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bio-nerds-corner · 2 years

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Star Singer

the first of, perhaps, five unfinished fics. i do hope that ,even inspite of the parts that arent done, you enjoy this :)

soft vore, extreme size difference. isolation, perhaps fear of the void?

~6000 words

Nine-Metis. Home sweet fucking home. One of the larger nickel-iron mines within the asteroid-belt, and Wilbur’s new home for the next three years. An entire lump of rock in space all to his own. Fantastic.

Stepping from the transport shuttle airlock into the airlock of the mining operations center, he frowned a little at the grime and oil inlaid in the metal flooring, and the way that the air was far too cold for human comfort. Thank God he had put on his cardigan when the shuttle had arrived, it was clear much of the auxiliary life support systems were left on low-power.

The air pump wheezed and caught with a ragged cough of space dust, before registering a clear-to-entry sigil on the inner door of the airlock. Wilbur considered turning around and fucking off back to his home Orbit Station right then and there. Surely even Somnus, with its choking population and underwhelming job prospects, would be better than being blasted into space halfway to Jupiter?

Do it for the money. Do it for Dad.

He stepped into the mining control center, looking around at the stale air that seemed to sparkle with ice crystals, none of the lights yet on and the only light visible was a pale dull glow of the faraway sun coming through the shaded windows.

Wilbur pushed his way through the zero-gravity corridor, pulling his tablet from his pocket as he went to try and pull up one of the billion schematics that Astero-idea Mining Corp had sent him along with the job confirmation notice. One of these ought to be the layout of the mining operation center…

Ah, there it was. Heating was a floor up. Set up so the living quarters would be coziest, while he could freeze his balls off whenever he had to go down to the machine storage areas to work.

His job wasn’t glamorous. If anything, he was mostly a glorified machine baby-sitter. His job was to sit here for three years, keep the mining equipment happy, and occasionally send reports home about the quality of the meteor dust that it grinds up. Easy enough.

It also was supposedly the kind of job that changes the person who takes it forever. The kind that drives those to isolation madness, the kind of loneliness that cannot even be fathomed by the rest of the human race.

But hey, it paid really well as a result. And Wilbur needed it. He could deal with a little homesickness every once in a while, right?

Right.

There was a sudden heavy clunk that reverberated through the cold dark center that almost sent him jumping into the ceiling-wall panel, and he had kicked off back towards the sound before realizing it was probably the outer airlock disengaging from the transport shuttle, sending the now empty vehicle to dock in the shipping supply bay to refuel for the journey back.

The sound did attract his attention to the starscape around the meteor that was now his home, however. He knew that he would be able to see other tiny asteroids from his place on Metis, but he had never imagined how they might sparkle and shimmer like miniature moons. He thinks he could get used to a sight like that, but for now he would drink in the marvel of such an experience.

There was something curious about one of the closer meteors though… As if there was something stretched over the surface. Was there another meteor mining operation so close to his own base? Maybe he wouldn’t have to feel totally lonely after all?

He squinted some more. No… It didn’t seem like a base. He had gotten a good look at the shape of the center when the transport shuttle had arrived, and that dark patch seemed more…

Organic. Like an outstretched bird’s wing, or some large and elaborately finned fish.

He blinked a few times, and the shape’s organic shape dissolved into patches of light and shadow against the tiny meteor. Just a trick of the eye.

Abruptly he was feeling the cold again, and pushed the neighbor meteor’s curious shape out of his mind as he went back to fire up the auxiliary life support on this rock.

…

(feeling lonely, getting into the groove of working there. It mainly involves watching over a bunch of robots that shuttle in piles of dust. He tries to fashion it like he’s a shepherd, and the machines his flock. He grows tired of the joke by the end of that day though. Establish his singing - he does it a LOT while bored because the dull machine silence of the habitat would just drive him crazy otherwise)

Hello?

Wilbur full-body flinches. Then whips around to stare at the dark corners of the room, searching for something living amongst the floating piles of rubble and disassembled drill-bits that threatened to float out of arm’s reach. Nothing.

Hello?

There it was again. Right at the edge of his hearing, bordering on the unhearable. Did he just imagine it? He might have just imagined it.

Can you hear me?

This is fine. Just fine. Everyone’s heard of the exhaustion catching up to the average asteroid worker, the way the isolation causes auditory hallucinations. He’s just having a minor one. It’ll clear up after he gets some rest.

Hello, Wilbur.

He’ll break open an extra caff pack tomorrow morning. He deserves it. Especially after sleeping through the night with all of the lights on.

You can hear me.

…

Wilbur had decided, after much groaning, to reclassify his brief mental break as ‘ongoing’ after the third experience of hearing something whispering to him right at the edge of his hearing. He had honestly hoped that he would be able to avoid the ‘meteor madness’ everyone talked about for more than three months, he had really expected more from himself.

After the fourth instance of hearing voices whisper from the walls of the inner hull of the station, he decided that, what the hell, there was nobody else here to listen to him other than the mineral auger drill bits hes still got to polish and replace. So he answered back.

“Yea yea yea, I hear you, I’m here, I’m here. Could you speak up?” He called out to nothing in particular, taking the time to stop squinting at the newsfeed burst that had come through for this week (all some dumb political dick measuring contest happening back on one of the Venus orbiters, he really didn’t care about it but there wasn't much reading material out on a space rock like this) and stretching out his back in a cacophony of pops.

There was a couple of moments of silence that made him feel like an idiot, straining his ears only to hear the faint hum and chuff of the ventilation system. Then -

How about now?

The voice was extremely clear now, loud enough that it made Wilbur twist and stare wildly behind him. He could almost hear the breath that his mind had inserted into the voice, the inhalation that preceded those words.

As his heart slowed down from a race, he muttered a “fuck” under his breath. “Please- Please don’t do that again. Please.” For now there was too much adrenaline in his bloodstream for him to think of how ridiculous it was that he was begging with his own now obvious case of meteor madness.

Ok Wilbur.

And with that it had faded back into a far-away echo.

Wilbur didn’t read another two words from the news burst that day, and decided to turn on some loud music over the intercoms of the station instead.

…

hes really lonely. And one night on his time off he ends up sleepwalking to one of the larger windows on the small base and he… sees…. Something that looks like more than reflected rock on one of the asteroids. Something with enormous wings that glitter like comet trails

he doesnt see it again for a while. He starts hearing things though.

he tries to mention it to his family, but apparently isolation issues are a common thing with asteroid workers (inspo from antarctic workers?). dad puts it aside.

…

[This Call Has Been Inactive for [30] Minutes - Disconnecting in [5] Minutes To Save Broadband]

Fucking Tommy. He had planned this for a week, had done the time conversion to Earth Orbit schedule, everything. He’d even fucking called into his supervisors to get the long-range call times double-checked so he wouldn’t end up with his signal blocked by Mars or something. And Tommy hadn’t picked up.

Wilbur pushed out of the zero-gravity hammock contraption that acted as his chair with a groan that edged into a scream around the edges. He had looked forward to this for so long, long enough that he no longer cared that it sounded pathetic that this was the only thing he was looking forward to at all in recent memory.

“My own fucking brother! Standing me up on a call! Can you fucking believe it!” He yelled at the ceiling, rocking his head back and leaning back as far as the ‘chair’ would allow. He kind of wanted to kick something. Or bite something. Preferably Tommy.

The on-screen display ticked the [4] minutes and he closed it dejectedly. If Tommy wasn’t showing up right on time, he wasn’t ever going to show up. What kind of excuse would he give, Wilbur wondered. He hoped it was at least elaborate enough to make up for his rapidly plummeting mood.

Hopefully at least the voice will chat with him later today.

...

Today was shipping day, the anti-Christmas as they (as in he, and absolutely nobody else) called it. The day where all of those rock-dust filled capsules had to be packed into the homeward bound shuttle, and where he had to spend fourteen hours scrambling over boxes and completing checklists in making sure everything was properly labeled and accounted for and the rockets weren’t about to blow up and destroy millions of dollars worth of raw material (and maybe also him). And then after that he got to spend another four hours filling out more forms to pack with them asking for the higher ups at home to maybe please send some more mining equipment, and also food?

Shipping day fucking blows. If it weren’t for the voice intermittently coming in and keeping him company (and how weird is that, how can a hallucination keep you company?) during those long and backbreaking hours he might have just given up on even writing the worker-products request slips and slept for two days straight. As it were...

Why do you need to request for food?

“Well, voice in my head,” he said as he tugged at his foot, which had caught itself between two 600 pound capsules that bobbed around like balloons in the null gravity and might just crush him by their sheer inertia, “If I don’t put in the request then they can’t have enough ready to send back next time they send the delivery shuttle. And if they don’t send enough then I’ll have starved to death before the next one can arrive.”

That is silly. Isn’t the sun bright and beautiful from out here?

“I can’t exactly eat the sun, and no. This is pathetic compared to a summer’s day back home.”

Can you tell me about summers?

“I’m probably not the best person to answer, given I had them in England, but I can try.” The foot came free, and he hurried to keep the capsules from drifting too far with a couple of tether cables that he attached to the inner carapace of the delivery shuttle.

Thank you Wilbur.

…

With the shuttle barely another glimmer of light to hide among the stars, Wilbur couldn’t help but stare out at it. That was the only way home, before his tenure was up at least. With each shipping day come and gone, the desire to huddle himself and a couple of tanks of oxygen up in the spaces between the capsules and try to survive the two month journey back to the nearest meteor processing center grew more enticing. As if he would ever survive the trip, without suffocating or getting crushed by one of the shipping pallets or running out of food.

Besides, this paid good money. He needed to keep reminding himself of that. Money was hard to remember when he had nothing to spend it on, after all.

He tried to squint at it one more time, just one more before he would go and finally get his much-needed rest, but his tired eyes drifted and he found himself watching one of the smaller asteroids that orbited far off. It glittered slightly in the weak sunlight, and it was close enough that he could see it tumbling very slowly end-over-end.

He stifled a yawn, about to turn and leave, when he detected the faintest movement from the meteor that wasn’t consistent with its orbit. He was abruptly awake and aware, squinting as hard as he could at it. There was something… dark, cast against the surface of the meteor. He could barely see it stretch into the void above the meteor, but with the blotting out of a nearby star he could almost see… wings?

Wings, like the ones he had seen that one night so long ago, a shape that seemed more at home flitting around in the Earth sky than the darkness of empty space.

He hesitates before, in a feat of exhausted reasoning, he waves an arm at it as if he were hailing a spaceship.

Hello Wilbur!

He froze mid-wave. Did the voice in his head just…

The shape on the meteor changed slightly and, against the deep blackness of space he could almost see… an arm? It must be an arm, but of impossibly large size to be seen from so far away. It mimicked his wave.

“Is that you?” He asked, immediately feeling dumb about it. Probably visual hallucinations again.

(But… He had seen the wings before…)

Yes! I have come to live closer! What was the small flying thing?

His arm dropped to float in the zero-gravity air, his heartbeat suddenly pounding hard and fast in his ears. The voice was real. There was something out there. Was it aliens? Was he first contact with alie-

No. He had to take this logically. And the logical thing was that he was just having an exhaustive hallucination because he just spent an entire day doing hard work, both physically and mentally.

He needed sleep.Without much fanfare, he located the nearest decently soft surface and collapsed on it as much as one could without gravity.

Ok Wilbur. I’ll be here when you wake up.

…

And it was still there the next time he woke. Inexplicably, there was a dark shape upon a nearby meteor that was utterly unexplainable. That is, unless it was…

Hello again Wilbur!

“That’s you.” He pointed out at the shape again.

Yes!

The voice sounded a little bemused, and he realized he had probably asked that question already. He still had to ask it again. “Are you sure that is you? And not some… other… space… thingy?”

The voice actually laughed, less a sound and more a feeling that fluttered around the inside of his skull like a trapped bird.

It’s only me Wilbur. I think I would know if there were anyone else.

He was half way into eating a bowl of something he would be generous and call scrambled eggs when the uncertain calm he had been feeling upon waking up breaks like poorly-made glass. He’s conversing with an alien, who is not a hallucination.

“Holy fuck! I’m talking with an alien!” He cried aloud, because why not, he’s already being pretty pedantic this morning.

Another laugh, gentler.

Can I come closer?

“Oh, of course you can!” He was up and out of his seat, letting the spoon spin freely in the air as he swung towards the window and peered out desperately. Like a kid in a candy store, he laughed to himself.

The shape on the meteor moved, and to his amazement grew closer. And larger.

A lot larger.

As it approached one of the closest nearby meteors that took up large chunks of the ‘sky’ for Wilbur, he could see it was easily able to dwarf not only him, but probably the entire base he lived on and all of the machines that swarmed it.

He was panicking now, something animal in him violently rejecting the concept of something inhumanly large and dark flying towards him through the silent void of space. Before the - he couldn’t call it a voice anymore, it was an alien, it had a body - could, he didn’t know, leap from the next meteor towards his own, it stopped.

You’re scared.

He probably should be more worried about how easily the alien was able to determine his mental state, but he could only manage a nod. “Can you… stay there for now?”

Ok Wilbur.

He took a few stabilizing breaths, letting his heart settle, and leaned in closer to the window. With the alien now closer, he could see a little more of its body. For one, it was massive on a scale that baffled him. Human brains weren’t really meant to interpret such large scales, but he could tell that a living being and a crater should not be of comparable size.

He eventually calls it Sally. It says that it likes him. That he’s funny. He doesnt know why he feels so happy that an auditory hallucination that is brought on by asteroid isolation called him ‘funny.’

He mentions Sally in passing on one of his calls back home. Everyone is concerned because clearly hes having a mental break.

Finally, he starts to get desperate enough and starts asking Sally if it (now she) will come visit him. That he is so lonely and that he loves talking to her and if she was on that asteroid maybe they could see eachother? Sally laughs and tells him that she’s always been seeing him. But yes, she can come.

He’s never been so delighted and excited. This is the most energetic hes been in months, since he took this job even, maybe even beforehand.

...

Are you ready?

“I’ve been ready all morning, Sally. I’ve been so excited.”

Good. Come on out, I’m here.

He had the EVA suit on already, had been sitting impatiently in it for hours at this point. The helmet was pressed to his knees, and he now hurriedly put it on and sealed it tight. Without a second thought he checked his oxygen (2 hours, not too bad but would mean he probably would have to come in and trade out tanks a few times) and the seal on the suit. He lifted his tether rope and hooked it to his suit, and floated into the airlock. Sally was right here! Right outside the door!

He bounced from one hand-hold to another, as impatient as a small kid, and wished that the airlock cycle would just happen faster, damn it! Why couldn’t he just open up the door right away, he didn’t need this air that it was pumping out. Not when Sally was right there.

Wilbur?

“I’m almost there, I promise I promise,” he placated, smiling widely at just the sound of her voice.

The airlock at long last finished cycling, and he pushed at the outer door with a bit more force than he probably needed. Without sound in space he couldn’t hear the clang of it hitting the outer edge of its hinges’ range of motion, but he could certainly feel the jolt. He giddily scanned the dark and endless sky for a hint of those comet-light wings, the flash of red and green. “Sally?”

You have to come out further, Wilbur. I’m just a little further out.

Of course, of course. Stupid of him to think otherwise. He’s getting ahead of himself. That’s why he brought the tethers along in the first place after all. He reluctantly tore his eyes from space and, with the hand not holding onto the open airlock door, clipped the other end of the tether to one of the many hooks bored into the surface of the asteroid. He let the rest of the line run slack and, carefully closing the airlock door behind him, prepared to jump.

The gravitational pull of asteroids was minimal, which is why basically everything he owned was made for zero g. There was some pull, enough that it might eventually drag him back down, but if he jumped far enough it would be as if there was none at all, at least long enough for him to find Sally. He jumped, and felt the tether spool out behind him. 100 meters, 200 meters, 350 meters… and it caught him with a jolt at the end of the line.

Then a knot somewhere along the tether, tied with not nearly enough care by excited fingers, pulled loose. The reassuring tug of the tether back down to the asteroid was released and, with a feeling of horror, Wilbur felt himself float a little further than the 350 meters he’d been allotted. He couldn’t even turn around to grab the rope again - the knot was another 30 meters down.

He flailed and thrashed for a moment like it was his first day in space. “No!” He cried out, seeing his end of the tether whip around and curl in circles around his kicking legs in languid spirals. No air in space meant his movements resulted in no change to his trajectory, which appeared to be up and out.

So caught up in his terror, it took him a moment to hear Sally.

Wilbur! I am here. Please do not be afraid. I will help you.

Sally. Sally. That’s right. Sally who did not live inside of the asteroid. Who could help him. What amazing luck that there would be someone on the other side of the airlock who could help him right when he needed it most.

He turned himself around, automatically pointing himself towards the asteroid he had first seen Sally at and.

She was there. So many wings that burned like liquid light and soaked up the sun’s rays so completely that she became a star herself. A fish-like tail that flicked in slow strokes in the empty space, covered in scales that gleamed as bright red as the great jovian storms. A face with all of the love and kindness and power that he had grown to know of her in all of this time.

His love, Sally. He burst out crying at the sight of it.

Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur… She crooned in her head. You came out for me. You came to me. Thank you my love, thank you my heart.

He couldn’t stop the tears that messily wet the inside of his helmet for even a moment as he stared in awe and adoration at her perfect face. She reached forward with hands the size of ships to cup around him gently, plucking him out from the open space so easily.

I have so much to show you.

She opened her mouth, exposing teeth the size of moon landers and a darkness as absolute as a black hole, and he let himself be consumed totally.

…

Wilbur, take my hand. I want to show you something.

They were sitting on a boat, floating in the ocean. It bobbed gently under his feet, the scent of salt was sharp in the air. The sun was just hitting the

He looked over at Sally. She was (blonde-haired black-haired tall short dimpled freckled) beautiful and exactly as he had always imagined her. She was smiling to him, feet kicking beneath her as she rocked on the boat’s bench. Her hand was outstretched.

He took a moment to soak in the sunlight, the beautiful sea air, her beaming face, and he took her hand. She stood up, pulling him with him, and they walked over to the edge of the boat.

Look down, Wilbur. Take a look at the sea.

He looked down. The sea was dark as wine, endlessly deep, and yet he couldn’t focus on the dark depths. His gaze was caught on the tiny sediments that glittered in the setting sun’s light, the tiny silvery fish that nipped at the craggy side of the rocking boat. Tiny sparkles of light against an unfathomable void.

He pointed it out to Sally. Look at the little fish, look at the sand and tiny floating plankton. Isn’t it beautiful? She laughed so beautifully, and nudged him.

Aren’t you so silly? Those are so small and close. Do you always see the little close things as the most beautiful? I have so much more to show you.

She pulled on his hand. Encouraging him to lean forward more. The ocean was so close now -

Wilbur tumbled forward into the ocean, which leaped forward to catch him in a warm and gentle embrace. It wrapped him up and held him so closely and he rejoiced in the sheer physicality of it all. So different from the quiet, the cold, the dead feeling of space -

Space? Why is he thinking about space? He’s in the ocean.

Beside him, Sally splashed down into the water with a flurry of bubbles, and through the inherent murkiness of the sea water he could see her smile gleam brighter. She tugged him down a little more, pulling on his billowing clothes.

We need to go further down, Wilbur. I want to show you so much more than you know.

So he followed her. He kicked feebly against the sea water, pulled further down by the weight of his sodden clothes, but he wasn’t able to keep up with the strong and confident kicks of his love.

Please help me, Sally. I don’t want to fall behind. He called with a voice that shouldn’t exist underwater, watching her disappear into the darkness underneath him. Panicking, he thrashed harder, trying to overcome a lack of ability in the water with pure stubbornness.

Come here Wilbur. I’ll show you.

All around him tendrils of glowing ghostly light, like trails of phosphorescent salps, reached out of the void to wrap around him. In the heart of them was Sally, smiling ever so beautifully.

I’ll help you. Come and see.

And he was pulled down into the dark, leaving behind the boat and the bright surface and the setting sun for the endless void.

The dark was beautiful. A crystal depth that was so unlike the endless vacuum of space. He could feel that press of water around him and, even more present, that of Sally. He had drawn closer to her and her self-assured swimming rhythm, knotted in the glowing tendrils like he was caught in a jellyfish’s tangle.

She pointed off into the encroaching darkness. Look, Wilbur. Please look.

He saw.

Civilizations living and dying like sparkling plankton. Solar winds blasting out in bellows that reflect across wings leagues across. Asteroids, hundreds of thousands of kilometers apart, and yet each one like a friend and neighbor to her.

Ships passing her by like fretful silvery fish, too blind to her to hear her call, her curiosity. Drills breaking into asteroids, so different, so small…

Her, perched in her asteroid, her nest in this oceanic astral life of hers, reaching forward to see if she could catch the tiny krill that live and die in those tiny glass and metal bubbles…

A small creature, barely a copepod, planktonic in his powerless tumble through the tides of the universe, reaching back. He sings so sweetly in his tiny tones, finding a fraction of the beauty in the universe that she experiences every day. And yet, those tiny reedy tones, things that only she could hear and which would never echo unending across the galaxy in gravity-distorting tones, were precious gifts in of themselves.

She reached out and plucked him from his metal habitat, careful of his fragile body not meant for such depths as what she lives in. He sees her, and she carefully takes her little gift back with her to her asteroid.

Something just for her. A song with notes that are so very small.

A song that can only feel the edges of her own tones without being drowned out entirely, for she does not want him to have to yell in order to be heard at all.

Wilbur, little ballad-maker, will you sing me another song?

He spun in the reassuring pull of tentacles around him, and in the voice of one untethered from simple vocal chords, Wilbur sang of the majesty of the stars.

...

Wilbur awoke with tears crusted thickly on his cheeks. All around him was a tight and dark warmth, not in the darkness of space but of something comforting and living. The darkness of an overturned log, lush with life, rather than that of an endless cave system.

“Sally?” He managed, croaking out through a voice that had splintered in every direction. The pressing warmth around him held tighter, like a crushing hug that he had so dearly desired for so long. He let himself melt under the sensation, the warmth that sank into his bones for the first time since he had left Earth, the softness that he had been so devoid of in the sharp grey walls of the asteroid mine.

His body apparently still had tears to give, as when he leaned back into the softness even more he could feel his vision slip out of focus behind a film of tears in the warm orange light.

Wait. Light?

He blinked furiously and, with enormous willpower, leaned up and out of the cozy comfort that cradled him. Held in his hands, pressed against his chest in a dense hot ball that was dampened only slightly by the EVA suit he was still wearing, was what looked to be a tiny star. It shined and glimmered with vermillion, and even as he watched it the glowing ball shifted.

It was alive.

Carefully he held it closer and could feel, beneath the obscuring bright light, limbs press against the suit and a head tuck into the side of his suit’s life support control panel. He didn’t realize he was holding on so tightly to it until that moment, and he didn’t have the willpower to let go.

Wilbur? Her voice almost... echoed, like it was bouncing off of the endless cavern that resided within her.

His head popped up automatically, and he smiled on instinct. Sally!

Do you trust me?

With my life, my love. Where are you? What’s going on?

Remove your helmet.

But… wouldn’t that, y’know, kill him? Last he checked he was on the wrong side of the airlock, the endless void of space. Though, it was warm and soft and oh so comforting, so different from the death that had always been promised by its endless expanse.

You said you trusted me. I will keep you safe.

His grip loosened on the star held against his chest, and drifted up to his helmet. With barely a thought he broke the seal on it and the air rushed out in one fatal blast. He should’ve been unconscious in less than fifteen seconds, oxygen starvation quickly turning his brain off and sending him into a downward spiral towards a cold and lonely death.

He couldn’t breathe, there was no air but the wispy remains of what was in his suit’s tanks, and yet… wherever he was, it didn’t matter.

I told you so.

Yes, she did. Why did he even doubt for a second? He tried his best to wiggle out of the EVA suit, which was definitely not built to be wiggled out of. He made do with awkwardly freeing his arms so he could better cradle the star that was now lying more comfortably against his chest. It seemed to solidify further with the skin contact, and he could see a muzzle of a soft earth animal, a swishing tail, large eyes that shined like quasars.

He hugged it close as much as he could. “Sally?” He called again.

Do you like them? I made them for you. A child.

“A child? Ours? They are… They’re beautiful.” It was ridiculous, and some part of his brain seemed to slip out of the elated state it was caught up in. “Wait. A child? Like, one of your kind?”

Not quite. Almost, though. I want them to be able to live with you, not out in the stars like I must. I want something from me to always be with you, even when we are apart.

A thing made of star-stuff and scales and human flesh, something that could only have hatched in the close warmth and suffocating darkness, rather than the endless depths of space. A planet-creature, not a void-creature

Wilbur names him Fundy. As he gives him a name and continues to cuddle him close, his shape becomes more and more solid, more and more a creature of the earth.

Sally’s stomach is, as he begins to adjust more and more to the soft light, more like an entire crater, an endless expanse so large that he nestled quite comfortably within one fold. As he watches he can see dust and rock disintegrate in the far sides, lumps of metal and plastic that are all that remain of 9-Metis mining station, having been carved from the asteroid and chewed up for having deprived Wilbur so much, knowing to the depths of his heart that he is in no similar danger.

He knows he could live here forever, safe and protected and so very close to Sally’s heart.

Sally starts to feel unsure of herself as a result, realizing that what Wilbur needed far more than her love, her coveting of him as a most precious jewel, was his own people. His mind had splintered in a way, becoming reliant on her own to keep its shape, and even as it leaked song and light for her to enjoy she knew that if she truly loved him she needed to bring him home.

She asks for one last song from him, dancing with him in a dream. He is far enough gone that he cannot tell just how bittersweet the dream had become around him, wrapping him up in pain and love in equal measures.

We are almost there.

Sally seemed sad. Why was she sad? Where were they going? He didn’t know if he said it aloud or not but Sally seemed to hear it nonetheless.

I need to bring you home. You miss your family.

But what about you? Sally, I cannot miss them when I am with you.

And that is why.

What is going on? Wilbur pulled Fundy closer, quietly shushing the small child as they nipped at the loose fabric of his EVA suit. Did he do something wrong?

I’ll miss you Wilbur. Thank you for letting me

No… no… Sally was leaving? No no no this cannot be happening. He didn’t want to leave. Please don’t make him leave he doesn’t want to leave he refuses to leave -

The warm cradle of muscle around him flexed and hardened into steel, and the comforting press turned claustrophobic. What was once endless and magnificent closed around him like a cave-in, and he yelled into Fundy’s fur and curled into a tight ball that Sally forced him into. There was a terrific yank feeling as the tether cord that he had long forgotten went taught and dragged him upwards, tangling and knotting around him.

He felt the frigid cold first, less from a temperature and more from a lack thereof as the warmth and protection Sally gave him dissipated, then the crackle of drying spit that held him in a tightening shell. He blinked open eyes and uncurled as he was tangled in the tether cable and caught in Sally’s outstretched hands. Without the protection of a shaded helmet he could see her even clearer, the tiny scales larger than his outstretched palm dappling her face, the hundreds of lacey wings that were thicker than the toughest skyhook cable spiralling out from her in long strands into the enormity of space. Compared to her, the 320 meter cable that had seemed so sturdy was like a strand of spider silk.

He’d never felt so small, not even when he had been all alone in the void. Somehow, it seemed so much larger when he got to see someone who truly belonged out here, someone for whom these endless pelagic open seas were home.

He didn’t belong out here. That’s why Sally was making him go.

Fundy whined inaudibly in his arms, the sound echoing on the inside of his head, and pushed their snout under his head into the crook of his neck. He held them closer to hide his shivering, the despair that had burst inside of him and threatened to swallow him whole more absolutely than Sally had.

I will miss you. I won’t forget you. But you cannot stay with me.

Don’t go! He wanted to scream it, to try and pry open Sally’s mouth and find somewhere to curl up in within her, where it was dark and he knew a glimpse of the true universe, but whatever was allowing him to stay unaffected by the vacuum of space didn’t seem to extend to allowing him speech in the void. Please don’t let me go, please don’t leave me out here, I need you.

Sally looked sad, in a quiet way that shivered up through her wings.

You need to be with your people again. Please take care of Fundy. Raise them well.

She oh-so-delicately untangled the cable from her hand, pinching the loose folds of his EVA suit gently and letting him drift in zero-g. He kicked as much as he could, but he couldn’t truly flail and try to keep a grip on her hand without letting go of Fundy, which he couldn’t risk.

Sally’s gaze finally left his, and she looked around her. Her vast dark eyes gleamed with distant stars, and her trailing light-filled fins flicked.

They are almost here. You are going to go home. I hope you live well, little Wilbur.

Before he could try to shout out something, anything to beg her to stay or at least say goodbye in return, all of the enormous wings on her bag expanded, and she flicked her tail and sank into the darkness again. He tried so hard to follow her form as it moved quicker than any ship he had ever seen, but his panicked flailing had left him in a rotating drift that made him unable to keep his eyes on her.

And then, like an unwary fly on a long highway, he smacked bodily against the front of a cargo spacecraft.

Hes brought aboard, seemingly miraculously still alive despite being hundreds of thousands of miles from Metis, and to his surprise its his family. Sally had brought him close enough to them that he is reunited immediately.

He can’t stop holding close to fundy as hes asked how exactly he was there, what happened, they heard something happened to the station, is he ok?

All he can do is cry, heartbroken about Sally.

#spacefish au #my fics #soft vore #sfw vore #mcyt g/t #mcyt vore #vore fics #beta fic

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hopalongfairywren · 9 months

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for once im relevant to this discussion! that bug is probably due to the ao3 default site skin having issues. if you don't know what a skin is (generally people that arent me don't lol) it's a feature on ao3 where you can change the color, shape, and general look of the site. i've had one i made myself which is a dark mode one that curves all the panels for about a year now. anyways went to try the default skin and see if it was doing the same thing, and it was, so it's a sitewide bug. i expect it'll go back to normal when the people who make the professional skins notice it, and even if it doesn't you can probably find or even make one with the original colors. hell, i could make one with the original colors given the hex codes and half an hour. in summary, even if its that way forever on the official skin there are ways to change it back with custom ones! sorry for the rant, i just really like this subject :)

That's cool. I really do hope it's a bug and i'm not rightfully paranoid about some god awful layout change. I've been on tumblr too long. But it's not just the filter bar that's weird

above the search bar there's black text that says search works that is also really bothering me. Can that also be explained by a glitch and fixed?

#thanks for the ask!#the wren calls #ao3 #archive of our own

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peachybeancinema · 3 years

Text

Week 1

Exercise

1 film that’s stayed with me and remembered. The Secret Garden, 1993, dir. Agnieszka Holland.

Cinematography wide shots and beautiful establishing shots, opening shot is a lone girl that can’t clothe herself, left in dead centre with lots of space around her, the closeups of hands feels very innocent and intricate- they feel like a soft, innocent female gaze.

Lighting contrast between the stale dark inside and the light garden

Editing not noticed so much

The script, partly cheesy cause it’s about children trying/forced to grow up too fast, and a period like flick

Production design, old timey and frilly, but oh boy their green set designer went OFF 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Tone, lonely and hollow to a slow burn hope

Theme….

theme? Did it speak to me? Yes, the absence of parents- chosen to or not, running around finding wonder, kindness and strength in a garden

How did I feel? Loved and seen- a lost and lonely child that internally begs for love but has an inability to regulate her emotions- Collin too!

What kind of film would I like to be a part of HORROR or like something that can incite hope and make all types of children feel seen

EXERCISE 2

Director that inspires me: Gia Coppola

Resource on their process: ‘everything was trying to reach out to as many people as I could.’ Many of them stayed at Coppola’s mother’s house during filming. “I would drive them home after work and we’d all have dinner,” Coppola says, “It was like camp. I loved it.”

https://www.google.com.au/amp/s/www.washingtonpost.com/news/arts-and-entertainment/wp/2014/05/09/gia-coppola-talks-directing-james-francos-palo-alto-and-the-pressures-of-her-last-name-qa/%3foutputType=amp

https://www.google.com.au/amp/s/www.vogue.com/article/gia-coppola-palo-alto-personal-style-and-james-franco/amp

Notes on script:

Does the camera show that she’s dead?

When do we learn that she’s dead- same time as him or before?

Rewrite in program with proper formatting

Week 3…

I was able to get together with a crew member and get the new draft of the script done. I have a bit of trouble understanding sometimes how to properly structure a script after coming from a book writing background, so I was really thankful that she was able to help me understand even better. The feedback from previous classes has centred around its general ‘look’ as a script and whether the viewer is in on knowing that Alexis is dead, and from the strat I’ve wanted the audience to know to further their distaste towards Ross, otherwise the audience could say ‘well hey I missed it, I get why he did’. Her choking will take place on camera, close up, so we can watch her leave us.

Week 4…

Getting ready for the pitch has been a huge mental struggle for me, but I keep holding onto the idea of actually making this film and that definitely gets me into our team meetings on the days it feels impossible. I’m already so happy with the crew and their thoughts and contributions, but it doesn’t kill my anxiety of presenting. I feel like the script is at a good point based on feedback, so when we presented and the main concern was finding a production designer, I felt immediate relief… okay we can tackle that. There is a pressure I’ve found quite uncomfortable so far in my journey in this class, and it’s even after filling the crew roles, a certain student not even in this class has become quite intense in getting involved as camera operator despite that role being VERY explicitly filled. I plan on keeping polite but firm, but god why should I have to?

Week 5…

So… despite the previous week's tiny rant of someone trying to vulture a filled role, our original DOP is now the 1st AD and someone else within our crew has taken on DOP, a choice we were actually all really content with. A search for a production designer continues, but we have to focus on scouting our potential Ross and Alexis. Unfortunately none from the team- including myself, could make it to crewing night, however, another student pitched on our behalf. The main goal is to obviously fill the production designer role, so fingers are crossed in the meantime. There was no class this week so I definitely spent the week taking care of myself and finishing off my slides for the pitch for next week, and I’m pretty happy with my slides and that most in the crew have stuck to the same aesthetic through the slides (minus points for memes).

Week 6…

Pitch week, so I’m ill with anxiety for it, but nonetheless, meds taken, train caught and standing before the panel. After the comments from the panel on how it very obviously pulls away from the serious nature of content, I was pretty bummed I didn’t just quickly delete people’s memes before the pitch. Overall I felt pretty good about how it went, but that’s only because that’s how my crew told me to feel about it. My anxiety was so bad while presenting, that I blacked out. In moments of intense anxiety I will disassociate entirely, I know I spoke, but I know nothing that I said or that was said to me. This is an incredibly frustrating process for me, especially because I have had to rely on my crews memories on the pitch, which definitely doesn’t feel fair. They assure me we are on the right path, and just that we should get a move on with casting. Still no production designer.

Week 7…

Mental health and substance abuse are taking a bad turn this week and it is affecting how easily it is for me to communicate effectively with my crew. I won’t be able to open messages or even show I’m online out of fear of disappointing and giving wrong/no answers. I feel entirely overwhelmed and I can feel myself falling behind. There’s still no production designer and at this point I’m willing to do it because I fear it’ll turn into a shit show anyway. I have been experiencing the worst internet from home and it’s been making getting anything done when I’m finally mentally available, impossible. I’m tired and as much as I love this script, I just want this trimester over.

Week 8…

This week for The Silent Treatment, we’ve been taking a look at Producer Sina’s Starnow casting calls for both roles, as well as looking at AirBnB’s for possible locations, which has lead to playful but extenuating bickering on the dop and producers part over ‘apartment or house’, which honestly, it’s quite easy reigning them in when they get a little too passionate. But I’ve actually found their bickering and passionate opinions on options for the film and helping restore my own fight for this film too. We have a few meetings coming up over our discord and we’ve been polishing up our previous presentation slowly.

Week 9…

We’re cutting down through our pickings for actors as well as getting excited over the possibility of taking James Lewis on as production designer. He actually appears to listen and understand quite well and he’s always writing notes in his book for props and decor. I’ve shared my ideas and I’m hoping he can fulfil my needs. This week was a really difficult one for me mentally (big shock and huge surprise) so I’ve actually been trying to make a plan to stay well and that’s by putting together a rehab stay, a huge and terrifying step I’m still not sure I’m going to actually take.

Week 10…

I’ve lost all of myself and my motivation this week. A rehab stay is officially scheduled and I’m afraid and trying so hard to reignite my passion for film and my own words and stories, but I don’t think it is worth it. I know I’ll look back in a week to a few weeks and struggle to understand why I hated my work so much, but I think when you hate you, everything you touch looks disgusting. I’ve been incredibly fortunate for my friends- some on my crew- and I’m INCREDIBLY fortunate for the crew members that don’t really know me from a bar of soap being exceptionally soft and kind with me during my low period. Knowing my team are such lovely people is actually a much better reason to get off my ass and do this- for them- not for me and my silly story…

Week 11…

We finally have short listed actors AND location and now we have those last auditions to wade through. Internally I definitely have decided on my location and actress, but for the male actor I’m not so sure yet. One guy auditioned and while he played it quite well, it was his in between chats that had me slightly off, as he kept feeling the need to drill in that he isn’t ‘this guy’, which of you arent, you don’t feel the need to tell everyone, which is why I’m keen to give another actor a whirl and see where to go from there. My fashion designer friend is still keen to make the scrubs and we’ve all worked out a decent pay for her services- I love bringing friends from other art disciplines into my films, eg placing crazy art from my painter friend, decorating the sets with my friends published books and even my nursing friend belinda wants to give me a bunch of medical supplies to set dress!

Week 12...

Big pitch next week and I’m terrified- how can I actually feel so prepared but terrified. The last male actor to audition BLEW me away and I felt a real chemistry when talking to him between the breaks which means I’m really looking forward to directions BOTH actors, as they’re super lovely and open and very relaxed to speak with! Location is LOCKED and I couldn’t be happier with the pick made! We just keep polishing away at the presentation, and yes, the memes are still coming out of the woodworks...

Week 13…

I'm not angry over the pitch, but I wouldn’t say I left happy… some of the ‘criticisms’ felt so empty and UTTERLY devoid of actual meaning. I mean, and I’m sorry, but this script was the same script written 1 year ago. No changes were made because I didn’t receive criticism through these weeks to do so- sure structure of the actual script itself changed but the scene where he imposes himself in her space was ALWAYS there, and I know the lecturers can have a lot to remember, but DO NOT ever say ‘this part wasn’t always here’ and ‘no I think we would’ve noticed’ had me boiling. It’s important to not talk with so much confidence in these kinds of times, as we all can forget things, but to stand and tell someone what they wrote and didn’t write in front of a crowd of people in higher positions than them, that’s insulting. I’m happy to take the criticisms about that ‘rape implication’ exert VERY easily, but it could have been addressed in week 1. I also do believe that younger lecturers NEED to be in these pitches, as it is a crowd of older people and senses of humour and film are changing and that should be fairly judged by a RANGE of ages.

APA REFERENCING

Gia Coppola talks directing James Franco’s “Palo Alto” and the pressures of her last name (Q&A). (n.d.). Washington Post. Retrieved June 25, 2021, from https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/arts-and-entertainment/wp/2014/05/09/gia-coppola-talks-directing-james-francos-palo-alto-and-the-pressures-of-her-last-name-qa/

Nast, C. (2014, April 4). Gia Coppola On Palo Alto, Personal Style, and James Franco. Vogue. https://www.vogue.com/article/gia-coppola-palo-alto-personal-style-and-james-franco--

#212

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michaelmilkers · 7 years

Text

things 2 read instead of killing stalking bc that Hell Comic just came on my dash again:

long exposure (supernatural gays)

tj and amal (roadtrip gays)

flowerpot (floral gays including wlw???? i hope *side-eyes eileen and petra*)

starfighter (space gays)

now for some specifics including trigger warnings And All That

long exposure by smokeplanet on tumblr aka my life as we currently know it:

enemies to friends to lovers (yall can pry this trope from my cold dead heads)

tfw u get stuck w/ ur childhood bully on a science project and Shenanigans Ensue i.e. accidentally coming into contact with what might be radioactive waste, being left with some bitching new powers and also very gay feelings

diverse cast of characters (race, body types, etc) from different backgrounds (including a juggalo and i thank the lord every day) and bud. just,, bud. u will love bud.

trigger warnings: none that i can rly think of???? theres use of the f slur once but its censored if im remembering correctly, theres a single nsfw page but its like two panels and no bits r shown

at the time im posting this the latest update was the gayest one yet so get ur asses reading

bonus: the main characters have their own blogs ( @bitchell and @jonaslights )which you can interact with and as far as i can tell occasionally the things they post r hinting to future happenings so eye emoji

the less than epic adventures of tj and amal by e.k. weaver aka My Life Is Different Now after reading this

amal calls off the wedding of him and his soon-to-be-bride bc He A Gay in front of his family to a very negative reaction. he needs to make it cross-country to his sister’s graduation but has basically lost his way there bc tensions with his family r high. in comes tj. shenanigans ensue.

interacial gay relationships can i get a Hell Yeah (chorus: hell yeah)

literally 500 pages of laughs and gay and sweet character development and gay

trigger warnings: amal’s homophobic family, heavy references to drugs, slight references to abuse, sex scenes !!!! all nsfw pages are marked however and arent plot-necessary theyre just a treat :3c

i need yall to read this i am literally a changed man

the ending will fucc u up

flowerpot by leehama on tumblr aka love me some goddamn plants

in this universe there have been outbreaks of the fleurine virus, a disease that causes flowers to take root in the body. sometimes its relatively harmless (flowers growing from the scalp) but other times it can be deadly (flowers growing inside the ears or the wind pipe)

people with the fleurine virus r called flowerpots

super diverse cast wtf!!!!!!

as far as i can tell (im srsly hoping) its not just a m/m relationship. i mean thats the main one obv but a budding w/w background relationship is heavily implied and im Excite

what i love abt this is not only does it address disabilities (recovering flowerpots r sometimes left with disabilities when the flowers r removed) it addresses social discrimination and stigma that stems from misinformation and kinda reminds me of hiv/aids (idk if this was intentional but!!!!!!! addressing stigma surrounding diseases!!!!!!!!! CAN I GET A HELL YEAH)

trigger warnings: there are people who r anti-flowerpot who do things like put up shitty anti-flowerpot flyers which i know can remind people of irl bad things but yeah thats basically it

this is so cute?????????? it addresses things like disability and disease in a super cute way thats easy to understand also the characters r gr8

starfighter by hamletmachine (not hosted on tumblr but the author is on tumblr under the same name) aka WOWEE IM GAY

this is like. the most yaoi-ish out of all of these comics but It Gets Better pls trust me

gays in space??? hell yeah????

ok so theyre like fighting this war and there r fighters and navigators and each fighter has to be paired up with a navigator and Yeah It Gets Gay

its not in color and all the characters have code names so its kind of hard to tell what race everyone is theyre all just light skin or dark skin but im gonna give it the benefit of the doubt

REALLY NSFW WOWEE

trigger warnings: its kind of abuse-y at the beginning but pls the art style and the characters has gone through so much development. i understand if u rly cant deal with things like that but if u think u can stick it out please do the payoff is worth it

again this comic is rly nsfw. like its not all sex but there is A Lot and there isnt rly any way to avoid it so like. this is what ur getting and if ur alright with that then go forth and read

also all of these except tj and amal r incomplete in case that wasnt clear

anyways YALL CAN SUPPORT INDEPENDENT AUTHORS AND LGBT FICTION WITHOUT BEING CREEPY FUCKS. you can EVEN HAVE SEX COMICS WITHOUT IT BEING ABT ABUSE AND RAPE (SHOCKING I KNOW) ur literally having ur cake and eating it too rn like???? cmon

#long exposure comic #flowerpot comic #smokeplanet #leehama #tj and amal #the less than epic adventures of tj and amal #e.k. weaver #starfighter #starfighter comic #hamletmachine #long post

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scarletrebel · 7 years

Text

a thing about rw.by

this is a whatever. not a meta or a theory or really a well-thought out critique. if anything I guess im just voicing my frustrations. if you like rw.by, please, please dont read this. you wont like what i have to say and i am in no way looking to upset rw.by fans, i just need a good old fashioned shout into the void. theres some things i liked in here too that actually came out whilst writing aha, so its not all my bullshit.

my main gripe with rw.by at the moment is the lack of character development for ruby rose. you know, the main character? which i think is the reason why my heart breaks a little that i dont love it as much as i used to. i identified so much with ruby. a little girl with a heart too big for her brain, who just wants to protect and help, having to come to terms with the fact that the real world doesnt make noble goals like that easy? thats my childhood right there.

the latter is something that hasnt been touched on as far as ruby rose’s character development goes until this season, and even then it hasnt really been touched, or lightly brushed, its been mentioned. ruby thought saving the world wouldnt take that long, that the world wasnt as big as it is; she apologises to jaune for dragging jnpr along with her. all INCREDIBLE MOMENTS I was really happy about, but they werent expanded upon. it was like the writers wanted to hit a checklist of ‘make sure the audience knows ruby is naive and sad but hopeful’ rather than making it more engaging to learn about as aspects of her character, which is just lazy storytelling.

show, dont tell. they’ve done that with juane. they’ve shown that he’s upset about phyrra’s death, they’ve shown him get mad at the situation and with qrow. he’s never outright voiced these things about his character like ruby has about herself, and we all knew she was a little naive. season one, weiss accusing ruby of being a bad leader and them showing the audience ruby trying to get better was so much better than just having her be like ‘im a little naive but ill fight for the greater good!’ like she has so blatantly been this series.

like, why would she not get mad at her own uncle for keeping her in the dark about someone wanting to kill her?? ruby’s what, 16 at this point? 15 at the least? would she not at least be a little bit annoyed, and would that not show some character growth on her part if she was? my naivety ended, personally, when i stopped trying to be so dang optimistic, (this can become more complicated to explain, as obviously you still have to have hope in the world while keeping a level head and ruby is still young, but, thats another conversation) and if that moment hasnt happened for ruby after 1. penny dying 2. phyrra dying 3. her uncle keeping important information from her 4. her sister having her arm sliced off 5. her friends being split up from her 6. nearly dying to a foe way more powerful than she is, even with her silver eyes -- then when?!

and lets just get it out of the way -- i dont fucking hate juane. i really, really like him as a character but i just fucking wish he got less of a spotlight because so much more attention is being payed to him and his journey and how everything affects him over ruby. it just is, and it sucks. i like theorising about his semblance, im pretty certain he’s really fucking powerful just like ruby is, but if he unlocks and masters his thing before ruby does i will be so pissed, and the only reason i say that is because it feels like thats the way its headed.

juane is a lovely character. he’s heroic, he’s actually quite brave and smart, and he’s a good fucking friend. he’s a brilliant support character. but for the love of all that is holy, focus more on ruby when they’re in the same scene. about how he’s helping her on her journey, why could they not have had one conversation about phyrra on screen is my question. they did it really, really well it season one, and i was very loud about the fact that no, juane doesnt get more screen time or attention, but during season four it feels like he -- like everyone that isnt ruby or the other three titular characters -- has over ruby.

just, please, rwby season five -- give ruby rose more character development. prove me fucking wrong and reveal that you were playing the long game, please.

also; i havent watched the last two episodes, but if it turns out the ‘’’cure’’’ to yangs ptsd is a new arm. fuck, man. please no. but i cant really comment on that yet so, we’ll see. i actually, up until seeing the preview for her spraying her arm and all that, really liked yangs journey. and taiyang is such a sweetheart i adore him. he was so patient and gentle and loving with yang, a few moments had me cringing but overall, an enjoyable part of the season. i hope yang gets to punch adam in the face.

blake’s journey is one ive enjoyed also. and tbh, i think sun following her and thinking she was on a personal mission to take down the white fang is a very sun thing to do, and i think blake surprising us all by saying no im not gonna do that is a very blake thing as well. sun is spontaneous, carefree to a point and very dedicated to taking down bad guys. projecting that onto blake was his mistake, and im really glad that blake is the one to voice the audiences frustrations at how annoying it is that he follows and harrasses her into taking action (even when a part of us knows that she should -- a really, really well written aspect of blakes journey actually, i really liked it) (sun really needs to have a ‘okay im being a creep im really sorry’ moment but i dont see it happening. again; prove me wrong, guys.)

blake so, so needed to see her family. im glad she could see that and im not surprised that she wanted to run under the guise of ‘resting’ like. come on blake, we all know you’re scared shitless. her characterisation was on point, probably the most out of the four girls. blake was a+ in this season and im really happy about that, come to think of it aha. i hope she gets to punch adam too.

weiss im satisfied with too, although i really wish that ironwood and her got to talking. he didnt necesarily need to save the day for her, i would think that a guy fighting her own battles -- even if it is a ‘good one’ like ironwood -- would irk her, so it wouldve been nice for them to talk. (im still fucking salty about juanes ‘you can have her’ to neptune like lmao fuck off you fucking dudebros THAT WAS SO ANNOYING anyway) weiss being able to call off the thing she summoned before it hurt the lady would be a sign that yeah she’s getting strong but she’s learning control, so. shrug.

papa schnee is an asshole, where is mama schnee?? and i FUCKING LOVED THE PLOT POINT THAT HER DAD MARRIED INTO THE FAMILY. please let this be an opening for a badass but subdued for Reasons mama schnee (although my hope is not that high)

my main, number one, OVERALL problem with rwby since the end of s3 to s4 is that they dont give the characters that need and deserve the most time and attention just that. i know its a small crew, i know that what they do and the time they do it in is amazing and admirable, and i do admire it and applaud it, they work so fucking hard and deserve praise for that. but they dont use their time wisely when it comes to assigning it in the narrative. and thats more of a writing issue, anyway.

and another fucking thing. the majority of the interesting characters that arent the main four and are alive and have been developed or made mysterious enough to warrant interest from the audience are fucking men. and yeah, no duh jade, welcome to every piece of media for fucking ever. qrow is an asshole that everyone loves, raven is probably going to turn out to be a bitch -- the majority of salem’s ‘court’ or whatever are dudes. ironwood. ren got backstory over nora. blakes dad. adam taurus. for all that i love him, fucking juane. did we learn anything about phyrra that wasnt her explicitly telling us her backstory? no. we felt sad that she died because of her connections with other people, but, lets face it, mostly juane. im still adamant that she didnt die just for him, that she knew there was a bigger picture and genuinely loved him, but from a narrative pov him and his reactions was a bigger focus point especially in the aftermath with season 4.

(ruby fucking unlocked an ANCIENT POWER BECAUSE SHE SAW PHYRRA DIE AND SHE DOESNT GET TO HAVE THE SAME EMOTIONAL SCENE ABOUT IT THAT JUANE GOT??? PLS LAST TWO EPISODES. GIVE HER THAT AT LEAST. PROVE ME WRONG.)

i remember at a rwby panel at rtx one year, when asked about making a series that has four female protaganists, the guys said that they didnt see it that way, that they were just writing a story about a bunch of kids and yeah, i get that. but its not.

its a story about four strong, tested, young women and they need to stop being oblivious to that because the narrative is fucking suffering.

end rant/

#dead dove do not eat #jadeisranting.txt #please PLEASE #DONT READ THIS IS YOU LOVE RWBY #ill probably just upset or anger you and theres no point so please dont #im just frustrated and wanting to vent its really not worth reading if you know you might not like what you read #i really dont think putting dots in rw.by is going to help but imma try #sorry in advance

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