MoonlightMoth

Guys help pls I dont have any ideas how to name this AU. It just isnt far enough from canon to name it something REALLY specific, and i just found out that names that i like were already taken or, WHAT DO YOU MEAN you call a magnificent, beautiful шатер a fucking circus tent😭😭😭

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You were quiet. Too quiet.

You didn't know why...

Why they dragged you here...

This place looked like a laboratory...

And it was scary.

You shouldn't be here...

Oh, absolutely shouldn't be here...

But they dragged you here.

You didn't know what would happen.

While you were lost in your thoughts, someone pushed you through the door.

You looked up at your knees, not in your face.

You put your hands out just in time.

And then you heard.

"Experiment 1006."

The voice was hoarse, as hoarse as possible.

"You better get out, or else."

The voice was clearly threatening.

At that moment, you looked around.

The room was dimly lit in some places.

And the darkness was unsettling.

You looked into the darkness of the room and thought you heard someone breathing.

You didn't know if it was an auditory hallucination.

Or if there really was something there in the darkness.

Then...

A clawed hand appeared from the darkness.

You stared at the hand in fear.

And then you saw a yellow-orange light.

You didn't move, afraid.

*One wrong move, and I'm finished*

Then a head appeared.

And to your surprise, it was wearing the Jester's hat?

*I don’t know who came up with this, but he’s just a genius*

You thought to yourself sarcastically.

The body turned out to be completely goat-like, with the lower part of the body looking like a beetle.

And he was huge.

At least five times your height.

He lowered his human-eating torso closer to you.

You didn't move.

His face, or was that a mask?

It was a few inches from yours.

You flinched slightly.

He shook his head to the left.

"I never thought you'd live to see this, but that's moment, Harley Sawyer."

He spoke...

He spoke in equal voices...

What...

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!

"Yes, a person who's practically related to you."

*What...?*

You thought to yourself, looking at...

This thing?

Or whatever this creature is called?

"Prototype, they brought you a child who is, so to speak, your nephew."

*WHAT??? HAVE, THEY GONE ABSOLUTELY CRAZY THERE OR WHAT???*

While you were going crazy inside.

To your surprise, the creature carefully and tenderly picked you up in his arms.

He looked toward the window, where the three scientists, Harley Sawyer, and Leith Pierre were visible.

He looked at you the same way.

You looked...

Seriously scared, so unaware of what was happening around you.

He pulled you closer to him.

And whispered softly.

"Elena..."

Hearing your mother's name, you looked at him.

"How...?"

You couldn't wrap your head around it.

This creature in the jester's hat is...your uncle?

"You really don't look much like her, but...I'm glad I can hold you in my arms."

He said, placing his "chin" on the top of your head.

And at that moment you felt sleepy.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and as you drifted off, you heard indistinct voices.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You ran as fast as you could.

A crazy purple cat chased after you.

"Angel, I told you you should have turned me away!"

Dogday shouted in your ear.

"Leave you to your fate? Damn it."

Before you could finish your sentence, Catnap was already in front of you.

By the way there was another turn and you ran as fast as you could.

While you were running with your companion on your shoulders,

The cat started chasing again.

You didn't know how much longer you were running.

But you managed to break away from Catnap.

"Whew," you exhaled.

"That was a big deal, Angel... you could have died."

"But I'm still alive, right ?"

You said, looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah..." he said, not taking much of a deep breath.

*It must have really taken a toll on him*.

You thought about it and looked apologetically at the human or child trapped in the toy.

*I really need this to stop.*

I thought to myself, you were heading to the gas supply area, where there were also other toys.

Huggy Waggy, Kissy Missy, Minnie Huggy, Bonzo Bunny, Mommy Longlegs, Poppy, PJ Pug, and several miniature smiling creatures, +now Dogday too.

Were you partly curious about what awaited you next?

It would have been better for you not to think about it.

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

You and the toys you'd found again, namely MLL and Huggy, were looking for Sweet Street.

You didn't know where it was, but somehow you found it. You also found notes about a woman named Gracie Green.

You administered your own medicine.

How did you show it to MLL and Huggy? Their faces were quite manic.

And so, at least half an hour later, you found yourself in a rather strange situation.

Namely, captured by "Miss Gracie," or now Lily Lovebraids.

*Why can't anything happen without chasing or completing tasks?* You thought to yourself, irritated.

And then you saw HIM.

Did his appearance seem familiar to you?

You've seen him somewhere, but where?

While you were thinking, he had already started talking to you.

"And you, my dear, shouldn't have come back here."

You looked at him in confusion.

Before you could answer...

Lily was trying to hurt Poppy.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

You ran as fast as you could.

And tried to ignore the screams.

The voices HE used.

While you were running, you couldn't understand him...he wasn't harsh towards you...and you don't know why?

As you ran, you tripped, and HIS hand grabbed you through the window.

"AAAH..."

By now you only had time to scream, and you were confronted by a nightmarish jester.

"Gotcha. Now I'll definitely let you in go ."

He said he jumped off the train.

"Now you're at home, dear niece, rest."

*What is he talking about?*

And then you started remembering.

"Uncle?"

You whispered nervously.

"Yes," he said, pulling you close.

"You're my only family."

Well, I hope you appreciate this fanfic.

Fire roared in the Prototype’s chest as he snatched you up in his claws, spindly fingers wound tightly around your chest and his other hand rising, pointed, sharp, to skewer you alive.

“No!” Poppy cried, desperate and wild-eyed, but it was too late, the Prototype’s claws bearing down upon your spine, intent on ripping through.

You would join Huggy and Kissy in death, he thought viciously, victoriously, and then there would be no one left for Poppy to cling to. Run to. No one except -

Poppy’s gasp tore the Prototype from his thoughts, his eye swinging from her startled gaze to your body, slumped over the splay of his claws. You were silent. Still. Exactly as he’d wanted. Yet there was no blood bubbling from your back, no squelch of parted muscle and sinew, no wound, just the fabric of your torn shirt tangled about his claws and the bumps of your spine shuddering beneath his touch.

“Wh—at… is thIS?” the Prototype hissed, drawing back his hand to strike you once more. As before, his claws glanced along your spine and paused, a bare half-inch shy of sinking inside your meat and cleaving your flesh from bone. No amount of pressure would drive them through your skin.

“This can’t -” Poppy’s voice rose above his grunts of effort, her small hands hovering over her mouth and a stunned expression on her cracked face. “You… you can’t be - ”

The Prototype bared his jagged teeth at her. Something was prodding at his mind, trying to fight its way through the rage clouding his vision - the same thing, he feared, that had put that expression of shock onto Poppy’s damaged face. “Be… qUIET.”

“No,” Giblet gulped, paws clutching tightly at his bat. He cowed as the Prototype turned a burning orange pupil his way, but continued, voice trembling, “She’s - she’s right. You can’t hurt ‘em. That means - ”

The Prototype would not allow him to finish, claws twitching in preparation for a strike, only for small, filthy, human fingers to reach out and grab them, flesh wounding tightly around metal.

His narrow chest heaved on a trapped roar at your audacity, voice box crackling with static as he twisted his head to look at you. You seemed just as surprised by your actions as he, arms outstretched to reach his claws and an expression of stunned terror on your face, yet you refused to release him, your throat bobbing on a swallow before you dared to open your mouth and speak.  

“Stop.” Your voice was barely more than a rasp, thickened from the smoke pouring into the air from the damaged train. You coughed before you could try again, fingers firming around his. They were warm, the Prototype noted, and smudged with dirt from your journey through the factory. “Just… stop. Please.”

The Prototype released you, so abruptly you nearly crumpled to the floor at his feet, a soft grunt spilling past your lips as your rump struck the concrete. 

He had never heard your voice before, he realized - only the voices of those who encountered you. The Prototype filed it away, almost entirely subconsciously, and forced his spidery limbs to retreat a half-step from your folded form. 

“Go.” The word was nearly lost in static, grating along his voice box like shards of glass. 

Poppy drew in a sharp breath at the command but seemed to rally herself quickly enough, silently urging Giblet and yourself to join her near the door with a frantic wave of her hand. Giblet waddled over immediately, paws squeezed tightly around his electric bat, but you lingered, face upturned and fixed on his, the GrabPack’s handles left unmanned, as though you had nothing to fear.

Of course you didn’t. Because he couldn’t hurt you.

Incensed at the reminder, the Prototype bared his crooked teeth in a snarl. “GO,” he roared, legs digging furrows into the floor as he bore down upon you. It was only then, with the floor trembling beneath his bulk, that you scrambled toward Poppy and ducked out of sight through the open door, the pounding of your footsteps lost amid the chaos of smashing concrete and the shriek of static as the Prototype lay to waste everything in his path.

*

The fire raged for hours, or so it felt. By the time the flames had begun to smolder at his back, the Prototype had lost all sense of time. He merely… was, existing in a limbo of smoke and silence, his spidery limbs spread akimbo and his skeletal arms hanging limply by his sides. 

His bells swung idly with each sway of his head, their muted tinkling swallowed by the sputter of flames as the wreckage of the train continued to burn, and yet the Prototype did not rise, did not speak, did not summon his underlings to hunt you and Poppy down. Could not, for the weight of your continued existence - the weight of who you were pressing down upon his shoulders.

He couldn’t harm you. You, an intruder, an outsider. You, who had bumbled your way through every trial he’d thrown at you, every foe, every trap. You, who most deserved to be skewered by his claws.

He had tasted your death the moment his claws had wrapped around your torso, Poppy’s large, haunted eyes fixed on his jagged smile as he had prepared to strike. And yet.

And yet you lived. Because he could not harm you. Could not kill you. 

Because you were -

A last-standing chunk of debris near his left side exploded as his claws raked across it, concrete and dust raining down onto the damaged train tracks. The small act of destruction did nothing to alleviate the bitter desperation curdling in his gut, the truth of what you were - what you must be, if his claws had failed to pierce your flesh - settling over the Prototype’s narrow shoulders like a shroud.

His soulmate. 

The word dripped with disquiet, disdain, even within the sanctity of his own mind, and yet -

And yet. 

It set his jagged teeth on edge, but it was impossible to deny the spark of… of sentiment in his chest at the idea of anyone, even you, being his. Solely his. He had tried for years to force Poppy into that roll, to build a paradise for them both, and look where that venture had left him - alone. 

… well. Not completely.

It didn’t register with him at first, but eventually the crunch of gravel managed to penetrate the static in his head - the crunch of footsteps, soft but sure, and slowly making their way toward him. 

He knew who it was without lifting his head. Of course he did. 

“LeAVE”, he hissed, slipping into a mimicry of Doey’s voice, angry and wrathful, without thought. 

A sigh spilled from your lips, swallowed up in the crackling of the flames at his back, followed by a soft grunt as you settled on the ground a few feet away from him.

The Prototype tilted his head, bells jingling softly. You were there, of course, just as he knew you would be, your knees tucked against your chest and your chin pillowed on your folded arms. You had discarded your GrabPack. The Prototype wondered if that meant you’d found a way out. If Poppy had found a way out. Somehow, the thought didn’t summon the rage he had expected it would.

You didn’t speak, not even as his gaze caught yours. You merely… watched him. Studied him. It incensed him, the weight of your gaze bristling along the bumps of his spine and down into his arms. His claws carved out divots into the floor.

“Wh—at do you wANT?” he rasped, the words wreathed in static.

Your throat bobbed. “I don’t know,” you confessed quietly, rubbing a dirty hand over your face and only succeeding in smudging your cheeks with more dirt and dust. “I guess I… I couldn’t leave you behind.”

The Prototype’s claws screeched around fistfuls of concrete. “W…wHYY?” It came out hurt, his voice nearly a whine, too much like Ollie’s. He clenched his teeth and reached for a blend of Mommy’s and Poppy’s voices instead, his cadence accusatory, nearly a growl. “Be—cause of… wHAT I… aM?”

“Maybe,” you returned gamely, shrugging your shoulders. You lifted a hand, the skin of your palm scored with dirt and abrasions from your long, long trek through the factory, and placed it on the ground between you. Your fingers were trembling, the Prototype noted. “Is that so bad?”

His maw creaked before slamming shut with a sharp, decisive click, voice box crackling around words that simply refused to come. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t hurt you. 

But he could raise his hand, debris tumbling from between long, metal claws. He could reach out. He could touch you.