#destruction tw

[heartnosekid]

mikoasmr1 on ig

[clochanam-archive]

ur getting the drabble now bc @freezegirl introduced me to reckless creativity, and now i'm deciding that i'm just unleashing my unedited angst on ye. this is the event that happens on february 14th 2025, where tim finds a file that the company sent to aisling containing information that the irish government developed on how to eradicate the dorchadas virus (a black magical curse placed by moira on unwitting individuals) from a person, with a 98% mortality rate. aisling, being illiterate, understood none of it and tossed it into her wardrobe. but tim found it. and tim has the dorchadas curse. so this is tim confronting aisling about the file:

she'd never heard of the concept of chekhov's gun. not that it would've made a difference. but she'd like the reader to know that she hadn't heard of it until maeve went on a rant after they made it to edgar's safehouse.

but as i said. it wouldn't have made a difference.

she thinks back on the whole thing now. turn back the dial, and there she is. standing in the kitchen, humming a song under her breath as she slices up apples and arranges them on two separate platters. peanut butter, extra smooth, two cans of iced tea (raspberry flavor) and then some sesame crackers on one side of the plates. most of the kids are out. school projects, valentine's dates, khione took most of them to the paper lantern. only sansa and advik are in the apartment, sitting cross legged in his bedroom and playing with the lego.

that's the thing, though. sometimes there's no warning. no strange vibes or red flags. nothing at all. sometimes you're just making sure you picked your son's favorite frog plate, and that your new daughter's glass has the gold rim, and you just can't see it coming. because it isn't.

until it's at your door.

it swings open so violently that the handle cracks against the wall. she remembers seeing the plaster dust next to eli's sneakers. and then it slams shut, so hard that the pictures on the kitchen wall shudder, and she still doesn't see it. i doubt anyone could've seen it. she's a mother, after all. raising teenagers. and it's valentine's day. her mind doesn't entertain the unreadable file in her closet. her first assumption is that someone - tim - got stood up or dumped. and so she isn't angry or frightened. she's just concerned. and for a teenager who just learned that his mother has kept a file containing details on how to potentially kill him... it all reads as fake.

" tim? "

" shut up! JUST SHUT UP! "

she does. his face is flushed, eyes red, hair tousled in an icy breeze that reddens his nose as well. aisling goes to step closer, when she catches a glimpse of it. the black lines, coursing veins in his wrists. a prickle of terror tingles at the base of her neck.

" how long have you had that file, mom? huh?! "

" baby--"

" ANSWER ME! "

" what file?! " she has a hand lifted, a calming gesture, but he closes the distance and slaps it to the side. she takes a half step back; not out of fear. she's not afraid of her children, and never will be. but she's not about to crowd him. not when he's like this.

" don't bullshit me! " tears are streaming down his cheeks. somehow the curls on his head are sticking out even more now, even without being touched. she raises both hands, shaking her head emphatically.

" tim, what file? please-- "

" what f-- how MANY do you have?! the one about dorchadas! "

her heart drops into her stomach. the name is too familiar. but as soon as he's said it, realization engulfs her, and a hand lifts to her mouth. the file. the fucking manila file left on the doormat two months ago. a file stamped with the american flag and words beneath it that made no sense. pages upon pages, over a hundred, no pictures, nothing but words, words, words, indecipherable and impossible for her to glean any meaning from.

tim misinterprets the horror as guilt.

" you knew. "

her voice is gone, and it takes three valuable seconds to start speaking again.

" i-i was sent a file, but i had no clue-- "

" it was on the fucking COVER, mom! "

" honey, i didn't know what it was! " she's just reaching to try and cup his face, when she sees it. thin, black veins, spiderwebbing over his chest, scratching up his throat. the fear registers on her face, her posture, her breathing, and he shoves her backwards in outrage, knocking the plates to the floor with a splintering crash.

" god, stop LYING! i see it in your face right now! you want it gone! "

" yes! yes, i do, i want it gone, IT, not you, NEVER you! they-- "

" STOP! " there. a tiny release, god, it's a bare crackle of it, and the damage is instantaneous. like pitch black electricity, it crackles in his eyes, and the window disintegrates into tiny splinters, the photos charred at the edges, a loud fizzing and BANG as the fusebox shortcircuits and the electricity is cut out across the entire block. it's a split second, and it ends just as quick, tim shaking as he sobs brokenly. " how could you?! "

" oh, tim... " betrayal. she's betrayed her own. and the pain on his face is far more agonizing than any knife. tears slip down her own cheeks, and she steps over the glass, closer to him. it's what i've been trying to say. you never see it coming. only this time, she really has no reason to think it might come again. it just happened, after all. so surely this is the cooling off period. she'll fix this. she'll burn the file, maybe use the flames to set fire to the gasoline tank in xavier's car. she'll help tim. they'll figure it out! he's just upset, he doesn't get it, and she'll tell him the truth at last. she can't read, tim. that's all. it's just a horrible mix-up, an ugly trap set by them, but it's going to be fine.

it's all going to be okay.

promise.

she's just a few inches from touching his shoulder.

and then it all goes to hell.

" GET AWAY FROM ME! "

WHAM! it's like a volcano erupting, black clouds spilling from him, a radius of pure darkness expanding from his chest. his arms are flung out, and she can see it. he only meant to shove her. she crowded him, you see. he wasn't ready. and now his face is white with terror, wide with regret, apologies carved by his tears. he's sorry. so sorry. but the damage has scarcely begun--

CRASH! the walls cave in like they're made of tissue paper. the tiles crumble to shit. concrete dissolves, wood crackles, the cloying cling of smoke fills the room, and she lunges forward, black magic frenzied as it bites and claws and battles to repel her, only to fail against the urgency of her need to shield him from the downfall. she projects a panel of radiant energy, her other arm around his back and cradling the back of his head, and the second the heat rises and rushes to the stove, the ignition meets the shield and the entire wall blows outwards onto the streets. the top two floors collapse, and she twists, takes the brunt of the impact and turns until they're both beneath the kitchen table. then, she summons the energy back to her again. two powerful spheres, expanding and cradling sansa and advik.

she's done it. she's saved them. they'll rebuild the diner, the apartment, but they can't be so easily salvaged, and they won't need to be, because she did it! she DID it!!

and then she sees him. she fucking sees stanley. just as the chaos sweeps across the diner, swallowing the walls, spitting rubble and destruction across every single inch of it, stanley arrives, desperate to get them out. she sees his mouth open, but her gaze is fixed on the steel blue sweater he's wearing, one sleeve an inch longer than the other, the neck of it so wide he has to use safety clips, and she strains to climb out and save him, but it happens fast, so fucking fast--

the entire world goes black. and the last thing she hears before she wipes out is stanley, calling her name...

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

an hour passes before the others gather enough to pull sansa and advik free. beyond them, aisling is uncovered already. tim is gone, a fat file tossed on her chest so hard that bruises blossom by morning. she's not awake when they uncover stanley's body. she's not awake when they all climb mutely into six black jeeps. but when they've been travelling for an hour, and wyll turns his head to ask sanji a question, he catches a glimpse of the tears falling and cutting clean paths through the soot on her face. and when they stop at the safehouse, edgar goes to help them bring her inside. and only then does she open her eyes. and only then does edgar tilt his chin down. a solemn nod. a grim confirmation of the devastation wrought by chekhov's fucking gun. the company's file.

the diner's gone. stanley's dead. and they have tim.

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

it's 4AM when she snaps out of the numb haze. she's lying on her side on a bed that couldn't possibly be so soft. next to her, advik is curled up against her limp embrace. she looks up, and in the dim light of a lavender candle, she sees jayce. viktor's asleep on the same loveseat, curled up and crowded, head nestled in jayce's lap as he absently runs his fingers through his hair.

" brea's staying with richard. just down the hall. " he nods, like he's remembered a script of some kind. she looks at him. studies him. his talents. the talents of the man nestled in his lap. her thoughts continue as he speaks again, almost like recalling a distant memory. " we've never seen anything... so raw before. it... that was uncontrolled. he was. vik took photos, samples... "

" how... " her voice sounds like she's never known water in her life. she shakes her head, but jayce drops his chin.

" nothing left. not even the cellar. and no power in the whole borough. but... sansa saw something. aisling... tim went with them willingly. " her eyes close. " and if they took him after seeing that, then... it's only just begun. "

[monstrousmenagerie]

SPECIMEN #21

The Cloverfield Monster from Cloverfield

[mrkvhs]

Google IRL stimboard please! 💙 possibly featuring at least one hammer sdgj

couldn't find any hammers that weren't destruction-based, feel free to re-request if you're not pleased!

googleplier stimboard with hammers for anon. <3

[selfshippingquotes]

S/I, walking inside of a building after making F/O wait outside: Alright everyone, here comes the most special being to ever exist in the whole entire universe! And if you don't cheer and clap for them, I'll blow up this entire building.

[jelixpo]

Tread Carefully

A wholesomen’t bowuigi fic inspired by this

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Luigi didn’t dare to turn around to the voice that spoke. His head was spinning too fast for him to comprehend anything around him, much less know and decide on how to react. His hands gripped against the edge of the Clown Car, the only thing able to keep him standing in that moment as he felt like his knees could buckle under him at any second. His lungs burned, but whether it was caused by the ash in the air or his own breath getting caught in his throat, he couldn’t tell. It didn’t much matter anyway. His shoulders bounced as he quickly, silently, pushed a breath past his lips.

“I just can’t bring myself to look away.”

That was something Luigi could agree with. His hands trembled from the force of his own grip and the fear pervading him. He stared, eyes wide and trembling, as he watched the fire slowly creep from the edge of one house and hop to the other, leaving behind flames to burn the house it had started with while it began its horrible descent onto its new victim. People were running through the streets frantically, ducking in and out of buildings as they tried to find their loved ones amongst the carnage and retreat with those they had. 

There was screaming, there had to be, Luigi knew that. But from the height that they had above the village, the sounds were soft on their ears. A chuckle came from behind him.

“Look at that one,” The King laughed as he pointed down, just at the edge of Luigi’s vision, “Can’t decide between his bread or his wife. Poor fool,” He sighed and leaned slightly over the edge of the Clown Car, “Calm yourself,” he spoke softly down to the frantic man that couldn’t hear him, “It’ll all be over soon,” he said, comforting.

Luigi saw the toad he was talking about. An apron was tied around his waist and his chef hat was crooked on his head, leaning down and slightly obscuring his vision. He whipped his head to the side and off it came, landing in a small, smouldering pile of ash where it would no doubt burn to a crisp. The man had 2 bags of what Luigi could only assume to be some type of flour or wheat. One he had easily slung over his shoulder and was hanging onto it effortlessly. The other he frantically was fumbling with in his other arm. At his feet was an unconscious woman; the wife Bowser had spoken about. He tried to tuck the second bag of flour under his arm and grab his wife’s wrist to pull her along with him, but the bag slipped out from under and toppled to the ground. He tried to lift up his wife with his free hand and pull her over his shoulder, but she proved too heavy for him. He dropped both bags to the ground and hastily tried to hold his wife’s frame against his and support her, but again he frantically looked down at the bags of flour on the ground. He couldn’t take both, but he desperately tried to figure out a way to do so. The fire around him was not waiting, and if he continued his track of indecisiveness, he would get both him and his wife killed. There were no good options. He either had to lose the person he loved the most and live the rest of his life knowing he made that decision, or lose all their livelihood and risk starving to death together anyway.

All Luigi could do was stare. If he could have helped he would have - in a heartbeat, he would have - but his life was on the line just as much as theirs were. He shuddered. Bowser noticed.

“Are you cold, my love?” The King asked, his hulking form moving closer to Luigi’s as he asked, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about how the air up here might have a chill to it. I thought the show below would be enough to warm us.” 

Luigi felt Bowser’s chest press against his back and continue to push forward until Luigi was pinned against the wall of the Clown Car, trapped. Luigi’s mouth opened and he let out a shaky, fearful breath. It hung open still as Luigi had to force his breathing through him.

“Oh, but it is quite a show, isn’t it?” Bowser asked, low, leaning down next to Luigi’s ear. Luigi couldn’t have answered if he wanted to. His throat was bone dry from fear, and he was sure he could feel it close around itself. He felt sick. Bowser clicked his tongue and shook his head gently, “Awful it was, the way they treated you,” he growled, “Treating you like you’re only ever second best. How dare they,” he spat before he chuckled, “That’s why I started here, y’know? If we’re going to build a new kingdom together, some of the old has got to go. It just makes sense that it’d be them that go first, right?” He asked, rhetorical.

Luigi wanted to scream, to cry out as loud of an apology he could. If he had known that his light venting, his passing pleasantries towards the King would have led to this he wouldn’t have uttered a single word.

He didn’t want to think it was true at first. When he had initially grown close to the King and had begun to see his soft side he brushed aside every warning. He firmly had believed in his heart that people could change. He had believed that Bowser could change. He saw good in him and thought he would be able to draw it out if he tried hard enough. He spent months arranging visits, initiating peace talks, and exchanging friendly words with the King. He had felt friendship, and when he shared his deeper thoughts with the King and the King shared his own in return with him he felt deeper emotions. They had a connection, they could have been great together.

When he had first told Bowser of the Mushroom Kingdom people’s slights against him, it was passing and harmless. Complaining of being called ‘Green Mario’ on a frequent basis. The King had laughed it off, as had Luigi. Friendly, passing, as you do with someone you don’t know very well. One would assume that after that the conversations against the Mushroom Kingdom people spiralled, but they hadn’t. Nothing had spiralled out of control, nothing had been said that would indicate Luigi hated any of these strangers. All his comments, all his complaints had been passive. ‘I wish they would remember my name,’ ‘It kind of hurts my feelings,’ ‘It’s annoying that people give Mario discounts but not me.’ None of the comments made sense to send Bowser deep into a frenzy, talking of revenge… All except for one.

Luigi had mentioned off-handedly that he wished the people noticed him as a person and not just a sidekick. He meant it as passive venting, and it was in a way. He never expected it to make him emotional, but few people rarely ever plan to get emotional when talking of small frustrations. In the moment, Bowser had replied that he saw Luigi as his own person and that he liked the person he saw. That comment had struck Luigi, as he had never felt so listened to and heard in that moment. He had looked up at the King, and the tears in his eyes moved the Koopa. Their first real embrace had followed that moment, with the King gently assuring Luigi again that he saw him, and he cared about him. Bowser had mumbled something under his breath about wanting the people to see Luigi the way Bowser saw him. It had been sweet. It was supposed to be sweet.

Bowser’s arms wrapped around Luigi’s stiff frame and he came down to sigh sweetly beside Luigi’s ear.

“Just think of it,” Bowser said dreamily, “A whole new world, just for the two of us,” Luigi could feel Bowser’s smile grow, their cheeks gently brushing together, “Do you like it?” He asked, “I did this for you.”

Finally, Luigi choked out a sob, his frame beginning to tremble as tears welled into his eyes, his initial shock subsiding as his real emotions took over. He was afraid. He was so afraid. As quickly as it had come out, his next sob got caught in his throat, his mouth closing as he attempted to keep his emotions in. Bowser squeezed tighter.

“I know, I know,” He cooed gently, “It’s a lot to take in, just thinking of it,” Bowser trailed off, “Just think of it,” He repeated quieter, under his breath. 

Luigi felt Bowser push a shaky breath out, the grin on his face widening. Luigi yelped as Bowser spun him around, his back now pressed against the wall of the Clown Car as Bowser gripped at his biceps, a look of manic joy on his face.

“Just think of it!” Bowser whispered happily, his own high emotions catching in his throat and softening his voice, “Isn’t this so great?” He giggled, completely unaware of how deeply upsetting his actions were, “Soon, we won’t have to worry about anyone bothering us ever again! It’ll just be you and me,” He cooed as he brought a hand up to Luigi’s cheek and gently caressed it, his other hand still maintaining a death grip on Luigi’s arm, “You and me,” He repeated lovingly. Suddenly, it seemed that an idea struck Bowser, his expression lighting up again. He tilted his head back and stared up at the blackened sky filled with ash and soot, “The possibilities are endless,” He beamed. He brought his horrifying, joyful gaze back down to Luigi, “Where do you want our home to be?” He asked, “Sure, a castle on the ground is as good as any, but imagine a sprawling mansion in space. Or on a different planet!” He said excitedly, “Whatever you want, my love, is yours,” He said sweetly, “So long as you’re mine.”

A large piece of ash flew by Bowser’s head at that moment and Luigi watched it go, a horrifying symbol of what his future with Bowser and Bowser alone would hold. Fire. Destruction. Death. If Bowser hadn’t had such a tight grip on him Luigi would’ve jumped out of the Car at that moment. Even death was better than this. Bowser closed his eyes and sighed in bliss before shaking his head as he opened them again.

“Ah, but enough of that,” He said. He gripped at Luigi with both hands again and spun him back around, pinning Luigi’s chest against the edge of the Clown Car as Bowser brought his own hands down to hold at the edge of the Car on either side of Luigi’s frame, “I wouldn’t want to miss this.”

Luigi didn’t want to look back down at the horrors below but he could barely move away as it was and he didn’t dare try to struggle against Bowser’s frame for fear of what he would do to him, what he was capable of doing. Luigi looked down amongst the fire and ash. Off to the side, he noticed a toad standing stock still, holding her baby against her chest as groups of citizens fled around her. She was looking up at him. She could see him. She looked… Confused. Horrified and confused. In her eyes, Luigi wasn’t a victim. She wasn’t close enough to see the horror on his face or the tears streaming down his cheeks. All she saw was the hero’s brother standing tall alongside the enemy, watching over the devastation. From what she saw, Luigi was just as much at fault for the fire as Bowser was. And in a way, she was right. If Luigi had managed to keep his talks with Bowser strictly professional, if he could’ve just had half a brain to tread carefully alongside their long-time enemy, none of this would’ve happened. Bowser did this for him, and Luigi did nothing but stand aside and let it happen.

Luigi cried silently. He cried for himself, for his lost friendship, for the people, for the mother and her child, and for the baker and his wife.

[inkwellfire]

[Image Description: A 9 panel comic page featuring a black girl in a grey dress named Flower and a dark skinned teen with a scar across his face named Kelley. The background is a city ruins with in mono-color shades of (mostly) blue.

Panel 1: Kelley clutches his a hand against his chest and raises another to his head, expression panicked. His textbubbles read “no no no, I need to get back to my friends. I need to go home.”

Panel 2: Flower looks at him with a relatively neutral thoughtful look. A handwritten text bubble reads “hmm”

Panel 3: Flower turns, now in profile, and says “Ok, I’ll help.” Her expression remains neutral, her eyes are closed, confident.

Panel 4: Kelley follows after her, concerned. He gestures with both hands, pleadingly. He says “Wh- You’re like 7?” Flower, continuing to walk forward, angles her body to show Kelley her hands, all 10 fingers raised. She smiles proudly as she exclaims “10!”

Panel 5: “That’s only marginally better.” Kelley’s text bubble overlaps with the previous panel. He places a hand against his chest and raises the other out straight, a bemused type of concern on his face, “Why are you even in the Danger Zone?!” Flower’s arms are crossed, brows knitted in frustration, looking back towards Kelley. She exclaims “I live here!”

Panel 6: Kelley leans slightly over Flower, expression softening. Flower looks back towards him, explaining, “We’re going to my house. We’ll be safe there.”

Panel 7: Kelley and Flower walk along the street. Kelley’s hand is raised, pointing to the sky as Flower looks backwards at him. Kelley asks “You live here? Is malice a real thing?” Flower responds “Yep, don’t touch it.” He asks “What about the Invisible Horror?” She says “Hah, of course not.”

Panel 8: The background is a slightly richer purpler blue, indicating a change in time, as the pair turn a street corner with a car crashed into a post in the background. Kelley looks around curiously as he speaks, “Actually, being in the Danger Zone makes sense. Explains why Devin’s magic went haywire.”

Panel 9: The background becomes a light gold color, indicating afternoon or sunset, on the steps towards a building. Kelley’s hands are raised in the air as he takes his final step up onto the main landing. He says “Then they lit up like a beacon! I’ve never seen them do that before!” Flower walks forward, looking exasperatedly deadpan. “We’re here.” End ID]

The Full Comic of After the Fall (& commission information) can be found at InkwellArtist.com!

Additionally, I have an askblog/archive blog for AtF @abouthefall So feel free to hop over there and send asks or inquires!

Remember to reblog!

& If you want, donate to my Ko-Fi: Ko-fi.com/InkwellArtist. Thank you!

[system-stims]

Z!Peter & Z!Saiya

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