the Skin-suit au,, a tale of readerbot and body horror 💕💕💕
(could also be called the Hello Again au uwu)
Basically! Yknow how it’s been canonized that the security breach location has a scooping room?? Well that got me thinking! And basically,
What if Readerbot pulled an Ennard?
There's some kind of big 'accident' at the 'plex- all you know is there are dead people on the floor, there's an alarm going off somewhere, and you know, with a sinking feeling and a growing terror, that you, and every other animatronic in this place, are doomed for deconstruction. Whoever it was that killed these people- oh, god, these people... what had they even done, for this to have been done to them? Anything?- has officially doomed this place. There will be no walking back from this. Someone somewhere is screaming. If you hadn't known better, you would have thought it was you; more than ever, you know that if you had a voice box you would have screamed until it broke.
You're scared, of course you're scared- you don't want to be deconstructed, to be dismantled down to your bare parts and tossed or repurposed. You're not alive, you know that, of course you do, but the fear feels as real as the blood soaking the bottoms of your feet.
You don't want to die.
But what could you do? There's no where you could hide, not in this place, especially not if... he, thought you deserved the dismantling the rest of your kind would be getting and decided to hunt you down himself. You can't just run, you're not fast, and where would you go? There would be nowhere in the world for a staff-bot, not even one meant to fix things. You're not a human- you'll never know that kind of freedom, to run and hide and go wherever you wanted...
You stare down at the bodies, at the way your shadow falls over them.
You're not a human, but...
Out of all the animatronics in the 'plex, you're one that looks the most like one.
And the 'plex has an old machine, down in the subbasement. The kind that used to be used to take endoskeletons out of their shells.
You hate yourself with every fiber of your being as you drag one of the people down to the old, boarded up room. You hate the feeling of the cold, dead weight scraping across the floor as you lay them in the center of the desolate space. You hate the sound of the machine coming to life and the dull crunch of it doing it's intended purpose. You hate the color red, and you hate the wet, heavy feeling of the disguise you are forcing yourself into. Then the clothes... You were never allowed to wear clothes, maybe a hat if you were lucky. You find that you hate wearing clothes. You hate the way you've contorted your body into this... suit. You hate what you've done to create it. But you can hear sirens outside, now, and people screaming.
You don't want to die.
So, wearing the skin of a person who never asked to be killed, you run, and hope that the person who owned this skin, whoever they were, will understand what you've done and have a little pity on you.
But you are not a person. You are not alive.
Years later, you've found ways to hide in plain sight.
It's not that different from what you did when you worked at the 'plex, really, only now you're wearing your newest 'disguise' and several layers of clothes on top of that, and no one knows that really you're an animatronic gone AWOL. You can go out early in the morning or late at night and purchase the little things you need, or find something broken but interesting and take it home to fix it up. Later, you can sell these things to get the money you need to stay in places and buy other small things you can use to fix other things. It's a small life, but it's... yours.
You don't have any friends, and no one really talks to you like you are one of them, but that's okay. The story you have to explain your silence and whatever other oddities you display is that you grew up with a 'condition.' You've started to carry around an old handheld that you can type sentences into and then have it say them aloud, at least until you've perfected your make-shift voicebox a little more. It's still a work in progress, but having your own voice was something you'd always dreamed of...
Sometimes you need to fix yourself. Your legs hadn't been built to last forever, especially not in the real outside world like this. So, sometimes, you had to search through old scrap yards for pieces and parts you could use. It was... gruesome work, yes, but you liked to think that these strangers didn't mind you using what was left of them. In a way, it helped to think that you were... helping them to live on, in some weird, morbid way.
You were on one of your junk-yard expeditions when you found a couple of crates marked through with 'DEFUNCT- DESTROY IMMEDIATELY' and, getting your hopes up, decided to pry them open. When you saw the insides, you paused. You looked again at the writing on the crates- faint and worn out, almost invisible under the 'defunct' stamps, you could just make out the old Freddy Fazbear's logo.
You spent hours combing through the containers one by one, stuffing things into your pockets and loading up your duffle with odd miscellaneous things that brought back such clear memories you could practically hear the band on the stage, the happy cries and laughter of the kids, the cheerful banter of the other animatronics... You found an old Monty toy that had once opened and closed its jaws at the push of a button, but the spring had long since broken or fallen out entirely. It was very sad looking, discolored and worn, but it still had his glasses. You stuffed it into your jacket. You didn't want to dwell on the choking sadness these things brought to you, but to leave them here would hurt even more.
And then you had broken open the last one, and, amongst the shreds of soggy paper and bits of debris, lay a familiar animatronic.
The daycare attendant, after all this time, had found you again- or, really, you had found him.
(skinsuit!readerbot takes the dca home and tries to fix them up, only to realize that they don't recognize them as the old staffbot from the 'plex, nor do they realize that they aren't human. shenanigans ensue,, including at some point Sun sees readerbot take the skin off their hand, fix a stuck joint, then put the skin back on. Moon does not believe him)
(yes they all fall in love)
(im a basic bitch ok leave me alone idk what u were expecting)
