Henlo! If you are still doing DCA drabble ideas (if not, my reading comprehension is awful and I am so sorry)... try pitting the Security Breach Sun/Moon against an actual cat. I can see that going very very differently than what happens on the VR channels and on extreme ends of consequences lol
(AAAA I’m so late I’m sorry! But yes, I’m absolutely still doing writing requests! Thank you so much for sending one; this is such a fun idea :D)
The nights were long and cold. Moon was… out, leaving Sun in the desolate daycare all by himself with nothing but the harsh overhead lights for company.
At least he could clean. He found solace in cleaning. It gave him something to do, let his mind wander—it made him feel useful.
And he has learned quite a few things from cleaning, like how cold water shouldn’t be used to wash out blood or how trash cans aren’t supposed to rattle and make noise!
So why was this one oh so loud?
He jumped from side to side, eyeing the garbage disposal like it was a living beast standing in the way between him and a clean daycare. His fingers tightened around the broom in his hands (you could never be too safe).
With great hesitance, he pried one of his hands off of the wooden handle and clawed the can’s lid open.
The entire metal crate fell to the ground as an animal of some sort leapt out. Sun gasped and darted out of the way.
The cat, its paws and snout a white contrasting its other charcoal-black fur, snarled a million different meows as it ran into the barrels stacked neatly beside the security desk. They fell down with an awful sound.
“No, no, NO!” Sun screeched, clawing at his faceplate. “This is so—SO wrong! So out of order!”
In seconds, he was there, stacking them up perfectly again, as they should be.
The feline hissed at him and clawed at his pant leg. He hissed back and poked the… creature… with the broom.
“Stay away from me!” he exclaimed, dramatic and theatrical in his movements. “You’re not supposed to be here!”
Sun tensed and pounced onto the cat, but the tiny thing slipped out of his grasp and bolted along the security desk.
“Get out!” he yelled. “GET OUT! You are banned from the daycare!”
The beast did not listen. It lay upon the light switch, stretching like the exertion had it exhausted.
“WAIT—!” An agonized screech clawed out of Sun’s voice box. He scraped his sharp fingers along his face, begging for the transition to stop.
The lights dimmed.
“No! NO!” He fell backwards, and a menacing chuckle echoed from the floor.
Moon crawled over to the cat, eyeing it like he had no clue what it was. He most likely didn’t.
The feline hissed as his sharp red eyes disturbed its slumber.
“Naughty,” he ground out, his voice coarse and rougher than sandpaper. “Naughty… thing.”
The cat didn’t react.
He should be ripping it to shreds. His processors screamed at him to rid the daycare of the intruder, of the “naughty thing,” as he had so unceremoniously called it.
Instead, however, he watched it sleep. He would get rid of it in the morning, he decided.
Though he found he didn’t really want to.