#moon fnaf | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

happysaddca · 10 hours

Text

This is. Incredibly self-indulgent and requires context.

You are a veteran FazCo employee who worked as a janitor (and eventually dates that location's DCA) when the Glitchtrap virus infects the plex. Unlike the game, this virus affects all the mega pizzaplexes, and it leads to you getting mauled by Moon. You nearly die, the DCA is deactivated and replaced after the virus mysteriously vanishes, and eventually you start working at a new plex, with a new DCA and staff.

After a long and bumpy road, you finally have your DCA's chips installed in a functional animatronic. It's time for a reunion.

Parts and Service still creeps you out, even with the changes the tech team here made. At the very least, you’re allowed to wait in the cylinder instead of outside with everyone else.

You take a peek through the glass, catching Gemma and Anika watching you. Your body locks up, and you manage a stiff little wave before focusing on Sun behind them. Sun isn’t watching you (at least, you’re pretty sure he’s not). Sun’s watching the body on the table. Your turn back to it as well.

It’s another Daycare Attendant unit, currently completely off. The color changing material of the animatronic’s pants and paint sits at a muted, muddy brown color, the light not bright enough to bring out Sun’s colors but too bright for Moon’s. When you touch its faceplate, it’s cold, unmoving. It’s an older model, a spare body for the DCA standing outside. And it currently holds the chip that is your

That is your Sun and Moon.

“Everything good in there?” Gemma’s voice is tinny over the speakers. You nod quickly, giving a thumb’s up. “Okay, I need you to back away for a second. Gotta plug in and give the OS one last check before we power them up.”

“Okay.” You give a reluctant half step back, then another at Gemma’s prompting, retreating closer to the wall and the people outside. Overhead, electricity thrums as the diagnostics and repair tools come online, a cable snaking down to plug into the back of the animatronic’s head. “You’ll warn me when they’re about to be turned on, right?” No answer. “Guys?”

The sounds overhead changes, with a chime sequence signaling that no, you were in fact not being warned ahead of time.. Some pseudo-soothing, corporate beeps that remind you of commercials advertising anti-depressants begin, but when you go to approach the body again, the speaker crackles on.

“Stay right there.”

“But I want—” You’re cut off before you can even turn to face the trio waiting outside.

Anika’s frown is made more severe by scarring distorting her forehead.

“We don’t know how they’re going to react to being woken up for the first time in three years. For them, it’s only been a moment since they shut down, and we don’t really know how that… hey. Don’t look like that. I thought you’d already worked past the guilt.”

“No, I have. But. I.” Another chime sequence has you whipping back around, but there’s no change. You shift so you can keep half an eye on what’s happening while you’re talking to everyone on the outside.

“Sunshine.” Sunny speaks over Anika, leaning forward to take the microphone. “Think about what might happen if they come online and hurt you.”

“It’d be—”

“It’d be an accident, but.” Sunny holds up one long finger, indicating that you should wait. You look back at the table again, but there’s still nothing to indicate what’s going on. “Friend, turn your screen around. They’re going to be fretful unless they know what’s going on.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Gemma turns one of the monitors around, showing off a series of progress bars that you don’t know what they mean. She taps the monitor. “Once this hits a hundred percent, they’ll boot up.”

“Thank you.” The lump in your throat eases, just a little. You stare at the little bars slowly working its way up.

“Sunshine.” Sunny catches your attention with his talking-to-children-about-complex-topics voice. “We should stay here until the other attendant wakes up and has a moment to process that they aren’t affected by the virus—and that they’re safe.”

“As safe as they can be in here,” you mumble, and Sunny’s smile widens as he gives a small nod, setting the microphone back on the table. The progress bar fills ever so slowly, and any noise behind you makes you twitch and look back at the animatronic with concern. Your palms itch, suddenly slick, and you wipe at them quickly before shoving them in the pockets of your overalls.

Overalls. You are bringing back your oldest, dearest friend that you’ve not seen in years and you’re wearing the world’s most fucked up, stained overalls. And that does count farmers and mechanics around the world. You take a peek at the progress bar and—how has it jumped up 30% already? It had been dragging just a minute ago! There’s now no way you can slip away into something better, and of course you couldn’t have gone anyway.

The noise from overhead changes, and there’s an error sound, sharp and blunt, followed by the mechanical squeak of the monitor getting jerked back around to Gemma. “Anika, can you grab the thingie?”

“The thingie?”

Gemma gestures vaguely behind her and Sun, who is standing frozen, rays partially retracted as he stares at the table. Anika zips off to find whatever it is Gemma needs, but you’re turning away again, watching as the spare daycare attendant unit twitches.

“Sun?” you ask, stepping closer. The animatronic twitches again, one hand, then a whole leg, spastic and out of control like it’s being electrocuted in bits and pieces. Their rays start to poke out, then snap back into place with an audible click. One gets stuck, tangled up in white and blue fabric. “Moon, Sun, it’s okay,” you say, voice barely audible over their fans starting and immediately going into overdrive. “You’re safe. It’s me.”

“Sunshine!” Sunny’s voice breaks when you are close enough to touch the twitching attendant’s foot.

Your ears pop as the doors open, and you twitch, turning just enough to hold out a hand. “Sunny, it’s okay. I know but… they’re glitching out. I think they’re going to Eclipse.”

“All the more reason to stay away!”

“You stay there if it makes you comfortable, but if they’re Eclipsing…” You turn back in time to catch the rays spring out, a handful caught in the hat, shredding into it. “I’m staying. Sun? Moon?”

There’s no reply from the animatronic, just more twitching and spasming. You want to free the rays from their hat, but this early model has no silicone softening the metal edges. They’re just a bunch of very dull knives and with no consciousness controlling their movements. You settle for touching their shoe instead, feeling the twitching of their actuators. Are they in pain? Can they feel anything at all?

“Hey, be careful in there! I’m unplugging the cords now and sometimes they can be a little whippy.” You grimace, pulling away as far as you could without relinquishing your touch over the moon patch. You give a thumbs up without looking away.

The cords are a little whippy, jerking away from the table and snapping back into the ceiling with such force that it makes them look alive. You hate Parts and Services.

“We’re at ninety percent now. Sunny, if you can step back? We don’t know how they’ll react to another Attendant hovering.”

“Right… right.” Sunny’s voice is closer, and you’re surprised to find he’d crept well inside the cylinder, the distance between the two of you halved. He holds his hands up, retreating back to the door. You stare and he gives a timid little shrug, his faceplate tilted towards the now waking animatronic.

You’ve been around FazCo branded animatronics for ten years now, been in love with one, this one, for almost as long. Even in a new body, even Eclipsed, you know they’re waking from the change in their fans, slowing briefly with a little click clatter click before returning to overdrive. The foot under your hand twitches one last time before stilling and pulling away.

There’s static, climbing up your arm and into your mind as you look up. There’s static there too, a thin, trembling stream from Eclipse’s hidden speakers. They’re staring at you, eyes locked on. You shift, and they shift, ever so slightly, eyes tracking the scars visible on your face.

“Eclipse?” you ask, holding a hand up as they start to answer. “No, it’s okay. I-I am happy to see you. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re both safe, right?”

You have to walk around the table. They still watch you, hands limp at their side until you reach for the nearest one. They flinch away, dragging their hand into their lap, claws catching on the coarse material of their waist ruffle. Once, a long time ago, you’d asked about those claws and Moon had explained they used to play stringed instruments, just like the glamrocks did now.

“You won’t hurt me,” you tell them, taking their hand anyway and squeezing it so hard you can feel a joint in your wrist pop. You toy with one of the claws with your thumb, worrying the little gear that makes it flip back into their fingers, sighing softly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

You look up to see them staring at you, and despite things, you give a little laugh. A wet laugh, something sticking in your throat uncomfortably. “It wasn’t you Moon.”

You don’t know how or when, but a cold hand brushes over the ruined half of your face, stroking the skin just under your eye. It pulls back, metal shiny with tears. You laugh again, hiccuping and holding your free hand up to your face as you force yourself to calm down. “I’m okay. I’m here. You’re here. I missed you so much you big stupid dummy.”

You can’t wait any longer, so you throw yourself at Eclipse, worming your hands under their arms, tucking your face carefully under their faceplate, away from the metal rays. They can’t see you crying like this, but it’s an ugly messy, human thing and their neck ruffle is horrifically itchy. The slow weight of hands on your back make you sob, voice breaking.

There’s a few minutes that are likely very awkward for everyone not currently on or half on the cylinder’s table, but you don’t notice any change until there are claws digging in your back. “Eclipse,” you mumble, lifting your head, but the hands pin you to their torso. “Eclipse, what’s wrong?”

“I-it might be me!” Sunny’s voice trips over itself. “I, we, all of us wanted to make sure you were okay?”

“I’m okay,” you say, a little too softly at first. You feel up for Eclipse’s cheek, stroking it gently. “‘Clips, let me up. Sunny isn’t going to hurt us.”

The hands dig, and you can feel those claws in your skin, but they loosen as you continue to push up. You settle on the table a little awkwardly, perched to avoid hurting Eclipse with your weight. You wipe at your eye, trying to clear your vision, before taking Eclipse’s hand again. “Sorry Sunny. I know things aren’t going as planned but…” You clear your throat, smiling weakly. “Sunny, this is Clips. They Daycare Attendant from my old plex. Eclipse, this is Sunny. He’s the Daycare Attendant here in Sandusky. He uh, he helped convince me it was worth trying to save you.” You hesitate. “He and his Moon went through it too,” you say more softly. Eclipse’s grip tightens on you and Sunny grimaces. “We’ll talk about it later, when everyone’s recovered. Sunny, move.” You gesture and he gives you a confused look before stepping out of the way.

Anika and Gemma are staring through the thick plexi of the cylinder. Gemma’s mouth is hanging open, but Anika looks vaguely smug. You hold up your entwined hands in a wave. “That’s Gemma and Anika. Gemma helped get this body back online and you in it, and Anika helped me save you. We saved you.” Oh, you’re starting to cry again.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” Gemma’s voice is clipped, and she turns her monitor back to you. You can just barely see some graphs and charts, but the orangey-red lines, and the continued strain of Eclipse’s fans clue you in before Gemma can.

“Oh, oh, Eclipse, you need to restart with just one of you fronting.” You turn back to them, catching them staring at you once again. You twist around to hold their face, stroking over the edge and the craters, finding the large swirl of an eyebrow before you reach their hat. They flinch as you pull at it. “I know. But I’ll stay right here the entire time. I won’t even let go of your hand.”

“Sunshine, that’s—”

“I’m staying right here Sunny,” you say, a little more sharply than you meant to sound, but the intent remains. You don’t look away from Eclipse, leaning forward to press a kiss over the moon’s eye. “I am staying right here. You can restart. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Eclipse stares, and there’s a long, long minute where you worry they’re going to refuse until they burn out but finally there’s a soft stream of static and a nod. Eclipse leans forward as you pull on their hat, freeing it incrementally from their rays. The light from their eyes dims and goes out, their fans slowing a couple minutes later. You pull the hat free successfully, their hand slipping from yours as you check over the fabric. It’s torn and greasy where it’d gotten caught in the gears, but you can probably fix it, if they want. Or perhaps you’ll be able to get help remaking their old hat, if that’s what they preferred.

“Is everything all right?” Sunny’s voice is quiet, and his hand is soft as it rests on your shoulder. You twitch but don’t pull away, watching your attendant’s faceplate intently for any flicker of light. “They’ll turn on again.”

“I know they will. But will they be able to let go? It’s got to be Moon, I think. It’s always been more willing to take control.” Sunny’s gentle verbal prodding compels you to continue. “Sun’s a softie, even if she does have a spine about the rules, her rules. The ones that are important to her. She tried so hard…” You trail off into a cough, swallowing back the lump wrong and making it worse on yourself. You have to wipe at your eyes again, sniffing hard. “But if Moon is scared or upset, they might Eclipse again.”

The startup is quieter, so you miss it in your talking to Sunny, until you feel more than hear the thrum of the animatronic’s inner workings. Sunny steps back, out of reach, when the rays retract, one at a time, jerkily, like the mechanism controlling them is unfamiliar to the Moon currently in control. Because it’s Moon who is waking up now, and it’s Moon’s gravelly voice that lets out a surprised noise when you immediately push into a hug.

“Starlight?”

The nickname is enough to make you cry again, and you squeeze him so tightly your arms hurt. “I’m here Moony. I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again.”

#dca au #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant #constellations au #fnaf dca #dca #dca fandom #moon fnaf #sun fnaf #eclipse fnaf #dca ocs #reader insert #gender neutral reader

18 notes · View notes