#I was suddenly struck with inspiration

[gethoce]

A Knightmare in the Underworld: No fighting on the Train

[Prev] - [Next]

[First]

As the train moves on Axe Knight tries to keep the mood steady, pointing out notable locations to Meta Knight as they appear and explaining things along with Blood Knight. Meanwhile Papi just watches the situation disgruntled, only occasionally chiming in with an addition or correction if an explanation seems particularly off to him. Both of the other underworld warriors laugh it off, especially Blood Knight.

"I swear Papi isn't always like that. He's actually a really nice kid, it's just that he really really hates me."

"Everything goes wrong whenever you're involved. The pattern doesn't lie."

"At least I am involved."

Both Axe Knight and Blood Knight begin to laugh heartily. Not even Meta Knight can resist a chuckle, meanwhile Papi's expression darkens even further. Instead of engaging with the insult he looks outside the window to see for how much longer he has to endure the company of these knights.

"Stop at the next station. We'll have to go on foot from there on out."

At that moment a light in the upper corner of the train's dashboard begins to shine and a monitor displays the name of a station. Blood Knight takes a look at it while addressing Papi.

"Looks like we're gonna stop there anyway. Someone ordered a ride."

He tabs the monitor to switch to a different screen which shows a camera recording of the station and is immediately met with a close up of Morpho Knight's face. Holding back a laugh he turns to his guests pointing at the screen.

"Oh, it's… You know. The one we're looking for."

Papi moans, rolling his eyes annoyed about the waste of time he just experienced. Axe Knight chuckles while Meta Knight tilts his head in confusion.

"That I did not expect from them."

"Morpho and I have known one another for a very long time. We're comfortable enough with each other to be silly like that."

"I see. It's like with my crew."

Upon hearing these words from his boss Axe Knight almost explodes from happiness, he can hardly hide his excitement. Papi, still sitting next to him, begins to slowly move away in dismay.

Meanwhile Blood Knight has his eyes on the upcoming station and notices Morpho Knight waiting, however, unexpectedly, they are not alone. Next to them stands Galacta Knight, the Greatest Warrior in the Galaxy!

"That's Galacta Knight. Galacta Knight is with Morpho Knight."

"Galacta Knight is here!?"

He mutters, followed by all three of his guests. Blood Knight brings the train to a halt at the station shortly after and opens the door for the two ancient warriors. Both enter, Morpho Knight smiling at Blood Knight warmly at first greeting him, yet upon noticing Meta Knight they immediately turn hostile and draw their sword.

Galacta Knight jumps into a corner with a flap of his wings and holds up his shield defensively. Without hesitation Meta Knight lets his cape fall back and draws his treasured sword Galaxia from within it to counterattack. As the two swords clash Papi withdraws his own weapon, a nasty looking mace and attempts to swing it in Meta Knight's direction only to be met with Axe Knight's axe.

"NO FIGHTING IN THE TRAIN!!"

"NO FIGHTING ON MY FUCKING TRAIN!!!"

With sudden brute force Blood Knight pushes Morpho Knight out the door using his water ability to help wash them outside the vehicle. The lighter warrior had no choice but to leave the train immediately. At the same time Axe Knight kicks Papi with full power and he as well gets washed out before he can react. Immediately after Blood Knight pulls a lever that shuts the train's doors and additional water is shot from the train's sides to push the two butterfly warriors further away.

The train begins to pick up speed leaving both Papi and Morpho Knight in the mud. The remaining warriors look at each other with heavy breathing. Axe Knight points at Galacta Knight dramatically shouting.

"We found Galacta Knight! Mission successful!"

To that Galacta Knight does a little victory dance akin to Kirby's classic dances with his hands in the air.

"I have been found! What does that mean, though?"

Meta Knight shakes his head in dismay with Galaxia still in his hand.

"That was only one of our goals. I also meant to ask Morpho Knight why they attacked Magolor, Marx and I at The Divine Terminus. Admittedly I should have expected them to be hostile towards me once again."

Then Blood Knight points at him still trying to figure out the situation in his head.

"You! You acted in self-defence!"

"Yes?"

"Great. This is how I'll justify this to Morpho Knight."

He then turns back to his dashboard to check in on the current status. At the same time Axe Knight sits back down followed by Meta Knight and then Galacta Knight. The skull-faced warrior shrugs even though he himself had been concerned for a moment.

"Morpho Knight and Papi both know as well as you and me that fighting is forbidden in here. Lord Meta Knight, however, didn't and is therefore excused."

"Sounds about right."

Blood Knight nods while watching his monitors in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Morpho Knight in the camera footage with no success.

"You see, this used to happen a lot and the train has derailed because of that far more often than I wanna think about. I began to insist on a no-fighting rule in here, anyone who doesn't follow this rule gets kicked out immediately."

"I've been in here while it happened one time. It was almost as bad as that one time the Halberd crashed."

Axe Knight nods along approving of every word his old friend says. The remaining two warriors listen carefully before addressing one another, starting with Galacta Knight.

"Last time we met, when you were travelling with that noddy and the halcandran, what happened?"

"Morpho Knight… absorbed you and then attacked us. We defeated them, but you didn't reappear. We were worried about you, Galacta Knight. I should be the one to ask what happened."

"Apparently Morpho Knight brought me here to fight someone or something. Typical."

To that Blood Knight joins the conversation again.

"Dark Nebula. A negative Matterborn, Darksouldream hybrid. If you guys don't mind I'll bring us there and we quickly take care of them so Morpho has less reason to be mad on us and then I'll bring you all back to the overworld. Deal?"

"Deal."

Everyone agrees, eager to get this whole thing over with. The pressure of the Underworld lays heavy on both the souls of Meta Knight and Galacta Knight, neither wishing to stay for longer than they need to.

[farannir]

evermore (2020) lyrics that punched me in the gut and/or embraced me in the warmest of hugs

[saikkunen]

😘

[birdietrait]

@windslar's tawhay preset + relight

[sakuraspoke]

31 days of ghost // day 3 - favourite song from: opus eponymous ⸸

We may say that all who are so deluded by devils, not reckoning any other bodily infirmities, are lacking in the gift of divine grace. And so it is said in Tobias VI: The devil has power against those who are subject to their lusts. All witchcraft comes from carnal lust, which is, in women, insatiable.

malleus maleficarum // burning witches // the witches (coloured) stand by him // carnal // frenzy of exultations // conventus

a shout out to @dolceterzo whose amazing 31 days of ghost posts inspired this ♡︎

[belovedbow]

you were so emotional

[misericorsalvator]

An Epitaph

Henry didn't know where he was. It was cold, freezing, but that was all he could tell, from the sharp chill that tore through his damp clothes, to the frigid air that felt like icicles in his lungs when he breathed. Even if he was someplace familiar, it would have been impossible to tell through the veil of rime in the air, the thick hoar that coated the ground. But wherever he was, he had to find shelter. soon, before his limbs grew any number that they already were and he lost the three fingers he had left on his right hand to frostbite. It took a good deal of walking, trudging through the snow, before he found something resembling sanctuary. A rocky hovel dug deep into a mountainside he hadn't even noticed was there. The crooked mountaintop loomed far overhead like a wind-swept pine tree, towering over the barren expanse and shielding the small patch of land near the cave's entrance from the worst of the snowfall. It was a narrow fit, the opening more narrow than a coffin, but it opened up into a wide chamber beyond, dark, lit only by the little light reflecting on the snow outside.

Panic stabbed at him suddenly. That chamber felt familiar, though he couldn't recall from where. The rockface of the walls was smooth, man-made, and the stalactites hanging from the domed ceiling above were unnatural, all the same length, jagged and sharpened to fine points. But he had no time to waste on the unnerving interior. The weather outside was getting worse, the wind howling like wolves on a hunt, and soon his shelter would be just as cold and dangerous as the outside. He had to think, find a way to keep the warmth in. Henry returned to the entrance. He twisted around in the narrow space as best he could and began piling up snow with his numb hands, stacking it, pressing it into shape, mouthing breathless curses to himself, until he had built a solid wall halfway up to his neck. It should last. He didn't know for how long, but at least for now, until he could catch his breath. It had to last.

Henry slumped against the wall of the cave. The barrier he had built offered some protection, but he could still feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the gaps and cracks in the snow. A damp chill gnawed at his bones, freezing the air in his lungs. He knew he had to keep moving, to do something, anything, to stay warm and awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not here. Not now. But his limbs were leaden and his body creaked in protest with every movement. His teeth chattered as he tried to think, tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. The harder he tried, however, the more his thoughts seemed to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Panic clawed at his chest once more as he looked around the cavern. The walls seemed to close in, the smooth stone shimmering with a thin layer of rime frost. The ceiling above with the unnaturally sharp stalactites, loomed over him like a mouth full of fangs. He had to get out.

Henry pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. The snow was piling up faster now, further in through the entrance than the wall he had built, and he frantically began to shovel it away with his hands, trying to clear a path through the narrow gap. He shovelled harder, floundered, grappled til his fingers were too numb to move, but for every tiny hopeful opening he made, more snow took its place, as if the storm outside was determined to bury him alive. The cold was unbearable now, seeping into his very soul. Outside, the wind roared, a feral sound that echoed through the cavern and made the air thick with cold. Each breath now was a knife to the chest, each inhale burning his lungs. The snow crawled closer, blocking the entrance fully, and began to cover the cave floor inch by painful inch, forcing the hunter back step by painful step.

Henry's mind was reeling. He stumbled further into the cave, away from the encroaching cold, the bones of his legs creaking in protest. The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to close in on him, the smooth rock pressing down, suffocating. The quiet there was unnerving, an oppressive stillness that made him painfully aware of his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart. The silence of the grave. For what felt like an hour, he pushed himself forward against the stone walls, cowering under the stalactites which were now low enough to graze the top of his head. No matter how far he went, the snow followed close behind, blocking the way back. Henry's movements grew slower, more sluggish, until he could no longer outrun it, and that white frost began piling up around his boots. He felt the fight leave him, his breathing weakened, his heartbeat slowed.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a single snowflake, delicate and perfect, drifting down from the ceiling above. His breath caught in his throat as he watched it fall, impossibly slow, through solid rock. It glowed faintly in the dim light and Henry’s eyes followed its descent, almost hypnotized, until it landed softly on the ground. On something dark, something that wasn’t stone. He crouched down, his stiff knees cracking in protest, and wiped away the snow, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding surface.

A hand.

His hand.

His breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself, at his own lifeless body, crumpled and broken, half-buried in the snow. The wounds were horrific—deep gashes and punctures that were draining the life out of him-- and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn't real.

The snow, the cold, it was all in his head, growing blurry as his brain ran out of oxygen. And the cavern wasn’t just familiar—it was the place he was dying, right now, in the real world. The place where his body was lying, bleeding out into the cold ground, his blood darkening the stone ground.

For a third time, panic surged through him, but it was laced with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The wind howled louder, and now Henry could make out voices, battle cries, screeching and yowling in twisted satisfaction. The snow now poured into the cave through the solid ceiling above, burying everything in its path. He wanted to claw his way out, to escape this nightmare, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. The snow was too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him from all sides. As his vision began to blur, the walls of the cave pulsed, breathing with a life of their own, in tandem with his own slowed breaths. The snow continued to fall, endlessly, burying him, until all he could see was white. And then, from the heart of the storm, he saw a figure—a tall, imposing silhouette that moved with unnatural grace, cutting through the blizzard as if it were nothing. Henry tried to focus, but his mind was slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying like old cloth.

His final thoughts drifted to Bran. A deep guilt welled up inside him. He wouldn’t make it home for Christmas this year. He wouldn’t see his boy’s face light up when he opened his presents, wouldn’t hear his laughter echoing through the house. Regret gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In his last moments, as the darkness closed in, Henry barely registered the sharp pain in his chest—a bite, cold and searing, as if winter itself had latched onto his heart, and his eyes froze over with unshed tears until the world faded and he breathed his last.

In a long-forgotten catacomb in Wales, as the last drop of Henry's blood soaked into the humid ground, something ancient stirred. Beneath the layers of earth and stone, within the crypt that had long been forgotten, a pair of eyes snapped open. After centuries of entombment, something awoke. The blood of the dying hunter seeped into its consciousness, filling it with the remnants of Henry's life, his memories, his regrets. And once the blood had ran dry, the ancient knight rose from his tomb, his eyes burning with a cold, unholy fire.

He tore through the killers, the blood-thirsty beasts who had chased their prey to the ancient tomb, splattering the walls with their undead blood that burnt to ash, until none were left. Then, he looked down at the broken body of the hunter who had unwittingly become his saviour. With a grim sense of purpose, the knight knelt beside Henry’s lifeless form. He whispered words in a dialect long dead, a prayer, perhaps, or a vow. Then, with a reverence reserved for fallen comrades, the knight lifted the hunter’s body and carried him deeper into the crypt, where heroes were once laid to rest, where the knight's own tomb stood, broken apart from within. The hunter was gone, his spirit entwined with the ancient knight’s own, but his legacy would live on, honoured by one of the very creatures he had once sought to destroy.

The knight sealed the tomb with a final, solemn gesture, then left the catacombs behind and stepped out into the warm summer night, into a world which had long outlived him.

[harpyartisan]

I went with Skydancer. ANYWAY Presenting Grisea, warrior, forest guide, and mushroom-gatherer by hobby. An imposing figure outwardly, being startlingly tall, often bedecked in armor of some nature, if not near constantly her armor, she is never the less a very chipper, enthusiastic woman, happy to offer a snack of recently gathered mushrooms.* *Do not under any circumstances accept a mushroom you cannot identify from her. She is seemingly immune to the natural toxins of many lethal fungi, and cannot actually tell what is safe for the average visitor.

[tiercel]

In media im very mixed on elves, i somewhat dislike when theyre just humans but twinkier and cant grow facial hair (though i can appreciate this form of them) I like when theyre more obviously a fae-influenced subspecies of humans... Uncanny elves with eyes that pin like parrots and mobile ears, to human beings seem almost expressionless/stiff faced but thats bc all their emoting is in their ears and eyes

[fittingxivsongs]

[chocolatewoosh]

Slow down and breathe- Calm down my mind- Lie to myself and think- EVERYTHING IS FINE 💣

[mwagneto]

kérlek, mi az a csodás muzsika a videó alatt 🥺 (anyám is reblogolta a videót btw lol)

you're tumblr mutuals with your MOTHER??? babe wake up new type of guy just dropped

song name is мой мармеладный (Я не права) / moj marmeladnyj (ya ne prava)

theres an original but i used the tiktok version for the edit because despite never having been on tiktok someone sent me a fancam with it like, well over a year ago and that version of the song came back to haunt me on monday and wouldn't leave til i made a fancam of two gay politicians with it

[show-tunes]

2 years of my beautiful wife Leshy

[spaghett-onaplate]

a celebratory post: i have just experienced the most fruitful writing 24 hours of my entire life. at 3:30am last night, i started a new fic, wrote maybe 3k in the hours before I slept? continued the next evening at 5pm, and since then the document has reached the grand total of... 12.5k words!! :D

[puttingrobloxmanfaceonthings]

[red-velvet-0w0]

honestly as much as i love Amelia she was always the one character who I never fully understood who she was and what drove her but i think i finaly figured out what makes her tick holy shit it all makes sense