#dustruction

[vaguelyaperson]

after watching The Terror, my roommates and I were most amused by this Netsilik woman witnessing this crew of Brits absolutely self-dustruct in her own backyard. which got us joking about how it would feel to witness a group of non-locals fall apart that badly in your own area, like there's a violent mutiny on the DC metro cause the metro system was too confusing.

thus may we propose an au of The Terror: almost everything is the same, but it's set in DC. instead of ships and survival camps its the downgrade from a nice hotel to cheap motels. instead of lead poisoning it's a series of unfortunate events with spicy food, street vender hot dogs, and bad Chipotle. instead of the white expanse of the Arctic, it's that soulless expanse of faded white neo-classical government buildings. Crozier's alcoholism burns through their funds. James stumbles across a drag queen show and her egg cracks. there's no actual language barrier but somehow only a few of the crew understand USAmerican slang. there's absolutely a party that goes up in literal flames. instead of Tuunbaq it's the DC/Metro police arresting them off in batches (especially when said mutiny and attempted hanging happens on the metro). Hickey, with his god complex, proselytizes to his crew and the locals. the cannibalism still happens in the rebel camp (ie the dirt cheap motel.)

DC locals are fazed by very little of this.

[hobie-doh]

Unused MMD dump!!!

overly Evil Ann, don't actually remember what this was for

This one is titled "What gives you the right to say that" I have no clue what I was doing

Joker dabbing while Narukami and Hamuko vibe as Makoto... runs away?

Yoshisawa's models make weird faces

I had Aigis dance to Mass Dustruction, this face happened and I was amazed by how not aigisy it is (Makoto doesnt make this face when I have him dance

Joker is so extra compared to his siblings

And this one is titled, "Son, you're gay"

Credits time!

Joker, FeMC, and Narukami by Nobody is playing

Ren, Ann, and the half of Haru you can see are all by Lumialle

Makoto and Aigis by elina002

And Bayonetta and Smash Joker are by SAB64

The Violet model credits go to Xelandis, VenusSempai, Lumialle, Lacey3d and SupNovaChan17

all models were found on deviant art :>

[callofdooty]

And Slowly Suffocating, We're Dying

Also posted onto AO3

Fandom: Call of Duty: Ghosts

Summary: Written for Whumpril 2023 Day 23: Smoke | Bloodstains | Sharing Clothes

"It's hard to tell whether the acrid taste on her tongue is a product of the curl of despair running restless in her stomach, or the smoke that has now quickly consumed the room. It chokes her all the same, and as she curls over, knees pressed against broken wood and glass, coughing fruitlessly against toxic plumes, she can't help but feel that this ending, of all endings, is fitting. She always knew the fire would catch up to her. Years of dancing around it, fearing it, controlling it culminated in this one last inferno. Unfair and just, all at once.

Healthy, fearsome cracks and the creaks and groans of a slowly collapsing building were the only sounds to accompany her demise. A symphony of dustruction, though not exactly a score one would think they'd die by, feels all too suited as well. Speaking volumes without words, echoing the life she lived; a life of hatred, spite and vitriolic anger.

But was it?

Begs the question, where did she truly begin? Are ashes truly her foundation?"

OR: Mouse (OC) ponders her regrets, and the inevitability of her own demise.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Logan Walker/Original Female Character (moreso just hinted)

Warning/labels: Blood, Fire, repeated mentions of a corpse, Death, Dying, Character being Resigned to their own death, Grief, Angst, Fire, Smoke, Female Whumpee (is that a thing that needs tagging? There just in case), Murder

-

Hatch is dead.

Years ago, that phrase would have been a relief.

And only shortly before then, the phrase would have been devastating.

And right now...

Well. Right now, both ring true.

It's hard to tell whether the acrid taste on her tongue is a product of the curl of despair running restless in her stomach, or the smoke that has now quickly consumed the room. It chokes her all the same, and as she curls over, knees pressed against broken wood and glass, coughing fruitlessly against toxic plumes, she can't help but feel that this ending, of all endings, is fitting. She always knew the fire would catch up to her. Years of dancing around it, fearing it, controlling it culminated in this one last inferno. Unfair and just, all at once. 

Healthy, fearsome cracks and the creaks and groans of a slowly collapsing building were the only sounds to accompany her demise. A symphony of dustruction, though not exactly a score one would think they'd die by, feels all too suited as well. Speaking volumes without words, echoing the life she lived; a life of hatred, spite and vitriolic anger. 

But was it? 

Begs the question, where did she truly begin? Are ashes truly her foundation? 

Is it even worth wondering at this point?

Probably not. But it passes the time. There's not much else to think about in the face of death. 

A small part of her - lost, hidden and fragile; the part of her long buried - cries out for her to move. But she can't. Over five years' worth of exhaustion weighs her down. The relief, the victory, weighs her down. All too bitter and hardly a hint of sweet. 

And the other part of her, the driving force, yells out as well. Righteous fury that she should get all this way just to die in a way she fought so hard to avoid. Put through hell, just to be put down at the end of it all. It feels like a sick joke. Like all of this was an elaborate, tragic set up just to be laughed upon. 

Figures. Is all the rest of her can scrape up in response. 

Accepting? Or just defeated? Perhaps both. Either way, the efforts of her survival instincts are quashed, and instead of getting back up on unsteady legs - instead of dragging herself up and out and to the hint of freedom she sought for so long - she fell to her side. Tiredly, her eyes drift to a nearby window, and even through the glaring light of the fire she can spot glimpses of stars.

Familiar, almost. 

Instead of burning foundations, there's only trees. Instead of sickening heat, there's only a creeping chill. Snow bathed in blood and moonlight. Hope that was so close, yet lightyears away. Light, scattered and glittering, all within reach. And now all too consuming and overbearing. 

She didn't want to die then. She doesn't want to die now. But life rarely seems to give her choices anymore. 

Besides, she'd resigned herself to this a long time ago. The second she chose the path of revenge, she was well aware of the consequences, well aware that there was no going back. If Hatch was going down, she was too. Scales balanced, slate wiped clean. A fresh start that she could only hope would finally mark this small, violent cycle as finished. Forever. It means nothing in the grand scheme of things, but to her... it's everything.

Dark... Things are growing dark... Smoke, blood loss and exertion perfectly playing their parts in dragging her down. Her gaze falls to Hatch's body, surrounded by and covered in blood. Mostly his. A vision she only ever saw in daydreams, as fucked up as that sounded. The one thing she'd wanted for so long, and it finally happened, To her horror, a tear catches her off guard, slipping and falling onto the floor below, the noise of it easily drowned out by everything else.

There was once a time where she looked up to him with nothing but admiration and respect. After that, a time where she looked up at him with nothing but fear and confusion. And for the last five years, she's glared down at his image with nothing but hatred. In the last moments, there was fear and anger. From both of them. 

Even now, confusion, betrayal and despair rushes through her veins, soaking red patterns of - of all things - regret into her clothes. One tear becomes two, then three, then four, and then she openly sobs, curling in on herself, even as her injuries protest, even as her lungs protest. She's shaking ucontrollably, the cause hard to pin down to just one thing, but she knows one of them is frustration. 

It's all crashing down on her. This is what she wanted. This is what she dedicated herself to for so long. Why the fuck was she crying?

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry---

She doesn't know what she's apologising for, or who she's apologising to. To all the Orcas she failed? To the person she thought Hatch was all those years ago, before he proved himself a traitor? To the Ghosts and her own damned team that she pushed away, used as a means to an end?

Perhaps all of the above. And perhaps, it's also to herself. To the version of her that was lost to her obsessive vengeance. To the version of her that she'll lose now. Because under all the brutality, there's still faint traces of her, lost and frail; a broken bird singing and singing and singing its sorrows to an absent audience, wasting precious breath on a call that none will answer. That none can answer.

Only, birds aren't often victims of themselves.

She caused this. She'd wanted this. And now all that was left was to face the consequences. There's no turning back now, there hasn't been for a long time.

Weightlessness. Noise.

Unwillingly (and yet all too willingly) her eyes close, and she accepts her fate.

-

The grace of cool air, not biting or burning, but gentle. It reminds her of the ocean. It reminds her of home and the other things she no longer has. Painful comfort. Fitting that, even in death, anything soothing must also sting. It's a familiar push and pull, a tide of relief lapping at a shore of agony, and with every brush against the sand, the water reaches further, washing gently over with soft whispers that recede, only to return a few moments later. Despite everything it's comforting, and it's a welcome feeling to die to, much better than the idea of being utterly consumed by vengeful, fated flames. 

By some miracle (if it can even be called that) they managed to recover the body. A gruesome mess, they'd said. Hardly identifiable as a person at first glance. Not surprising, given how badly the fire had eaten away at the building. At the very least, the confirmed death was, if anything, reassuring. Means whole thing wasn't entirely in vain. Means Mouse's years of suffering weren't in vain.

Home. Safety. At long last, she can return to a place that has always been impossible to reach. A place that doesn't exist in the first place.

-

With a sigh, Logan sits on the side of his bed, idly toying with a piece of paper in his hands. But it's more than just a piece of paper. It was a letter. One that he'd found on his bed after they'd gotten back from the whole.. Hatch thing. Just like then, he unfolded it, quickly grazing over the pages.

Mouse's writing is a lot like her: a rough, sharp scrawl that, at first, seems a task to even begin to understand, but when you take the time to look carefully... It's actually not all that difficult to decipher.

"Logan,

Y'know, I used to be pretty alright with words. Back in school teachers claimed I had a "romantic" way with them, if you can believe it. Bet that seems pretty far fetched, considering the way I am now. I doubt I have such a skill anymore, been out of practice for a long while, and it's not like I had anyone or anything to dedicate the words to anyway. 

That sounds pathetic. Sorry. 

I'm writing this to say Thanks, for everything. I've not been the best version of myself for a long time, and god knows I don't make it easy for others to put up with me. In all honesty, it's kind of on purpose. Actually, it's entirely on purpose. After the Orcas, I didn't see the need in forming any kind of relationships past acquaintances. Not like I had any room in my head or my heart for that kind of shit. Despite that, some of you definitely slipped past that restriction, as much as I hate to admit it. That's not to say that I hate you. I don't think I could ever truly hate any of you. If there's anyone to blame, it'd be me, I know better than to be so fucking careless.

I hadn't felt love in a long time, but in the short time we knew each other, I did. I felt... Well, perhaps "loved" is too strong a word. Moreso known. Seen. Up until now, even the mere thought of that was terrifying. I don't want others to see me. At least, not for who I am: A coward and a joke who can't seem to do much but fail over and over again. But you did see it. And despite all of it, you showed me acceptance, even though I don't deserve as much.

I'm not a good person, Walker. I suppose none of us are, really, but it's easier to forgive others than to forgive yourself, I think. With a couple exceptions, of course. Either way, you didn't hate me for that either, or at least I don't think you did. 

I hope you don't hate me now. I'm doing what I need to do. For myself, the Orcas and everyone around me. Consider it a last favour, yeah? Getting out of everyone's hair, so to speak. Ending something that should have been ended over half a decade ago. I always knew it would come to this. At one point, it would have scared me. At one point I would have also been scared of how resigned I am to the whole idea, but I've come to accept it now. This is just how things have to be. A part of me wants to be sorry, but that makes it sound like it was my choice. It is, but it isn't. Not entirely. 

Funnily enough, I think I've become more scared of the other outcome. The one that, surely, does not exist outside the realm of hopeful thoughts and dreams. Been so focused on this goal that I can't see anything after it. I've never feared uncertainty as much I do when I think about coming out of all of this alive.

I don't want to die. But I'm also too much of a coward to live. 

In that case, it does seem like a choice. But in the end, I don't think I'll be the one making it. 

I think you'll understand. You're smart enough. 

This is getting long. Suppose this was more of a therapy session than a thank you note. Sorry about that. 

Thank you, Logan. For letting me experience this feeling before I go. For making an effort that you certainly never needed to make. I appreciate it. Truly. Probably could've done without this last kick of grief, though. Whoever said you can't grieve for something you never had was a fucking liar.

I'm sorry it had to be like this. Better luck next time, I guess. If there is a next time. Haven't given that much thought, either. Maybe uncertainty scares me more than I thought. Fancy that, learning new things about myself just before the end. Life never stops teaching you shit, I guess.

Take care of yourself, Doe-eyes. Thanks again, for everything. You did more for me than you know.

- Mouse"

He spends a little while staring at it, reflecting, before sighing and folding it back up in order to stash it somewhere safe again. Mouse... Peculiar, is probably how he'd describe her. A mix of... a lot of things, few of which he'd say are inherently bad. Definitely not deserving of the hatred she had for herself, but it's not like he could really talk, knowing that particular pattern of thought all too well.

It's easier to forgive others than to forgive yourself, I think. Logan can't help but agree. Still, behind all that tactless attitude lay a person who's not nearly as abrasive as she makes herself out to be. Someone whose definitely a lot more gentle than she'd ever let on. Kind of sad, all things considered. 

A knock on his door snaps him out of his thoughts. He hesitates a little, making sure the letter is properly hidden before he's opening the door, gaze dropping down to meet now-familiar blue eyes.

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

"Couple of the others wanna spar. You coming?" Mouse wastes no time with her words, looking up at him rather expectantly.

"Weren't you told to avoid 'strenuous activity'?" Logan leans on the doorframe, raising one eyebrow. She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"What they don't know won't hurt them."

"But it could hurt you."

"Aww, that's cute," She cooes, immediately smirking afterwards as she steps closer, leering up at him. "Startin' to think you care about me, Walker." Trust her to deflect like this. He doesn't take the bait this time though, and instead fixes her with a more sincere gaze.

"I do care about you." That catches her off guard, if the way she suddenly blanks is any indication. There's a sudden tension, thick and heavy and in a moment of impulse to try and break it, he huffs and pulls her into a hug; arms wrapping around her almost protectively.

Some silent moments pass between them, until Mouse gives simple chuckle as she pat his shoulder. For once, she seems a little lost for words. "Not so bad yoursel', I suppose."

"You suppose?" Logan pulls back a little to glare with mock-offense. Mouse tilts her head and grins.

"'S'at bother you?"

"Uncertainty scares me, I guess."

"Aaalright." Dragging out the word, she pushes away lightly and turns. It's not exactly distressed, but it's definitely a firm shift in topic. A quiet 'you've made your point' before she continues speaking. "'m still going, though. Not every day I get to see Foghorn kick yer brother's ass."

"As if." It's Logan's turn to scoff, "That giraffe of yours has nothing on Hesh."

"Guess we'll just 'ave to wait and find out." That sounds like a bet waiting to happen. Or some sort of challenge. "By the way," she turns on her heel, facing him again, "If you do come, consider changing the hoodie. Don't want people getting the wrong idea now, do we?" She pulls on the fabric of the hoodie he's wearing, and it's only now that he realises it's hers. He must've picked the wrong one up earlier. Shit.  He flushes a little with embarrassment before trying to play it off, tugging her by the front of the hoodie she's wearing and giving her a mischievous grin.

"And what if I do want them to get the 'wrong idea'?"

"Y'playin' a veeery dangerous game, Doe-eyes. Highly suggest givin' up before you end up out yer depth."

"I'd never say no to a good challenge."

Mouse snorted at that, batting his hand away lightly and starting off down the hall.

"That's what your brother said about sparrin' with Fog." She snickers, "Don't be late. Whoever's right gets braggin' rights. Maybe even a kiss, who knows!" 

Logan watches her go, probably looking a little too fond. 

They'll talk about the letter. One day. For now, he's just happy she's still here.

And Mouse... She's found that maybe uncertainty is less terrifying when you're not alone.

She's pretty happy that she's still here, too. 

[jadesbre]

you will kill   —   kill   —   kill !

[adraughtofamortentia]

.

[patheticpat]

Battle of Final Atrium

I have no regrets over how long I labored over this thing. None. Nada. 

The Information:

-Time Spent: Two weeks and four days

-Layers Used: 210

-Program Used: FireAlpaca

-Better Quality: Deviantart/Newgrounds

[channieults]

guess who got out early bc i lied so fucking much :D

[sweetrole]

*Undercover*

Liam: please, just shut up and pretend to be my husband!

Theo: NO WAY! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN THINKING! A HUSBAND! LIKE A DOG ON A LEASH! I AM DEATH! I AM DUSTRUCTION! I AM THE FIRST CHIMERA OF THE DREAD-

Liam: *Hugs tree*

Theo, whispers to tree feircly: Take your filthy hands of my husband, understand!!

[mediumsizetex]

Dustruct-O-Bot by HigglyTownHero

https://higburger.tumblr.com/

[zeirasworld]

end of world fire and dustruction everywhere, the guardian has failed . now he is summoned to the concil of guardians and sent to another world similar to theirs yet uncannily diffrent. there is their aunt but is it really their aunt, their friends are they really their. they need to protect this world so it doesn't end up like theirs but it is so strange that they don't know they should... a concept about a half demon

[txbbo]

Okay so, i under everything youre saying but have you considered, dustruction (in a video game and roleplay setting) is fun? And therefore good? /j

I just want to say your takes are super interesting and really fun to read! I hope you can bring us more of these :)

Hahaha of course!!! My analyses are just me examining Techno’s character and motivations and are just meant to be a counterpoint to “Techno apologists”. You can 100% enjoy a character for their villainy or “bad acts” or destruction or whatnot. It’s mainly to say “but is he actually in the right here? like he says he is?”. Like I can say I enjoy Dreams character! but I am well aware that he is the bad guy.

And thank you!! reading people’s complements on my rambles makes me feel really good and I appreciate every single note. I will definitely be doing more! I just write as inspiration strikes really. I once posted like 5 or 6 posts in one day and then went a good week or two with nothing - it really depends on what’s going on in the lore and how inspired I am. Although I am going back to uni work tomorrow so not sure how that’ll effect me being able to watch all the streams.

[vitanivortex]

Nostalgia

Sponsored By DRD, Backbone, and MudHoney

- MudHoney Briar Beanbag Chair w/ Pillow Adult - Fatpack (EEEEE the soft looking texture on these are so lovely you can change the colors of the chairs and pillows the chair can change from Black to Beige, Blue, Brown, Gray, Green, Plum, Rust, Salmon, Tan, White, & Yellow with the pillow being able to be the same colors. available in mainstore) - MudHoney Briar Beanbag Chair Adult - Fatpack - BackBone Onigiri Plushie - Excited (Here is the newest addition to the BackBone group gifts! you know you wanna join the group and pick up all the past and present gifts! I mean look at these RICE BALLS!) - BackBone Onigiri Plushie - Grumpy - BackBone Onigiri Plushie - K.O. - BackBone Onigiri Plushie - Nya - BackBone Onigiri Plushie - UwU - BackBone Cube Table - DRD - Chartbusters - Movie star pins (When I first saw this set it immediately took me back to walking into the movie rental stores walking around and picking up the VHS smelling the cardboard used to hold the movies the old PC at check out oh how I wish movie stores were still a thing. when putting this together I put myself into the mind set that maybe I bought out a old store and put it in my basement so i could relive it when ever I wished and you should to! weather its in your basement or in town get yours at Uber Event) - DRD - Chartbusters - arcade - star space - DRD - Chartbusters - broom static - DRD - Chartbusters - candy station - DRD - Chartbusters - fridge - DRD - Chartbusters - counter - DRD - Chartbusters - ceiling spots - DRD - Chartbusters - lunch break - DRD - Chartbusters - cutout board - dangarnon - DRD - Chartbusters - cutout board - dawn of dustruction - DRD - Chartbusters - frame - scifi - DRD - Chartbusters - frame game zone - DRD - Chartbusters - frame video game fluorescent - DRD - Chartbusters - frame - michael - DRD - Chartbusters - frame - betty - DRD - Chartbusters - frame - anthony - DRD - Chartbusters - frame - annette - DRD - Chartbusters - lollypop display - DRD - Chartbusters - pile of casettes B - DRD - Chartbusters - pile of casettes C - DRD - Chartbusters - pile of casettes D - DRD - Chartbusters - poster - rewind - DRD - Chartbusters - poster - 3 tapes for 1 night - DRD - Chartbusters - poster - game over - DRD - Chartbusters - frame game zone - DRD - Chartbusters - poster - dress groovier - DRD - Chartbusters - poster - future of videotape - DRD - Chartbusters - frame space attack - DRD - Chartbusters - frame video game fluorescent - DRD - Chartbusters - frame true gamer - DRD - Chartbusters - frame - scifi - DRD - Chartbusters - vhs rentals mixed - B - DRD - Chartbusters - vhs rentals mixed - D - DRD - Chartbusters - vhs rentals mixed - A - DRD - Chartbusters - vhs rentals mixed - C - Scarlet Creative Ana Loft Skybox - { MoonPhase } 90s Magical Girl_VCR System - malone. dusty rug - tarte. backyard movie screen (add your own image) - David Heather-Projector

[callofdooty]

WIP Wednesday, we're gettin' stuff done lads.

Working on my Whumpril stuff :)

TW: Mentions of death, fire, smoke

It's hard to tell whether the acrid taste on her tongue is a product of the curl of despair running restless in her stomach, or the smoke that has now quickly consumed the room. It chokes her all the same, and as she curls over, knees pressed against broken wood and glass, coughing fruitlessly against toxic plumes, she can't help but feel that this ending, of all endings, is fitting. She always knew the fire would catch up to her. Years of dancing around it, fearing it, controlling it culminated in one last inferno. Unfair and just, all at once. Healthy, fearsome cracks and the creaks and groans of a slowly collapsing building were the only sounds to accompany her demise. A symphony of dustruction, though not exactly a score one would think they'd die by, feels all too suited as well. Speaking volumes without words, echoing the life she lived; a life of hatred, spite and vitriolic anger. But was it? Begs the question, where did she truly begin? Are ashes truly her foundation? Is it even worth wondering at this point? Probably not. But it passes the time. There's not much else to think about in the face of death.

[neekrobite]

i wonder what percentage of travel ads show someone in it commiting vandalism or dustruction of proporty just because i just remembered how common they show it

[askyaboionicole]

Whether you think the Birchwood Oni is Cole or not, please don't try to kill it, you all know that not all Oni are evil dustructive creatures just think about mistake she wasn't hell bent on destruction. The most we know is that it is lonely and scared, scared that you give are going to try and kill it, scared that it's all alone. So please don't harm it

“Well they have a point. If Mistake could be good anything’s possible. It’s spent months out in the woods by now, maybe it doesn’t want to destroy anything anymore.”

[ao3feed-kurthummel]

Kiss & Tell

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2FqEhjx

by Knightfall101

After the egging of Rachel, the rivally between New Directions and Vocal Adrenaline intensifies to the point of possible dustruction, so Shelby and Will hatch a plan to put out the growing fire between the two teams in hopes that they'll all at least be able to sit in the same room with each other without trying to kill each other aka getting them to sit down and play (trust) games with each other. What happens when Jesse St. James acts weird and starts hitting on one Kurt Hummel during these 'games’? St. Hummel.

Words: 8107, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Fandoms: Glee

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Kurt Hummel, Jesse St. James, New Directions, Vocal Adrenaline, Shelby Corcoran, Will Schuester

Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Jesse St. James

Additional Tags: Kissing, Flirting, Blame Jesse for that one, minor homophobia, Minor Sexual Harassment, Like really minor, Dealt with quickly, they get what's coming to them, Baby penguin Kurt Hummel, Protective Jesse

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2FqEhjx This is an automatic feed of all new stories posted to the Kurt Hummel tag on AO3. Because of that, it is not guaranteed that Kurt is the main character in the story. There is also no judgment made as to ships, length, or warnings. Please verify content upon clicking through to AO3.