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bubacorn · 2 months

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hc: Vessel is bad at receiving compliments and being told that he is loved (hug inspired by this one, @ghxstly-death put it into words perfectly. thank you, Eden!🫂)

Thinking about Vessel who can't accept compliments, not because he doesn't believe them (that too), but because he'd heard them so many times in the past related to small, unimpressive things. Not 'I'm proud of you', just 'You did good', an automatic response to any and all achievements. He did good. He didn't know what 'good' meant, but apparently, he did that. He has no idea what was good about what he did, so he continues to push himself, to not be a disappointment. If he does good, then that should be enough, right?

He tries for great, for excellent, for something more, but he always gets 'good', unrelated to the effort and time he put into something. He knows he shouldn't wish for more specific compliments, or anything else, really. He should be grateful to be regarded. Everyone around him is so busy, they can't possibly have time to listen to him talk about how in reality, he has no idea what he's doing. How things sometimes just click but he can't tell if what he did is actually worth anything or it was just pure luck. How he doubts himself at every step but learned to hide it, because he has to be good. And good means coping and dealing with things by himself and quietly, because then he will be told that he did good and who wouldn't want to be good?

Vessel who hears 'I love you' for the first time (said with actual love behind it for the very first time) in a really long time from II. He wouldn't tell the other that, but it's clear from the surprise and the hopeful longing in Vessel's eyes. His friend told him he loves him and he doesn't know what to do with that, so he hesitantly steps to him and begins to lift his arms in question. II's heart squeezes at his shyness, after all, the other has spent months alone in the manor, so it's understandable that he would have grown unaccustomed to touch. But then II has to pull Vessel against him, because the man sort of hovers his arms around his frame as if he doesn't know how to approach a hug. Like he isn't sure what is expected of him and what is too much.

Vessel is surprised when II squeezes around his torso, when he brings one arm around his shoulder and the other to his neck, trying to bring Vessel down towards him, like he wants to protect and shelter him. That's strange, but Vessel finds that his arms want to stay wrapped loosely around II a bit longer and just as he starts to pull away, II again says "I love you, Vessel", and Vessel's brain freezes. II squeezes him tighter and Vessel feels so warm and strangely loose (he's afraid he will unravel if he stays too close for too long) and small even though he towers over his friend. His friend who is now holding him and who apparently loves him.

The only thing in his mind stumbles from his tongue in the form of a quiet "Why?". He didn't do anything exceptional. He was showing II an arrangement and said he wasn't sure if it was any good, letting his fingers dance over the keys, feeling like he was stumbling through music. He felt like it captured that familiar insecurity, and he liked it and hoped II would like it, too. Even if it didn't make it into a song. Then II said he did like it, that it feels like Vessel is unsure but it gives the melody a unique flavor, and that Vessel was great for translating that feeling into music.

"'Why?' ?" II's answering question is filled with such disbelief that Vessel wants to hide. He said something inappropriate, something secret that had previously only been dwelling in his mind, in a dark corner, and now he feels exposed. Why did he even open his mouth? Not good. Definitely bad.

Vessel is slumping against II a bit, like he doesn't know how to hold himself upright anymore, like he needs support. II must feel it, because he's still holding him, and it's been minutes and Vessel tries to squirm away, to save any dignity he might still possess, and II lets him slip out of the embrace, but his arms linger like he doesn't want to let go of his friend. His friend who just blurted out the worst response to a confession of gentle affection. Vessel looks so worried when he catches II's gaze and he immediately averts his eyes and takes a few small steps back, unconsciously gravitating towards his piano for protection, a sense of safety.

"You're my friend, Vessel," II tries approaching the man with soft words, "You're kind and considerate and a damn good musician," Vessel stops backing away when the back of his legs hit the edge of his piano bench, but he's still looking at the floor, "You pour your heart into writing and playing and it's amazing to see. You're committed, but patient and you help me every time I need. Even when I'm too embarrassed to ask," II tilts his head and steps a bit closer to try and catch Vessel's gaze, "I know you don't see it and I'm sorry that you can't because it's true. I would never lie to you about this, Ves. I love you, you're my best friend," Vessel presses his lips together, so II adds, "Not just because we live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. You're the best friend I've ever had. And I'm glad Sleep led me to you."

Vessel gives him a look that shows he tries really hard to believe him, and adds in such a low voice it's almost a whisper, "I love you, too," as if he's embarrassed to admit it. But it's not embarrassment, II realizes, it's disbelief, it's some sort of deep shame about needing someone else, of relying on anyone else but himself at all times. And it makes sense, considering Vessel's nature, but II could never put it all together, since large chunks of Vessel's past were unfamiliar to him. He could have guessed based on how the man acted, but he didn't want to assume anything. It felt disrespectful. Vessel would share if he wanted.

"And I'm really glad you found me," just a beat of silence, before he adds, in an even quieter tone, if that's possible, "And that you stayed," Vessel risks a bashful glance towards II, and sees him blink rapidly, shocked by the implication of the other's words, before he shakes himself and steps closer to Vessel. He searches his face for apprehension, but doesn't find any, so he gently puts his hands on Vessel's upper arms and sits him down on his bench. Before Vessel can react, II has his arms wrapped around him, one around his shoulder, and the other's hand cupping the back of his head and cradling it to his front.

"You're important to me, Ves. You're special and precious and I love you," II's fingers caress the man's shoulder and card through his hair, "I want you to know that I'm here for you any time, okay?" Vessel is still stunned and he's sure he's going catch on fire if he gets any warmer. II twists a lock of hair around his finger, "Okay?" Words form and die in Vessel's throat so he just nods, rapidly, almost hurriedly, and II lets out a small chuckle. "You're amazing, you know that?" he nuzzles into Vessel's hair for a moment to murmur, "And adorable," II sways with the man in his arms a little and Vessel is sure he will combust. His face is flaming against II's shirt and he tries to suppress the half grimace-half grin on his face and feels unreal. "C'mon. Tea break?" II smiles down at him and offers a hand. Vessel can stand on his own, but doesn't reject the offer. He likes the warmth of II's hand and he can always use the stability and the reminder of the other's presence. II soon replaces his hand with a mug of tea, but it's considerably colder to Vessel. The contrast is especially palpable when II brushes his knuckles against Vessel's as he's handing him his tea. The mug is warm, but II's skin is burning against his. But it's not bad. It's a good burn. It makes Vessel feel alive. Seen. Loved?

Vessel learns that he doesn't have to prove himself to other people to receive love. Love is not something that has to be earned in their home. Love is not a reward, not something that Vessel has to work for, then be disappointed that in the end, it isn't actually given to him. He tried being good in the past, being silent and keeping his head down and being a good kid, but the warmth and the unconditional love didn't come. He still tried, though, he always tried his best, but apparently that wasn't enough. Or there wasn't actually love at the end of that tunnel. It was just a play of light. But that would have been cruel and Vessel would like to think that people in his past weren't intentionally unkind to him (he won't admit the truth to himself for a while).

II often tells Vessel that he's proud of him. For speaking up. For telling him when he's having a bad day. For asking for distance when he needs it and closeness when he feels like he will drift away. For admitting to messing up, when he falls back into bad habits of self-destruction and isolation. For doing a grocery run by himself even though he goes home almost shaking and has to spend the next hours under a blanket on the couch, because it was simply too much. For crying when he talks about memories that he tried his hardest to forget but he just can't. For asking for help and letting II help him, even though it's hard. It's really hard, and Vessel apologizes for it, for being fucked-up and broken and damaged goods. For wasting II's time and being a burden, a needy, greedy thing. Wretched. Minus human.

But II tells him he loves him and that he could never be a burden. That he will always be worth it, he always has been, and that he's sorry that people in Vessel's past couldn't see it. Couldn't see him for all that he is. For the friend who pays attention to little details so he can show his friend how much he values him. For the guy who bakes his friend a complicated cake for his birthday because he off-handedly told him he can't even remember what it tasted like, even though it used to be his favorite. For the amazing composer who can capture emotions one doesn't realize one has. For the hard-working, curious kid who thought that being obedient and not questioning authority was the way to earn praise and affection. For the little boy who thought something was wrong with him, that he did or didn't do something and that is why he couldn't feel loved. For the child who cried and cried, silent and under the cover of the night, hoping that no one would hear (and secretly hoping that somebody would and they would come and save him from the gaping emptiness that made its home in his chest, way too big and scary for a boy that little). For the boy and then the man who couldn't cry anymore but thought that that is more than alright, at least he can finally keep it all inside. For the partner who allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone he trusted. For the partner who made sure his other knew he was always welcome, even though his brain sometimes tried to tell him otherwise. For the partner who grew comfortable with expressing casual affection so much that terms like 'darling' became second nature to him (and for the way he blushed when II told him that). For the man who learned to accept that it's okay to admit to not being okay, to need someone, to want to not feel alone, to feel cherished, to have his feelings validated. For the man who can tell his partner anything and does, because he knows he can speak his mind and that there will be someone who listens.

II wanted to see Vessel. Vessel let him. Even before he showed the uglier and less than perfect parts of himself, II loved him all the same. It was never about being 'good' and silent and compliant. Vessel is good. Vessel is not good. He's amazing. He's perfect. He's wonderful. He's cherished. He's incredible. He's valued. He's seen. He's listened to. He's heard. He's finally, finally loved. Has been for longer than he dared to think. Will soon be by more people than he thought possible.

#Vessel was a gifted kid who tried to push through burnout and mental illness #waiting for someone to tell him they see and love him and are proud of him #and you can't change my mind #making myself sad first thing in the morning #what else is new #<- it's night since then but this still applies #yes i included a Metallica reference (almost two). fight me (please don't i have shrimp-like arms and get scared easily)#also #tumblr scared the crap out of me earlier #i posted this privately after it posted instead of saving it as a draft #and apparently it was visible #and i got so freaking scared cause this wasn't finished #so i apologize for deleting and reposting #but my heart stopped for a moment and i whispered like 10 'shitshitshit's at my computer #i should be reading for a class tomorrow #sleep token headcanons #buba writes

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thedemonscrawler · 8 months

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When the dust settles

You know how the AO3 tag is "I wrote this instead of sleeping"? Yeah, well, I literally went to bed and then wrote a 1.5k oneshot instead of falling asleep the other night 8'D

Set in the same continuity as my recently posted oneshot Charade, where Sun and Eclipse are forced to work together and have developed a begrudging camaraderie over it.

This is much later in the timeline where Sun and Eclipse have gone from Enemies to Friends That Are Still Enemies to I Think We're Just Friends Now. Killcode (who was not nice) had the star and was defeated, Eclipse had the star briefly but was talked out of changing things (which he didn't even really want to do by this point), everyone is tired and came back from the final showdown and passed out.

-----

He comes online to an empty room.

He's an animatronic, so there's no wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness around him, and so it's his sluggish processor that delays recognition. Dimmed lights strung over the walls, a playhouse meant for children on the floor. The surface under his cheek and hand gives slightly when he presses on it, fabric made colorless without light.

The Daycare. He was in the Daycare, curled up on one of the couches.

A shudder runs through his frame and he curls tighter under the piece of fabric covering his body. Blankets weren't the smartest thing to toss over a robot, given the risk of overheating, yet the fabric doesn't feel like a blanket, and his internal temperature isn't in the red.

It's green– but green only meant 'not running hot', and he isn't. He feels cold.

Shaking fingers run over the edge of the cloth, trying to ground or distract himself. The fabric feels soft and slippery, like the satin of the Daycare Attendant’s ribbons. Raised edging outlines a design in some material that doesn't catch, yet has enough lift to be felt.

His cape. That's right, he'd made a cape with the star’s power. He'd been wearing it when he'd followed the Daycare Attendants home, too tired and stressed to think about anything, and he'd gone to sleep still wrapped up in it.

He's still tired and stressed, but he's not asleep anymore.

Soft static crackles in his chest, and dim golden eyes peep out into the dark room. The dark, empty room. That hadn't bothered him so much when he was asleep, but it does now that he's awake and aware. The longer he sits here curled under his cape, the more tense he becomes, until to his exhausted horror a chirp escapes him.

Like a bird trapped in a cage. Like a lost child calling for help.

Disgust wells up in his chest and he sits up, and almost immediately regrets it when something like nausea washes through him. He'd only held the star for a couple of hours at most, yet there hasn't been nearly enough time for his systems to recover from both that and the considerable strain of the ordeal preceding it. The cold settles over the disgust, smothering it, seeping into his limbs, and he shudders again, clutching the cape tightly around his shoulders.

No good. He's still too cold.

Another chirp rises in his throat, though this one he's able to swallow back down. He knows what he wants– who he wants. A habit of mutual comfort and cooperation couldn't be forgotten in only twelve hours, even if the situation was different now, and with a shaky exhale he forces himself to his feet. One hand holds the cape close at his throat, the other presses against the wall for balance as he slowly makes his way to the door at the side of the room.

He knows this is Sun's room; it isn't as if the Daycare has gone through any kind of massive renovations in the past six or so months, so this has to be Sun's room. However, when he pokes the flat disk of his head in past the doorframe, all he sees are two furry lumps curled up on the recharge pad. At the sound of the door the lumps sprout heads, then paws, and his exhausted mind only barely reacts in time to close the door before Sun's cats escape. He stares at the painted wood in fuzzy incomprehension, hearing a couple of plaintive mews and scratching before silence returns.

Another shudder persists as a faint shivering, and his gaze slowly drops to the floor. The cold knots in his chest and the base of his throat, emotions that he's too tired to sort through, only feeling their painful tug at his core. Sun… wasn't here?

No, no. Don't panic, think. This was Sun's home, he'd followed the Daycare Attendant back here. Sun had been here when he fell asleep, so if he wasn't in his room then…

Slowly he turns around, staring at the dark mouth of the tunnel across the room. Belatedly he realizes that it makes sense, that Sun would want to stay near the brother he hasn't seen in months, rather than sleep alone. It was a similar feeling as to why he was shuffling back the way he'd come, focused despite the haze settling over his mind and the cold wracking his body.

(Something must be malfunctioning. It wasn't normal for an animatronic to get cold, let alone feel like they were freezing. The cape helps, but only just.)

The tunnel presents its own challenge. Carefully, slowly, he manages to get down to his knees without disaster– but the tunnel itself is narrow, too narrow for his rays, and they knock against the curved ceiling painfully. Crawling without accidentally catching the cape is a challenge, too, one that he fails so that his hand catches and he overbalances, hitting the plastic with a muffled thud.

It doesn't exactly hurt; his right hand aches, of course, but it already ached. What's new is the ache in his shoulder and hip, and he lays where he is for several minutes, venting hard, trying to fight back the exhaustion that drags at him to just go back to sleep where he is no matter how cold and alone he might be.

"Eclipse?"

It takes him another handful of seconds to realize someone has spoken, voice suitability quiet for the late hour. He doesn't recognize it exactly, but it's proof that there's someone at the other end of the tunnel, and that's all the encouragement he needs to scramble onward, until he emerges in Moon's room.

It's even darker in here than the main room, given the lack of any windows or doors, though the walls are covered in fake stars. The converted arcade cabinet is on, and its screen adds a little light. While he sits on the floor collecting his bearings, the same quiet voice speaks up, and this time he recognizes it.

"Oh, good. For a moment we thought you had passed out," says the Computer.

He huffs quietly, drawing his cape a little tighter around his shaking shoulders. His vocalizer feels raw somehow, and it's a struggle to keep his voice between a whisper and inaudible. "Not… yet. Though the tunnel has.. never been that tempting.. before."

The Computer’s screen flickers briefly. "Why are you awake?"

"Something's malfunctioning, temperature regulation is off… don't think it's serious. Maybe." He brings a hand up to cover his face. "Just… don't want to be alone.. right now."

"...understood." His head feels like it's full of mush, but the Computer almost sounds nice. Maybe he's in worse shape than he thinks if Moon’s Computer is pitying him. "We'll run a scan while you're asleep."

"Thank you." And he means it.

It's a small mercy that Moon's bed is more of a nest of pillows on the floor rather than anything he'd have to stand up to get onto. As expected both Daycare animatronics are curled up together, colors faded by darkness so that the only way to really tell them apart was Sun's rays and Moon’s hat, and he spends a long moment just staring at them. Something pricks at him under the cold, a different kind of pain settling in his core.

He doesn't belong here. Not in this room, not in the Daycare, not in the Pizzaplex. Hell, considering he's a backup, he doesn't even really belong in this world anymore. He doesn't regret giving up the star, exactly, but the uncertainty of what he's supposed to do with himself is just as agonizing now as it was earlier.

A soft sound catches his attention, movement and bells. One of the disk-shaped heads rises out of the pillows, rays drooping with exhaustion as Sun peers around for the source of the voices. Shivering at the mouth of the tunnel with his cape around his shoulders, he's impossible to miss even in the near-darkness.

"Clip?" Sun's voice is as rough as his own. After a moment or two the Daycare Attendant holds out a hand, offering. Inviting. "C'mere."

It's a little embarrassing to literally crawl over to his counterpart but he's too tired to care. All he seeks is the warmth the other brings, the contact and comfort of not being alone. Sun turns so that he's on his back and able to hold both Moon and his counterpart close, and in the darkness Moon doesn't look as much like Killcode, so it's easier to wrap his arms around the other, burying his face in Sun’s neck.

"Feel better?" asks the quiet warble from near his head, and in response he just nods and offers a soft chirp. He's finally warm again.

Though, after a moment of thought he shifts a little, letting go long enough to grab the edge of his cape and try to drape it over the three of them. It… seemed right to share, even if Moon probably wasn't getting more than a corner.

Maybe he doesn't belong here, but there's a space carved out for him anyway.

Sleep claims him again soon after.

#fanfiction #the sun and moon show #five nights at freddys #fnaf #there's a half a story built around this universe but atm im clearly just using it as a place to get Sun and Eclipse to cuddle #Sun & Eclipse #fucking fight me #I NEED them to go through the long difficult process of building a workable relationship and becoming friends #fanfic

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