#doc butcher | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lost-act · 3 months ago

Text

An Informal Analysis of Metamorphosis That I Need for School but I Can't Write Anything so I Decided to do The Old Fashion Way of Writing It By Using Tumblr and Now I Hope Turnitin Doesn't Detect My Paper Being Plagiarized or Else I Have to Archive This Post or Something...Also Using ザムザ by Teniwoha as a Basis for Deeper Understanding and Analysis of the Story

Ok so we all know Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis, right? It's a pretty surreal story of Gregor Samsa turning into an insect (no, not a roach. You're being overrated at this point). What kind of insect? Varies from telling to telling and I'd rather imagine him being a beetle of sorts rather than a roach because dear god I am traumatized of roaches.

Well, in fairness the entire ordeal of "Samsa turned into a bug" is just surface level knowledge of WHAT Metamorphosis is. The bigger picture is beyond "turning into a bug" but rather the "isolation and alienation" from the "turning into a bug". Why did Gregor turn into a bug? Beats me. That's why I'm writing this, and why you're reading this.

Basic rundown is that, obviously, Gregor turned into a bug, his entire family tried to cope with it until his father started throwing apples at him, everyone started to ignore him, Insect!Gregor dies to starvation, and everyone has started to plan on moving on.

Easy right?

WELL THAT'S WHERE WE'RE WRONG!

You see, despite the glaring lack of sources because this is just my rambles for a more professional paper, we can dig a bit deeper to this analysis of what Metamorphosis really means because so far...I'm literally on the idea of "ah yes...this could definitely mean the sense of alienation and isolation coming from a change no one asked for".

And yes I am basing this off of Samsa by Teniwoha. Yes this falls under pop culture reference for Metamorphosis.

youtube

(This is the OG Vocaloid ver.)

youtube

(And this is the PJSK ver.)

youtube

(Here's one with an EN Fanlation of the lyrics)

Yes it's very obvious as to WHY I picked this story for my analysis in college. ALL IN THE NAME OF VOCALOID- anyways.

I'll be sticking with the theme of "alienation and isolation from an abrupt change no one saw coming or asked for". Can I expound on this? I don't know because I am lowkey also basing this off of the Vocaloid song as well. Not gonna lie...this analysis might be heavily influenced by the song Samsa and the event that it was made for. Ifg the name of the event but it also references towards Metamorphosis in a way that Mafuyu's mom hates how Mafuyu changed from being an "ideal daughter" to a "delinquent child" (sounding familiar now?).

"I beg you, please don't throw those apples at me" (EN Fanlation of ザムザ)

So...where should we begin?

Right...The Author himself: Franz Kafka.

So Franz Kafka is an Austrian-Czech novelist famous for his novel "The Metamorphosis". Kafka has a strained relationship with his father, which is pretty evident as he referred to him as being "authoritarian and demanding" (Wikepedia, though this is a direct reference to Letter To His Father as well). On a professional standpoint, he worked in insurance companies which he dreaded because it took the time away from his writing (I don't blame him). It's also here that his father only sees Franz's job as a "bread job" (Wikepedia...again...trust me I'll get better sources guys) where it's basically all just for the bills. His personal life is interesting, to say the least, as it mirrors some characteristics seen in the story.

On another note, The Metamorphosis was published in 1915. What was going on in 1915? World War 1, obviously, fellow history nerds. Well...to be honest there's not a lot of context behind this because The Metamorphosis has heavy references that point towards Franz Kafka's personal life. The pressure of his father to how Gregor's job was basically to pay the debt of his father and the bills (aka being the breadwinner) mirrors to him having a "bread job". I'd like to confess I'm just reading stuff off the internet and Kafka writing The Metamorphosis in three weeks after writing The Judgement. (Sparknotes my beloved thank you). Metamorphosis took like- three years of persuasion for Kafka to get it published out and about.

Another note to take up on is Marx's theory of alienation which is basically more or less about estrangement of people from their human nature. How so? well it's a consequence due to labor division and social class...

So time for a deep dive towards Marx’s theory of alienation because this is something we need to understand rq.

Ok so basically, Marx’s theory of alienation is under ✨Marxism✨ (that’s not exaggeration because this is Karl Marx we’re talking about). The theory of alienation covers different forms of alienation (derived from this guy called Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel) which is objective, subjective, and complete.

Objective: the social world they inhabit is not a home. Could be experienced as a metaphysical fact (extentialism)

Subjective: a) world they inhabit IS a home but they FAIL to understand it, and; b) world they inhabit is NOT a home, yet they BELIEVE it is.

Complete: basically both, seen in the condition of the contemporary world

By the way I just pulled all of this out of Wikipedia so feel free to do a deeper dive because that’s what I’ll do later.

So with this out of the way, how the fuck does Marx see this? Let’s just first off say CAPITALISM right off the bat and then things will start getting obvious.

It’s here that Marx distinguishes alienated labour, specifically the alienation of the worker because of alienated labour. It’s here that it’s identified into four dimensions of alienated labor:

From product of his labour

From worker’s own activity

From species-being

From other human beings

I know I should be explaining what each of these mean, but I’m on my wits end but yeah.

(Yes I’m still referencing Wikipedia)

But overall, Marx’s alienation theory (derived from Hegel and Feuerbach) primarily takes a jab towards the capitalistic cycle that everyone’s stuck in and that those who fall deeper into it slowly get consumed by it and suffer the consequences of alienation.

[Someone remind me to write on this later or maybe organize this cuz holy shit man…talking with someone rn and like- talked about a person’s value…which is pretty interesting and something I might talk on as well because that made me realize it as well which can tie with in the new theme that my group decided on]

It's time for us to confront the elephant in the room:

What could The Metamorphosis be possibly about?

I would like to give a nod to the vocaloid songs mentioned above for being a ground base that I started building this idea from (Yes, the vocaloid songs play heavy reference towards the story to the point it had taken lines that reference events in the book).

"The abrupt change Gregor Samsa underwent caused dissatisfaction within his family, leading towards a slow descent of alienation and soon...his isolation over his surreal metamorphosis."

[I apologize for the shitty thesis statement, these things are the death of me, ngl.]

[Update: my group changed the main theme again so now we have “questioning social constructs/roles and status quo regarding labor” or something…which can also tie in to what i discussed with someone because holy fuck how did i not see that now….]

Then again…it could also be something along the lines of:

“The “metamorphosis” of Gregor Samsa resulted into a slow descent of alienation and isolation, which itself brings out the questions of a person’s “value” as a “human being” and if they have any “value” as the persistence of such alienation deprives someone of their human nature.”

(Okay, looking at it now, I think that’s way better to look at but then again I feel like we’re still not hitting any points…EH THIS IS A RANDOM RAMBLE DRAFT FOR A REASON)

Samsa's abrupt change brought about...a mix of feelings within the family. His father's disdain on him, because Gregor was basically the source of income for the house hold. His mother crying because he's turned into a bug. And his sister, Grete, who still tries to help him in some way (spoiler: she got tired of Gregor’s bullshit towards the end).

I think the fact that it's just out of nowhere and out right supernatural for Gregor to turn into a giant insect. Why is there this transformation and whatnot. Why Gregor out of all unfortunate souls???

Yet I think the reason as to why could also be a mirror to the author's own feeling of alienation.

I'm not sure if it's of any importance but Gregor does have some hobbies (woodworking) that he does on the side. Then again it's too small of a pin to try and hook something to it.

Thing is...Gregor has not broken his routine in the 5-ish years of his job so it's pretty difficult to get a pinpoint somewhere to frame on. Then looking back again to what his “value” is to his family being the sole income earner…it could be inferred that this abrupt “uselessness” in Gregor’s value after transforming has been a form of possible alienation that stemmed from the capitalistic cycle he’s stuck in (this is a very big stretch because I have yet to fully analyze the theory of alienation).

Maybe breaking it down in three parts can help our scatter brain selves cuz holy fuck we got a lot to unpack here and I have no idea if anything I'll write will make any sense because this thing is due at 5pm on a weekend.

I would also like to note that I will be doing a LOT of cross-referencing here and there

Part 1

Gregor turns into a bug

Everyone is mortified

Accidentally hurts himself in trying to run away from his now furious father

This entire "turning into a bug" ordeal is a slap on the face on the symbolism and overall theme of "turning into something else abruptly". Gregor's now a "vermin" of sorts; not just a bug, but someone despicable. He's now a "problem" for the household to deal with (though it's still unknown to WHY he suddenly turned to being a "problem" when in fact he's been doing everything to bring food to the table...I'll probs write further on this because it's very interesting).

[WHY DID GREGOR TURN INTO A "VERMIN" WHEN HE'S BEEN WITHERING AWAY???]

I find the way Mr. Samsa acted to be somewhat a mirror to the strictness of Kafka's own father towards him.

(Ok I’m awake now do yeah)

How does this relate to the theory of alienation, you ask? Well…not entirely to be honest because I said that up there for reference if I do end up saying it here but I think it can connect in a way that it isolates him from his family. Now what I’m saying is pretty much a stretch to what it originally means of “alienated labor alienates the labor from other humans” (which is more or less alienating workers from one another in means of competitive socio-economic activity). Though Gregor’s transformation does bring this thought of the discussion of human worth while they are still considered “human”.

(Actually maybe if i just remember to reiterate my points then maybe I can be more consistent)

Gregor’s worth in his family here is being the main source of income. But when he became a bug, that worth is now at a loss and that coincides with the consideration if he’s still really “human”. Going back to my previous 3 am thought of Gregor “withering away”, Gregor WAS indeed withering away because of how cyclical his life has become. His days have become rather redundant that it could be seen to suck the human-ess out of him. I guess that’s where the other part, the humanity, that Gregor has that disappeared in an instant. I find that the metamorphosis that happened here, despite its absurdity, is the most evident form of metamorphosis that happened to Gregor. What it might possibly be is still vague so I’m probably gonna try to shoot some darts in the dark here.

The alienation that occurred to Gregor is the change of his “value” in “society” (in this case, his family). This alienation led to the perception of his family towards him as “less than human” now that he’s a bug (even though it can be of literal here). Then it leads to his “isolation” where they lock him away in his room.

Part 2

Everyone locked Gregor in his room

His sister, Grete, tries to tend to him

Gregor gives everyone a heart attack

Mr. Samsa starts throwing apples at Gregor for the mishap

Ok so this is where the "alienation" and "isolation" starts to come into play, chat. First the isolation...which already started in part 1 of The Metamorphosis by locking Gregor away in his room because of his...unsightly appearance (LOOK- HE'S A LARGE BUG ALRIGHT?!). So this is where the sense of alienation starts to settle in slowly.

Grete, Gregor’s sister, tries her best to tend to him by feeding him every now and then. This then went on to her moving his stuff in his room out after seeing that Gregor has decided on roaming around as a past time as a bug. His mother also comes in the picture, though with wishing to see Gregor again. This didn’t really end well especially when they were moving Gregor’s stuff out of his room. To Gregor, he refuses to have what reminded him of his “humanity” away. He then proceeded to cling on to the framed portrait, in hopes that his mother and sister doesn’t move it away from his room. From here, Mrs. Samsa gets shocked and faints which made Grete go out to get the smelling salts. Gregor goes down from where he was to see what happened but was met with his now furious father. Mr. Samsa started to hurl apples at him, one of which landed a hit on him and injured him.

With that summary out, this slow descent into Gregor’s further alienation is starting to stem from any hopes that Gregor is still with them even if he’s stuck as being an insect. Grete’s actions lean towards some hope in Gregor’s “humanness” is still there. Arguably so, her actions are perceived as seeing the loss of “human” of Gregor since he’s handicapped.

Mr. Samsa’s response, however, is the sealing point of this alienation. He has visible frustrations in having to go back to work to provide after 5 years of being retired because Gregor took upon the role of being the income source.

Ah…I should’ve mentioned the role of Gregor playing a role towards the slow demise…

Gregor’s role as the main income source meant all expectations being placed on him to be able to pay off the debts and keep the family afloat. His “value” in his family is placed high because he’s the one bringing in the money. Though ironically, his “value” in his company is “replaceable” (yippie, capitalism) as he’s literally at the brink due to his performance. And if not his performance, he is at most replaceable.

Now that he’s basically a handicapped (BUG), his value is literally gone. I mean— what can a bug even do?

I find it here that the role his sister had of being carefree is slowly being stripped away. Gregor had plans in helping her and enrolling her into a conservatory. But now that he’s nothing but a useless bug that everyone is disgusted at, Grete has no choice but to step up.

Part 3

Everyone started ignoring Gregor cuz they’re all working

Eventually they forgot about Gregor

The Charwoman they hired is the one who still recognizes Gregor to some extent

Grete’s violin playing leading to Gregor offending the hell out of the tenants

Family discussion on getting rid of him

Gregor just dying off to starvation instead

The Samsas moving on in a way (notably speaking on the ending as well)

This is the part where the alienation, isolation, and the decline of human value really shines. Why? Because it’s the third part and holy fuck this is where we get existential (not really).

So a lot is going on in the third part unlike the previous two parts.

Gregor’s isolation here is growing more and more since everyone started working to stay afloat. With that, they turned his room into a storage closet, which defeated the original purpose of Grete’s first initiative of giving her brother more space to roam around. It’s here as well that Gregor doesn’t eat all that much, either because everyone slowly forgot about him or him going on a hunger strike. I find it ironic that among everyone who remains in the household, the Charwoman (a widowed old lady who comes by every now and then to help with he chores) is the only one who still acknowledges Gregor (though as a silly little dung beetle) .

Actually I still wonder why the Charwoman is the one that still has some acknowledgement towards Gregor when everyone just slowly moved away from him. (Hmm maybe I should dissect that idea later.)

It’s in this chapter that Grete turns against Gregor after the mishap that happened after him making appearance in front of the tenants that rented a room in the apartment. She was the first one who offered on the idea of getting rid of that “vermin”.

Gregor’s value is literally gone at this point, not only just that but he’s completely alienated and seen as “inhuman” (in a way that is no longer human). His family no longer sees the human nature that he once had when he was human and had some use. It’s at this point where they see him as nothing more than a vermin and that itself led to him just proceeding to die off alone. (Update: I had a double check and apparently Gregor died because of the injury from the apple being yeeted at him... So his dad was the one who killed him ultimately... W H O O P S)

It’s with that the burden is released from the family after hearing word from the Charwoman that “it” has died and she is off to dispose of the corpse. The story closes off with the Samsas going to the countryside and planning on moving to a smaller place. Here, Mr. And Mrs. Samsa realized Grete’s growth to being a fine young woman.

So…

That’s that I guess…

Really this part confuses me a lot because I don’t really know what to say. On one hand this could be beyond just alienation and isolation stemming from the loss of value of one’s human nature. On the other, this is a cycle that continues to persist. The deprecating nature of what is considered valuable in a human is what can lead towards the alienation and soon, isolation, of a person. Mostly seen in the fourth dimension of Marx’s alienated labor is alienation from other humans which more or less describes alienating workers from one another through socio-economic means (think of pay difference or something similar to prevent them from banding together and whatnot). Though in this case, the alienation is more evident in the measure of the person’s worth. Since Gregor isn’t a person anymore, his worth is basically useless and thus he’s slowly being alienated.

Man…I think that’s as straightforward as it seems now…

“Gregor Samsa was alienated due to his lack of worth in his family’s eyes.”

Then again it can’t be THAT easy.

Can it?

To close things off because I ran out of ideas to write, I’d like to say that I might make a follow up analysis that’s more…formal to say the least. As well as an analysis that tackles both the vocaloid song and the novel. For now…my ideas have ran their run and it’s time for me to write my formal essay.

The Metamorphosis stands to me as an enigma as to what it truly means. A short three chaptered story that could cover topics such as the actual metamorphosis of certain characters to the alienation that is discussed here. Marx’s theory of alienation has heavy influence on many of Kafka’s works with The Metamorphosis being one of them. I was challenged at some point by another friend of mine to figure out why The Metamorphosis is considered “non-fiction”. I am not sure if I’ll ever get a proper answer for it.

The story of The Metamorphosis could also be some sentiment Kafka had as well in his actual life, especially with his relationship with his father. Having preference to write while being pressured to be more rational by one’s father could bring forth that feeling of alienation of not being understood. Just like how no one understood what Gregor said when he was turned into a bug. To be alienated is to also be isolated from society. Hegel’s identification of the different forms of alienation can be referenced by identifying that the form of alienation being seen here as the complete form of alienation.

Why haven’t I discussed this earlier? Well because I was too busy trying to figure shit out.

But yes…the complete form of alienation is both on the subjective and objective kind. The world Gregor is placed in (in a social context) is a repetitive cycle that eats itself over and over again. It’s the kind that is self-sabotaging in a way that either you leave it or it eats you alive. As for Gregor’s own home, at some point he failed to make sense of the home his family is trying to make way for him. But in part 3, the home Gregor once knew is no longer a home that welcomed him, it is one that saw him as a “vermin” that needed to be rid of.

All in all, it’s difficult to make sense of the weight of human value and any remnants of Gregor’s human nature post-transformation. His sister’s growing frustration against him bears this lack of empathy to understand Gregor anymore. Imagine that…being backstabbed by someone who first tried to be kind for you. Oh what alienation does to people… as well as the fact that the shift in the value their parents now hold for Greta seeing that she also metamorphosed into a young woman of “value” (married off). I think it’s here as well in seeing this shift in value fitting Marx’s forms of alienation aka “from humans”.

[Look, I’m lowkey rambling here and sound like I don’t know what I’m saying but that’s because I don’t know what I’m saying]

That’s all…I’ll also be archiving this tomorrow but I’ll put it back up in a few days after my essays’ been graded.

Wish me luck on my madness.

#metamorphosis #random literary analysis #franz kafka #i think i butchered my analysis again #i’m writing my college papers on tumblr instead of google docs and idk why #no one asked for this blog but here it is #hope i pass this paper tho

7 notes · View notes

triptychofvoids · 1 year ago

Note

SHOW BONESAW PLEEAAASE 🥺🥺🥺

one (1) pretty thing for your viewing pleasure

#wasnt super bright in here when i took this picture #obviously this kind of saw is more of what you would see a butcher using #as opposed to a surgical saw for example #but a pretty saw is a pretty saw #i need as many pretty saws and scalpels and forceps and clamps and retractors and scissors and everything as possible btw #for my collection and not for any other reason.#neway! i want to see if i can polish this saw at all. i bet i probably can #replies from the void #the doc is in

42 notes · View notes

landfilloftrash · 2 months ago

Text

It Begins

***

****

Summer days tended to be her least favorite of the seasons. It was a bright day, brighter than her eyes liked as the sun glared through the sea’s waves back up into its eyes, and she’d pulled up her hood, contracted her pupils, and closed its third eyelid to combat that, but even so, she sunk deeper into the folds of her robe like a petulant child at the audacity the waves had to be reflecting like knives into its eyes today.

When someone needed out of the country, or simply out of Ӕngelӕnd, they usually left in the night; the cover of darkness shielding the fleeing subjects and the owlin's eyes easily cutting through the shadows to discern what was actually there. At least the moon was always kinder to her eyes on the waters than the sun had ever been. But it wasn’t so stupid as going as far to nag the sun for something about the ocean, and she wasn’t going to hiss at the sea for a feature that made it beautiful; she just felt like complaining about a hurt within the sanctity of her mind as it waited for the ship to be off.

She had been sitting in the crow’s nest as she waited. And wait she did— Both to stay out of the crew’s way (they had more than enough people to set the riggings right, that rations and spare sails were stocked up, that everything was running as a tight ship should) simply due to her size, reputation, status. And staying up here was to have a, hah, bird’s eye view of the situation.

Ӕngelӕnd had a very specific set of superstitions— she wasn’t 100% sure if it extended past this place or if it was simply the Ӕnglish, however.

A Priest on a ship was one thing, to get tongues wagging about religion and how badly it mixed with the sea, nevermind the gods of the sea and how temperamental they could be on their own. A woman on a ship was said to bring bad luck; everyone else on the spectrum was fine, but when a woman got on board it simply spelled doom. That had always made her laugh. A Priestess of the Blood Clerics set all the wagging tongues to silence, and pure fear in her presence. Eno was well aware of what blood clerics' reputations were. She herself had been one for more than a few years at this point, and the change from having outsiders of the church approaching her every day for everything and nothing at all, to them out right avoiding her was a stark contrast.

Not that it could blame them to be honest; the idea of someone being able to puppeteer your body into doing whatever they wanted you to do simply because you have blood was a horrifying concept— and the main reason she had stayed under counseling of the teachers and Saints for half a decade longer than her peers.

Quite honestly, it was rather eye-opening to see the shift of severity, if still open-minded teaching, that the Blood sect of the Church had. She knew going in, that it was going to be a little bit more firm in its guidance, opposed to something like Tempest or Life— but watching her Father eye each and every one of them with a fierce fire in his eyes as he talked calmly about what would happen should they have decided it would be funny to try their powers on an unsuspecting civilian was quite… the memory.

The snapping of the staff he had been holding in demonstration like a simple twig had also been quite expressive of his feelings on the matter.

(It had been after leading an afternoon sermon that a man approached her– the strong smell of medicine, along with the strict air suddenly surrounding her, giving away who it was as she turned to anticipate him.

“Father Dolmayan,” it greeted with what humanoids treated as a smile and a bow of the head, “what can I do for you? I hope you do not need me to be a test subject for your students again, I don’t have any injuries at the present moment.”

“Priestess Folook,” he gave a small bow from the shoulders in return, “Thankfully, no. I come bearing official business at the moment.”

More official than what he practiced? She let the ‘smile’ drop in favor of her curiosity— tilting its head in an offer to continue.

“You are not busy I take it?”

“Not anymore– is there somewhere you’d rather discuss this?”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “Why don’t we take a walk in the forest? It would do me some good to walk and talk.”

Eno would be the first to admit one of its favorite pastimes was to simply exist in the forest and hear the sounds surrounding her, quiet any thought she might have had, but the idea of taking a walk and discussing official business had her on guard already. They should’ve sent Rollo with this news, it internally joked. He’s much better at all this.

They went together out into the woods and discussed smaller things first; how their respective jobs were going, small concerns or gripes, little victories and achievements, but nothing unusual until they were halfway through the woodland hike near the church.

“We have received word from the King that they request a cleric to be on a voyage to Nassau, and myself with a few others deemed that it should be you.”

“To Nassau?” she questioned, thinking of the People’s Republic. The enemies of the crown, a fierce and protective people, and often collated with a cult, which was incorrect if she had her sources straight. None of this was said aloud in the seconds that passed. “Whatever for?”

He side-eyed her, seemingly waiting for her to catch up, but it genuinely could not connect why they would want a cleric on this voyage. Priests already were frowned upon by sailors; she could quite literally only try to imagine why the King would want her kind of presence on board. And who had even decided it’d be her? She was no good with laws when they went against what it believed in, but then again, she wasn’t completely vocal with that particular opinion; and for good reason.

“It seems to be an attempt at taking the rebels back ‘into the fold’ as it were;” he finally explained at her continued confused look— perhaps she needed to work on conveying that expression. Only the Saints and the other beast-people seemed to understand that one; “finally re-become a part of the King’s nation.”

Ah. That explained a part of the puzzle, including an explosive argument between the King and her Saint, but didn’t explain her part in it all. “I can think of several better candidates for this than myself,” it mused, thinking of Eamon and Alvaro in particular with their more zealous determination; Order domain as they were, they’d be perfect for enacting the law and duty to the King. “It would be a couple days to summon them, but they would no doubt be up for the task. Far more invested in this sort of thing, you know?”

Dolmayan had started shaking his head about half way through its suggestion, and before she could try and convince the man that she was not the one to be tasked with this— he continued.

“The King seeks a Blood Cleric to attend on this mission.”

And suddenly things made a lot more sense; dread made itself at home, curling in a looping spiral around her heart and guts.)

But none of that was important at the moment, because she was keeping an eye out for a very specific someone.

This someone should theoretically be easy to spot. Especially considering the man was— Well. A triton. There was nothing intentionally racist about the thought, it was simply, tritons kind of stuck out in a place of land-faring people. Not to mention he was an entire admiral. Both these visual cues combined should make spotting him fairly easy. He just. Hadn’t arrived yet. At least not under her watchful eyes. Maybe he’d shown up days beforehand? Simply lurking in the Captain’s cabin? She’dve assumed it would have heard something from him at this point, especially considering the frazzled look of the one who greeted her when it had arrived, so it had to assume he wasn’t here. So perhaps, was he going to be one of those people that showed up at the very last second? She wasn’t sure, but it was certainly reaching that point in time amongst the ship’s crew.

And just as she was wondering about all of that– she spotted him. A little hard not to; he was the shade of something dark in a sea of pale, wearing a mother of pearl armor set and wielding a trident— presumably befitting of his station.

She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, lie. He was absolutely stunning.

Eno watched him strut— because, that’s what the man was doing, he was very clearly strutting— onto the deck of the ship and watched with a sharp eye what everyone was doing. Clearly, he was in his element.

His aura… well, whatever she’d been expecting, and had previously experienced from similar ranks of army men, was not at all what this man exuded. Underneath some face paint, or simply a creative use of makeup, it couldn't tell, to boot. Confidence, arrogance, sure those were standard, and were detectable, but the main thing that caught its attention at the moment was the fact it nearly wasn’t, under the.. nigh almost stabilizing facade he seemed to bear in the face of his underlings. Not the best word to use but it was the only one she had. He was sharp, but not a cold presence as he walked beside the gesticulating man. Cutting through chaos with aplomb, but with a slide to his step so as not to disrupt anything.

So this was Chief Admiral Sir Gaura Arzorath.

Definitely not what she’d expected, but that, in of itself, was to be expected, she thought. Can’t judge a book by its reputation, and definitely not just because of its fancy cover.

Eno watched him for a little longer, trying to see if he was perhaps abominably rude from up here, but it was simply too loud for her to hear any conversation not yelled at 60 decibels louder than a normal conversational tone. But luckily– and just as unluckily for her sensitive hearing— it didn’t have to strain too hard to be able to hear something after the man talking to Admiral Arzorath disappeared from her current viewpoint. There was a specific sound approaching her– the creaks of the ropes and wood getting louder as someone climbed up to the crow’s nest.

The apprehensive face of a human peeked over the sides of the nest, and she eyed the man with unconcealed curiosity; the expression tended to look very, very creepy to non-avians, and that was exactly what she was aiming to stir.

“Ah– Madame Priestess?” he stuttered, his eyes darting across her face, and she could almost hear the wood give a creak from how tight he was holding it.

“That is I,” she rumbled out, ignoring his fear politely, “what do you need?”

“A-ah, begging your pardon, ma’am, but Admiral Gaura Arzorath is formally asking for your presence.”

“I will be down in a moment,” it hummed. “Run along.”

The human didn’t need to be told twice. He nodded earnestly and startled hustling his way back down from the crow’s nest, giving her a moment to ponder her options.

She didn’t know quite how to approach this. Clever woman she was not, but it was at the very least an imaginative one. Everything she’d heard on the streets about this Admiral pointed towards him being a very bad person to approach with the idea of perhaps not binding the Nassauean people’s will to her own, and forcing them upon the ships as prisoners— or killing them should they be able to resist her hold; but from how the people surrounded him, he was not all the stories spoke of him to be; but that proved absolutely nothing about how he felt about this particular mission.

As the blood cleric tasked with this duty, she would very much like to protest this course of action— possibly directly to the King himself, if it didn’t think it might get immediately arrested and possibly hanged for it. She doubted the second part, but hey, her imaginative anxiety was allowed a little free reign; Eno wasn’t quite sure of the King’s policy of a sole someone protesting about a given order right in his face, especially in regards to what amounted to conquest.

For now, she thought, climbing onto the railing of the nest; perching, I’ll keep this facade. Best to have people not questioning my secrecy if that’s what they expect from me, rather than them know me as I actually am.

She leapt down from the top of the crow’s nest, feeling the air rushing past but not hearing a sound, and with an easy swoop of its widened wings to catch the air and slow the fall just enough as she landed with a crouch– perhaps a bit hard on her knees— before rising to its full height and tucking her partially extended wings back behind her.

It made for an entrance, and one that will keep people from bothering her.

“Admiral Gaura Arzorath,” she intoned with a bow of the head.

“Ah,” he exhaled, eyeing her in wary curiosity, but keeping polite. Smart. “You’re our blood cleric then?”

“That would indeed be I.”

“Well then, Priestess… ehm,” he blanked, until the human from earlier whispered ‘Folook!’ to him, “Folook, my apologies, busy morning– welcome aboard my vessel. I assume you’ve been informed of the task you’ve been assigned?”

“Yes, sir.” She hummed, pulling the letter from the King from with the folds of her sleeves.

“Good!” he nodded, clapping his hands together with a little flick of his tail, and eyed her letter’s seal with a careful eye before ignoring it entirely. “Good, good, good. Arthur!”

“Aye, sir?” the human next to him startled to attention. So his name was Arthur. That was nice to know.

“Can you bring some buckets to my cabin? Don’t need to be filled or anything, I can do that, but it did just occur to me. It would be wonderful if that could happen.”

“A-aye, sir? Filled with..?”

“Seawater,” he responded with aplomb. “But again, I can do that.”

“Also,” he pointed a finger up in sudden remembrance, “Would you mind gathering the men once we’re about to make way? I’d like to say a few words before we shove off.”

“Aye, Admiral,” he nodded, and hustled off to start shouting something to the helmsman, lost within the general cacophony.

Sir Admiral Gaura Arzorath was a tad… goofy.

She refrained from giving a smile at the thought. Just because he’s goofy does not mean he hasn’t earned the title of ‘The King’s Favorite Murderer’, just means there’s a person behind it, like there always is.

So instead she watched Arthur run off, slightly amused. It was always interesting to watch someone go about their job, and seeing the person-to-person interaction, even briefly, where the only reason why Arthur seemed to be so on edge was due to her and the ship about to set off?; she enjoyed that it was only that and not the Admiral himself.

“Now, ehm,” it turned its attention back to the aforementioned Admiral, who’s smile turned slightly rueful as she turned back to him, “Madame Folook. If you wouldn’t mind, I have a couple of questions for you?”

Questions? This could very well be interesting. “Ask away, Admiral.”

He pursed his lips as he lifted his hands in a steepled position for a moment, debating something, before pointing at her with the hands’ positioning continued. “What does a Blood Cleric… do?”

..Huh?

“I beg your pardon..?”

“I mean no offense–!” he quickly waved his hands in a gesture so fast they blurred, “I just! Don’t know what Blood Clerics do! Or why you’re specifically on my ship!”

His hands stopped moving so fast so that he could apparently cross his arms across his chest in a bit of a defensive maneuver. “I like knowing these things, y’know? Good for an Admiral to know the role of everyone on his vessel.”

Oh. Heavens.

She fought the simultaneous urges to start giggling uncontrollably and to stare at him in incredulous shock. It was getting whiplash here. He had no clue what she was. He had no idea what its purpose on this voyage was. It settled for a weird in-between where it gave him a strange, if a bit ominous, smile.

“Let’s start simply. Do you know what Clerics are capable of?”

“Of course, of course,” he waved a hand in dismissal before crossing it back across his chest. “I’m not that unknowledgable on the subject, just specifically your sect.”

“Then you’re aware that us spellcasters have different domains that help us in a range of different ways, and those domains are usually titled after what they are related to, or have major control over.”

He nodded diplomatically with curiosity in his eye as his tail flicked in her direction. ‘Go on.’

“Clerics of the blood, control that.”

Arzorath stared at her blankly for a few moments as his tail continued gently swishing side to side, gears clearly turning within his head. And then–

“Oh!” He exclaimed, his eyes going bright with realization, before a slight pause caused his brow to become ever so slightly furrowed in continued realization. “Oooh. I see. Hm. Yes.”

The admiral raised a curled finger to his lips as Arzorath looked down in thought, muttering loud enough for her to hear as the swishing of his tail became sharper. “Hm. Alright, yes, now I see. Well. Your services won’t have any need of use, hopefully, once we approach them with our ships. Three Galleons against a small group of pirates? They’ll bend a knee quickly.”

Before she could think of trying to disagree with it being a ‘small group’ or agree with his hope of not using her abilities, he clapped his hands together with a fierce final slice of his tail through the air. “Alright! I understand perfectly now. It is truly rather unfortunate that your abilities are even possibly needed. Barbaric, you know? Glad to have you on our side— and once again; Welcome aboard ‘The Queen Eliza’.”

She blinked as he twisted on his heel and marched towards the helm with a determined air.

Quick and thoughtful; the tactician he was rumored to be shining through with a threatening gleaming blade, but just a bit oblivious to situations at hand, dulling that shadowy shine.

It truly had no idea what to think about this strange triton.

All it could truly do was eye him as he got to the top of the galleon’s stairs, to the railing peering over the rest of the deck, and called for the rest of the people’s attentions with a sharp whistle that sliced through the general noise like a guillotine.

The noise didn’t silence instantly, lingering briefly like a consciousness, before eyes were dragged to the man himself. He quietly cleared his throat, for none but those nearest and the sharpest ears to hear. “Men, some of you know what we are gathered on board for, what our next task is. Some of you may not. Regardless of whether or not either of these facts are true, I am here to inform you exactly what that quest is.”

“You all have, no doubt, heard of the pirates that plague our waters. Their leader, the pirate lord Lockwell. May have even encountered them yourself on the seas for one reason or another— you may have also heard that our King has been attempting peace treaties with those scallywags, and you may have heard that they have been failing.” His eyes swept across the deck with ice steeled there. “Today marks the day that those rumors come to fruition; they have rejected our words of peace and stand staunchly against us.”

There was a ripple amongst the crew; the beginning of a complete understanding of their undergoing. Arzorath only continued cementing their realization as his voice raised amongst the murmurs; “We are to storm the heart of their power, their rebellion, and to show them our might. In three days, we will arrive on the shores of these rebels, and finally take them into custody. By force if we must, willing if at all possible, but by all means necessary. We fight for our country, for honor, and for duty. For this is our duty to the King, it is our duty for God. Remember above all else; God is true, under Him we are permitted. Give what you must, take it all back.”

The brief silence that took hold of the ship was backed by the calls of the docks, the rush of the sea. She peered at him from the bow. Small on this monster of a ship, yet commanding the area with little effort.

“We make way immediately; for Nassau,” he ordered sharply. “Godspeed to us all.”

“You heard him, men!” called Arthur with a bellow, “Unfurl the sails, raise the anchor! To Nassau!”

As the admiral swept away into the depths of the ship, a flurry of activity seized the crew once again with a fierce rejuvenation, putting the activity from earlier to shame. Calling to one another up in the riggings and masts, swinging to and fro with pure confidence, and down below, an echo from the boards underneath as they were pulling the anchors in triplicate.

An admiral indeed.

As it felt the ship begin to groan and move, echoed like a howl from a pack from the following two vessels of 'The Queen Eliza', it turned her head westward.

Upon the high seas it was to be.

***

Prologue; One - Two - Three - Four

High Seas; It Begins (here you are!) - Something's Wrong - Blood in the Water pt. 1

#my writings #small one! 3k.#Pirate Campaign #dnd ocs #Enososin Folook #Gaura Arzorath #ft. random NPCs we've had; including Father Dolmayan!#apologies that my memory of the first session is a bit blurry so I'm working off mostly vibes of what happened in terms of dialogue.#sorry Gaura for butchering your hella awesome speech I canno remember #anyways my friends might be wondering; "Rea! why are you writing sessions down from Eno's perspective? We were there!'' This is true.#However.#My idiot ass forgets things soossoososososooooo fast and I wish to engrave my memory of the campaigns I'm in in stone;#but since I'm no stone worker with a chisel at hand- I settle for a google doc approaching the size of a novella with how much misc info #of building eno's general story is in here. I was gonna do this with addrus but didn't get around to it. so here we are!#rea rambles in the tags #shut UP rea #rea’s trash

4 notes · View notes

gaylittleguys · 2 months ago

Text

the werewolf design in cursed rules but the movie is kind of a slog ugh

#idgafffff anymoreeeee #stop fighting in human form ughhhhh #did you forget the werewolf suit #this movie is soo very 2005 #I know this got butchered by the studio and I can see that it could have been better but man #.doc #also a very funny turnaround for it’s very 2000s homophobia??? yay for gay <3 #I guess?????

4 notes · View notes

omegaremix · 9 months ago

Text

April 3, 2022.

It takes a good two months before a year starts to pick up for me. The first big win was in the final frigid day of February when I decided to take the train to Greenpoint’s Academy Annex for some records; the first stop of what would be an amazing record-store victory tour. Then arrived March. I drove four miles to the shopping mall to look for leather jackets when I discovered a new retro- video arcade opened up. Within a few days I walk in and spent the entire day re-living my Atari / Nintendo / SNES youth. Those eight hours were a thoroughly exhaustive one. I saw games which I threw many rolls of quarters into, to others I only read about and fantasized even seeing up until then. The original Super Mario Bros. cabinet, The Neo Geo MVS, Outrun, R-Type, Taito’s Superman, Atari’s Star Wars. Most of every great moment of my youth spent in delis, card stores, ice cream parlors, long-gone restaurants, and amusement parks were now all in one room.

Good thing I went because my all-time favorite ginger April* made a rare appearance in my store and I had to tell her about it. She came in to buy some A/V components like she always does and we spent a good ten minutes catching up on everything. April was a fangirl and a hardcore gamer of all formats so I had to share the wealth of news with her. Too late. She already went. Still, every visit from her counted as she was the cutest thing of pale skin, glasses, and Irish ancestry I ever seen.

I had another holiday spent with my Coney Island family. My aunt invited me to her daughter’s house in East Meadow for Easter where they, her aggressive right-wing country-music loving Trump supporter sons, her sister, and all the offspring you could think of would be there. A great four hours were had coloring eggs, watching Disney’s Encanto on the big screen, and an endless feast of Italian food were laid out for all to gorge ourselves to death. Blessings were counted and they were enough to cash them in for a bright sunny Sunday. I also enjoyed the hour-long drive from East Meadow through Rt. 27 all the way home.

In between all this was a major event I was chasing for a while. It would be nice to attend a Boy Harsher show and they’ve been making the rounds in New York City quite often. I jumped at the opportunity to purchase tickets after their Halloween show and ultimately got them - only for January show to be postponed. Blame the COVID- omicron for it. But Jae & Augustus pushed it back to April and this time nothing was stopping them from performing nor anyone attending The Music Hall Of Williamsburg.

I learned that it was a two-hour ride each way from my line to Penn Station and back due to transfers at the Jamaica Station. Not good as I had to work a 10AM shift. This time, I opted to drive out to the Babylon stop for a direct line to Manhattan and back for fifty-five minutes each. I went up the stairs and waited only a few minutes before the train arrived on an elevated platform. Nothing special about the train ride on a cloudy mid-50* weather. The show, however, was a whole other story. Everyone enjoyed the opener Twin Tribes and the headlining Boy Harsher hands-down to great fanfare. I couldn’t have waited in line to get some merch- as, once again, someone had to ride home for tomorrow’s payday.

I reversed the path from The Music Hall- by taking the L and ½/3 line back to Penn Station. It just so happened that I missed my train home by three minutes and it cost me an hour more before the next one came in. As I mentioned before, no transfers. Just a direct line from Penn Station back to Babylon where the double-decker cars awaited us. A nice surprise for me sitting in the seats above to contemplate my next major win: Sacred Bones’ 15th anniversary show. It could only get better.

Fifteen years ago from this month, a new concept was born. I purchased a 30GB iPod Classic through a ‘friend’ of mine at WUSB. Since then, I loaded all of my music into it and took it through many train rides. The iPod Classic has retired in favor of my iPhone SE. What once became a distraction has now been an auditioning process for future Omega WUSB shows and seasonal personal playlists. Nothing is off limits. Noise, backpacker, jazz, fusion, shoegaze, noise rock, post-punk, electronics, hardcore - everything. Everything I discover gets played in hopes of either being featured or forever a part of me. With a near endless plethora of outlets, mutuals, and other ways of obtaining music, there’s almost never a moment of silence outside of work or sleep.

Congotronics International: “Where’s The One”

MoE: “Beautiful Stranger”

Silent Servant: “Slasher”

Doc Hammer: “Commanche Crew Cut”

Visit0r: “God Of All Flesh”

People’s Choice, The: “Here We Go Again”

Ride: “1,000 Miles”

Thurston Moore: “The Station”

Sunrot: 21%

Joucous: “Rivers Pt. 1”

Exek: “ID’ed”

Legss: “Hyde Park Coroner”

Alice Glass: “Suffer And Swallow”

Totally Unicorn: “Daddy’s Stabby Surprise”

Aeges: “Who Are You”

Benny The Butcher & J. Cole: “Johnny P.’s Caddy”

Maneskin: “Moriro Da Re”

Broken Vow: “Expiation”

Exek: “(I’m After) Your Best Interest”

Smash Your Enemies: “Faithless”

Death Strider: “Cardinal Sin”

Letting Up Despite Great Faults: “Gemini”

Dead Leaf Echo: “Milk.Blue.Kisses (Foil In Motion)”

Offset: Spectacles, The: “Stomp”

Caparezza: “Eyes Wide Shut”

9 notes · View notes