various (incomplete) writings for my versions of the Daycare Attendant, Moony and Sunny
(reference, shown without their ribbons/bells bc Oops lol)
(here are some design notes, and other pieces/lore can be found in their tags 'sunny' 'moony' and 'robolore' below :)!)
KIDS ASK THE DARNDEST THINGS :)
Sunny paused and blinked down at the inquisitive little girl at his side. “How do I work?”
“Yeah; you’re a robot, right?”
Sunny giggled, squatted down to her level, and whimsically bloomed his turquoise-tipped fingers like flower petals before her face. “I’m made of what engineers call magic!”
She giggled loudly. “No you’re not!” she brashly accused through her big grin, drawing shocked body language out of the animated machine so overt and silly that the sight only made her squeal in amusement. “You’re a computer!”
“I’m a computer?!” Sunny gasped, clutching the lunar-themed sensor on his chest. “What?! Really??”
“Nobody told ME that!! Oh, NO! I thought I was a ROBOT!!” the caretaker wailed, dropping right off his haunches and onto the floor with a plop. His hood went boof ‘round his head in response to the hard and sudden impact, the sight of which sent the child into another giggly fit. “You mean I’ve been LIED TO??”
The histrionics were starting to draw attention from the other kids and one of the adult handlers. Curiosity had them wandering over to see what the fuss was about, while Sunny continued to cartoonishly mourn, “I’m really NOT magic??”
“Noooo, you’re magic! You’re magic!” a couple children chimed in, rushing to console the robot. “She’s lying! You’re magic!”
“Oh, I don’t know what to believe!” The Attendant dropped his flat face into his hands, the little ones patting his shoulders and flinging themselves upon him in comfort. “They told me I’m magic, but— but if I’m a computer—“
A boy piped up, projecting his voice over the din. “Computers are magic!”
Sunny dropped his hands and looked hopefully to the boy at his right. “Yeah? You promise??”
“Of course!” the outspoken six-year-old declared with all the confidence in the world. “You don’t even LOOK like a computer!”
A chorus of voices began to agree, prompting Sunny give a great sigh of relief, his body lifting and folding like a coiled spring. “WHEW! Wow! I guess you’re right; I sure don’t! I’m shaped like a human, not a box.. is that right?”
“YEAH! You don’t look like a box! You look like a human!” the children enthusiastically concurred, their various validations overlapping.
“Well!” their playtime friend said, starting to get to his feet, “Hearing that, I feel a whole lot better—“
“But you’re a COMPUTER!” the girl from afore insisted, just as he was almost at full height. “You’re made of all metal!”
Sunny’s immobile face seemed to gawk. “I’m made of all METAL?!” Flying his pretty bicolored hands to his hood, the animatronic proceeded to clutch the excessive fabric umbrella with no small amount of turmoil, tugging on it as he once again let out a dramatic wail. “Oh, NO!!”
The clamor of giggles and shouts became auditory mashed potato whilst their devoted carer sank to the floor all over again. Sunny was quickly mauled by their excited, worried hands, his distraught suffocated in the children’s wholesome attempts to hug the problem all better. He happily played along of course, welcoming their consolations with literal open arms and kind words.
His children - his little Sundrops - were so sweet.
But a bit of trouble was brewing on the sidelines. A small tiff was beginning to break out between the innocent instigator and the boy who’d challenged her. To the rescue today was Assistant Charlene, already kneeling between them to de-escalate and try to help them talk it out, to some marginal success.
(IMPORTANT NOTE: Sunny and Moony are one bot. however, they are NOT programmed as brothers, nor do they consider themselves to be; but they ARE lovers.)
Kassim watched Moony soar from one silken drape to the next with elegance and grace. He likened the robot to Tarzan - if Tarzan were a ballerina. It was after hours, and his shift had ended half an hour ago. Moony would begin patrols in two hours, but for now, he was collecting.
The embodiment of the great Northern Lights swooped down from his sky. Five glowing fingertips nabbed an overstuffed fringe pillow from the security desk, then the animatronic scaled the cloth rope again, making away for the tented tower on the other side of the room.
“Whatcha doin’, Moony?” called out his assistant.
There was a response, but Kassim couldn’t hear it. That was the problem with Moony: he was so hard to hear. Programming dictated his volume control auto-set to a whisper, which was appropriate for a nap time caretaker; however, it did mean that trying to have a conversation with him without being in close proximity could be difficult.
He had to wait. Sure enough, Moony returned, and lowered himself down to Kassim’s level. “Nesting,” he softly spoke. The young man peered into Moony’s swirly purple eye.
“You’re building a nest?”
His face scrunched confusion. “Wh.. why?”
“Shouldn’t you be going home?”
Kassim smirked. “Why are you evading the question?”
The purple cyclone rolled in its socket. He was sure Moony would’ve stuck out his tongue if he could, or had one. “Because we like to rest,” Moony lightly snipped, folding his arms. “I know you don’t possibly get it, but we like to nest together.”
Kassim sure didn’t get how a single bot could “nest together” with essentially itself, but he went off the remark anyhow. "
