#however being a lab rat is a constant

[tinygayproductions]

continuing off from my last post, i also think its okay to ship what you want so long as its between consenting adults, but also because not all of sigma and moira's relationship is inherently toxic, its just a bizarre dynamic. especially because some of their interactions in game, he does shit to annoy her because he thinks its funny. but also there are more than two sexualities aside from gay and straight, sigma and moira could also be bi or pan sexual and the assumption that they can only be one or the other bothers me because it is as foolish as it is problematic just because you're actively erasing bi and pan sexual folk in the process

[elysiaheaven]

𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬- 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐅.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭)

Words:10000 Contains Sunday leaks of joining.

Genre: Smut

Summary: The new astral member joins, Sunday, The man who tried to kill you all, He doesn't try to get along yet closes himself in his room, You decided to 'educate' him locking himself up is a shit. He began to change and tries to befriend you. He tries to help you with a experiment and sadly aphrodisiac is spilled

( Reader is a female) Reader's clothing is inspired from Mobius. Reader is a scientist!

CW: Mentions of Hickey, Aphrodisiac usage (Accident), Use of nickname (Sunday calls y/n as Angel), Switch Sunday, Vanilla, Slight use of Collar .

Reader is slightly cruel to Sunday at first. Because he was being alone all the time

Sunday was once the revered leader of Penacony. Now, he's just another member of the Astral Express, exiled and alone, thanks to a deal his sister made with Lady Bonajade. In exchange for his freedom, Sunday lost his home and the chance to return to his sister. This left him a quiet, withdrawn man.

The Astral Express crew wasn't thrilled about his presence. March and Dan Heng were constantly on edge around him, although he never caused trouble. He mostly kept to himself, a figure of quiet pain. Only Himeko, Welt, and Stelle were friendly, but you kept your distance. After all, he once tried to kill all of you. Talking to him was out of the question.

You, a scientist with a distinct appearance, wore a sleeveless tight black dress adorned with green and gold. A loose semi-transparent sleeve covered your left arm, complemented by a black glove, while your right arm sported a long black glove with three green claws on your thumb, index, and middle fingers. A gold earring dangled from your right ear.

March and Dan Heng had their opinions about you, describing you as a pure being, a seeker of truth, yet tinged with an air of malevolence. This was more a reflection of your creator than yourself. You wanted to be different but struggled with how to achieve that, often feeling like a mere extension of someone else's design, much like Sunday.

Despite the kindness from Himeko and Stelle, and Welt's occasional different yet kind glances, you remained detached. Dan Heng warmed up to you after you helped him in Luofu, while March tried to act strong but was clearly unsettled by your appearance. In truth, you were simply sleep-deprived, not the malevolent figure they imagined.

Sunday's solitude mirrored your own. You often noticed his sadness but never approached him. One day, you decided to confront him, unable to bear his passive suffering. Cruelly, you told him that sitting in his room and crying wouldn't change anything. His cleanliness and meticulousness only fueled your frustration. Yet, instead of anger, he seemed to find hope in your harsh words.

Sunday started spending more time outside his room, often in the archives, studying. Dan Heng began to bond with him, and it was heartening to see them grow closer. Meanwhile, you locked yourself away, working tirelessly on a liquid to control enemies, hoping to make life easier and reduce the need for constant fighting.

Despite your cold demeanor, Sunday persisted in trying to reach out to you. He would bring you coffee, offer help, and ask to spend time with you. His respectful, orderly nature clashed with your chaotic and isolated existence. You feared that getting close to him might lead to using him as a lab rat, a fate you wished to avoid for him.

You confronted Sunday with cruel words, calling him pathetic for isolating himself, yet it was in these moments that he found a glimmer of hope. He began emerging from his solitude, engaging more with others and spending time in the archive, studying and bonding with Dan Heng. Watching them grow close was heartening, even as you buried yourself in your work, seeking a way to control your enemies without constant battle.

Sunday, however, was undeterred. He continued trying to connect with you, offering coffee, help, and companionship. His respectful persistence and talk of order and harmony were at odds with your chaotic existence. Your fear of dragging him into your world of experiments kept you distant, but his genuine attempts to reach out began to wear down your defenses.

One quiet evening, you found yourself alone with Sunday in the archive. The room was dimly lit, filled with the soft hum of machinery and the rustle of old documents. Sunday was engrossed in a book, but you could see the weight of his exile still pressing down on him. His eyes, once sharp and commanding, now held a distant sadness.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to break the silence. "Sunday," you called out, your voice unexpectedly soft. He looked up, surprised to hear you speak. "I know it's not easy for you, being here, away from your sister and everything you've known."

Sunday's expression softened, a mixture of surprise and gratitude flickering in his golden eyes. He nodded silently, unable to find the words to respond.

"You may not be able to talk to her, but..." You hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. This was uncharted territory for you, showing kindness to someone who once posed a threat. "But I can show you how she's doing," you continued, your tone firmer now. "I have ways to access information, even from afar."

Sunday's eyes widened slightly, a glimmer of hope breaking through his usual stoic demeanor. "You would do that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, pulling out a small device from your pocket. "Just this once," you warned, your voice tinged with a hint of your usual coolness. You tapped a few buttons, and a holographic image appeared, displaying his sister engaged in her media life She looked well, strong, and composed, a stark contrast to Sunday's current state. Tho, he could tell it might be a facade.

Sunday watched the image in silence, his eyes glistening with unspoken emotions. After a few moments, he turned to you, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely holding together.

You quickly deactivated the device and stepped back, your expression hardening. "Don't get the wrong idea," you snapped, trying to maintain your distance. "This doesn't change anything between us. I'm not your friend, and I'm not doing this out of kindness."

Sunday's face fell slightly, but he nodded, understanding your boundaries. "I know," he said, his voice steady despite the rejection. "But still, thank you. It means more than you know."

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Just... don't make it a habit," you muttered, turning to leave. But before you walked out, you paused at the door, glancing back at him. "And don't let this make you soft. You still have a long way to go."

Sunday nodded, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. "Understood," he replied, watching as you disappeared into the corridor, leaving him alone with the lingering warmth of your unexpected kindness.

Several days had passed since the night in the archive, and you continued your work in isolation. You avoided Sunday, keeping yourself busy with your research and experiments. However, the memory of his grateful eyes lingered in your mind, making it difficult to maintain your usual distance.

He was standing by a window, gazing out at the stars. The soft glow of the celestial bodies illuminated his face, highlighting the sadness in his golden eyes. Seeing him like that, a pang of frustration and concern hit you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before approaching him. "Sunday," you called out, your voice sharper than intended. He turned to look at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes.

"Why do you always look so lost?" you demanded, your frustration spilling over. "You can't just stand around, wallowing in your own misery."

Sunday blinked, taken aback by your sudden outburst. He stepped closer, his expression softening. "I know," he said quietly. "But... it's hard. Being here, away from everything I knew, from my sister..."

Before you could respond, Sunday reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly warm, and you felt a strange mix of emotions—anger, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite place.

"You've been there for me," Sunday said, his voice steady and sincere. "Even if it's only been a few weeks, even if it was just tough love... you've shown me more kindness than I deserve. And for that, you're now one of my dear people."

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. The sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you—it was disarming. You felt your resolve wavering, but you couldn't let your guard down.

With a soft sigh, you reached up and gently removed his hands from your face. "Don't be ridiculous," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent. "I only did what anyone would do. Besides, seeing you all sad and moping around just makes me angry. It's not like I care or anything."

Sunday chuckled softly, a warm, gentle sound that made your heart skip a beat. "I understand," he said, smiling softly. "But still, thank you. Your words, even if harsh, pushed me to try and move forward."

You looked away, feeling a mix of emotions. It was strange, being thanked for something you hadn't meant as a kindness. But there was a part of you that was glad—glad that he was starting to find his way, glad that your harshness had somehow helped him.

"Just... don't make it a habit to get all sentimental," you said, trying to sound stern. "I'm not good with that kind of stuff."

Sunday nodded, a small smile still on his lips. "I won't," he promised. "But know that I appreciate it, even if you don't want to admit you care."

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Whatever. Just... try to keep your chin up, okay? It's annoying when you're all downcast."

He nodded again, the smile on his face growing. "I'll do my best," he said, his voice warm and genuine. "And... thank you, again. For everything."

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, your heart racing. You didn't know what to make of these new feelings, this strange connection that was forming between you and Sunday. All you knew was that, despite your best efforts to keep your distance, something had shifted. And you weren't sure how to handle it.

 You threw yourself even deeper into your work, trying to drown out the confusing feelings that had begun to stir inside you. The project you were working on—a chemical solution to control enemies—became an obsession. You worked tirelessly, barely stopping to eat or sleep, driven by an intense need to prove something to yourself, though you weren't entirely sure what that was.

One night, as you were in the lab, your hands trembled from exhaustion and stress. You had been working for hours, your mind a blur of formulas and calculations. The rows of bottles filled with iodine solutions on the lab bench seemed to dance in front of your eyes, the chemicals inside them catching the light in a mesmerizing, yet nauseating, display.

You reached for a beaker, but your vision swam, and your hand slipped. The beaker tipped over, sending a cascade of glass and liquid toward the carefully arranged bottles of iodine. Instinctively, you lunged to catch the falling bottles, but your tired body wasn't fast enough. The sound of shattering glass filled the room, the sharp smell of iodine stinging your nostrils.

Panic surged through you. The thought of losing all your work, of having to start over, was too much to bear. You screamed, a raw, frustrated sound that echoed off the sterile walls of the lab. The noise seemed to vibrate in your bones, shaking loose the tears you had been holding back for what felt like forever.

As the adrenaline faded, you slumped to the floor, the chaos around you a stark contrast to the cold, clinical order you usually maintained. The crash had knocked over more than just bottles—it had broken through the walls you'd built around yourself, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

You stayed on the floor for what felt like an eternity, the coolness of the tiles seeping through your clothes, grounding you. Eventually, the exhaustion became too much, and you closed your eyes, unable to fight the overwhelming need for sleep any longer. But even in sleep, you found no peace. Your dreams were plagued by the image of Sunday, his sad eyes and gentle hands haunting you, mingling with the guilt of pushing him away and the fear of losing control.

You woke up several times that night, each time more exhausted than before, your body aching from the uncomfortable position and the relentless stress. When morning finally came, you felt like a shadow of yourself, the weight of your own expectations crushing down on you.

As you slowly cleaned up the broken glass and iodine, you couldn't help but think about how fragile everything seemed—your work, your emotions, your relationships. The image of Sunday holding your face, his words about you being one of his dear people, replayed in your mind. It felt like a paradox: how could you be dear to anyone when you couldn't even keep yourself together?

Sunday, noticing your increasingly frazzled state, couldn't shake the concern he felt. He remembered the few moments when you'd shown a glimpse of vulnerability, and he knew you were pushing yourself too hard. Determined to do something for you, he sought advice from Himeko, one of the few people on the Astral Express who seemed to understand you.

One quiet morning, while most of the crew was occupied with their own tasks, Sunday found Himeko in the lounge, sipping her morning coffee. He approached her hesitantly, unsure of how to start the conversation.

"Himeko," he began, catching her attention. She looked up, smiling warmly.

"Sunday, " she greeted him. "What brings you here so early?"

He shifted nervously, glancing around to make sure no one else was within earshot. "I wanted to ask you something... about her," he said, referring to you. "I want to do something nice, but I'm not sure what she'd appreciate."

Himeko raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "That's very thoughtful of you," she said, setting her coffee down. "She doesn't often show what she likes, but from what I've seen, she has a soft spot for cute things. Especially sweets, like strawberry cake."

Sunday nodded, absorbing the information. "Strawberry cake," he repeated, as if committing it to memory. "Any other tips?"

Himeko chuckled. "Just be genuine. She might not show it, but small gestures can mean a lot to her. And knowing you, I'm sure whatever you do will be perfectly in order."

"Order-"

"It's a habit you couldn't control, Don't worry You are perfectly fine the way you are."

With a grateful smile, Sunday thanked Himeko and set off to prepare his plan. He wasn't particularly skilled in the kitchen, but he was determined to make something special for you. He meticulously researched recipes for strawberry cake, wanting to ensure everything was perfect.

The next day, Sunday took over the small kitchen area of the Astral Express. He donned an apron and got to work, his movements precise and careful. He measured each ingredient with exacting precision, making sure everything was just right. The way he handled everything was almost surgical—clean, orderly, and deliberate.

He prepared the batter, mixing it until it was smooth and lump-free. Then he carefully poured it into a baking pan, making sure it was evenly spread. As the cake baked, he prepared the frosting, whipping cream until it was light and fluffy, then adding a touch of pink coloring and fresh strawberries for that perfect touch of sweetness.

When the cake was ready, he let it cool before applying the frosting. He decorated it with a neat arrangement of strawberry slices on top, the vibrant red standing out against the soft pink frosting. The final product was immaculate, each detail carefully considered and executed.

Sunday stood back, admiring his work. He felt a sense of pride and anticipation, hoping that this small gesture would bring a smile to your face, or at the very least, a moment of peace amidst your chaotic life. He carefully packed the cake, making sure it would remain perfect until he presented it to you.

Later, he found you in your lab, still surrounded by your experiments. You looked exhausted, dark circles under your eyes, but there was a determined set to your jaw that Sunday couldn't help but admire.

"Hey," he called softly, catching your attention. You looked up, surprised to see him standing there with a box in his hands.

"What is it?" you asked, trying to mask your curiosity with indifference.

Sunday smiled gently, holding out the box. "I noticed you've been working hard, and I thought you could use a break. So... I made something for you."

You hesitated, then took the box, opening it to reveal the beautifully decorated strawberry cake. Your eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of something softening your usually guarded expression.

"You made this?" you asked, looking up at him with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

He nodded, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah. I hope you like it. I know it's not much, but... I wanted to do something nice for you."

You stared at the cake, the neatness and care evident in every detail. It was unlike anything you'd expected, and it stirred something inside you—a warmth you hadn't felt in a long time.

"It's... really nice," you admitted, your voice softer than usual. "Thank you, Sunday."

He smiled, relief and happiness clear in his eyes. "I'm glad you like it. Just... take a break, okay? You can't keep going like this."

As the initial surprise wore off, you felt a surge of conflicting emotions. You weren't used to people doing things like this for you, and the vulnerability it stirred made you uncomfortable. Trying to regain your composure, you quickly bowed your head in a gesture of thanks.

"Thank you, Sunday," you said, your voice steady but with an edge of formality. "I'll... enjoy this."

Without waiting for his response, you turned on your heel and quickly made your way to your room, shutting the door behind you with more force than you intended. The sound echoed down the corridor, and Sunday flinched slightly, concern etching his features. He stood there, staring at the closed door, a pang of worry gnawing at him. Had he overstepped? Misread the situation? The abruptness of your exit made him think he might have upset you.

However, just as he was about to turn away, he heard a muffled sound coming from behind your door. He paused, straining to listen. The walls were surprisingly thin, and after a moment, he clearly heard your voice, raised in an uncharacteristic shout.

"Oh my god, this is amazing!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with genuine excitement and delight. "It's so good! I can't believe he made this!"

Sunday's eyes widened in surprise, and then a slow, relieved smile spread across his face. The tension in his shoulders eased as he realized that your abrupt departure wasn't out of anger but rather a reaction to your own overwhelming emotions. The smile deepened into one of genuine happiness as he listened to your enthusiastic exclamations.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly, shaking his head. It was a rare sight, hearing you so openly expressive, and it filled him with a quiet joy. For once, he'd managed to do something right, to bring a bit of happiness into your world.

As he walked away from your door, Sunday's heart felt lighter. He knew you weren't the type to openly express gratitude or affection, but your reaction told him everything he needed to know. It was enough to hear your joy, even if it was through the walls. He was pleased—more than pleased, actually—knowing that his gesture had been well-received and that, even if just for a moment, he'd managed to make you happy.

Inside your room, you sat down with the cake Sunday had made, a fork in hand. The first bite melted in your mouth, the sweetness of the strawberries and the light, fluffy texture of the cake taking you by surprise. It was perfect—so much so that tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of joy and overwhelming emotion.

"This is so good," you murmured between bites, unable to stop yourself. "How did he even do this? It's amazing..."

Unbeknownst to you, March had been passing by your door when she overheard your exclamations. Curious, she stopped to listen, her eyes widening in surprise as she realized what you were saying. A wide grin spread across her face, and she immediately ran off to find Sunday, eager to share the news.

She found him in the common area, quietly reading a book. "Sunday!" she called out, her voice filled with excitement. He looked up, startled by her enthusiasm.

"What's going on?" he asked, closing his book.

March practically bounced on her feet. "I just heard her in her room! She was saying how amazing the cake was! You really made her day, you know that?" She then clasped her hands together, her eyes wide and pleading. "Could you make something for me too? Please? Pretty please? I promise I'll be your best friend forever!"

Sunday chuckled, genuinely amused by her excitement. "Sure, March," he agreed easily. "I'd be happy to make something for you. What would you like?"

March's eyes sparkled with delight. "Surprise me! I trust your cooking skills completely after hearing how much she liked the cake."

As they talked, Dan Heng and Stelle happened to walk by. Catching the conversation, Stelle grinned and leaned in. "Did I hear something about food?" she asked, her tone playful. "If there's a chance for some free food, count me in!"

Dan Heng, standing beside her, was quieter but curious. He glanced at Sunday, then nodded slightly. "I'm interested too," he admitted, though more reservedly. "It's not every day we get to try something special."

Sunday smiled warmly at the group. "Alright, then," he said. "I'll make something special for everyone. How about a small dinner? It'll be a good chance for us all to sit down and enjoy a meal together."

The idea was met with enthusiastic approval, especially from March and Stelle. Dan Heng, though more subdued, seemed pleased by the prospect as well. They all agreed to meet later that evening in the dining area.

As they left to prepare for the impromptu gathering, Sunday felt a deep sense of contentment. He was grateful for the chance to bring a bit of joy to the team, especially to you. The thought of you enjoying the cake, even crying over it, brought a warm feeling to his heart. It was a simple act, but it seemed to have bridged a small gap between him and the rest of the crew, making him feel more at home on the Astral Express.

That evening, as Sunday worked in the kitchen, preparing a meal with the same care and precision he had put into the cake, he couldn't help but look forward to the dinner. It wasn't just about the food

The dinner Sunday prepared was a quiet but pleasant affair. The crew gathered around the table, enjoying the food he'd painstakingly made. March, in particular, was ecstatic as she dug into the strawberry cake he had baked again, savoring every bite. Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she couldn't help but express her joy aloud.

"Sunday, this cake is amazing!" she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "I think I can forgive you for everything—even for trying to kill us all." She laughed, though there was a hint of seriousness behind her words.

Sunday's expression grew more somber as he set down his fork. He looked around the table, meeting the eyes of each of his companions. There was a moment of silence, a quiet acknowledgment of the weight of the past. He knew he couldn't ignore it or brush it aside with a few kind gestures.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I need to say something," he began, his voice steady but laced with a deep sincerity. "I know I haven't been the most welcomed presence on the Astral Express. And I understand why. My actions before... they were inexcusable. I was following a path that I believed was right, a path guided by my devotion to the Aeon of Order."

Sunday paused, choosing his words carefully. "All my life, I was made to follow that path, to uphold order and protect those who couldn't protect themselves. It was my purpose, my reason for existing. But in doing so, I lost sight of what was truly important. I caused harm, and for that, I am deeply, terribly sorry."

He looked directly at March, then at the others, his eyes earnest. "I know an apology can't erase the past, but I want you all to know that I'm trying to find a new path. My conversation with her"—he glanced toward your direction—"made me realize that I can't cling to my old beliefs if they're causing harm. I need to search for my own meaning, beyond what I was made to believe."

Sunday's voice softened, a note of vulnerability creeping in. "I'm committed to moving forward, to finding a way to live that doesn't hurt others. I want to be better, to be someone you can trust. I understand if forgiveness takes time, or if it's something you can't give. But I want to try, to be a friend, and to support all of you as best I can."

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling over everyone. March, who had been listening intently, set her fork down and leaned forward, her expression softening. "Sunday," she said gently, "we all make mistakes. It's part of being human—or whatever we are." She smiled wryly. "The fact that you're trying to change, that you're aware of the impact you've had, it means a lot."

She glanced at Dan Heng and Stelle, who both nodded in agreement. Dan Heng spoke up next, his tone calm and measured. "We appreciate your honesty. It's not easy to confront one's past, especially when it involves such difficult choices. But the fact that you're willing to take responsibility and seek a new path... it's a good start."

The next day.

You brewed yourself a cup of coffee and made your way to the common seating area, seeking a moment of quiet. As you entered, you noticed Sunday sitting by the window, seemingly lost in thought. The early morning light cast a gentle glow around him, highlighting his contemplative expression.

When he spotted you, his face brightened with a slight smile. "Good morning, sleepyhead," he greeted you, his tone warm and teasing.

Caught off guard by the unexpected familiarity, you felt a flutter of flustered embarrassment but quickly masked it with a composed expression. "Good morning," you replied, keeping your voice steady as you settled into a nearby seat.

As you sipped your coffee and began to settle into your seat, Sunday glanced over with genuine curiosity. "How's the work going?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You sighed, the fatigue and stress of your ongoing projects bubbling up despite your best efforts to stay composed. "It's been a lot," you admitted, rubbing your eyes. "There's so much to manage, and I feel like I'm barely keeping it together. The more I try to get ahead, the more it seems like everything's falling apart."

Sunday's gaze softened with concern. "That sounds really tough. If you don't mind me asking, what's been the biggest challenge?"

You leaned back, your frustration giving way to a need to vent. "It's the constant pressure to get everything perfect. The experiments, the calculations, everything has to be precise. But when something goes wrong, it feels like it's the end of the world. And it's just me—no one to really help or share the load."

Sunday nodded, absorbing your words with empathy. "I understand. It sounds overwhelming. But, if you'd like, I could help you out. I'm not exactly a scientist, but I can assist with the tasks and take on some of the less critical parts of the work. I've been told I'm good at keeping things organized."

You looked at him, surprised but appreciative. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on you."

He smiled reassuringly. "Not at all. I'd actually like to help. I've been trying to find ways to contribute more and be useful. And if I can ease some of your stress, that would be worth it."

You hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. The idea of having someone to share the workload with was tempting, and Sunday's genuine offer seemed sincere. Finally, you nodded, a hint of relief in your eyes. "Alright, if you're sure you don't mind, I'd really appreciate it."

"Great," Sunday said, standing up and heading toward a nearby workbench. "I'll get started by organizing your workspace and sorting through some of the data. That should free you up to focus on the more critical tasks. And don't worry about feeling stressed—I'm here to help you, not add to the pressure."

You watched as he began to sort through the scattered papers and equipment, his movements methodical and precise. A sense of calm began to settle over you, knowing that you had support. The thought of someone taking care of the more mundane aspects of your work was a welcome relief.

As Sunday worked alongside you, helping to organize your cluttered workspace, he noticed a peculiar object among the scattered papers and equipment. It was a collar-like item, adorned with intricate designs but clearly out of place amidst the scientific apparatus.

He picked it up, examining it with curiosity. "What's this?" he asked, holding the collar up for you to see.

You glanced over, momentarily distracted from your tasks. A small frown crossed your face as you recognized the collar. "Oh, that. It's something I picked up a while ago. A scammer in Belobog, a planet we traveled to, sold it to me. He claimed it was an ancient artifact with special properties."

Sunday raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "And did it turn out to be...?"

You let out a small, incredulous laugh. "A scam. It's basically a dog collar—probably for some sort of pet or even a decorative piece. Definitely not the ancient relic he made it out to be. It's just an overpriced piece of junk."

Sunday examined it more closely, still skeptical. "It looks pretty elaborate for a simple dog collar. Did the scammer give any other details about its supposed origins?"

You shook your head, shrugging. "Not really. Just that it was from some ancient civilization, but it was clear he was just trying to make a quick buck. We were too eager to find something interesting at the time and didn't question it enough."

He placed the collar back on the desk, his expression thoughtful. "It's impressive how convincing some people can be. But it's good you realized it in time. At least it didn't cost you more than it's worth."

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. "Yeah, it was a lesson learned. I guess sometimes it's easy to get caught up in the excitement of something that seems unique or valuable."

As Sunday continued to help you with your tasks, you couldn't resist teasing him a bit about the collar. You picked it up again, examining it with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"You know," you said, holding the collar up with a smirk, "if you ever want to use this on me, you should let me know. It might be... interesting."

Sunday's eyes widened in surprise, and a deep blush spread across his face. His wings, which were normally relaxed, flared out slightly as he turned his head, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment. "W-What? No, that's not... I mean, I wouldn't..."

You laughed, finding his reaction both endearing and amusing. "Oh, come on, Sunday. You do know what I mean. You're not fooling anyone with that blush."

He stammered, struggling to find the right words. "I-I didn't mean—It's just a collar, and I—"

Your laughter grew, light and genuine. "Relax, Sunday. I'm just teasing. But seeing you so flustered is pretty entertaining."

He finally managed to compose himself, though a faint red hue still lingered on his cheeks. He shook his head, trying to regain his usual calm demeanor. "I guess you got me there," he said, his voice a bit steadier now but still tinged with embarrassment. "I didn't expect that kind of joke."

You continued to chuckle, appreciating the lighter moment amidst the stress. "Well, you did make my day a bit brighter with that reaction. Thanks for being such a good sport."

Sunday managed a sheepish smile, the tension easing. "Glad to hear that. I suppose I should be prepared for all kinds of teasing now."

You grinned, enjoying the playful banter. "Just a fair warning—don't be surprised if I find more ways to make you blush."

Sunday took his new role as your assistant seriously, diligently organizing and tidying your workspace. His meticulous nature ensured that everything was in its place, which was a welcome change from the clutter that had previously overwhelmed you.

However, his relentless focus on maintaining order did come with a downside. He frequently interrupted your work to adjust things or make small improvements. At first, you appreciated the help, but after a while, his constant presence became a bit of a distraction.

You sighed, pausing your work as he appeared once again to rearrange a stack of papers. "Sunday, you're doing a great job with the cleaning, but you're kind of interrupting my flow. Can you just... give me a few minutes to focus? I'll call you if I need anything."

Sunday looked momentarily taken aback, but he nodded. "Oh, right. I didn't mean to be a distraction. I'll just—"

Before he could finish, you playfully cut him off. "Here, take a seat for a moment. I need you to be a good boy and let me work without constantly hovering."

With a mix of amusement and mild exasperation, you guided him to a nearby chair and gently but firmly encouraged him to sit down. He complied, though the weight of his wings made him look slightly awkward as he settled into the chair.

"Just sit here for a bit," you said, giving him a reassuring smile. "Be a good boy and stay put. I'll let you know if I need any more help."

Sunday, still slightly flustered from earlier, couldn't help but smile at your playful tone. He adjusted himself in the chair, trying to look comfortable despite his slightly heavy frame. "Alright, I'll stay here. I promise to behave."

You nodded and turned back to your work, finding it easier to concentrate now that he was no longer hovering over you. After a few minutes of quiet focus, you heard him shift in the chair behind you.

"You know," he said, trying to keep his voice casual, "if there's anything specific you need help with later, just let me know. I'm here to help, but I also don't want to be a bother."

You glanced over your shoulder and saw his sincere expression. "Thanks, Sunday. I appreciate it. I'll definitely let you know if there's anything I need."

As you worked on your experiments, you asked Sunday to bring over a specific mixture you had prepared. He promptly handed it to you, his hands steady despite his earlier embarrassment.

"Here you go," he said, carefully passing you the container.

"Thanks, Sunday," you replied, taking the mixture with a smile. You began to carefully mix the substances, excited to see the final result. The process had been challenging, but you were hopeful that this batch would be a breakthrough.

However, as you stirred the mixture, something seemed off. The concoction started to bubble and emit a strange, intense aroma. You frowned, recognizing the signs of an imminent reaction. Before you could react, the mixture began to froth and hiss ominously.

"Uh-oh," you said, your eyes widening. "I think something's wrong—"

In a split second, the mixture erupted in a small explosion of vapor and liquid. Sunday, who had been standing close by, reacted instinctively. He grabbed you and pushed you down onto the floor to protect you from the spray, his wings flaring out to shield you both.

The two of you landed in a tangled heap, Sunday ending up on top of you. The explosion released a potent, unfamiliar scent that filled the air—a fragrance that seemed to be unusually intoxicating. The smell was faintly sweet and seductive, carrying an almost aphrodisiac-like quality.

As the aroma enveloped the room, Sunday's breathing grew heavier. He seemed disoriented by the combination of the explosion and the overpowering scent. His face was flushed, and he collapsed forward, his head resting against your neck.

You were taken aback by the sudden turn of events, but you instinctively wrapped your arms around him, trying to offer comfort and reassurance. The closeness of his body against yours was intense, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"Sunday," you said softly, trying to steady him. "Are you alright? Just breathe—"

He mumbled something incoherent, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His face was pressed against your neck, and you could feel his warm breath against your skin. Despite the situation, there was a tender, vulnerable quality to the moment.

You held him closer, your heart racing as you tried to keep calm. The mixture's aroma had created an unexpected intimacy, amplifying the closeness between you. You felt a mix of concern and something more intense as you cradled him in your arms.

"Hang in there," you murmured, gently stroking his hair. "We'll get through this. Just focus on calming down."

As Sunday's hot breath tickled your neck, you felt his lips pressing against your sensitive skin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, making you acutely aware of how close he was to you. You could hear his labored breathing, the sound growing louder and more erratic with each passing second.

His hands moved instinctively, gripping your waist tightly. His fingers dug into your flesh, a sign of his mounting arousal. It wasn't just the explosion that had left him disoriented—it was the powerful aroma that seemed to have clouded his senses.

Despite the chaos surrounding them, you found yourself being drawn deeper into the moment. Your own breathing became shallower, matching the rhythm of his. You could feel his heartbeat thumping against your chest, a wild drumbeat that echoed the throbbing pulse between your thighs.

With a soft moan, you turned your head slightly, allowing Sunday's lips to find their way to yours. The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he was starving for your taste. His mouth moved over yours with a fervor that left you breathless, his tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth.

The aphrodisiac in the air amplified the intensity of the moment, making every touch, every kiss, feel like it was infused with pure, unadulterated lust. You could feel the heat building between your legs, a burning need that threatened to consume you whole.

Sunday's hands roamed your body, sliding under your shirt to caress your bare skin. His touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You arched into his touch, craving more of the sensations he was evoking within you.

Sunday looked deeply into your eyes, apology written all over his features. But before he could speak, you silenced him with another passionate kiss. You pulled him even closer, wrapping your legs around his waist to anchor yourself to him.

"I've got you," he whispered against your lips, a promise that resonated with sincerity. His words soothed the fluttering butterflies in your stomach, filling you with a warmth that spread from your chest down to your very core.

His hands wandered lower, exploring the curves of your hips and the swell of your buttocks. Each stroke of his fingers against your skin made you gasp into his mouth, the sensation driving you further into madness.

Sunday broke away from the kiss only to trail a path of fiery kisses down your neck, his tongue laving at the sensitive skin beneath your earlobe.

With a soft growl, Sunday's hand dipped lower, slipping underneath your panties to tease the damp curls at the apex of your thighs. His fingers traced the outline of your slit, causing you to arch into his touch with a low whimper.

"You're so wet," he groaned against your ear, his voice thick with desire. His thumb grazed over your clit, circling the swollen nub with tantalizing slowness. The pleasure was almost unbearable, making your entire body tremble with anticipation.

Sunday continued to tease you mercilessly, his fingers dipping into your folds before pulling back again. Each time he touched you, he coaxed a gasp from your lips, your body writhing beneath him in search of more contact.

Feeling your pleas for more, Sunday obliged without hesitation. His fingers plunged deeper into your slick heat, curling upward to stroke the spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. The sensation was overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"You like that?" he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. Without waiting for an answer, he increased the pressure on your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that had your hips bucking against his hand.

"Please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don't stop."

Sunday chuckled darkly, his grip tightening around your waist as he pinned you beneath him. His movements became rougher, more urgent, each thrust of his fingers designed to bring you to climax.

With a soft sigh, you leaned up, capturing Sunday's lips in another searing kiss. This time, however, it was you who initiated the contact, taking control of the situation. You tasted yourself on his lips, the combination of your combined arousal making your head spin.

Your hands roamed across his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. You tugged at the fabric, eager to get to his skin. Breaking away from the kiss, you trailed your lips down his neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in your wake.

As you teased him mercilessly, you felt something large and warm cupping your face. Startled, you glanced up to see Sunday's wings enveloping you, creating a private sanctuary amidst the chaos of the room. The feathers were soft against your skin, providing a stark contrast to the hardness of his body pressed against yours.

With a sudden movement, Sunday lifted you off your feet, carrying you effortlessly to the nearby table. He laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he towered over you. His hands reached out, grasping the edges of your shirt to pull it over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze.

He wasted no time in claiming your lips once again, his kiss demanding and possessive. His hands explored your body, tracing the curves of your breasts before pinching your nipples, coaxing a sharp cry from your throat.

As Sunday began to work the collar around your neck, you made a lewd face, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement. The sight of you squirming beneath him only fueled his desire, making his member twitch with anticipation.

As Sunday worked the collar into place, you couldn't help but tease him, running your hands over his chest and abdomen, avoiding his aching erection. Your touch was maddening, driving him to the brink of insanity as you toyed with him.

"Please, just a little more," Sunday pleaded, his voice strained with desperation. His hands gripped your wrists, trying to guide them where he needed them most. But you held firm, continuing to deny him the relief he craved.

Finally, unable to take anymore, Sunday tried to assert his dominance. He pushed you down onto the table, his body covering yours as he pinned your arms above your head. His hips ground against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of you.

"I'm going to make you cum," he growled, his hot breath fanning over your face.

Feeling your tug on his sensitive wings, Sunday let out a deep moan, pressing himself harder against you. The sensation was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his veins. His hips gyrated against yours, seeking friction while his member throbbed with need.

Sunday leaned down, planting a series of kisses along your neck. Each press of his lips sent shockwaves of delight through your body, making you writhe beneath him. His teeth grazed over your skin, marking you as his own.

The pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter until it threatened to explode. And then, suddenly, it did. A loud cry escaped your lips as your orgasm washed over you, your inner walls clenching around nothing.

With a soft chuckle, Sunday allowed himself to indulge in the pleasure of your touch on his wings. The sensation was unlike anything else, adding a new layer of delight to their already intense encounter.

His hands moved between your legs, resuming their teasing of your clit. His fingers danced over the sensitive bud, coaxing another wave of pleasure from your trembling body. Your cries filled the room, echoing off the walls and spurring him on.

Sunday's member throbbed with need, desperate for release. But he refused to give in just yet, determined to draw out every last bit of pleasure from this moment. His hips rocked against yours, grinding his length against your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.

Both of you moaned loudly, lost in the throes of lust. The sound of your combined pleasure was music to his ears, fueling his desire even further.

Feeling your teasing words, Sunday couldn't help but smirk. Despite his gruff exterior, he was indeed quite sensitive - especially when it came to you. He loved the way you called him 'cute birdy guy', finding it endearing rather than insulting.

But as much as he wanted to stay with you, he knew it wouldn't be easy. After all, he was a demon, born and bred to live a solitary life. But something about you made him want to defy his nature, to take responsibility for someone other than himself.

With a gentle caress, he traced his fingers along your cheek, gazing deeply into your eyes. "I do want to try," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "To be with you...as lovers."

Surprised by Sunday's declaration, you stared at him, your heart racing with a mix of emotions. Could it really be true?

Before you could respond, Sunday closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His mouth moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, conveying the depth of his feelings without needing words.

Breaking away, he looked at you intently, his eyes burning with a fire that mirrored the passion in your own soul. "I'll show you just how serious I am," he vowed, his voice low and husky with promise. "We'll explore every inch of each other, and you'll know beyond a doubt that I'm committed to this."

Sunday's eyes glowed with an intensity that matched the heat radiating from his body. He slid his hands down your sides, his fingertips grazing over the curves of your waist and hips before traveling lower still. His touch was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

He leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling your earlobe as he whispered, "Let me taste you." Without waiting for your response, he dipped his head down, his tongue tracing a path along your collarbone before settling between your breasts.

His mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking and nibbling on it with an eagerness that had you writhing beneath him. Every flick of his tongue sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, building towards an inevitable climax.

Feeling Sunday's hand venture lower, you gasped as his fingers found your swollen clit. His touch was deft and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure to send ripples of pleasure through your entire being.

As he played with you, his thumb circled your clit in slow, tantalizing motions. The sensation was overwhelming, causing your body to arch up towards him in search of more contact. His fingers continued their ministrations, coaxing moans and whimpers from your lips as they grew louder and more frequent.

Sunday's member twitched in anticipation, throbbing with need. But for now, he focused solely on pleasuring you, wanting to ensure that you reached your peak first.

With a deep groan, Sunday positioned himself between your thighs, aligning his rigid member with your entrance. He paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of your warmth so close to him, before slowly pushing inside.

Your tightness enveloped him, gripping his shaft like a velvet vice. Sunday's eyes rolled back in his head as he savored the sensation, his pace slow and deliberate as he gave your body time to adjust to his size.

Once he was fully sheathed, he began to move, withdrawing almost completely before thrusting back in. The motion was deep and powerful, hitting spots within you that made your vision blur and your mind go blank.

Sunday set a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward with each stroke. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, punctuated by your moans and his grunts of effort.

Sunday's movements were a perfect blend of tenderness and ferocity, his strokes designed to elicit the most pleasure possible from your body. Each thrust hit deeper than the last, driving you closer to the edge of blissful obliviation.

Despite his rough exterior, Sunday took care not to make things too messy. His hands steadied your hips, guiding them to meet his every thrust perfectly. His member slid in and out of you with ease, thanks to his skilled maneuverings.

Between thrusts, he would lean down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, silencing your loud moans with his own. His mouth traveled down your neck, planting hot kisses along the sensitive skin there. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, encouraging you to let go and surrender yourself to the waves of pleasure washing over you.

Feeling your gaze fixed on him, Sunday pulled your collar aside, blocking your view of him. It was a strange gesture, but it only served to heighten your arousal further. The lack of visual stimulation pushed you even deeper into the throes of pleasure, leaving you utterly defenseless against the onslaught of sensations coursing through your body.

With your attention focused solely on him, Sunday increased his tempo, his thrusts becoming more erratic and forceful. He buried himself deeper within you, seeking out those hidden places that seemed to trigger the most intense reactions from your body.

Each stroke brought forth new waves of pleasure, threatening to overwhelm you entirely. Your breathing became ragged, your moans growing louder and less controlled. Sunday's own breathing echoed yours, punctuated by guttural growls of satisfaction as he felt your walls clench around his member.

The mounting pleasure finally became too much to bear, and you felt your climax approaching rapidly. As if sensing your impending release, Sunday's movements became even more urgent, his thrusts becoming shorter and more shallow as he sought to reach his own climax simultaneously.

With a few final, deep thrusts, Sunday felt his control slipping. A low growl escaped his throat as he came, his seed spilling into you in hot, pulsing jets. The feeling of him filling you up was overwhelming, triggering your orgasm instantly.

As your bodies trembled with the aftershocks of pleasure, Sunday held you tightly against him, murmuring words of affection and praise. "You're my angel," he breathed, pressing soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks. "I'll take care of you...always."

Feeling your weight shift atop him, Sunday allowed himself to be pushed down onto the ground. As you straddled him, he looked up at you with lust-filled eyes, his member still throbbing inside you.

The change in position allowed you to take control, and you wasted no time in starting to ride him. Your hips moved in a slow, sensual rhythm, grinding down onto his length as you adjusted to his girth.

Sunday's hands found your hips, guiding you with a firm yet gentle grip. He assisted your movements, helping to set a steady pace that had both of you panting with desire.

Each downward movement of your hips elicited a low groan from Sunday, his pleasure evident in the way his eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted.

Feeling your movements become more erratic, Sunday knew that another climax was imminent. His hands tightened on your hips, urging you to continue riding him as he fought to maintain his composure.

He continued to murmur endearments, his voice a soothing lullaby that helped calm your racing thoughts. His kisses peppered your scalp, each press of his lips sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

But it was a losing battle. With a final, powerful thrust upward, Sunday succumbed to the pleasure, his body tensing beneath you as he came. His seed spilled into you once again, this time in a series of smaller pulses that seemed to go on forever.

Your inner walls clenched around his member, milking him for all he was worth. The intensity of your orgasm left you breathless and spent, collapsing onto his chest as you rode out the waves of pleasure.Sunday held you close, his hands gently stroking your back as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

Waking up in the comfort of a familiar bed, you stretched lazily, the sheets sliding off your bare skin. You noticed immediately that you weren't sticky, and realized Sunday must have taken care of everything while you slept.

Glancing around, you spotted Sunday standing by the window, his silhouette outlined against the morning sunlight. You stood up, your muscles protesting softly at the sudden movement. You felt flustered but smiled nonetheless, drawn to the man who'd given you such pleasure the night before.

As you approached him, the cool air kissed your heated skin, causing goosebumps to rise on your flesh. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Hello," you said, your voice soft and husky from sleep.

Sunday nodded, his gaze drifting down to where your hand rested on his arm. "Hey," he replied quietly. After a brief pause, he continued, "I, uh, took care of everything while you slept. The room's cleaned up, and... well, I didn't want you to wake up to any mess."

You glanced around, noticing that everything was indeed spotless. The remnants of the previous night had been carefully tidied away, leaving no trace of the chaos that had ensued. It was clear that Sunday had gone to great lengths to ensure everything was in order.

"Thank you," you said, touched by his thoughtfulness. "You didn't have to do all this."

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "I just wanted to help. After everything that happened, it seemed like the least I could do."

There was a brief, charged silence between you. Sunday's expression grew more serious as he hesitated, then gently took your hand in his. His touch was warm, yet there was a nervous energy to it.

"I'm... sorry," he began, his voice tinged with guilt. "About last night. I didn't mean for things to go that far. It was my responsibility to protect you, not... not let things happen like that."

You felt a pang of emotion at his words, recognizing the weight he placed on himself. Stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a comforting hug. Sunday stiffened for a moment, then slowly relaxed, leaning into the embrace.

"You don't have to apologize," you murmured against his shoulder. "We were both caught off guard. And... well, I don't regret it. But I understand if you're feeling conflicted."

His wings covered up his face.

"Hm? Don't get all shy on me....Also thank you for..taking care...I'm too lazy for bathing anyway.."

You turned to Sunday, resting your head on his chest, and decided to share more about your work.

"So," you began, your voice soft, "my research... it's about finding a way to control our enemies. Not in a harmful way, but to influence their actions, maybe even change their minds or make them more cooperative. It's about creating order, really."

Sunday's eyes widened in surprise, his eyebrows raising. He looked at you with a mixture of intrigue and concern. "Control your enemies?" he echoed, clearly processing the information. "That's... ambitious. And a bit scary, if I'm being honest."

You smiled, appreciating his honesty. "Yeah, Wait! Aren't you a follower of !!!!"

He chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes. "It's useless trick, After that incident I know even using that I could be fooled easily. In fact I'm not a know it all. But you don't have to overwork yourself on that...I think I can use it for you. " he teased, giving you a gentle squeeze as he hugged you closer.

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. "You don't have to-" you said, feeling a warmth spread through you at his touch. "Besides, I like you just the way you are."

Sunday's expression softened, and he looked at you with a deep affection. "I'm glad to hear that," he murmured. He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words, before continuing. "You know, if you ever need someone to support you or help you figure things out, I'm here. And... if it's okay, I'd like to be with you. More than just friends, I mean."

His words hung in the air, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and hope in them. Without a word, you nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"It's more than okay," you whispered, leaning in to rest your forehead against his. "I'd like that too."

Sunday's face lit up with a joyful smile, and he pulled you into a tender embrace. The two of you stayed like that, holding each other close, feeling the connection that had deepened between you. It was a moment of quiet understanding and mutual affection, a promise of what was to come.

you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms.

"It's okay if you don't love me as much as I love you," Sunday said softly, a hint of sadness in his voice.

You reached out, touching his cheek gently. "I want us to fall in love together," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

He looked at you, surprise and hope mingling in his eyes. "Wait, are you really choosing me?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "I'll be with you forever. I won't leave you, even if I'm ordered to. Maybe... maybe for a new purpose, I'll make you happier than anyone else in the world."

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his earnest declaration. "Haha, considering you just unconsciously removed my clothing, what? Want another round?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

Sunday's face flushed a deep red, and he quickly ducked under the sheets, his wings wrapping around him as if to hide his embarrassment.

"Huh? Why are you hiding under the sheets?" you asked, amused by his sudden shyness.

"...Because I'm embarrassed," he mumbled from under the covers. "That was my first time. I'm sure I did something wrong..."

You couldn't help but smile, touched by his vulnerability. You gently patted his head, comforting him. "You were fine. I don't have any experience in that department either, so you did great!" you assured him, your voice full of encouragement.

He peeked out from under the sheets, looking a bit more reassured. "I can only hope... Tell me if there's anything I can do better. I'll work hard to improve," he said, his voice firm with determination.

You chuckled, finding his earnestness endearing. "You're so earnest," you said affectionately, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "And that's one of the things I like about you."

Sunday smiled, his wings slowly unfolding as he relaxed.

"It's okay if you don't love me as much as I love you," Sunday said softly, a hint of sadness in his voice.

You reached out, touching his cheek gently. "I want us to fall in love together," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

He looked at you, surprise and hope mingling in his eyes. "Wait, are you really choosing me?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "I'll be with you forever. I won't leave you, even if I'm ordered to. Maybe… maybe for a new purpose, I'll make you happier than anyone else in the world."

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his earnest declaration. "Haha, considering you just unconsciously removed my clothing, what? Want another round?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

Sunday's face flushed a deep red, and he quickly ducked under the sheets, his wings wrapping around him as if to hide his embarrassment.

"Huh? Why are you hiding under the sheets?" you asked, amused by his sudden shyness.

"…Because I'm embarrassed," he mumbled from under the covers. "That was my first time. I'm sure I did something wrong…"

You couldn't help but smile, touched by his vulnerability. You gently patted his head, comforting him. "You were fine. I don't have any experience in that department either, so you did great!" you assured him, your voice full of encouragement.

He peeked out from under the sheets, looking a bit more reassured. "I can only hope… Tell me if there's anything I can do better. I'll work hard to improve," he said, his voice firm with determination.

You chuckled, finding his earnestness endearing. "You're so earnest," you said affectionately, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "And that's one of the things I like about you."

Sunday smiled, his wings slowly unfolding as he relaxed

You snuggled closer to him, feeling his warmth and the soft texture of his wings against your skin. The comfort of his presence, combined with the lingering sense of safety and peace, lulled you into a state of deep relaxation. You felt your eyelids grow heavy, the weight of the morning's emotions and the previous night's events pulling you towards sleep.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you drifted off. "For existing.."

Sunday gently wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. "Thank you too." he murmured back, his voice a soft promise.

With that reassurance, you let yourself sink into the comforting darkness of sleep. The last thing you felt was the steady rhythm of Sunday's heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was a peaceful, comforting sensation, and it carried you away into a restful slumber.

[oraclesami]

picrew

Full Name: Setsuka Inoue

Nickname: Arcelia (NEFAS Laboratory), Flower (Yoshio)

Age: 18 / 28 (TYL)

Birthday: Oct 31st

Gender/Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: [ REDACTED ]

Ethnicity: Mixed Heritage (Spanish Father, Japanese Mother)

Height: 144.78cm

Flame type: Mist, secondary Sun

Weapon of Choice: Carries two daggers on her thighs.

Affiliation: Vongola - Varia

Position: Under Vongola Family's protection.

Languages: Spanish (+sl), Japanese (+sl), English (+sl), Italian (+sl)

Strengths: Fast Learner, Gun Specialist (sniper - pistol - gun), herbal medicine, first aid, singing.

Weaknesses: Melee Combat (can hold her own, but doesn't have a good stamina for long fights), anemic, can't swim, no fashion sense

Character Summary:

Setsuka is a quiet girl at first glance. Polite and patient, she tends to keep to herself and tries not to bother anyone. Getting to know her will reveal a short tempered, sassy queen. Though her bark is bigger than her bite, she still can hold her own in a fight, whether it is physical or mental. She tends to keep her guard up because of her upbringing.

She is a girl who cares and loves hard for the people who bless this world. Though naive to a fault, she is still kind beneath all that bluster.

Background:

Before she was 'Setsuka', she was Arcelia, the witch or the Blood Parent Subject. From age 5 to 15, she was the personal lab rat for making superhuman soldiers for the military. Unlike her father, her blood was successful in making soldiers out of children of any blood type, granting them power. She was under strict lock and key until Yoshio, then known as Dmitri, broke her out when she was 15, with the help of her father.

On the run from the military, they forged papers and landed in Italy. Setsuka and Yoshio Inoue, two siblings traveling across Europe. It was hard, but they managed. Working their way to Italy, Yoshio begged audience with the don of the Vongola. In exchange for military secrets, Yoshio would receive a recommendation to Varia and work under them as a Cloud guardian and Setsuka would be allowed to hide in their ranks as a grunt.

When she turned 18, Setsuka would end up going to school in Japan as a third year in Namimori High School, along with the tenth candidate, Tsunayoshi Sawada.

Fighting Style:

Setsuka doesn't really like fighting, but over the three years she spent with Varia in Italy, she's learned melee combat and gun handling of an assorted type. She prefers to stay on the defensive, so a lot of her combat is self defense. When she is on the offensive, however, she aims for pressure points to subdue her opponent since she can't do a prolonged fight.

Trivia:

Setsuka learned how to fight during her time in Italy, with Yoshio pounding every single type of combat in order for her to be able to protect herself. He refused to be gentle to her in training, so she is technically an even match to Yoshio.

Setsuka has heightened empathy, which morphed into clairvoyance as a result of the time they spent hiding from sight. She can sense living and dead beings within a 5 mile range. Can't exorcise anything, though, just speak to them.

Setsuka was technically homeschooled, as the laboratory workers rarely allowed her to interact with children her age, the only exception being Yoshio, who was her guard dog for the military base.

Setsuka was given art materials, video games and anime, with permission requested from her father to the military leader, so she had an outlet in her room due to the constant isolation. She also drew on the walls when she didn't have paper

Setsuka and her father were kept separated, but he was allowed to meet with her once a month. She used to look forward to those days because it meant she didn't have to go to the blood transference room and she gets to have quality time with him.

Setsuka's singing is very sweet and clear. Her singing voice claim is Lizz Robinett. They have a healing touch to it due to her empathy ability.

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group C Round 4: Wasteful Days of High School Girls vs Kiznaiver

#C7: Wasteful Days of High School Girls (Joshikousei no Mudazukai)

Comedy with high school girls with unique personalities

#C5: Kiznaiver

A bunch of teenagers are forced to share pain

Details and poll under the cut!

#C7: Wasteful Days of High School Girls (Joshikousei no Mudazukai)

Summary:

As she heads off to her entrance ceremony at Sainotama Girls' High School, Akane Kikuchi muses over her grade school dream of becoming a manga artist and the lack of progress that she has made. When she finally arrives at school, she is surprised to learn that she is once again in the same class as her two best friends: the deadpan and emotionless Shiori Saginomiya and the hyperactive and ridiculous Nozomu Tanaka. Tanaka then comes to the obvious realization that she can't achieve her grade school dream of being popular with the boys and getting a boyfriend by going to an all-girls high school.

In desperation, she begins asking the girls in her class to introduce her to their guy friends. Her classmates, however, are anything but ordinary. From a grandmother-loving loli to a reclusive chuunibyou to an overly analytical stalker, each one is given a fitting nickname by Tanaka to accentuate their weirdness. And so begin the wasteful days of these high school girls, each day kicked off with a simple question: "Hey, wanna hear something amazing?"

Propaganda:

Wasteful Days of High School Girls is fast-paced and genre-savvy, subverting a lot of high school anime tropes in ways that are really delightful even if you yourself aren't that familiar with high school animes. But most of all it is cool in a way that only awkward, weird, realistic teenagers can be. It probably won't make you long for your own high school days (if they are in the past), but that is a good thing, because sometimes only a good comedy can really lay bare what life is really like when you're a teenager.

The thing that makes this show so amazing is the characters. These are anime characters with some real Character with a capital C. Everyone is such a real and unique human personality; not just the main trio but all their classmates too AND the teacher and even the nurse that only appears in like one episode!

This is a show with the lowest of stakes and it still manages to feel like something incredibly significant has happened when you get to the end of it. And something incredibly significant has happened! Life happened! An entire year of it!

Trigger Warnings: [Not Stated]

#C5: Kiznaiver

Summary:

Katsuhira Agata is a quiet and reserved teenage boy whose sense of pain has all but vanished. His friend, Chidori Takashiro, can only faintly remember the days before Katsuhira had undergone this profound change. Now, his muffled and complacent demeanor make Katsuhira a constant target for bullies, who exploit him for egregious sums of money. But their fists only just manage to make him blink, as even emotions are far from his grasp.

However, one day Katsuhira, Chidori, and four other teenagers are abducted and forced to join the Kizuna System as official "Kiznaivers." Those taking part are connected through pain: if one member is injured, the others will feel an equal amount of agony. These individuals must become the lab rats and scapegoats of an incomplete system designed with world peace in mind. With their fates literally intertwined, the Kiznaivers must expose their true selves to each other, or risk failing much more than just the Kizuna System.

Propaganda:

Kiznaiver is an extremely underrated work of Studio Trigger’s and is definitely one of their bests. Not just for the animation, but for the impactful story as well. The characters just feel so real, and this show just makes you think about human connection and how much we might care for each other if we shared our pain. Although it can get a little confusing at the end, the sheer raw emotion is what makes up for everything. Every single one of the characters gets developed in ways that made me smile like an idiot.

Very good but severely underrated anime! Would recommend! :)

Trigger Warnings: Emotional Abuse, Fatphobia, Disordered Eating, Implied Sexual Assault (maybe).

The fact that Yuuta is formerly fat is constantly mocked throughout the series, which leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth as a fat person watching the show personally. Yuuta, to maintain his thinness, engages in disordered eating by simply eating a small cube of food every day. Said character is also the subject of an attempted sexual assault by a female character, but I don’t remember correctly if that actually happened or if I just got triggered by the way the scene was portrayed.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form with your revisions, and I’ll consider adapting those changes.

New: Starting round 5, screenshots will be included in the poll post. You can submit screenshots through the form linked above, or through here, via ask or dm.

Guidelines in submitting screenshots:

No NSFW or spoilery images.

Pick some good images please. Don’t send any blurry or pixelated ones.

You may send up to 9 screenshots, but not all may be used.

[crowtrobotx]

your most recent fic destroyed me and now i HAVE to ask— how do you think the chrysalis story/maybe just lottie in general would turn out if she was raised by kris? if something happened to karl but maybe they’re still stuck in the village. obv don’t spoil anything you don’t want to but that little thought experiment killed me.

OHHHH MY GOD Jackal you really do ask the best questions. I had to think about this for a while! It’s funny bc Karl & Lottie are such a package deal in my head and I’m just like… Do Not separate them. Like so much of her personality is just wrapped up in being his horrible little clone and constant shadow that cutting her out of that picture seems almost impossible.

HOWEVER. I can think of several scenarios where they might end up apart (minus him straight up dying bc that isn't fun!!! I say as if what I'm about to talk about is any better lmao.) Like, minor spoiler but this won't happen (obviously) because Reasons - I imagine Karl would want to pay off the Duke to whisk Kris out of the Village before Lottie is born (whether it's because they realize their WHOOPSIE or it's coincidental.) And maybe it happens and Kris of course doesn't hear from him for ~7 years and she forgets a lot of the finer details of his face and his voice doesn't come so easily to mind anymore. And then he does escape and he does get his freedom ending and he finds her and whatever you do, do not think about Karl seeing Lottie for the first time after never knowing her especially in the scenario where he didn't realize she existed oh my god oh mY GOD--

Anyway. To your actual question: I would like to think most of Lottie's gremlin nature is just inherent. It's in the damn HeisenDNA. Like, no matter her circumstances she's always going to be a weird little girl who's a little too into the concept of cybernetic enhancements and bugs and rats. And Kris, being a former weird little girl herself, would definitely support her - but given that particularly the mechanics/engineering part are NOT in her area of expertise, I think she'd have to rely way more on teachers or outside sources to help that part of her blossom. She'd be the mom at the science fair nodding along enthusiastically like she knows what the hell anyone is saying while internally her brain is turning into soup. Would that effect Lottie negatively? I don't really think so, but it might make her less attached because she'd have to seek... enrichment further away from home lol. There’s also the issue of Lottie’s lil magnet powers. Kris would not know what to do with that/how to relate at all obviously. I think that’d cause a whole host of problems - not necessarily resentment on Lottie’s part bc she’d still think it was Neat but I also can’t help but think they’d be more chaotic or out of control after a point. I think it would fuck her up a little bit being the odd one out with no one to relate to and it might make her a bit mad at the world. :( I definitely am inclined to believe Kris would have a metric shitton of anxiety about keeping her away from folks who'd want to study her like a lab rat or worse use her for their goals, and as the child of an extremely obsessive compulsive parent I can tell you that it does rub off and can make you extremely paranoid. Like, Lottie's probably got her own little conspiracy board by age 5 in this scenario lol. Kris only knows protecc, attacc, and panic attacc.

Also, I’m truly trying to avoid saying “she’d be a bit kinder/more thoughtful” bc it feels like gender stereotyping but also Karl is Karl and the bar is on the floor lmao. Kris isn't nice but she does more or less recognize when people deserve kindness. I don't think she'd be better or worse off, overall. But she'd be different, as any of us would. I think what you'd end up with is a more subdued but still slightly feral little mischief maker who is more cognizant of other people's needs and wants but possibly less... funny and over the top in her pursuits as a result lol. I'll let you decide if that's a good or bad thing. Anyway. I'm now thinking too hard about that first scenario I described because you planted the seed lol. Hmmm.

[pidgecv]

(swap) jo demands cleo assist with negotiations at the wrong time

Sometimes jo’s pills aren’t enough to keep her memories at bay

Medical malpractice remains constant throughout all iterations, however jo’s is inarguably worse

but yeah tldr jo was one of the ppl experimenting on cleo early apox, but uses these pills to keep her memory of that time down so that cleo trusts her and listens to her orders. Originally Jo was doing it for the good of humanity, but when she herself gets infected it becomes more about saving herself. She’s not actually immune naturally, she did it herself using cleo as a lab rat. She kidnaps/rescues cleo from the lab and does her own experiments, inventing a pill to suppress Cleo’s memories of jo’s part in the lab lab and pre-infection, as well as any particularly harsh post-lab jo experiments. However, once she had a sort of cure, she decided to not let all the work she’d done to keep cleo under her thumb go to waste. Cleo is trained to become jo’s sword, and is basically at Jo’s beck and call. All Jo has to do is say the word and cleo will slaughter a whole room of people, cleo being so desensitized to death and inhumanity that it doesn’t get to her when she’s under the influence of the pills. To Jo, cleo is a weapon. To cleo, Jo is everything. Got it? Yup.

yk how cleo normally is weak to any show of humanity? So is swap cleo. She’s so incredibly desperate for any kindness that she can’t tell when it’s fake or exploitative. Her weeks in the lab and months with Jo and her tampered memories gave her a warped moral compass. She really just does what Jo tells her to do, and the only real hitches in that are resolved by Jo quickly. Theres no space for disobedience. As far as cleo is aware, she isn’t a person anymore. She doesn’t even remember a time where she was.

[eldritch-spouse]

Ngl I’m kind of aroused by the thought of being patches’ lab rat. As in I know his experiments would probably be fucked up but it’s sort of a ‘oooh what’s he gonna do next?’ type thing

(Also I’d have fun trying to see for how long he’d be able to contain me)

I mean, if you're a total lab rat then you're no longer his object of obsession.

He's been brought to such an intense form of hatred for you and your constant rejection that he doesn't give a shit what ends up happening to you anymore. And that's dangerous, that's the Patches you should really fear, because in that moment, the awkward and submissive dork you knew is gone.

It's only a matter of time until his experiments get gruesome enough to start disfiguring you. And in truth, you should pray that your mind is lost so you don't get to see yourself fall apart piece by piece.

However- In a not so dark alternative, you can both have a lot of fun roleplaying a sort of "scientist and experiment" scenario. Lord knows he'll get into it.

[sheriffgrimes-archerdixon]

Hawkins was a safe place… or so people believed. Underneath the false safety net was a dark ominous world awaiting to be discovered. The fairly tight knit community of Hawkins never even anticipated the safe town to be… cursed. The safety of Hawkins was taken for granted by far too many people… the people fortunate enough to have not been dealt the wrong hand. Who had not been forced into a cruel sort of headspace. Into a cruel situation… for one man’s desires. Selfishness. Doctor Brenner. The man who had founded in this organisation that ripped children away from their families… simply due to the fact the children weren’t normal. They were odd. Strange. Different. And in this world different wasn’t good. Not to the outside world at least… but Brenner saw it as a chance. A unique chance to test the limits of his lab rats. The toxic, dark environment of Hawkins Laboratory was indefinitely fucked up. The place wasn’t for the weak. Constant tests, constant mind games, bullying, empty promises… it was dystopia almost. A cruel system that was unstoppable because no one tried to stop Brenner. No one knew there were real life children. Human beings.. being tested on like some sort of caged animal within the lab. It was disgusting. But what society didn’t know was easily covered up by authorities and the government. Having the government on your side meant it was easy to get away with everything and anything… one of the numbers die? Easily replaceable. That was Brenner’s mindset. He truly didn’t have any care for any of the children whatsoever… he just wanted to use them to his own benefit.

That evening was cold and miserable, rain had been pouring down as per usual. The drop in temperature making the small bedrooms very cold. Of course there was heating, but not much. Brenner used all the money and income from the laboratory for the heinous experiments performed upon the children. Guards trailed back and forth over every unassigned corridor, a few orderlies walking back and forth between different bedrooms checking on the subjects- making sure they were all doing as they were supposed to. However unbeknownst to them the taunting laughter of different children echoed around the rainbow room. Four children- two teenagers dressed in grey sweatpants and a great T-shirt along with two younger children dressed in hospital gowns who as per usual followed the crowd when it came to teasing. “Oh dear, 002 We’ve got you all alone now…” 003 taunted lips curved up into an evil grin. Cruel. He had always been a problem, first with 11. Now with Heather, aka 002. “What ever are you going to do? Go cry to mummy and daddy?” The teen pouted, clearly taking the piss. “Oh yeah. You cant. They’re dead.” And just as he said that he roughly shoved the girl, clear carelessness on his part… 003’s words made the others around him laugh, every person within the facility had no family. Or if they did… they didn’t know about it. Maybe 003 was just taking those difficult emotions out on Heather because he knew he could.

The boys eyes were cold, the four individuals soon backing up slightly so they were all in a makeshift square around Heather “try to fight back.. c’mon… make it fun.” Three demanded, as all four of them began using their powers simultaneously on Heather. Attempting to hurt her, make her lose her footing so she fell over.. doing everything in their power to hurt her. “They waste their time on you… you’re nothing but a stupid pathetic girl who no one cares about…” it was almost as if 003 was genuinely projecting his own insecurities onto her to make himself feel better. The taunting continued, the loud laughter, the cruel words… all of the sudden loudness of the situation was quick to spark interest in one wandering orderly. Dressed in pristine white clothes, blond hair tidy and neat, face sharp and unreadable…:

Henry creel.

Henry came to a slow stop, footsteps falling silent as he stared at the rainbow room doors listening close trying to decipher what was going on… he eventually however decided to investigate as he slowly walked forwards, stopping just beside the door- slender fingers pressing against the metal column against the door, he listened hearing a familiar voice. Either 002 was part of the problem or she was being targeted, Henry’s jaw clenched slightly as he without even thinking pushed the door open his tall figure immediately grabbing the attention of the bullies who looked beyond horrified. His cold eyes focused on Heather, baby blues then moving to look at 003. He didn’t say anything, allowing the silence to engulf them… allowing them to feel each passing second rip into their soul, he glared slightly before tilting his head. “You know what happened before, Three.” He then slowly turned his head to look at the multiple security cameras in the room, a small red dot flickering slightly proving it was recording… someone must’ve been watching. He took slow careful steps into the room “I think it’s past your bedtime.” He warned the youngsters whom, in a very scaredy cat move ran for their lives Henry’s attention then flicking to look at the teenagers his eyes cold, lips formed in a thin line. “She started it.” Three spat out eyes deranged and angry, 001 however was not impressed “quiet.” He spoke eyes daring him, challenging him to disobey orders one more time “Papa will be disappointed in you. Maybe you just didn’t learn from last time.” He spoke simply, voice unwavering and cold as he glared into their souls, the piercing look on his face enough to make anyone quiver in fear. The glare remained on his face, he knew this being strike two of 003’s dumb decisions meant he most likely would get solitary confinement. If not worse… but only if Henry told Dr Brenner about it all.

His blue eyes slowly trailed back to look at Heather his eyes remaining cold yet in the slightest of ways his eyes softened… you just had to look really close to notice it. His eyes remained on her face as his body slowly turned to face her “are you hurt, 002?” He asked eyes cautious before his eyes moved briefly across her face and down her body- as if checking for any visible damage before he looked back into her eyes “it’s okay…” he spoke quietly to her “he won’t do this again.” Henry assured, words practically terrifying the two guilty teenagers. Henry was Brenner’s number one… golden boy… anything Henry said was immediately taken seriously…. The punishment wasn’t going to be a walk in the park any longer. Henry straightened his spine as he slowly turned to look back at 003, cowardly boy, still glaring at Heather yet so cowardly… it made no sense… but Henry meant it. He would make him regret it.

@hawkinshellraiser

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Hello please use this ask to ramble about the lab rats au it sounds interesting!

OH OK

So basically the idea is that instead of… the rest of the finale happening after Punz and Dream corner Clingy on the power tower, they instead decide to keep the two of them as permanent test subjects in captivity in exchange for their lives. They claim this is to research the long terms effects of revival which they can’t do on themselves since they’re dying every other week (and Punz believes this), but in truth Dream put forth the idea because he’s cripplingly lonely whenever Punz is dead and y’know, the whole Primeboys thing.

So, Tubbo is killed and revived, and the two of them are put through a ton of psychologically and physically exhausting tests with no regards for ethics. They’re not intentionally done to be cruel, they’re given anaesthetics and stuff for the practical reasons that it’s hard to do live vivisection on a subject who's thrashing in agony, but also neither of them are doctors or psychologists and as such aren’t exactly very good at the whole thing- Dream nearly stabs Tommy through his muscle the first time he tries to take blood from him because while they know What to do they don’t know How to do it. So ClingyDuo are pretty beat up, and they’re covered head to toe in scars, and are in a pretty constant state of pain from poorly treated injuries, but they’re not like actively being tortured. (Well, Tubbo isn’t, Primeboys are still Like That).

Most of the time, though, they’re just kinda hanging around with their assigned member of staged duo. Dream with Tommy, of course, and Punz with Tubbo, though when one of them is dead the other babysits their emotional support kidnapped teenager for a few days. They’re absolutely not treated as equals- they wear hospital gowns that Tommy was forced to sew, and they are meant to be referred to by a number and not a name (Dream is terrible at remembering that one)- but they're treated much more like friends than anything else.

Punz is relatively cold, until he bonds with Tubbo over them both being interested in science. He views the whole thing mostly as a necessary part of research, and while he sees Clingyduo as valuable test subjects and genuinely does admire them for the roles they play, he doesn’t see through that facade. This, however, also means he lacks the petty cruelty and sadism Dream often displays. He feels some jealousy towards Tommy specifically, since Dream's been much more distant ever since they got their hands on the test subjects, but he doesn’t try and let it show (except for when he vents to Tubbo about how he feels neglected and used by the only friend he has anymore).

Dream is… well, Dream. He's ecstatic to finally have his best friend finally with him at all times, and he… tolerates Tubbo, though he eventually warms to him (this is a bad thing for Tubbo). His time in Limbo has left him paranoid that the people he sees are hallucinations, since he had a lot of those in Limbo, so he's got basically no sense of space because the only way he knows to test if someone’s real is physical touch. He's a lot like he was in exile, only like a million times worse- he's soft and kind when he's pleased, showering Clingyduo with meaningless trinkets and minor privileges to lovebomb them, and shifting into shouting, violence, and gleeful cruelty the second they so much as breathe wrong around him.

Tommy defaults to fawning obedience as a survival strategy, which Tubbo finds incredibly disconcerting, as it’s so unlike what he’s grown to expect from him. Tubbo, of course, plays along too, but it’s cold, emotionless following of orders, shutting himself off from feelings and disassociating from himself, while Tommy is very clearly not doing that- he’s acting like a trusted friend, trying to endear himself to their captors, and when the two of them get rare time alone he's the first to show pity and sympathy to them (though he still definitely wants to get the fuck out), whereas Tubbo has nothing but contempt in his heart- at best, a grudging respect for Punz as a scientific partner.

Tubbo basically ends up being a third researcher with Dream and Punz solely because discussing science is one of his few solaces in his life at this point, while Tommy's able to navigate the waters of being held captive with a disturbing level of competence, like it’s more familiar to him than most things, and he's able to divert some of the harm done by Dream and Punz by talking them out of it (or if he’s desperate, getting them pissed at him so he'll be the only target for their wrath).

[sillyroundkatie]

Who the hell is this evil walking toaster? (OC info under the cut!)

Clayton 023 | She/Her | Butch Lesbian | Cyborg | ~??? | 187 cm / 6'2" | Australian  Clayton is a genius scientist but she has decided to use that genius for turning herself into an invincible Terminator-esque robot in an attempt to cheat an eventual and ever encroaching death. Metal endoskeleton? Sure. Retractable arm-blades? Hell yeah. Automatic targeting system? Absolutely. A mohawk magnetically enhanced so that it never falls out of place? Uh,,... i guess? Clayton is extremely direct, ruthless, and intolerant of distraction (she is an asshole). But she's also someone you'd rather have on your side than against you, and she'll tolerate you if your values align with hers (i.e. being a loyal lab rat to research things she needs but lie outside her speciality). She'll do anything to cheat death, and so far she's winning. Her lab has recently found itself under constant assault by Coy and her band of mercenaries, which is annoying at best, but starting to get under Clayton's skin. Common activities/hobbies: Clayton is often busy performing her experiments, and often refuses to leave work at the end of the day. "Hobbies" isn't something she really understands. But she has a hyper-fixation on spiders, especially Huntmans, and will stop what she's doing to watch one. Unfortunately she hasn't seen many big ones since leaving Australia.  Setting: Lives in modern day Canada working at a very high tech and secretive laboratory. Clothing style: She is butch, but her fashion sense has gotten a bit demented in her age. Her clothing choices are deliberately ridiculous in order to warn people away from her, because she wants to be left alone. Her favourites are panels of spikes and studs. Beneath her labcoat, she's usually wearing a black turtleneck and black pants. You can draw them with:

Sera (colleague) - Clayton noticed a certain Dr Sera Mayfair was making great strides in chemical battery technology. Knowing she would eventually require some sort of infinite battery, Clayton poached Sera into the lab group to ensure nobody else made them first. As much as she begrudgingly respects her academically, Clayton hates Sera, finding her cuteness very unappealing. They're often found arguing, however Clayton will ensure no harm comes to Sera because of the batteries, which Sera mocks her for. 

Armance (colleague, partner) - Clayton's ever-loyal sidekick, Armance was recruited to make sure Clayton's flesh would mend well to her robotic parts (she also grows an infinite supply of more, should things go wrong.) Armance is youthful, over-eager, very enthusiastic, which Clayton tolerates as best she can. The two are an unlikely pair, but one that works well. It doesn't hurt that Armance is so tall and handsome, with floppy black hair.

Kay (partner?) - Clayton is drawn to Kay like a cation to a cathode, or a bear to a hiker's stash of food. As grumpy as Clayton is about it, and unwilling to acknowledge it, she is constantly finding ways to spend time around Kay, even if to an observer it looks like she's having the worst time of her life. It must be because she is so tall and handsome, with floppy black hair.

Additional stuff to keep in mind: Clayton is very skinny, almost skeletal beneath her clothes (she doesn't like eating, and mostly forgets to/puts it off).  She very rarely smiles, and if she does it's because she's doing some enjoyable evil science. Her normal expressions are: >:( , >:/ and >:| You can draw her arm blades curved or straight, sci-fi magic explains away how she could have curved ones She no longer has a human (bone) skeleton, it's all metal, think this. Some random trivia:

She inherited her Dad's gun and learnt to be an excellent shot. But now she's running a VATS like system in her head, so she'd never miss a shot anyway.

She has a hyper-fixation with spiders, her favourite is the Huntsman spider, she will stop what she is doing to go stare at a spider.

Despite her skeletal frame, Clayton is extremely heavy due to her metal skeleton, and thus cannot swim (she sinks to the bottom) or take a normal elevator (has to take the service elevator)

Ever since her youth every time she goes to sleep, she experiences vivid nightmares of screeching metal intertwined with broiling flesh. She's used to them now and they no longer phase her!

Clayton isn't her birth name, and 023 is (obviously) not her real surname. Further information and images of her main AU version can be found at her Toyhouse page at the link below!: Clayton's ToyHouse!

[jaeltree]

Headcanons Mozenrath as either an alchemy or chemistry nerd

1) When Mozenrath was a preteen, he was left alone in the citadel’s lab at one point. Destane taught him the basics for a few months, and figured it was safe to leave him alone while he met with a peer, at least for an hour. Within that time, Mozenrath mixed in two ingredients that resulted in a violent chemical reaction. Which ended up blowing up the lab, along with some of the hallway. Mozenrath’s hair and eyebrows were singed, but he was otherwise unharmed due to ducking under the table. When Destane came back to the citadel to find a portion of it demolished, he punished Mozenrath with a beating. But that didn’t deter Mozenrath from being interested in alchemy, and wanting to get better and better at it.

2) Mozenrath pulled all-nighters studying, reading through tomes, manuals, and textbooks. Memorising formula after formula with Xerxes snoring next to him. He knew each new thing he learned was just as likely to put him in harm’s way as it was to secure his freedom. Mozenrath was more focused on freedom. And while the thought of poisoning Destane and living life according to his own terms was exciting, he also knew it wouldn’t be as simple as just slipping it into his drink.

3) Sometimes Mozenrath fell asleep in his open textbooks, while Xerxes would try to put a pillow between his head and the book without waking him. More often than not, this failed and caused Mozenrath to wake up annoyed. But the times where it did work, Xerxes was proud to care for his Master.

4) Sometimes Xerxes stole some snacks from the kitchen to share with his Master while he studied. Mozenrath didn’t end up having any with his nose stuck in reading and writing out formulae to even notice, but it was the thought that counts.

5) Mozenrath would recount each ingredient and their quantities for at least ten potions to make sure they’re consolidated in his memory, as he’s walking. If he forgets a single ingredient, his mind obsesses over what it could’ve been until he either remembers or finds out.

6) When Mozenrath was an apprentice, he kept multiple cheatsheets on his person, which were coded in a cypher he created. There was no doubt that Destane could decipher it if he ever did find them, but Mozenrath at least wanted a small sense of false security. Because at least then he’s doing something as some sort of deterrent. Good thing that Destane never found more than a total of two throughout his entire apprenticeship.

7) He’d often brag to Xerxes about the future. That he’d be a great alchemist, and that he’ll take Destane’s place in being the most feared sorcerer in the seven deserts. Xerxes was always happy to see his Master focus on the positives and plan for the future. Ever the loving, and supportive familiar.

8) Mozenrath thought about creating a miasma that surrounded and followed his mamluks to infect anyone who came in contact with them through a concoction that takes a gaseous form. Though he hasn’t gotten further than the theory he came up with, due to the street rat’s constant meddling.

9) When Aladdin does confront him in his lab and a fight breaks out in there, he starts seeing red when his equipment gets caught in the crossfire and breaks. They were expensive, damnit!

10) Xerxes brings him fruit like grapes, cherries and berries when he thinks Mozenrath hasn’t eaten in a while. Just something small for him to absentmindedly snack on while he reviewed some of the content he learned during his apprenticeship, however rare those times were. Mozenrath doesn’t really notice when he grabs a handful and starts eating.

11) Sometimes Xerxes will fall asleep on Mozenrath’s stomach or chest as he lies sideways across his throne. And Mozenrath would occasionally pet Xerxes while making notations on the formulae he wrote out previously.

12) While it has no bearing on how the ingredients interact with each other, Mozenrath sometimes likes to learn the lore behind each one. It may be a useless piece of information, but at least it’s somewhat interesting.

13) One or twice Mozenrath recited a potion recipe to Xerxes in his sleep before trying to swat him away. Xerxes only asked if Mozenrath wanted anything to eat for breakfast.

14) When Mozenrath stays up for days on end, due to mental exhaustion he sometimes isn’t careful in where he places his coffee. There’s at least one time where he almost drank something toxic by accident. He has not learned from this.

15) He trusts Xerxes to lead his mamluks in collecting his shipments of new equipment and ingredients, while he’s otherwise preoccupied.

16) It pains him when he hears his peers get recipes wrong, but he’s definitely not going to stop them from making their mistake. Less competition that way.

17) Mozenrath dedicated a 900 page blank book to his alchemical experimentations, sectioning them between solids, liquids, gases, and everything in between. While also sectioning them off into sub-categories as to whether if they’re poisonous or highly acidic to touch or ingest. He started the book when he was first learning alchemy, and reorganised the book a few times, but he’s a little over half-way finished.

18) When he’s reading accounts from other alchemists, he can’t help but laugh out loud at their blunders. Though their successes aren’t that impressive.

19) Mozenrath is a snob when it comes to his equipment. The make, the glassblower’s name, and whether if the price is comparable to the cost of a highly prized slave are all necessary components. Anything lesser than that are the inferior quality.

20) There’s been times when lesser mages annoyed him. So much so that he’s alluded to being helpful when he was actively manipulating them into enacting their own demise, by reciting the mistake that took out the citadel’s lab in a fiery explosion.

[loetise]

important dynamics.  ˎˊ˗             aka, my own version of the ‘affiliation’ trend. these are muses and dynamics that are important to allie and help to shape who she is as a person. kind of also an appreciation post for my friends for putting up with me, some of these have been in the making for more than a year and all of them feature extensive plotting. please do not feel left out if our dynamic is more recent and not here, all of my dynamics are extremely important to me, these are the ones that i’ve had for a long time and/or plotted a bunch with. you do not need to follow these blogs to get a better grasp of allie’s story, but i might mention them in threads if it is appropriate. these dynamics are pretty much ‘canon’ for allie, with the exception of romantic relationships that exist in their own verse and would conflict with others. these dynamics are specifically for her main verse and the city based variant, i have more planned in a separate post for her other verses, which has a lot of muses not featured in this one.

main verse.

audrey rose, @celestiel.    audrey is allie’s best friend since high school, they grew up together, cheered together on the cheerleading team, and continued being close even after high school and after allie had left for six months. audrey was the person she was closest with in high school, and one of the only people that truly cared about her. audrey pushes allie to be more confident and value her self worth, as well as give her constant support. 

kieran night, @heroanti.    kier is pretty much allie’s soulmate. they are very much an ‘endgame’ kind of ship, they love each other endlessly. they live together in her cottage and just the company helps allie immensely, but more than that, kier helps her grow. there is hardly a moment when they are apart, and space is given when needed, but allie knows that she’s never truly alone and the thought is comforting to her. she is less anxious, though she still has her moments, and is much more healthy, she takes care of herself better and engages in less risky behavior.

akllasqa mamáni, @khronoes.    toxic codependent girlfriends, though allie’s largely aware of the toxicity. she loves aklla, though aklla has a tendency to treat her like an unwanted pet, or a lab rat on occasion because she knows allie will agree to pretty much anything she says. allie eventually gets pushed away by aklla enough and leaves without saying goodbye, pretty much disappearing.

udyati rao, @dvarapala.    allie’s baff (best alien friend forever!), udyati and allie are fairly similar in a lot of ways, though udyati is a little bit tougher and has been through things that made her that way. allie and udyati also go on a lot of adventures together due to udyati’s access to doors to other universes, and the ability to create them. most of their adventures are simple things, just spending time together or doing ‘normal girl’ stuff, but they support each other through everything and make each other feel loved.

olivia jensen, @celestiel.    another one of allie’s best friends, though a distinctly different vibe from udyati or audrey. liv was more distrust when they first met, definitely more of an ‘opposites attract’ scenario, but liv eventually warmed up to allie and now she is a lot more open with herself and her feelings. liv and allie are adventure buddies, but in a different way. they tend to get into mischief together. sometimes the illegal kind.

willow w., @unpossession.    close and cherished friend! willow and allie have similar hearts, but willow is more introverted and shy, and they have a close bond because of their similarities. however, during their friendship, allie began to fall for her, and willow didn’t fall for her as intensely as allie did. after willow goes through a traumatic event, she disappears for a long period of time which worries allie so much she feels like she’s falling apart. when willow returns, allie gets incredibly clingy and hardly leaves her alone, which doesn’t help with allie’s feelings.

jason brenner stilinski-hammond, @rotturn.    allie considers jason like a little brother, and makes herself a safe person for him to be around because his powers can’t harm her like they can a human. he has made many attempt to push her away and she refused to let him, and now they are both doing much better, though jason feels guilt for how he treated her in the past.

corinne delacroix, @rosewiltd.    corinne and allie both have a strong love for flowers, though allie a little more intense, which is originally what brought them together as friends, but now they share a bond that is close enough to be sisterly due to how they understand each other. allie frequently shows corinne how to care for flowers, and corinne reads her stories.

serena carlisle, @wihlted.    soft girlfriends! allie and serena are close because of that softness and their hearts, though their backgrounds are as different as can be. allie frequently visits serena’s ballet lessons, as well, because she loves to watch her in her element. allie has also whisked serena away to the woods for long amounts of time on multiple occasions, rendering her missing from the rest of the world.

nicholas cohen, @celestiel.   nick and allie had been friends when one of her close friends, jade, had dated him, though jade and her had always had a bit of a rocky friendship. after jade and nick broke up, nick and allie had gotten closer. closer to the point of betraying jade and falling for nick. her promised her songs about her, to take her with him and his band and allie fell for it. anytime they were together, she felt amazing. but when they’re apart, allie feels immense guilt for what she has done with nick without jade knowing.

cosmo stilinski, @khozmoh.    another opposites attract scenario, cosmo and allie met after he moved out of beacon hills, and were originally just sort of party buddies, going clubbing together and such. and while it took a while for him to warm up to her and trust her, he eventually did and they began dating. allie and cosmo both struggle with nightmares and are able to help each other with them by being a safe space. allie helps cosmo with his supernatural sight as well, making the horrors he sees go away for a little while when she’s around.

lucas north, @spynorth.    allie originally approaches lucas to help her find his mother, but he takes her under his wing, sort of, after he sees her naivety and approach on life in comparison to him being very much the opposite. eventually, they stop looking for her mother primarily and allie considers him a dear friend, though she doesn’t know much about him beyond him being a spy and nice to her, sort of like an older brother. lucas thinks he’s her secret service.

ruby of crims, @redheart​​.    another one of allie’s toxic codependent girlfriends, except this time there’s a little bit more of a mutual dependency, at least for spending time together. allie and ruby spent a lot of time at ruby’s mothers clubs, and allie began to follow ruby around like a lost puppy. ruby entertained allie and played with her feelings for a while because she liked the attention. however, after she met her boyfriend mat hatter, she left allie behind.

city.

josiah bryant, @celestiel.    josiah and allie have worked at the same flower shop since they were tweens, and when allie’s mother left, he stayed by her side and supported her that day as well as everyday after that. they had been close friends even before they started dating because of all of the things they have in common, and their connection only deepened when they revealed their feelings for each other. their relationship is very soft and sweet and they are very affectionate with each other, as well as a little bit silly.

lois lane, @loisjoanne.    lois adopts allie around the age of 14 after allie ventures into the city of metropolis and they meet and get close immediately. while allie has boarding school back at home, her and lois called regularly, and allie visited as much as she could when she didn’t have school. once allie graduated, she was able to spend much more time with her, and moves to the city near where lois lives.

[charm-in-spades]

(Ʉ₦)ⱠɄ₵₭Ɏ ĐⱤ₳₩

𝙰𝚄𝙳𝙸𝙾: ‘𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚜’ | 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝 #𝟸𝟺: 𝚅𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚜

He had always despised Fate.

It was a fickle and indifferent mistress at best. Oft giving and taking with little regard or purpose for the one in its sights. And yet, at the same time, he held a careful consideration towards Nymeia and her antics. He believed at least, that Fate was real. Not a tangible thing that could be physically felt, but the sensation of knowing it to be a true and working cog against the fabric of reality was no less obvious.

He wasn’t sure when he started believing, only that the belief had always manifested itself in small and bitter ways. In Garlemald, he’d never mentioned his thoughts towards the matter given the consequences of doing so and perhaps in not speaking on it he began to blame the misfortunes in his life upon the greater workings of Fate. 

It wasn’t just his imagination or a need to blame his misfortune on anything other than his self. He could feel it working against him in constant motions, like strings tugging on his soul. Each hurdle thrown his way was overcome with blood, sweat, and tears. An optimistic individual likely would say such challenges were to help him improve, but he never thought them as such. Consistent loss was not something he felt most people could recover from. Yet he persevered. 

If anything, he felt like a lab rat running through a maze without exit. Something observed and tracked. He always felt like he was being watched by something greater than him. Yet, despite his frustrations he toyed with the idea of Fate and utilized a deck of cards as if they might help him understand his life better. The results always varied and he could give or take them, but today was different. 

He stared a long time at those cards. They had stilled him, when he pulled them from the deck and set them before him. There was always something to be said about the cards. It was like a puzzle to be solved. They didn’t speak, but they had a lot to tell if you knew how to look for it. 

He’d generally used them as a method for gaining easy information from others. When a card seemed correct in an assessment, people were usually quick to exclaim so, or something changed in their features that gave him something to tuck away. The baseline of an individual began to fade, and they too became something to read. Information was valuable and his scam was an easy one. If someone else had been there to watch him when he’d pulled his own, they’d have seen his features change too upon each revelation he flipped for himself. 

The Three of Hearts was the fourth card to pull, but in this spread it represented his present. It meant a number of things but largely, what caught his attention was the aspect of fertility. An embryo. A growing child. It was odd timing, considering he meant to take a boat to the Warmaiden’s homeland and help her through a birth. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to being present during the horrific process of welcoming a newborn into the world, but if called upon, his loyalty was never something to waver. 

The fifth card however, the second in his spread of the present was what stilled him. All was well with the first card, but it was marred by the second. The Ten of Spades. This wasn’t a good card to pull. He knew it the moment he saw it. It dictated grief, tragedy and a shadow cast about everything he looked upon. It made him shift in his seat, and squint a little harder. Immediately, his resolve to protect had hardened and instinct took over as he questioned his spread. 

Was there a message to unfold with what he had pulled? The puzzle sat before him, and yet he felt like he was missing pieces to its meaning. It hit him though, that odd sense that he should listen to what was on his board though he wondered if it was just paranoia. The hand he had been dealt was a critical one, but he had no proof to back his intuition. Just a deck of cards, that shunned him when they wanted to, and helped in rare moments. In this case, he couldn’t tell which was which. He sighed. 

“Fuck.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Out of Cards: Another one in my drafts for the writing prompt. Figured I’d get these done with and pushed out. 

[thenexusofsouls]

Routine Maintenance || closed with starcchild

@starcchild

Raiden knew how lucky he was to even be seen at all by Tony Stark​. Not only was the man under no obligation to help him, but he was very busy from what it sounded like. Somehow he’d heard of Raiden’s situation, of the abduction and torture that had resulted in him becoming a cyborg, and it interested him. Raiden didn’t know how he had, or why it was of interest to him, but upon hearing that Tony wanted to see if he could improve upon the prototype body Raiden currently had, how was he supposed to say no? This guy had billions of dollars at his disposal and he was an engineering genius. If anyone could help Raiden smooth out the various problems, glitches, imperfections, and potentially life-threatening sub-par engineering of his body, it was this guy. He didn’t mind being a lab rat anymore. After a while it was just a normal day for him. He’d been through so many surgeries, amputations, and augmentations without his consent that when someone wanted to actually help him, it almost didn’t matter how.

The first few appointments had gone well enough. Tony was getting a sense for how Raiden’s body was put together and what made it tick, as well as a sense of what was wrong with it. And that was a long list, indeed. All Raiden could do was sigh as the man seemed to get frustrated with the inefficient performance and haphazard construction of his body, and he actually was surprised to hear that Raiden had been able to do as much with it as he had. And... that he’d survived this long with it. It was going to take a lot of tweaking, replacement parts, and trial and error to help improve his current body and then... well Raiden wasn’t going to hold Tony to this, but he’d said he wanted to build him an entirely new one. A better one. For free. Raiden... didn’t really get why. He wasn’t anyone or anything special.

Today’s appointment was supposed to investigate the almost constant overheating of his body, even when at rest. Throughout the day, his core temperature would spike, resulting in Raiden not feeling very well due to the synthetic white blood being heated too much and certain part of his metal body expanding beyond their durability limits. He’d notice a few hairline cracks in some of his parts, and that was just what he could see. And then there was the way his jaw sometimes malfunctions and chattered of its own accord. Not only was that embarrassing, but Raiden was afraid that his bottom metal teeth would hit so hard on his upper human teeth that he might lose a few of them. Raiden had so little of his human body left, and he was trying to hold on to the scraps of it as hard as he could.

However, when he arrived at the Avengers compound - a strange experience in and of itself - Tony was nowhere to be found. No one seemed to know where he was, assuming he was about somewhere. Raiden knew where the laboratory was, so he made his way there, but when he got there, he saw only a young person, absorbed in their work.

“Um... excuse me?” Raiden asked rather shyly, hoping he wouldn’t scare them since they seemed so focused. “Uh... hi. Sorry to interrupt, but... I’m supposed to meet with Tony Stark. Do you know where he might be?”

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group C Round 3: #C5 vs #C6

#C5: A bunch of teenagers are forced to share pain

#C6: Sports anime for people who prefer bildungsromans to sports

Details and poll under the cut!

#C5: Kiznaiver

Summary:

Katsuhira Agata is a quiet and reserved teenage boy whose sense of pain has all but vanished. His friend, Chidori Takashiro, can only faintly remember the days before Katsuhira had undergone this profound change. Now, his muffled and complacent demeanor make Katsuhira a constant target for bullies, who exploit him for egregious sums of money. But their fists only just manage to make him blink, as even emotions are far from his grasp.

However, one day Katsuhira, Chidori, and four other teenagers are abducted and forced to join the Kizuna System as official "Kiznaivers." Those taking part are connected through pain: if one member is injured, the others will feel an equal amount of agony. These individuals must become the lab rats and scapegoats of an incomplete system designed with world peace in mind. With their fates literally intertwined, the Kiznaivers must expose their true selves to each other, or risk failing much more than just the Kizuna System.

Propaganda:

Kiznaiver is an extremely underrated work of Studio Trigger’s and is definitely one of their bests. Not just for the animation, but for the impactful story as well. The characters just feel so real, and this show just makes you think about human connection and how much we might care for each other if we shared our pain. Although it can get a little confusing at the end, the sheer raw emotion is what makes up for everything. Every single one of the characters gets developed in ways that made me smile like an idiot.

Very good but severely underrated anime! Would recommend! :)

Trigger Warnings: Emotional Abuse, Fatphobia, Disordered Eating, Implied Sexual Assault (maybe).

The fact that Yuuta is formerly fat is constantly mocked throughout the series, which leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth as a fat person watching the show personally. Yuuta, to maintain his thinness, engages in disordered eating by simply eating a small cube of food every day. Said character is also the subject of an attempted sexual assault by a female character, but I don’t remember correctly if that actually happened or if I just got triggered by the way the scene was portrayed.

#C6: Ping Pong the Animation

Summary:

Despite being polar opposites, Makoto "Smile" Tsukimoto and Yutaka "Peco" Hoshino have been best friends since childhood. Although the overly confident Peco strives to be the best ping-pong player in the world, he often skips practice, earning the ire of his fellow teammates on the Katase High School ping-pong team. Meanwhile, Smile—in spite of his innate talent for the sport—cannot help but hold back his full strength when playing against others. Through their mutual love for ping-pong, the two have developed a bond that is seemingly unbreakable.

When Peco hears that an ex-national team player from China is coming to Japan, he drags Smile over to rival Tsujido High School to observe them. The subsequent trip leads to a clash between Peco and Kong Wenge, who overwhelmingly defeats the former in one game. Stunned by such a comprehensive loss, Peco finds himself questioning why he plays to begin with. Seeing his potential as a player, Katase's coach begins to train Smile to overcome his hesitation, but he is reluctant to play if it is not for enjoyment.

As the two struggle to find meaning in the sport, a plethora of stronger players—each with their own internal strifes—await them at the inter-high tournament, where only the very best can persevere. But when these young athletes let their unbridled ambition go unchecked, the hardships they face paint a somber reality as they pursue glory.

Propaganda:

An experimental director (Masaaki Yuasa) adapting a work from a very stylized and emotionally-focused shonen mangaka (Taiyo Matsumoto). This is an anime that feels more like watching an indie arthouse movie than a shonen anime. Featuring characters and arcs that subvert standard anime tropes, it gives an incisive picture into youths on the verge of growing up and learning responsibility. If you want to watch a short anime (one 11-episode season!) which will include cool sports action (and that’s coming from someone who is not generally into sports animes) the matches given weight by the primary use of them in narrative being as checkpoint in the characters’ growths.

I tend to prefer shojo over shonen for being more introspective, with the emotional arcs developed slower and more subtly, but for me this shonen hits a sweet middle ground of having that more internal feel, while getting to do the shonen things of having cooler, action-focused animation and character relationships which are about friendship rather than romance, and character arcs that are about trying to strive hard to achieve a dream. The show is quite well critically regarded, but a lot of anime fans get turned off by the unusual art style, and there isn’t really a fandom for it, so I think it counts as underrated anyways! Anyways, I think it delivers a really impactful and complete story-arc in a short time, and it leaves you feeling like you’ve grown alongside the characters, no matter how old you are (no seriously, my 50-year-old mother walked away saying she didn’t know anime was such a profound genre when I made her watch this).

Trigger Warnings: None.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part One

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: I’ve written a decent portion of this but know I won’t keep writing it or post it unless I hold myself accountable and get it out there in the first place 🙈 I haven’t written much for Marvel yet but I’ve read plenty and have written for other fandoms in the past (not to mention the writing degree on my wall lol). I’ll try to post every 2-3 days to keep this moving! And if you like it and want to, buy me a coffee!

No one knew Tony Stark had a daughter. No one but Tony Stark and his daughter. Well, and her step-mom Pepper. And her godfather Rhodey. And her uncle-not-uncle Happy. But no one in their everyday lives knew. She was given her mother’s maiden name and kept a secret, even when she turned 17 and moved to a small apartment near NYU’s campus (with Happy stationed right next door, of course) to start life as a truly normal adult, or as close to normal as an undercover Stark could be. When she graduated with her PhDs in robotics and electrical engineering at 25 — proving brains really do run in the family — she moved into her own apartment in Manhattan, funded by her father under the pseudonym “Michael Myers.” Subtlety was never his strong suit.

Fortunately for you, growing up without the Stark name let you live a relatively normal life. It also allowed you to apply for a position within Stark Industries without being ushered past any red tape because of who your father is. Outside of the financial advantage you had, you worked for your spot in a STEM career. You suffered through every man in your field belittling your work despite knowing less than you. You dealt with the constant interruptions and “well, actually” because of your gender. You powered through late nights and early mornings when your mind was flowing too smoothly to quit.

The last thing you wanted to do was have all that work disregarded because you shared a name with genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark. So you filled out the application, sent in your resume and cover letter, and attached three letters of recommendation from your professors. You went through hours of interviews, background checks (conveniently redacting your father’s name), and polygraph tests until that offer letter showed up in your email. You even had to sign the Non-Disclosure Agreements that would bar you from discussing *anything* work-related with anyone outside of your department.

You spent your first year in the weapons analysis department, evaluating alien weaponry and determining how it worked and how to disable it. You had your fair share of mishaps, of course. Holes blasted into walls, fried robot dummies, even burnt animal carcasses. By the end of your first year, your supervisor sent a commendation and proposal for you for an undisclosed promotion. After Pepper Potts “thoroughly examined your resume, cover letter, and accomplishments during your tenure with Stark Industries,” as the letter read, you were awarded a position working on the Avengers’ weapons as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist. You’d never see a fight in-person, but you were assigned to work on advancements and post-battle repairs for everyone, from the Winter Soldier’s arm to the Falcon’s wings to Vision’s... everything. The only heroes you wouldn’t work on were Iron Man and War Machine (those were your dad’s territory) and Spider-Man.

On your first day in your new position, the one and only Pepper Potts showed you to your new lab on the 47th floor. It took all your willpower to look your step-mother in the eye and say, “Wow, Miss Potts. This is amazing. It’s such an honor to meet you,” with a straight face to convince any passerby that you had no outside affiliation with her. Even if her eyes stayed steady on you, you could see her mentally rolling them.

Once you were alone behind the doors of the elevator, conversation changed course.

“You’re going to be sharing a lab with someone else,” Pepper said.

“Sweet. As long as they’re competent, that’s fine by me,” you shrugged. Part of earning your degrees was learning to share a workspace with others, even those who bumbled and fumbled with no idea what they were doing. You’d had more hair singed by nearby explosions than you’d like to admit.

“He’s still in college so he’s not here as often as the others. Most of his work will be on Spider-Man’s gadgets and suit, but you can use him for any help you need.”

Walking past the familiar faces of Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho in their respective labs, Pepper ushered you into your lab, where you were met by your father and put on the same excited facade you did with Pepper.

“Oh my god, you’re Tony Stark! This is incredible! It’s such an honor to meet you, sir!”

He shook his head at you and reluctantly accepted your outstretched hand. Oh, the jokes you’d be making at family dinners.

“Yeah, anyway, this is your new lab, Miss [Y/L/N]. Make yourself at home. This lab rat over here is mister Parker. If you have any questions, he can at least bullshit an answer for you.”

The young man on the other side of the lab perked up at the sound of his name. He tugged the goggles off his face and set down his soldering rod to rush over to you.

“Hi. Hi, I’m Peter,” he said, reaching his hand out to you.

“I’m [Y/N]. It’s nice to meet you, lab partner.”

He looked to be a bit younger than you and at least relatively smart, if the MIT sweatshirt peeking out from under his lab coat said anything. If your dad gave him an internship like this, you knew you shouldn’t question it. He had to be a genius.

The kid just smiled at you, continuing to shake your hand past what most would deem socially acceptable.

“Okay, enough of that,” Tony said, pushing on your joined hands to separate you two. “Mister Parker might be in and out of the lab from time to time. He joins the Avengers on the occasional recon mission for immediate repairs but since he’s on break from classes, you’ll see him more often than not. Play nice.”

When he noticed you surreptitiously looking Peter up and down, he added, “Remember, no fraternizing with coworkers.” He pointed a finger directly at you before he spun and pointed to your fellow lab mate, realizing he should warn Peter too to save face.

“All the blueprints you need for the Tin Man’s arm are in the system. We’ll have you start on that and see what you can do about minimizing the sound that thing makes. Any other questions, give Pep a call.”

“Thank you, mister Stark. I really do appreciate everything,” you said genuinely.

“Yeah, well… don’t let me down,” he replied, patting you on the shoulder on his way out. Pepper followed close behind, leaving you alone with Peter Parker.

“So Peter,” you started, sliding onto the lab chair next to where he remained standing, “tell me about yourself.”

“Uh… what do you want to know?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“How old are you?” you asked immediately.

“I’m 21.”

Only four years younger than you. So you’d probably get along just fine.

“I assume you’re at MIT?” He nodded. “What are you studying?”

“Biomolecular and mechanical engineering.” He said it so casually, you’d think he was talking about the last song he heard on the radio.

“Damn,” you responded, eyes wide. “I thought robotics and electrical engineering was wild but fuck, that sounds like hell.”

He laughed and nodded, letting a bit of the tension in his shoulders fall. “Yeah, it’s not easy. But it’s worth it.”

He shot you a small smile before gesturing back at his project. “I should probably get back to work and let you get started.”

For the rest of the day, you familiarized yourself with the Winter Soldier’s arm to figure out how to… turn the volume down? You assumed it was the gears inside causing the noise, but part of you wanted to outfit an audio jack and speaker just to fuck with your dad.

You and Peter worked in relative silence, aside from the playlist he had quietly playing through the lab sound system. When lunch rolled around, however, you finally spoke up.

“Hey Peter,” you called, his eyes flicking from the chemical beakers in front of him up to you. “First of all, what are you doing?”

“Um, it’s Spider-Man’s web fluid. Just trying to find more durable combinations.”

“Interesting.” As much as you wanted to touch the stringy substance, you knew better than to fiddle with someone else’s lab work. “Okay so second thing, in my last position, I’d just order food and have it brought to my floor but now that I’m on an exclusive floor, what do you do for lunch?”

“Oh, there are a couple security guys who have clearance to come into this floor. They just can’t get into any rooms so you’d have to meet them at the elevator. But I usually find something in the kitchen down the hall.”

“Oh, sweet. Thanks!” you said as you made your way out the door. Before you could fully exit, you turned back to see if Peter wanted you to grab anything. Once he promised he’d take his own break ‘once I get this one thing figured out,’ you continued to make your way to the kitchen.

As you drew closer to the doorway, you could hear three voices speaking over each other. They didn’t sound angry, but they were definitely arguing. You opened the door anyway and almost immediately froze in your tracks. The Falcon stood with one hand on his own head and one on the Winter Soldier’s head while Captain America rolled his eyes before those same eyes landed on you, along with the rest of the room.

“Perfect,” Sam started. “Hey new girl, between the three of us,” he said, pointing to himself, the Soldier, and the Captain, “who has the best hair?”

“First of all, my name is [Y/N]. Second,” you continued, making your way past them to the fridge you hoped your dad kept stocked with goodies, “that’s an unfair question.”

You grabbed a soda and popped it open before turning back to the three men. “Your hair suits each of you. Cap wouldn’t look good with Winter Soldier hair and Falcon wouldn’t look good with Cap’s hair.” You took a few steps closer, leaning against the island counter between you and eyeing each of them. Your eyes settled on the Winter Soldier, unashamedly flitting across his face and admiring the sharpness of his features. “You,” pointing at him, “could probably pull off either of their looks, though.”

Bucky smirked at you, but his rosy cheeks gave away a hint of embarrassment at your compliment. Steve and Sam, on the other hand, weren’t taking it quite as gracefully.

“What?!” Sam shouted. “Okay, now I know you’re lying. I could pull off Cap’s hair for sure.”

“You know, I think shaggy hair would really suit me,” Cap said, only half sarcastically.

You giggled to yourself as the three of them started talking over each other again, all dead set on their own hair being the best of them and positive they could pull off the others’ looks. While they bickered, you searched the pantry until you found a snack to at least get you through the remainder of the day.

“Alright boys, it’s been fun but I have work to do,” you said as you walked past them again. “Actually, wait. Bucky — can I call you Bucky?” He nodded even though you continued anyway. “If you could stop by lab six today, I’d love to check out your arm in person. The digital renderings aren’t quite the same.”

“Uh, okay. Sure. I’ll find you,” he said quietly.

“Sweet, thanks!” And with that, you skedaddled back to your lab.