empty-dusk

[empty-dusk]

Star Command and whatnot.

[empty-dusk]

Children please stop calling the slightest hint of sexual desire “gooning” I’m going to strangle all of you

[empty-dusk]

[empty-dusk]

hi, a lot of you need a perspective reset

the average human lifespan globally is 70+ years

taking the threshold of adulthood as 18, you are likely to spend at least 52 years as a fully grown adult

at the age of 30 you have lived less than one quarter of your adult life (12/52 years)

'middle age' is typically considered to be between 45-65

it is extremely common to switch careers, start new relationships, emigrate, go to college for the first or second time, or make other life-changing decisions in middle age

it's wild that I even have to spell it out, but older adults (60+) still have social lives and hobbies and interests.

you can still date when you get old. you can still fuck. you can still learn new skills, be fashionable, be competitive. you can still gossip, you can still travel, you can still read. you can still transition. you can still come out.

young doesn't mean peaked. you're inexperienced in your 20s! you're still learning and practicing! you're developing social skills and muscle memory that will last decades!

there are a million things to do in the world, and they don't vanish overnight because an imaginary number gets too big

[empty-dusk]

The dead thing you leave behind

Sometimes, things you do to others come around to bite you in the ass. And maybe to teach you a lesson or two. Also known as Zarok finds out why raising people from the dead isn't very fun for the dead.

A what if story about if Palethorn decided to raise Zarok during the second games story.

Word count: 2320 Fandom: Medievil, Medievil 2 No ships, mostly just sorcerers being cranky at each other

______________________________________________________________

The floor met his body quicker than Zarok had hoped, breaking apart the spell he’d wreathed himself in.

His beastly form broke apart like a stone statue, scattering across the wide arena and leaving him and his battered body on the floor. The bad side of transformative spells, you always carry the damage over to your own form. The tradeoff for power, as it was. While the physical spears had fallen where his other form had shattered, the wounds remained, red blood barely distinguishable from the lavish fabrics he’d dressed himself in. He still felt it, though.

The creeping touch of certain death.

The sorcerer lifted himself up, just to see his enemy standing there. Zarok didn’t want to see the jawless twit stare at him. He focused on his trident, picking it up for support. “Curse you, sir knight… I am finally defeated…” The words were surprisingly calm, even if bitter. Fortesque gave no response, even to this quite courteous show of apparent validation to his ‘great’ deed. For the better, Zarok decided. It’d only be worse if he gloated.

Still, spite rose up in his chest and with spite, determination. Wrangling his pained body upright, Zarok finally met Dan’s only remaining eye with his own. He did always like how the knight’s expression withered every time he grinned. Probably more so this time, with how his teeth were painted with his own blood. “But if I am to fail… then all shall come with me!” Magic flowed from his body into the focus that was his trident, lighting the area in eerie green light. Despite mortal wounds, he let the current carry the trident off into the air, all the while staring at the skeletal knight with a nigh manic expression. “You’re doomed, Fortesque!” he mocked, feeling surprisingly good about the moment. Magic rattled the foundations, making stone crack and metal give way. The whole room shook, making Daniel whip his jawless head around. The damn coward was starting to back off.

“You’ll never leave this domain!”

With that, the charge fully released, dropping the trident heavily back into Zarok’s hand, dragging the slight man onto the floor due to its weight. He silently sneered as he saw Daniel run like a headless chicken, the ceilings foundation having given out.

In his stupor, he failed to see the growing shadow on top of him.

And with that, it all went black.

Zarok had never given much thought to dying. All he knew was that he wasn’t considering on doing it himself. At the ripe age of 150, you would think you’d know just how to navigate avoiding it, but here he was. Having accomplished this distasteful state of being. In life, he knew that spirits of both living and dead were real. He knew that they went somewhere to spend their afterlives.

If he’d been alive, he would have wondered… was this darkness all there was to it? To call the state he was in consciousness would have been a mockery of thought. It was a vague knowledge of being, knowledge that it was cold and he was alone. There was no sound, no thoughts. Just feelings, vague and ethereal. It was uncomfortable and yet Zarok found calm in it as well. Like a cold lake, welcoming you in. He could remain here…

The serenity passed, however. The cold darkness turned to piercing, like icy blades being driven into your body and your body being torn apart. In that strange state of being, it was hell. The pain was physical, it was emotional, it was you. Every bit that was you was frozen, shattered, put back together again and again and again.

How long had it been? When would it end? Was there an end? If coherent thought could exist in this little void, the sorcerer would have tried to find the answer feverishly. Anything to take the edge of the pain.

Anything.

And then, a cut sharper than the ice, sharper than any blade he’d ever seen. It hurt, it pulled, it tore. It roused him. From the cold waters of his torment, thought and sensation flooded back in. The cold remained, but whatever anchor it was, it tore him from the ice.

And then, he woke up.

Perhaps waking up wasn’t the correct term. He’d come back to reality was more akin to it. Zarok saw the world, experienced it once again through a body. An unfamiliar ceiling stared back at him. Not the collapsed stone and metal he’d expected, but dark wood. What was this place?

A light source moved in the corner of his vision. No matter how much he tried to look, his body didn’t move. His vision also felt far too one sided… Had it always favored the left side of his head? The light came closer, finally revealing itself to be an oil lamp, though of design Zarok didn’t recognize. Nor did he recognize the man holding it. A square face, a blind eye, scarring… and the telltale signs of magic corruption. Red skin, pointed ears. Surprisingly, no horns. A fellow sorcerer, perhaps?

Zarok wanted to demand an explanation of whatever was happening here, but no sound left his mouth. His jaw barely moved at all. All he could do was stare. The man leaned over him, frowning. “He’s in there…” he surmised. “Did you dolts draw the damned runes right?!” He turned to look behind him, where the paralyzed sorcerer couldn’t follow with his limited line of sight.  “All according to your instruction” was the answer, the voice slow and calm in contrast to the man’s who hovered over him.

The man along with the light disappeared from his line of sight, followed soon by what sounded like a smack upside the head. “Get the damn lights on, you idiots. I need to figure what went wrong.” Soon, the trapped sorcerer could see two figures scurry about the space. One tall and slender and one big and wide, much like his lamp holding colleague. They light lamps around the room, before scuttling out of sight once more, leaving Zarok to bonder their strange clothing. All of them were dressed quite strangely. He enjoyed standing out himself, but these three seemed just dull. Strange, but in a dull way.

“Now, let’s see…” Someone was flipping pages, looking for something. Zarok was beginning to hate being unable to be nosy and turn his head, but his body was like led. Was this how it had always felt? To have a body? “Ah, there we are. To bind the spirit properly, it has to be sealed via…” The rest of the words were mumbled as the other sorcerer read the text. An amateur necromancer, Zarok surmised. Didn’t know that you need more than just one sealing point in the body to--

Zarok suddenly felt dizzy.

Was… was he the corpse?

He didn’t have much time to bonder this, as familiar green light stabbed him in and by all gods above and below, it hurt. Much like the pulling sensation from before, it painfully twisted something into place. Something unfitting, suddenly stuffed into a small container. The ancient necromancer found his jaw finally working, as a screech left his throat. Raw, pained and it didn’t sound like anything he could vocalize willingly.

The lights went out.

The pain ebbed back and forth, until it settled into strange numbness. Zarok now vaguely felt the surface beneath him, could feel his limbs. He hiked himself up on the surface, for the first time seeing something beyond the ceiling. And finally, he turned his head, to face the smug man with a spellbook in his hands. Zarok wasn’t sure what to feel at first… but rage soon decided to be the first emotion to rise up. He did his best to get off the table he’d been laid out on, to punch this damned ignoramus, but his legs gave way almost immediately. Despite this, he crawled, hoisting himself up by the pillars laid around the table. He glared daggers.

“Who… the damnation… do you think… you are?!” Speech came in harsh bursts. Having to think about drawing air into your lungs wasn’t as easy as it felt like when alive.  The man, completely unphased, stood there. “Glad to make your acquaintance, oh mighty Zarok, the necromancer of Gallowmere.” The rough man bowed his head, but it gave the resurrected sorcerer no delight. “Lord Palethorn, at your service. Well, I suppose you are in my service now, rather.” Zarok glared, still. “I…am… no ones serrrrr….servant” he hissed, as he still clung to the pillar for support. Otherwise, he would have considered mauling this supposed lord with his bare hands. Palethorn tilted his head. “You aren’t? Strange that…” He casually flipped open the torn and battered spell book. “It says right here… the summoned undead shall be under the summoner’s dominion, be it brainless or not. Your handwriting, I think.”

The undead sorcerer flicked his gaze to the book.

Zarok reached out, only to be easily denied by a large hand taking his wrist. Zarok only now took notice that below the elbow, no skin nor muscle remained. Palethorn held his skeletal hand firmly. “Finders keepers, as they say. Besides, we’re missing a few pages.” He tilted the book, showing off the torn spine and damage ages must have wrought upon it. Just by glance, Zarok already knew that the parts about properly preserving and preparing bodies were missing. A shame.

“You… used a damaged spell book” he croaked, finally starting to figure how to pace his breath “to raise me. For what?” Palethorn let go of his hand, making the old sorcerer hastily retreat back against the pillars support. “I am not telling you… a single thing! You dare to raise me, knowing who I am and…. and try to lord my own magic over me!” Zarok seethed, skeletal fingers scratching the stone he held onto. He tried to find his magic, that comforting internal presence. He was met with a cold silence.

“Come now, you don’t have to be like that” his supposed master said, tone smooth and calculated. “I’m working on the same thing you wanted. Taking over this damned land!” He gestured widely at the room and by implication, whatever city they were at. “You know, getting your body here wasn’t easy. Nor was the book. You know how much of that corpse is yours?” Palethorn pointed at Zarok, who gazed down at himself. He was shamelessly naked and… dead. No fat, no muscle, just joints under skin that felt pulled taut over bone. Zarok felt shame. He’d always hated others seeing him bare and now someone had left him buck naked AND with stitch marks. It felt violating, knowing that his body had been pieced together.

“Only bit of you left, honestly, is that pretty decayed head of yours. The rest? Too squashed to even try to reconstruct.” Palethorn, seemingly only now remembering, offered a hand mirror to his undead guest. It had been sitting on the stand that the book must have rested on during the ritual itself. Zarok, despite feeling dread creep in, took the mirror. It was so heavy in his hand, but he raised it to his face.

It was both surprising and demoralizing. His left eye stared back at him, coarse stitching covering his right eye socket. His nose was long gone, but his skin had survived, somehow. Zarok could only fathom it was magic prolonging the decomposition process, as it had slowed his aging in life. His complexion was dry and grey, lines he’d never even seen before etched into his face. One of his own pointed ears remained, the other gone without a trace. And his hair… A mere few whisps of his long hair remained. So thin that it would probably get pulled out by the brush, if he tried.

He didn’t remember when he’d last felt quite as he did, looking at himself. But even his worst days in front of the mirror in life hardly could measure up to his dead face, looking back at him. He tried to throw the mirror at the wall, but his failing strength only managed to drop it onto the floor, like his grasp had simply failed. Cracked but as reflective as it was before, the mirror remained.

“I figured you wouldn’t too keen on your looks” the wannabe sorcerer noted, picking up the mirror and laying it back on the pedestal. “But no worries, a few things and you’d be looking as dapper as ever.”

“You… assume I’d let you—”

“I don’t assume, my lord. I command.”

Palethorn might have been a novice, but his magic was real. It forced Zarok’s stiff and weakened body to stand straight and to stare at the red devil of a man. A large hand easily engulfed half of his face, the gruff man squeezing as he did. It wasn’t painful, but Zarok could feel his jaw creak. Like it might break at any moment. “Settle down, why won’t you? You’ll get another ear and hair. A suit properly fitted and---”

Zarok mumbled against his hand. He repeated the mumble, until the obstruction against his mouth was removed. “A properly fitted robe” he said, point blank. “I am not walking around whatever that is.” He nodded at Palethorn and his two henchmen. That made the lot of them pause. “A robe?” his captor repeated. “No no, you’d stick out like a sore thumb. A dress can be arranged.” The dog faced henchman seemed to find that funny, but he shut up as soon as the dead man glared at him. “A dress, then” Zarok said, tone pointed. “And sewing tools, if you please. If I am to be here, the last thing I will do is let you force me to wear whatever.”

Palethorn sighed. “Fine. If it keeps you happy long enough…”

[empty-dusk]

Started playing Medievil 2 and... I didn't expect it to rouse my often forgotten inspiration center, but it has. Made me even write a little ficlet.

Creativity is strange.

[empty-dusk]

[empty-dusk]

Get warm with papa

(For context this is a male rescue cat who climbed into an incubator full of orphaned kittens and went mine now)

[empty-dusk]

Water of Life and Death by Iren Horrors on Instagram

[empty-dusk]

Artillery witch

[empty-dusk]

hi y’all. with the oblivion remaster making waves i just wanted to post that microsoft and its game studios (including mojang and bethesda) are a primary bds boycott target owing to microsoft’s role in the ongoing genocide in gaza. don’t let them undermine that with the oblivion remaster. don’t buy it. don’t give them any money. don’t engage with their social media accounts or hype up the remake. you should probably cancel your eso membership if you have one. personally i’m not even going to post about tes or minecraft for the time being and will be leaving this account by the wayside for now.

palestine is more important than a video game. these are real people with families, hopes, and lives being slaughtered, dismembered, displaced, starved, kidnapped, tortured, subjected to disease, deprived of basic medical care and freedom of movement, raped and blockaded. this is no different than any other genocide. remember that.

free palestine.

[empty-dusk]

Revolutionary lesbians

[empty-dusk]

Bonnie realizing I’m right next to her

[empty-dusk]

i think people get so used to their own creative work that they forget how amazing it is so i’m making this post as a reminder You are the only person capable of making art the exact way you make it. nobody else on earth can do that. there are always going to be those little habits and intricacies and details that simply cannot be replicated whether it’s in writing or painting or textiles and you make life all the better for it i love my friends’ art i love art from strangers im trying to love my own art I LOVE YOU!!! THE PERSON READING THIS!!!!!!! YOU ARE A PART OF THIS WORLD NEVER EVER STOP MAKING THINGS THAT CAN IMPACT IT

[empty-dusk]

But here's the stomper

[empty-dusk]

Eduskunta hyväksyi niin sanottujen eheytyshoitojen kieltoa ajavan kansalaisaloitteen maaliskuussa selvin luvuin 125–49. Pääministeri Petteri Orpon (kok.) ja oikeusministeri Leena Meren (ps.) mukaan hallitus ei silti aio aloittaa lakivalmistelua. Kyse on ensimmäisestä kerrasta, kun hallitus kieltäytyy ryhtymästä kansalaisaloitteen ja eduskunnan tahdon mukaisesti lainvalmisteluun. Asiantuntijoilta ratkaisu ei saa puhtaita papereita. Turun yliopiston valtiosääntöoikeuden professorin Veli-Pekka Viljasen mukaan lain valmistelu tulisi aloittaa. – Lähtökohta on, että kun eduskunta on tällaisen velvoitteen asettanut, valmisteluun ryhdytään siitä riippumatta, onko asia hallitusohjelmassa tai onko hallituksen sisällä asiasta eriäviä mielipiteitä, Viljanen sanoo. Hallituspuolueista RKP ja kokoomuksen enemmistö kannattavat lakia, kristillisdemokraatit ja perussuomalaisten enemmistö vastustavat.

---

Suomen perustuslain mukaan ylin vallankäyttäjä on kansa eli kansanedustajat, ja siksi hallituksen pitää toteuttaa eduskunnan päätöksiä. Viljasen mukaan hallituksen menettely kyseenalaistaa sekä kansalaisaloitteiden että Suomen parlamentaarisen järjestelmän perustaa.

---

Hallitus sivuuttaa sekä 50 000 kansalaisaloitteen allekirjoittaneen kannan että eduskunnan enemmistön kannan. – Ohitetaan sekä suora että edustuksellinen demokratia. Mennään malliin, jossa ensisijalla onkin hallitus, ei eduskunta eikä kansalaiset, Vuorelma sanoo.

---

Oikeuskanslerille oli perjantaihin mennessä jätetty menettelystä yhdeksän kantelua. Kansalaisaloitteen alulle panneen Perttu Jussilan mielestä hallituksen perustelu siitä, ettei kaksi vuotta riittäisi lain valmisteluun, on puppua. – Kaksi vuotta olisi vallan riittävästi, jos näin haluttaisiin. Jussila kertoo, että kansalaisaloite tehtiin tarkoituksella niin ajoissa kuin se on lain mukaan mahdollista. – Se on luovutettu eduskuntaan syyskuussa 2023 eli käytännössä heti kun hallitusneuvottelut oli käyty. Jos aika ei tässäkään riitä, missä kansalaisaloitteessa aika sitten riittäisi, Jussila kysyy.

---

Hänen mukaansa lain torppaamisessa on kyse hallituspuolueiden konservatiivisten ja edistyksellisten näkemysten yhteensovittamisesta: kokoomus sai luvan puolustaa lakia valiokunnassa ja täysistunnon puheenvuoroissa, mutta diiliin kuului, että perussuomalainen ministeri sai torpata sen. – Kokoomus sai näyttäytyä ihmisoikeuksien puolustajana, vaikka käytännössä mikään ei muutu, Jussila selittää.

---

Tänä keväänä eduskunta on saanut eteensä useita kansalaisaloitteita, jotka se on tavanomaisen menettelyn mukaan hylännyt tai hyväksynyt. Uutta on kuitenkin se, ettei loppusuoralle päässyt kansalaisaloite etene. – Se asettaa kansalaisaloitejärjestelmän legitiimisyyden kyseenalaiseksi, Veli-Pekka Viljanen lisää.

---