#THINKS ABOUT THE SUNDIAL.

[exilegend]

What does love feel like to you?

everything.

nothing matters but this. not you. not them. this moment, this love that you've built, that is what matters. it is all that there is. you will do anything to keep it this way; no matter what line you have to cross, who you have to step over. the ends justify the means, after all; and for you, this is everything. they are everything.

tagged by. no one i STOLE it

[camcorderrevival]

someday, someone, somewhere: the haunting of hill house, hangsaman, we have always lived in the castle

[aeb-art]

it's pride month, i'm allowed this indulgence

there's another teeny tiny doodle but it's unfortunately a vertical image and it's long so it's under the cut

[crowskullls]

Zam wants to be ♠️ with Minute SOOOOO bad. And Minute has no idea why. He’s so confused by it. Reluctant and honestly pretty tame Kismesissitude

[pine-arten]

guys the light deity is literally called light WEAVER ...... it makes sense to have pupa/grub dragons. they are weaving

[orchestrated-haunting]

y'know the romans were both smart as fuck and dumb as shit in the same way i am as a college student.

theoretically could create highly accurate sundials but in practice they dont. could standardize their measurements but instead settled for using a "big" or a "small" cup.

made a ham shaped sundial because why not

[mossyshadows]

I love left hand of darkness because its like a scifi classic and its such a good exploration of gender ahead of its time and leguins worlds always feel so rich and wonderful but something about annihilation just feels so much more personal and vivid to me like if i had to say which one left more of an impact i would have to say annihilation. Its the only horror book thats really gotten such a strong reaction out of me also and the love thats central to it is really so much

mhm! I’d say opposite for me in terms of why I like them - like tlhod fits more of your description of annihilation personally - the love that is central to that kills me, le guin’s characters always make me feel so (!!!). whereas in annihilation, I was honestly more there for the atmosphere of area x, the PROSE the luminosity.. & how area x influenced the characters, from a more detached viewpoint i guess? like sure the backstory for the biologist and where the relationship ends up broke my heart but it was less of a priority/not why i love the book if that makes sense. But truly this is why they’re both stellar, because we can love them for different reasons <3 good books can be so personal but they WILL be undisputed legends <3

[sixofravens-reads]

Finished The Sundial!

What a book. The premise is basically "what if the shittiest rich people you know are chosen to survive the apocalypse?" Jackson, in her classic way, has made even the most sympathetic characters massive assholes, and watching them interact and try to come to terms with and plan for their future is delightful. The tension is racked up and released and racked up again throughout the story as the characters scramble to determine the nature of their future, plan for it (somewhat), and new characters appear out of the blue or are dragged up to the house and are suddenly included in the ranks of Survivors (while, as you'd expect from these people, the servants are unwittingly turned out to die). This book definitely plays on the themes of agoraphobia and isolation present in many of her other works, I would highly recommend it if you like We Have Always Lived in the Castle and The Haunting of Hill House, as it's a nice midpoint between the two.

Like Hangsaman, I think this book is going to take a second reading to fully understand, but on a first pass it was still deeply intriguing!

[foxgloveinspace]

snowflake and cashmere is my new favorite winter sent from b&bw. oh my gosh it's so good.

[actionkitty]

i don't know who to vote for

i left out the road through the wall because it doesn't really have any single main protagonist. and i know orianna isn't really the only female protag in the sundial but she is my favorite of its main women and this is my poll lol

[kerryweaverlesbian]

All of Dean's segments, when they're the first time it's his POV that day, start with "It's been a hard day" or a variation thereof. Bc of how hard his days are lol. This is one of several repeated phrases that swirl around Dean's head, a choice drawn from:

a) I have phrases repeat in my head ad nauseum until I can resolve them a la "a rat gets what a rat gets" that Dean has in this chapter and I was the one writing it lol.

b) I read most of Shirley Jackson's novels and Annihilation this year. The terror of getting locked into a hostile sequence of words was on my mind!!

c) It's a reflection of Dean's cycle of behaviour. He has a hard day so he feels bad so he makes it worse so he feels bad....

d) it's a swift explanation for WHY he's doing this stuff. His life IS hard and it's hard because he's trying. The temptation to just give up is ever present.

[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 (NSFW) / PART 4 /

PART FIVE (NSFW)

Warning: Mentions of Pregnancy and virginity. piv.

You started Sunday the same way you always did. Wake up before dawn, start breakfast for you and Ma, stare out the window and think about the list of chores you could never keep up with.

“It’s a beautiful morning!” Your mother shuffled past your open door towards the kitchen, “Are you sure I can’t just handle all the work in the field today? Won’t you want to relax before your friend arrives?”

“Mother, please do not blow this out of proportion.” You scolded her light-heartedly, “I’m just going to do my work as usual, and when he stops by I��ll take a break-”

“My baby is getting courted by a big strong orc~” She sang out to you. You followed her to the kitchen. “How did you know he’s courting me?”

“So he is courting you.” She swayed back and forth in front of the hearth, throwing bits of kindling onto the fire.

“Well- I-”

“Y/n, don’t you remember. When I told you about the family that lived in the neighboring plot. The wife told me so much about how strange orc courting was, especially with her being human, and-”

“You didn’t tell me it was a half-orc family…” 

She turned to you with a devious smirk, “Wouldn’t you like to know about a half-orc family.” “MA!” You grabbed an apple from the table (a bright red one that matched the color of your face) and ran out the door. You weren’t really mad at her, but this entire situation was so out of your comfort zone. The only experience you ever really had with being pursued was desperately avoiding Milo for the past two years.

You glanced at the sundial in the garden. Three hours. You had three hours to try and get some work done in the field and shake off the nerves.

-

The tomatoes were a mess. No wonder, this was a corner of the field that had been sorely neglected this season. The sun was climbing higher, and the heat of its rays were beginning to lick the back of your neck. What time was it anyways?

“SO NICE TO MEET YOU- OH YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE!”

Your mothers voice was loud enough to carry all the way to your little corner in the tomato patch. You shot to your feet, craning your neck to see her enthusiastically fawning over a slightly nervous Khargaad. You could hear him nervously chuckling as the two exchanged words.

Well, might as well go save him. You looked down at your work clothes covered in grass stains and mud. Hair was sticking to the back of your sweaty neck. Gross. Probably didn’t smell pretty either.

Your mother caught you out of the corner of her eye and pointed excitedly, “THERE SHE IS!”

You cringed. Gods she was making all this fuss and you looked like you just crawled out of a ditch.

“Hello! I see you met Ma.” You were trying to casually wipe the mix of dirt and sweat from your face, wading over to them through the field. He felt his heart skip a bit when you got closer. You smelled so earthy. And the musk of your sweat was… it could drive him feral.

He started imagining all the ways he could steal you away and worship you. Fill you. Taste you.

“Um… Khargaad?”

He jolted out of his sinful haze, “I couldn’t show up empty handed.” He thrust a basket into your arms. It was laden with fancy imported fruits. “This- This is too much. This must have cost-”

“Hush now,” his voice was like warm honey, “I hunt big game, I can afford it.” He had a cocky little smirk on his face. You thanked him, motioning to follow you into the cottage.

He looked back at your mom one more time, “It was so nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

-

Your first lessons together went just as well as predicted. By the end he was properly frustrated, arms crossed and everything.

“The letters. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s all… mixed up.”

“Let’s just end it here for today.”

He was so cute like this. All flustered. 

He stood up from his seat, being careful to crouch as he easily exceeded the height of the ceiling. “Alrighty, let’s get to work.” He crossed the room in one long stride, pulling his shirt over his head. He looked strong, but not in the way statues are with their lean bodies and taught chiseled muscles. He looked like a man who ate well and worked hard. Your eyes wandered to the slight love handles that peaked over the waistband of his trousers. Gods you were no better than a man, thinking about how bad you wanted to feel him in your hands.

He glanced behind his shoulder, “Where first?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Khargaad.”

“Do you think I’m going to just leave with all this work to be done?”

-

He followed you like an excited puppy to the tomato patch you had been working on. You had tried to tell him that he didn’t need to waste the rest of his day helping with this. But he knew he didn’t need to. He wanted to. And who was going to stop him? Certainly not you.

He started on one end, and you the other, working slowly until you met in the middle. By the end, your hands were red and scratched up from pulling the thistle weeds. Of course, Kharghaad’s were so calloused that it was like he had a pair of gloves on. He gave a little gasp when he saw your sore fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything…” He scooped your small hands into his, as delicate as you would pick up a fresh baby bird.

Every time he touched you it was like this great release. Your mother, as loving as she was, never quite developed a touchy-feely nature. You were so used to it fleeting as soon as it was there. Quick handshakes, brushing against someone in the market. You craved physical touch.

So when Khargaad didn’t let go of your hands. When he held them so carefully and tenderly. So deliberately. You found yourself trying to memorize every little second of the moment.

“I’ll have to buy you gloves.” He muttered, picking out the little needles with surprising dexterity. He took his canteen and went to rinse off the skin. “I can wash my own hands, Khargaad.” You chuckled.

“But I want to,” He blurted out with immediate embarrassment, “Sorry, I guess you could say it’s an orc thing? It’s sorta like… we’re very communal. There’s no reason to do much of anything alone, if you think about it…” He sort of trailed off like he was getting ahead of himself. He paused.

“I hope I'm not smothering you. Maybe humans aren’t like that-” He went to let go of your hands, and a part of you cried out inside. You were tired of trying to play this stoic lone wolf character. It wasn’t who you were. It’s not who any of us are. We all need each other.

“Please, don’t stop…” You whispered to him, thrusting your hands back into his. You uttered the magic words. The words he had been waiting for. He pulled you into his chest. It didn’t matter how gross, hot, and sweaty the two of you were. Or that your mother was most definitely watching joyfully from the kitchen window. Nothing mattered. “Can we go somewhere?” His voice was muffled as he whispered into the top of your head. He was taking long deep sighs, taking in your scent.

“Please…” The need in your voice was palpable. He didn’t waste another moment, leading you to the forest behind your property. “Khargaad… the road is that way.” You motioned behind yourself. “I know a quicker way.” He glanced back at you with that sweet little smirk on his face.

Once past the treeline, the soft light of dusk struggled to breach the overhead foliage. You walked together for some time, before the sound of running water bubbled ahead. He had led you to a little clearing, where in the middle stood a circular style tent. A creek babbled away off to the side. The moon was full and provided plenty of light for you to take it all in. “Do you live here?” 

He nodded, looking down at you expectantly for approval. You grinned, “It’s lovely.”

He snaked a strong arm around your waste, pulling you in. His other hand cupped the back of your head, tilting your face up to his. For a moment he hovered over you, as if waiting for your permission. You reached up to cup his face, thumbing over one of the tusks jutting out of his mouth.

His lips met yours. It started slow, like sipping on a glass of fine wine. Then it was hungry. Like you had both been starved. You were getting drunk off of the needy little grunts he was making, pulling you in flush with his body. You could feel him through his trousers, and it startled you out of your stupor a bit. You hadn’t been with anyone before, and it was bound to happen sooner or later, but this was a bit more than you ever imagined.

It was almost like he sensed your tension, pulling away to look into your eyes, “Let’s get clean.” He had brought his thumb up to caress over your cheek, planting a small peck before jogging to his tent. Watching him disappear under the flap, your mind raced. What if you weren’t ready? What if he’s not patient?

He bounded out towards the stream, beckoning you over. He started to frown as you got closer, like he could smell the apprehension coming off of you, “Do you need to go slower? Do you want to go home? Nothing has to happen. Nothing at all. You are in charge.”

He started unlacing the ties of his trousers. You instinctually looked away, giving him privacy he clearly didn’t need. With the sound of water sloshing you looked back at him submerged up to his sternum. You approached the water’s edge, looking down into the little bubbles churning in the current. “Hey… what’s wrong?” He waded over to the edge, leaning onto the grassy bank. There wasn’t any aire of seduction in his voice, just one of genuine tenderness.

You sucked it up and opened your mouth, “I’ve never done this before…”

“With an orc?”

“No like… I’ve never done this before… ever.” You winced as the words came out. You were a grown adult, this conversation shouldn’t feel embarrassing. But it did nonetheless.

“And so you don’t want to do this?” He didn’t seem fazed at all by the information. “No!” You yelped out a little too enthusiastically, “No- I mean, yes. Yes I do want to. I want you.”

You started to pull at the ties of your shirt, face so flushed it was probably glowing red. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You ripped the shirt off your head like pulling off a bandaid, exposing your chest to the warm summer air. You went to fiddle with the strings of your work pants. He still didn’t look away, and you didn’t ask him to.

And there you were, clothed only in moonlight. Khargaad thought, maybe the moon had come out just for you tonight, to see your beauty for itself.

You stepped down into the water. “Are you sure you’re human? Not a beautiful fairy playing tricks on me?” Khargaad was completely entranced by you, eyes roaming over the curve of your shoulders to the curves of your breasts.

You felt some of the tension ease, snorting at him “I don’t think a fairy would smell this bad.” He gasped a bit as if he had just remembered, grabbing a bar of soap he had retrieved from the tent. “May I?” He asked, lathering up the bar in his hands.

You nodded, letting him wade closer to you. You felt the palms of his massive hands begin to work themselves into your hair, massaging his fingers into your scalp. “Oh-” You exclaimed a rather embarrassing moan, but it felt so good. He finished and went to clean his own hair. “Hey, it’s my turn now!” You scolded him. He was more than happy to let you clean him. As he said previously, it’s a part of orc culture to do things with other people. That includes bathing.

And oh how he loved to see you doing orc things. Like wearing that yellow dress dyed with orc spices, and making those pickled eggs for him. It made him think about how great it would be to bring you home with him, to meet all of his family. For you to find a place in his tribe. He missed home a lot, and now you were a part of that picture. You finished running your fingers through the curls of his clean hair.

He heard the sloshing of water, turning around to see you drying yourself off. He joined you. You cast a quick glimpse below his waist, blushing furiously at his partially hard cock.

You walked together to the flap of the tent. The inside surprised you. It was so… cozy. “Ah-” He had leaned down to nuzzle into your neck, you loved the feeling of his tusks against your skin. He pulled you to what could best be described as a nest. A nest of pillows and blankets. He very carefully leaned you onto your back, “Is this okay?”

You giggled at him, “Yes Khargaad. I will tell you if I need to stop, okay?”

“Promise?” He leaned back on his knees, his olive green skin looking lovely in the warm glow of the lantern lighting the tent. His member was on full display, completely unashamed. The way it twitched in anticipation made your stomach flutter. “Yes.”

He lied down next to you, peppering little kisses in the crook of your neck. His hands began to roam your body, starting with your shoulders and slowly moving down to your tits. His calloused palm grazed over the sensitive peaks, causing you to let out a breathy sigh. He took your left breast into his hand, thumbing over your hardened nipple. He palmed your chest for a few moments more, like he was savoring each and every new part of you he explored. You felt his cock hard against your leg. You shifted your thigh, giving him just the lightest sensation of friction. The groan he mumbled into your skin made you feel hot between your legs. You clenched your thighs together, trying to get some relief.

His hand traveled down to your stomach, caressing the curves and grabbing a soft handful of skin. “Good…” He whispered. You shivered as his hand glided over your hips, so close to your entrance. He reached for the inside of your thigh, pulling it over into his cock. He let out another breathy sigh that left you completely slick with desire. His hand hovered over the mess of hair covering your mound. You opened your legs, giving him permission.

He started by slowly palming you, just beginning to give you the attention your pussy was desperate for. You felt a finger slip past your folds, getting drenched in the slickness. Khargaad shifted you up a bit so he could have better access to your chest. He dipped down, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucked playfully. “Oh f-fuck-” You were stuttering at the pleasure of it all. He grinned into your chest, “Keep making those noises sweetheart.” The pet name made your heart flutter.

He kept gently probing a finger up and down your slit, until he dipped one down just at the beginning of your entrance. His fingers were bigger than your own, but this wasn't so much of a stretch. He slowly sheathed the finger in you, “Tight.” He grunted. He made a come hither motion into that sensitive spot of your inner walls. You yelped out a completely sinful moan as he prodded you a few more times. His finger exited your hole, pulling the wetness of your cunt onto your swollen and sensitive clit.

“Khargaad-” Your hips bucked up into him as he swirled long languid circles around that little bundle of nerves. He pulled off, and sat back on his knees, “Can I taste you?”

It was the way he asked more than anything. Like he was close to begging for it. You nodded, spreading your legs for him. He settled down in front of you, using both of his thumbs to spread your lips apart. You felt the tip of his fat tongue probe your needy pussy. He reached up to play with your nipples, while he moved up to your throbbing clit. He started with light kitten-licks, making you whine and buck up into his mouth. That wonderful tongue of his made swirls and then quick flickering motions over the sensitive spot. At this point you were almost completely lost in pleasure, and reached down to thread your fingers through his soft brown curls. 

You were already sensitive when he started, so you were very close to finishing. You actually yelled when he inserted a finger into you. Prodding that sensitive spot while attacking your sensitive clit; it was making the most obscene wet noises. “Close.” That was all you could manage as he devoured you. There it was, feeling crushed over you like a ton of bricks. You coated this hand, legs spasming. He dipped down to lap up the remnants of your release. Your taste, your smell, the feeling of his hair clenched in your fist. He was addicted.

He leaned back, taking in his work. You had a hand on your forehead and a hand on your chest, calming down from what you just experienced. You glanced down at him, both hands on his thighs. His cock was completely erect, tip glistening with pre-cum. It was so heavy it bowed down under its own weight. “Y/n…” He was trying to figure out what to say next. His cock needed to be buried in your pretty little cunt. He needed to bottom out into you. He wanted to hear the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your skin with every thrust. But he couldn’t say that, though. He didn’t want to push you if you weren’t ready.

So when you propped yourself up on your elbows, legs spread for him, he almost felt like crying. His human mate was so strong. So ready for him.

He crawled over you, pinning your legs over his shoulders. He took the base of his cock into his fist, guiding it slowly over your folds. You were so warm for him. He pushed his pulsating tip past your lips, wincing from the sensitivity. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, but you were completely entranced watching his cock slide into you. His tip found your hole, sliding in but not going any further. He was absolutely strangeling the pillow he was resting his hand on, trying to maintain control. Khargaad was watching you, every little subtle expression. He kept sinking himself into you, stopping when you made the first wince of pain. He was big, and you were so tight. 

“Y/n?” You looked up at him through those pretty lashes. He nearly lost it all right there, just from the eye-contact. You got off of your elbows, leaning down completely. You gave a little nod, still making direct eye contact. Slowly and gently, he worked his way in until his hips were flush with yours. He leaned back, still buried in you, letting you adjust to the stretch.

He wouldn’t last long at all, seeing you like this. Your little face with knotted brows, arms thrown overhead. Khargaad brought his hand to your stomach, rubbing little circles into the soft skin with his thumb. You were perfect. Perfect to take his seed. Perfect for growing a little half-orc.

He wouldn’t yet, of course. Not until you were ready. For you, he would wait as long as needed. But his strange orc hormones and instincts craved it beyond explanation.

He began rocking out and back into you, keeping a slow languid pace. You reached out for him, and in an instant his head was nuzzled in your neck again. His pace started to ramp up a bit, earning little mewls from your lips. Oh he definitely wouldn't last much longer. “W-where…” His breath hitched in your ear. “Huh?” You were too flustered to try to understand what he was asking.

“Going to-” He was hissing and groaning, barely able to work out a sentence, “On your body- ah- or o-on the bed?” His motions were getting jerky. “Fuck- sorry- oh fuck.”

He pulled out just barely in time to empty himself onto your stomach. He fucked his rough fist through the climax, sighing at the sight of his seed coating your tummy. It felt a lot warmer than you expected, and much more… volume. He finally let go of his cock, reaching for a linen cloth and dunking it in a bowl of water he had set nearby. “I made a mess…”

He sounded so guilty, and you giggled at him teasingly. One of his hands cupped your face, while the other softly wiped the length of your cunt, messy from your own slickness. He wiped the cum that was coated across your stomach, being careful not to spill any on the bed.

“You did so good.” He started cooing sweet nothings to you while running his thumbs across your cheekbone, “Wore me out…” He chuckled, throwing the rag across the room. He yawned and stretched his arms above him.

“Do you want me to go home now?” You were all too familiar with the stories women told about men finishing and ordering them to leave. You didn’t quite have the confidence yet, to advocate for yourself. To tell him you wanted to spend the night wrapped up in his arms.

For Khargaad, this question felt like an arrow to the heart. Had he not done enough? To make it clear how badly he needed you with him? He laid down next to you, pulling you close, “I would kill the person who would try to take you from me right now.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is Part 5 for you lovelies <3 <3 <3 btw Khargaad is living in a yurt, that's what I was trying to describe lol.

I attached a playlist I put together. These are the songs I've been listening to while writing this, if anyone wants to hear the vibes :3

Tagged List <3

@reads-stuff-quietly @loo-looland @sluttygirl123 @beaniebaneenie @blushycadaver @sunndust @whyiamadegenerate @the-attic-of-porcelain @freakyotaku059-blog @youknowits-derea @thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @allthecraftandthings @gruffle1 @kennedyabraxas123 @queenies1x1 @jellyslimesofficial @jasminedragoon @rangoismyname @the-queen-of-sorrows @the-dumber-scaramouche @heddaloddafun @swimmingrascalbatdragon @hellodollstuff @wingedghostpepper @pistachioinfernal @honeybaegle @sammehshark @dij-ology @forgemotherkestrel @wafflefries786

[bogkeep]

in which i tell you about medieval timekeeping methods

ok we gotta start with BABYLONIAN TIME and SUNDIALS because this is the Foundation. this is what they used for thousands of years. pretty much every structure we have for understanding and conceptualizing time is based on The Movements Of The Universe - years, months, days, this is how we understand Time to pass. the sun and stars were used for keeping time since Always!!!! there were also multiple ways of keeping time with the Shadows of the sun, not just sundials, but also tablets to measure the length of shadows. And Such

BABYLONIAN TIME is twelve hours daylight, twelve hours nighttime. this makes very good sense considering Sundials, you just split the indicators into twelve parts. don't know why Twelve specifically other than that the babylonians liked it, but it is a very nice, divisible number, and its been kept as the base for all the hour keeping systems i've read about so far.

but yes this does mean that a babylonian hour does not have a set, static length like a modern hour does...! it changes with the seasons and the place, so a babylonian winter hour is different from, say, a winter hour in northern norway. it probably helps to be closer to the equator and reliable sunny weather.

until the invention of mechanical escapement clocks, babylonian time was The main, foundational understanding of timekeeping, BUT...!!!!!! the church put a spin on it. what the monasteries needed to keep time for was Prayer Times, which they had seven of and were based on the passion of the christ. so they signaled the Seven Canonical Hours, starting at sunrise, ending at sunset. church bells is also how people kept time, because you could hear them out in the fields. timekeeping was a bit of a wibbly wobbly art but accuracy wasn't That important.

the various methods used to keep time in addition to sundials included: the cock's crow, candles, hymns, incense, and water clocks. not hour glasses, as they were invented around the same time as mechanical clocks. isn't that wild!!!!!!!

WATER CLOCKS, also called clepsydra, are a diverse category of clocks ranging from a container with water dripping out of it at a steady pace, to complex hydraulic mechanisms with weights and stuff that i honestly have yet to grasp. the simple versions were used in classical greece + rome in the same way you'd use hourglasses, to keep track of speech time, watch time, et cetera. the islamic world + china were the ones to develop the complex water clocks. there's documentation of a water clock in gaza that had like, moving automata and stuff around year 500. there was a water driven astronomical clock in china around year 1000. water clocks made a comeback in europe around the 1100ds, and were getting more widespread use. like at least they work at night, unlike SOME dials

"mechanical clock" is a bit of a misnomer since water clocks were clearly also mechanical, and the exact time of invention of what we think of as mechanical clocks is Vague. the word "horologia" was used to refer to any kind of timekeeping device, including the noble rooster, so it's a bit of a semantic haze.

they had astrolabes, which Could be used to tell the time, but weren't used to do that in the daily life. scientists wanted to make an automated astrolabe for like, the Science, they just needed to invent the perpetuum mobile first and then combine them. obviously.

the missing piece for the MECHANICAL CLOCK was the escapement, the mechanism that regulates the time with which the gears turn. once they got this going, probably early 1300ds, they got the shows on the road. the shows being: the astronomical clock, and the public striking clock. these were considered different things, you see.

the astronomical clock is the Automated Astrolabe. it shows the movement of the sun and moon and stars and as a consequence, the Time. they had dials that people could read the time from, but they were generally considered objects of prestige and god's glory, kind of like cathedrals. they often had moving figures and such.

now, public clocks that mark the hours with sound, THAT'S a timekeeping device. they didn't even have clock faces at first, and it really is so interesting to think about how looking at a clock wasn't considered the main way to tell the time. these clocks seem to have originated in italian cities and spread from there, and this is where we get ITALIAN TIME.

to show babylonian time with a mechanical clock is impractical. the machinery is good at regular movement, to show babylonian hours you kind of need the astrolabe. so italian hours were static and unchanging in length. you had twenty four hours in a day, and the cut-off point was half an hour past sunset. that was the end of the twenty fourth hour, and a new calendar date begun.

of course, the time of the sunset keeps changing all the time As Well, so these clocks had to be adjusted for that Continuously. which was annoying but they still did it until the 17th century. this method was used in italy, bohemia, silesia and maybe poland? i'm unsure what they used outside these spaces at the time, if they stuck to the babylonian hours even with mechanical clocks and did complex maths about it.

at least the NUREMBERG CLOCK had its own take on it, even if it didn't spread beyond southern germany at all. they used babylonian hours, but instead of changing the length of an hour, they changed the amount. eight day hours and sixteen night hours in december, opposite in june. the tables needed for how many days with how many hours were very complex and annoying also.

the concept of starting a new calender day at midnight, and never needing to constantly adjust day hours or when the sunset begins, WAS known but only used for scientific and astronomical purposes. like that's such a weird way to split the day!!!!! twelve at MIDDAY?? WEIRD. some travellers noted that this was a very practical and elegant solution, though, but travel and far flung communication was still very slow, so mismatched timekeeping was more annoying than inconvenient. but anyway that's for the future to figure out

[lotusarchon]

OHMY GOODNESS HELLO??? THIS IS SO SWEET OMFG SHAHSJSJD AAAAAH ERLANGGGGGG

A drapple with BMW! Erlang Shen (～﹃～)~zZ @lotusarchon

To think you found yourself lucky enough to catch the attention of THE Erlang Shen is a miracle enough, but to be able to get yourself sat on his lap with his arms gently wrapped around your waist while you tell him about your day? Now that's something else.

To him, it doesn't matter what story he hears from you, bad or good; he just feels happy when he hears you talk to him or hears you complain to him. He loves to listen to them all with a smile as he has you so close to him. You fit perfectly in his arms, warm, alive, and his to adore.

He feels at peace when he's with you. You feel like home to him, and he sincerely cherishes you with every fibre of his existence, thanking his lucky stars for you to have stepped into his life.

You, little old you, mortal as you are, are the very person he wishes to spend his life with, and he will love you until the end of your life and find you in the next to be able to fall for you again.

So, whenever you ask him silly questions he hears many mortals in the current modern years asking their lover, for fun or for reassurance, like, "Will you still love me if I were a worm?" he would chuckle and kiss you on the cheek, muttering his answer.

"I can shapeshift to a worm to join you. So, if you end up as a worm, other worms will know that you are taken."

"Really? You would?"

"I have to keep my love mine, don't I?"

[katakaluptastrophy]

You know when you're at a dinner party with God and things start to get...weird...? It's Maundy Thursday, and it's time for more Bible study for fans of weird queer necromancers!

It's currently Holy Week, the week where liturgical Christians reenact the events of Jesus' death and resurrection in real time. And today, it's Maundy Thursday, which commemorates the Last Supper, where Jesus ate with his friends before he was crucified.

Before we get to the Locked Tomb, what's so special about the Last Supper?

There are actually a few significant things that happen during the Last Supper, but this is where Jesus introduces the concept of communion:

Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.” And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood. - Matthew 26:26-28

This isn't actually the first time Jesus has told his followers they will need to literally eat him:

So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. - John 6:53-56

If you're thinking that sounds a bit intense, you're not alone - the Bible says that "many" of his disciples left after being told that they were apparently going to have to eat Jesus to be saved and resurrected.

While many Protestant denominations take this symbolically, Catholicism teaches transubstantiation: that when the priest prays over the bread and wine at mass, they really do become Jesus' body and blood.

With this in mind, let's circle back to necromancers:

"Overseas to Corpus. (She likes the word corpus; it sounds nice and fat.)"

This is probably Corpus Christi College, Oxford (named after the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, where the church celebrates the real presence of Jesus in the eucharist). The symbol of the college is a pelican - there's even a fabulously gilded pelican atop the sundial in their main quad.

What do pelicans have to do with the eucharist? Quite a lot, actually... The pelican is a really old symbol for Jesus, because it was believed to feed its young on its own flesh and blood in times of famine. The pelican on the Corpus Christi sundial is pecking at its own chest.

The pelican, like Jesus, was believed to give its own body to save those it loved.

Okay, so we've talked about Jesus, and weird cannibal birds, but why is this relevant to necromancers?

Specifically, the necromancer, the Necrolord Prime. John Gaius styles himself as "the god who became man", echoing Jesus as "the word became flesh". His entire pastiche of divinity is a sort of bootleg Catholicism. But while Catholicism posits Jesus' offering of his own body as foundational to the salvation and resurrection of humanity to eternal life, John's godhood relies the exploitation of other's bodies as the foundation of an empire of eternal death.

I've mentioned before in discussing Lyctorhood, how vampires have been understood to represent a sort of inversion of the eucharist because instead of consuming Christ's blood to receive eternal life in heaven, they consume other people's blood for an cursed eternal life on earth. John, and the Lyctors who followed him, gained power and eternal life from the consumption, body and soul, of another person.

In Catholic theology, Jesus offered his own body to degradation and death for the eternal salvation of humankind, but John forcibly consumes someone else's in service of his own apotheosis and immortality, dooming humanity in the process. He wants to be a Catholic flavoured god, but without the suffering that entails. But he's perfectly willing to outsource that suffering to others.

There's something just achingly awful about Alecto liking the feel of the word "corpus" - "body" - when she so hates the body that John constructed for her. John describing Alecto as "in a very real way" the mother of humanity and the mother pelican on the Corpus sundial rending her own flesh for her children. John forcing the earth into a personification of femininity and playing Jesus on another's sacrifice. His daughter, unwillingly trapped in her own corpse walking around with the wounds of her significant self-sacrifice like the resurrected Christ but yet again another body exploited by John in support of his performance of godhood. It brings to mind a very different fantastical engagement with Catholicism, where in the Lord of the Rings Tolkien - riffing on St Augustine - suggested that evil cannot create, it can only mock and corrupt. The ethics of The Locked Tomb may be messier than that, but there's something indicative in how John shies away from his creative powers - his abilities to grow plants, and manipulate earth and water - in favour of his dominion over death.

The metaphysical world of The Locked Tomb is clearly not intended to be the same as that of Catholicism. But with hindsight, perhaps John was onto something when he was surprised that he didn't "get the Antichrist bit" from the nun too.

John isn't the Antichrist. But he is, thematically, anti-Christ.

If we're talking about John and Jesus, there's also, of course, the question of Resurrection. But we've got to go through Hell and back before we get there on Sunday...

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi, I wanted to say that I really liked reading your analyses when it comes to flaws in lmk's writing, along with the ranking of the villains that you did. I hope it's alright to ask for advice, since I'd like to make a romantic self insert story with Macaque, but the thing is that I'm worried on how to portray the platonic relationship between Sun Wukong and Macaque. While we still don't know entirety of how Macaque died in his fight with Wukong, I've already made decision to address both of their faults that caused their relationship's downfall. What I'm worried about is how to portray it clearly that it's both of their faults, without making them too OOC. Some fans have tendency to chose sides with their whole situation, which is something I'd like to avoid. But I'm not sure how to avoid that, which is why I'd like to ask for your advice on it.

Sun Wukong and Macaque

A Rundown on the Fallout

This is an interesting question, and thank you for asking! Given how much of their personal backstory is left to viewer interpretation, I’ve included a little bit of mine.

I think the big, big thing that people miss with the Sundial/Shadowpeach fallout is how severely uneven it is. But give me a minute to get there…

Probably the biggest of Past!Sun Wukong’s biggest issues is what I’m going to call “externalizing”. (This isn’t the appropriate way to use that word, but I’m at a loss here) Wukong is bright and loud and happy- and very, very desperate for attention.

Sun Wukong’s literal first action in the world was to excitedly barrel towards a group of monkeys. His first words end with him asking plainly “Don’t ya like it?!” like a child begging for praise from a parent. He shows off to Subodhi’s other students. He eagerly tells a chaotic story to his sworn brothers and is implied to play it up to some degree for attention.

This is direct opposition to Macaque.

Past!Macaque is quiet, withdrawn. He has no ties to other people. He doesn’t pipe up. He’s not bold or confident. So what does Macaque do?

Well, just about jackshit. There’s only TWO members of the six-strong brotherhood that he actually shares interactions with- Sun Wukong and Peng.

Azure Lion? Yellowtusk? Demon Bull King? Macaque literally doesn’t interact with any of them even once. Nobody calls him brother. Flash to the modern day, and he’s the last person Azure bothers looking for.

He doesn’t joke, or tell stories, or try to bond with the rest of the crew. This is literally how he responds to being called a coward and a rodent by a “brother”.

By mildly frowning.

(Side note: WUKONG IS NOT IN THE WRONG FOR NOT DEFENDING MACAQUE FROM PENG. Macaque never went above a mild frown and never acted hurt or upset beyond this little facial expression. If he was sad ((WHICH HE WASN’T)) or seethingly angry ((WHICH HE WASN’T)) then it’s on Macaque and Macaque alone for not defending himself. Wukong is not his brother’s keeper, etc.)

(Macaque, even in the past, was a lot stronger than he’s often given credit for. Did this remark make him unhappy? Yes. Did it break or ruin him? No.)

He has no friends or ties to the past. No mentor and no fellows and no troop. No one likes him. No one wants him. No once cares about him… except for the Monkey King.

All he has is Sun Wukong.

So already they’re on this MASSIVELY unbalance scale where Wukong has a title and a troop and a heaping handful of immortalities and a band of brothers and a sacred weapon and a mountain and and and!!!

And… Macaque has… his shadow powers?

Yeah, they’re not on level footing. Wukong could pull out of the brotherhood and away from Macaque and throw down his staff and still have so, so much!

And Macaque, if he left Wukong, would have next to nothing.

Sun Wukong is his one good thing. His one star in a dark sky. Sun Wukong is all that Macaque has.

Already is this an EXTREMELY unhealthy dynamic, where you’re basically living for a second person without them putting that devotion back towards you-

Which is exactly what causes the downfall of this relationship.

Macaque doesn’t speak up for or against anything. He’s just willing to sit pretty and play along… because it’s for his one good thing.

Because it’s for Wukong.

Even if his brothers don’t like him, or he gets mocked, or he doesn’t want to play along, Macaque grits his teeth and stays- because it’s for Wukong.

Because he can’t lose his one good thing.

So he’ll do anything.

And that’s the problem.

The Monkey King isn’t asking him to shut up and play nice. Nor does he ask for blind loyalty. And he doesn’t ask his friend not to voice his concerns and fears.

Macaque is choosing to do these things.

Because he can’t lose his one good thing.

Macaque is choosing to “internalize” (again, this isn’t the appropriate way to use that word, but I’ve set a precedent here) his thoughts and feelings.

Macaque pulls everything inside, and Sun Wukong pushes it all out.

The First Crack: Uneven Expectations

Macaque is not honest with his thoughts and feelings. He never actually expresses the way he feels to Wukong, which leads to the Monkey King never understanding his feelings. But you know what Macaque DOES do?

He gently and softly nudges the idea of maybe kinda I dunno potentially not taking over the entire Celestial Realm???

But he doesn’t say no.

Macaque never expresses himself or genuinely tries to talk Wukong out of overthrowing the Jade Emperor. He just hints at the idea and EXPECTS Wukong to pick up on his thoughts and wants without any real effort on his own part. He puts ALL of the onus onto Wukong to understand and reach out to him, without putting that amount of time and effort in himself.

Macaque wants to be understood without putting on the effort to be understandable, which isn’t fair to Wukong at all.

The Second Crack: Unfairly Divided Consequences

Wukong is solely punished for the crimes of six men, and left to rot while his sworn brothers run free.

(Quotes pulled from prior analysis)

Sun Wukong is trapped. For attempting to overthrow the Jade Emperor, he is sentenced to FIVE HUNDRED YEARS trapped under a mountain.

Let me elaborate for anyone who doesn't sympathize.

For the next five hundred years, Sun Wukong will be 75% immobile and alone under a nearly lightless mountain. There will be no noise, no stimulation, and no company. He will suffer in silence, and he will suffer alone.

But you know who ISN'T being punished for an attempt to overthrow the Jade Emperor?

Macaque.

Now, this is funny. Wukong leads a six strong band of brothers against the forces of the Celestial Realm, but only ONE of them faces consequences for the rebellion- himself.

Even five hundred years later when Wukong is set free and traveling with his fellow pilgrims...

No one else has faced consequences for the rebellion. All five of Wukong's "brothers" (Azure Lion, Peng, Demon Bull King, Yellowtusk, and yes, Macaque) get away scot-free to continue their plans and schemes.

I would be pissed. You would be pissed. There is not ONE SINGLE PERSON in this world that would NOT be pissed about how blatantly unfair this is.

(End Quote)

This is especially important if you read Azure Lion’s about Wukong “surrendering” as the truth (he is an unreliable narrator), then it’s likely his brothers were spared as a result of his surrender. And still, he’s all alone in this cavern, bored and uncomfortable and angry.

And probably very sad and lonely, too.

The Third Crack: Peach Symbolism

When Wukong wants to cheer Macaque up, what does he do?

Engage in snacking and physical affection that leaves the two snuggled up side by side on a sunny beach.

Seems like the Monkey King has a pretty good read on his best bud!

Now, how does Macaque repay the favor?

After an unknown period of time spent in the extensively explained condition above leaves Wukong angry and frustrated, Macaque comes by to-

Jam a peach into Wukong’s face and act like nothing is wrong at all.

Sun Wukong doesn’t want to pretend that nothing is wrong. He doesn’t want to act like everything is okay. He wants to be free.

But Macaque has put on an act this entire time. He’s played along and kept quiet and complacent and been “good”, and even now is he acting.

So he presents, of all fucking thing, a peach.

Sun Wukong likes peaches, yes. They’re likely a comfort food from a time long past, a constant in his long, long life.

(I bet that on Flower Fruit Mountain there’s a special strain untainted by the push of genetically-modified fruit that’s grown to be chock-full of sugar. I bet it’s his absolute favorite thing in the world to eat. I bet he shared it with the Pilgrims. I bet he wishes he could share it with them again. I bet.)

They’re a symbol of massive freedom- freedom from strife and pain and death.

And having that symbol presented to him so plainly and pretend-happily?

It’s just the final nail in his diminishing coffin of self-control.

The Fourth Crack: Wukong Lashes Out

So, as was unavoidable from the start of his imprisonment- Wukong snaps and rejects the peach, mocking Macaque for trying to cheer him up from a five-hundred year sentence with fruit and a false smile.

But he doesn’t stop there-

The Monkey King continues to castigate his best friend, blaming him for things that are the shoulderweights of six men.

Except he’s not really lashing out at Macaque directly- he’s just lashing out, and Macaque happens to be the nearest target.

There was bound to be a breakdown eventually. No matter how you look at this scenario, anyone would snap. There’s literally not even one person who wouldn’t break down eventually.

And then, Macaque lashes right back, and says something very interesting-

The Fifth Crack: Macaque Lies and Run Away

(Censored quotes taken from same analysis)

No, he didn't.

Macaque nudges the idea. He implies the idea. He hints it, quietly and softly.

"You're really going through with this?" Is not him shutting down the idea of fighting the Celestial Realm.

It's him being a coward and trying to dance around the issue without a direct confrontation.

Not even once does Macaque say: “We shouldn't fight the Jade Emperor."

He directly LIES to present himself as being the better person during this fight.

Macaque is lying to his best friend’s face to make himself look better in this utterly pointless argument, then prepares to run away and never comes back- but not before placing literally all of the blame for EVERYTHING onto Wukong’s shoulders.

(End quote)

Final Crack: YOU are responsible for MY behavior!

Finally, Macaque makes a few last “Nothing is ever MY fault!” statements to Wukong, consisting of:

“You dragged everyone else into this!”

“You put yourself here, not me!”

Which are BOTH blatantly untrue, given that

1. The Azure Lion is actually the one who started the Brotherhood in the first place

2. Macaque is a grown man who makes his own decisions

3. The rest of the Brotherhood are grown men who make their own decisions

4. Macaque went along with the plan willingly

5. The rest of the Brotherhood went along with the plan willingly

6. Everyone took part in the attempted rebellion of their own will and volition

Everyone is responsible for the end result, including Macaque who was there literally every step of the way, but he doesn’t want to accept that!

Macaque wants to be a perfect little victim who can wipe his hands of the matter, and who better to blame…

Then his “one good thing”, who is now utterly helpless and incapable of doing anything about it?

Macaque only finally lashes out and speaks up when there is literally no way to face recourse for it- which is proof of the cowardice lurking inside him.

There’s a big reason that Wukong calling him out for “running away” hits so hard and is what finally prompts Macaque into speaking up and tries to absolve himself of all blame.

Because Macaque knows that Wukong is right.

The first thing that Macaque does when things go wrong is to prioritize himself and run away. (Just remember how he responded to unleashing the Samadhi Fire.) Then, when all is said and past and it’s time to tell the tale, Macaque will whitewash himself- which he does blatantly in “Shadowplay”.

So when his gilded “one good thing” finally cracks the image Macaque built up by being a fallible person who stumbles and slips up and makes very human mistakes?

He abandons ship, and allows his flaws to start sliding out- now Macaque is “externalizing”, which he’ll continue to do to the present day- taking everything inside and putting it out- by projecting and slandering and lying and trying to hurt innocent people.

Essentially, Macaque puts his best friend on a pedestal and of his own will and volition plays the role of “lackey” for nothing in return without being asked, then ditches him over a fight and returns to a much unhealthier group of “friends”, while Sun Wukong is left to serve a lonely sentence as punishment. But because the Monkey King receives punishment and does his time, Wukong is allowed a chance at redemption under the loving and caring eye of his Master, Tang Sanzang, and manages to redeem himself, where his guilty brothers going free leads them to continually rack up crimes that leaves them on the receiving end of the pilgrims wrath.

Okay I’m tired now love you guys ❤️❤️