#Destinytober23

[destinytober]

2023 prompt list is here! Take a trip through Destiny history starting Oct. 1 with a daily piece of art, writing or other creative expressions. Use #destinytober or #destinytober23 to have your work shared here.

Don't have time or ability to do a full 30 Day challenge? Use this list a chose one prompt for each five-day period instead.

✅ All skill levels welcome! ✅ Digital, traditional, 3D & crafts ✅ Writing ✅ Screenshot photography

Please don't: 🚫 A/I genned art 🚫 Gameplay S/treams 🚫 Fashion (Use #Driptober)

Previous years lists. Feel free to use one of these instead or mix and match between them all!

[aghostsdestiny]

Destinytober Day 25: "Lucent Hive"

✨️🍜✨️

[newbabyfly]

04: Sword Logic

If you can't beat them, steal their shit and cut them down. #destiny2art

[torobatl]

Destinytober Day 1: First Revival

Very slapdash since I'm a day late, but! I gotta commit to an art challenge this month.

[lazulcatt]

Sad Zavala with amanda and cayde watching from their graves. Missed the first couple of days but I'm gonna try to do the rest.

Destinytober day 9, devotion bravery sacrifice

[theaceslittleartcorner]

Day 5: Dreadnaught

Fun Fact: I loaded up Destiny 1 to find references and screenshots to draw this.

[teenybeebart]

A Guardian rises, a million questions to ask. His Ghost is filled with anxiety and love, eager to answer once they are safe.

I'm doing the "lazy" version of #Destinytober this year. Day 1-5, I combined "First Revival" and "No Time to Explain"! Full prompt list can be found HERE!

[i-am-a-social-experiment]

Destinytober has begun! So above is my first piece, a short posted on AO3.

Here are the prompts, created by @newbabyfly

I’m writing because I am not going to force anyone to suffer looking at my drawings. 😂😂

[abidethetempest]

First destinytober oneshot done! First time i've participated in this event, v excited to see how much I can get done :D

[mochimelt]

Destiny-tober, #8; Light Lost

This one was much longer than I expected, but I had a lot of thoughts. I wasn't around for the Red War, but my bf was, and Cricket-14 is his Hunter.

Pain. Unbearable pain.

His hand grabbed at his shirt, his chest, trying to tear out the needles of pain in his lungs. His throat burned, his mind spun.

“Cricket!” A feminine voice called out for him.

His lungs heaved. His stomach lurched and he held his chest tightly.

“Cricket, come on!”

He pulled his hands away from his body and onto the wood before him, fingers holding to the smooth table, brushing against rough paper.

”Oh, boy.“ His voice was hoarse, voice cracking with the burn in his throat. ”Another?“

His fingers held tightly to the tiny glass, raising it from the napkin it sat on, his hand shivering just the tiniest bit. The Hunter beside him sighed, letting her head fall onto the bar, her pale hair spilling over her shoulders. She held back her laughter and reached for her own glass, holding it out for the bartender, trying not to spill the drink as he poured them one more shot.

”I'm cutting you two off now. It's late.“

”Whatever you say, old man.“ Viola broke into a giggling fit, raising the glass to her lips and throwing her head back, the alcohol sliding down her throat. Cricket was quick to do the same, the liquid burning his synthetic insides, making him shake his head and wash the taste away with water.

”Oh man. Last mission was awful. How many times did I die..?“ Cricket slurred through his words, glancing at Viola. His vision spun and his mind worked to center it.

”At least fifteen.“ Viola laughed. Her own head was swaying, hands holding tightly to the bar, legs kicking under her seat. ”I missed this. Going out, having drinks. Not freezing our balls off in the middle of fucking nowhere trying to stop some Cabal encampment.“

”Yeah, same.“ Cricket took a deep breath. ”It's the anniversary of the War on Six Fronts, y'know.”

“It is?”

“Yep. Everyone's out partying. You didn't notice the banners and shit?“

Viola giggled. ”I didn't know what they were for! I dunno, I just thought it was like, Ikora's birthday or something.“

Cricket shoved her shoulder, holding onto her arm as she nearly fell out of her seat. Her laughter was contagious, bubbling up his throat, his own balance swaying. The next moment, they were both on the ground, laughing and rolling onto their backs.

His audials picked up a high pitched sound, ringing through his head, and he slapped the back of his hand against Viola.

”Quit that, you're making my audials hurt.“ ”Quit what?“

She sat up beside him, his vision focusing just enough to notice she wasn't making that sound. He closed his eyes and focused, as best he could through the fog in his mind, trying to pinpoint the sound. It was loud and high pitched, coming from somewhere outside the small bar. It sounded like a voice. A young one.

Screaming.

His eyes shot open and his body shot up.

”Fuck!“

Viola fell back at his sudden movements, groaning and rubbing her ass. ”What the hell Cricket?“

”Something's wrong.“

His legs shook and he pushed himself up, stumbling across the bar toward the door, one hand holding onto the door frame for support. Through the glass he could see the City's streets, the sky a burning red, smoke flowing through the alleys. People ran in all directions, rushing away from.. something. Viola was quick to join him, despite not being in any better a state.

“What the hell's going on out there?”

His hand pushed the door open and he took a shaky step out into the street. His vision swayed and his stomach cramped. He wanted to throw up. Ships lined the sky, none of Vanguard origin, all with the same symbol painted on the sides. Like half of a square, in bright red paint. Their guns pointed down into the City they stood in, firing occasionally, the sound of an explosion racketing through his audials.

“Cabal invasion.”

“What??“ Viola cried out, running out toward the street, her legs crumpling under her own weight. Her mind struggled to catch up and he took a slow step toward her. Neither of them were in fighting condition. A loud whizzing noise drowned out all other sounds. A burst of fire lit up the sky just before him. Burning pain shot through his body.

Then, silence.

His eyes opened to his Death Plane. Dark and cold, the way he liked it. Various trinkets and objects littered the place. A cape hung on a coat hanger. A beige dog ran across the plane, chased by a smaller black dog. His first Sparrow sat parked to his left. His drunken mind sharpened, settling back into its usual sober state, reset by the sudden death. What happened? He had been hit by something. Something fiery, powerful. Enough to kill him instantly, even in his armor. He didn't get much time to think before the plane around him shattered and he was brought back to the land of the living.

His Ghost, Song, floated beside him as his senses turned on. Screaming filled his audials. The air was hot and full of smoke, rubble coating his body, soot on his tongue. He coughed and held tightly to the hand in his, the person pulling him onto his feet. ”Cricket! Holy shit--” Viola's voice rung out. Her head darted frantically around, face now hidden by her dark green helmet, hood over her helm. Her handgun sat tightly in her grasp.

“The Cabal are attacking the City! We have to get as many people out of here as we can!” She yelled out. Cricket forced a nod as his helmet transmatted onto place over his head, one hand pulling the hood of his cape over his helm, the other grabbing onto his gun as it transmatted from storage.

He took two steps forward before collapsing.

A deep, burning pain shot through his systems. Viola fell in front of him, a scream tearing through her throat before she bit her tongue. He held back a groan.

The Light within him began to fade. Like a fire being put out by water, the wisps fading into the night, only embers left behind.

“Guardian!” Song's voice sounded beside him, barely audible through the ringing in his head. “Cricket- I- something doesn't feel right-”

Her voice cut off and he watched her shell collapse onto the ground in front of him. His hands moved instinctively, grabbing her shell and holding her to his chest, moving through the shocks of pain in his muscles. His body was weak. Drained of all his Light. He couldn't muster any of it. Not a blade, not a gun, not even a spark.

“Cricket, come on! We have to get the fuck out of here!”

Viola grabbed onto his shoulder and hauled him up. He wrapped his arm around hers and ran. Time seemed to blur as his muscles ached. Cabal tried to stop them, falling quickly to a couple shots, though he didn't remember pulling the trigger. They were no better than civilians now. Armed civilians, but mortal in the same way. Helplessness washed over him. Powerless, everything out of his control, the streets of the city burning away as he and his partner rushed into the surrounding woods. Civilians followed them, their cries landing on his deaf audials.

Cricket pulled Viola to a stop as they hit the start of the forest. She turned to face him, holding his hand in a death grip, and he turned to face the City he lived in. Fire covered the sky. Smoke blotted out the stars. Ships flew back and forth, rockets mounted on their sides. The Tower lay in ruin, burning away.

Song's shell rested heavy in his hold.

[everythingididididforher]

I realized maybe I should post my DestinyTober stuff here

Whoops

I've done 2 so far! Today's and yesterday's and I'm almost 2k words deep into tomorrow's (inspiration hit)

Here's the series! :3

[the11tailed]

Destinytober Day 9: Devotion, Bravery, Sacrifice

Kryrlik panted hard, Dawnblade still glowing in his hand as the Saint’s body finally collapsed to the ground. The hidden Eliksni emerged, peering down at the lifeless form of the Saint. His ghost appeared to revive him but Kryrlik was faster, grabbing the ghost and dragging her away from her guardian. His goddess, Zelkie, would figure out what the right punishment for this monster would be. He had slaughtered enough Eliksni in Zelkie’s throne world.

[aghostsdestiny]

Destinytober Day 8: "Light Lost"

Sometimes a Hunter is just not fast enough—

With thanks to @silverstarstrike for helping me test Glaze it 🥹🌻

[newbabyfly]

06: Regicide

Don't mind me, just channeling some Evangelion here. IYKYK.

[pmpmyread]

Last Call

A/N: Ao3 x-post, Destinytober 2023 prompt fic. Characters: Zavala, Crow, Sloane, The Drifter, Saladin Forge Summary: A light drizzle fell upon the Last City, on a very late, cold, and dreary night; the mood inside Rehnpeir’s Drunken Noodle bar was anything but. Takes place during Season of the Witch. WC: 806

A light drizzle fell upon the Last City, on a very late, cold, and dreary night; the mood inside Rehnpeir’s Drunken Noodle bar was anything but.

The establishment’s eponym stood behind the bar, pausing to take in his surroundings for the first time that night. His bar had been exceptionally crowded, almost at capacity in fact, leaving him with no time to take a breather as he single-handedly covered the evening’s shift. It was quite notable, and something he had not seen since a time preceding the Red War. Even then, such occasions usually stemmed from dire circumstances, with the bar often serving as a post-crisis congregation point, or a shelter of last resort, among other unfortunate wartime uses.

Such had been the case, many months ago, on and following that fateful day when the Witness’ fleet darkened the Last City’s skies, as he and Calus invaded Sol, capturing the Traveler on their way in. Tending a bar that was this centrally located within the last bastion of humanity afforded him some insight, a certain pulse on the community and on the sentiment dominating it, at any given time. Rehnpeir vividly recalled the somber atmosphere, that came from that day and that stuck through during subsequent weeks, as though it had just happened yesterday.  

In contrast, tonight’s ambiance, even as the threat of Xivu Arath loomed over them, was one of levity, a far cry from the mood that had loomed over the town all those months ago. At this moment, it was not a desperate, reluctant patronage but an amalgamation of elder and young, Eliksni and Cabal, Guardian and non-Guardians alike, that gathered here not by tragedy, but just to enjoy each other’s company. As tired as he was, what a privilege it had been to serve them.

Rehnpeir turned his attention to the left-hand side of the seating area, where Commander Zavala and Deputy Commander Sloane shared a booth with a couple of regulars he recognized. He himself was surprised when the Vanguard leaders turned up earlier that evening. After all, it was not every day that the Vanguard leadership came down to patronize the bar, at least not these days.

Both leaders had managed to engage in a little over an hour of deep conversation prior to the dinner time rush, after which some patrons started rushing to their table to welcome the Deputy Commander home. To them, her much-welcomed return was accompanied by a palpable glimmer of hope. On more than one occasion, Rehnpeir had even caught a rare hint of contentment on Zavala’s expression as he looked on citizens of the last bastion on earth finally engaging with members of Vanguard leadership. As the leader, Zavala likely had the herculean task of rebuilding the trust between Vanguard leadership and the Last City inhabitants, one Rehnpeir did not envy. Tonight could conceivably mark a first step in that coveted direction.

A sudden clamoring emanated from a nearby table, occupied by no other than the one they called the Drifter and by Lord Saladin.

Rehnpeir had wondered whether Saladin had lost a bet of some sort, for him to let himself be dragged into a bar, by the Drifter no less. What had started as a calm game of cards between the unlikely pair had quickly devolved into a nonsensical turn-based brouhaha, pitting mixed factions against each other, as each argued and defended varying obscure self-serving rulesets. It had all been playful banter, of course, though Rehnpeir did wonder if Saladin wasn’t taking it a bit too seriously at this moment, as he launched into an uncharacteristic tirade, defending a move he had just made as a trial lawyer from those old Golden Age legal dramas would defend their case.

“Too late to order a final drink? I realize we’re entering last call territory.”

Rehnpeir turned to glance at the source of the voice, his eyes landing on none other than the Crow. He’d been so engrossed by the scene that he’d failed to notice the Hunter who had approached the bar.

Crow’s mere presence also held a great deal of weight; it was a direct representation of rebirth, of a mix of the old and the new ways and of the many dualities that had become the reality of the habitants of the Last City.

The barman glanced at the clock that adorned the wall just above the front door. Had it really been that late? He caught sight of the intensifying rain through the exit’s window.

His eyes returned to meet Crow’s, whose head was tilted ever so slightly, awaiting his response. “Oh, what the hell," the bartender smiled, picking up a clean cup as he finally replied, "What can I get you, my friend?”

Tonight, he’d opt to extend the last call, an exceptional measure for an equally exceptional night.

[vexation960]

D2まとめその2(Destinytober2023)