#it is sort of rare to find a character who you cant help but root for

[pregnantsecondo]

whose the priest, who we talking about, info dump me

OSCAR !!! He showed up like three episodes ago (part 33 i think???) and he AAHDISHSOOSHODHDPDB

[fan-clan-fun]

Canon Clans Suffixes (with name changes)

Because I find it fun to scrutinize “The Sacred Texts” with a scalpel and a magnifying glass, I like to revamp little things like naming. So here’s my attempt at giving some iota of consistency to this messy world we love. My goals here are to stick to traditionalism, but also throw in some suffixes I personally love and give them meanings. I’ll also include some canon cats whose names I’ve changed to fit this system.

Lovely! Its always helpful to see personal interpretations and preferences for suffixes, everybody has a few they really like!

-claw: a skilled fighter. Classic pick. Cats who get this include Tigerclaw, Hornetclaw (Bramble-), Lionclaw (-blaze), Shrikeclaw (Ivypool), and Juniperclaw.

I see you are changing a lot of the prefixes as well! I do admit I like Shrike and Hornet as prefixes, and Shrikeclaw does seem to fit her quite well.

-cloud: a calm, easygoing cat. Also a classic. Whitestorm has been renamed Whitecloud to fit this and Tree’s clan name is Ashcloud.

-face: a particularly handsome or beautiful cat. I gave this name to Amberface (Berrynose), Tipface (Stemleaf), and Mothface (-wing)

Honestly giving Berrynose a name with the -face suffix would help to explain a lot of the stuff involving him lol. 

-fang: good fighter and good hunter. From what I heard, Sparkpelt seemed to need this suffix, so she’s renamed Sparkfang. I don’t know who else would earn this though.

-feather: a medicine cat skilled at reading omens. This is my standard pick. It also lets me keep names like Goosefeather and lets Jayfeather keep his suffix (but he’s renamed to Juniperfeather). Shadowsight also gets this suffix, becoming Shadefeather.

An interesting choice, though I am curious as to why this one was chosen (besides name consistency), what is the reasoning behind it? Do omens often come in the shape of birds? What connects -feather to spirituality?

-flower: a nurturing cat. Many cats get this name. Cloudflower (Moon-), Snowflower (-fur), Willowflower (-breeze) Goldenflower, Aspenflower (Ferncloud), Whiteflower (-wing), Daisyflower, and the one notable tom case, Rockflower (Fernsong).

Pretty standard, although I do like that you give Fernsong a -flower name. I may not have read the arcs past Omen of the Stars but he does have that reputation of being a nurturer.

-foot: a fast cat, also a classic. Spiderleg becomes Spiderfoot and Harespring becomes Harefoot.

-fur/pelt: a cat with nothing really notable about them. Alderheart, Tigerheart, and Kestrelflight become Alderpelt, Adderpelt, and Kestrelfur respectively. Bluestar’s warrior name is still Bluefur.

-heart: a cat with strong morals. Rookheart (Hollyleaf), Rimeheart (Bristlefrost), Mudheart (Hawkfrost), and Smokeheart (Cinder-) all get this suffix, as does Fireboy over here.

I am so glad that you have given both Holly and Hawk the -heart suffix, I think it really does fit them quite well. I will probably fiddle with names a bit when the times come as well for my own writing and giving these two the -heart suffix is one of my plans.

-leaf: a medicine cat skilled in the healing aspect of their job. Spottedleaf got this one, as did Speckledleaf (Brambleberry), Fireleaf (Flametail), and Willowleaf (-shine). I think they may shake things up a little with -root and/or -berry and/or -bark.

Out of curiosity, why would only medicine cats shake it up a little with suffixes? It seems like none of the other suffixes have any of the same meaning.

-nose: an intuitive cat skilled in tracking. Only two notable characters get this, Dovenose and Maplenose (Leafpool).

I actually think these name changes work quite well, and do fit Dove’s power and her abilities.

-path: a cat with an affinity for mentoring. I noticed Rosepetal had five apprentices, so I gave her the name Rosepath.

I’ve heard whispers that -path was used by some people as a mentoring suffix, which is really cool!

-storm: a cat with a turbulent disposition, also classic. Crowstorm (-feather) and Beetlestorm (Breezepelt) get this, as does Dapplestorm (Blossomfall).

I mean the suffix sure does fit those cats.

-stream: a strong swimmer. Silverstream gets this obviously. Not sure who else would get it though because I’m only including it for traditionalism’s sake. It’s not one I’m particularly fond of.

Thats interesting, Im curious as to why? Maybe another suffix like -creek or -leg would be preferable if you dont like the sound?

-stripe: a tabby with distinct stripes. Graystripe gets this and so does Honeystripe (-fern). There’s also -speck and -spots for the other tabby types

-tail: an agile cat, very classic. A lot of cats get this. Cherrytail (Squirrelflight), Birchtail (-fall), Wisteriatail (Twigbranch), Honeytail (Heather-), and a bunch of bg characters with -spring, -leap, or -flight in their names.

-throat: a skilled orator, linguist, bard, storyteller, or just a well-spoken cat. This is a very rare suffix and no notable characters get this.

So I am actually very curious about this, because if a suffix is so rare, that you cant name a cat in the series at all to have it, why is it on the list? Would any cat even remember it if isnt in use? What kind of requirements would you have to have for this suffix, since I cant imagine that there would be many (if any) teenagers/young adults who could be considered masters of speech or storytelling at the 12 moons most cats get their warrior names at. I would suggest if you want to keep a suffix on the list, it should have at least one usage in the clans, else they would forget about it. 

-whisker: a prudent hunter. I can’t think of anyone I changed to -whisker on the spot.

And here are some other suffixes I’m indecisive on.

-pad or -shade could be a stealthy cat. Even if I accepted one or the other, it’d be hard to pin down who would get this.

Personally I do think that having a stealth suffix is a pretty good way to expand a more traditional system, because its also a very useful skill. While it can be used in hunting (and some might say a whisker cat is by nature stealthy), a stealthy cat has a separate but partially overlapping set of skills. It does seem like you havent gone through all the names in the many many books so far, so I am sure there are a few cats somewhere who could have qualified for this suffix if you choose to keep it. 

Considering -ear or -eye to mean a skilled scout, but that’s overlapping a lot with -nose’s territory, so I’m hesitant in including it.

I agree with you when it comes to -nose, and since -nose already seems to be uncommon, I would think sticking with nose is sufficient. 

I considered -stone for the meaning of “a very loyal and dedicated cat”. Not sure about it.

I do like -stone as well, but unless you have a specific cat in mind I probably wouldnt include it. 

I’m thinking -pool could be for a wise cat, but I’m not sure about that.

-shine is a cute suffix, but it’s rather hard to work with because it doesn’t mesh well with a lot of prefixes. I could use it to mean “upbeat and cheerful” and give it to Briarlight, but it’s not exactly easy to work with.

-frost is an amazing suffix, but it’s sort of the opposite of -shine. It sounds good with a lot of prefixes, but it’s hard to pin down a meaning for it.

I really like -light as a suffix but dang if it isn’t a monster to work with. It has -shine and -frost’s problems, but I really like it and don’t want to give up on it.

-breeze is a pretty solid suffix, but I’m afraid it’ll be redundant. -foot is pretty solid and I can’t really change that because traditionalism. Maybe it’s like -fang? I’m not sure.

Similarly, I like -thorn and -blaze as suffixes, but they’re pretty hard to work with when you already have names that fill their niches and have the “one suffix per meaning” rule that stricter traditionalism has.

Yeah I see your concern for most these last suffixes. As lovely as they are, unless they have a good solid place in you writing, and cats you can immediately think of using for their names, I wouldnt be too worried about incorporating them into your clans.

Anyway, there’s my suffix list! I hope you enjoyed! And if you have any suggestions, please let me know because I am not bright. Thank you!

[tumblunni]

OH FUCK I THINK I FINALLY CRACKED THE CODE OF WHY I ALWAYS LIKE THE VILLAINS BETTER

Like man it always makes me so confused cos i mean im a soft AF person and i always end up having sympathetic redemption headcanons for them so its not like i like VILLAINY ITSELF but what else do all these characters have in common?

Thats it. Thats it, ursula helped me crack it.

I just WANT THOSE TRAITS ON THE HEROES

I really want a nice confident sassy funny chubby trans auntie who promotes body positivity to our young hero and always gets to say the coolest lines and get the best moments and BE LOVED FOR WHO SHE IS

And like usually whenever you get anywhere close to seeing those "villain traits" on a hero they like.. Remove all the good parts. If you have a supportive hero aunt she's always boring and generically supportive instead, and has to look like the most stereotypical boring mess ans have a super small plot role and uuuugh thats IF SHES EVEN THERE i mean seriously aunties and grandmas are weirdly less represented as mentors than grandpas who are already REALLY HARD TO FIND and again OFTEN GENERIC AND UNFUN WHENEVER THEY GET TO APPEAR

And how damn often are we allowed to have a chubby gay aunt!! WHERE IS MY CHUBBY GAY AUNT!! ive met SO MANY chubby gay aunts in real life like 90% of all my psychologists have been either that or like.. The exact same but a straight lgbt ally instead. Sassy plus size aunties are THE BACKBONE OF OUR SOCIETY DAMMIT! I've had so much help thanks to sassy gay aunts!! And like even just looking at any damn crowd scene in a normal city centre youre gonna see so many chubby aunts and long nosed uncles and all those sorts of bullshit "ugly people" that mass media pretends are ugly and relegates to One Minor Role In The Entire Cast despite them being infinately more common than supermodels and NOT UGLY AT ALL GEEZ IT PISSES ME OFF SO MUCH

I cant believe im a fuckin disney villain fan cos of body positivity

Tfw u suck so bad at making hateable people that the fandom universally hugs all your villains and ignores your boring protagonists like fuckin TAKE THAT DIDNEY

God i wanna hug hades sooo bad he just needs a friend aaaaaa

And i mean its not just disney, every damn time ive obsessed over a villain its been because they have some trait thats supposed to be "bad" but its actually good and we dont get to see it on the heroes

Like my thing with science villains in particular is that when i first played ff7 i really liked the idea of an evil minion who's a bad sidekick not just because he's "dumb" or "bumbling" but because he's actually not interested in any of the evil stuff and he works against his own boss and is like.. Friendly to the heroes, i have no particular grudge against you and i wont stop you if im off duty and all. I liked the Turks for the same reason but in the origibal ff7 translation they were kind of stoic and serious and i didnt really become as much of a fan of them til i saw them being more goofy and comic relief in some optional sidequests and then their movie adaptation. But hojo was always being all "lol my boss's plan is so stupid amirite" and had that very memorable scene where he's just sunbathing and tells you everything you need to know to get to the next thing to ruin his boss's plan cos i mean fuck it who even cares im just here to soak up some sun while fully dressed in a turtleneck and labcoat. It sucked so much that he was such a reprehensible bastard with creepy sexual assault vibes and murder and child abuse and experimenting on people and basically just NOT A LOVEABLE VILLAIN but his CONCEPT held so much potential to be filled by a sympathetic character instead...

So yeah then cos of him i kept being obsessed with finding SOME CHARACTER SOMEWHERE that actually lived up tp that potential, and thats why i was instantly interested in charon from pokemon and totally on edge waiting for the slightest chance for him to become That Perfect Sass Gramps Of Legend. And then he was indeed sassy!! And had so little screenyime that there was potential for interpretation of him as potentially redeemable cos i mean the game never said he wasnt, the game barely said anything about him at all, lol. And he was so old and small and frail looking and i just wanted to protect him!! And then that one wifi event that actually hinted at synpatheticness!! Aaaa its a recipe for a Forever Fave~

And i guess maybe it all started with my grandma being awesome and me really missing her? Cos i had shitty abusive parents and she was my ONLY good family member who showed me what love was like. And she was also basically a supervillain. Like every damn supervillain trait except being evil! She was bombastic and confident and sassy and mischievious and loud and passionate about stuff and always had something funny to say and never gave up no matter how many times she failed. And she also used all that great power for the forces of good!

So yeh thats why i love sassy good guys and i hate that often even when a sassy villain gets redeemed they seem to lose all their edge and become more generic now theyre a good guy. Or they get totally sidelined with no screentime anymore, or they ONLY get to be comic relief and dont get the full and complex redemption they deserve. Or just a lot of bads!! Its never the simplest answer of just fuckin.. Keep the character the character. Thats kinda why i didnt feel too much for the maleficent movie even though the concept itself sounded like everything i ever wanted. The character in that movie is a very different person to origibal maleficent, she's more just a stoic tsundere mumsy figure than a hammy badass iconicness. Still a nice villain redemption but it felt like it would have been better as an original story instead of an attempted maleficent. Also i wish they handled it better with the whole "true love's kiss could be from your mum instead" thing cos i get sooooo grossed out whenever i see people shipping movie maleficent and aurora! Like yes sleeping beauty with lesbians would be great but not when one of them is old enough to be her mum and raised her like a mum and changed her goddamn diapers! Also why did they have to ruin the three good fairies just to make maleficent have the mum opportunity? Like just remove them from the story if you wanted maleficent to raise the kid instead. No need to rewrite them into incompetant assholes when they were everyone's fave part of the original! Dont sacrifice the rare and elusive Good Sassy Gay Aunts!! THEYRE LIKE THE ONLY ONES IN DIDNEY!!! (Incodentally merlin is the equivelant of this to hades as the fairies are to ursula)

Also also villains tend to have ACTUAL FLAWS in stories that have a more boring bland protagonist. I wanna see the story behind charon's neuroses and how he struggles with overcoming his temptation to be bad because of greed but ultimately manages to conquer his own negative side because power of friendship and such. Thats a great character arc that provides so much more than he does as a villain where they just wasted him entirely :(

SO BASICALLY IN SUMMARY

* villains are often more complex and well developed characters with flaws while the same wroter might make shitty heroes due to the illogical fear that nobody would root for them if they werent 100% perfect and successful at everything ever

* villains are also often made as negative stereotypes of minorities and other rarely seen traits, which means its easy to reach out to them and reclaim them as a more positive version when theres literally no other options for you to cling to

* the quite common accidental sympathy factor where a villain will seem to be hated more than they deserve for their actions, ir unjustly punished so much that they feel like an underdog, since the writer assumes you'll think theyre "more evil" for being a stereotype and if you dont agree that this thing is bad then it seems like they have way less sins than the story claims they do

* also sass. Sass is good.

But basically the whole root of it is that its stupid and cruel and doesnt goddamn work when you make villains bigoted stereotypes. It just makes me love them! The only person i hate when i see a stereotypical villain is the writer who thought that was a good idea, lol. Just imagine that meme of the samurai holding the cat but its me holding all disney villains!

Also even if a villain isnt outright intentionally meant to be "this minority is bad", it can still make me symoathetic to them if theyre still something thats rare amoung the hero side in the same series. Like charon being the "most unredeemable" villain despite being the most harmless and funny and his plan being so much less world destroying than cyrus, and also he's the only grandpa villain in like.. The whole of all. And he's drawn very much in that way thays supposed to be "ugly" i.e normal grandpa, vs that weird sort of younger than he looks grandpa that hero ones tend to be because blablabla beauty ewuals goodness anti body positivity whatever. Tho actually sinnoh was good with that, they had the best grandpa professor in my opinion cos he got to be sassy too! Rowan always reminds me of auron from ff10. Sinnoh was a good game where i liked a lot of both the heroes and villains even if i still had more villain faves cos i mean pokemon is always biased towards that for me since every game has a voiceless perosnalityless main character and often theyre the one doing most of the heroing with the supporting hero characters having surprisingly little proper screen time. Thats a big part of why i loved hau gladion and lillie in sun and moon! They felt more like a real friend group than any other ones before.

ANYWAY now im just going offtopic into more "i love lots of stuff about every pokemon game" so ill stop typing now

But just basically VILLAINS ARE GOOD COS THEYRE GOOD CHARACTERS and if those stories gavethe same character a good guy role then id still love them just as much, if not more. I dont specifically like villainy, its just that my definition of a good character is often considered a bad character by lazy writers, apparantly?

Also WHERE IS MY SUPPORTIVE GOOD GRAMPS CHARON GAME AND GAY AUNTIE URSULA GIVES YOU FASHION TIPS SMARTPHONE MMO

[swampgallows]

well, so, tumblr ate my post on my phone, but the gist of what i wanted to say was that it was, of course, amazing, but i feel like... and this is kind of cheesy and embarrassing but, it wasn’t really until this year, between wonder woman and this film—the shape of water—that i felt like anything was “for me”. 

i cannot remember the last time my heart swelled like that during a film, let alone in general. in fact, i’m not sure it ever has. not in that way. this film made me understand why people care for romance films or romance itself, the appeal of it. i cried a lot. and i cried a lot during wonder woman too, but for a different sort of reason. wonder woman helped me realize i was starving to see a strong, whole woman; i had thought to myself “no wonder people love superheroes so much”. i thought they were fun, of course, but it wasn’t until wonder woman that i truly felt that kind of power, that feeling of being uplifted. it was like... hope, and protection. even growing up i never had a “hero”, as it were, not until chris metzen, and that wasn’t until i was well in my teens. i have felt like the outcast for so long that i couldnt even feel like an underdog, let alone a hero. 

it’s foolish to say what i found in the shape of water was “representation”, but... it was like a validity. it felt verified. it felt.... real. it wasn’t goofy. it wasn’t a joke. it wasn’t supernatural or one-sided. it felt very real. i did not even realize there were tears in my eyes until one fell down my face. it felt so very real to me. of course, i love all of guillermo del toro’s movies, particularly in that he engages with fairy tales—parables, too, as he had mentioned in the interview following the credits—with a reverence, an authenticity. with respect. when you accept these creatures and themes as real, they become real. but if you maintain the whole time that it’s “just CGI”, “just movie magic”; proving his whole point, when you “Other” these creatures, you turn them into things. you make them objects instead of real, believable, sentient things. and his point was that we do this to people too. “There is no us VS them. There is only us.”

and, really, on the heels of seeing Bright, the contrast between the films is stark. Bright achieved almost the exact opposite of taking these fantasy races—which are to be respected as fellow people in an urban fantasy setting—and immediately Othering them, as well as making the entire film about their Otherness. additionally, the “message” of the film is lost when jakoby is the exception to the rule, the “One Good Orc” instead of “orcs are people” (despite literally having the line “orcs are people too”, this is never put into practice). and he is even further robbed of that by ward being a bright all along instead of jakoby, or even BOTH of them. ALL the formulaic evidence points to jakoby being a bright. “brights are elves, rarely humans, NEVER orcs”; jakoby is unblooded, round-toothed, clan-less, seen as a dissenter to his entire race; inexplicably wanted to be a cop ever since he was a little kid even though there have never been orc cops and most are sent off to war; demonstrably more sensitive and inquisitive than most orcs; even the very last moment up until ward’s bright reveal, jakoby gives an entire relay of the myth of jirak the humble orc farmer, who was unblooded, who turned out to be a man of prophecy, and begs ward to go back and help tikka. “I think we’re in a prophecy!” yet ward is the bright and jakoby isn’t. fucking L. ZERO payoff. ward is a racist asshole to jakoby the entire fucking film, treats him like shit, then finds out HE gets to hold a magic wand? fuck off.

yet even bright, in all of its horribleness, still feels like it was “for me”. so, it’s strange, but, i feel like mainstream stories are... finally becoming accessible to me? it’s hard to explain. Like, there’s a reason i’m rooted in my Very Insular Interests and all that bullshit. i dont feel welcome anywhere else. of course i stick with what’s familiar, and i dont think i will ever “move on” from these core aspects of my life and personality, but... it feels like there are stories coming out that i can actually relate to, things where my interests are the focus instead of being a side character or an extra in the background, or it’s the core plot to a film instead of being a parody or, worse, from a documentary angle. “how strange this is! why are people like this! can you BELIEVE there are people who relate better to MONSTERS than PEOPLE? god, there are people who actually think this is COOL but it’s so lame and stupid and for total nerds!!! UGH, can you BELIEVE those crybaby SJWs are BEGGING for a FEMALE SUPERHERO for WOKE FEMINIST POINTS?”

wonder woman stood atop the tower, alone, triumphant, and had saved the village. and everyone looked up at her, in awe of her, full of gratitude. that shot made me think “this is why little boys want to be superman.” there was a little girl in me that thought “i wish i could be wonder woman.” something like gender shouldn’t make a difference, but what a difference it makes. i mean, there’s a reason i havent felt that feeling before. and it’s not because i have any particular affinity for superheroes or diana herself; i truthfully have very little interest in either. but that is the first time i have ever seen a solitary, non-sexual, powerful woman. even in trying to tell my mom about the shot after i saw the film, i burst into tears. 

bright was handled like shit, but the fact that the movie even got made is astounding to me, particularly because it didn’t have the “excuse” of being rooted in preexisting media. so even though the story was shit, that it was an original screenplay is HUGE to me. Hellboy II was sick as hell, one of my favorite films, and pulled off the ‘urban fantasy’ much better than bright could ever hope to, but it had the veil of being a “comic book film”, so people knew they were going in under a pretense that it would be pulp and campy. essentially, not serious. not real. already written off as “this isn’t real so it can’t affect me. i’m just turning my brain off for a while.”

i guess it’s just that... these monsters are so real to me and i relate to them so deeply that it’s almost like seeing myself, in a sense. i feel such a personal attachment to them that seeing a creature as obscure as an orc on film or outside the same realms of media (lotr, warcraft, d&d) is cause for celebration. it’s like seeing something that even vaguely references a rave; i feel acknowledged because that’s me, that’s my community, those are my people. and OTHER PEOPLE recognize that that’s me too. i remember in high school one of my classmates told me to watch the entirety of disney’s chicken little (not recommended) because it made him think of me. why? there was a split second where one of the characters (the ugly duckling, thanks asshole) holds a glowstick. that is literally it. there wasn’t even techno playing. it was wannabe by the spice girls. but even then i was still like (POINTS) ME

and i think that’s something guillermo understands, because he relates so deeply to monsters as well. and interviewers and other media outlets might take it as a novelty—oh that kooky del toro, what will he think of next! isn’t that bizarre! what a strange man he is haha oh but we love it! wow, totally trippy settings! where does he come up with this stuff???—but del toro makes sure his films convey respect and severity. He doesn’t play up these films as pulp or tongue in cheek or with any sort of bashfulness of “i know this is silly, but...” He doesn’t feel a need to excuse himself for his interests. he portrays them fully and seriously, and that gives me great courage. as someone who is constantly apologizing for my interests being too silly or “too insular” (I will never get over that haha sorry!) or too obscure or too abrasive, always being too loud or too much or too ugly, seeing my interests portrayed with genuine respect and depth always feels worthy of celebration to a degree i cant put into words. it gives me strength to exist, unabashedly, and as my full self.

i’m excited for the blockbuster bubble to burst. maybe, finally, all of us at the edges will finally get to surface. i am already seeing the little trickles.

[chekhov-and-chill]

The Great Combinator, Ostap Bender

SO SO SO SO I FINALLY GOT AROUND TO WRITING THIS OKAY HERE WE GO

    So today I would like to introduce to you the most charismatic personage in Russian literature, and my favorite character of all time. Ostap Bender is the main character of Ilf and Petrov’s 1928 satirical novel The Twelve Chairs and the protagonist of its 1931 sequel, The Little Golden Calf. What’s interesting is that Bender is, in my opinion, the main character but NOT the protagonist of the first book, while he is definitely the protagonist of its sequel. Additionally, due to several external factors that I won’t delve into right now, the character of Ostap developed very quickly between the two books, so it is difficult to discuss the two Benders as one singular character. Furthermore, out of the multiple movie portrayals of Ostap Bender, at least the two pictured above (Sergei Yursky in The Little Golden Calf, 1968 and Andrei Mironov in The Twelve Chairs, 1976) deserve separate posts discussing their portrayals of the character. So I’m going to break all this up into several posts, and for now I’ll just talk about Ostap as he is in The Twelve Chairs. Let’s start with a little translated excerpt from the book, the first appearance of Bender. 

     At exactly half past eleven o’ clock, a young man aged about twenty-eight  entered the village of Stargorod from the direction of the village of Chmarovka, to the north-east. A little street urchin ran along behind him.     “Mister!” cried the boy gaily, “gimme ten kopeks!”      The young man took a warm apple out of his pocket and handed it to the boy, but the child still kept running behind. Then the young man stopped, and, looking ironically at the boy, said quietly:     “Perhaps you’d also like the key to the apartment where the money is kept?” The boy realized the complete futility of his pretensions and dropped behind.     The young man had lied. He had no money, no apartment where it could be kept, and no key with which to open said apartment. In fact, he didn’t even have a coat…

     From this introduction, we find out three crucial things about Bender. The first is that he is broke and homeless. The second is that while he may not even have a coat, what he DOES have is a sparkling sense of irony. The third is that, since the boy assumed he would have money, Bender carries himself with such confidence that one would never guess his desolate state just by looking at him. 

     Very quickly, we find out that Bender is a con artist, reffered to by the narrator as “The Great Combinator” a man who claims to know “400 comparatively legal ways to part the general population with their money”. “Comparatively legal” is an accurate assessment of what Bender does. He does not resort to violence or outright thievery, and clearly has a code of ethics, especially compared to other characters in the book. Bender is the odd type of anti-hero that one roots for by comparison- because almost every character in the book is a caricature of certain negative traits; it puts Bender’s actions in perspective.

     But every character has some sort of motive for behaving the way they do, so what is Bender’s? Surely someone with his amount of intellect and charisma would easily be able to find a job, make money, maybe even start a family. But Bender isn’t remotely interested in participating in the monotone uniformity of Soviet life; Bender has a dream. Bender’s dream is called “Rio de Janeiro”. It should be noted that Bender’s knowledge about the city of Rio de Janeiro is limited to a picture he saw in a magazine as a child, and a few clippings from an encyclopedia. And yet, he goes conning his way from town to town with one purpose; to gather enough money and escape to Rio. Over the two books in which he stars, we come to understand that even Bender himself, on a subconscious level, understands that his dream is impossible. But it gives him a reason to live.

     After arriving to Stargorod, Bender meets the book’s protagonist (but not it’s main character; that’s Bender): a generally unpleasant but extraordinarily well-written individual named Ippolit “Kisa” Vorabyaninov. It should be noted that “Kisa” is the Russian word for  “kitty”, or, more fittingly, “pussy”. Kisa happens to be in town looking for his late mother-in-law’s treasure (sewn into one of a scattered set of twelve chairs, hence the title). Bender offers to help him with this task, for 50% of the profit. How he managed to weasel into this deal is telling both of Bender’s skill and Kisa’s stupidity. Bender quickly takes charge of the operation, and treats Kisa mostly as a burdensome apprentice.      

     As the book goes on, Bender’s character becomes better and better defined. The reader cant help but fall in love with his charisma, intelligence, sense of humor, and confidence; and as you read, you find yourself justifying Bender’s actions and clutching at any moment where he shows signs of morality (again, to be fair to Bender, few of the book’s characters show any signs at all). But at the same time, Bender isn’t made out to be the perfect “Robin Hood” that con-artist-heroes usually are. Absolutely everything he does is for his own benefit. Bender is selfish, self-obsessed, arrogant, and has no qualms about taking advantage of innocent people to get what he wants. The only times he says anything pleasant or positive is if he’s trying to charm someone into bending to his will. In simple terms, he’s a jerk. His relationship with Kisa is also interesting; Bender always treats Kisa as inferior to him, but also shows him rare moments of pity or even affection. He constantly complains about Kisa’s incompetence, but makes no attempt to teach or improve his accomplice. Bender’s treatment of Kisa winds up costing him dearly at the end, but I won’t discuss that now.

     Why does Bender appeal to me personally, other than the reasons above? Bender is one of the (sadly) few Jewish heroes in Russian literature. One of the authors, Ilya Ilf (which is not his real name), was Jewish as well. I love seeing my people represented in literature, especially if they are well-developed main characters, not minor villains portrayed with stereotypes (as is the case with many books, unfortunately). Other reasons? Bender is an icon of Russian culture; his quotes, even the nonsensical ones, are always used in conversation. You can’t NOT love him.

     Anyway, I’m positive no one is actually reading at this point, but I’ll probably continue these rants. I still want to talk about the movie versions and the sequel and all that jazz. As Bender would say, “the ice has broken, ladies and gentlemen of the jury! The ice has broken!”

[skinksprite]

At least one person wanted to read my horrible self insert fic so now you all have to suffer

So it’s just a throwaway project that I occasionally go back to every so often, and I just write without caring too much about characterization or anything (which means we quietly ignore the fact that these characters would have zero reasons to speak to me in a civil manner, we just accept it). The bits I tried to string together into a plot are on ff.net here, and I’ve linked to chapter eight, which is the point where I came back to it and it goes from your normal ‘oh cool im in a videogame!’ self insert gig into ‘reality kicks in and everything goes to shit, you’ll probably die soon’ territory. Personally I’d like to ignore everything that came before it because it takes way too long to get to the good parts, and I wrote those early chapters when I was much younger. *shrug* Descriptive blood and gore start happening in that chapter, because I had to kill a Sarafan, and then other nasty things go wrong.

Anyway have two (stupidly long) bits from this huge disorganized 17k word file I’ve got floating around still. The second bit is my favorite, it is also horrible and involves blood. Lemme know if you want more, because there’s a couple other sequences I’m fond of that aren’t properly strung together.

The weather was absolute hell. The air of the swamp was already warm and unbearably humid, making it difficult to breathe, and the downpour didn't help things. My hood was down. Water in my face was only slightly more tolerable than a soggy piece of cloth on top of my head. The cooler mud came halfway up to my knees, and the wound in my leg was screaming from the strain. If my shoes weren't tightly strapped on, they would have been lost to the sea of muck by now. It went up my pant legs and into my socks, and my feet were beginning to go numb. I had already tripped up several times in exhaustion, and I was covered in grime and my own blood, the roots and stones hiding beneath the mud giving me scrapes on my arms and face.

The sword became heavier with each passing minute, and all I wanted to do was to collapse somewhere solid and never get up.

So that's what I did. It took awhile for me to get up onto the slab of rock without tripping and hitting my head, as the wet moss made it slick and difficult to get a decent grip. The sword clattered out of my grip and almost slid into the mud, and I bumped my hand in order to save it. I laced my fingers through the decorative tassels so that I wouldn't have to concentrate on holding it any more, and sprawled out on the wet, rough boulder, desperately trying to catch my breath.

"Why" I abruptly half-wheezed, half-barked. The unfinished question was: 'Why am I doing this, why am I even here, and why can I never get enough time for a proper shower.'

Or maybe some food. Food would be nice. I'd been lamenting the loss of Adonathiel's pack the entire trip, but there wasn't enough time to go back and get it. What was important was that Vorador was ressurected, and probably teleported himself far away from the advancing Sarafan troops.

I felt my eyes get heavy. I don't think hanging upside down like that for so long was any good for me. I might have still been slightly concussed too. The only thing that kept me from fully going into sleep, was this annoying clanking noise on the edges of my hearing.

'Oh shit.'

My eyes snapped open and I immediately flipped myself off the rock, crouching into the muck to hide myself from the handful of Sarafan currently trudging in my general direction. I flipped up my hood and had to suppress a whine, as it dumped a load of watery muck all over my head and down my face. I was entirely saturated in the sludge, and it was unlikely that they would be able to tell the difference between me and another rock or rotted stump.

'I bet Vorador rarely makes the distinction! Ha!'

They passed slowly, struggling as they dragged along in their heavy armored boots.

"I don't think it was wise to leave the town unguarded."

"How so? Most everyone has moved away, and the fiend had fallen long ago."

The conversation fell out of focus, as I realized that I was slowly sinking. It was gradual, so gradual that I didn't notice it until now, but they needed to get a move on. I didn't come this far only to drown.

"What do you say we take a rest, Captain? Over there, on those rocks."

My eyes widened. I lifted my head just far enough to see that asshole pointing in my direction.

There was no way that I could adjust now.

They trudged their way over and did much the same thing that I did, their armor making it even more difficult to get a decent foothold. The Captain himself stood, refusing to sit, but the rest of them sprawled out on the rocks like basking lizards.

I heard a familiar clattering noise, and nearly jumped when I felt something sharp poke my shoulder.

"Ah, almost lost it..."

My mind screamed for me to move, to run, to do SOMETHING, but I forced myself still. I had to wait. There was no way in hell that I'm going to get captured by the Sarafan. God help me if they figured out that I'd already killed one of their patrolmen not two nights ago.

I discreetly straightened my back. It was up to my neck now.

The Captain himself seemed impatient and paced over to my side. Immediately I was yanked back down as his foot came down on the sword still tied to my hand underneath the mud. I craned my neck to keep my face above the enroaching stagnant filth, desperately trying not to make any noise while I struggled for air. I held back a gag as it crept up my chin and over my lower lip.

"Alright you lazy sods, we have to get back before sundown. Get a move on."

The Sarafan finally moved away, and my arm no longer felt like it was about to be twisted off.

The soilder above me sighed and slid off the rock.

His pike was extended out to his side as he did this, and it unfortunately bumped my shoulder.

"NGHCK" I choked, immediately hunching forward and away from the blade. Unfortunately, I had just submerged the rest of my face into the swamp water, and now there were eight alert sarafan who would no doubt hear me if I came back up for air.

I wrestled with myself to keep still and slow down my heart while they looked about, unable to find me.

"We should get moving. It was probably just some swamp creature."

They thankfully slid away and out of sight through the curtain of moisture, and I scrambled up out of the muck, gasping for breath. My shoulder was burning horribly, and I could feel the hot blood seeping into my already wet clothes, mingling with the horrid swamp water.

I needed to get somewhere dry, and soon. Lord knows what sort of terrible diseases were lingering in the water here, and the massive gash in my shoulder was already saturated with it.

The only good thing about this encounter, was that I knew that Ushtenheim was close, and that there wasn't anybody there.

The trek up the mountain paths were just as terrible. It was no longer raining, but it had gotten slightly chillier, and the stones were still slick. I'd left a trail behind me for quite a while before the mud finally dried, but I was too exhausted to care. It was literally an uphill battle. I was thankful that there was an actual path  up there, and that I didn't need to have spiderman powers to scale walls.

Amusingly enough, when I looked closely at them, there were little rounded indents in sets of twos and threes. It was a five hundred year old approximation of 'Raziel was here'.

I stirred beneath the sheets in the old bed, and pulled the covers up higher. I wasn't sure why I was still awake. It was still in the dead of night.

I was just about done with my sweep of the library. Predictably, the older pens I'd found quickly wore out. I made a new pen out of Janos' feather, hoping that perhaps vampire feathers would last way longer than normal feather pens. I figured I'd stay for an extra night or so before I made my way back down the mountain. I knew that I'd have to get used to a lot of traveling on foot, but it didn't mean that I enjoyed it.

The feeling of being watched wormed it's way up my spine, and I couldn't go back to sleep despite how tired I was.

"Might as well continue studying..." I mumbled, crawling out of bed. I really can't make this a habit...

The aerie was freezing at night. I struggled to control the shaking in my writing hand, despite the roaring fire I'd set up in the fireplace. I cursed as I nearly knocked over my ink. This wasn't working.

"What are you doing here?"

I jumped and flailed a little, fumbling with my pen as I broke into a harder fit of shivers. I looked up to see the disapproving face of Vorador.

He was a truly intimidating figure, especially with the intense light of the fire highlighting his face from underneath, setting his sharp eyes aglow. His eyes narrowed when I focused a second too long on the stripe of scar tissue encircling his neck.

My tired, frozen mind couldn't catch up fast enough. I found myself hanging from his fist by my collar. His eyes pierced mine. I could barely comprehend what was happening at the moment. I don't think I ever really came to terms with the reality of my situation.

"Are you mute, human? Speak."

I made a few choked sounds in an attempt to talk through my chattering teeth before getting any coherent sentences out.

"N-no. J-just st-tudyi-ngck."

He snorted skeptically, eyeing the feather loosely clutched in my trembling hand. "Do you realize who this place belongs to?"

I fought through a particularly violent set of shivers. How the hell could anybody live here with nights like these? And this was just spring!

"y-y-Janos Aud-dron. I-I'm S-sorry if you'd exp-pected s-superstition to k-keep this place vac-cant. I was only visiting."

"Tresspassing."

"If-f it's any c-consol-lation, I'm sure he w-wouldn't want his knowlege t-to g-go to waste."

My hand went numb, and the feather fell, an errant breeze scooting it dangerously close to the fireplace. I jerked in it's direction, mentally pleading with it not to go any closer to the flames. As if in response, it inched even closer.

His fist wrenched even tighter, and I was forced to face him again. "And why would you think that?"

---------

Dismayed, I watched as the cool breeze scooted the feather into the fire, where it curled up into itself like a dying creature.

"No, wai-!"

My words were swallowed by the overpowering racket of the teleportation spell.

---------

The most unpleasant sound imaginable raked across my very being, like metal nails on a chalkboard, or repeatedly biting into something frozen that's still in it's package, the sensation painfully buzzing in my bones and setting my nerves on fire. My body wracked with spasms as I was thrown, skidding onto the floor and into a wall. My vision was made entirely of negatively colored swirls and spots, and my ears rang loudly. My head throbbed.

Apparently it wasn't quite Adonathiel's magic that was faulty. It's just that magic didn't do very well with me. Maybe it was because where I came from had no obvious magic like here.

When I regained awareness of my body, I realized I was being dragged haphazardly by the back of my clothes, like a misbehaving toddler in overalls. I winced, immediately curling my arms back into myself, trembling as the back of my hands stung from being ground against the stone floors. I had no clue where I was, it was far too dark to see.

I groaned.

"Ah, you're awake. Good. She's taken a liking to ones who can still scream."

Vorador.

"I have to stop getting myself captured."

I could practically hear his smirk.

"You're a strange one. I've no idea what sort of sorcery you've been using girl, but at the very least this will put a stop to it."

"I don't know any magic!"

I could feel the back of my shirt tighten. The collar of my shirt was starting to chafe my neck.

"Don't play stupid. It's disgusting."

"Look, it's not what I do, it's where I came from. Magic always goes really wrong around me."

"Hmn."

"What's going to happen to me?"

Silence.

I pursed my lips.

The darkness was almost impenetrable. We came to a stop, and the loud protests of a heavy metal door scraped against my senses, only heightening the creeping panic that was trying to claw it's way up my spine.

A frenzied panting echoed off the walls, and I lifted my head, barely making out two, red, dimly glowing points.

I was thrown again, into the center of the room, gasping as I felt the stitches in my back tug.

I lay there on the floor, listening.

The panting was getting closer. And closer. It suddenly stopped.

My own breathing quickened and my skin pricked with the thought of imagined horrors creeping ever closer to me.

A gust of breath swept past my ear in a deep hiss and I nearly jumped out of my skin, immediately scrambling backwards into something clammy and cold.

A pair of violet eyes, wreathed in red approached. I squeezed my eyes shut against it.

-----

I winced as a clawed hand worked it's way into my scalp. I was shaking constantly now, having been on edge and awake for... for what felt like a whole day. I think. It was a wonder I haven't dropped dead from fright. Everything made me jump out of my skin.

It hadn't killed me yet. I was like a mouse in the paws of a playful cat, battered, shaken, but not dead.

My eyes had slowly adjusted to the near pitch back, and I was capable of 'feeling' the shadows and outlines of certain things. Otherwise, I might as well have been blind. I could see it's eyes clearly though, and it served as the only source of illumination in the entire room.

I did my best not to move. Every twitch, every hitch of breath would peak it's interest. I made the mistake of suddenly scooting my foot out from under me once, and it tackled me, eager, waiting for me to move again. It wasn't as if I COULD move very much after that. My arm was obviously broken. Moving would only make things hurt even worse.

Lately it had taken to playing with my hair and scratching at my head. I clenched my jaw as an errant claw pierced my scalp again.

I began trembling as a set of footsteps echoed beyond the heavy door.

It tensed behind me, and it's claws buried themselves in my skin. A gasp of pain escaped my nose as my arm shifted.

Light and slightly fresher air flooded the musty chamber, and I had to squint to keep it from hurting my eyes.

Vorador stepped in, dragging behind him a barely conscious man.

He seemed incredibly surprised to find me alive.

"It seems Umah has taken a liking to you."

Umah? I almost turned, but as soon as the thought crossed my mind she had brought me closer to her body possessively, like a toddler holding on to a toy. I cried out from behind my teeth. A low hiss blew past my ear.

Vorador chuckled. "You are lucky to have survived this long, human. You may just come away from this with your life."

He tossed the man in and the door shut behind him, plunging me back into darkness.

Umah released me, I assumed she meant to eat the man. His painful howling confirmed my thoughts. But he wasn't dead. His cries had died down to a low moan. There was a shuffling, and then I jumped as something heavy was deposited in my lap.

I wanted to cry. The weight of a human head in your hands never quite leaves you.

Warmth slowly seeped onto my legs and I realized he was still bleeding.

I heard her growl in agitation. I was confused, too shocked and upset to think.

More shuffling, and the weight was lifted, only to be pressed into my arms. I couldn't help the hitch and sob in the back of my throat. My arm throbbed. I knew what she wanted now. Like a cat presenting a dead lizard, she wanted me to kill. To feed.

A dry sickness welled up in my gut. I licked my cracking lips, to no avail. The sides of my mouth ached from trying to produce saliva. The horror froze me, and an even more disgusting thought bubbled up beneath my despair.

I hadn't had anything to drink in almost two days.

My stomach flopped.

'How many potential mistakes can you make in a day? We knew our chances the minute we got here.'

My body trembled, and the vague dizziness that had come and gone came into focus.

I was breathing hard now, the pressure of my choice, however appalling, weighing down on me. Either drink, or get torn apart for refusing.

She hissed again, and the choice was taken from me, the man's neck forced into my face. I was overwhelmed with the metallic tang of blood. My good hand came up to the other side of his neck, feeling torn flesh. Umah didn't let him drop as I held my breath and began swallowing, trying not to taste it.

I began sobbing. The man accidentally jostled my arm as he spasmed, close to death, and my jaws clamped down, my teeth scouring new channels for the blood to flow from.

Umah finally let go, and I coughed, feeling myself dry heave. I pushed the corpse off my lap. She seemed satisfied with my compliance, and returned to 'stroking' my head, ignoring my crying. She was kneeling in front of me, that unthinking, curious look on her face, tinged with the closest approximation to a warm smile. Something changed then. Her hand retreated from my face, and the expression in her eyes shifted to confusion.

My head felt weird, and I could barely see the shadows of her eyes. It was hard to breathe. I was dimly aware of the fact that my vision was fading before unconsciousness greeted me once again.

-------

My head hurt.

'My head hurts'

"My head hurts." I mumbled. My body felt heavy, and thrummed with a vague ache that threatened to cause me pain if I decided to do anything other than existing.

Luminescent eyes found their way into my field of vision.

A low moan of despair rattled in my throat. I tasted copper, and the dried ichor on my face cracked as I immediately withered. I was still here.

"Why won't you kill me?" I whispered.

The dim outline of her features contorted as if pained. "I am sorry."

This was different.

"Umah?"

"I am so sorry."

I tried to move, to sit up, so I could speak to her face, but I was grounded by my painful headache and throbbing limbs. My hand went to grab at my broken arm, and instead of finding the bruised and swollen flesh, I instead found what felt like wood. A splint...?

"Please don't move."

I tensed as I felt her hand lift my broken arm, expecting it to be moved about as carelessly as before. I heard a tearing noise, and she gently placed my arm against me, wrapping it in place.

I saw her eyes turn away from me. A long silence followed afterward.

I took a moment to think the best I could through my pounding head. I was too exhausted to be scared anymore. It was obvious that Umah had been turned, but I never knew her to be the crazed creature from moments...hours? How long was I out? And what changed? Why does she seem so aware now? Why was she in this basement? Maybe it's what vampires were like for a while after turning? Whatever happened, she seems to regret it.

"I don't blame you." I hoarsely whispered.

"No, you should. After I-"

"You weren't yourself. It's... no, it's not fine. But I can't hold you accountable for something you weren't aware of."

"I...-" Her words died on her lips. Another silence fell over us for a while.

"How on earth can you forgive something like that?"

I sighed heavily. "I'm sure if you were... yourself, it wouldn't have happened."

"I remembered you. I don't know why, but I did. I tried to... but it was sick! I-!"

"Stop." I had to take a moment to breathe. "Don't think about it. It's over with."

The painful screeching of the door interrupted another long silence.

Vorador was there again, but he wasn't bearing another human to it's death.

"Good. You've finally come to your senses."

"Master?" Umah squinted against the light.

"Sire." He corrected, "You have the Dark Gift coursing through your body now."

I shifted on the floor and looked towards Vorador. He chuffed.

"Now that the initial phase of your transformation is complete, you may leave the basement. Finish off that poor girl, Umah, we have things we need to discuss."

Umah looked towards me. My mouth, blackened by old blood, was set in a hard line. I had no idea what to expect now.

"Sire, I owe it to this girl to let her live."

"Why? Are you indebted to her?"

Umah looked to the floor for a moment, as though caught in a lie. But when she met his eyes they were more certain than they had ever been, closer to the vampire she was destined to be.

"It's a debt that the both of us owe to her, sire. Without her help, I wouldn't have been able to bring you back."

Vorador's eyes widened in surprise. "I did not see her when I woke."

"She helped to find your head, sire. She had to leave before the Sarafan would follow her here."

He nodded his assent, finding no trace of a lie in his childe's eyes.

'I completely forgot about that...'

"Very well. A life for a life. However, I've never known of any humans who could survive in a room with a newly turned fledgling. Let alone for three days, and without food or water."

'THREE DAYS?!'

"Three-...?!"

At that I felt time catch up to me. The blood and air in my gut churned. My breath left me and I suddenly felt very winded, the sensation of lost time pressing down on me. I felt like I'd been hollowed out.

"How on earth did you do it?"

I grimaced. "Blood is at least 60% water. Rich in protien." I said quietly.

Umah's momentarily panicked face snapped towards me, and I answered it with a small shake of my head. I'd never tell on her.

Vorador's slightly appreciative gaze soured in disgust.

I sighed internally. I had a broken arm, I hadn't had anything of substance in weeks, I'd been slogging around in the freezing mountains and the damp swamp, and I'm pretty sure that the cuts on my back hadn't healed properly. I also had a stranger's blood rolling around in my gut. I fully expected that I would catch the plague and die at any minute.