#verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

in honor of inventing a ship name for cinders x rose, may i present to you some cinderrose fluff? spare eepies for my girls? let them rest? (also bonus, that top image is the canonical height difference between them in the dogstar universe! cinders is 6'4" and rose is 4'10" :3 she's funsized!)

#ouatis #the mechanisms #planet's doodles #once upon a time (in space) #rose red ouatis #rose ouatis #cinders ouatis #verse: dog star in ursa major #cinderrose

[outroshooky]

waiting for the sky to fall | jjk

⇢ genre: series; part one (i-saw-you-on-the-subway-every morning-this-week-and-i’m-possibly-in-love-with-you!au) (fluff)

⇢ pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

⇢ word count: 6.3k

⇢  warnings: brief instance of anxiety; probably too much rambling about how pretty jeongguk is when he exists like that

⇢ a/n: a dearest birthday present for the love of my life and platonic soulmate @guksheart. cait, i cannot believe we have been a part of each other’s lives for over a year now. i adore you so so much and i am so proud of the bold, compassionate, wonderfully gay, fierce yet gentle, considerate, accepting, lovely woman that you are. i would not trade our sisterhood for the world, and i still cannot believe that you are coming to new york in a mere matter of months. i can only hope that we’ll have adventures like this one when you do.

this is heavily inspired by the commute i took to visit my friend in the city over the summer!! kudos to columbia university for loaning me some much-needed inspiration, although i never fell in love with anybody on the way there.

part one of the verses and vibes series. part two will be uploaded on december 20, 2019.

“bright star, would i were stedfast as thou art—   not in lone splendour hung aloft the night   and watching, with eternal lids apart,   like nature’s patient, sleepless eremite,”

⤷ “bright star, would i were stedfast as thou art”; john keats

10:57pm.

Call it 11, it’s close enough.

Eleven o’clock in the evening.

A sacred time, those great appreciators of the universe would say. It is amazing how, as the wind caresses your hair with breezy fingers, there are some who walk the city streets below without pause. Some who cannot understand the sanctity of such a time, the security that comes with the blanket of nightfall— if you could call it nightfall in the heart of such a metropolis.

Below you beats a rhythm akin to the one in your soul, beneath the skin of your merely human chest. A home you’d heard so much about, fallen in love with before you’d even met, and god it couldn’t have felt more right. Over the edge of the balcony is utter chaos: taxi cabs honk an irregular staccato, the open! sign of the ramen shop one block over flickers its own neon melody. People shout, brakes screech, doors bang, dogs bark; to anybody else, it would be utter madness but to you- to you, it is simply home.

The ambient light mutes the glow of so many stars that pinprick the sky millions of miles above, arcing across the heavens in so many celestial designs. If you squint, you can pick out Casseopia, maybe even Ursa Major through the dim haze. The stars are far and few between, but it’s a quick glance to your left and right and you’re surrounded by majestic masterpieces, this time of a manmade design.

When you were younger, you used to muse that skyscrapers not only scraped the bright blue sky so far above, but supported the very cosmos itself with the slight curve in their arching backs. They bore the weight of the world, shouldering the immense task of keeping the stratosphere aloft. For a skyscraper to crumble was for the sky to fall, and yet you’d never seen one even waver in the wind.

Later, of course, you would learn that this was not the case. Earth herself kept the stratosphere in good health, and those wonderfully tall buildings existed as testaments to man’s great ability. However, there was a quiet part of you that still entertained the fantasy (as all of us do, in one way or another). And why not? It's moments like this, where you are surrounded by the dizzying breadth of the world out there and you can taste the sweetness of the universe’s ambrosia, that have you thinking twice about it all. Who says that we can't hold up the sky? Who says we don't spend our lives wondering, even if just a little bit, when the pillars will collapse and the sky itself will cave in one shuddering breath? Who decides when the Sun will burn, the Moon will freeze, when life as we know it tumbles to ash and dust?

“Baby?” His fingers interlock over yours, warm against the cool of the balcony railing. “Everything okay?”

His chest is warm against your back, grounding in its familiarity. You could name the planes and angles of his body like you could name the asterisms that freckle the night sky. He smells like cucumber soap when you turn and nuzzle into his neck, the damp locks of his hair tickling your forehead. You usually tease him when he’s post-shower like this, the bangs that tumble past his cheekbones giving the impression of a shaggy mop, but you spare him tonight. He squeezes over your hand, palm flush against your knuckles as your cheeks heat against his neck. 

“I’m fine,” you murmur. “Just taking a moment.”

Jeongguk tilts his head skyward, but he’s already got the universe in his eyes, wide and fawn. His chest rumbles when he speaks, soft velvet, a little gritty. “It's so beautiful out here.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” you raise your head to reply, brushing your nose to the column of his throat.

He’s got good composure but he's blushing now, between the lateness of the hour and the softness of your skin. He may smell of Dove and there’s a pimple dotting his cheek, but you’re stunning in the light and there’s a faint air of something sweet; if it’s your skin or your soul, he can’t decide. Perhaps both but he can’t help himself; his lips find your forehead and your eyes flutter shut. Contentment so simple, so lovely. 

His arm slides around your shoulders and the way you fit into his side is divine insistence. The other half you never knew you had, and yet at one time, it wasn’t this way. Hard to believe, but that’s the reality of it, and you never even knew he filled a gap in your heart until the deed was done, and there was nothing you could do to unplug the hole.

He kisses your temple and you kiss his shoulder, exposed by the dip of his t-shirt. “Come to bed, baby.”

“But it’s so nice out here,” you whine. 

“It’s late and you have class in the morning,” he coaxes quietly, his accented English gentle in your ears. “Come on.” His fingers slip from your own and you sigh, giving in.

“But you have to carry me inside.”

His eyes roll but he’s already stooping, and when he scoops you into his arms to press a kiss to your nose- he just can’t help himself- you poke his cheek and he grins a smile as warm as the lazy afternoon sun. “I love you.”

“I love you twice that amount.”

Jeongguk takes the balcony in stride, nudges the sliding door open with his foot. “Yeah, well I love you fifty times that amount. Squared.”

He kicks it closed behind him as you raise an eyebrow. “Cheater.”

“I’ll throw you on the bed, swear to god.”

“You’re mean,” You retort. 

“No I’m not.” He turns the light off on his way in, bumps the bedroom door shut with his impossibly slender hip. “I’ll be the big spoon if you take that back.”

Bedsheets under your fingertips. “Fine.”

It is hard to believe that, merely a year ago, you would be coming inside to an empty bed. Merely a year ago, your world would be silent, save the busy hum outside your apartment windows. Merely a year ago, you hadn’t a clue that your world was about to turn upside down, flipped on its axis and spun into chaos in ways you’d never even considered possible. Merely a year, but a lifetime spent sitting, waiting, wishing- twiddling your thumbs, chewing on your fingernails, anxiously hoping for something, anything.

And that’s when, exactly three-hundred and sixty-four days ago, the columns gave out in a rush of dust, the cosmos itself unraveling at the seams of early morning.

 Momentary silence, a stifled yawn. “Come cuddle.”

A sleepy, breathy, near-whisper. “Will you be the big spoon?”

Jeongguk chuckles, breath soft. “Always, baby girl. Always.”

one year before

There’s no better alarm clock than a caramel macchiato, sipped through tired lips and bleary eyes on the chaos of a Monday morning in the subway. You are far from a morning person, as evidenced by the death grip on your Starbucks cup, but you feel just a little more human with the help of four espresso shots and a pump of hazelnut. Having an off-campus apartment means it’s a roughly twenty minute subway ride between home and school, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when there’s not much of a difference between the two.

To be frank, the city is home- a comfort you never expected, the subject of a thousand love letters never to be written but in the deepest cavities of your soul. The grime of the sidewalks, the gritty rumbling of the subways, artful graffiti and corner bubble tea and a little bit of pride, thrumming in the deepest recesses of necessity. The city in which you grew up is merely a square foot to the square acres that are your romping ground now.

The wires of your headphones snake around your scarf, bundled up around your shoulders. It is that wonderful time before fall bleeds over completely into winter, a lingering cool breath, and arguably the best season of all. Thus, you are perfectly comfortable underneath a warm jacket, backpack slung across your shoulder as you swipe your card, pass through the turnstiles and on to the waiting train just across the platform.

The subway car rattles beneath you with a groan, darkness rushing past in so many variants of orange from the neon lights that dotted the tunnels. Around you, bodies press tight on the morning commuter train; in any other circumstance, it would make you anxious, but there’s an odd feeling of security it grants. The train slows, pulling into the next station, and you focus your attention on the page of Madeline Miller’s latest bestseller.

At the next station, the car decompresses as travelers shift, and you are left a moment to breathe before the train will inevitably fill again, two stops from now. Next to you, a purple jacket brushes your shoulder. Just above the top of your book, a pair of black Timberlands pauses before turning towards you and settling. 

There really is no reason at all why these Timberlands would be special. There's no reason at all why your eyes find it necessary to track upwards, no reason why you should have glanced up from your delightful novel for the sake of one commuter’s settling. No reason at all why, as your eyes followed skinny jean-clad thighs to a leather jacket, and further, further.

His caramel-streaked hair brushes his cheekbones, styled in a way you’d typically call bedhead, but on him looks like art. His brow is soft yet defined, much like his jawline, cutting narrow. His lips are perfectly pink, a gentle pout, and his graceful nose a button. His shoulders are broad, the taper of his waist impossibly slender but hidden under the folds of his ridiculously oversized t-shirt. 

And his eyes- his eyes. 

You have poured over literature for hours upon hours, soaking in poetry and epics and novels alike, yet you have never understood what the poets meant until this very moment.

His eyes are the café au lait you sip on sunny afternoons, the sweetness of a chocolate bar, the warmth of a woolen blanket in wintertime. They glint with the light of a thousand stars but shine with the depth of a thousand galaxies, each and every one a testament to the great work of the universe. It is as if he holds the very cosmos in his pupils, and your breath is stolen from your lungs without a second thought. 

He is stunningly beautiful but goes completely unnoticed by everyone else in the car, it seems, as the train picks up speed. There is no greater punishment than tearing your gaze away from him when you realize you've been staring too long to be socially acceptable. You force yourself to return back to your novel but end up reading the same line five times over, too distracted by the shift of his heels, the way he toys with the straps of his rucksack. 

Part of you aches every time the train car fills, obscuring your view of the handsome stranger. Each time, you’re left wondering if he's moved, but each time, the crowds part to find him still seated on the garish plastic bench, glued to his iPhone. Your stop is the next and you can't help but feel anxious about getting up, about turning face and walking out of the train car. Your heart rattles an irregular tempo as you snap your book shut (still on the same page as twenty minutes ago), gather your things, and carefully stand amid the gently rocking car. He doesn't even look up at your sudden movement, and there's a part of you that is somehow irrationally crushed. 

The train grinds to a halt and the doors slide open, and you spare one last longing look before striding across the grimy tile, minding the gap between the train and the platform. Foolish of you to want to stop your day for the sake of an attractive stranger. Foolish of you to think his day would stop, either. 

With a muffled curse behind you, footsteps thud and voices grumble as a mop-haired boy with a rucksack on his shoulder bursts his way out of the train car, having nearly forgotten that this is his stop, too. When something brushes your arm as you jog up the stairs, you nearly drop your Starbucks with the realization that he is unintentionally keeping pace with you across the stairwell, lost behind the curtain of his fawn locks. 

Anxiety melts to curiosity as you weave through the station, matching pace all the while as you’re spit out onto the street from underground and walk the mere half block to your university gates. He hesitates under them, a touch of nerves, but shakes his head and continues on under the tree-covered path of the quad. You lose him somewhere by the Economics building, heading towards the library as you turn towards Hamilton Hall, but the excited thrill in your veins outweighs any and all disappointment.

You're practically glowing during 8am lecture, dancing on air through your lunch break when you think you spot him across the dining hall, but in fact it's just that guy from your math gen-ed. You’d never admit to a stranger consuming your thoughts, but here’s a nagging feeling at the back of your skull as you zip up your bag at the end of your day and head towards the corner station. 

A typical Monday indeed?

Anything but. 

It was certainly unconventional, the way you launched yourself out of bed the next morning in favor of tripping into a pair of jeans and dashing to fix your hair in the bathroom mirror. You haven't put so much effort into getting ready in months, and factoring in time for a dab of makeup left you skipping breakfast in favor of slinging your bag over your shoulder to rush out the door on time.

An iced Americano restores breath to your lungs, but does nothing to soothe the jitter in your bouncing knee as the train doors shut and a voice crackles over the intercom, unintelligible. A chocolate croissant is light on your tongue, memories of the flaky pastry crossing your mind only to be drowned out by thoughts of the next station and the promises it holds.

With no novel in hand, it is easy for your eyes to flick to the crowd as the train slows coming into the station. Effortlessly, you pick him out even with the white mask across the lower half of his face obscuring his nose and mouth. His visage is scrawled, it seems, on the inside of your eyelids; it danced throughout your Human Behaviors class, teased you through the late night of cramming for midterms. You hoped the concealer would cover the dark spots under your eyes, but you couldn't be certain.

As the doors slide open and the crowd surges forward, you lose him for a moment in the streams and flows of people coming and going. He appears just down the car, button-down rolled at the elbows, and even from a distance you feel your cheeks heat as he finds an empty seat just across the aisle.

Yesterday, his jacket hid him to the knuckles under the security of worn leather. But today, pushed sleeves reveal the ink snuggled tight around his wrist, curling its way up his forearm to snake hidden under the folds of the unbuttoned dress shirt he so casually threw over another plain black t-shirt. Sunflowers and daisies and blossoms you can't even name bloom in color across his skin, geometric designs etching sculpture into living marble. He is a magnum opus through and through, bearing so many works of art on the canvas of his flesh.

The white wires of his headphones leave him oblivious to the world, the galaxies in his pupils twinkling under the stark white light. He is wholly unbothered by a group of high school girls tittering to his left, the judging eyes of the older gentleman to his right. He simply exists in all of his beauty, whether the world wishes to love him or not.

And then his eyes find you.

It is only for a moment, but his gaze renders you breathless, mind spinning, pulse racing. He blinks owlishly, staring only for a second, two, but it's long enough to feel your heart ricochet around your chest, caged butterflies in your chest soar against the crest of your ribcage. They dart in tandem, beating their fragile wings with a fluttering pulse; you swear you’re reduced to a mere teenager at the sight of him, and that’s just ridiculous. The train car around you is suspended; it is hard to believe you are breathing the same air merely a few paces away, but you are and it is him and the depth of his soul is staring you blind in the face.

You don’t know him but you know him, all at once. He says a thousand sweet nothings with the shine of the lights in his eyes, promises commandments to keep when his lashes flutter against the apples of his cheeks. He is a complete stranger but somehow, someway, a known companion. His fingers twitch against the fabric of his jeans and you wonder what they would feel like wrapped around yours, memorizing every divot with a careful reverence. How they would brush your hip when he pulls you against his side, how they would pull at you craving more, more, more— 

A spice of cologne curls under your nose, a little floral, a little sweet. Perhaps it’s his, the scent that clings to his pillow in the morning and his jacket in the evening. The tap of the woman’s foot to your left is the beat of his footsteps on the creaky apartment floor as he announces he’s home, he’s brought dinner; life is simple and content—

He nods his head to the beat that flows quick through his headphones, eyes shut, in his own world. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to share on your morning commute, fingers entwined with coffee in one hand but music in your heart—

Bodies around you ebb and flow, but the flurry is nothing compared to the images that swirl in front of you. Tracing his tattoos with the lightest touch, laughing till his nose scrunches at a shitty pun, early kisses and late-night touches. The warmth in his eyes when you do something stupid, the comfort in your arms around his shoulders when he’s doubting himself—

It’s a misplaced elbow to your ribs that jolts you out of reverie as the older gentleman seated next to you creaks to his feet. You wince and open your mouth to complain, but not before taking in the empty seat across the train car, devoid of leather and ink and beauty.

Where did he g— 

That’s when the car doors slide shut and you, all too soon, come to a stunning realization:

The handsome stranger whom you have just spent twenty minutes daydreaming about is gone, nowhere to be seen, lost in the crowd of chaos that is the city.

And you have completely missed your stop.

Well, it’s a damn good thing taxi cabs exist.

Your alarm does not go off on Wednesday morning. Perhaps a fatal mistake, because by the time your dreary eyes crack open at the suspicious amount of rest you’re getting for the middle of the week, you are supposed to leave your apartment in eight minutes— shower, breakfast, makeup, and all.

Perhaps there is a god looking out for you after all, because you manage to make it out of the house only two minutes later (although just about all of the above had to wait). Your stomach grumbles as your feet trod down the littered stairs of the station, an insistent reminder that the last meal you had was ten hours ago, and you really need to eat sooner rather than later. No time meant no coffee meant cold hands, an unfortunate consequence, and you’re shivering your way through the turnstiles onto the train as the wind bites cool at the back of your neck.

You’re still drowsy from sleep, a ten page paper having kept you awake, so it is no surprise that you nod off on the train. You’re not sure when your mind clears of soporific fog, but when your eyes flutter open, the one person you’ve been waiting for is seated in front of you with his elbow slung across a backpack next to him, propping up his head as he too drifts off. A raven cloth mask covers his nose and his mouth, his eyelashes brushing the curve of his cheeks, a bit crimson from the chill. A binder slips crooked under his arm, threatening to topple to the floor. Squinting at the train board means you’ve got two stops left and you force yourself upright, rubbing your eyes only to wince at their dryness.

Though your eyes ache and sleep tugs at your bones, he is worth staying awake for as his body sways with the rhythm of the car. Around you, everyone is immersed in their own little slices of the world, completely oblivious to another tired traveler. There’s a scar on his cheek and a tiredness about him, and your heart, two sizes too big, aches for something you don’t quite understand. One station passes without interruption and he is still asleep, draped over his backpack with his notebook slipping further, further. 

The train rounds the final bend, brakes screeching as it pulls into the station. The sudden deceleration is enough to send the stranger’s binder, packed with papers, spinning to the floor of the train just as you stand to gather your things. A few index cards here, some loose green and white papers there, and he is somehow still asleep through all of this, surrounded by oblivious minds and occupied hearts.

You have approximately five seconds to make a decision before the train fills with a swell of new passengers.

You don’t have to think when you’ve already made your choice.

Forgoing the cleanliness of your jeans, you stoop to the floor, scrabbling the spilled contents of paper and a pencil and a spare Chapstick into the mouth of the binder. People are already beginning to spill through the door, but you’re pushing your way through without a second glance, feet pounding the steps underneath you. You follow the beam of light that pours underground, cutting corners and rushing staircases until you are facing a narrow city block and the buildings that reach on tiptoe to kiss the heavens. The sun’s caress is warm on your cheeks as you stride through the gates, ever stony in their stoicism, and find a shady bench to sit and organize the mess in your hands.

It is a simple black binder filled to the brim with notebook paper, neat handwritten ideas that dissolve into simplistic sketches and jotted thoughts. You don’t mean to read it, you really don’t, but as you tuck the pencil into the neon green case looped through the rings, a single form catches your eye: an advertisement for the show in the greater library this weekend, set up by the architecture majors showcasing their designs in conjunction with the fine arts students.

He does fine arts? That must be the sketches in these pages. But perhaps it’s a casual hobby for him? Maybe he’s only interested in it and not actually pursuing it as a major. There’s Korean on this too; is he an international student? How long has he been going here? Why isn’t he dorming on campus with the others—  

A cough in front of you, and when you glance upward, you nearly choke in surprise.

Hazel shines russet when his eyes catch the light that filters through the trees, twinkling with something unknown when they meet your own. His hair is tucked under a beanie, vivid red against the muddy brown of his oversized sweater. His mask is pulled down to his chin as he fidgets in front of you, twisting his fingers with almost a childlike nervousness. His lips part, plush, a little chapped. “Can I have that?”

His English is sweet, accented on the ears, a softer tone than you’re expecting, but you don’t mind it. Curse your nerves and your sweaty palms! “Oh! Yeah, sure!” You nearly shove the binder at him and he blinks owlishly, taking a moment to examine its contents, making sure nothing is out of place while you ramble on and on. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get it back to you on the train, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to bother you, especially since here that’s typically just not what people do, you know how they are- Oh, your pencils and things are inside the pencil case, I figured they would be too much to try to carry around before I found you, you know? And I didn’t want anything to get lost; I hate when things of mine go missing and I tend to be so scatterbrained.” You chortle nervously as he hugs the binder to his chest.

A small smile blossoms on the stranger’s face and you get the feeling there’s more he wants to say, but doesn’t know how. Instead, he bows graciously, a little pink in the cheeks, and states simply, “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, really! Don’t worry about it. It’s what I’d want someone to do for me and since I’ve seen you only recently on the morning train, I didn’t quite know if you’re new to campus or you’ve been here a while and just moved or something like that-” He’s still staring, eyes wide, and you realize you’ve been talking for far too long. “But ah, I’m sorry! Continue on, yeah? Have a good day!” You ramble, internally kicking yourself. Damn your loose tongue and damn this man for being so infernally, unfairly attractive.

He blushes even deeper, face flushing crimson, and shoulders his backpack. “You too…?” When he trails off, you realize he’s waiting for your name and nearly trip over your own tongue getting the syllables out. He repeats it once and nods, extending a hand. “My name is Jeongguk.”

The way his fingers brush yours is ingrained in the softness of your skin for the rest of your day, in the touch of cologne that lingers in the autumn air long after he’s gone to class. He is the sweetness of your afternoon Starbucks and the freckles of the night sky, dotted through the ambient fog that settles over the city with all the comfort of a blanket. Somehow, someway, there’s a name to the face.

A very handsome face, to boot.

You wake early that Thursday, early enough that you have time to wrap yourself in the fuzziest blanket you own and pad to the window to gaze out upon the city as it wakes slowly, block by block.

The city is sleepy too, rosy glow hanging lazily over the skyline, reluctant to slip into the brightness of daytime. It slumps against the skyscrapers, vibrant fingers brushing the glass with the softest caresses, whispering sweet nothings to the minds that rest just behind the other side. Perhaps dawn enjoys pampering her city like this, with the kindest affirmations and the prettiest, warmest eyes. 

From your apartment window, it is as if first light is melting away, slipping lower and lower as the cracked-egg yolk of the sun leaks over the harbor, spilling over the urban jungle. As you stand, blanket around your shoulders and bathed in the beauty of early morning, a thought strikes you, a minute snippet of profound reality.

It is still on your mind as your feet cross the platform an hour later, effortlessly stepping over the gap into the narrow confines of the train car. It’s busier this morning and thus your usual seat is taken, leaving you to stand and cling for dear life to the pole. A stranger brushes your arm and someone pushes against your backpack, your throat tightening in response. Oh, how you hated busy days. Anxiety blurs your surroundings, swirling in color and breath and heat around you, an unfocused Polaroid. It is blurry and nothing is right, and the doors are opening and closing, opening and closing, and then there’s a new face pressing to your left, and your entire world melts at the very seams.

It is him. Him! He is here and real and in front of you, and has opted to completely ignore his usual (empty) seat in favor of standing with you, a kindly smile gracing the corners of his lips and he ducks his head into your field of view. His eyes flick to yours and the bokeh clears, your heart thrumming happily at the warmth they contain. His fingers grip above your own as he shifts to make sure others can flow around him; you take in that little scar on his cheek, the moles that dot his neck just under the folds of his jacket, the subtle lick of ink that dips into his collarbone. You can just make out the hum that trickles from his headphones over the rattling of the train, a melodic undertone, and his head dips to check his phone.

You’re the one to nudge Jeongguk when it’s your mutual stop, him flinching with surprise when he realizes how fast the ride has gone, and as you follow up through the station, you find that you are no longer trailing him, but instead by his side. He opts to walk next to you; when you tilt your head, asking the silent question, he merely smiles and pushes the pace just a bit. When you’re chasing sunlight on stone, borne out of the street into the mouth of the day, you find yourselves under the university gates, side by side. He takes out his earbuds, fidgeting with the wires as one foot taps the sidewalk. He’s nervous. “I just wanted to say thank you for getting my book yesterday,” he begins. “Properly thank you.”

“It’s nothing, Jeongguk!” You grin, perhaps a little flushed. “Anytime, really.”

Now it’s his turn to redden, shuffling in place. “Ah, is there anything I can do to return the favor?”

“Jeongguk, don’t be silly! Well…” you trail off. “Answer me one question. What’re you majoring in?”

He beams a little at this, glancing at the sidewalk. “I’m studying architecture here for a year; I’m from Seoul. I’m also learning English.” He winces. “Or trying to.”

“Well, I think you’re doing a great job. It’s amazing that you’re learning architecture in an urban environment like this!” You gesture above as a flock of pigeons flutters past. Like a damn Disney film. 

His eyes follow the birds as they swoop above the street, ducking under lamps and through scaffolding. “It’s different from Seoul, but also like Seoul. I like it,” he confesses. “I really like the city. Any city is my city, not just Seoul. You know?”

God, he is so cute, it hurts. Hearing him talk is flowers blooming snug in your chest, winding around your nerves, soothing their live-wire ends. You can’t help but smile at him. “I know.”

“I don’t want to keep you too long…” Jeongguk hesitates as the bell in the clocktower resonates down the commons. “Class starts soon.”

You frown. “Too soon. Want to grab lunch over at Fourteenth?”

His brows furrow. “Fourteenth?”

“Fourteenth and Tenth, yeah. There’s a cute little cafe on the corner, great for people watching and Americanos. And bubble tea. There’s ramen a few shops down, too.”

“Ramen!” Jeongguk practically vibrates in excitement. You swear your face will crack from how hard you’re grinning, from shyness or joy or both. His nose scrunches; your stomach flutters. “Can I have your number? Wait, is that too direct? May I have your phone?” He shakes his head but you’re already handing him your device, a new contact at the ready.

“Text me when you get out of class. I’ll show you how real ramen is supposed to taste.”

Jeongguk raises a hand in farewell, slipping his own phone back into his pocket. You’ll never know that he saved your contact under 귀여운 여행자, nor that he suddenly has a reason to stay awake through his 8am.

And when he spots you sitting there under the Alma Mater a few hours later, his heart skips a beat in its chest. His phone vibrates in his hand.

Ready to eat?

He was born ready.

There’s a poetry book you like to read on Friday morning subway rides, one that filters breath into your lungs and stirs the lyrics in your heart. You soak up the comforts of literature with a mocha in the other hand, lo-fi in your ears, and obnoxiously colored plastic supporting your back. How wonderful life could be in all of its simple joys.

There’s warmth at your side in the form of a boy, a boy with the stars in his eyes and the galaxy in his heart who asked if he could sit next to you and with a pounding in your chest, you gladly accepted, moving your bag to your lap and returning to your Keats, singing cants of yearning all these years later.

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart,

Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

The moving waters at their priestlike task

Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask

Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--

No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,

And so live ever--or else swoon to dea—

A note is tucked into your open page, a folded piece of cream-white paper, smooth at the edges, unwrinkled. You glance up at him to find his gaze steadily fixed on a grayed gum stain, knee jumping up and down, up and down as he fingers the rip in his frayed jeans. You unfold the paper slowly, carefully.

Are you busy on Sunday afternoon? Because I’d really like to take you to an art exhibition on campus, and I think you’d look right at home among the masterpieces.

Jeongguk’s focus is on the floor and the floor alone as his stomach twists. Butterflies beat their wings against his ribcage, darting here and there, and he swears that if the train sways one more time, he may throw up his bagel right there and then.

He feels something at his right jacket pocket and flinches, only to notice it is your hand that retreats from it a second later.

He produces a familiar looking scrap of paper from his pocket with trembling fingers, unfolding it anew as he reads a new line of scribbled letters, squinting a little at the cramped figures.

An art exhibition? Sounds like a perfect first date to me.

And that’s how this beautiful thing begins.

an epilogue (of sorts): one year and one day later

There is a thought you had many moons ago, in the heart of a child but nestled in a timeless soul. A thought that was purely fantasy: of mankind supporting the weight of the heavens with the structures that scratch the sky around your tiny little apartment, shared not by one soul, but two. Never before had someone so fallen into your heart like he had, cradling it in his palms with sweet, sweet adoration. Jeongguk was yours and you were his, and that was simply how things were.

You had moved in shortly after you began dating, a decision some criticized but had felt purely natural to the both of you. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him, easy to let him into the world you had built for yourself now expanding to fit one more.

He introduced you to Korean barbecue and held you when things wouldn’t go your way; you dragged him into the vortex of John Mulaney’s comedy and cried together while binging all seven Harry Potter movies in two days. He taught you some Korean while you polished his English, supplementing it with words he perhaps didn’t need to know, but you couldn’t help laughing when he mashed profanities in brand-new combinations. He loved tea and quiet nights on the couch; you craved the intimate moments high above it all, watching your city rush beneath you in all of its gritty, grimy, wonderful glory. Jeongguk’s pen scratches the page of his sketchbook as you gaze out at the lights that flicker in the apartment buildings seated securely in midtown, downtown, beyond.

We will never know when the sky decides to fall, to come crashing down to earth in all of her heavenly splendor. It is something known only in the fabric of the universe, stitched together in cosmic threads we cannot even hope to unravel. Not yet, anyways. It will come to us eventually, when it is time, comfortably so. In the meantime, you’ll look out over the balcony railing of your little studio apartment uptown, the night air breathing clear, with a blanket wrapped around your legs and Jeon Jeongguk by your side, unceasingly himself.

And that is everything you can ask for in this life and the next.

#bts #bts fluff #kpop fluff #jungkook fluff #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenario #bts au #verses and vibes #outroshooky #guksheart

[cinderswife]

A wanted poster from a backwater moon. Somehow, it is the only piece of speculation ever to hit the nail on your true former identity. You consider briefly going scorched earth on the posters, but that'd prove them right. Instead, you let the rumors circulate and never weigh in. This too shall pass and new gossip will spring up soon enough. Years later, one of your mid-ranked officers asks you about it and you laugh it off. "As if I could ever be as pretty as Snow was."

a recreation of the canon general white wanted poster, featuring my general white design and pieces of my worldbuilding! bit of an impulsive project for the day but man it turned out so good. no idea what the original fonts were, so this is my favorite guess. also i redrew the king's stamp by hand :') worth it though !!! look at her!!!

#the mechanisms #ouatis #once upon a time in space #snow white ouatis #general white ouatis #planet's doodles #i used up so much brain juice on this asdfjklhasf but Look At Her #verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

my twin and i saw you across the ballroom and we hate your vibes. die.

or: the grand duchess snow and legendary war hero rose are petty little bastards. prepared to be judged

(also pushing my transmasc she/her lesbian rose agenda shhh)

#the mechanisms #once upon a time in space #ouatis #rose red ouatis #snow white ouatis #planet's doodles #verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

currently rotating rose red around in my brain so here's some outfits i designed for her (this is pre-meeting cinders btw)! bonus design notes under the cut :3

nude

i knew immediately that i wanted rose to be short and built like a brick shithouse. she is dense and compact and impossible to knock over. also, she gets to be a bear girl because everyone in my ouatis au is an animal eared person. its a fun concept i saw trawling the tumblr tag and i have decided it is very canon.

absolutely covered in freckles

yes those are top surgery scars. very recent in fact! its a cross between unrealized gender things and the pain of breasts that are just. too big. always.

her tail is usually too small to be seen from this angle but i wanted to show off her tiny red puff

most of her scars are from military combat with the exception of the top surgery scars and the one on her left hand which came from when she punched a window at the age of 15 defending snow from one of their dads getting super duper upset b/c snow was starting to date

she is 4'10" and so proud of it. will kick your ass if you're a dick about it

pajamas

nothing much to say here, she just. doesn't care all that much. tank top and sweat pants are the perfect combo of temperatures for her.

also she wears heart patterned boxers and we love her for that

military work uniform

do you know how hard it is to design a military uniform when you don't usually give a shit about the military. i spend so many hours going down worldbuilding subreddits and forums before i figured out something i was happy with. anyways! this is a non-combative officer's work uniform (aka the uniform rose wore when she was commander of the prison cinders was in). i picked red because it's the color most strongly associated with cole's army, but i figure that soldiers in combat would have better camouflage built into their uniforms.

the patch on her left shoulder (the one with the deer) is the symbol for colonel. it's also mirrored on a smaller scale on her breast. cole's army uses animals to mark higher ranks

the other shoulder patch marks her current assignment

i liked white as an accent color because of its prevalence in the album. also it looks nice!

the sleeve stripes and the chevrons both indicate that she is a very important officer

the other patches on her breast are the simplified coat of arms for her noble house (the house of grimm) and all of the medals she has earned in her 11 years of service

military dress uniform

the fancy version of her uniform for Events and Public Appearances. it's a bit darker in tone for the sake of visual interest and has a lot more accessories. this one was a nightmare to color i stg but i'm super happy with the way it turned out.

you get to see all her medals! she has complicated feelings on them but they are shiny and look very nice so.

the stripes, chevrons, and deer are all the same as the work uniform for some easy visual shorthand of her rank

the only time rose will ever wear a tie or any other neck decoration because it's regulation.

i liked the way a black undershirt looked over a white one, no other reason lol

the bear medal is because the bear is a symbol of her noble family. most people have a cougar of some sort instead.

the sword and the lion are both special awards granted specifically by cole. the lion in particular came from her first deployment where she accidentally changed the tides on the invasion of the perrault (cinders' planet) and became a war hero/propaganda piece at 19

the boots have buckles. they are never quite tight enough and its annoying.

casual dress

off duty, rose wears crisp, well tailored masc outfits. she knows how to dress herself to look effortlessly important due to being raised noble but she doesn't think too hard about it.

she wears shorts instead of full pants whenever she can get away with it. snow hates this.

no she is not buttoning up all the way. why would you make her put this much effort into it. she's hotter with it undone

fun fact: i initially made her vest and shorts green but i decided that blue looked nicer

fancy dress

i've elected to go with a 1700s inspired look for the nobility. it's very fairytale-esque and also allows me to have fun with it! i wanted to do more embroidery, but i wound up not having the patience for such a thing. ah well, what i've got looks nice enough.

rose usually wears cool colors in her formal outfits. this purple is a particular favorite of hers because it goes really nicely with her hair and ears without being obnoxious

once again, rose out here avoiding any sort of neck accessory or hat. accessories that annoy her for $10,000

the lilac undershirt is not connected to the off-white trousers it's two separate pieces.

the gold accents cut a very striking figure and also look very pretty <3

the boots are supposed to be longer and pointier but idk how well i pulled that off aha

she's very handsome and i love her

#the mechanisms #ouatis #once upon a time (in space) #rose red ouatis #planet's doodles #im really proud of this btw outfit design is not a strong point of mine but i think i really pulled it together for rose #please love and appreciate my blorbo #verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

some concept sketches for my pre-ouatis versions of cinders, rose, and snow! these are roughly the designs im using in the fic i am working on right now :3

#ouatis #the mechanisms #snow white ouatis #rose red ouatis #cinders ouatis #planet's doodles #verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

General Mercymourn "Mercy" White, leader of the paramilitary operation dedicated to taking down King Cole, is a controversial figure even within her own organization. Hers is the only revolution to come even close to succeeding in ending 2,000 years of oppression and it is only by descending to depths of cruelty and brutality unmatched by any except His Majesty himself. Do the ends justify the means? Is this heroism? Is she a legend or a monster? Some believe the answer to these questions lies in the fact of who she used to be, an impossible task as she has been scarred beyond recognition and the name "Mercymourn White" only exists in records made after she began her war.

As for why the name Mercymourn, well the watsonian answer is that General White needed a first name to throw some of the scent off of Snow. Initially she considered Cordelia, but with the amount of news coverage of the SS Anderson explosion and the death of Captain Cordelia White of the HMSS Huntsman it was too much of a risk to associate with that event. Besides, she looked nothing like the original Cordelia White even after the scars. So, with Cinders' help she invented a new name in the style of Perraultan (Cinders' planet's) noble families, one that has never existed before. The name Mercymourn was picked because she mourns the goodness and mercy she had fought so hard for in her youth. It's also a delicious irony to have people call her "Mercy" when she gives none. Plenty of space for a few jokes as well to bring some levity to dark times.

The doylist answer is that it's an extremely self indulgent name. I enjoy the locked tomb series a normal amount (<- blatantly lying) and in particular am obsessed with the name Mercymorn. Combined with my love of the "morning/mourning" dichotomy, well, General White gets the highest of honors for characters I flesh out: a cool as hell name :3 Also the thematic implications are just so fun to poke around with.

Anyways. I am soooo normal about General White come closer.

#ouatis #the mechanisms #once upon a time in space #snow white ouatis #general white #planet's doodles #planet's worldbuilding #verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

well this was supposed to be an entire sketchpage dedicated to snow and rose's relationship, but then i got too invested in this one specifically!

rose doesn't sleep at night. at least cuddling snow gives her strength to face the nightmares, which means she gets an okay night's sleep instead of none at all. snow for her part is just happy whenever her sister is home and alive and would Strongly prefer to keep her that way

#the mechanisms #ouatis #once upon a time in space #once upon a time (in space) #snow white ouatis #rose red ouatis #planet's doodles #verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

happy new year! as a treat, i have finished snow's outfits :D she's the last in the series after cinders and rose :3 as always, lore under the cut!

nude

much like cinders, snow was designed to be in compliment to rose! we know from the album that she was beautiful and had long black hair but beyond that i wanted to make sure she looked like she could feasibly be rose's sister. she is also a bear girl <3

snow is fat! it was very important to me that she was fat with stretch marks and still extremely beautiful. so, here she is !!

i gave her a beauty mark because it's very classic hollywood beauty

you also probably couldn't actually see her tail at this angle because tiny bear tail but its so cute!

since this is pre becoming general white, she's a lot softer and gentler than her sister

fun fact: snow is actually her middle name but nobody ever calls her by her first name adelaide ever

also. this woman is so busy do you think she has the time to think about her gender and sexuality ever

dressing gown

snow is exceptionally wealthy and powerful so of course she has a monogrammed silk dressing gown. she doesn't actually wear it to sleep; she overheats way too quickly so she wears very little to bed.

entering the first appearance of snow's favorite color to wear: light blue!

yes, snow is wearing a wedding ring. since she's 29 and the head of a noble house, i figured she would be married. it was an arranged marriage to darr, the youngest child of some count somewhere because ze is entirely unambitious and willing to let snow do her thing

they also have a son together. his name is eret, he is 3, he looks up to auntie rose a little too much, his favorite animals are snakes and penguins, and he will quote space-disney at you incessantly.

duchess work dress

snow is the grand duchess of the duchy of delinore. she is the only grand duchess in the entire empire; this is the title that is equivalent to crown prince. yes she is technically his majesty king cole's heir due to being the current hereditary grimm on the throne of delinore. this is mostly a ceremonial fact since his majesty is immortal. delinore is 12 inhabited planets large and covers an entire star system which makes her perhaps the most powerful woman in the galaxy. snow is very tired all the time.

i was watching disney's snow white while designing this and the next outfit; i really like the blue and yellow look on her

this is a modular outfit! she can put on and take off the vest and cape depending on how formal she needs to be.

snow wears a lot of jewelry. this earring and necklace set was an anniversary present from her spouse!

the silver circlet atop her head is that of the duchess. you'll see it in almost every other outfit afterwards; it's like a wedding ring but for her noble status

court of stars

as his majesty's heir, snow is required to take part in the irregular meetings of his majesty's inner court: the court of stars. much of the lesser laws are handled by the council of stars and the other, lesser nobility. full disclosure: snow fucking hates this. she uses her position to do much good in the world and views his majesty like an extremely shitty and powerful grandfather she has to put up with in order to do what she needs to do. if the wedding day slaughter hadn't happened, she would still have eventually caused his death through an insane game of "political assassination cat and mouse." Y'know, different from the war.

this is the evil queen type fit. i just wanted to draw her as an evil queen okay

lorewise, this is the ceremonial outfit of her status tailored to her feminine appearance. black and red cape, deep purple dress, shiny gold jewelry, all designed to be as evil as possible

the bear clasp is the same as rose's! its the grimm family's symbol (cuz. they're all bears lol)

the dress sparkles like stars

she absolutely didn't have to go this hard with the makeup but she had fun with it. a small relief when dealing with his majesty

basically i just went really hard on the star motif

the crown is the ceremonial black iron crown of the grand duke that only ever comes out in court meetings. it's a smaller version of his majesty's black iron crown. its really heavy :(

casual

the return of the blue and yellow! this is snow's favorite color combo to wear ever <3

snow likes to wear pants when she doesn't have to deal with the many duties of being the grand duchess. it's her casual fit!

this particular set of jewelry has the snowflake motif. it's extremely on the nose which is why she likes it.

i dunno what tank tops with the extra shoulder straps are called but i thought it suited her <3

she would fully wrestle rose in this fit btw. she wouldn't win but it'd be fun!

ballgown

snow's ballgown for wearing to formal events (that she typically hosts). technically she owns a lot more, but this one is representative of her usual style. the bodice is typical, though it is a bit risque because it has no sleeves. the skirt is even moreso but she pulls it off because of her status and because she is commonly named the most beautiful woman in all the galaxy.

i thought it would be fun to put her in red! its such a loaded color in ouatis but she really pulls it off

and here's the light yellow she's so fond of <3

the boots are big and shiny and quite excessive; fully a display of wealth (especially since she's showing them off)

the drape of her skirt, rather than being modest and layered like cinders', is very form fitting and attention grabbing even without the slit

she would put her hair up but i did not have the patience to try and redraw her hair more than i had to lol

the gold jewelry she wears is big and heavy and almost armor-like. she likes it a lot

she put glitter on her makeup for this one <3

#the mechanisms #ouatis #once upon a time in space #once upon a time (in space) #snow ouatis #planet's doodles #planet's worldbuilding #snow my beloved snow she is so. <3 #verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

consider the following: bear hybrid rose red with FANGS

#the mechanisms #once upon a time (in space) #ouatis #rose ouatis #rose red ouatis #planet's doodles #cinders is also technically here but its just her arms so #did you know that. women <3 #verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

a companion piece to my previous outfit ref of rose, here's cinders!! i had so much fun designing her a variety of outfits <33 cinders my beloved cinders my wife :3 i will also do one of these for snow because i can't not!

design notes and lore info dump under the cut

nude

so cinders was design to be a complimentary opposite to rose as well as heavily fire themed. she's tall, she's lanky, and she's one of those people who is uncomfortable to hug because they're so bony. she's also a wolf girl. wolf girl rights <3

cinders is a trans woman !! this is very important to me.

the scar on her torso is actually where a sci-fi hrt implant was implanted so she doesn't have to worry about taking hrt cuz she's got so much other shit going on

cinders has had a hell of a time in cole's prisons over the past 10 years. her tattered ear and lip scar come from some of the several times she has stood up for herself and met violence with violence and she is notably malnourished

the gradient in cinders' hair is a very common trait among the people of her planet Perrault and is also very pretty

the dots on cinders' face are skin picking scars

fun fact: other than the eye color, having been amab, and a few environmental factors, cinders looks exactly like her mother. wonder what that's about

prison uniform

the prison uniform of cole's prisons is pretty standard across the empire: grey with a red triangle on the front. realistically, this should be the only outfit on the sheet because cinders has been in prison for an entire decade but that'd be boring.

cinders' uniform hangs off her body. uniforms her size are designed for peope with a lot more meat on their bones

princess party dress

full disclosure: this was an excuse to design cinders a disney princess dress. lore wise, this is cinders' favorite party dress imported from one of the four planets perrault was in a close trade relationship with. it's also the dress she was captured by cole in. it was her 20th birthday party which was meant to bring a little levity to the people of her planet in the midst of a terrible war. unfortunately, the combination of her stepmother marguerite's betrayal and a promising young soldier named rose grimm accidentally discovering a secret tunnel meant that the party went down in the most tragic way possible.

this dress is made up of lots and lots of orange gradients and was designed to match her hair

the tiger lillies on her dress and gloves are detailed fabric replicas

her tiara and necklace are made of rose gold, which on perrault is its own naturally occurring metal. it's very difficult to refine correctly, so this small amount of it is a fabulous flaunt of wealth and power

the tiara has no special history compared to other royal jewels, this one was commissioned specifically for her

the glitter was painstakingly hand beaded in by an artisan (and was drawn with a glitter brush lol)

queen of perrault

hey wait a minute, isn't cinders a princess? well. this is entirely delving into headcanon/lore territory, but my particular cinders was queen from the ages of 12 to 19 because her father, the heritage king, was old and ailing and her mother died unexpectedly (cough reneged on the deal with a witch that created cinders cough). in order to keep the people from freaking out, her advisors took advantage of her looking exactly like her mother and made her queen. transition by becoming your mother, you know how it goes. this was not approved by her father, who did not die, and it turned into a whole political mess that ended with her as princess instead of queen. she was the best queen her people had had in a very long time, even if she had to lead her people to war in the latter half of her reign. i'll get into the details some other time but. lore!

this is the only outfit on this sheet that reflects the cultural fashion of perrault, specifically in the floating capital

this is an extremely goth outfit by perraultan standards. red is the color associated with mourning and ties heavily into funerary traditions and bone white is the color of death and evil. cinders' reign was haunted by grief and mourning

the gold is just an accent color. all of the embroidery was hand embroidered, which in an era of perfect machine embroidery is a huge flex and considered very fashionable

she is wearing two veils. the first one is mostly to make the crown more comfortable on her head (that sucker is heavy and tugs at her hair) and features elaborate designs on the inside. the second, translucent lace one is to obscure her features so people don't notice she's a lot younger than her mother

the crown cinders is wearing is the rose gold crown of the perrault! it was designed for one of her distant ancestors, the first queen of the grimsnarl dynasty, after perrault formed a coalition with the other four trader planets. aside from being made of pure rose gold and thus the world's biggest flex of wealth and power, every aspect of it has meaning.

the seven peaks of the crown represent the seven great nations of perrault that cinders' rules over. the peaks aren't assigned to any specific nation because one might get mad about being tiny while another flaunts how big it is. the size variation of the peaks is designed to mimic the towers of the castle, which is on a floating island unattached to any nation.

the jewels on the crown are the national jewels of the coalition of five trader planets and represents the strong ties between them. the big topaz represents perrault, the morganite represents telemaine, the heliodore represents anea, the ruby represents charn, and the amethyst represents quaria. all of these planets fell to cole's rule after perrault did

cinders isn't wearing any other jewelry because the embroidery on her dress is worth more than any jewel in the kingdom

the fabric of this dress is very heavy because it gets chilly on a castle on a floating island

day dress

this dress is not of any of the trader planets' fashions. rather, it comes from the six month time period between cinders and rose's marriage (aka signing a piece of paper to get cinders out of jail) and their wedding (the ceremony that kicked off ouatis). this fashion style comes from the star system of delinore, the duchy snow rules over and that snow and rose are from. this is actually my favorite outfit on this entire sheet; cinders in pink gingham is something that can be so personal

look, you actually get to see cinders' feet! she doesn't usually wear dresses this short haha

turns out that this particular pastel pink is cinders' favorite color <3

this dress is a lot lighter weight than cinders has worn previously; the capital city of delinore, chel, is a lot warmer than perrault's capital

the rose necklace was something snow got for her as a wedding gift. cinders like it so much she found shoes to match

big floppy hat rights for cinders !!!! i want her in so many hats you don't understand

this is a gingham dress! its so pretty

the ring on her finger isn't The Glass Ring TM, it's just the one snow grabbed for the impromptu courtroom marriage/pardoning. don't worry, the glass ring will show up at the actual wedding. consider it like an engagement ring

ballgown

i wanted to give cinders an homage to disney's cinderella (who was my favorite disney princess growing up), hence this dress! much like the previous outfit, this one also originates from delinore. cinders wore it to balls and other formal events that snow hosted that rose was required to be at.

turns out that when cinders has complete control of what she wears (no royal duties or prison) she really likes monochrome pastels. she is my pastel queen.

this dress is made up of a very lightweight silk that shimmers in the moonlight

the glitter on the medium blue is actually baked into the fabric, but it makes her sparkle more

the cowl and the hair fascinator are part of a matched set, hence the matching flowers

cinders does Not like having her arms out, hence the big long gloves. also they're pretty !!

basically cinders is very pretty and i love her

#the mechanisms #once upon a time (in space) #ouatis #cinders ouatis #planet's doodles #there is so much lore under the cut #please read my worldbuilding #and admire my wife #verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

cinders timeline, yipee!!! observe how my baby girl grows and changes over the years <3 she's having A Bad Life haha.

the tl;dr on this is. she has a Very Bad Time, a few months of y'know, things are going well actually, and then what i can only describe as terrible freedom. also because this is fantasy kemonomimi ouatis she sprouts antlers in her 40s and has to deal with That. boo hiss.

#the mechanisms #ouatis #one upon a time (in space) #cinders ouatis #planet's worldbuilding #planet's doodles #verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

drew this a month ago and forgot to post it lol. anyways! have you considered: milf cinders? cinders aging? cinders surviving because she has no choice? cinders occasionally being a badass? (my cinders growing antlers in her 40s and bearing them like the crown she was cruelly denied?)

inspired by this cover of get in the water from epic the musical. kind of obsessed with it. i picture my cinders with a more alto voice closer to raphaella's anyways so like. it fits.

also! you get a peek into my more rendered art style hehe

#the mechanisms #ouatis #once upon a time in space #cinders ouatis #planet's doodles #verse: dog star in ursa major #still insane abt this drawing btw look at MY WIFE

[cinderswife]

have you ever wondered what it would look like if rose and snow survived the ending of ouatis? how on earth would that work now?

well, wonder no further! take a peek inside cole's throne room from three different perspectives - rose's, snow's, and cinders' - to see just how they manage to survive that final battle. blood, gore, and long awaited reunions within!

#ouatis #the mechanisms #once upon a time (in space) #rose red ouatis #cinders ouatis #snow white ouatis #planet's stories #verse: dog star in ursa major #general white ouatis

[cinderswife]

lil work doodle of snow vs general white! since i've got snow down pat I wanted to see how thoroughly I could fuck up her face after she looses everything and goes to war

general white is fully blind and deaf on the left side (her right, our left) as she is missing that ear and eye. the entire left side of her face and neck is burned and half of her lips are missing. it took a bit for her to adapt (and there wasn't any way for like. reconstructive surgery or prosthetics to happen) but she finds that its a very effective disguise. in particular, she had to relearn how to talk somewhat, so her accent has changed significantly. people are generally too intimidated by the hollow socket of her eye and her eternally poking out fangs to make comments regardless.

#ouatis #the mechanisms #once upon a time (in space) #once upon a time in space #snow white ouatis #general white #planet's doodles #I like general white i think shes so fun and fucked up #verse: dog star in ursa major

[cinderswife]

having a niche ouatis au comprised of my own worldbuilding that mostly exists in my friends' discord messages is insane. like I can confidently say with my whole chest that general white is a deadbeat milf but no one except said friends would understand the context

anyways general white is a deadbeat mother in my au I think i have the son she abandoned to revolt against cole on this blog somewhere

#planet's rambles #ouatis #general white ouatis #the mechanisms #verse: dog star in ursa major