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Falling-Into-Blue — Don't Go Chasing Rabbits - Part 25
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#bl #bonnie #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #gijinka #guy #human #humanized #humanoid #humanversion #mike #phone #scott #slash #yaoishounenai #fnaf #yaoiboyslove #mikeschmidt #bonniethebunny #fivenightsatfreddys #five_nights_at_freddys #bonnie_the_bunny #freddyfazbearspizza #mike_schmidt #phoneguy #phone_guy #bonniexmike #jeremyfitzgerald #freddyfivenightsatfreddys #jeremy_fitzgerald #fritzsmith #gijinkafnaf #fritz_smith #jeremyfitzgeraldfnaf2 #fritzthesecurityguard #phoneguy_fnaf #tinasapphireau #yaoishounenaiboyslove #tinasapphireaufanfiction #tinasapphireaufanfic #dontgochasingrabbits #endoeskeletonfnaf #dont_go_chasing_rabbits #scott_callahan
Published: 2018-07-31 04:36:18 +0000 UTC; Views: 3521; Favourites: 9; Downloads: 0
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Fritz waits a few seconds, just to make sure no more details are coming, then shakes his head. “Fuck.”“So, that's not, uh, normal?”
Mike's eyes have strayed down to the floor. He can faintly make out the other night guard's reflection in the wood. That's how he knows when Fritz presses a hand to his temple, as if thinking has become physically painful.
“I've been working at Freddy's for half a year and the most I've gotten out of any of them is 'hello, may I take your order?' and that creepy song Freddy likes to sing after hours. So no, Mike, that's not normal.”
“Song?” What song?
“Never mind,” Fritz says impatiently. “Look, are you sure he said this shit? It's important.”
Mike edges backwards in his seat. “Why?”
“Because Scott's been trying to talk with the androids for years and he's never succeeded in getting anything but pre-recorded bullshit. You, on the other hand, have worked here two nights. If Bonnie's talking to you, that means something.” Fritz sighs, looking away. “Hell if I know what, though.”
Mike knows he should say something here – something meaningful, or at least resolute. Something might begin to explain why Bonnie's taken such an interest in him.
What actually comes out is, “So they can talk?”
Fritz huffs. “Yeah, they can talk. They just prefer not to where adults can hear. Or walking dumpster fires,” he adds, with a pointed look at Mike.
“Hey!”
“Don't be a brat, we're all dumpster fires at Freddy's. Whatever. I'll talk to Scott about this tomorrow. He better thank me for not interrupting his pre-shift meditation bullshit.” The other night guard gestures at the bag at Mike's side. “You gonna ignore that all day or what?”
Blue eyes skitter off the white plastic and settle on the floor. “I. Uh. I've never had a phone like that before.”
“So start getting used to it now, on your night off, when no one is sneaking up on you planning to rip your throat out with their teeth.”
“D-does that actually happen?”
“Oh, yeah,” Fritz says. “The guy before you – dunno his name – got himself cornered by Foxy on his first night. Fucker didn't look at the Cove. He was all over the office when I checked on him in the morning.”
Mike keeps his eyes down, trying not to imagine that grisly sight. It's not working. “Thanks for that.”
“Fucking welcome. Now get that phone out before I do it for you.”
The phone isn't as complicated as it seemed in the store. It's worse. The interface is supposed to be simplified, but it's practically unreadable. Fritz has to walk Mike through every step of turning it on, using the menus, and adding contacts. By the time Mike actually gets to call someone, he's exhausted all his stores of nervous energy.
A soft click. “Hello?”
Mike sighs, resigned. “Hi, Jeremy.”
“M-Mike! You're all right – I mean, of course you're all right. Fritz wouldn't have let anything happen to you. Unless you piss him off, or it would be funny. B-but you sound okay, so nothing happened, right?”
He sounds pathetically hopeful. Or maybe just pathetic. The vision of a gore-stained office is finally banished by the image of a fluffy golden retriever giving Mike puppy dog eyes. It's distracting. So much so that Mike doesn't protest when Fritz leans across the table to speak into the phone.
“It's past 6 and no one's dead. You can stop panicking.”
“I wasn't panicking!” Jeremy lies.
Fritz snorts. “Yes you fucking were.”
“I wasn't,” the blond repeats, as if saying it enough will make it true. “Is Mike there?”
Mike stays quiet for a second too long. Fritz kicks the leg of his chair – gently, because if he hit it too hard it might collapse – and glares expressively.
“Yeah,” Mike says into the speaker, grimacing back at him. “I'm here.”
“That's good.” Jeremy goes quiet for a moment. “Um. Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Mostly.”
“Mostly... I guess that's as much as I can ask for.” A forced chuckle. “Fritz, you still there?” Fritz grunts, which Jeremy takes as an invitation to keep talking. “Just wanted to let you know that Scott's doing a solo shift tonight.”
“Shit.” The brunet stops glaring at Mike and starts glaring at the phone. “Been a while since he pulled one of those.”
He doesn't sound upset, but his eyes are freezing cold. Mike doesn't blame him. He doesn't like the sound of that either.
“What do you mean by solo shift?”
Jeremy clears his throat, sounding tinny and nervous. “He's... he's going to be alone tonight. D-don't worry! He's done this before. A lot.”
“Every couple of months he gets the idea that he hasn't pushed his luck far enough lately and takes on the night crowd alone,” Fritz elaborates. “Fuck if I know why. Might be trying to mess with the androids' settings.”
“That sounds like an excellent way to get yourself killed,” Mike says slowly.
“Yeah, pretty much. But we can't talk him out of it and he knows all sneaky ways to get people out of the building before the shift starts, so we deal. He'll have turned his phone off by now, the paranoid bastard. Thinks the androids are going to steal it and learn about wi-fi or something. We'll talk to him about your thing with Bonnie in the morning – need to get your new phone number added to the register anyway so Pam can text you whenever you let down your guard. Whatcha gonna do on your night off?”
It takes Mike a second to process the subject change. “I, ah, forgot.”
“To make plans? Boring.”
“I have plans,” he says defensively. He does, too, if 'avoiding Aunt Sharon' counts.
“Really,” Fritz drawls, resting his chin on the back of his hand.
“It's okay, Mike,” Jeremy says softly. “I never have plans, either.”
“Yeah, I'm the odd one out for having a life.”
Mike huffs and pulls the device away from Fritz. “Okay, you've lost phone privileges. Jeremy, it's been great. Thanks, have a good one.”
And he's resorted to his cashier script. Nice going, Mike. That wasn't awkward in the slightest. At least he hung up before Jeremy could voice his confusion.
“Smooth,” Fritz says. He's still half-laying on the table, which Mike fully expects to collapse under his weight any second.
“Oh, shut up.” Mike turns the screen off and stows the phone in his pocket. In the process, he reminds himself that he never bothered to change out of his cashier work uniform. “Is there somewhere I can change?”
That nets him a raised eyebrow. “Back here?”
He looks around, eyeing the heaps of potentially dangerous clutter and probably lethal dustbunny colonies. Aunt Sharon may be a hoarder, but at least her house is clean. “Uh. Maybe not.”
“Chicken.” Fritz heaves himself to his feet and stretches bonelessly. His shirt rides up a few dangerous inches, which Mike carefully does not stare at. “Come on. I'll take you home.”
There is no way Mike heard that correctly. “What?”
“Stop freaking out,” the brunet orders. “That wasn't a come on, it's an offer to make sure you don't wander into traffic on your way back.”
Oh. That's... reassuring and a little disappointing. Not that sleeping with a coworker is a good idea at the best of times. Makes the workplace uncomfortable when things inevitably go wrong. No time to dwell on that now, though.
“It's okay,” Mike lies. “I'm not that tired. I can find my own way home.”
Fritz isn't buying it. Maybe it's the smile, which feels hideously fake on Mike's lips. Maybe it's the little hitch in his voice when he says the word 'home.' Maybe Fritz is just psychic. Either way, he's wearing one of the best unimpressed looks Mike's ever seen. This guy could go to the Olympics for judgemental facial expressions.
“If you don't trust me, fine. But I have eyes and so does the rest of the world. Odds of you making it back safe are close to nil. No skin off my nose if you walk into a door or get yourself killed in some alley, but Scott gets all guilty when he loses someone and Jeremy'll cry, which will make working with them unbearable. So suck it up and let me walk you home, asshole.”
The words hit like a flood. Literally. Mike's eyes are wet. He has to look away and blink for a bit before he can answer.
“It's not that I don't trust you,” he explains haltingly. “I just...” Don't want anyone to know how I live. “I live with my aunt, and she's not exactly a people person. She doesn't like it when I bring people over.”
Understatement. She's not as bad as her brother was about having strangers underfoot, but Mike feels zero desire to give her a new victim. There's a reason he doesn't have friends anymore.
Fritz snorts. “I've taken on worse. Come on, we're going back to wherever your bed is and you're going to sleep for at least nine hours. Resistance will not be tolerated.”
Something in Mike bristles at the choice of words, but the reasoning holds up. He lets Fritz tug him to his feet, takes the bag when it's handed to him, and follows the brunet out of the back. Blink, and they're back outside. Mike doesn't even remember leaving the salon.
“Bus?” Fritz asks, tone callous enough to bury any hint of concern.
“No. I can walk from here.” When that nets him a hard look, he says, “Really. I can.”
The senior night guard doesn't look convinced, but he falls into step when Mike starts walking. Traffic is loud here, especially the motorbikes, of which there are quite a few. A hundred thousand conversations are going on around them. If he listens, Mike can hear a cricket chirping to the approaching dusk. Things aren't quiet, but they are peaceful.
Somewhat, anyway. His shoulder still hurts. Same with his fingers. And he's been breathing shallowly all day.
It still feels like a good enough note to end this confusing outing on.
Aunt Sharon must be feeling poorly today – the only sign of her is a crack in the blinds when Mike steps onto the driveway. To Mike's relief, Fritz doesn't follow him onto the property. He steps back instead, tongue playing with one lip stud, and disengages with a smoothness Mike can't help but envy.
“Heading out. Don't die and I'll see you tomorrow.”
“See you,” Mike echoes, and makes his escape.
She doesn't descend on him immediately – spying on the neighbours, maybe, or watching Fritz leave with narrowed eyes. Mike's not sure of her reasons. All he cares is that it gives him a few precious hours of solitude, even if the house is still full of her presence. He stows his work clothes, both sets, away in the usual place. It's not the first time he's brought them home, after all. The phone and the scarf, though... those he needs to hide.
Dredging up Lissa may have been a mistake. It's almost physically painful to part from the scarf again. He has to look away when it finally drops from his fingers, a sad little pool of blue yarn once more. The door is freezing, but he leans against it anyway, just to feel a bit closer to her.
Stupid. His sister's not even here. The only thing she left in the scarf is her memory, and thank god for that. If Lissa could see what Mike's life has become, she'd...
What? Laugh at him for being such a pathetic excuse for a man? Turn away and declare herself an only child, like she used to every time he disappointed her? He doesn't know. It's been too long. He can't remember her well enough to say. That feels like the biggest tragedy of all.
Fuck it, Mike decides, and goes to bed. He doesn't bother hiding the phone, the bandages, the bruises. He's been awake too long. And while Aunt Sharon won't hesitate to go through his things, she doesn't bother him when he's asleep. He made it through two years of high school that way.
The last thing he hears before he drifts off is a soft female voice.
“You idiot...”
I know, he thinks muzzily. I know.
He wakes up late. That's the first strike. Then he remembers failing to clean up after himself the night before. That's strike two. And then, because he's an idiot, he tries to sneak out of the basement instead of meekly accepting his punishment. Strike three, you're out. Do not pass 'go', do not collect 200 dollars. Shut up, man up, let Aunt Sharon tell you everything you're doing wrong.
It's everything. He's doing everything wrong.
Mike doesn't know what to call these sessions. Scolding? It feels too harsh for scolding. Not teasing, either – teasing implies, you know, mirth and affection and other things Aunt Sharon is incapable of feeling, let alone displaying. The word 'abuse' sits poorly on his tongue. She never touches him, after all. Just tells him, very clearly, that he's a disgrace to everyone who ever loved him and especially her sister, god rest Margaret Schmidt's soul, and everyone will be glad when he's gone – which will be soon, if those bruises are any indicator. He bites his tongue and lets the pain settle over him as a reminder.
Stay quiet. Agree with her. Don't look her in the eye.
When she's done, he makes breakfast. He's better-rested than he has been in a while, but he still feels like a sleepwalker. His hands are moving without consulting him. At least they seem to know what they're doing. After breakfast, he does the dishes, and then he slides silently out the door before she can start again.
Once he's down the street and out of sight, squinting in the sun, he realizes he doesn't have anything to do today. It's too late to go to the corner store – his shift is already basically over. They won't be expecting him to call in sick. They know he doesn't have a phone.
Wait. He has a phone now. Mike pats his flat pockets with a sense of mounting dismay. Definitely empty. Great. First good thing he's gotten out of working at Freddy's and he already managed to forget it at Aunt Sharon's. Well, he's not going back for it now. He starts walking almost without realizing it, heading down a route he didn't know he'd memorized.
Maybe he can spend a few hours at the pizzeria. The food there is surprisingly good, from what he remembers, and almost affordable. And Fritz was supposed to talk to Scott today about the creep Bonnie thing, right? Despite the attitude, Mike almost likes Fritz, and Scott is okay. And he's supposed to be getting to know his coworkers. They can't complain if he drops in on their conversation, especially when the subject they're discussing is him.
It's decided. Mike heads for Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, feeling lighter than he has in months. The crowds part before him, whispers dogging his footsteps, but he can't bring himself to care. His shoulder hurts. His fingers hurt. His neck stings when he breathes.
He's starting to see why Ms. Sanchez called him 'fond of death', because it's doing nothing to dent his good mood.
Soon enough, he's passed into the empty lots that surround the pizzeria. The stares and the whispers are replaced with crumbling concrete foundations and overgrown grass. The only building in sight is a run-down wreck of a restaurant, topping with the ugliest neon sign this side of Vegas. Mike meets mascot Freddy's glazed eyes and smiles. Then he steps onto the parking lot, and something changes.
It's difficult to put the feeling of entering a new world into words. Babies must know the feeling, but they forgot it as they grow. Kids can remember some of it, probably – why else would there be so many stories about kids who get sucked into other universes? – but by the time you're an adult, the magic has faded. The certainty you felt as a child, when you were so sure climbing a tree would take you to Narnia, that your Hogwarts letter was coming on your 11th birthday, that one day you would turn the same old corner and find yourself somewhere you'd never been before – it all vanishes with age. Adults are resigned. Anchored in what they know. They have no reference point for such a childish faith.
Mike steps into Freddy Fazbear's empty, junk-filled parking lot and the parking lot breaks like a mirror smashed on the ground. Underneath is another parking lot, still junk-filled, no longer empty. A big black truck is parked outside the building. The back is open, like an ambulance. Unfamiliar figures in suits stand outside the vehicle, hands positioned carefully over concealed firearms. The automatic doors are propped open. Someone put a duffel bag over the sensors.
The guards looks up at his approach, their heads snapping toward him in eerie unison. Mike steps back slowly, keeping his hands very still. After a moment, they go back to keeping watch. He knows better than to think they've forgotten him.
What the hell going on?
A silhouette appears in the doorway. For a heart-stopping moment, Mike thinks it's a killer robot about to make a break for it. But the shape is wrong – too long, too blocky, not moving gracefully enough.
It's not an android. It's a stretcher, with what looks like a body on it. Two more people are positioned at either end, so focused on the occupant that they hardly even seem aware of their surroundings. Four more suited figures follow, guns out. They move in formation. Mike's never seen anything like it.
“Clear!” one of them barks, loud enough to carry.
“I see something moving!” another says, his tone uncomfortably high-pitched.
“Ignore it. Those things won't try anything once we're out of the building.”
And they are out, now. Mike watches, rooted to the spot, as the guards arrange themselves around the truck. The two with the stretcher ignore them, lifting it into the back of the truck.
Mike stops breathing. He can see the body now. There's so much blood the face is all but unrecognizable, but the uniform is familiar.
There was only one night guard on duty last night.
Mike's voice sounds strange to his ears. Distant. Alien.
“Scott?”
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Comments: 45
Yep, that's it. I don't have a reason to be happy anymore.
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I'm sorry? A new update is coming soon, I swear!
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It's taken a while to get to this point, hasn't it?
But finally, the plot is about to get properly under way!
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You got this my dude (but if you kill off Scott I will cry). But in all seriousness, I swear your writing just gets better and better.
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Thanks for the vote of confidence! (no spoilers~)
It really is heartening to hear you say that. DGCR is the first big fic project I've worked on, so it's amazing to hear that people are enjoying it.
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Just keep doing what you're doing, ik you got me and everyone else reading it strung along at this point lol. (you evil lil devil)
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Aw, you sweet talker!
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just having an existential freak out moment here.
you had to, didn't you?
you literary genius you.
you just had round about making Fritz reference the Brog...
literally foreshadowing the fact that Tina-Sapphire has both Mike and Fritz with potential futures with them both as androids.
Resistance is futile - the Borg.
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XD
It's a good quote, okay?
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it is 💚💚💚💚💚
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I got so excited when I saw this in my notifications. Keep up the good work! I'm really looking forward to the next chapter!
Why would the guy not look at the Cove? The idiocy is real.
Was that Lissa's ghost? Is that some sort of foreshadowing?
Poor Scott. Things just got intense.
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Glad to hear you were looking forward to this! I'm looking forward to the next bit, too~
Some people actually die from that on the first night. It is pretty silly, though.
No spoilers!
Intense? Oh, you sweet summer child. Things haven't even begun to get intense.
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Aren't we all?
Wait, seriously? That is just so... mere words cannot describe it. (Then again, who am I to talk? I've never done the game before...)
Now you've got me really hyped for the next chapter!!! I have to read more!!!!!
Oh. My. Gosh. Not even begun?!?!?! TO GET INTENSE?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?
(You really know how to keep us readers hooked, don't you.)
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Aw, you guys~
IKR?
Glad you're hyped! I am, too. Not a spoiler, but... what else happens on Night 4?
Are you ready for Freddy?
(I do my best~)
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Yes. The stupidity.
Everyone's on their toes for your next chapter! Oh? Wish I knew.
No I am not
(I envy your talents)
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In their defence, the game is an exercise in frustration.
No one ever is.
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So true though, so true.
I know right? XD
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I’ll have you know, I did not make an inhuman screeching noise when I saw this had updated. Nope. Not at all.
As soon as Jeremy mentioned that Scott was going into the murder pizza den on his own, I just knew it was curtains for him. Rip. I wonder, though, is this where Indigo comes in? Is he the replacement?
And wow, the scene talking about “walking into a new world” was like, soul-crushingly hopeless. The mention of Hogwarts just gripped my heart and squeezed. I can still feel it. It hurts.
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Good, because I didn't squeak embarrassingly when I saw your comment. Uh-uh. Not one bit.
No spoilers! But yeah, foreshadowing~
Bruised hearts are the best kind though!
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And my heart is not going crazy to see that you actually replied. No idea what you’re talking about.
Well, you said this was when the main plot was gonna start up, so he has to appear sometime, right? Why not now, when Mike is disoriented and confused and needs a friend (that totally won’t figuratively and literally stab him in the back...)?
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Then we're even. UwU
The plot is just beginning, though! Don't worry, Indigo will appear in good time. Although my interpretation of him differs significantly from Chris's. Consider yourself warned.
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“Consider yourself warned.”
My brain: honey, you’ve got a big storm comin’. *snaps*
(not as bad as what the boys are gonna have to deal with, honestly)
And I’m excited for how you see Indigo! I’ve always seen him a bit different from how Chris says he is, but that’s probably caused by my need to see the good in every character. Whoops.
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For them, the storm has barely even begun.
Alternate character interpretation is one of the crowning jewels of fandom! Right next to overly-thought out deity AUs and the entire concept of fic memes. I miss those so much...
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Boys better their umbrellas! Or just hop into a hurricane shelter...
Deity AUs? Oh, child, I could tell you stories. *Kicks half empty storybook/journal into the void* Of course, those tend to be more original characters than fan fiction, considering I cannot write others characters to save my life! How do you do it?
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Assuming a shelter will be enough to protect them, lol~
Basically? I found a fandom with very little canon and projected original characters onto the blank templates, with help from Chris. That's why my versions of the cast are noticeably different from Chris's and why my plot has very little to do with Scott Cawthon's - though that might be because HE KEEPS UPDATING WHILE MY BACK IS TURNED.
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I would, if I was strong enough to make it painful and tall enough to reach its face.
I feel like the characters wouldn't really have a place in this universe. We've got our main cast of characters, we don't need Charlie no-Last-Name-Given and her little typical-slasher-cast group tagging along and making everything even more complicated.
Rose? Has she been mentioned before? Another reason to reread everything. But as cool as it would be for ghost Rose to pop out and start telling Mike things, I get the feeling she's going to be a character that appears more in flashbacks or Fritz talking about her.
Oh my gosh, did I just influence the story!? Cool!
Of course, I might just go back and comment on every piece, but it'll all be good!
Aw shucks, you're gonna make me blush! UwO
Original stuff? Now I'm curious. Can I have a basis for these original things or must I wait till it's made available to the public to see what else you've got going on?
(Sorry it took so long to respond! I saw the comment way earlier when I was out and about, but I would've had to answer from my phone and it is so much easier from my laptop so I wanted to wait till I got home but then our wifi went out and it just came back up *cries*)
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You can do it! I believe in you!
Maybe. I don't know enough to be certain. And I was thinking more of post-fic cameos.
She appeared briefly in Pancakes , which serves as something of a prequel to the main fic, but hasn't really gotten a proper introduction yet. One day! No comment regarding any future ghost visitations.
Lol, maybe~ don't get used to it, haha.
That would be fantastic though??? Give me comments, I will hoard them like a dragon!
I can definitely share details, if you're interested. I'm currently working on Scrap Metal Angel, an urban fantasy novella I hope to submit somewhere before the end of August. Many urban fantasies have a hidden world and casually mention people whose job it is to keep magic a secret, MIB-style, so I decided to try and write something about them.
Scrap Metal Angel is the story of Gatekeepers Adrian Somer and Kade Mauzy, overworked defenders of reality itself, as they struggle against exhaustion, public opinion, and anyone desperate enough to go up against them. Behind them stand the Gates - seven phantasmal structures cutting off this tiny, fragile reality from the sea of chaos and nightmares that surrounds it. If they are opened, the world as it exists will be utterly changed. The First Gate is already open - has been since the beginning of recorded history. Now, it's up to Adrian and Kade to make sure that a grieving sorceress doesn't crack open the Second Gate in her quest to bring her lover back to life.
No accountability. No oversight. No breaks. And the world's always about to end.
Being a Gatekeeper is the least rewarding job in the world.
(It's okay! Phone keyboards are pain.)
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I'd use a stepping stool, but I don't have any balance and would fall off. Guess I'll have to settle for the throat. *shrug*
Oh. Yes. That'd make sense. Hahaha. (Ignore me.) But, do you really need the books to understand them? They're all a bit... stereotypical slasher kids. But you said you hate flat characters, and I've only read the first book so I might be missing something, but I'm sure you could make them into something great!
Are you saying comments are treasure?
Hmm, so what would happen if the first gate closed? Does reality change with every gate you go through, but go back to 'normal' when you go back? I hope you get it published! that sounds cool as all other worlds~ Is the world of the dead behind the seventh gate? Let me know when you get published!
(And yet, I'll still type a short story out to my friend when I get hit by inspiration.)
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Throat also works. More effective that way.
I'd still prefer to have read the books before I try writing them. Even stereotypical slasher kids can have depth... though I'll admit, they don't seem terribly interesting. The coolest thing so far is Charlie turning out to be an AI and that wouldn't be special in this AU.
Yes. Yes I am.
No one knows! It doesn't seem to work that way. Going through the closed Gates is prohibited, since just opening them will cause the End of the World As We Know It. The First Gate is okay to cross because it's open. It's been open for as long as thought and memory have existed. Perhaps there's a connection there. And it's theorized that death lies beyond the Second Gate, actually, which is why the antagonist is trying to open it.
Will do~
(You have my admiration. I hate phone keyboards so much.)
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Thank god for my mother, who taught me to always go for the Adam's apple!
Although I wouldn't do it, I must say I admire your dedication. You'll make them into something great, I'm sure.
Honestly, same.
Huh. Maybe if it closes, everyone just becomes frozen drones uncapable thought. And, well, you won't know what's behind those gates until you open them! But if death is behind the second, what lies behind the other five? Hmm... but she wouldn't have lots of interest in opening them, would she?
Yay!
(Is it determination or spite? The world may never know.)
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Indeed~
We'll see! But thanks for the vote of confidence.
Maybe. It's implied that life existed before the First Gate opened, but that it was fundamentally different in ways we can't understand. As for what lies beyond the others... who knows? And no, she's focused on the Second Gate. But then, it's one novella. I can see a few sequels waiting in the wings if this one turns out well~
(Both? Both. Both is good.)
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Oh, no prob, hun.
Hmm, well, we will see what happens if or when she succeeds, wont we? Lets hope she doesnt, or course. But, yknow, it is intriguing.
(Maybe the fact that I wrote this on a phone keyboard while sleep deprived as all hell because I didnot want to leave you hanging again says something about the fact that- yes, perhaps it is both.)
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Glad it caught your interest~
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Dude, I'd happily drown in a conversation about this story. I thrive off spoilers. And the way writers' eyes light up when they talk about their stories that they're passionate about! Two birds with one stone?
I got the Silver Eyes, read it, and then lended it to a friend and never saw it again, and ever since then I've been too traumatized to ever touch another FNaF book. *dainty gasp and swoon, a spotlight illuminating the single tear streaking down my cheek as the background sparkles around me*
But honestly, reading the books would only give the beast more power, since I've heard the handbook is like, the crowning puzzle of this enigma series. It'd be fun if Fritz is just randomly doing the word search or Jeremy passes one off to Scott's replacement and/or Mike in one chapter, though.
Is that how Indigo will appear? Or is that what you were talking about with Aunt Sharon? (Me, asking questions despite knowing you won't actually give me a spoiler ;-; ) Another question about Indigo... what do you think his last name is? Will he even have one? I don't ever recall Chris giving him one, so at this point I think we can just give him whatever surname we want and then hope no one asks why did you chose that one?
I'm sure you can do it! You've already made it to part 25! 25!!! That's a quarter of the way to a hundred! Trust me, I don't think I would've even made it to part 10. You are a strong soul and I commend your efforts! I believe in you!!!
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You have no idea how amazing it is to hear that~
I've heard of those books and considered reading them, but haven't gotten around to it yet. Would you recommend Silver Eyes?
It would be fun! But I'd need the actual puzzles to draw reference from.
No comment RE: Indigo. And it was more of a general statement about my writing habits! Really, it'll probably apply more to the androids, especially the Nightmares (when they finally appear), and to a few select human OCs. Who mostly exist because I had to come up with my own backstory way back when and I refuse to let go of it now that Scott's come up with his own. I don't think Indigo has a last name! Huh. Weird.
Thank you~ I'll certainly do my best. But seriously, I have adaptations of the first five games at minimum planned. At my pace, that's like, decades worth of fic. Kind of a scary thought~
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Dude! I'd be so excited if you ever wanted to talk to me at all??? Which is why I can't read these comments without smiling (take that, social anxiety!).
Honestly? It was... kinda unremarkable. All it really does is add some creepy details to William Afton and some actually flesh into the world of synthetic fur and wires. You can read if you want to, try and draw your own conclusions, but there's nothing in the books you can't find in a Game Theory/Dawko/other FNaF theory video. I know Game Theory quotes these books a lot- a lot- so... I'm kinda a completionist, but when I lost the book I only felt the urge to get another one and the second one, like, once.
Oooooh, I'm super excited to see the nightmares. And the toys. And everyone, honestly (including Fred's corpse, until he gets reactivated)! Good golly, I'm in love with this fic (and Broken Record. Relationships are moving in BR). Speaking of Human OCs, is that... Sandra girl(the one with the cheap black lipstick) coming back? It feels like there was too much detail put into her to just harass Mike once. Didn't someone mentioned she hung around a lot?
I gave him the last name Montoya. I didn't really know why, I just thought it fit with his name and vaguely Hispanic-thing he's got going on. I didn't know where it came from until I woke up one morning and the first thought on my mind was
Hello. My name is Indigo Montoya. You killed my past self. Prepare to die.
I have seen that movie once while half asleep, and yet, I subconsciously made a crappy joke/reference to it. Why can't I be this clever with my own characters?
(Also! I went back to Scott's ref sheet (for no reason at all hemhem) and saw that he had the accident on night four, but didn't actually bite the dust. I kinda just assumed that he'd already gone through it? I... I don't really remember if any of his dialogue mentioned hearing aids or yelling... welp, guess I'll have to go back and reread the entIRE FIC---
How unfortunate.)
Oh my, that's... quite the load to carry. I'd suggest getting co-authors, but I don't think anyone could do what you're doing as well as you! (Cheesy but true). All it takes is one strangely productive night/week and suddenly that workload doesn't look so big, right? And imagine how satisfying it's going to be when you finally finish it. It's like a marathon for writers--
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Punch social anxiety IN THE FACE.
I see... yeah, I'm not exactly enthralled by William Afton in the first place, so. I've been low-key considering adding the books to my fic, at least in terms of characters, but it's not exactly pressing. I'll probably set them on the back burner.
I am so looking forward to seeing everyone too, but ahhhhhh so much work! Oh my gosh, thank you??? (BR moves a lot faster, yeah~)
Sandra is absolutely coming back, yup. I don't make OCs to be one-off characters. She, Cindy, even Fritz's dead foster mom Rose... they'll all return in one form or another.
That's hilarious. I'm doing this now.
Ahahaha~ lol nope! This is pre-accident Scott. Well. it was pre-accident Scott. Lemme know what you think after re-reading it?
Aw, you sweetheart!
I wish I had more of those productive periods, but I'm also working on original stuff, and that takes precedence. A marathon for writers... that isn't exactly inaccurate.
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They got the jobs, and then the trauma that came with it. So, in a way? Both.
(Ugh, I live for characters that have more going on behind the scenes. Are Mike and Sharon going to have a bonding moment? Is she going to show up and ask questions at the pizzeria when Mike goes- quote, unquote- missing? Only time will tell...)
Oh, darling. Don't get curious about them. It'd be like going to a tap for a cup of water and then the damn breaking and drowning everything. It's a mess.
I'm pretty sure this is the end of Scott's meddling (ignore him being the origin of the story and concept) so whatever story this AU is going down, I'm pretty sure you won't be pulling your hair out over trying to figure how new lore and events and characters would fit in. Which is great! I'm sure you have very nice hair.
I mentioned before that I try to see good in every character, but sometimes I just... can't. It's all very black and white; when I villainize a character, I villainize them. (Severus Snape? I know he had a redemption arc, but I don't really care. I still hate him, and I'm bitter he's the face of my house. Why not Regulas or Andromeda or- I don't know- Merlin?) So all my real malicious characters have no real redeeming features and are always bad. I think I'm getting better, though! One of my favorite characters does some really problematic stuff because she wants to help the people close to her and has been cut off from society for a long time, and kinda becomes a catalyst going against the main cast...
Oh geez, that was longer than I meant. Sorry for the info-dump. (Like I said, ask any sort of question about my characters and I don't shut up...)
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More or less~
(Me too! As for the rest... no spoilers. 
All right, consider me warned. (As if DGCR isn't exactly the same thing, lol~)
Here's hoping! I still need to get my hands on scans of the night guard's handbook, though. Thanks!
I do understand, though I've got sort of the opposite problem most of the time: I hate flat characters, so I always try and read into them. Also, I'm just really weak for disturbed or 'broken' characters whose worldviews are fundamentally different from those around them. I like to take villainous traits and archetypes and try to imagine how a person like that could function. To a certain extent, you'll see that in DGCR, assuming I actually manage to get that far.
This fic is a monster...
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*Sigh* there is no winning for them, is there? (Trick question, they were screwed since the beginning. Although, if Aunt Sharon is really this terrible to him, maybe death would be ideal for Mike... no more dead end jobs and evil Aunts, right?)
Actually, before I stumbled into the little pocket of the fandom that was solely Chris, I did manage to form my own set for these characters (two actually!). They all eventually grew too much to be really traced back to the originals, so they are just original characters now? Whoops. Ah, well, no one will ever see them anyway.
Scott said he tries to make story aspects clearer in the next games when it is misinterpreted. Do you think he is as tired of all the updating as we are? Like, he sees that the fandom has an incorrect theory (again) so he just slams his head on the table and thinks, Alright, here we go again.
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The question is: were they screwed because of Freddy's, or did they stay at Freddy's because they were screwed? Chicken or egg, my friend... chicken or egg.
(No comment! I will note that Aunt Sharon isn't quite as two-dimensional as Mike sees her right now. She's certainly not a good person, though.)
Now I'm interested, lol! I stumbled across Chris very early in my FNAF days, so their characters have always been the base for my interpretations.
It's certainly possible! And like, it's not that I can't see where he's going with canon, but I put so much effort into this AU back when there was only one game out and DAMNED IF I WON'T FINISH IT AS INTENDED.
Also I just don't like the idea of everything being traced back to one guy. Come on. It's never that simple in real life. It takes two to tango, and to really screw things up, you need at least four or five people working at cross-angles. And most of them will think they're doing the right thing.
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I'm ready, so ready for night four lmao.
Also, RIP whoever died, if it was Scott, I imagine him popping back alive on the gurney, scaring the shit out of the medics. xD
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Glad someone's ready! The night guards sure weren't.
We'll have to wait and see~
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Of course not! LMAO
We shall~ x3
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