It’s Upload Night!

Actually, now that I think about it, it might have been Upload Night last week, but I’ll be honest with you, I seriously injured myself and I spent most of the last several weeks in a haze of painkillers and most of the time, I had no idea what day or month it was. The only reason I still remembered the year is because this particular year is 2020 and ain’t nobody who’s lived through this year is ever going to forget it.

Anyway, I apologize if I missed an upload. I know I’ve been bad about that. Obligatory ‘I swear I really thought I’d be done with this whole series by now,’ but I did not foresee that Fate has apparently been setting up a glorious Rube Goldberg’s machine designed to take five friggin years to make toast or whatever the end goal was, and the little metal marble of this metaphor representing my body’s health has been tumbling around ever since, riding baskets and knocking down dominos and bouncing me from one medical crisis to another, but HOPEFULLY, the end is in sight.

Not that end. Don’t be so dramatic.

I have been feeling better in these last few months than I have in years. I have every reason to be optimistic about what the next few years will bring. That’s part of the problem, actually. I feel so good, I’ve been much more active, after spending most of the last several years in and out of a wheelchair, and as a result, I have maybe been overextending myself, which has led me to take a couple falls, which has led to some new injuries. Hence my Rube Goldberg metaphor.

Not to be a downer or anything, but if this cartoon was 2020, it’s worth noting that we’re still waiting on the metaphorical iron to burn through our metaphorical pants.

Anyway, all of this is to tell you that I may have missed last week’s upload, but I’m here now and there is a new chapter of my FNAF fanfic, Everything Is All Right, Part IV: New Faces, Old Bones up on fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.org, so if I’ve left you on a cliffhanger (and I know I did), head on over and check out the new chapter! I’m giving Freddy and friends kind of a break this week. I know, I know, I’m too kind.

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Watching Freddy come together was a weird feeling for Bonnie. He couldn’t really call it ‘interesting’. Mechanics had never been one of his interests, which, okay, was probably ironic on some level, although it wasn’t like every human was interested in biology, so it couldn’t be that ironic. So he wasn’t ‘interested’, but there had to be a word for the reason he couldn’t look away. He wasn’t interested, he was…fascinated. Fixated? Mesmerized. He was…he didn’t know. Chica would know. He wished he could ask her. Ana was so deep in the job, she probably wouldn’t even hear him if he hollered a question across the room, but while Yoshi sure seemed to know his stuff, he didn’t lose himself in it like Ana did. Too nervous, Bonnie guessed. He kept consulting his photos, checking and double-checking the schematics, putting each part through a checklist of identification and confirmation before he brought it to the table, and meanwhile, there was Ana, snapping stuff together like Legos. The contrast was amazing, but he didn’t think that was the only reason he couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t like he’d never seen a build before. For the most part, he was in the vault when it was time for the others to get redone, but not always. If nothing else, he’d taken his own turn on the table a couple times, and even if his endoskeleton hadn’t been redesigned to the same extent as Foxy’s, he’d still gone through it. He’d had to walk up to the construction pad and stand there while the Lift dug under his casings and clamped onto his bones. Then the Scoop ripped his old skin off and the air gun blasted his bones clean. Then the Lift took him to the table and after he was locked into his restraints, down came the Spider.

It had a real name, but ‘blah-blah-blah-automated-fabricator’ could have meant any of the devices cluttering up their Creator’s workshop. By the time Bonnie was being reskinned for the opening of Circle Driver, all their creator’s old wordy inventions had short, simple names, and you sure didn’t need to know what the Spider did to know which one it was when you were looking at it. It had eight huge jointed arms capped with opposing digits for precise manipulation and at least as many smaller appendages, pencil-thin and lightweight, each one fitted with a specialized head—a drill, a pincer, a blade—all connected to a central unit containing the device’s essential systems, which was suspended by a number of writhing cables. He could still remember how it felt that first time, watching it descend out of its homing pad on the ceiling, unfolding all those legs as it came closer, clicking and humming to itself in what might have seemed a distracted manner if Bonnie were the kind of guy to humanize machines, which he wasn’t. Then it went to work, all its legs in motion all at once, deactivating his limbs and plucking them off so fast, he almost didn’t have time to be afraid, but at least he didn’t have to watch the whole time. Just until it pulled out his eyes.