#assistant!sun

[naffeclipse]

A sort of mad scientist AU where Y/N is, of course, a mad scientist. You suffer from chronic illness and you are desperate to make your experiments work but you struggle without help. You refuse to take on a human assistant out of a desire to not be treated as lesser--as if you can't conduct great, horrific experiments like the other crazed scientists. You stubbornly set yourself to work without any such succor in your tower and the days pass, wearing heavily on your soot marked hands and aching, waning body.

A solution appears right at your feet one evening while rummaging around for some material in the grimy streets (dead animals, toxic waste--the usual to carry out unethical tests) and discover two abandon animatronics in the back alley, left to rot and turn to rust. There's close to zilch hope for the two but you're not a mad scientist for no reason. You drag the endoskeletons home before prompting collapsing for a day or two after overextending yourself and paying the price.

Once you get your strength back (and cursing your weakness) you turn all your effort to cleaning and preparing the endoskeletons. The celestial model of the animatronics would be helpful in your work, no? One after the solar ball of gas which beams heat and light onto the world and the other after the gray rock which brightens the night and tugs on the tides. Sun and Moon. You solder wires and revamp the servos. You hold and handle the limbs and heads of the animatronics as if they were sleeping. Soon, they will wake.

There's just one problem. They need a spark. Not a bit of ember from fire or the first crack of electricity from a splitting fork of lightning. A spark of life. And you contain such material within yourself. It's dangerous to lord over life and play god, but you need them.

The night storms when you prepare the animatronics with their chassis open, lying down on tables. You are steady despite the buzz in your veins in the face of the most dangerous experiment you have conducted yet. With these two are your side, there will be many to come. You spill your blood, split away two pieces of your pulsing core, and set two tiny sparks of life from your beating heart into the animatronics. Your head spins with pain and hope. The hum of servos whirling to life touches your eardrums. A great rumble of thunder shakes the tower. Your vision is slowly swallowed by darkness as you start to collapse but before you fall, two glowing pairs of eyes open.

When you wake, you're in your bed, in the dark, and your chest is bandaged. You hardly have the strength to touch the blood-stains soaking into the gauze but a silver and blue hand stops you. Red eyes pierce you at your bedside, a dark personage holding your wrist. Standing on the other end of your bed is a tall figure with ghostly pale optics falling over you. Dread fills your marrow at what exactly you brought back from death. A raspy voice raises a question. Who are you?

The animatronics. They're alive. They want answers, and you are more than willing to supply them. You give a very detailed, breathy response about how this all came to be, and when you propose that they become your assistants in your endeavors, they silently share a glance and nod in unison.

Though you fear you got off to a rough start with them putting you into bed after making sure your heart was still beating, they prove to be everything you want—and more. They have no desire to return to whoever tossed them to the street and left them as scrap metal, and you finally have extra hands to hold together metal contraptions and nimble fingers to set the exact scalpel blade size you need in your hand when cutting into a carcass.

They do not infantilize you in your sickness, much to your aching relief. Sun, however, is poignant in reminding you that pushing yourself past your energy capability, such as walking into town and dragging back a metallic frame for a killing contraption, will result in you needing a day of recovery. Moon sharply remarks that willingly subjecting yourself to an overnight of experimenting with beating hearts and lightning strikes will most likely cause a pain flare, but they never stop you. They never decide for you. They see you—not the unending illness clawing at your edges and leaving its marks on your flesh.

Though you learn to manage yourself better—for science, of course. You request Sun's assistance for lifting heavy plates into place before you bolt and screw them down. He's all too cheerful to lend a hand. When it grows late, you allow Moon to lead you to bed before the fire in your muscles becomes a roaring inferno. He tells you softly that he's been recording the number of good and bad days you have, and that your flare-ups don't appear as often when you have a full night's rest. Your assistants are pleased—with the improvement in your experiments, of course.

It's rare, but sometimes you'll catch an odd sentence or two from Sun about where they were before, and how much nicer it is here. You give them much. You don't shout or throw things at them. He lays a hand over his chassis and smiles. Moon will look at you sometimes, and when you ask why he's staring, he says that you have never raised a hand to them. It's strange. He thought all mad scientists were the same. He's glad to be wrong.

You're glad they're with you too. Your science has never been madder and you don't lay through bad days alone anymore. You don't like talking about your chronic illness. The discussions you've had in the past with peers and professors revolved around how you're handling it and what it's doing to you today. Can you still do your work? It's not mad or experimental or new—it's just sad. Other people think you're sad and pitiful, and you would rather die trying to conduct a hazardous experiment than ever stop to tend to yourself.

Sun and Moon learn to take your mutters and curses in stride when another flare-up hits. They ask questions occasionally, wondering how long you've lived with this and if it would ever be cured but they seem to already suspect the answer. Sure, you've tried several times to manufacture an antidote to whatever poison sits in your veins, but such endeavors have only ended with you waking up, lying in your own vomit. They don't give you pity, not like the others have. No, Sun holds your hand between his large digits and asks if you've eaten anything yet. Moon touches your shoulder when you stare out of the circular window in your tower and asks if he can walk you to your bed.

They need you, and they know what great work you're doing here, crafting weapons of mass destruction, simmering glowing liquids, and putting together new creations—not like them, no. Nothing compares to your assistants.

[gammija]

A little something silly in my werewolf/vampire jmart au, for @milkteamoon as part of @magnusforgaza. Thank you!

This specific project has now closed, but here's a list of artists who are still individually taking requests for Gaza donations - go check them out

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie Vanessa makes sun light up with joy!

[starshinenoa]

The first and last time someone touched the speaker

[nikolliver]

IDIOTS

[notdrawingwhileasleep]

A resquest asqued me to draw an scene from my au, but Shadow by the linvinstone started playing and what was going to be a wholesome drawing ended up making me go "hehehehe s3 assistant au"

ANYWAYS, I will still draw the other scenes but, I will take this chance to talk more about the "Shackled/ Assitant AU" A bit More.

Basically, at its core, the Assistant AU is "What if Wukong was trully not at fault?" "What if neither party is actually to blame?"

The events that lead to the fight of the Jade Emperor are extensive, and Wukong trully beliefs in Azures plitgh for freedom. But make no mystake, the reason she stands in front of the Jade Emperor had to much to do with the chains placed on the one she loved the most.

Wukong gives everything for Macaque. Her crown, her kingdom, their future, and her freedom. Macaque wont stand idle to her imprissioment. And if that means giving everything she has, everything she is... Then so be it.

It ends up Playing as LMK but MK and the gang only meet Macaque when LBD gets her out of her cage to chase them... More on this later 😌.

Also, lowkey this Au was made rearrenging Epic the musical songs and changing the lyrics for my agenda. Idk how to share the changed lyrics but here is the playlist if you want to reck your head with the order:

So question, do you guys prefer the name Assistant or Shakled? because at this point idk which one to use. And... I might have decided to divide it in 3 parts. 1) A fic I will post hopefully this week for the brotherhood era. 2) JTTW Era that is Ideally animatics but I doubt I have the time but this era is what most of the playlist is about. And 3) Modern Era which is mostly panel comics in my drafts.....

Would you guys like to see it this way? I cant promise anything for animatics tho, not rn. So JTTW era will remain ellusive unles you crack the playlist.

[strawberrymothteeth]

*crawls out of hiatus to hands you this*

[woolysstuff]

Exploding with laughter

[puretopia]

who knew dumpster diving could be so romantic

[the-daycare-assistant]

Well hello friends and fans! Back from the dead pfft

Been a while but I’ve always had this idea of making the DCA inspired off of Hinduism and finally did it! Tried to stay as respectful and traditional as possible with these designs since I believe they’d all be made to be dancers acting out their stories

Definitely not specifically SAMS but I don’t mind if people tag it as such!

If you think I should make more of these guys or even just making DCA based off of other cultures much like the Diyu band I posted a long time ago coming from China spam me some asks! I’d love to do stuff like that and shed light on cultures we don’t get to see represented a lot

Close ups under the cut!

[diesaur]

2024925 aether branch chiefs

[naffeclipse]

The mad scientist AU is fun because inevitably Moon will hear an explosion and come running to find Sun hunkering protectively over you behind cover that's on fire, with soot stains on your faces, and your hair sticking straight up. Moon doesn't have to ask. Sun bans you from combustible material for a whole week while he starts trying to dust the black stains off of you. You only concede because the scorch marks are going to take just as long to scrub out (if possible).

Sun has his moments of coming out of his charging station only to catch the smell of something acidic and a deep sense of dread. He drops to the lower levels of the tower and finds you dangling above the floor, suspended in Moon's arms, over a great spill of acid currently eating through the stone. Sun can only ask if you and Moon are alright, which you are save for a few holes eaten out of your lab coat. Moon decides without argument that you need to take a break from experiments involving vats of acid.

[againstme]

hi folks 👋🏾😖

i need help making rent, i've been out of work for the past week dealing with a gnarly face injury that swelled my whole face with blood for days!

i shelled out over 100 dollars on getting to and from urgent care, not including all of the medical supplies i had to buy with my own money since the doctor left me to deal with an oozing facial wound myself :))

my rent is 730, i know my paycheck is gonna be short by at least half of that because i missed 5 days, and i have around 80 dollars right now. if you're able to help or share:

venmo: chaseallxn

paypal.me/chxseallen

[starshinenoa]

My New Tall Assistant, part 19 ‼️🔥✨

Sorry for the slow posting, I love this comic and I will keep posting I swear

ENJOY‼️

▶️My ko-fi◀️

Part 1 | Part 18(prev) | Part 20(next)

[nikolliver]

Sillies for you!!

And valentine's day version yeee

[strawberrymothteeth]

PART 1 [here]

PART 2 [?]