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wakebymoonsleepbysun · 4 months ago

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#not tagging this for now#because i'm not sure if the world really is ready for such things as pining over giant robot clown spiders

You fool. You absolute fool.

I meant to reblog this yesterday but yay for the one year anniversary of me impulsively posting something I thought nobody would care about and having my life changed forever.

Stereo Souls may not have done "numbers" compared to DCA fics but holy shit did it get way more responses than I expected. And not just the number of responses, but just how EXCITED and passionate and kind people were!! And continue to be! Being part of the DJMM Tumblr Cult for the past year has been awesome, I've made so many cool moots!! And met many people I consider friends, if that's not too bold to say.

I know I haven't been as active the past few months but DJ is still close to my heart and I still want to go back to drawing him more. ;w;

Untitled DJ x Reader Soulmate AU - Ch 1

EDIT: This is now being updated on ao3!

Throwing this up here for now. I have an ao3 but I don't know that I want this to be the first thing posted in it. Also it's in need of editing because the first chapter is in a different tense than the second chapter because I'd intended it to be a flashback-ish thing but that's not really clear in the finished writing. Alas.

Might delete these posts when it this story eventually makes its way to ao3, but we'll see.

[ Ch 1 - You are here ] [ Ch 2 ]

CHAPTER 1

The DJ had only been active for four years when the writing appeared on the inside of his wrist. At first he thought it was graffiti, something he was unfortunately quite familiar with, as teenagers frequently sought to prove their mettle by antagonizing a giant robot spider after hours. Though why they thought themselves brave was a mystery to him…he was forbidden from retaliating. He couldn’t even utter a protest once the speakers were turned off for the night. Not that aggressive, lyricless techno music was all that readily understood as a “protest” anyway.

But no, this writing on his wrist was not graffiti. Aside from the fact that he definitely would have realized if someone had climbed onto his stage and written on him, it was far smaller than the hastily spray painted or sharpie’d graffiti usually was. It was as if a human had simply written on him with a black pen the way they would write in a notebook.

“They really did a number on you, huh?”

DJ wasn’t sure what to make of that. Most of the graffiti on him was names and symbols, not cryptic, vaguely sympathetic messages.

A couple days after it appeared, he had his weekly maintenance with one of the techs, a middle aged man named Karter. Karter had been more or less the only human DJ interacted with with any regularity. DJ liked him well enough, and had thought he and Karter were friends. As much as a non-verbal robot could be friends with a human, anyway.

Karter never said much to DJ. What could he really say when DJ had no way to respond? But he was kind to him, expressing sympathy when DJ was graffitied or damaged, and he was mindful of DJ’s comfort when working on him, always telling DJ what he was doing and making sure DJ was prepared before opening up panels or soldering wires or swapping whatever hinge or joint needed replacing.

DJ had taken this for granted until, a year after DJ was first brought online, Karter had his first sick day. The tech who filled in for him didn’t speak to DJ at all, and almost seemed unaware that DJ could feel what she was doing, or that DJ would have any kind of opinion on it. DJ did his best to cooperate with her, trying to infer what she wanted from her occasional frustrated grumbles when he moved in a way she hadn’t wanted him to.

It was a small taste of what life was like with less kind techs and DJ, unsurprisingly, did not care for it.

So it was that DJ had no qualm about trying to get Karter to pay attention to the writing on his wrist. He couldn’t tell Karter what it said, of course, but that hardly mattered. It needed to be cleaned off, regardless of why it was there.

But as DJ repeatedly tried to show Karter his wrist, even pointing at it with two of his other hands, Karter’s expression began to darken.

“There’s nothing there, DJ. It’s fine,” he said, his expression troubled as he avoided DJ’s gaze.

DJ played a noise through the speakers, a small synthesized chirp that he often used as a way to get someone’s attention.

“DJ, please!” Karter snapped.

DJ flinched back, wringing his main pair of hands worriedly. Why was Karter so upset at this? He’d cleaned worse graffiti off the DJ. Granted this was small, but it was clearly visible. Why did it seem as if Karter didn’t even see it?

Karter sighed, his expression softening as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “...Okay. Tell me this. Is…is something written there?”

DJ brightened, nodding, a jingle of affirmation playing over the speakers.

Another sigh as Karter ran a hand down his face. “Goddammit. Goddammit, goddammit…”

DJ’s eyes widened at the language even as he canted his head in concern, replaying his questioning chirp over the speakers.

“DJ. I’m only going to tell you this once. Forget it. Ignore it. It’s not there. Okay?” he said, looking up at the DJ pleadingly.

DJ couldn’t help but repeat the querying chirp.

“I know it’s hard to ignore when it’s right there, but you have to.” Karter ran a hand through his greying hair, debating with himself on what the DJ needed to know…how much the phrase “Ignorance is bliss” applied to the situation.

“Just promise you won’t tell anyone.”

DJ frowned, glancing down at the writing. Was he the only one who could see it? Well…if that were the case, it was harmless enough. And despite DJ’s limited social skills, he could tell Karter was not interested in discussing it further, even if DJ could put his many questions into words.

So he let the matter drop. What else could he do?

The next week, Karter was out, and DJ was serviced by another quiet, vaguely sullen tech. When he pulled Karter’s employee profile, DJ found out that he had quit.

Was it because of him? DJ didn’t understand what he’d done wrong, but something had clearly caused Karter to be upset. DJ just hadn’t realized he was upset enough to quit over it. He couldn’t help but feel he had done something seriously wrong…and that it was his fault Karter had quit.

DJ became sulky after that. Oh, he never let it show in his performances of course. Those were just as lively and energized as ever. But between shows, and overnight, he just…sat. He barely acknowledged Moon when the night attendant came to visit him, didn’t even look up as the human guards passed through the arcade, and wouldn’t even spare the Lil’ Music Men a glance when they deigned to visit his stage overnight.

More weeks went by, and each week was a new tech doing his weekly inspection. Not new to the Pizzaplex, of course, but new to this task. A quick glance at their employee profiles confirmed many of them had been working here for at least a year or two.

DJ stopped doing them any favors. He would move when asked to move and keep still when asked to keep still, but he no longer tried to anticipate what they needed of him, or infer anything from whatever they might be mumbling to themselves. If indeed they did mumble at all. Several were completely silent.

During those weeks, something else happened. Something that, before the incident with Karter, would have seemed completely innocuous and gone unnoticed by the DJ.

One evening during his set, his gaze happened to fall on a young woman standing against the wall at the edge of the dance floor. She was gazing down at her wrist, her other hand lightly tracing a pattern on her skin. She looked so happy; with a soft smile full of warmth and even the barest hint of tears of joy in her eyes.

His eyes flicked down to his own wrist, curious. The track skipped slightly as he turned his hand to check his wrist again, but he quickly recovered before anyone noticed.

The DJ’s gaze returned to the young woman just in time to see her being approached by two other women her age.

“Oh. My. Gosh. Did you--?” one of the friends cried excitedly.

“Yes! I got my mark!” the young woman said, tearing up in earnest.

“What’s it say?” the second friend asked excitedly.

“You know I can’t tell you!” she protested, hugging her wrist to her chest as if her friend would sneak a glance.

“Yeah, yeah. But as soon as you meet him you’re telling me what it said!”

“Maybe your soulmate’s here in the room right now!” the first friend said, squeezing the woman’s shoulders.

The first woman blushed, shaking her head. “Oh no. I doubt it. I-It could still be months before I meet him…or years…” she added, the briefest hint of worry in her eyes.

“Oh come on, be positive! Weeks at most!”

The DJ didn’t allow himself to skip another beat as he listened to the conversation. He could hear them perfectly, even over his own music.

Soulmate.

DJ was familiar with the term. Besides having been loaded with a basic understanding of human society (much of which he couldn’t imagine ever needing to know), he’d heard talk of such things on the dance floor. Especially during the slow songs.

Could that be what the writing on his wrist meant? He…had a soulmate?

But you needed a soul to have a soulmate, and animatronics didn’t have souls.

Years worth of conversation snippets he’d overheard began to fall into place. From what he could piece together, the words on his wrist were the first words his soulmate would say to him. And they would have the first words he would say to them on their wrist.

But DJ had no voice. What could possibly be on their wrist if he never spoke to them? He knew there were some humans that never spoke, but he had no information on how that affected someone’s mark.

A chill ran through DJ’s circuits as he began to process what that truly meant. A human was bound to him. Him. Easily the least humanoid animatronic in the Pizzaplex. He wasn’t like the Glamrocks or even the daycare attendant; humanoid and personable. He was more of a set piece than a character. More like a piece of furniture than a person.

He looked across the dance floor, picking out several couples holding each other as they danced, or sitting on the benches along the edges of the dance floor leaning on each other…or even just holding hands as they walked.

DJ couldn’t do any of that. Not with a human. Not even with the other animatronics.

He knew not all soulmates were romantic, but most of them were. He had to imagine he was one of the exceptions though. Much as he found himself wishing otherwise.

Now why did he wish that? Being unable to express any romantic affection would be just as bad for him as it would for his would-be soulmate, wouldn’t it? But then, he’d always been fairly separate from humans. He could make due.

But it was still unfair to put that on his potential partner.

Partner? Him, with a partner? He couldn’t even believe he was thinking it.

He realized he had repeated the same one-minute loop multiple times, and people were starting to notice. He quickly switched it, forcing himself to get his head back in the game.

Yet once the show was over the musings continued. They didn’t help his mood. It all just seemed so unfair. Not just to him, but to whoever was bound to him. Someone who, despite not having met them yet, was already so dear and important to him.

He let out a silent sigh, or at least imitated the motion of one. An odd quirk of his AI that he would ever have an urge to sigh or yawn despite having no lungs and no voicebox.

The DJ’s evening sulk would be interrupted by the sound of kids, probably teens, sneaking into the dance hall.

Great. Usually he would try to climb over the kids and hide in one of his tunnels until the night guard arrived, but tonight he couldn’t bring himself to bother.

Cans of spray paint came out as the kids began tagging him and even his stage. Flashes went off as they took selfies, causing his optics to rapidly toggle between day mode and night mode, which got disorienting after only a few switches.

Though the disorientation barely mattered when he didn’t plan on moving. He shuttered his eyes as best he could, given they weren’t designed to close completely, and hunkered down to wait it out.

Fate was against him tonight, for that wasn’t good enough for these kids.

“Let’s see if we can get a picture of him chasing us!” one of the boys said.

DJ tensed at that, though it wouldn’t be obvious to the kids that he’d even registered their remark. He had never chased off intruders. Deep in his code was a never used, never completed bouncer mode…but he couldn’t even activate that himself. Not that he’d ever want to.

Still, he knew somewhere out there, some kids had pictures and even short videos of him “chasing” them, but that was little more than them running in front of him as he scrambled around the dance floor trying to avoid their companions.

Well. Easy solution. Don’t move. As he was already not doing.

CLUNK!

DJ scrambled to his hands in surprise, clutching his left eye where the rock had hit. If the speakers had been on, the staticy feedback that would have come through them at DJ’s pain and shock would have surely scared the kids off. With them off, though, his distress was silent, aside from the dull thuds of his gloved hands scrambling on the stage.

As soon as he lowered his hand to glance at the kids, another rock was thrown. This too hit its mark, shattering the cracked plexiglass as the stone landed somewhere inside DJ’s eye socket, rattling around unpleasantly.

DJ kept backing up until his backmost set of hands found the wall behind the stage. He tried to get the rock out of his eye socket, but recoiled at the unpleasant sensation of his finger pushing against the circuitry that had previously been protected by the plexiglass dome. His frantic scrambling had caused one of the speakers beside the stage to topple over, taking one of the rainbow spotlights with it in a shower of sparks.

Another rock sailed over his head, hitting one of the spotlights above him. The heavy stage light was knocked loose, and in a stroke of bad luck landed on the elbow joint of his second left arm. The mechanism bent, seizing up and causing every movement of the joint to grind unpleasantly against the wires that ran though his arm.

“HEY!” a deep voice called out as the night guard finally arrived.

The kids quickly scrambled, every brat for themselves and each one hoping the guard would grab their friends before them.

The guard didn’t even glance at DJ as he ran after the kids, leaving DJ alone on his stage.

Just as well. DJ wasn’t in the mood to see anyone else. He lay back down on his stage, keeping one hand over his broken eye until morning.

The incident was reported, of course, and come morning two techs were at his stage looking over the damage. He removed his hand from his eye when he was commanded to, and did his best not to flinch as they surveyed the damage he’d done to himself in his failed attempts at fishing the rock out.

The dance hall would have to be closed today. Probably longer. Karter’s backfill was starting tomorrow. They would have to be the one to fix up DJ and his stage. Quite a task for a newbie, but they had to learn somehow.

Great. Just when DJ was thinking cold, impatient techs were the worst…At least they knew what they were doing, and got it done quickly. Now he had days of being worked on by some novice ahead of him, and no performances to keep his mind off things.

When the techs left, he stared down at the writing on his wrist.

“They really did a number on you, huh?” He hadn’t yet realized that this was that number.

#wakey rambles #fnaf djmm #djmm tumblr cult #djmm stereo souls

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