off and then heading to catch a ferry.”

Tim sighed, too. “So you won’t be home until Tuesday.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll live, you’re just at least seventy percent of my impulse control.” Tim took Gerry’s face in his hands and kissed him, the same way he had in the palazzo on their last trip to Italy. “Be safe.”

“You, too.” Gerry hugged him tight. Sudden misgiving made him not want to let go.

As if he understood, Tim whispered in his ear, “I’ll be fine, Ger. If I have to I’ll bring Rowlf to work with me and Jon can deal with that.” Pulling back, he added, “You’ll be fine too. The last eruption was in 1944, it’s not due for another nine years or so.”

“How do you—” Gerry stopped. “Wait, no, never mind, you’re Italian.”

“And Catholic. Danny’s patron saint was Saint Dominic, and there’s a painting at the Shrine of the Virgin of the Rosary of Pompei showing Mary and the Christ Child presenting rosaries to Dominic and Saint Caterina da Siena, who’s Mama’s patron saint. I had to find so much research before he would agree to go.”

Gerry pulled back and studied his partner. “Can’t believe I never asked this before, but who’s your patron saint?”

“Anthony of Padua. Patron saint of miracles, travelers, and lost things. Actually, hang on, here.” Tim reached for his neck and lifted off the silver chain his grandfather had given him just the day before, then slipped it over Gerry’s head. He patted the silver oval now flat against his sternum. “To keep you safe until you get home.”

Gerry placed his hand over Tim’s, trapping it against his chest. He didn’t have Tim’s level of faith in God—or any at all—but somehow, having faith in the medallion was easier. “Thanks, Tim.”

Tim smiled, then cocked his ear at the sound of an announcement. “That’s pre-boarding for my flight. I have to go…look, call me when you get to wherever you’re staying tonight, okay? And I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Okay.” Gerry squeezed Tim’s hand. “Let me know if she turns up.”

“Obviously I’m going to let you know if she turns up.” Tim gave Gerry one last quick kiss, then reluctantly let go of him and dashed towards the security line.

It had been a weekend they both could ill afford and desperately needed. They were both conscious of the ticking clock that presaged the Unknowing, just not of how long it had to run out, and they needed to find as much information as they could. On the other hand, Tim’s grandfather was the only remaining member of his family still talking to him—and, from what Tim had said, vice-versa—and had lost his best friend in the time between Tim and Gerry’s first visit and this one. The previous day had been a fairly major Catholic feast day, which was also a regional holiday, and since it was a Saturday Tim had promised on his last visit to come back for it. Gerry hadn’t necessarily planned on coming at first, but Tim’s grandfather had been expecting him, and since Rowlf had a routine but desperately necessary procedure scheduled for that Friday anyway, he’d agreed. And he didn’t regret it, he didn’t. He’d have greatly preferred if Tim could have taken a couple days off so they could take the train down and back together, but he’d white-knuckled his way through the flight, and it had been worth it for the broad grin and tight hug the old man had given them both when they deplaned.

He was not, however, flying back, regardless of how long it was going to take him. So once Tim was out of sight, Gerry turned and headed for the route he’d mapped out earlier to catch the ferry off the island.

The trip to Pompei—a ferry followed by a bus followed by a narrow-gauge train—was uneventful, and Gerry busied himself with the book of puzzles he’d brought along and the tape of heavy metal music Tim had unearthed in an Oxfam shop while looking for a computer. Once he disembarked at the small station in the town where he was going to spend the night, he busied himself with his latest problem. Namely, that he still didn’t speak Italian. Most towns in Europe had one or two people who spoke English, but some of the smaller towns, it was iffy.

Lucky for him, Pompei was a tourist town, and he discovered—after a confused attempt to communicate with a local about lodgings that got him directed to the local church by someone who clearly thought he was a Dominican postulate—that there were plenty of people here who spoke English well enough to communicate with him. He managed to find a bed and breakfast that had rooms available, dropped off his things, and went looking for something to eat. The one problem with living with Tim—and it was admittedly not a bad problem to have—was that he’d got used to things like regular meals and soap that wasn’t just whatever was on sale and someone being there when he woke up in the mornings. The man who’d once gone three days on a handful of crackers and a pint now got extremely hungry if he went more than seven hours without something in his stomach.

He pretended annoyance, but he knew he looked—and felt—better than he ever remembered feeling.

Another joy he’d learned from traveling with Tim was in eating where the locals ate, rather than where catered to tourists. Gerry wandered the streets a bit until he located exactly the kind of place he enjoyed—small, intimate, dim without being dingy, and emitting a truly appetizing smell. He slipped in, found a seat, discovered that the person behind the counter spoke about as much English as he did Italian but, for some reason, spoke extremely good German, and managed to order a meal.

The woman, who said her name was Elizabeth, leaned on the counter to chat with him. She turned out to be from more or less the same part of Germany Gerry’s mother had always claimed their ancestors came from, and while Gerry freely admitted to being English—if only so he didn’t have to bluff his way through memories of growing up in the Black Forest or explain why he apparently spoke with a Hessian accent—she spoke to him like a long-lost sibling or cousin. She was full of suggestions for what he could do and seemed almost disappointed to learn he was only passing through on his way home and would be gone in the morning.

“So where were you visiting, that you are going home this way?” she asked, propping herself on her elbows. “And all by yourself?”

“No, not by myself. My boyfriend had to leave early for work,” Gerry explained without thinking, then almost bit his tongue in half. Luckily, Elizabeth didn’t bat an eyelash, and he went on. “We were visiting his grandfather for the—” He gestured vaguely. His German was good, even fluent, but it had somehow never extended to religious vocabulary, go figure. He struggled for a moment, and then ventured, “The Virgin party?”

Elizabeth giggled. “Mariae Himmelfahrt. You are not Catholic, are you?”

“No, but his family is, so I went. His grandfather lives in Messina.”

“Ah, yes, it is an important holiday for them.” Elizabeth studied him curiously. “So what is it that you do, when you are not being Catholic to please your boyfriend?”

Gerry was pretty sure he had used the word boyfriend to describe Tim more in the last five minutes than he had in their entire time knowing one another, but there wasn’t really a word in German that worked well enough for casual conversation. “I buy and sell rare books.”

Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “Ah, like Jurgen Leitner?”

Gerry froze.

Of all the things he could have expected to hear her say, that was the absolute last one. The question of how she even knew who Jurgen Leitner was met the question of why that was her first association with “rare book dealer” and turned into a catastrophic system failure that resulted in the next words out of his mouth being, “No, actually, I think he’s a dumbass bastard.”

Elizabeth tilted her head at him in confusion. After a moment’s pause, she said slowly, “I do not know those words and I cannot tell from your tone if that was surprised or angry.”

Enough of Gerry’s brain came back online at that point that he realized he had, while retaining the fact that she didn’t speak English, somehow managed to switch languages entirely and he’d made his comment in Sanskrit. Making a conscious effort to get hold of himself and return to the tongue they both knew, he said, “A little bit of both, I suppose. How do you know Jurgen Leitner?”

“Oh, I have never met him myself,” Elizabeth said. Gerry wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. “But Monseigneur Tommaso Caputo, at the Shrine—he spoke about him not long ago. I think he has a book from him.”

Gerry managed to change the subject, but part of his attention was still on the revelation. If this Monseigneur Caputo had a Leitner…well, it was Gerry’s bounden duty to get it off of him before it caused more harm than it undoubtedly already had. Particularly in the hands of a priest…who knew what it could convince him of? He’d heard all about Father Edwin Burroughs.

He finished off dinner with a delicious dessert that he barely tasted, then made his way onto the street. For a moment, he stood, torn with indecision. He could—probably should—head back to the bed and breakfast, call Tim to make sure he’d made it home all right, and get a bit of rest, then…what? Break into a Catholic shrine and steal a book? God, what if it was a Bible or some other religious text? He’d never make it out of town in time. No, there was really only one option.

Touching the medal Tim had put around his neck lightly, he made his way to the shrine.

A fair few people were coming out of the front door as he arrived. It hadn’t occurred to him there might be an evening service as well, but apparently there had been. Gerry waited respectfully until the last one had walked out, then headed up the path. A tall older man with gold-framed glasses and a beatific smile stood, wearing the same white robes as the priest at the local church back in Messina. He caught Gerry’s eye and raised an eyebrow, just for a moment, before bowing and addressing him in Italian.

Gerry bowed back and spoke in Latin, which he was fairly certain would be the only tongue they had in common. “Greetings, Monseigneur, may I have a word with you?”

“Certainly, my son. Come in.” The man’s smile softened. He ushered Gerry into the shrine.

It was, admittedly, beautiful. Gerry couldn’t appreciate the religious significance but he could appreciate the architectural aesthetics, and the painting at one end of the room that Tim had mentioned was lovely. The monseigneur led Gerry to a pew and sat down beside him. “Now. How may I be of assistance?”

Gerry hesitated, then decided, the hell with it. He might as well go for it. “Elizabeth at the Hungry Spoon told me you had mentioned Jurgen Leitner.”

That fast, the smile melted off the man’s face. “You know him?”

“I know of him. I deal in rare books, and…” Gerry gestured vaguely. “My name is Gerard Delano. My mother owned a rare book shop in London, and I took it over when she…left me.”

The man studied Gerry for a moment, then—to his surprise—switched to a heavily accented but perfectly understandable English. “I am Monseigneur Tommaso Caputo. Let us not use God’s tongue to discuss this man.��

“Yeah, I think the devil’s tongue is the better choice,” Gerry said, getting a surprised laugh from the old man. “I take it you don’t like Jurgen Leitner and his books any more than I do.”

“No. They are things of evil, relics of unholiness, that take men from God’s light and plunge them into darkness, or bind them to the Lord of the Flies, or condemn them to flame.” Monseigneur Caputo’s words belied a certain familiarity with the Fourteen that Gerry found interesting, and he knew Tim would as well. “I know not the man’s fate, but if God is so good, it will be the pain he deserves.”

“I agree, Monseigneur,” Gerry said fervently. “And I’m grateful to hear it. I worried when Elizabeth mentioned him that you had found one of his books and that it might…do you harm yourself.”

“Alas, no, or I would have removed the foul thing from existence,” Monseigneur Caputo said regretfully. He studied Gerry again, then gestured at his medal. “You do not look to be Catholic yourself, my son, but do you know whose medal you wear?”

Gerry almost said it was his partner’s before he realized what he meant. “Saint Anthony.”

“Who helps find things that are lost. Perhaps, then, you can be of use.” Monseigneur Caputo rose. “Wait here.”

Despite the temptation to follow, Gerry stayed where he was, hand over the medal. He could almost fool himself that it still held a bit of the warmth from Tim’s hand, but that was undoubtedly the heat of the sun. It had been an almost unpleasantly warm day and he was grateful for the cool, dark interior of the shrine.

Whatever this was, it was almost certainly the best lead they’d had in a while. Gerry was glad he’d come.

Monseigneur Caputo came back to the main part of the shrine carrying a very large leather-bound volume gingerly, as if he feared it might explode. Gerry clutched the medal for just a moment before relaxing and straightening. The Book of the Unnamed Dead had been almost that large, and if this was something like that…no, he’d specifically referenced lost things, so more likely the Spiral. God, he hoped it wasn’t the Stranger.

“A regular parishioner here found this in a box he fished from the sea,” Monseigneur Caputo explained. “He was hoping it would be valuable, but he reads no English, and so brought it to me. I assured him it was of no value, and it is—no monetary value, anyway.” He sat down next to Gerry again, then held the book out to him. “You tell me what value it has to one such as you.”

Gerry took it slowly, unease filling him again. It could be a trap. It was probably a trap. Reading these things was the quickest way to get bound to them. Maybe if he just took a quick peek at the cover page, though, it would be okay. He opened it carefully.

And stared.

An hour later, safely back in the bed and breakfast and having confirmed with the innkeepers that international calls were permitted, he dialed the number that was now as familiar to him as his own name. It rang once, twice, three times…

“You have reached the Literacy Self-Help Hotline. At the tone, please leave your name, your number, and the correct spelling of acetylsalicylic.”

Gerry grinned. Never more than three rings. “Hey, Tim.”

“Gerry, hey.” The relief in Tim’s voice was almost tangible. “Are you okay? I was expecting your call hours ago.”

“Yeah, I just…went out for food.” Gerry glanced at the book in his lap. “And then I got a lead…you made it home all right?”

“Safe and sound. Picked up the dog an hour ago. He’s currently passed out on his back with all four legs in the air and his tail covering the bits he hasn’t got anymore.”

Gerry laughed. “Still modest, even post-surgery.”

“Thank God one of us is. So what was the lead?”

“Well…” Gerry brushed the cover of the book again. “While I was chatting with the woman working the restaurant, she mentioned that the priest at the shrine had said something the other day about Jurgen Leitner.”

“It’s called a pre—wait, what about Leitner?” Tim asked, a little sharply.

“She didn’t say, so I went to talk to him. Monseigneur Tommaso Caputo, and thankfully he speaks English, because I don’t speak Italian and we were starting to hit the limits of my Latin. Anyway, he apparently knows about Leitner, and considers him an agent of Satan. One of his parishioners found a book in a box and brought it to him, and he gave it to me.”

Tim inhaled sharply, and when he spoke, he sounded like he was barely holding back the panic. “What is it? Which Fear? Do I need to come down there? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Tim. I’m okay. I promise. This isn’t a Leitner. Or at least it’s not a book of power.” Gerry opened the book’s cover again. “It’s his catalog.”

There was a silence, one so long Gerry wondered if the call had been disconnected. Before he could check, though, Tim said, “Are you fucking serious?”

“No, I’m fucking you,” Gerry shot back. It earned a surprised laugh out of Tim. “But yeah, genuinely. Looks like the whole thing. I’m going to have to go through and cross off the ones I know have been destroyed.”

“I’ll help you. There are some I know the Institute’s got hold of and destroyed. Jon seems to be under the impression we got them all, but…”

“Tim, there are at least nine thousand books in this thing. No way did you get them all. Especially since I know I got a few myself.”

“Yeah, it seemed too good to be true.” Tim sighed down the phone line. “We can look at it when you get home—Tuesday, right?”

“Yeah, around lunchtime. I can—no, never mind.” Gerry had been on the verge of offering to meet Tim at the Institute, but unless Gertrude was back—and Tim would have led off with that if she was—they couldn’t risk it. “Uh, I think I might spend the trip home working out how to phrase an ad in the Times to subtly convey to our missing contact and no one else that we’ve got this. Might entice her out of hiding.”

“We can only hope. Call me before you check out in the morning, okay? I’ll probably be at work, but I want to know when you’re leaving.”

“I will. ‘Night, Tim.”

“Night, Ger. Don’t stay up too late reading. Love you.” Tim hung up before Gerry could respond.

Slowly, Gerry hung up the phone, then wrapped his hand around the St. Anthony’s medallion again. Funny how such a short phone call could hurt so much, or how much further away home felt after one. Still, it would just be another day or so, not even thirty-six hours. He could make it that long.

It wasn’t like he had that much choice in the matter. Nothing short of an impending apocalypse would get him on another plane any time soon.

#ollie writes fanfic #and if thou wilt forget #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #tim stoker #gerard keay #anxiety #incl. separation anxiety #discussion of religion (esp. Catholicism)#innuendo

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synnthamonsugar · 5 months ago

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Synnth's Fic Rec Friday . . . #2!

Inspired by the fic rec listed started by @a-driftamongopenstars and the Friday fic rec series by @flowers-of-io. I thought I would throw my hat into the ring with my own weekly(ish) series. (Tag: Synnth Recs)

A Dance for the Ages

By @endivinity

Read on AO3

Fandom: Destiny | Rating: Teen | Characters: Eris Morn, Savathun, Oryx | Word count: 4,188 | Warnings: None

Eris had been warned, as a little girl, not to go down to the marsh alone after dark. There were lights that bobbed enticingly on the horizon, beckoning her with their charming glow that she knew well to ignore and turn away from; grasping claws that look like lakeweed until an unknowing traveler stepped within their drifting clutches

I have a complicated relationship with fantasy/fae/magic AUs. I think it's easy to simply drop existing characters into a stock magical setting and call it a day. But at their best, these sorts of AUs understand the original settings and characters of a work and map them seamlessly onto a unique new world.

This is fae AU at its best, a fic that respects both its source material and offers a compelling recontextualization of its characters & events.

She is returning, the night of a full-moon. Silver horseshoes affix to her boots, making her steps weighty but for all the howling and hungry eyes shining red in between the trees, she is not bothered. Baskets of herbs sway from the heavy bindle over her shoulder. “Traveler,” an unfamiliar voice croons, so close it could almost be at her ear. “Thou'rt far from home, in this place.” It's melodic and beautiful, and immediately Eris's hand goes to the salt-kissed blade at her hip. She turns slowly, letting a silvered shoe dig into the dry dirt of the path, grounding her with intent: she will not be moved. Her eyes meet those of a woman.

One of the first things I noticed about A Dance For The Ages is the way its style pays homage to classic fairytale narration. There's a rhythm to the narration that's immensely compelling — I could not put it down once I started reading.

“Such busy folk,” a familiar oil-slick voice drips into her ears, and she startles, almost dropping her mug. A goat stands beside her, black hair forming a mantle, black raking horns, black eyes. It chews a stalk of wheat thoughtfully. “You are no mere siren,” Eris says. “Indeed I am not.” “What is it you ask of me this time?” It is a bold question, yet nonetheless accurate. A wight such as this would never appear benignly without purpose. The goat chews and chews the wheat until it is all gone, grain-husks crunched beneath teeth that carry glimpses of being razor sharp. “I bear a craving for fruits of the summer. If thou'rt diligent at pastry-craft, a pie upon the sill,” she requests, swapping to the old-speak easy as breathing. “I offer a trinket, in return.”

The dialog between Savathûn and Eris is such a delight to read, and I love the way the story leans in to Savathûn's status as trickster; always shifting shapes, always offering deals and challenges and cryptic wisdom.

The village did not baulk at her eyes, nor did they stop in their care. It is a comfort, to still be so loved, even after her desperate choices. She saved them, they tell her, as she helps deliver a stuck lamb; the season's first, and a sign of the Fell King's touch upon the land and his theft of their blessing of the coming year. It will take work, but they will work through it. She saved them, they say, and so she deserves to choose to save herself in turn. It is hard. But she is not alone.

I adore the characterization of Eris as respected wise-woman and witch, as someone who makes hard decisions but own them, as someone who faces immense hardship without falling victim.

“Sathona,” Eris whispers, and heedless of the stories and truths of the swamp's dangers, of the mud and the water and the startled frogs, she surges forward. Sathona catches her easily, braced as she is on elegantly sweeping legs and cloven hooves. “Hello, darling,” Sathona says, the smile evident in her voice for all that Eris cannot see it with her face buried in Sathona's midriff with the force of her embrace. “Thank you for the gifts.”

The actual Savathûn/Eris aspect of this fic is wonderfully light-touch and tender, walking the line between platonic love, romance, and some secret other thing. I love the blurring of Eris' and Savathûn's identities — shared struggles and vision — in a way that slots perfectly into their canon.

Genuinely, this is one of the most refreshing and bittersweet and beautiful fics I've read in a long while. What are you doing still reading this review! Go read it instead!

#destiny #savathun #eris morn #oryx #synnth recs

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stuckasmain · 1 year ago

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Really respect Dave for using his ten or so minutes of screen time being Gay, spooky and unknowable.

Babygirl you are so strange and off putting 💕

His Be not afraid, Max Headroom incident having ass just decides to be cryptic as hell. He has all the answers but also no answers at all- knows but doesn’t. I’m joking around but starchild Dave is terrifying and I love it? It’s him but it’s… not. It should be him and by all measure it is but he’s so changed etc etc

#dave bowman #david bowman #2010 the year we make contact #2010 tywmc #2001 aso #2001 a space odyssey #idk what the fandom tags are yet if I’m spamming lemme know #2001 meta

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citadelofswords · 7 months ago

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i have to write an intro to this somehow. i don't know how to. all i got is that this is caro's fault. i've been thinking about this all day. i have so many more thoughts than made it into this thing and i might write more of it, but this gets across what i want it to. anyway yeah it's an interstitial infinity homestuck au sorry to my non-homestucks in the tag

four teenagers sit around a campfire on the ruined battlefield of a cosmic chessboard. three of them are wearing incredibly comfortable looking pajamas emblazoned with strange, unknowable symbols. the fourth is wearing what looks like a fuchsia tracksuit made of velvet. it looks equally as comfortable, but is notably much uglier than the pajamas are.

“i’m just saying,” says audrey, wearing a teal color that makes her look a little washed out. “it should be fundamentally impossible to lose it. it should be baked into the— the code that makes up the game.”

“maybe it’s a weird glitch?” suggests al, in a black and grey that suits him, but looks out of place on his body, as though he should always be dressed in color. “i know it was successful. i held it in my hands for a moment. it was perfect.”

“and sometime in between then and killing the black king, we lost it,” audrey says. “we lost an entire universe! how does that happen?!”

“you forget to cherish it,” says trish, in dark olive green. despite herself, audrey snorts a laugh.

shigeo, in the ugly fuchsia tracksuit, says, “do we have an idea of how to find it again?”

“no,” audrey says glumly. “i mean. maybe al can mess with paradox space or something?”

“it’s not here anymore,” al says. “it’s its own thing now. its own universe. it’s outside of here.”

“great, so we have nothing.” audrey flops backwards onto the ground and sighs.

“at least we went god tier before the reckoning!” al says brightly, before glancing at shigeo. “oh, right.”

“no, it’s okay,” shigeo says with a sigh. “i don’t know why it didn’t work either.”

“you’re just already too OP. if you went god tier it would just break the whole game,” audrey suggests.

there’s silence for a while, save the crackling of the campfire.

“so this is it,” trish says finally. “this is all there is for the rest of time.”

“it can’t be,” audrey says. “our genesis frog exists. we just have to figure out how to get to it.”

“if we go to the furthest ring, and speak to the horrorterrors maybe?” shigeo offers tentatively. “or i could sleep...”

“prospit’s gone, mob,” audrey reminds him. “and so is your dream self. even though your ascension didn’t take, you still merged. no, if we want to talk to those guys we’ll have to go ourselves.”

trish says, “i could try to reach out to them—,”

“no,” three voices say in unison, cutting her off.

“it’s a good thought!” al says. “but, uh...” he looks behind trish, where a still smoking crater shows the results of trish becoming her aspect. the edges are still dripping, as though the very ground has melted around her.

“yeah?” trish raises an eyebrow. “i have a better sense of how to do it now. it was a learning experience.”

“just stay for a second,” audrey says, tiredly. “give me a moment. i’m sure the pathway to the furthest ring will show itself if we just—,”

“you’re confusing mind with time again,” al mutters.

“sburb did that first!” audrey shouts, with no heat.

—

somewhere, a timer that has been steadily ticking for the last several thousand years finally reaches zero.

—

the conversation on the battlefield is interrupted by a strange fraymotif— gears rotating before being slashed in half. a fifth teenager appears from seemingly nowhere. he, too, is wearing a set of comfortable looking pajamas, but his are dark red, standing out against the grey of his skin. he looks disdainfully at the four humans in front of him.

“my part’s done,” he says. over his shoulder is slung a dark body, which he dumps on the ground in front of himself. “he’s your problem now. have fun.”

with those inexplicably cryptic words, he disappears again.

“what the fuck,” audrey says. shigeo gets up to creep closer to the body. al glances warily at him, but makes no move to stop him.

the figure groans and squints open one eye. it is, strangely-- an anthropomorphic hedgehog. he is unlike any of the beings that any of them have seen before. the eye flickers over al, trish, and audrey before settling on shigeo.

“boy,” he rasps, and shigeo flinches. “have you got any water?”

“i can get you some,” al pipes up, and scrambles to his feet to head for the river. he’s stopped in place by shigeo’s voice.

“you’re him,” he says. he meets the hedgehog’s gaze head-on. “the voice i was hearing in my head. it’s you.”

“what?” audrey says. “but— but i heard one too. and we met her— she was a prospitian.”

“no rules that say they have to be from the moons,” al tries, but trish stands up, her doom powers crackling ominously.

“who the hell are you?” she asks. “what do you want with us?”

“first,” says the hedgehog— the sojourning hellion, if shigeo is to be believed. “i would like some water. please. and then i will tell you what i know.”

it is then that they notice that he is, himself, wearing the pajamas that indicate that he is a god tier player.

—

your name is SHADOW the HEDGEHOG. you are a teenager. you played the game called sburb. it was supposed to be you and your best friend MARIA, but she was killed in the process of entering the incipisphere, and you were left alone. as a result your session became DEAD. it should have been impossible for you to win. you think impossible situations can go fuck themselves. when you reached the FORGE, however, you discovered that someone had already bred the GENESIS FROG before you could get there. being the only living creature left in the ENTIRE UNIVERSE, you have no idea how this could have happened. the only explanation that you have is that SOMEONE (POSSIBLY YOU) CAME BACK FROM THE FUTURE TO DO IT. and so you have set off through paradox space, crawling in and out of the maws of many a BILIOUS SLICK, in order to find the person who would, one day, return to your past and light your forge, thereby granting you access to the ULTIMATE REWARD. what will you do?

#my writing #interstitial infinity #i know what all their classpects are just for the record #interstitialstuck

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 1 year ago

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Psycho Analysis: William Afton

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

The original Five Nights at Freddy’s had an Easter egg in the form of news articles detailing the disappearance of several children at Freddy’s, a little bit of easily missable lore that hinted that there was more to these killer animatronics than meets the eye and giving a good indication as to why the pizza place seemed like such a shithole. Of course, these papers raised a very important, chilling question: Who was the man behind the slaughter?

And the answer as provided by the sequel and that would be expanded upon in later installments was: This creepy purple fuck.

William Afton AKA Purple Guy is the monster who many lost their sons (and daughters) to. He’s a wildly enigmatic serial killer who is expanded upon in cryptic cutscenes and games in the earlier entries… And then later entries would really delve into who he is and make him also ludicrously complicated, as if he were a physical representation of the series itself. But even though it’s been so long, we’re stuck to ponder the greatest and most important question of them all:

Motivation/Goals: I think the most fascinating aspect of Afton is that, despite the lore becoming so much more dense and crazy as the series went on, one thing never changed: His goals are utterly and completely unknowable. Sure, Afton has long since been revealed to be a mad scientist and something of a Jigsaw-type torturer of children… But why? What does he gain other than perhaps some sick, perverted joy? What drives him to kill children? What made him come back to destroy the animatronics in the lead up to his first death? Why does he keep coming back time and time again? Afton leaves us with a lot more questions than answers, and even as he has steadily become sillier and sillier in terms of characterization, he still manages to retain an unsettling evil presence to him due to a lack of any real reason as to why he is the way he is. He’s just an evil, loathsome asshole.

Performance: In Sister Location, Afton is finally given a voice by P. J. Heywood, but that’s a voice role that could never hope to escape the shadow of the live-action adaptation’s casting. In the movie that was finally released in 2023 after years in development hell, Afton was portrayed by Matthew Lillard. He’s most well known today as Shaggy from the live-action Scooby Doo movies, but his role here calls back to one of his big breakout roles: Stu Macher, one half of the original Ghostface in Scream. While he is used incredibly sparingly in the film—he appears for a couple minutes near the start and then about ten minutes at the end—he steals the scene every time he’s onscreen, and his performance once he’s put the Springtrap suit on and is in full villain mode really show that he’s still got it. It’s hard not to feel disappointed we only got a small taste of what Lillard can bring to the role, but hey, there’s always sequels. Many are already calling him the definitive portrayal of Afton, and it’s hard to disagree.

Final Fate: This dude gets fucked up and comes back so much that he would leave Rasputin in awe.

In Five Nights at Freddy’s 3, we get to see his first gruesome end. Trapped by the ghosts of his victims, he decides to hide from them in a Spring Bonnie costume… that has been sitting in a damp room, and which has mechanisms that are known to fuck up and maim the wearer if they breathe funny? Bro was just asking to get Springtrapped.

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After slowly and painfully dying from having his skeleton obliterated, he was left to rot in the abandoned pizzeria’s sealed room for decades until some absolute genius decided to turn the place into a spooky haunted house attraction. Afton wakes up, but he gets less than a week to enjoy his newfound freedom because due to faulty wiring the place burns down with him inside it. He’s revealed to have survived that in the end of Sister Location, but then Pizzeria Simulator has him trapped in an inescapable maze and set ablaze again… And for now, it seems to have stuck. Sure, there are hints here and there that this guy might still be purpling around, but right now it’s nothing more than theories.

GAME THEOR—

Best Scene: Aside from the aforementioned death scene from the third game, both scenes Lillard is in in the film are the highlights of the movie.

Best Quote: “I always come back!” A line so good, they had to have Lillard drop it as his pre-mortem one-liner in the movie!

Final Thoughts & Score: As I mentioned in the opening paragraphs, William Afton very much feels like the embodiment of his home series in one character. He started out as something simple and chilling—a serial killer who targeted children, using their love of a mascot character to lure them to their death—but then, over time, slowly morphed into a mad scientist who designed the animatronics and managed to cheat death multiple times. He’s a living metaphor for how the series that started as a simple series of horror games with a little lore being drip fed to us eventually morphed into some massive, crazy science-fantasy epic with convoluted plotlines and all sorts of robotic and supernatural nonsense at every turn. And Afton and the series both ultimately have one important aspect in common: Despite everything, they’re still immensely enjoyable.

Yes, at this point Afton really just needs to stay dead and not pop up again as a main antagonist; his arc is over, he’s run his course, and his current final fate is immensely satisfying. It would honestly feel like a cheat if he came back again. And yes, it’s really silly they turned what was essentially a grounded Pennywise into Chuck E. Cheese Jigsaw, with elaborate torture machines and mad science and all, but I think it’s all very fun and charming in a B-movie sort of way. And Like I’ve mentioned previously, all of the added information still does nothing to elaborate on his true motives behind the slaughter. The man is every bit as unsettling and enigmatic because nothing we learn about him tells us the truth that we really want to know: Why?

Afton is one of the most iconic modern video game characters. No, not just villains, characters, period. I think as far as video game villains go, he’s easily one of the most memorable to come out of 2010s video game culture, and he’s pretty recognizable due to his wacky purple sprites. I think part of the appeal is all of the mystery surrounding him, especially back during the first three games. The books, later games, and to a lesser extent the movie slightly demystify him, but the elements about him that work wouldn’t make me rate him below an 8.5/10. He’s a weird, fucked up guy who is shrouded in mystery even as he gets more and more cartoonishly evil, and there’s something really fascinating about that.

Now if he could just fucking stay dead so I could appreciate him a bit more, that’d be great.

#Psycho Analysis #William Afton #five nights at freddy's #Matthew Lillard #P. J. Heywood #Youtube

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