#collapsed building

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1291

Whumptober #23: "Who's there?"

“I  can’t see inside - who are we missing? Did everyone get out? Who’s hurt?”

"The smokes too thick - stay close everyone. We should do a headcount."

"One, two, three, four - where's [whumpee]?"

"I- I dont know."

A second explosion occurs, and all eyes turn to the entrance of the collapsing building.

[aceofwhump]

Hudson & Rex 2x14, 3x04, 3x09

[karoviesart]

me being secretly allowed to read Rainspeak early, and then almost immediately drawing this scene (that I'm STILL thinking about btw) and then forgetting to post it once the chapter was out.... I haven't even watched this series and I'm in love with this fic. thank you beloved @quirkle2 for this incredible fic and for tricking me into loving your blorbos/lh this fic is my canon now <3

[whumpshots]

Whumptober #4

Trope of the day: “You in there?”

_

When caretaker opens their eyes, darkness surrounds them. They blink, hoping it's just the probable concussion, but it seems like they are fucked.

Biting back the grunt wanting to escape, caretaker moves their hurting body and tries to stand up, only to almost collapse back down again. Silent curses roll off their tongue as they finally find someting to support them as they stand up, no orientation whatsoever.

They remember the panicked voices through their intercomms, whumpee grabbing them to pull them away ... and then everything turned black.

Caretaker's heart skips a beat. Whumpee ... Where the fuck are they?

As caretaker triest to make their way forwards, they hear a soft grunt, almost too quiet to register. Their ears still ring, but caretaker is sure they heard it. Limping forward, caretaker collapses before a pile of rubble, their hands trying to identify what is in front of them.

“You in there?”, they rasp, feeling the panic rise in their chest. Another grunt from below and caretaker's hands start moving automatically.

[random-fandom-whump]

Whumptober Day 12: Cave In ↳ Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)

"Come on, Peter. Come on, Spider-Man."

[friendlylocalwhumper]

“It’s getting crazy out there.”

Crooked finger pulling the ragged curtain aside to peek through, Quinn hums their agreement. Calm brown eyes survey the chaos out there, scanning across flaming heaps of trash, a store front crumbling, a half dozen backs flexing as arms loop under a car to flip it onto its side.

Across the room, Major throws his head back to dump the rest of the chips from the bag into his mouth. A few skitter across the floor, escaping the waterfall. When he drops the bag with a satisfied grunt, there is cheese dust sprinkled across his nose.

Outside, something rumbles. Quinn leans harder against the window, nose smushed to the cool glass, to try to get a better angle. There is a disturbance in the messy crowd over there, a plume of smoke that wasn’t there seconds ago. Their hand slides across the sill and catches a splinter but they only frown harder, ignoring the sudden sting, squinting at whatever situation is developing just around the corner.

Major smacks his mouth open, and they don’t comment about how noisy he is when he’s eating. “What’s the point of even watching? People’re freaking out, someone’ll get trampled, guns go off soon.” The healer shrugs nonchalantly, but Quinn holds their ground, certain that he’s staying away from the window because he might want to help someone if he sees how they’re getting hurt out there.

They open their mouth to argue that there is always a reason to watch, to know what’s happening. Even if someone could run up to this window on fire and Quinn wouldn’t throw it open to dump a glass of water on them. It’s safer to stay put, out of sight, and offer nothing to help.

Whatever is around that corner, Quinn can’t catch a glimpse of it from here. They opt instead for squinting at the shop windows down the street, looking for reflections that could give anything away about where the crowd is running to now. Everyone seems to be moving in the same direction and if they didn’t know any better, they’d think there was some kind of tsunami ready to crash down and everyone out there can see it.

That roaring comes again. Screams. Major shifts to stand. Quinn opens their mouth again, maybe just to admit they can’t tell what’s happening.

A car comes careening around the corner with a scream of tires melting on asphalt, going sideways when they shouldn’t. In a moment of stupidity Quinn wonders what the car is in such a hurry to get away from, and doesn’t consider that the car is what people are scrambling across the ground to escape. There is no one in the driver’s seat, and that confuses Quinn for a second too long. The vehicle swerves, bounces over the curb, its frame hollow where there should be a windshield glinting. Quinn’s eyes widen, they take half a step back, their hands come up from the windowsill.

Major has enough time to grunt, “What the-” Before the room explodes in a wave of glass and splintered wood, and then goes dark.

Time doesn’t melt away. He wasn’t knocked out. Major blinks, aware of pressure against his cheek that wasn’t there a second ago. And across his chest, and jabbing into his right leg, although he can’t feel the left one.

He thinks there was one chip left in that bag, stuck at the bottom. His right arm reaches, fingers wedging under a rough bit of wood to start his search. The house crashed down or something, he understands, but he was trying to get that chip out.

A low, uncertain whine starts up somewhere, building up into a cry. Major clenches his jaw and drags his left hand closer to rub dust from his eyes as he focuses on shoving his right arm farther out. The bag was right there.

“Shut up,” He bites out. He can’t see anything, it’s just dark, but he knows Quinn heard him because their cry catches and goes quieter. “Shut up I’m focusing.”

A pathetic whimper. A shifting and then a deep thud, followed by a more raspy cry of pain. “I’m over here,” Quinn whispers from somewhere sort of far.

“...Okay?” His fingers are stuck under the wood, and Major growls in frustration, shoving upward until he gets some wiggle room again. “I’m not focusing on getting to you, bitch.”

A second of silence, and then a cracking little cry. Which is so annoying. “Wha-at? Why?”

Frustrated, Major kicks out with his right leg. Or thinks he does. Nothing really budges. “I’m fucking close. Shut up. Shut up.” There’s a pile of dust that he shoves his fingers into and it’s so soft, it’s gross. The healer coughs and splutters, groaning in annoyance at the dust that he knocked against as it tries to get down his throat. There, is that a flake of plastic he just felt? He strains farther, back arching off the floor, shoulder angling farther.

“Ha! Got it!” He cheers, yanking hard. He can’t make out the color of what he pulled back through the gap, but it definitely feels like part of the bag. It’s not the whole bag but it means he’s close enough to reach. “There’s one more chip in there. It’s gonna be so fucking good.”

A beat of silence. “Are you, Major, are you… trying to find your chips?”

He reaches again. Under the wood, in the pile of dust. There, something slick and thin.

“Major, are you looking for the bag of chips?”

They won’t let it go. Major growls. “Yeah. Trying.”

“Can you stop?”

He loses his grip. Loses it entirely, the dust is too smooth and it’s sticking to his fingers. Major growls louder, kicking out again. Or trying to. He really thinks his leg isn’t doing what he’s telling it to. “I - fuck, I fucking can now, you made me lose it.”

Above him, weight shifts. The wood at his cheek presses down harder and Major turns his head to the side, huffing out harsh breaths that stir up the dust worse. “The fuck?” He croaks, mad at first but then scrambling to get his arm back from its chip expedition to press up on whatever’s making his cheekbone creak right now. “Fuck, FUCK!”

Quinn’s somewhere hurt and he should go help them, he knows. He thinks. He just really wanted that chip, which has got to be, like, less than a foot away from him. And now something’s randomly trying to crush his skull and maybe if he slips his arm back through to get through that dust, he can grab the bag again…

“Don’t move,” Comes their voice from above him. Quinn was far away a second ago. Major grimaces, twisting as best he can to claw at the wood that wants his face flat.

“Stop moving,” Quinn says again, closer still. Something warm and slick moves at his temple and Major jerks, his right leg growing uncomfortably warm with his third attempt to kick it. Those are fingers, he thinks, wet at his face and digging in under the wood. Major makes animalistic sounds, pressing his other cheek hard against the ground to try to escape the building pressure.

And then it lifts, a little. Something trembles violently against his side. “I’ve got it,” Quinn croaks. They’re what’s shaking. They’re lifting the shattered windowsill and trying to nudge their knee against his head to make it move out of the way.

“I was just gonna get the chip,” Major informs as he tries to move, finally jerking an inch to the side just in time for their weak ass to drop the wood and nearly kill him. He makes a pissed off sound low in his throat at that. “And then fuckin’ find you. Weren’t you, aren’t you hurt?”

Bony arms fold up on his ribs as Quinn folds themself down to pant. “Not as bad as you are.”

Startled, Major barks out a laugh. “Me? Come on. I’m just - I was still hungry.”

“Seriously…” They shove against his neck for some reason, and Major grunts, annoyed. “Stop it with the chips. Oh, your heart’s racing. Can you feel everything?”

He’s just chilling. They’re so paranoid. Major shrugs, he thinks. “Dunno. Feel my arms. Not so much with the legs. ‘s dark in here. Think I’m just stuck.”

“Mmh.” Slippery fingers trace over his face now, and Major’s eyes screw shut, his nose scrunching against the unwelcome sensation. “You are stuck. You think it’s dark?”

“Uh.” The healer blinks and yanks his head to the side to try to escape their wandering fingers. Or he tries to, but they seem to be holding his head still. “Yeah. Shit all caved in on us, right?”

“Yes. But the car’s all mixed in with it and the headlights are shining on your face.”

“...Oh.” This time, he doesn’t try to pull away as their fingers feel around his eyes, then slip under his head. He sees no deepening of the darkness when they cover his eyes, it just stays the same.

“It’s okay,” Quinn says softly, palm cupping his cheek. They’re getting blood on his face, it itches. He scrunches up his nose.

“What?”

“It’s okay,” They repeat, swiping a thumb over each cheek. “It’ll be okay, we’ve survived worse.”

“...Okay?” His voice sounds rough. Maybe debris got down his throat in the second where he was thrown back and stuff fell on him. “I fucking know?”

They rub on his eyes, now, swiping blood across them. Major recoils against the floor and hisses, “Cut that shit out, fucking gross.”

They pause, then just go back to holding his cheeks. “I was just wiping the tears away.”

“The - I’m not fucking crying.” His voice sounds rougher now, his throat locking up around the words. Major grunts to clear it up.

“You are crying,” They argue. “Does it hurt?”

“Fucking - no!” He doesn’t even know what the fuck is going on. “Just start moving shit so I can get up. Not goddamn crying.”

“I can’t move things. I don’t know what’s safe to move, and I… well, I’m not very strong. And I’m worried about you. Can you heal yourself a little, first?”

He groans, kicking out again. Or he tries to. Again, everything feels too still. “Don’t fucking know. Don’t know shit that’s going on. Can’t see shit. It all just happened ten goddamn seconds ago, can I get a fucking minute?”

Silence. More thumb swipes, growing wetter still. Now that he’s been told that it’s him crying, he can’t ignore the hitching of his chest or the small sounds coming from his throat. Their fingers even slide through his hair, and Major squeezes his eyes shut tight against the thought of what he must look like right now, if he looks like he needs his stupid hair touched.

“I waited as long as I could,” Quinn answers finally. “For you to get to me. I thought you were okay. You sounded okay.”

“I am okay,” He snaps.

“...I didn’t want to move. In case, you know. You’re not supposed to move after something like this. But you didn’t come.”

“In two motherfucking seconds I didn’t get to you? Poor baby. You’re fucking weird.”

Despite the argument, they keep on scraping across his scalp, working through dry hair over and over until it’s a little softer. “I got thirsty. I think it was a few hours. Finally got over here. It really doesn’t hurt?”

The weight across his chest feels like it’s getting heavier. Major grunts against it, and when he draws a shaking breath in, the weight deepens further. “I dunno. Hours? I don’t know. Am I fucked up?” A bigger, shakier breath, and now something very soft presses to his cheek, hair falling across his brow. Quinn leaned down to hug him, or at least press their faces together, he thinks.

“A little bit,” They confirm carefully. “Little bit fucked up. I’m going to move your hand to your side, you try to get your magic going.”

That’s easy enough. He can try. Major waits, and Quinn waits, and the silence is thick.

“Did you try?” They ask gently.

“I - did I fucking - you didn’t move it yet.”

A pause, and a pat on his chest. Incredulous, Major waits. “Okay,” Quinn says, still sounding patient even though they’re the one that just lost the plot. “I moved it. Try now.”

They didn’t fucking move it but Major just sighs and lets his magic out. He doesn’t see the glow but it should be working, so he just grunts, brows raised, waiting for some kind of celebration.

“...That’s okay.” Their hands are back on his face, now. “That’s okay. Give me a few minutes to catch my breath and I’ll… start digging us out.”

Bewildered by them just giving up on the healing thing, Major tries to shrug. “Okay. Whatever.”

[seafoam-icecream]

"Bad news: I couldn't find a water pipe. But the good news is that it doesn't matter. We'll suffocate first before suffering dehydration."

"Quiet."

"Good idea. I should stop talking - got to preserve as much oxygen as possible."

"I think I hear someone else. There!"

"Wow, look at that, another person you managed to 'save' under this mess. Who do you think it is? I bet it's a sweet old lady who would've been fine if someone hadn't stopped me from disarming the bomb."

[adzeisval]

A whumpy idea...#2

I think I'm going to make a series of these, I've always got whumpy ideas toss out, first one is here. From now on I'll use the tag #whumpy idea series, so anyone who wants to can check in and find anything new. On to the whump!

Characters A and B are close; friends, family, lovers something like that. A and B are trapped when a building collapses. They can't see each other, both are hurt pretty bad.

As rescuers attempt to save them they come to a horrible realization: the same slab of concrete is trapping both A and B and if they are going to get either of them out alive the slab has to be moved quickly. The problem is to move the concrete to save one of them, will result in the others death.

Cue desperate rescuers trying to find another way, or try to determine which of the two trapped people is more likely to survive extraction. Bonus angst if either A or B figures out what is going on and wants to save the other.

Of course it could end in a miraculous rescue for both of them, but my gremlin mind would probably go for the kill. I would also probably have the rescuers decide to at least heavily sedate, if not mercy kill the dying one for added angst.

[whumperer-86]

My whump watching conclusions

When I watch a good whump scene from specific actor ,, I ran to youtube or other sources looking for other whump scenes from his other dramas and I find some of them are really good may be better than the original scene that I liked him in

Chinese and korean dramas are the most whump filled dramas

The best whump dramas are the ones that has good Bromance or very caring care taker but for me I find brothers or male friends are more impactful in whump scenes than female care takers

[doyouevermakeasound]

Febuwhump Prompt Day 23: “You’ll have to go through me.” CW: Collapsed building, hero X villain, blood mention, death mention, death of civilians

The cacophony of the building falling drowned out the screams of hero, sidekick, and villain.  

With some quick thinking from villain they were able to shield themselves from the brunt of the falling rubble but the hero wasn’t so lucky.  Even then, they lay there as the whining in their ears and the dust encompassed their senses.  

“I’ll die if I just wait here,”  Villain chastised to themself as they forced them on their feet.  “Let’s finish this.”  

They couldn’t find hero or sidekick at first and the thought crossed their mind that that last attack may have killed them both.  Villain thought that that would almost be a shame, they wanted to see the life leaving their eyes and being killed by the falling building would take the fun out of that.  

They heard some voices and walked towards them.  The moment they saw the good samaritans wandering to the edge of the rubble field looking for survivors villain unleashed another attack, easily cutting them down.  They didn’t need the foolish humans to interfere with what villain hoped would be their final game of cat and mouse with hero and sidekick.

They walked through the rubble pile, waiting and straining for any signs of life.

A small cough alerted villain to hero and sidekick’s location.  A smile crept on their lips as they marched towards the noise.

Hero looked glorious pinned beneath the rubble as they tried to push it off of their chest but failed.  Their usual superhuman strength was gone.  When they looked up at villain, hero closed their eyes as if they were almost accepting their fate.  

“You’re not making it out of here alive hero.”

They felt a pebble hit them in the square of their back.  Villain turned to face sidekick, clutching their bloody side and a nice bleeding gash across their forehead.

“You’ll have to go through me.”

Villain laughed.  This was going to be easy.

@febuwhump

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whumptober #14: Die A Hero Or Live Long Enough To Become A Villain

Option: “I’ll be right behind you.”

“I’ll be right behind you, alright? You just need to stay in front of me so I can see your bright jacket through the smoke!” A lied, knowing that their (hidden) injuries would just slow the pair down. Reluctantly, B turned and began heading towards the entrance as the building/cave/ship began to crumble. They make it out just as an explosion blocks the exit they’d just emerged from. 

B turns with a smile on their face for escaping the close-call... only for their expression to drop when they realise A wasn’t there with them. 

“B? B?” C called, rushing over having appeared at the scene not too long ago. 

“A.” B whimpered, eyes watering from the smoke and their own fear. C’s heart dropped. 

[aceofwhump]

Torchwood 2x12 "Fragments"

[whumpinaheartbeat]

Choose One Or Lose Both (Febuwhump 2023 Day 26)

This fic contains near death experiences, severe injuries including internal bleeding and head injuries. Please read with discretion.

Gordon locked eyes with Virgil, forcing his voice to be level despite the pain.

“You know what to do.”

“But, Gordie, I-“

“No.” Gordon said firmly. “Save Alan. Do whatever you have to, just save our baby brother, okay?”

“I can save both of you.” Virgil insisted, the tears already falling. “I’m sure there’s a way to even out the pressure, neither one of you will have to die. I can fix this.”

Even as Virgil spoke the weight on top of Gordon shifted and he gasped, his vision exploding. Distantly he could hear Alan give off a pained shout and if anything that hurt more than the hundreds of tonnes pressing down on him.

“Virg.” Gordon’s voice cracked. “Please. He’s in pain.”

Virgil’s hands hovered above Gordon, desperate to do something to help. No other rescuers were coming, at least not in time to save Gordon and Alan. It was up to Virgil to get them out of here, it was up to him to work out how to get the weight off one of them without crushing the other. 

Except there was no way to do that. 

Gordon was right; Virgil had to make a decision. Either he got Gordon out of the rubble, making the entire weight of the building crush Alan, or he rescued Alan and damned Gordon to that same devastating fate. Virgil couldn’t consider it a miracle that his brothers had managed to survive the initial collapse, not knowing that he was going to have to choose which one of them to save and which to sacrifice.

Alan was the youngest of them, the most desperate to prove himself to them despite having already earned his place at International Rescue time and again. He was brilliant in the things he excelled at, always one step ahead of the rest of them in terms of crazy plans that always somehow worked.

Gordon had been through the most out of all of them. He had been old enough to remember Mum, had been the one to always look on the bright side of her diagnosis, while still being young enough to believe that there was truely good in the world. Gordon loved so many things, the ocean, the creatures that littered said ocean, Lady Penelope especially when she let him talk about the ocean. Gordon had barely survived the Hydrofoil Crash all those years ago but he had worked so hard since then to get back all of his function and most importantly his humour and his endless smiles. 

Virgil loved his brothers dearly but one of them was going to die and he was the one who had to choose. Give Gordon the mercy of not recovering from a second traumatic injury and force Lady Penelope to grieve him? Or let Alan die, knowing that the duty of an older brother is to protect all those who came after, especially the youngest?

No. He couldn’t be the one to make that call.

The building shifted again and Gordon’s eyes squeezed shut, his breath leaving him. Distantly, over the other side of the wall, Virgil heard Alan sob.

“I’ll be right back.” Virgil promised.

Gordon forced his eyes to open, lips cracking into an attempt of a smile. A line of blood rolled down his chin.

“Gordon, you’re-“

“Go to Alan.” Gordon whispered. “I’ll be fine here.”

Virgil felt like he was being torn in two. Alan was still sobbing, no doubt in incredible pain, but Gordon was actively bleeding internally. If Gordon was not freed soon, then… No. He couldn’t think about it.

“I’ll be right back.” Virgil said again, his voice tight. “Just, hold on, okay Gordie?”

“FAB…”

Virgil stood slowly before picking his way through the rubble. He had to be careful not to knock anything, the buildings structure was already failing and one wrong move could make the whole thing collapse on not only Gordon and Alan but on Virgil too and then he wouldn’t be able to help either of them.

He kept glancing back at where Gordon lay until he couldn’t see him anymore, coming around the half collapsed wall to where Alan was. The slab of concrete that was pinning both of them creaked and Virgil felt his heart race, realising that he was running out of time. 

Alan was still sobbing, only his head and one arm sticking out from the rubble. Virgil closed the distance between them, kneeling down beside the youngest Tracy.

“Hey Allie,” Virgil said gently. “How are you doing?”

Dulled eyes looked up at Virgil and he wasn’t even sure if Alan could see him.

“Virgil?” Alan croaked.

“It’s me, Allie, I’m right here.”

“Virgil it hurts.”

“I know Bud. I’m going to get you out soon, okay? And then we can all go get ice cream. What flavour do you want?”

“Virgil, I’m scared.”

Virgil’s heart hurt. He reached out, brushing the hair from Alan’s face. Virgil’s hand came back red.

“Everything’s going to be just fine.” Virgil said, hiding the blood from Alan. “Help is on the way.”

So Gordon had suspected internal bleeding and Alan had a suspected head injury and god knows what else. Both conditions were critical, both could be fatal even if they were freed from the rubble. 

“Virgil?”

“Yeah Allie?”

“Where’s Gordon?”

Alan had known exactly where Gordon was the last time Virgil had spoken to him, Virgil had explained to both Gordon and Alan that there was the same weight that was on them and if Virgil started shifting things around it risked a total collapse.

Alan had known. He had begged Virgil to save Gordon in the same way that Gordon had begged for Alan to be rescued. Alan had known all of that and yet he barely seemed aware of where he was let alone the predicament he was in. The head injury was worse than Virgil had feared.

He had to get Alan to a hospital. Now.

There was coughing, loud wet coughing, and Virgil felt his blood run cold. 

“Alan,” Virgil said. “I’ll be right back, alright? I just need to… See to someone.”

“Don’t go.” Alan begged, his eyes wide. 

Alan reached out towards Virgil, frowning when he realised that he could not reach him because Virgil was already standing. A fresh tear rolled down Alan’s face, mingling with the old. There was more blood that stained the floor beneath him now but Virgil forced himself to ignore it.

“Just count to one hundred,” Virgil said. “I’ll be back before you’re done.”

For a moment Alan pouted and Virgil could have almost been fooled into thinking that everything was fine and he wasn’t trapped he was just being a dramatic teenager with an attitude that doesn’t like listening to instructions.

“One. Two. Three.” Alan said, each number a little slurred. 

Virgil forced his tired body to move back towards Gordon. Given how quickly Alan was deteriorating, he didn’t have much more time. Gordon was still coughing by the time Virgil reached him.

“Gordie!” Virgil said, skidding on his knees the last few meters to get to him.

Gordon’s whole chin was red now, the colour otherwise drained from Gordon’s face. Gordon’s amber eyes flickered to him. He didn’t even attempt to smile this time, coughing up more blood. Virgil needed to get him on his side to keep him from drowning in his own blood but there was simply no leeway with how Gordon was pinned. 

“Go.” Gordon choked, his body trembling. “Get him out of here.”

“Gordon, I won’t leave you.”

“Virg, please, if you wait any longer we’ll both die. Get Alan out. Now.”

Alan or Gordon.

A head injury or internal bleeding.

A brother or a brother.

Either way it was the wrong choice yet he was still going to be forced to choose or else he was going to lose both of them. 

Virgil remained frozen in place. 

“Virgil,” Gordon sighed, the coughing at last seeming to pass. “If it helps, I can’t feel my legs. If you get me out instead of Alan and it turns out my back is broken again you know exactly what I will do.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.” Gordon said. “There is no choice to make. You are saving Alan and you are saving him right now. But…”

Gordon took in a deep breath and for a moment he flinched and Virgil was certain he was going to bring up more blood. He didn’t. When Gordon continued, he was sounding even weaker than before.

“But I can’t promise you I won’t scream. You need to keep moving anyway, no matter what happens to me, okay?”

“Gordon please… Don’t make me do this.”

“I’m sorry Virg, I guess I was always the annoying one. Tell Penelope I love her, won’t you?” 

Virgil wiped away the tear that rolled down Gordon’s face. Then, he lent down, pressing his lips against Gordon’s forehead. 

“She already knows.” Virgil assured him. “You did declare it on international television.”

Gordon barked a laugh but the laugh quickly became a cough. Virgil waited by his side until it passed, brushing fingers through Gordon’s hair if only to keep himself distracted from the crimson that stained Gordon’s lips.

“Not my finest moment.” Gordon said. “Though in my defence, I do remember you making a fool of yourself at that same interview. Something about Conrad?”

It was Virgil’s turn to laugh and if he closed his eyes maybe he could fool himself into thinking they were back home, sharing these laughs over a good drink and maybe a video game. Alan would be there too, tackling Virgil mid game if only to make him lose. Scott would be pretending to be too old to enjoy game night while he stayed close by anyway and John might even get enough time down on Earth to come to.

Yes, if he closed his eyes, Virgil could almost imagine it. 

But then the rubble shifted again and Gordon bit back a cry, tears mingling with the blood. Alan hadn’t made a sound loud enough for them to hear this time and if anything that worried Virgil more than if he had screamed out. 

With one more kiss on Gordon’s forehead, his eyes stinging, Virgil stood and left his little brother for the last time. Every step towards Alan felt harder than the last but he continued on anyway knowing that Alan needed him.

Alan was still awake but he seemed to have only gotten more confused in the time that had passed, blinking slowly and mouth moving in silent words.

“Hold on Allie,” Virgil said. “I’m going to get you out of there. It’s going to hurt, but I need you to trust me, okay?”

Alan’s eyes flicked to Virgil. He blinked. And again. Finally, Alan tilted his head.

“Virgil.” Alan mumbled. “What are you doing in my room? It’s not Christmas yet…”

Virgil crouched down beside Alan, testing where he could lift from. Alan jolted as the weight on top of him shifted, his eyes blowing wide and though Virgil rushed an apology, another shift happened first and Virgil heard a piercing scream from the other side of the wall.

Recognition dawned in Alan’s confused eyes and tears started flowing freely.

“Gordon.” Alan said. “That was Gordon. I have to… I have to help him. I have to, he’s my brother, I have to…”

Virgil gritted his teeth and tried the rubble again. This time Alan screamed too and it was all Virgil could do to keep working, keep moving the rubble without thinking about how he was most likely killing both of his brothers right now. Quickly he moved, quicker still as Alan gave off a new cry, the weight apparently crushing his leg. 

Virgil kept working even as Alan begged him to stop, even as Gordon’s screams broke off, even as his own heart pounded against his chest and his mind roared at him that he was hurting them, that he was killing them.

Virgil kept working because there was nothing else he could do.

Clearing the worst of the rubble off of Alan, Virgil gripped Alan’s arms and tugged. Alan screamed, his leg still trapped. Gordon still wasn’t making a sound but Virgil kept working, trying to free Alan’s leg as quickly as possible as the whole building creaked around them.

One final pull and Alan was shaking in Virgil’s, his leg bleeding profusely and his head threatening to roll back, blond hair mixed with red. 

“I’m going to lift you up,” Virgil warned.

Even with a warning Alan screamed. How could he not, his leg was badly cut and the whole world was spinning. Alan clutched onto Virgil’s uniform and buried his head into his brothers chest, desperate for the pain to stop.

Virgil carried him outside, apologising with every step, only setting him down when they were fully clear of all the damaged buildings. Alan tilted forward and threw up.

“What’s…” Alan moaned, holding back another gag. “Happening?”

“It’s okay Allie,” Virgil cooed, rubbing circles into his back. “You’ve just got a concussion. And most likely a bit of shock too.”

“Shock.” Alan said dumbly. He blinked, slowly. “There are two of you.”

“Yep.” Virgil said. “That’s the concussion too. Now, Alan, help will be here soon but I’m going to need you to stay awake. Call out to anyone you see, okay? There’s… Something… I need to do.”

“Something.” Alan mumbled. 

He was tilting forward again and Virgil realised that he should not risk leaving Alan, not when it was highly likely that he would throw up again and possibly fall into his own sick. But he couldn’t just leave Gordon trapped there, even if Gordon had gone silent. Even if Gordon had made his own peace with it, Virgil had not yet given up on him.

Virgil stood, his legs shaking. 

Who was he kidding. He had known what would happen when he made his choice. Alan or Gordon. Not both. It could have never been both.

“Virgil!” A voice called. 

How Virgil would ever be able to look his family in the eyes again he simply did not know. As an older brother, he was meant to protect his younger siblings and yet he had let Gordon die in order to get Alan out. 

He had failed Gordon. 

He had killed Gordon.

“Virgil, look at me!”

Virgil blinked. 

“Scott?” His voice cracked. 

But Scott couldn’t be here. The signal had been lost in the initial disaster, there was no way Scott could have found them so quickly. 

“It’s me, brother. Are you okay? Is Alan alright? Where’s Gordon?”

Virgil’s lip wobbled. In an instant Scott was holding him, a hand on the back of Virgil’s head. 

“Just breathe, Virgil,” Scott murmured in his ear. “Breathe.”

“I tried… I couldn’t… If I got him out then it would have crushed Alan and he was begging me Scott, he was begging me to save Alan. He said that he couldn’t feel his legs and you know how hard it had been for him after his accident and he was begging me. There was nothing I could do.”

“Shh, Virgil, it’s alright. Deep breathes, follow me. In, two, three, four. Hold, two three, four, out, two, three, four. That’s it… That’s it Virgil, you’re okay.”

It had been a long time since Scott had held him like this, usually it was Virgil who was offering Scott support after difficult missions. But in the same way that Virgil was an older brother to Alan and Gordon, Scott was Virgil’s older brother and so he would stand here holding him for as long as Virgil needed. 

Virgil took in another few deep breathes before he had the strength to pull away.

“Alan has a concussion,” Virgil said. “He’s been vomiting and there’s a deep laceration to his right leg. It didn’t hit his femoral but it’s still pretty bad.”

“Okay.” Scott said. “John, did you get all that?”

When John’s familiar voice crackled over the radio, Virgil wanted to cry again. Somehow communications had been set up again and Virgil had been so out of his depths that he hadn’t even checked.

“I’ve got an ambulance en-route.” John said. “Updating them on Alan’s condition right now. Any word on Gordon?”

Virgil stiffened and Scott set a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“Call another ambulance,” Scott said. “We’re going to get him out of there.”

Virgil did not need to be told twice, his legs already taking him back towards the collapsed building. Towards his little brother, towards the hope that maybe everything was going to work out after all.

It took another fifteen minutes before the first ambulance made it onto the scene. Alan was extremely confused as they loaded him into it, asking after Gordon while barely understanding why he was so worried about him in the first place. Gordon was always fine and yet Alan distantly knew that something was wrong, distantly remembered him crying out in pain. 

According to the paramedics, Alan had been lucky. The excessive amount of blood from his head was from a superficial wound and with rest and fluids his concussion would settle. He would still have to be on the head injury protocol and his leg would have to be operated on but he was going to be okay all the same. 

It was another seven and a half minutes after that before they managed to pull Gordon from the rubble. He was unconscious and bleeding internally just as Virgil had guessed but by some miracle he was alive. From preliminary reflex tests on the ambulance, Virgil holding his hand the whole time, it was declared that Gordon’s back was actually not broken though a multitude of tests at the hospital would be needed just to be certain.

Virgil contacted Lady Penelope on the way and she assured him that she would be at the hospital at the earliest possibility. Virgil did not mention how he had chosen to save Alan’s life over Gordon’s and he wasn’t sure if he would ever be strong enough to admit that to her. 

He had been lucky this time, both Alan and Gordon had somehow survived despite the fact that not only had Virgil hesitated to make a call he had eventually decided after all that one of them should survive at the sacrifice of the other. 

No, while Virgil had been lucky this time that didn’t mean they had gotten out of this unscathed. How he would ever face Gordon again knowing that he left Gordon to die, even at Gordon’s own insistence, Virgil did not know.

All Virgil did know was that he never wanted to be forced to make a choice like that again.

[z2z-gaming-and-random-art-ai]

Random Art AI Issue 12

Issue 12 of Random Art AI, each issue will have four randomly created pieces of AI art with a collection issue at the end of each month containing all issues for that month. These early issues probably won't be very good as i was still learning how to properly prompt for them. 

1. Intro 00:00 

2. Nuclear Explosion 00:10 

3. Post Apocalypse Survivor 00:30 

4. Misty Street 00:50 

5. Collapsed Building 01:10 

6. Outro 01:30 

Twitter (Gaming & AI Art) 

https://twitter.com/zero2zedGaming 

Instagram (AI Art) 

https://www.instagram.com/random_art_ai/

YouTube (Gaming & AI Art)

https://www.youtube.com/@Zero2Zed

[friendlylocalwhumper]

White dulls to a moody dull blue, then erupts into fiery orange. Quinn blinks dazedly up at the sky, watching the sunset. Fingers coated in dust and blood scrape and push weakly at the chunk of concrete atop their chest, pinning them to the pile of rubble.

When Major rolled the shard of building over to them and let it slam onto their chest to pin them, they were already dazed from the beating he gave them. The dizziness hasn't left since. They draw shallow, fluttery breaths, their ribs creaking in protest against the weight. A few are broken, and Quinn has been battered by waves of panic as they've felt one rib or another nearly cave under the pressure, too.

Hours of effort have done nothing to move the rock, and now their trembling fingers barely push anymore. It is only their survival instincts, not logic, keeping their efforts alive.

Crunch. Crunch.

At first they hold their breath and fear that they are hearing, but not feeling, more bones giving way. Like they're finally dying and they've gone numb. But the sound is coming from behind them.

Crunch. Scrape. Crunch.

A shadow crosses over them. A silhouette consumes the sky that's given up its rosy pink for a more suffocating navy blue.

Wide brown eyes blink up at the man who is now crouching down to look at them. He's not covered in dust. His uniform is clean, black tee and cargo pants and probably the high-laced boots with steel hidden at the front.

"I guess work is canceled for today," He says, and whether he feels amused or angry isn't clear yet. He works here, he's - a guard, a torturer? He had coworkers here, dead friends… Quinn keeps wheezing faintly, waiting for more signs of his intentions. 

He kneels beside their head and touches their cheek. Quinn swallows nervously, eyes flicking to the side in an attempt to escape his unfaltering gaze.

"Do you know who did this, warlock?"

They did. Quinn blew up this building, watched it crumble from afar, hesitated to come rescue their friends that were buried in the rubble. They were pinned here after the fact, not during. They shake their head no.

His fingers slide down their cheek to their chin. Their breaths hitch.

"You're near the front door. You made it out. Saw something, hmm?" His forefinger taps under their jaw. Will he strangle them? Quinn squeaks and shakes their head again.

His hand finds a firmer grip on their jaw, slowly turning their head to the side. His other hand crosses their chest to hold onto their shoulder. As their cheek presses against sharp stone and gravel, Quinn draws quicker panicked breaths that stir up a cloud of dust. He's in position to snap their neck, now.

"Shh. I'll put you out of your misery. Since you aren't useful."

From behind gritted teeth comes a strangled whine. "Don't, d-, don't, please…"

The man hums. "You speak! Great. What did you see?"

"I - I…" They're close to hyperventilating, but the grip on their jaw shifts so the side of his thumb can stroke small circles into their cheek, and against their will, Quinn settles down. "I saw my… couple of warlocks running away."

"Mmh." He stops shoving their face down against the gravel, allowing them breathing room and the less immediate threat of a snapped neck. "Good start. You'll tell me everything after I get this off of you."

His hands are gone, suddenly, and the silhouette moves above them. Quinn's eyes flutter shut in a muted flinch. Rubble crunches under his boots, and then the massive chunk of building atop their chest shifts, and Quinn chokes out a wretched half-scream.

"Barely even touched it," The guy mutters, half amused and half judging. Quinn draws a shuddery breath and tries to calm themself, humiliated. 

The concrete chunk rocks once, twice, and then rolls off of them. Through each heave of it Quinn tries and fails to scream. As its weight compresses the side of their ribcage to finally roll off, they suck in a noisy, reedy gasp which cuts off as the pain gets too extreme for breathing to be worth it.

They blink dazedly up at the sky, silent, with a handful of freshly broken ribs that just gave way under that rolling concrete. A mewl, then a broken sob tumbles out of them, and they lie there gasping like a gutted fish dying on dry land.

Nonplussed and moving with slow confidence, the man feels along their chest for the breaks, grunts, and then scoops them up into his arms. The last thing that Quinn sees is the night sky hurtling toward them, and then it goes black.

[littlewalken]

Shake table tests, for folks who like to watch buildings fall down but don't want anyone to get hurt. Fuck yeah this is totally a career.