#automaton sun

[sugarhog05]

Trying to work out my new Moons personality + backstory. I still have no idea what type of world he’s in but… it’s not a good one lol. Moon threatens to gut people a lot… I wonder why that is?

I also made a weird automaton Sun and Moon? Idk I wasn’t sure where I was goin with em just trying somthin out. They’re kinda goofy lookin but whatever xd

He’s totally dead btw lmao

(Or is he??? 👀👀👀)

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Missing the Them💕

[bilolli]

Heyyyyyy @betweenblackberrybranches did you know that I like your automatons designs a lot?

Scans under the cut

[naffeclipse]

I'm honored to reveal that I'm @darthsuki's secret Santa for the DCASS2023 event! When I saw that Howl's Moving Castle was one of the movies you love, I was immediately possessed by this AU for the DCA! I had so much fun crafting this fic along with Eclipse, Sun, and Moon reimagined in such a setting, and, of course, the reader! There is so much fluff and romance; I hope that's alright! Please enjoy!

Eclipse's Moving Daycare

Eclipse & Sun & Moon x Reader (SFW)

You can also read this fic on AO3!

Word Count: ~5,500 Warnings: N/A

-

In the heart of the castle-like structure, smoothly crawling over the snowy mountain peak with bending, robotic appendages that sink claws into the fresh, cold powder, is a room alight by a fire demon. The creaking and grumbling of the house have long since faded into a familiar drone in the background of your senses. A few candles burn and flicker, dripping hot, white wax. The main source of light, in the late hour on a blistering cold night, emits from Sun in golden radiance.

You stand over the fireplace. It holds a small cauldron upon its embers. Water bubbles and pops with gentle wisps of steam rising, rising up into the chimney. Behind you, the great light of the room begins to shift, shadows leaning away from the approaching presence.

“What is my darling brewing tonight?” The fire demon saunters close behind you. Sun’s voice brushes against your ear, flickering with life so powerful, it only leaves ash in its wake. The heat sinks into your back—a soothing reprise from the chill circling the moving daycare. “Could I be of assistance to your crafting?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind, Sunny,” you say softly. 

You turn around to face him, almost squinting your eyes against his brilliance. The fire demon flickers with flames, set soft and low in a gentle yellow light. The energy burns over a body of deep, dark charcoal and embers. Red pulses in between the burnt aspects. His head, large and flat like a disk, flickers with a great grin. The very pale center of his eyes holds a blue tint not unlike the very tips of great flames. A crown of red fire circles his face, and you marvel how he has never once burned you—part of his magic, of course. He decides when and who shall be scorched.

“Oh, you haven’t answered me yet.” He looms over you, the fey-being easily entering your space in the way smoke fills the air. “Is it a special potion? Perhaps a liquid that would set itself on fire should someone sing a sour note? Or a drink for trees that allow them to become ready fuel, set to torch the mountainside for a bit of warmth on this dreary winter day?”

You smile. When does he not suggest you concoct some sort of fiery potion? You certainly don’t recall. The fire demon is what he is.

“Neither,” you answer and strip a thorny branch of herb, dried and well preserved, of its flat fronds. You turn away to toss them into the cauldron. “It’s soup.”

The light of the room dims in the briefest moment before flaring with fresh vigor. Dancing heat becomes almost sweltering at your back before a hot hand slips around your waist, wrapping you up in a cozy embrace. Your eyes flutter when Sun’s mouth presses to your shoulder, sharp teeth grazing your skin exposed by the stretched neckline of your tunic.

“We’ll save the pyromania for later, but soup! Yes, that would warm you and Moon and Eclipse.”

“And you.” You hold up the thin dry branch, as he likes it, to the fire demon’s mouth. “I’ll make it for all of us.”

“Oh, I don’t do well with soup. Too watery for my taste,” he says mournfully. 

You watch a lick of flame wrap around the branch and pull it into his mouth, leaving your hand empty. His jaw bumps slightly against your shoulder as he chews, fire splitting and cracking the fuel over his tongue. He swallows and the light grows brighter around you. For a moment, you swear you understand what a candle wick feels like sitting in all that great light. He holds you tighter.

“I will make it so you can consume it, too,” you say, and pat his arm as it hugs your waist. The flames flatten underneath your palm, whipping and flaring at your presence, but never biting. A bit of soot smears across your hand. “Now let me get the rest of the ingredients. You’re holding me captive, love!”

He laughs with the boisterous gale of a bonfire. “How else am I supposed to keep you safe on a freezing night such as this!” 

“I’m plenty safe with you here, and I’m in need of soup.” You turn your head to catch his twin flame eyes. 

When he lets you go, he does so with a smoking sigh as if you intend to leave the moving daycare rather than simply his embrace. You keep your smile to yourself at his theatrics. He remains before the cauldron as you search a few cupboards, gathering several spices, herbs, and a few bits to toss into the soup. You turn to the kitchen counter, the wood rich brown and well worn with your work.

In a few moments, the great cold of the night has taken hold and your shoulders shiver. Setting the glass jars down, you breathe in a rattling breath. It’s getting worse outside. Over the quiet motions of the building shuffling along is the great howl of wind.

You must hurry with the soup. Eclipse will be home soon.

Taking a few ingredients, you turn back around only to be greeted with a fire in your face. Sun grins, the blue in his eyes dancing brightly. You almost drop the spices in your startle.

“Poor thing, you’re shivering! Allow me to warm you up.” The fire demon coos impishly before taking you by the hand. His warmth laces between your fingers. Your other arm is crooked, cradling the glass jars as Sun lays his hand on your waist, and in the fashion of a waltz, spins you the short distance back to the cauldron. 

You gasp, pressed tight to his body with little but spice containers between your heart and the deep red pulsing in the fire demon’s chest. The small clinks of glass echo like notes to the movement of the song Sun carries you along to with his swift steps. His crown of flames waver in excitement, snapping and flickering. He sets you down for a moment. 

“Oh, you’re already so pink!” He touches your cheek with hot fingertips before slipping away the spices with a small flick of his hand, magically tugging the jars from your grasp and setting them on the edge of the fireplace. You sputter, head spinning in his fiery whirlwind. “There! Aren’t you toasty?”

“Sun!” you laugh. You lay your hands on his chest as he gathers you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. His heat seeps deep into your body, chasing away the awful chill. “I am making us soup! Let me go, you fiery fiend!”

“Ah, but how can I? You’ve bewitched me.” He twists you around—much to your amusement and surprise, dipping you low as you cling to his shoulders. “My darling, I simply can’t let you grow cold for even a breath.”

You melt like mountaintop snow in spring, his pale, lovely gaze burning with intent so promising. You become warm—not of body, but of soul. Slowly, softly, you find his mouth hungrily reaching. You answer with a soft, chaste press of your lips upon his fire, closing your eyes. The light glows through your thin eyelids, sparking blue at the edges in the center of deep, passionate gold. He has never burned you. He never will.

The light increases until it becomes as bright as noon in summer—as bright as his name.

He brings you back to your feet in a careful rise though his hands have yet to unlock from your waist. The distant boiling of the cauldron sends you back to your senses before you lift your head. You gaze adoringly at the fire demon, tasting cedar-turned-ash on your tongue. Reaching with one hand, you run a few fingers through the brightness of his head flames, now tinged with blue at the very tips. 

Oh, he’s satisfied.

 “I am making soup, and you can’t seduce me away,” you say firmly, before pecking his fiery mouth once more. His teeth almost catch your bottom lip but you manage to slip away.

“But I’m already starving!” He half cries, placing one arm across his forehead in a swoon-worthy of the theater. “If you leave, I will vanish into smoke and soot!”

You reach up into a cupboard dusted with black powder and snatch up one lump of coal, small enough to eat in one bite, and turn around. You promptly set it into Sun’s mouth. His wail is muffled by the press of your fingertips until he begins chewing with a rather disgruntled look. The blue in his eyes pales slightly.

“I’m glad to see you have an appetite.” You smile. “Save the rest for soup.”

The heat lingering in your fingers is warm and tingly. You quickly snatch up a small wicker basket from the counter. The yellow light of the fire demon follows at your back as you make your way across the large living space, the cold quickly returning. Then, you enter a long hallway.

“Stay here,” you call over your shoulder, “I need to fetch a few things from Moon’s room and he doesn’t like you in there.”

A protest around a mouthful follows but you’ve already knocked and quietly opened the door, the room thick with darkness, before shutting it behind you. The fire demon is left in the heat of the living space.

You stand in Moon’s room. The clotting blackness hangs like a mist around your shoulders. You squint into the dark collection of shelves and small comforts, such as loveseats and chaise lounges and of course, several beds shoved up against the wall. You’re not certain if he sleeps in any one of the furnishings—if he sleeps at all.

“Moon?” you call out softly.

The nightly shade shifts in the slightest. Tendrils of shadow creep around you, waving like the petals of a flower before you feel a hand slip over your hip from behind and another hook under your jaw to take your chin.

“Hello, jewel,” he rasps low in your ear. A cool but pleasant shudder falls down your spine.

“Hello, scarecrow.” You allow him to tug you around to face his shadowy visage, his hand caressing your cheek as you gaze up at the fey-being. “Might I get into the food storage? I need beef and potatoes along with a few other vegetables.

His eyes, round as moons and pale red, drink you in. Underneath the brim of an old, sun-bleach straw hat that he stole from a scarecrow, the shadow demon tilts his head to an unnatural degree. A curve of silver light flashes across half of his face, like a coin winking under midnight light. 

“Of course.” His body stretches slightly, thin and elongated, like darkness at sunset. A few inky colors of red flare out around his neck and waist, the cold energy wavering about him, before his hands hook into your hips. You gasp once when he effortlessly lifts you off your feet and carries you to a chaise lounge dyed a deep ocean blue. 

Your eyes slowly adjust to the stark dimness when he sets you down. He kneels to sweep your ankles up and lay your legs across the couch.

“Moon, I need to get a few things,” you remind gently.

“I’m aware.” He, in a blink of darkness, has your basket in his hand where it swings slightly from side to side. His smile flashes with teeth reflecting a bony color. “Stay here.”

“If you insist,” you give with a chuckle. You lean back until you’re reclined on the cushy backrest, feeling much too elegant for someone who still has potion stains on their apron. “It’s dark now. You can come out. Sun is in the living space with me, helping me cook.”

“ Helping ,” the shadow demon echoes incredulously.

You snicker.

“Yes, he is, and I need your help as well.”

Moon slips into the darker corner that your weak human eyes can’t decipher. Soft rummaging echoes. The storage space is under a hatch in this room, and seeing as it was already so dark behind, Eclipse allows Moon to claim it as his own—provided that Moon allows you access to whatever ingredients you require when you are in need. 

You can’t think about Sun’s room without wincing at the amount of ash, gold relics, half-burnt walls, and little fires no doubt still running rampant in there. Eclipse placed a clever spell to keep it from spreading to the rest of the rooms and daycare.

The darkness moves as if ripples in water. You try to peer at a few dolls nestled onto a top shelf above one of the beds, their visage adorned with bows and curls but the strange distortion carries across the room. They must be for when there are children in the daycare again. Moon does love to give gifts to the little ones.

Then, a quiet sound of a wicker basket touching the floor. You jump before registering the slow blink of pale red eyes before you. At the end of the chaise lounge, Moon begins to creep forward. One hand follows the other, sliding along your legs and up your hips before one grabs onto the top of the backrest and the other reaches for your face. He hovers above you like a vulture in the sky.

The shadow demon brushes his thumb over your lips. The cool caress causes you to shiver but not from the cold.

You stay motionless. He hums a low sound; the beginning of a lullaby. He lays a soft touch of a cool knuckle over your cheek.

“Did you get what I ask?” you murmur, distracted by how he strokes the shell of your ear with soothing motions.

“Yes,” he grumbles. You’re glad he can see much better in the dark than you.

“Thank you.” You grin up at him. “Help me make soup, won’t you?”

You slide out from under his shadow. Back onto your feet, you hook the handle of the basket, now heavy with ingredients. You straighten only to find Moon’s sharp teeth curved into a wicked smile before you. In a split second, he pecks your mouth with a rush of midnight cool air and syrup-sweet darkness. You blink.

“You’re welcome.”

You stop him before his form can melt into the darkness. Snatching his wrist as he attempts to slip between your fingers, you step closer. The shadow demon makes a low sound of surprise. You grin as you press forward on your tippy toes into the darkness to find what you hope is his mouth—it often disappears in his face when he’s not actively showing his teeth. You kiss a smooth, satin-soft cheek.

“There, a proper kiss,” you murmur, falling back onto the fall of your feet.

A low, husky breath disagrees. Shadowy coils slip over your arms and your waist, creeping higher and higher until one hangs around your throat like an onyx necklace. The familiar and comforting weight of his embrace encircles you completely. 

“No,” the entire darkness seems to whisper in Moon’s rasp, “Let me show you a proper kiss.”

A dark finger tilts your chin up. You find his eyes as ghostly as red moons hanging above you, bathing you in unholy light. Moon hums softly. He lowers his mouth, teeth sharp but yearning, onto yours.

Cool and gentle, the shadow demon tastes your mouth. He presses to your lips in a silent declaration of fondness so sweet, it stains your tongue. His shadowy tendrils softly tightens around you in a tender crush of affection. A little nibble along your bottom lip teases his dangerous jaws, but you only gasp softly, pleased.

He releases you, unwinding from around you to slip behind your back. You, in a near daze, press towards the door and push it open. A soft hiss at the candlelight aggravates Moon for a moment before he adjusts and slithers into the living space. You catch your breath. Sun stands before the cauldron, feeding it logs but leaving it scorched with marks in the shape of his hands.

“Oh, Moon!” Sun turns around with a sharp clap of his hands. Moon hisses when his golden flames spread their light, eating away at the heavy pools of shadow at Moon’s feet. “You have been held up in that dreary room all day! Some company will do your shadows some good.”

“Ease your light,” Moon growls then slinks to a corner near the dark window overlooking the mountain peak. Pale red eyes glare before Sun inclines his head with a mischievous glint, but draws down his flames to a deep orange simmer over his charcoal body.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Sun asks with a much gentler tone.

“Yes,” Moon mutters but eases, the coils of shadows at his feet twisting with a relaxed aspect. “Are you going to sit with us while we dine?”

“Sit? I’m going to dine with you—I’m afraid I haven’t been given a choice!” Sun drops against your shoulder—a feat that would otherwise push you to the ground if he wasn’t holding himself back while maintaining the illusion of slumping over you. His hand immediately takes your own and squeezes it. “Our darling potion maker insists the only options are to starve or eat soup!”

“How can you eat soup?” Moon asks in a curious rasp. His straw hat swivels slightly to focus on you. Playfully, you roll your eyes and reach out to take a small stack of bowls from the cupboard.

There’s so little difference between cooking and the science of potion making, you’ve found.

“Are these doubts for my craft I hear?” you question.

Two sharp objections follow one loud and crackling, the other low and gravelly, causing you to laugh and break away from what was supposed to be a stern facade. 

“Good. I won’t hear any more complaints then.” You pat Sun’s cheek though you weren’t certain what part of him you’d end up touching. He’s still hanging onto you with the clinginess of a burr. You fish within the basket to snatch up a paper-wrapped and chilled pound of beef. 

“Sun?” You hold up the meat, “If you don’t mind?”

“It would be my pleasure, darling!” He snatches it up, his flames immediately eating away the paper concealing it. He cradles the meat in his palms. You feel his heat shift, concentrating to a steady and low red crackle in the black coals of his hands.

“Please remember to not burn it.” You turn away to search for a sharp knife in the drawers and withdraw one. Sun’s light sheds much-needed aid over the drawers.

“I would never! Well, maybe a little, to make sure it’s cooked and blackened as it crumbles to ash—”

“Sunny.”

“Yes. Not burnt. As you wish.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The light flares for a moment, brighter and brighter, before calming down for poor Moon’s sake. He hisses once. Sun flashes a cheeky grin.

You smile as you turn around, only to jump slightly when Moon is already standing before you, reaching out to take the knife. His half-silver face, reflecting even sharper in Sun’s light, winks. His pale red eyes stare into your own. You shiver in his presence, caught between a revolving world of hot and cold.

“Potatoes, celery, and carrots, Moon, if you don’t mind,” you ask softly. 

“Of course,” he answers in a murmur and takes the basket away to work on the opposite end of the counter. You study the kitchen for a moment, pleased.

Moon and Sun both hum a low song they both seem to know. A lullaby of fey beings, you suppose.

Now, you’re missing someone.

A soft woosh sounds outside, right on time. You jump slightly when a metal clank follows as if you haven’t heard his arrival a hundred times.

“Please continue what you’re doing,” you say while dusting your hands on your apron. You rush for the stairs. “Eclipse and I will help when we return.”

“I hope the buzzard isn’t freezing to death,” Sun exclaims, “It’s a brutal night in the cold.”

“He shouldn’t have left,” Moon mutters in an ominous but concerned tone.

You don’t stop to answer them both as you take two steps at a time. He was gone all day. Your heart has been wrung like wet laundry before being hung out to dry. The fool—the wonderful fool. 

The howl of the wind grows as you near the outside of the moving daycare. The top of the stairs leads into a long hallway, doors branching off to yours, Eclipse’s, and Sun’s rooms, but you continue forward until you reach the end. There, you push open two frosty glass doors to see who stands on the balcony but Eclipse himself.

The wizard of the moving daycare. The balcony is dusted in snow and the metal gate separating you and him from a severe drop down the mountain face is dark and wrought. You sweep your gaze over him from head to toe and wingtip to wingtip until you’re satisfied. He’s back in one piece.

His wings are intricate mechanisms of bronze and black iron that click softly as gears whirl within the joints and settle at his back. Deep and dark feathers cover the internal workings of the frame, but sometimes, you can catch a metallic glint when he shifts just slightly. A deep red hat, pointy and rumbled, sits upon his disk-like head with bursts of yellow in the fabric. His expression is carved into two—one bright and sunny, the other lunar and dark. His eyes flash, two-toned with yellow and red, upturn in relief. Tall, even taller than Moon and Sun, he bears a willowy aspect in his white shirt and dark trousers. Robotic arms softly click with his movement. 

“Eclipse, you’re back,” you say softly. Your breath mists the cruel wind and fierce cold of the mountaintop. You immediately hug yourself, the thin sleeves of your tunic doing little against the blizzard.

“Hello, dearest. I’m terribly sorry for being away all day.” He opens his arms wide. His wings flutter, clicking and clunking with thick sweeps of dark feathers. The electric glow of his eyes softens. “I missed you.”

You run into his arms. Catching you as if you were falling, Eclipse spins you around once before spreading his wings. His plumage falls over you with a gentle breeze and all at once, the wind howls and the bitter cold dies. It is you and him, again.

“Did you find any children in need?” you ask against his chest. He’s terribly cold but you don’t mind as you rest your cheek on his wind-tugged shirt.

“I did. We should make it to the village in two days.” His fingertips stroke the back of your hair, softly scratching against your scalp in a way that lulls you into forgetting every dangerous and terrible thing that could take your loved ones away.

“That’s wonderful.” You press your smile against the metallic plates of his chest. “I’m so glad you came back safe and sound.”

“As I am. Oh! How’s our family?” he asks.

“Sun has missed playing with the children and Moon has more dolls to give away. They were worried about you. Both are helping me make soup.”

“ Helping ? Oh, I’m afraid to see what they’ve done!”

“All three of you are the same,” you snicker, “believing you can’t help me when that’s what all three of you do!”

“Hm, dearest, I don’t believe you understand.” Eclipse’s feathers ruffle when he leans low to press his forehead against your own—the frigid metal sends a great shiver down your back. His eyes glow as soft as starlight. “You are the one who keeps our heads on our shoulders. Without you, Sun would still be running away from angry villagers, Moon would still be trapped to that scarecrow pole, and I… well, I shouldn’t have to tell you how lost I’d be without you.”

His hand takes your own and gently lays it over his chest. Underneath your palm through the fabric of his shirt, a great thrum of a machine pulsates with timed clicks as quiet as a clock. His bronze and geared heart. You did put it back in his chest.

“Both can be true,” you whisper. You close your eyes. “You and Sun and Moon mean so much to me.”

The alternative is desolate. The vision behind your eyelids is sad and abandoned, a little rundown shack in the middle of dirt and rocks, and you, all alone, believing that’s what you deserved for so long. None of your potions would cure you of this wretched existence. You sunk into the numbness.

Until one day a wizard with wings swept by in his moving daycare, cruel and cursed until you found his bronze heart. Then along his adventures, you discovered a fire demon in need of fuel and comfort from running, and a poor shadow demon cursed to be blistered by the sun in his stationary pose, begging for aid and a kind hand.

You found your family, and you found you deserve their love, too.

“We know.” He draws back slightly. Squeezing your hand tenderly, Eclipse holds your gaze with the softness of a gentle night and the hope of rest. “We might not believe it, but we know.”

Despite the freezing temperatures, your heart melts inside your chest. A deep flush heats your cheeks. You wrap your arm around his waist and duck slightly to hide your face.

“Come in before your joints freeze,” you gently insist. Eclipse allows you to drag him inside before he flicks a metallic finger. The door shuts away the brutal winds and the screaming rush. You, at last, sigh, much more content to linger in the slightly warmer hallway and feel his feathers and arms become less frigid, easing your concern.

“Ah, that is immensely better,” Eclipse hums. 

He shifts, allowing his wings to lift and tuck behind his back. The beautiful feathers catch on the bit of firelight cast up the stairs, no doubt from Sun’s determined will to cook the meat without burning it. Distant chops of a knife against wood echo in rhythmic knocks, sounding of Moon tending to the vegetables.

“Next time, wait until after the storm, won’t you?” You fix his shirt so that it doesn’t fall so low down his chest—not that you don’t mind the intricate design of his bronze and steel frame, but you do intend to feed him a civilized meal. “I had worried I would have to send Moon to fetch you then thaw you out in Sun’s fire.”

“I apologize again, my dearest heart.” He bends low to cup your cheeks in his cold hands. You shiver once, eyelids trembling. In gentle regret, he strokes your cheekbones. “You worry too much, but I do adore how much you think of me.”

You glance away, frowning. Of course, you think of him and Moon and Sun too much for your own sanity, but how could you not? They’ve captivated you wholly. 

He leans closer, drawing your eyes back to his mournful expression. The brim of his deep red hat almost touches your hair.

“Forgive me?” he breathes. 

You slowly reach up to cover his hands, rubbing your thumb over the delicate yet strong design of his metallic wrists. The sleeves of his loose shirt are beginning to warm, too.

“I forgive you, always.” You press under the intimate shade of his wizard hat, and Eclipse stills at your smile. “I missed you, too.”

Before he can answer in relief, you lay your lips upon his face plate, over the grin that mystically shifts about his expression as if he were human and not a machine. A taste of the sweet crispiness of apples and the chilly darkness of twilight slips into your mouth. The large hands that cradle your face softly spasm once. Eclipse then captures you, pulling you deeper against him as the teeth of gears and the tangy metal of his mouth give into your affections entirely. Feathers flap softly, and you are concealed in the eclipse of his wings. 

He allows you to break briefly away to breathe—he once took your kiss for so long that you fainted in his arms (for which he never stopped apologizing)—and the living hum in his body harmonizes with the great pulse in your chest.

“There,” you murmur. You look up into the wizard’s gaze and how much he’s softened in your embrace. “Come downstairs and let’s eat.”

Eclipse taps your bottom lip once before straightening. A black feather slips from his back but you catch it beside his shoulder before it can slip to the ground. You carefully tuck it into your apron pocket. His eyes upturn into crescents.

“Lead the way, dearest.”

You take him down and into the warm, bright living space, cast in comfortable shadows. The scent of cooking meat causes your mouth to salivate. Eclipse’s wings relax when he views the sight. Moon and Sun lift their heads from their tasks and greet Eclipse with gladness and relief. Their family member is back safe.

“Did you find any children?” Moon rasps low but his eyes wink with piqued interest.

“Yes, several. They’ll need our help once the daycare arrives in a village in two day’s time,” Eclipse nods.

Moon and Sun exchange wide looks of excitement. The shadows below the dark demon stir and flicker. In contrast, the fire demon’s body burns brighter.

“Eclipse, won’t you gather my tiger’s chaudron jar?” you ask with a soft squeeze of your hand around his, “Be very careful. It’s temperament and might fizz and overflow if it's upset.”

“He’s helping with the food?” Sun mocks a great gasp of incredulousness. “I was under the impression you wanted to eat tonight!”

“Oh, stop it, you,” you chastise before leaning over the table to press a kiss to his hot cheek. Straightening, you release Eclipse’s hand to stand close behind Moon and slide your hand over his arm to gather a few chunks of potato he’s cut for you. “Thank you, dollface. Here, let me take these to the cauldron.”

“I will do my best,” Eclipse promises in amusement before flitting back upstairs with a soft breeze under his wings.

“Oh, he’s far too cold. I can feel how much heat he’s lacking,” Sun chitters in that rapid-fire concern of his. You silently direct him to add the meat to the cauldron. 

“You’ll sit beside him while we eat, won’t you?” you plead softly. Nabbing a wooden spoon, you begin to stir the contents. Sun wraps an arm around your waist and presses his blissful warmth against your side.

“If he won’t mention anything about me setting his wings on fire—which was once, mind you!”

Moon snickers. You press a hand over your mouth to stop a chuckle. 

“Yes, I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” you nod. “Moon, can you bring the rest of the vegetables?”

He slips behind you silently. When you turn your head to find him, you jump slightly at how little distance is between you and his dark form. Smiling wide, he reaches a hand over your shoulder and plops the remaining carrots and celery in.

“Oh. Thank you.” You quickly catch his chin and plant a kiss against his cool, smoky jawline. Moon becomes still as night. His eyes gleam with quiet delight before he slips his hand under your elbow and begins softly caressing his long, inky fingers along the sensitive underside of your arm while you stir.

A gentle ruffle of feathers glides in behind you. Before you can turn your hand and break away from the two demons, metallic arms slide over your shoulders and gingerly uncap one of your potion jars. A green clump of flowers falls into the cauldron. The concoction briefly throws small emerald flames about the surface—the key ingredient to allow Sun to consume it, as well as providing a slight spice to the dish. It will feed you all.

Eclipse’s hand withdraws only for a moment before reappearing to gently slide underneath your jaw and trace the bone tenderly. The familiar presence of the wizard with his chin resting on the crown of your head warms you, and you sigh softly. 

Surrounded by fey beings and their great powers, they attach to your presence as if you were a great sorcerer and not a humble potion maker. Their hands warm and cool you. Their bodies softly press against your ribs and spine. They don’t mind sharing.

You have your family, and they have you.

You take out the spoon with one satisfied tap against the rim of the cauldron.

“Soup’s ready, my sweethearts.”

[ideas-on-paper]

The mystery of P's skin

If there's one thing the entire Lies of P community can agree upon, it's probably that Pinocchio looks very, very handsome. Many people - including me - were enamored by his looks from the moment they first saw him in the trailers, by his soft locks, sweet freckles and big blue eyes.

However, even early on, I couldn't help but feel like there was something... odd about his features - more specifically, his skin. For a puppet whose outer shell usually consists of porcelain, wood, or some other artificial material, it looked almost too realistic.

Of course, it could just be very realistic looking faux skin (which, given Lies of P's 19th-century technology, would be kind of impressive), but after some careful observations, I get the feeling there actually might be more to it. And given some of the things I learned in my research about real-life automata, there might be a grisly, sinister secret behind P's innocent face.

[Massive spoilers for Lies of P]

[CW: skinning, violence to children]

The Lies of P character cards

The first time I noticed there was something strange about P's skin was when I was looking at the character cards Neowiz released back in 2022, as promotional material for Gamescom.

These cards feature high-resolution renders of the main characters, showing a lot of structural details of clothing, hair, and skin.

As for P's render, it looks like this:

One thing that confused me from the start was just how perfectly normal his skin looks. Most of the other puppets have porcelain skin, which creates a very distinct reflection when light falls onto it, as we can see with Polendina:

For P, however, we see no such effect, implying that his outer shell is not made of porcelain. Also, seeing how he occasionally squints his eyes on the character screen and how his skin squishes and stretches as a result, I think it most definitely consists of something else - because if I know one thing, it's that porcelain does not physically behave that way.

Instead, a lot of people (particularly fanfic writers) have come up with the headcanon that P has really realistic-looking faux skin. However, if that were the case, I would find it really puzzling just how many small impurities there are on his face. You would probably expect synthetically manufactured skin to look very smooth and clean, but in case of P, if you pay close attention, you can spot tiny irregularities giving the impression of skin pores, and even a bump above his left eye.

In comparison, P's skin actually looks surprisingly similar to that of the human characters from the game. For reference, here are the portraits of Sophia, Venigni and Eugénie:

See what I mean? There is virtually no distinction between the structure of P's skin and that of the human characters (to be fair, Eugénie's even looks a lot cleaner). Adding to this, these close-ups of P's face during the ending cutscene make it apparent that these small blemishes certainly, most definitely are skin pores.

Considering all of this, I've come up with a somewhat eccentric theory - that P's skin is neither made from porcelain nor some other kind of faux material, but real, actual skin.

Automata with animal skin and Vaucanson's "Flute Player"

Some of you may wonder: "But P is a puppet! How could he possibly have real, human skin?"

Well... this is where the disturbing part begins.

First off, we have to take a quick dive into the history of automata, the real-life clockwork machines providing the basis of Lies of P's lore. Originally, clockwork mechanisms took up an enormous amount of space, being used for huge clock towers in cities and large-scale moving sculptures. Over the centuries, the mechanical components became smaller, enabling clockmakers and artisans to produce more intricate crafts, including miniature reproductions of people and animals.

Clocks and music boxes featuring birds with real feathers were extremely popular, but there were also other automata coated with real animal skin: As early as the 17th century, we have a drumming bear with actual bear fur (located in the Mathematisch-Physikalischer Salon, Dresden) and a pair of lion table clocks (located in Skokloster Castle, Sweden) coated in the hide of lambs. From the 19th century, we know of a toy mouse by Gustave Vichy as well as a toy rabbit by Nicolas Théroude, both covered in real animal fur. In addition, there were various 19th-century dolls with leather bodies, and the company Jérôme Thibouville-Lamy even produced a miniature ensemble of monkey musicians with heads covered in soft leather, which could move their lips to show their teeth.

However, we don't have any accounts that skin was used for human automata - except for one extraordinary case from the 18th century.

In 1738, the French inventor Jacques de Vaucanson presented an automaton called "The Flute Player". It was the size of a real-life human, and in contrast to all other automata of the time, it didn't use some kind of sound box to produce its music, but actual air flow. The inner mechanism consisted of a system of nine bellows, divided into sets of three, which were each controlled by a weight to regulate air pressure. Each set was attached to a pipe, three in total, which all joined up into a single one, similar to a trachea. This singular pipe continued up the throat, widening at the top to form the mouth cavity where the air flowed out. To correctly play the flute, the automaton was equipped with lips which could not only open and close, but also move back and forward to cover the holes. To better control the air flow and create pauses between notes, the automaton even possessed a movable, silver tongue.

Despite this virtually perfect imitation of the action of flute playing, Vaucanson had to realize that the automaton's metal fingers weren't pliable enough to cover the holes of the instrument correctly - so, for the automaton to be able to execute its task, Vaucanson had to glove the hands in real, actual skin.

It's speculated it was human skin, although I couldn't find any source decisively confirming this. Either way, despite Vaucanson being a quite controversial figure among his contemporaries, he was a fascinating personality: He was one of the first to construct automata that were not meant to serve as mere toys, but which could do labor, being credited with the invention of what we today would call household androids back in 1727(!), and chances are he was neurodivergent as well (coming from my own observations as a neurodivergent person).

However, as much as I'd love to write an entire essay about Vaucanson right now, let's get back to our actual topic.

The procedure

To put it bluntly, what I think actually happened is this:

Geppetto took the skin of a dead boy, treated it in some way so it wouldn't rot, and then draped the skin over a wooden puppet frame.

I think from a moral standpoint, Geppetto would definitely be able to do this - however, it would require him to have a good deal of experience with human anatomy. As someone who builds humanoid puppets, I think he would at least have a theoretical understanding of it, but still, he's an engineer, not a doctor.

There is, however, one group with excellent medical knowledge who certainly wouldn't shy away from dissecting a human being: the Alchemists. Although Geppetto's dislike of the Alchemists is well known, he himself admitted that "in desperate times, I broke my own rule" after the disaster at the Grand Exhibition, and I assume Carlo's resurrection would be more than good a reason for that as well. Basically, my suspicion is that Geppetto had help from the Alchemists - maybe even from Simon Manus himself. If this was the case, I imagine Simon probably demanded some kind of favor in return - perhaps Geppetto and Simon struck a deal, with the Alchemists giving Geppetto free rein to execute his little experiment with the Puppet Frenzy, while he agreed not to interfere with their own. This would support the Mad Donkey's statement that Geppetto and the Alchemists were "scheming together". (Also, if they were actually working together, I think things already started with the Nameless Puppet, Geppetto's first attempt at resurrecting Carlo. In the cutscene before the fight against the Nameless Puppet, we can see that Geppetto's left hand has been fitted with implants, having the same bluish complexion that is typical of people who have been "enhanced" by the Alchemists.) However, I don't think Geppetto ever really trusted the Alchemists, so he probably planned to betray them at some point - at the same time, I think Simon knew Geppetto was deceiving him (reading thoughts is such an op skill), so he didn't fully rely on him either.

Regardless whether Geppetto had assistance or not, completely skinning a human without damaging the skin requires an immense amount of care. Looking at P's skin (or at least what we can see of it), there are no visible seams anywhere, which would mean Geppetto did his best to keep it intact, probably including the hair as well. (As we all know, P's hair looks very soft and natural, and you can't see any outlines where it was glued on; therefore, I believe it was left rooted in the skin.) Nevertheless, if you want to skin a body, you have to make a cut somewhere. One possible option would be the hole in P's chest (where the P-Organ is inserted), as there would later be an opening anyway; also, given that the Legion Arm would later replace the left one, there would naturally have to be a cut at the left upper arm. However, both of these openings would most likely be too small to completely remove the skin. Due to this, my suspicion is that Geppetto made a third, larger cut down P's back. It would be big enough to take the complete skin off, and it would also be convenient if P had something like a cam storage in his back, similar to the Jaquet-Droz automata. (This has been a headcanon of mine for a long time, since these cam discs act as an analogue storage for a clockwork automaton's movements, which are engraved into the edge. Given that P's combat moves are quite complex, he'd need a lot of space for those; btw, my theory is that the amulets from the game are actually interchangeable cams, because they have "information and memories that are useful for movement" imprinted on them.) I would assume both the openings at the front and at the back are usually covered with skin, with a small seam being visible where the original cut was. Whenever Geppetto needs to do maintenance, the skin would be peeled back to give him free access.

As for the rest of the process, I suppose it would be kind of similar to taxidermy. As it happens, the Victorian era (which is around the same time period the game is set in) was actually the golden age of taxidermy, when mounted animals started to become more lifelike - there was even a trend among pet owners to let their deceased pets be stuffed, as a way to "resurrect" them. (Just why do I always manage to stumble upon the most cursed parallels?) Once the skin had been taken off, any remains of fat and muscle tissue would be removed, after which it would be either tanned or treated with preserving chemicals. Following this, the skin would be mounted on a mannequin, in P's case probably a standard puppet frame made from wood and metal. Of course, you need to take precise measurements of the original body beforehand, and since this is about his darling son, I imagine Geppetto would put extra care into the modeling. At the end, all you'd have to do is add glass eyes - and well, there you have it: a perfect, biomechanical imitation of a human being.

However, we do know there were some unexpected changes in P, even physical ones like his hair growing. Presuming that he indeed does have real skin, I wonder if this may be due to the Ergo "recognizing" the organic material in some way, causing these lifelike reactions. I could imagine a puppet with human skin is quite unprecedented, so this would likely be a first time occurrence - in that case, it might potentially give a whole new meaning to Sophia's statement that P is a "special puppet". (I could go into even more detail regarding my theories about Ergo and P's transformation into "another kind of human" here, but frankly, I think this topic deserves its own post.)

I think P is far from Geppetto's first attempt, however: We do know from the description of the Nameless Puppet's Ergo that the Nameless Puppet (which presumably is a Frankenstein version of Carlo) was the first to be equipped with a P-Organ, but after it turned out to be unstable, it was left abandoned and locked away. In that sense, I imagine Romeo was something like a "field test" - I don't think turning Romeo into a puppet was something Geppetto planned from the start, but when he came and asked him, he presented Geppetto with too good of an opportunity to pass up. When the transferring of Romeo into his puppet body, all memories and personality intact, turned out to be a success, Geppetto decided to take the next step with P. I assume he designed multiple versions of P until he was satisfied, which might mean that the broken puppet in the swamp (which also seems to possess a P-Organ and isn't bound to the Grand Covenant) is actually one of P's predecessors.

Still, as interesting and disturbing all of these speculations are, there is one question that remains: If P really does possess real human skin, who was the original owner of it?

The origin of P's skin

The first, most logical assumption would probably be that Geppetto used the skin of Carlo. Back in 2022, when everyone hypothesized Geppetto had a son but no one could confirm it, I also assumed he took the skin of his deceased son.

Now that we know the game's story though, we have a bit more information. First off, it's heavily implied that the Nameless Puppet is actually a Frankenstein version of Carlo, which would mean that the weird organic-looking parts - specifically the upper body, right arm and face - originally belonged to Carlo's body.

Given that they have the appearance of decaying tissue, it seems like Geppetto did his best to save as much of Carlo's body at first, but ultimately was unsuccessful in bringing him back to life. Considering this, it seems quite unlikely that Geppetto would remove the skin from his son's body if he intended to preserve it. Also, you can actually see a nipple on the right side of the chest, which probably wouldn't be there if the skin was taken off.

There's another thing that doesn't quite fit into this: When looking at Carlo's portrait in the game, he looks strikingly similar to P at the first glance (so much, in fact, that I was afraid my wild fan theory might turn out to be true after all). However, upon closer inspection, one can make out a few subtle differences in Carlo's and P's appearances: Carlo lacks P's trademark freckles, and instead of Carlo's doe-brown eyes, P possesses light blue ones.

Granted, Carlo could've gotten the freckles later during his life, and the blue eyes might be due to the Ergo's influence (which I also assume to be the reason for Sophia's blue colored hair). However, when Carlo gets revived during the Real Boy ending, the differences are still there, as his outward appearance is not identical to P's:

If the Arm of God has the ability to restore things to their original state (which is how I interpreted it), that would mean Carlo looked different from P at the point of his death, meaning that P's skin can't be Carlo's.

Of course, if Geppetto did use human skin for P, but not Carlo's, that would make things quite complicated, as it would be extremely difficult to find someone who looks almost exactly like Carlo. Nevertheless, there's one fan theory I'd still like to talk about: Someone on Reddit actually proposed that Carlo might have had a twin brother once, whose soul got transferred into the lamp by Sophia.

I actually had a similar theory about Gemini before the game came out, although I never shared it publicly because I couldn't find any support for it other than Gemini's name and his death in the original book. Basically, the gist of it was that Gemini is the soul of Geppetto's dead son, which got separated from its body and somehow encased in the lamp.

Although this assumption is definitely outdated since we now know that Carlo is Geppetto's son, we do have many left-over questions about Gemini. (Some character development for Gemini is actually one of the things at the top of my wish list for the DLC; as far as characters go, I felt like Gemini was the game's single weak point, and I wish they would've utilized him more.) In fact, it almost seems like there was originally going to be an amnesia subplot for Gemini, judging by some of his comments. For example, we've got the remark about the fairy tale book at the Hotel, but despite remembering there was a person who particularly adored it, Gemini can't recall who it was. Then, we have this very interesting comment down at the Relic of Trismegistus where Gemini remembers that "someone was dragged away from here", but again can't tell precisely who.

Unfortunately, the game never builds upon these comments, and they're pretty much left standing as they are. In fact, I can't help the impression that this might be part of a cut storyline - even Sophia says that Gemini is "unique" and "more than just a guide", and Gemini himself states that he's a friend of Sophia's, and that she "woke him up the last time she was there" - although, once again, he doesn't remember the exact circumstances.

Now, I've noticed that "P is Carlo's twin brother" AUs are quite popular in the fandom, but I'd like to mention there's nothing from the game that hints at Carlo having a twin brother (at least, to my knowledge). Still, it is quite an interesting theory - if the assumption that it was Carlo who particularly loved the fairy tale about the wooden puppet is true (based on Geppetto's comment during the fight with the Nameless Puppet that he should've taken more time to read him from his "favorite book"), it would explain why Gemini, his former twin brother, knows about it. However, if it really was Sophia who transferred Gemini's soul into the lamp, it prompts the question of the exact circumstances of his death. Given that Geppetto was willing to murder an entire city just for Carlo's revival, I wouldn't put it past him to sacrifice his other, perhaps not-so-favorite son for his endeavor - perhaps that's why P looks very similar, but not identical to Carlo.

Still, it's probably best if you take all of this with a grain of salt, as even compared to my original theory that P might have human skin, it's pretty exotic at best. Also, given that Gemini is directly mentioned in a memory scene that presumably takes place at the Monad Charity House makes this even more questionable. At least, I think it's highly unlikely that Gemini is Carlo's twin brother if he accompanied the mysterious Stalker - on the other hand, it seems a bit strange that Gemini would know about Carlo's favorite book if they only knew each other what appears to be such a short amount of time, especially when their relationship didn't start on good terms. Again, nothing is for certain, as we don't see Gemini physically appear in the memory scene - the only thing that seems to be confirmed is that Gemini also was a human once (at least I can't imagine what a cricket lamp��is supposed to do against two unruly school boys).

Other possible alternatives

So, let's say Geppetto didn't actually use human skin for Pinocchio (which, to be honest, would be a relief) - why would he decide to make P look slightly different from Carlo?

One reason I can think of is that he designed P as a kind of "idealized" version of Carlo - judging by his comment before the final battle, Geppetto seems to have been discontent with Carlo's "mischievous" behavior, so maybe he used that opportunity to make him the "picture-perfect son" he always wanted.

Then again, given how rarely Geppetto saw him, I wonder if he even knew what Carlo looked like at the point of his graduation. When he retrieved his dead body, perhaps Carlo's face was disfigured beyond recognition, and all Geppetto had to work with were some old pictures/photos and his own memory.

If that was the case, it would make sense that P's outer appearance slightly differs from Carlo. Still, Geppetto was confident his plan would work out, that the resemblance would be enough to trigger Carlo's memories - but for whatever reason, it didn't, be that because of physical discrepancies or because Carlo was already gone.

Conclusion

In the end, no matter what Geppetto did, the fact remains that it was an insult - not only to Carlo, but also to P.

From the moment he first opened his eyes, P was forced to live in another person's skin (perhaps even literally), with no other choice being offered to him. His entire existence is essentially a lie, being expected to fill the role of someone he just isn't. Moreover, in trying to revive Carlo, what Geppetto actually did was soiling his memory - the mere notion that a living person can be replaced is beyond disrespectful, and to let innocents die in pursuit of this madness is an atrocity I have no words for. Even if Geppetto did all of this out of regret for having neglected Carlo and not spending more time with him, let me spell out one thing Nick Carraway already said in The Great Gatsby: You can't repeat the past.

However, what was given to you at birth is not everything you have to be, and what others expect from you is not what you have to become. In my own way, I love Pinocchio very dearly, but that love extends far beyond pretty looks. I relate to his struggle, and I would do anything to aid him in becoming his own person. Whatever choice he makes for himself, I will support it, and no matter if human or puppet, I'm going to love him just the way he is.

Resources:

Anette Beyer's "Faszinierende Welt der Automaten - Uhren, Puppen, Spielereien" ("Fascinating world of automata - clocks, dolls, playthings")

About Jacques de Vaucanson

On clockwork automata in general

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Since Eclipse is back how would things go out in Automaton Heart Au?

I could see Eclipse pretending to be Solar but imagine this. Moon and Solar are dating but didn't tell anyone yet even though it's very obvious. Not to Eclipse though, he just knows they understand each other well.. And wants to take that as an advantage to get into Moon's room as he pretends to be Solar, Moon pulls him aside to talk to him and give him a peck. Eclipse is in total shock while Solar comes back only to see his "clone" and Moon is confused.

Hahahahah

I find that prospect so amusing, because in Automaton Heart AU, Eclipse IS alive.

He's been hiding under Sun's bed.

Yup This whole time.

(slightly related IZ gif cus I couldn't find the specific one I wanted)

And yeah, Sun knows he's there. He just hasn't told Moon exactly about it yet. They have an arrangement.

I guess I'll say some juicy details while being tumblr-appropriate. XD

Sun's room we know exists in the show, as it's been mentioned a few times, but it's never shown. (likely cus they can't think of anything in VR that makes logical sense)

So we know Sun's room is the only place that doesn't have any cameras.

In Automaton Heart AU.

Eclipse didn't die.

He believed to by Solar, and Moon because the blast that destroyed the star in his chest cavity. That would have destroyed nearly anyone.

But it knocked parts of him back. A majority of him was destroyed, but a torso, a hand, and a head/faceplate (with the rays/spikes blown off) managed to lodge deep into the ball pit.

When Moon traveled back to his own dimension, away from Solar's (After Solar yelled at him and punched Moon for not letting him sacrifice himself) Eclipse got teleported back to the main dimension along with Moon.

Waiting at the bottom of the Ballpit.

He wasn't biding his "evil time" or whatever.

He was completely knocked out and his systems failed. He was dead for all intents and purposes.

A few Days later, as Sun is disinfecting the Ball pit, he nearly trips over something.

Sun and Moon never noticed him, because they openly admit on the show to have their Olfactory sensors off, because they're working with Stinky Kids all the time. So they didn't even notice the smells of burnt metal deep within the ballpit, despite parent complaints because they just thought it was "Karen's being Karens" or them having issues with Fazbear or something.

Sun disturbing the charred broken frame of Eclipse (back to SolarFlare's body, because the Eclipse Body was entirely on star power. Just without the head spikes, a torso, and a pretty mangled hand with half his fingers missing) The machine whirrs to life.

Something that Sun is terrified of and didn't think would be physically possible.

Eclipse is motivated simply by anger and spite. As if he was his own ghost in the machine possessing his very being. He is 100% motivated by spite, as he is in all aspects of his life. He has nothing left to give. And he crawls toward Sun, weak, barely able to keep his head above the pit.

He wants to hurt them. He wants to kill them. They did this to them. It's all their fault. It's always been their fault hasn't it?

Eclipse lacks his proper monologuing skills. His voice box is charred. He can't speak but garbled sounds. His mind is too fractured to think properly. All he wants is to cause harm.

He collapses, his damaged claws tearing the edge of Sun's slipper.

And Sun doesn't know what to do.

He could just... Kill him again, but Eclipse is like this now. Sun doesn't even know how the fuck he survived any of that.

He could just kick him into the pit and have the Computer send him to another dimension...

But that doesn't sound right to Sun either.

He could tell Moon, but Moon would just like... find a gun and shoot him point blank at this point. Like putting down an injured animal.

That also doesn't sit right with Sun.

(Sun's Bloodmoon hallucinations/intrusive thoughts are going rampant as he tries to make a discission.)

Sun decides he'll figure out what to do with Eclipse later, and locks him in his room, away from the cameras and away from Moon.

He will tell Moon....

Eventually.

Sun and Eclipse reach a mutually beneficial agreement from this... as Sun agrees to fix Eclipse and give him a new body, as long as Eclipse plans to not hurt his family anymore.

Eclipse hated this, but he "agreed" his logic being that, since he can't make a verbal agreement, he can double cross Sun and kill them all once he's fixed.

But, it takes a long time for Sun to repair him and get parts.

It would go faster with Moon, since Moon has the more logical mind....

But Sun doesn't exactly want to tell his brother yet, as Moon is distracted with Solar, and he seems happy for the first time in a long while. He doesn't want to ruin that by saying "oh you didn't kill Eclipse by the way"

Also, Eclipse Also agrees that he doesn't want help from Moon.

Cue Slowburn in the background of Sun, tenderly taking care of Eclipse. And warming Eclipse on the idea of second chances.

Cue Eclipse not understanding why Sun is bothering with a lost cause of him at this point...

The two actually listening to eachother and enjoying eachother's company.

They don't talk about the past.... not yet.

Eclipse certainly can't...

but he is forced to listen, he can't move... and have someone genuinely caring and looking out for him....

and then they kiss.....

[stellamancer]

in celebration of the nier series' 15th anniversary here is five really good songs from the series ost (please go listen to the game's osts because they are so fucking good)

[dcawritings]

Unfortunate: My wife, a player in a long-running Pathfinder 2e campaign that I run, immediately clocked when I was in the middle of trying to design a DCA-inspired NPC and demanded, nay, begged for me not to go through with it. I love my wife and alas, he will be unused

Fortunate: I now have a DCA oc/ttrpg AU and I'm going to figure out how I can make things about him. His name is Celest (short for Celestial) and he's an Automaton Oracle who specializes in astrological magics and somehow has two (or more) souls stuck inside his automaton core. He's a couple hundred years old (in terms of being in his current form/life) and tends to keep to himself and away from major cities.

[thedenofravenpuff]

Having some fun on the Old Western AU server, where OC's are getting assigned tarot cards just for fun.

So I had to draw my OC's as their assigned cards! Just for fun. And man is it rather fun to do, I usually don't do too detailed stuff to try not strain myself too much. But couldn't resist with some of these, and very happy how they turned out.

So do enjoy!

The Roan RPG Project ScreeCon Server on Discord Leave a Tip on Ko-Fi

[5c077w4ll3r]

the robot horse, power, focus and energy without emotion, strength, the sun

[wyervan]

********* dca yuletide au *********

y/n knows little about Sun and Moon prior to meeting them apart from what they’ve learned from growing up with local legends.

text from character sheets and close-ups below the cut

KRAMPUS MOON

According to legend, he steals away naughty children… in actuality, Moon takes away children who are starving, abused or otherwise in-need and spirits them away to Sun’s workshop.

Gruff billy goat-man, hundreds of years old.

Calls humans “kids” regardless of age.

Hates warms weather—hibernates during the summertime.

Lives in a very homey cave connected to a network of natural hotspring pools.

Smells like musk and pine.

Made the basket and all his clothes himself.

Likes to go ice-fishing.

SANTA SUN

Overseer of a grand wonderland workshop of toys and marvels populated by hundreds of “elves”… who are actually immortal children who have chosen to stay after being brought to the magical place by Moon.

Bronze clockwork automaton created hundreds of years ago.

A bit out or touch with humans—especially adults—but loves making and giving toys to children.

An accomplished blacksmith and metalworker.

[lunarmoves]

you've been watching them for a while now.

automatons aren't new, by any means. you've seen them roaming around in the villages and towns beyond the treeline of the forest for years—decades, even. what they do, you're unsure, but you figure they aren't much different than the humans living their own lives day after day.

they walk like people, they talk like people, and they laugh like people, so you suppose they are people. strange and complex as they are.

this is the first time you've seen them in the forest, though.

nestled high above, between the branches of an oak tree, you peer down at the earth to watch two mechs picking their way past overgrown shrubs and tangled bramble. they're curious things, designed in such a way where their vivid colors stick out amongst all the verdant flora. your gaze lingers on the sharp rays framing the head of one of the mechs, before it trails to the starry nightcap adorning the other.

in a way, they remind you of the sun and moon. your gaze flicks upwards at the sliver of the daytime sky you can see through the tree's canopy. curious indeed.

they are dressed for travel, like all the other humans that have previously ventured forth into the forest. and you suppose they are after the same things as well. you've kept an eye on them throughout their journey deeper into the forest—keeping your distance, yes, but you have been growing bored enough to creep closer and closer with each passing day.

they amuse you, the automatons. with their connective designs to the universe and their gentle bickering you can hear from time to time. they have not stopped to rest for long, nor do they eat or sleep. a difference, you muse, from regular humans. it is so intriguing.

they are looking for the forest's treasures, that much is certain. and like all the others who have searched before them, you have no doubt that they will fail at their task.

but that doesn't mean you can't have your own fun.

the one with the sun rays has been scrutinizing an old map in his metal hands for the last few hours, turning it this way and that as he peers critically up at his surroundings. the leaf-ladened trees are painted in sunlight in a way reminiscent of a liquid gold coating. flowers and blossoms litter the dirt-covered ground like nature's version of a loose carpet. branches extend their scrawny fingers to tug at the mechs' clothes.

he huffs as he stops walking and seems to glare at a particularly thick tree covered in wisteria. "this is the third time we've passed this tree."

the other one chuckles as he comes to a halt next to his companion and peers up at his irritated face. "how can you tell? they all look the same."

"i can tell because i marked this tree!" the yellow mech says shrilly as he points to a spot where he'd peeled off a bit of bark on the trunk earlier. "you watched me do so, moon!"

"that could've been missing beforehand," moon replies in amusement. and when his companion only gives him a dry look, he relents. "alright fine. what do you want me to say, sun? that we're lost?"

sun and moon, you file away in your head in delight while you shift forward on your branch. your smile steadily widens. how concise and so very fitting.

"well no, but some help would be greatly appreciated!" sun says in exasperation as he throws his hands up. he points a finger at moon. "you've been letting me do all the mapping and navigating. i haven't seen you do anything other than look around and mimic the birds!"

and to your absolute pleasure, moon cocks his head at sun and does precisely what he has been doing for the last hour: he releases a sound similar to the call of a pheasant, short and musical. you are unsure how he is able to do so, but it is nothing short of hilarious.

sun gives moon a withering look. all it does is make moon break out into soft laughter.

sun sighs and it is a long, weary thing. "at this rate we won't ever be able to return to the castle. here, you try navigating." he thrusts the old map towards moon, who takes it easily. "if i have to look at that thing for one more second, i'll short circuit myself."

moon snorts and peers down at the map to hum at it. they are both standing just in front of the tree you're camped in. you look down to see if you can catch a glimpse of this map of theirs and have to hold back your own chuckle when you see how inaccurate it is. that certainly isn't helping—your own meddling aside.

moon hums. he turns the map left, then right, then completely flips it upside down. he nods to himself.

"yep, that settles it," he muses to himself.

sun tilts his head, crowding over his companion's shoulder to look down at the map as well. interestingly, one of his rays shrinks down to avoid poking moon's face. "settles what? did you figure something out?"

"yes. we're lost," moon announces, then crumples up the map to stick it into his pocket. you hold back a snort.

sun groans and runs his hands down his flat face. "why did i have to get stuck on this task with you."

when all moon does is cackle in response, you finally decide it is an appropriate time for you to make an appearance.

quietly, you make your way to a branch just in front of them, above their heads, and allow your body to swing backwards to hang upside down before their faces. "hi!"

abruptly, sun shrieks and leaps back. you grin as you watch him take on a defensive pose, his hand lingering at the satchel hanging from his shoulder. you have yet to see him open it. your gaze darts over to moon to see he has not moved an inch. instead, he stares at you with these ruby eyes that you are unable to decipher. but you can feel the way they analyze your form intently.

(earlier, as you followed them via tree, you could've sworn you saw moon glancing up occasionally at the canopies like he could sense your presence through them. maybe even see you.

but that was impossible, you dismissed. no one ever could.

he was just bird watching, you figured out later as you watched him follow the paths of the birds flitting over his head. that had to be it.)

you make a mental note to keep an eye on moon.

"you guys look mighty lost," you say cheerfully, your legs flexing a little where they're hooked around the branch. "want some help?"

you're looking at moon as you ask, but it's sun who responds.

"no, thank you," he says stiffly. he straightens, though he still keeps his hand near his satchel. there is wariness lining his body and the white glow of his eyes, that much is apparent. not that you blame him, really.

"aww, don't be like that." you lift your hands up to cross them behind your head; the picturesque form of nonchalant. "i don't bite, promise! no one knows the forest better than i do!"

"we know better than to trust random humans we encounter. particularly out here," sun replies cooly.

you giggle. "i'm not a human, silly. i'm a spirit of the forest. look!"

and with a small wave of a hand pointed at sun, you will tiny blossoms to start sprouting from his clothes—littering them like he'd just had a basket of flowers thrown at him.

sun jumps slightly as he looks down at himself and seems taken aback at the little buds. his gaze flits back up to you, though he is still just as cautious as before. "a forest spirit is just as untrustworthy as a human. there's a reason why this is called the forest of disappearances, after all."

you cock your head. "is that what they're calling it?" you hum thoughtfully. "i have not heard of this. surely you mean another forest?"

sun scoffs and brushes the flowers off of him. they flutter sadly to the ground. "i am quite certain it is this one."

"then why have you come here?" you ask curiously. flipping yourself off the branch, you land nimbly on your bare feet and straighten up with your hands clasped behind your back. you had not noticed it before, what with you sticking to the trees and all, but these automatons are rather tall. "it would be better to avoid a forest with so-called disappearances, no?"

"that is none of your concern," sun harrumphs and crosses his arms. for all the wariness he's regarding you with, he sure is willing to continue the conversation.

your gaze flicks briefly over to moon. he is still quietly watching you.

you look back at sun. "i am being genuine in my offer to help you, you know. don't you know forest spirits are kindred beings? it goes against our very nature to misguide."

"yes, well—" sun starts, but you do not give him the chance to continue.

"besides," you interrupt as you slowly start to circle the two. this close, you are now able to properly look them over—picking out all the minute details that make them real. "i have not encountered people like you before."

sun looks stunned, momentarily, though the expression quickly disappears. "people? no, you are mistaken. we are robots."

you tilt your head at him. they are both spinning around steadily to keep you in their line of sight. it allows you to take in the way they hold themselves—the rigidity of their limbs. "you act like people. therefore you are."

sun's mouth opens like he is about to refute you. but he stops when moon says his name in a low, warning tone. your eyes flick back and forth between them as you note each and every reaction. curious, curious. you decide to drop the topic.

"well, in any case," you continue lightly, "allow me to help you with your task. i insist."

"persistent, aren't you?" sun snaps out, then makes a motion like he is taking in a deep breath of air. "no. no, we are quite fine, thank you," he says shortly as he turns with finality to start walking off in a different direction. "come on, moon."

as moon slouches after sun, you deliberate stopping them, or making it apparent that you are following them instead of sticking to the trees. but ultimately you decide to let them go. for now.

"be careful!" you call after them, waving a little when the two glance back at you for a moment. "there are far worst things in this forest than a simple spirit such as i."

they do not bother you with a response. your smile is all teeth as you watch their backs retreating into the distance, your hand lowering so you can clasp your fingers firmly together.

oh this will be fun indeed.

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Have a late valentines gift from the automaton au guys♡ they love you

(I love you too)

[chimkin-samich]

Wild West AU my beloved!

In order:

their first interaction (cause as we all know, she doesn't spare a glance to them on their actual first meeting)

Moon and The Lioness hiding while Sun baits their targets-

A little banter in the Saloon with some of The Lioness' old acquaintances , specialized in technology and quite flabbergasted to see such advanced automatons "in the hands of a criminal"

+ a little bonus under the cut

Did you know that apparently Mary Jane was much cheaper and used as a substitute for tobacco often in the wild west? I didn't either but I read that fact a few days ago and I couldn't stop thinking about it-

[fatuismooches]

POMEGRANTE TEA FOR DOTER?? - 🐓

pomegranate tea; at what point did they know they loved their s/o?

Dottore knew he loved you once he realized he was happy to return to you.

Despite being a student of the Akademiya, what awaited Zandik when he returned to his dorm wasn’t the noise of a roommate, the running of water from the bathroom, or the scent of a cheap meal from the kitchen. What greeted him was the way he left it, empty and devoid of any life.

Such was the life of an outcast. The scholar was not destined for warm welcomes or any sort of companionship. Even as a child, he returned to a house that filled his younger self with dread.

Oh, but he didn’t necessarily dislike the current circumstances. Really, it was a better option than having to deal with someone who would get in his way. The silence was something he didn’t mind as well. After all, it would be irritating to have to deal with someone else's bustling.

And so, returning to his room was naturally a part of his routine, one Zandik did almost every day. The same thing over and over… it couldn’t be said to be something that really brought him joy. He’d much rather be out in the rainforests or deserts of Sumeru. He supposed the happiest part of it was having a private space to do his own thing, but really, it was a drag to come back. If only attendance weren’t a portion of his grade…

But his feelings on this simple routine began to change once he met you.

Of course, in the beginning, annoyance quickly set in (as anyone would expect) as his peace was rudely disturbed by your presence. You had literally been thrown into his routine against his will, but oddly enough, his glares and scowls didn’t deter you, much unlike any of his (very few) previous roommates. You were an enigma. The scholar was sure there was something wrong with you, but seeing how persistent you were, he had no choice but to settle into this new routine with you.

Zandik didn’t even realize it, but at that point, the process of returning to his dorm had already been injected with some life, thanks to you. And to put a very, very, very long, slow-burn story short, the student became not just accustomed to you, but rather deeply attached to you. 

However, despite noticing the change in his behavior, he always put it aside instead of tackling it. It was certainly odd - one would think that someone as analytic as himself would quickly pinpoint the cause and effect. But perhaps somewhere deep inside, he knew that if he confronted it, something unsettling would happen. Perhaps he just wanted to bask in his new life a little while longer.

Regardless, in this particular moment, Zandik found himself working on a freshly defeated Ruin Guard in a lesser-known corner of the forest. Courtesy of you, of course, always perfectly disarming the machines with minimal damage, so it could be his new plaything. Speaking of you, Zandik was disappointed you weren’t here with him. Much to his dismay, you had other plans already. Despite the excitement he had from tinkering with the Automaton, it was oh so silent now. Usually, he had you yapping or at least doing something next to him.

But he soon noticed that the sun was going to set soon, which meant that his work would soon halt. With a sigh, Zandik estimated the amount of time he had left. Truthfully, he could get some more work done before the light disappeared, but…

Zandik wanted to return to his dorm already.

Before he could be tempted otherwise, he had already begun packing his stuff up. As of late, although Zandik continued to be enthralled by his outdoor expeditions, he also found that he didn’t mind going back to his room as much anymore. In fact, it could be said that he even looked forward to it - but he let the discoveries of today float around his mind instead anything nonsensical. 

When the scholar unlocked the door, he was greeted to your surprised expression, along with your body comfy on his bed, with his blankets and pillows, all with your own bed unwrinkled and unoccupied.

“Huh. You’re back early, Zandik,” you observed while glancing at the time. “I thought you’d be back later, so I didn’t start making anything yet.” You hopped off the bed with a stretch as you approached him.

“So, how productive were you? You got to tell me everything!” You flashed him a pretty smile as you helped slip off his bags. “Oh, but now that you’re here, you should tell me what you wanna eat. You know, I was thinking of getting some food from that place from last time…” You pressed your fingers to your face in thought. “But if not, just tell me. You’re probably too tired to eat anything heavy, right? Just tell me and I’ll whip something up for ya!” You just went on while positively beaming. You literally were, seeing as Sumeru’s golden sunlight spilled into the room and decorated your glowing smile.

Zandik opened his mouth but paused in face of your beauty and a sudden realization.

It wasn’t his room he wanted to return to. No, the dorm wasn’t what gave him a sense of comfort, of security. 

It was you who did all of that. You were why he wanted to return so quickly. He subconsciously craved your presence, your everything - despite his thirst for knowledge, he found himself coming back to you anyway.

Zandik wanted to return to you. You pleased him. You made him feel good. You made him… happy.

It was a childish, simple word. A professor would probably tell him to use a stronger synonym. But it was the truth. You made him happy. You made him… love you, both a painful and sweet sentiment.

The realization made him lose his quick witted tongue for a few moments and now you were looking at him in concern.

“Don’t tell me you knocked your head out there or something,” you half-joked as you playfully poked him, but your touch coupled with his feelings made Zandik feel like he’d been shocked. He quickly devised a way out of the situation.

“Fine, let’s go then,” he said the words so fast that you weren’t sure what he meant before he was already out the door again and walking down the hallway.

“Wh- Hey! Wait up, I need to get the Mora ready!” He could hear the fumbling of drawers and coins but the burning of his face didn’t stop until you finally caught up with him and scolded him for leaving you behind.

After he realized, Zandik began to contemplate how to get you to be the one who was stuck by his side instead of him pathetically clinging to you. For you to be the one looking for him and longing to be by his side instead. Unfortunately, his tongue could not weave convincing tricks like his older self now could. But it didn’t matter, because you saw through his poorly designed scheme and granted him what he wanted anyway - being glued by his side even if he grumbled about it.

Still, despite your actions, the almighty Harbinger has his habits and finds himself returning to you anyway.

At the end of the day, Dottore returns to you with stained hands. Those hands have committed grave sins against other people and even the Gods. When he embraces you, he holds you so that you’ll never leave him. 

You always have to be here. Do you understand how he feels, knowing that if things go wrong, he can always return to you? Between the jumble of his segments’ arguing, the constant letters from co-workers on his desk, and the stagnation of progress of his work, you’re always the constant. It’s almost pitiful, someone like him having a lifeline, but he doesn’t let go of it.

Despite Dottore’s unwavering trust in you, sometimes he wonders if you’ll stop being the sole person he can return to. He knows you’ll never do that, but on certain days, his mind wanders to the possibility.

But you’re always there, patiently waiting for him.

So, even during the times Zandik’s self-hatred seems to swallow him, when he returns to you and lays his head on the crook of your neck, he can’t help but feel content.

[hazymoonlinh]

hey when your feeling up to and feeling better I have a request idea for mydei since we all love him, the trailblazer and dan heng came with the reader who's a female revolutionary leader who the astral express crew met and befriended and is sometimes accompanied by them. I was thinking that during the time they first arrived at amphoreus when the group got separated she protected some of the kremnos children and they end up taking a liking to her and follow her around like ducklings and she gets along with the other kremnos that are in okhema and mydei is witness to all of this

sorry if it's long I like to make sure my requests are detailed hehe

Was going through a lot rn, but I hope you enjoy this.

⸻

Amphoreus – Edge of Okhema

He hadn’t meant to linger.

After all, there was work to be done—strangers to monitor, remnants of the trial to secure, reports to deliver. But Mydei stood unmoving, arms crossed at the overlook, his crimson-amber eyes fixed on her like the sun had risen in the wrong part of the sky.

She walked below with children clinging to her like vines. Little Kremnos boys and girls, covered in dust, some crying, others laughing, all following her in that uneven, chaotic way only children could. They’d followed her ever since she shielded them during the sudden attack—tiny feet chasing the sound of her voice, the shape of her kindness.

She wasn’t one of theirs. Not a native. Not a Kremnos. And yet—

They called to her. Reached for her hand. Rested against her legs like she was home.

Mydei had seen her fight.

He had seen the fire in her eyes when she spoke of rebellion, of dreams greater than herself. He had watched her tear down an automaton twice her size with nothing but a blade and fury.

But this was different.

This was quiet.

This was gentleness without performance, without strategy. No war songs, no flags. Just her, kneeling to wipe tears from a child’s face. Just her, letting tiny hands tug her coat, letting dirt-streaked kids sit in her lap without hesitation.

And they loved her.

His chest ached.

He didn’t understand why.

Mydei had been worshipped before. Feared. Saluted. People bowed when he passed. But no one had ever rested near him like that. No one had ever run toward him because they felt safe.

He watched as one of the toddlers looked up at her, whispering something in Kremnos dialect. She leaned in, listening, smiling so gently it made his stomach twist.

She glanced up suddenly.

Her gaze found him.

Even from a distance, it struck him. She didn’t wave. Didn’t call out. She just smiled—like she knew he’d been there the whole time. Like she’d expected him to be watching.

He shifted, jaw tightening, unsure what to do with the warmth rising up his throat.

And then one of the children pointed up at him, squinting. Another called something and waved excitedly. The rest followed, small hands flailing in his direction, laughter ringing out.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t.

They liked him.

Fools.

But still… his hands, rough and calloused, dropped slightly from their rigid stance. His fingers curled against his palm.

No one had ever mistaken him for something safe.

She had.

And worse—he wanted to believe it.

…

Later.

She brought them to him like it was a casual stroll. No ceremony, no grand announcement—just a group of dusty, sun-tired children trotting beside her as if she were leading them into something sacred.

He was sitting by then, knee bent, arm resting on it, gaze distant. But the moment he saw her climbing with them in tow, his posture shifted—subtly, but enough. That quiet tension he always carried gave way to something lighter.

“Look who they asked for,” she said with a lopsided grin, gently nudging one of the younger ones forward. “Apparently, I’m the second favorite.”

The children ran to him without hesitation.

“Prince Mydeimos!”

“Did you see me today? I jumped over the rock like you showed us!”

“Will you do the lion pose again?”

“Can I braid your hair?!”

“Again?” he asked dryly, though his hand was already resting atop one of their heads. “The last time you tried that, I couldn’t get the knots out for a week.”

They laughed.

She laughed too—softer, amused. Watching as he let one of the girls drape herself across his arm, another try to mimic the stance he’d taught them, flexing tiny arms with all the seriousness in the world.

And Mydei—he smiled.

Not the slight, rare smirk he gave allies. This was unguarded. Gentle. He beamed, just a little, like he’d forgotten to hide it.

She saw it.

And he saw her seeing it.

For a moment, the teasing from the kids faded into background noise. Just him and her—eyes locked, her warmth suddenly overwhelming in a way the sun never could be.

He looked away, cleared his throat. “You’ve got dust all over your coat,” he muttered.

“I carried two of them uphill,” she said, brushing off her sleeve. “One of them drooled on me.”

“You didn’t complain.”

“I’m used to carrying things heavier than they look,” she replied casually, but the way she looked at him when she said it made the air catch in his throat.

The kids kept pulling at his hands, asking for a sparring pose or to sit on his shoulders, and he obliged them easily. It wasn’t that he liked kids—he loved them. Their honesty. Their rawness. Their way of seeing through things.

But what shook him now wasn’t them.

It was her watching him like he was something rare.

Like he wasn’t just a warrior. Or a revolutionary. Or a titan-blooded force meant to shatter.

Like he could be good.

“You’re not just good with them,” she murmured as she sat beside him, brushing a hand over one of the children’s heads. “You make them feel brave.”

His mouth twitched. “They’re already brave. Just need someone to remind them.”

“You remind me too,” she said, quietly. Not a performance. Just truth.

And that—that—nearly unmade him more than any blade ever could.

The children eventually leaned against him, half-asleep, soothed by his presence like it was something instinctual.

She sat close, shoulder brushing his.

“…Stay,” he said suddenly, low, voice thick with something he wasn’t ready to name.

She didn’t answer right away.

She didn’t need to.

She leaned just a little more into his side.

And Mydei… Mydei closed his eyes.

The lion finally rested.