#altprompt
https://archiveofourown.org/works/34332892?view_adult=true
Fic Summary: For Giorno, it’s already hard enough hiding the fact that he is a dhampir from most of the people around him. A sudden craving for blood unexpectedly causes him to lose control, and he attacks Narancia and Trish in an attempt to satiate that need.
Whumptober Day 23
“Maria, I’m here.” Chaia rushes over to her wife’s hospital bed. “I am so sorry I couldn’t be here earlier, I got caught up in an important work presentation. But I am here now.” She stares down at the waist belt that restrains her wife to the bed and slides her hand down to grasp Maria’s hand, which is held firmly against the bed by its own restraint. “It looks like it was hard today. That must’ve been really scary. I’m here, and I’m going to make sure that they don’t scare you like that again, okay?”
Whumptober Day 22
“How’s the internal med rotation treating you?” Anna asks Rory, handing him a coffee.
“Not as exciting as the ED. But I definitely don’t miss all the screaming.” Rory responds.
Just as Anna begins to walk away from the coffee counter, Dr. Howell calls her name from the ED down the hallway. “Anna! We need all hands on deck in here!” Her shouts are quickly overpowered by a distant screaming.
Anna places her coffee next to the coffee machine and rushes to the ED doors, turning around to ask Rory, “You coming?”
He follows Anna to find a patient screaming in pain from his injuries.
Dr. Howell takes note of Rory’s appearance. “Dr. Byrne, good to see you. We’ve got a mass casualty from a car crash on the interstate. Go take the patient in 3.”
Whumptober Day 20
Demetra rushes over to Omar, who is strewn out on the floor of their apartment. “Omar, are you awake?”
“Yeah,” he replies weakly.
“Where does it hurt? Do I need to call an ambulance?”
“My head. And everything is blurry. Just carry me to the car.”
Day 13: Regret [Alt Prompt]
Summary: Eleven has regrets.
Word count: 100
“I wish I had never left. I shouldn’t have gone back,“ Eleven said.
Erik sighed, slipping his hand from Eleven’s shoulder up to his cheek, Eleven flinching as he did it.
"You didn’t know what was gonna happen,” Erik said. “No one can blame you for that.”
“Still, it’s going to be the biggest regret of my life.”
“I guess it’s true that you can’t do much worse than near-destruction of the universe… twice,” Erik said.
Eleven scoffed. He was glad he could still see the humor in Erik’s words even if they cut pretty deep.
“You’re right about that.”
Day 21: Threats [Alt Prompt]
Summary: Eleven speaks to Erik before leaving for the World Tree.
Word count: 787
Eleven had only been back in Cobblestone for a few days and he already hated it here. He hated how people stared at him. He hated how much his mum had cried when they’d told her the news that the other him was dead. He hated having to exist anywhere but with the people who had gone through Hell and back with him.
It was a mistake to have come here. A mistake that he wanted more than anything to fix, but that would require him to go back to the World Tree.
And the problem with that plan was that the others didn’t want him to go.
Eleven believed it was because a part of them deep down still thought he was the Darkspawn and was set on destroying everything. In truth, Eleven just wanted to go home. He wanted answers. He wanted to see his Erik again and Serena and everyone else who had helped him defeat Mordegon the first time.
The ones who had seen the apocalypse with him.
The others in this timeline were keeping tabs on him, he knew it. They probably even had someone scouting his bedroom at night to make sure he was asleep.
If it were the otherRab and Jade, El might have been flattered they were that worried. But with them, it just felt like an annoyance. An extra slap to the face after they had left him to rot away in a prison cell when it was their own El they should have been worrying about.
A bunch of stupid hypocrites, that’s what they were.
Eleven had snuck out one night and visited the tree root in the center of Cobblestone. Gemma had been there. She had made things feel okay— at least for a little while.
And then Eleven had tried it a second night and ran into Erik on the way out the door.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Erik asked.
Eleven had been fully dressed. He’d had all his provisions strapped to his back, including extra magic water and special medicines. He should have known it would be Erik he’d run into on his way out.
“The World Tree,” Eleven said.
He stood in the center of the living room. Erik leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed.
“Oh no you aren’t,” Erik said.
What did it have to do with him? Eleven narrowed his eyes.
“I’m going.”
He strutted toward the exit and tried to push past Erik. Erik held up his arms and pushed back.
Eleven had grown substantially weaker than he’d been once and was silently surprised at how much force Erik had shoved him with. That, and there was still a part of Eleven that could not, in good conscience, hurt his partner.
He remained inside the cottage and tightened his grip on the bag slung around his shoulder.
“I want to leave, Erik. Please let me go.”
“Why should I?” Erik asked. He dropped his arms. “Honestly man, aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to take a break for a little while?”
“No.”
Erik stared at him. Eleven wanted to look away instead of staring back into those shocking blue eyes.
“You’re making a mistake,” Erik said.
“I’ve already made plenty. What’s one more?”
Eleven stepped forward and tried to push past him again. Erik shook his head and grabbed him by the shoulder.
The touch terrified him. Eleven jerked away.
“Erik, it’s not fucking funny anymore. I’m goingto the World Tree.”
“Why? Because you think dredging up recent trauma is a good idea?”
“Donotjoke about that with me.”
“I’m just saying, I think you’d feel a lot better if you actually tried to talk to us instead of bottling all your feelings up and thinking the World Tree’s gonna solve all your problems.”
“You think I haven’t tried?” Eleven retorted. “I’m trying my hardest, and I’ve gotten guff for it. It’s not like you guys care about me anyway.”
“We do.”
“No you don’t.”
“We do, El. Promise,” Erik said.
“I’m going to the World Tree,” Eleven stated one last time. He reached for the sword at his side. “If you get in my way again, I willfight you.”
This time, Erik stepped aside, although he frowned and turned to stare at El’s back as he strutted onto the clearing in front of his house.
“What do you plan on finding there, anyway?” Erik asked. “You’re only gonna make things worse by leaving.”
“Then so be it,” Eleven said. “Better than seeing the end of the world here.”
He raised his hand to the sky and, latching eyes with Erik as he cast the spell, disappeared to a far-off place.
Day 20: Mercy [Alt Prompt]
CW:death mention, suicide mention, self-harm, unnatural disasters
Summary: Eleven returns to the World Tree as the world falls apart.
Word count: 853
Thunder shook the world. Bits of earth broke off like a crumbling cookie, the pieces of land slowly moving through the sky, leaning away from the rest of Erdrea.
On Yggdrasil, each time there was a tremor, all of it shook. When the rain came, so too did lightning, which struck its great branches and led the mythical animals that lived in its foliage to scatter.
By the time Eleven had climbed back up, he’d kicked off his shoes and walked with blistered feet through the foliage. The tree was still a wilted brown color, and it stank of earth here, of life that soon would not be living.
Another earthquake sounded and Eleven reached out, grabbing one of Yggdrasil’s branches. It broke off, and he almost fell from her boughs, only managing to balance himself at the last moment.
His heart beat rapidly when he approached the Heart. He reached for the sword on his back and stepped forward.
All was quiet here. It was just him and Her.
Her.
The thing that had started everything, and the thing that was destined to end it, too.
When Eleven had first learned that he was the Luminary, he’d been grateful to her. Happy that he was the chosen one. He’d thought to himself, “Gee, I sure am lucky that I was picked for this special job!”
Now all he thought was, “Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? Why did you do this to me?”
But he couldn’t bring himself to hate Her. It wasn’t Her fault that he’d failed. Eleven liked to believe she even pitiedhim, felt bad for seeing the way everyone had pushed him under the water, not giving him even a second to breathe.
Eleven’s nose stung and his eyes watered as he reached the heart and held out his trembling hand. The leaves began to unravel, revealing the sword.
Finally. Finally. The only thing he had wanted this whole time, and he was finally getting it. He could finally rest.
Eleven stepped into the warmth of Yggdrasil’s branches and folded his hand around the scabbard. He pulled the sword out and trembled as he brought the tip of the blade toward his chin.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Tears streamed from the sides of El’s face. He opened his eyes, staring at the Seer.
They stood in the clearing. Lighting streaked across their face. A small smile rested on their face.
Eleven closed his eyes again and lowered the sword.
“I…” he silently mouthed the word then bit his lip hard enough to bleed. It stung, and his breath came out shuttering.
“Eleven, it isn’t your fault,” the Seer said. Their voice was gentle. He heard them stepping across the foliage and stopping in front of him.
Eleven shook his head. He was a coward, right till the bitter end.
“The world is ending,” he said. “I failed.”
“I don’t think you failed. I think they failed,” the Seer said. “You can’t control others, only yourself. And even to the end, you only wanted to do what was right.”
Thunder rumbled. Rain whipped outside. The tree shook, and Eleven’s hand tightened on the scabbard.
“Let go of the sword, Eleven.”
Eleven closed his eyes and dropped the sword at his feet. He dropped to his knees and covered his eyes with his hands.
“Eleven… Is that… you?”
A voice he didn’t recognize now murmured. He lifted his tear-stained face and looked around. The Seer still stood next to him, though they vanished like smoke as the voice spoke again.
“I thought… I still felt… you.”
Who are you? Eleven thought silently.
Light began to fill the heart of the World Tree, so bright that Eleven had to cover his eyes to keep from being blinded. When he opened them again, he was kneeling in front of a large, white dragon, one that was all bones, skinny and aging. Eleven gaped. He thought he’d heard rumors of the World Tree in this form before, but never…
“Your soul… it is… incomplete,” Yggdrasil said. “Child, what has happened?”
“I destroyed the world,” Eleven said. “You’re sick. I should be dead.”
“Oh no, my dear…”
Yggdrasil swooped in closer and he closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, she was gone.
“Yggdrasil, please… please, I just, I want to go home,” Eleven said. His voice cracked and tapered into a desperate wail. "I just want to go home again.”
“Do you… understand… what you are asking for?”
“I know, and I tried to do good by you, but I just— I can’t do this anymore. I’d rather kill myself than keep going like this. Please, if there’s any way…”
“The Tower of Lost Time… it still stands. But you must hurry… it will not exist for much longer.”
Eleven shot to his feet and nodded. “Okay.”
“Eleven.” The Seer’s voice returned again and he felt the ghost of their touch on his shoulder. “Do not blame yourself for this. But now it is time for you to take action.“
“I understand.”
Day 23: Screaming [Alt Prompt]
CW:death mention
Summary: Erik and Jade have a fight over an Eleven who’s traveled back in time.
Word count: 309
It was a sunny afternoon when Erik approached Jade with a winning smirk on his lips.
“Hey Jade, you’ll never believe what I found,” he said.
Jade’s face already fell into a frown when he sidled up to her with his hands behind his back.
“Let me guess, other damming evidence that El is still here,” she said.
“Yep!”
Erik pulled the bag from behind his back and dangled it in front of her.
“This is ridiculous,” Jade groaned. She turned on Erik and narrowed her eyes. “He’s not coming back. You need to stop living in a fantasy.”
“I’m not living in a fantasy,” Erik snapped back. “I found his bag! Which means the rest of him could still be out there somewhere!”
Jade closed some of the space between them and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Erik. You need to let go. This obsession is killing you.”
Obsession? This? Erik scoffed. He pushed her hand off his shoulder and scowled. “I will find him, whether you help me or not.”
“You’re not going to find anything!” Jade shouted. “Don’t you know he’s dead?”
“Why are you so insistent about this?” Erik yelled back. “It’s almost like you want that to be true!”
“It’s not—” Jade groaned, pinching the space between her brows. “It’s not that I wanthim to be dead. You know that. But I hate seeing you like this. It’s tearing you apart.”
“It’s giving me hope,Jade,” Erik sneered, “something you wouldn’t know anything about.”
Then he strutted away, his knuckles turning white as they curled around El’s leather bag.
Day 11: Comfort [Alt Prompt]
CW:death mention, allusion to Alexithymia (problems with feeling emotions), crying
Summary: Gemma visits Eleven in the middle of the night.
Word count: 587
Something was different about Eleven since Gemma had last seen him.
Actually, it would be easier to count what was the same over what was different.
He was quieter, had shorter hair, frowned a lot more, and, most importantly, had a scar over the left side of his face. She heard rumors that the Luminary mark had a similar scar, too.
When Gemma had first seen him walk into Cobblestone with the rest of his team, she had wanted to run up to him immediately and figure out what had happened. But he’d glanced back at her with a look that froze her on the spot.
It wasn’t long after that that Amber had pulled her aside and told her in tearful but hushed tones that thatEleven was from a different timeline.
And that the one she knew had passed away.
It was like having a boulder thrown at you. All the air was knocked out of her.
She cried. A lot. And holed herself up in her room.
Grieving is a tricky business. It doesn’t happen quickly. When Chalky died, El had been beside himself for days.
Gemma didn’t even know whether to be glad she still had someoneto go to or if she would have preferred no other Eleven.
It’s not like it mattered anyway— he never came out of his room, either.
Maybe he was sick.
As soon as the thought entered her mind, Gemma was determined to overlook the whole, “You’re from a different timeline” business in favor of helping her friend.
She remembered it clearly. It had been a dry and quiet night and Gemma was putting away her embroidery when she saw something outside the window. It was a full moon out, and she saw the silhouette of a person walking.
Gemma had her shoes on and was outside in a matter of seconds.
Eleven was kneeling at the base of their favorite tree. His hand was outstretched and the Mark of Yggdrasil glowed dimly in the night.
“El?” Gemma whispered as she approached.
He withdrew his hand and turned toward her.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was worried about you,” she said.
He stared at her some more and she had to remind herself that he wasregistering her words.
“Is everything okay?” Gemma asked.
Eleven shook his head. “No. But it’s fine. I’m just… I’m just tired.”
“Then you should rest! Has Amber given you any of your favorite soup lately?”
“I don’t feel like eating.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Gemma asked.
She approached and sat down at the base of the tree. She patted the spot next to her. Eleven considered this, then sighed and crawled to sit down next to her.
He put his head in his hands and she imagined that he was crying. But when he lifted his head again, his face looked dry under the moonlight.
“You can cry if it makes you feel better,” Gemma whispered.
“No, I can’t,” Eleven whispered.
Gemma frowned. “Now that’s just poppycock! Just because you’re a boy doesn’t mean—”
“No, I’ve tried to cry, and I can’t.”
“What?”
“I can’t cry.”
“I’m sorry,” Gemma said. She opened her arms up. “Do you want a hug?”
Again he hesitated. Her eyes widened when he leaned forward and rested his forehead on her shoulder, his arms wrapping around her middle.
Eleven sighed, breath rustling her hair, and she held onto him as a tear slid down her cheek.
Whumptober Day 26!
Link to the Ao3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/34210837/chapters/86534524
Title: Adrift - Clark
Prompt: Alt. No. 15 - Anxiety
Word Count: 1798
Clark liked taking the ferry.
Not only was it the quickest way to travel between Metropolis and Gotham across the bay (besides flying, of course) but it also had a nice view of Stryker’s Island and the inside of the boat had the second-best seating Clark had ever come across in public transportation, only topped by the comfy padded bus seats on Route 8 through Metropolis. The crowd on the ferry was always just enough passengers to be considered ‘a lot’ but also polite and orderly in a way that didn’t make such a gathering uncomfortable, and the little booth benches on the boat’s second floor were the perfect spot for him to get a bit of work done during the forty-five minute trip. Lois was not as big a fan of the ferry as Clark was, but he chalked it up to the fact that she had lived near a coastline nearly her entire life whereas the Kansas farmboy still got excited at the cry of gulls and the smell of the ocean.
He had just finished covering a story in Gotham - something about a change in import regulations at the harbor and the effect they would have on shipping charges - and Clark managed to catch one of the last ferries home before they stopped for the night. It had rained a bit that morning, though now the stormclouds had descended and covered Hobb’s Bay in thick fog only abated by a very light sea breeze. Visibility would be down, the ferry captain announced over the PA as the boat left Gotham Harbor, but the radio towers and instruments were operating fine so they would only be a few minutes behind schedule due to reduced speed.
That was fine by Clark - it gave home more time to compile his notes from the interview in Gotham, and he had a snack that he always kept in his bag in case he got hungry. Even with the delay, it wasn’t going to take more than an hour to reach the Metropolis side, then maybe another half-hour by subway to get home around five-forty-five which gave him just enough time to break out the Korean dumplings and start a pot of rice before Lois got back from work. He knew that neither of them had any urgent projects, so maybe if they finished their respective articles before nine they could put on a movie…
Clark knew none of those domestic fantasies of a nice night at home with his girlfriend would come to fruition the moment he heard the soft clunk of what must have been one of the ferry’s propellers, followed by a significant decrease in the boat’s speed - it wasn’t hard to tell that something was wrong.
He considered himself to be a curious person, but unlike Lois, he wasn’t much of a snooper or eavesdropper. Much to both her and Chief’s displeasure, Clark typically preferred to wait until the whole story played out before he started asking questions, and by then he had already missed his chance at breaking the ‘breaking news’. Lois often urged him to take a more direct approach: if he saw something, he should say something. Now Clark could clearly see that the ferry was in a bit of trouble for some reason or other, and he knew that, of course, the quickest way to find out how or why it was in trouble would be to talk to the captain.
A bit reluctantly, Clark grabbed his bag and got up from his seat to seek out the wheelhouse, which wasn’t too hard. After rapping politely on the door and enquiring to the man who answered whether the captain was in, he was presented to an older man who looked genuinely tired with the whole situation and in need of a cigarette as he introduced himself as Captain Pokorny. The captain, after seeing Clark’s press pass, reluctantly gave him admittance into the wheelhouse where most of the ferry’s crew was currently gathered in discussion, and explained the situation.
A propellor - one that had been showing signs of wear-and-tear and was supposed to have been fixed in the last maintenance check-up - had somehow either jammed or broken off of the boat completely, leaving only one working engine that the captain was reluctant to complete the trip on in case it overheated from the strain, which was highly likely considering how old the boat was. In short: they were a little bit stuck.
There was no danger of the ferry sinking in Hobb’s Bay - that would require a leak of some sort, the captain explained - they were just unfortunately stranded and adrift in the open water until the Coast Guard could arrive to give them a tow back to harbor. There was, of course, the chance that the Gotham or Metropolis Harbor Police would show up first, but the general sentiment in the pilot house was that ‘those boys take as long crossing the Bay as it takes to drive damn around it’.
Clark dutifully recorded all of this information, writing it down for a potential story to turn in at the Daily Planet when he got the chance, and asked a few more questions about what the maintenance schedule was like, what sort of improvements the crew thought could be made to the ferry system, and how long before the Coast Guard was expected to arrive.
Having got his answers and what he considered to be a pretty solid basis for a human interest story, Clark thanked the captain and returned to his favorite seat on the ferry’s second floor to wait out the estimated hour or so until help arrived (the Coast Guard had been alerted and would be on their way soon, the radio officer had assured him, but were caught up with an incident involving some missing fishing boats further north).
Clark dutifully transferred his notes from the moleskine notebook he had taken to always carrying with him to the backup drive on his phone so that he could at least have both a physical and digital copy of his work - a skill taught to him by Lois, who was well-familiar with the importance of keeping backups and often kept up to five copies of her stories on various flashdrives, dropboxes, and in desperate times, even her own notebook (a dollar-store composition pad in the bottom of her emergency go-bag). And speaking of her, it occurred to Clark that he should probably let his girlfriend know that he would be a little bit late, except there was one issue: cell service in Hobb’s Bay was patchy at best and straight up non-existent on a normal day, so instead of giving Lois a call and getting the chance to hear her voice, he had to satisfy himself with a short, explanatory text that would hopefully go through sometime soon.
The funny thing was, he could resolve the whole situation all by himself if it weren’t for one tiny issue: Clark was on a boat packed with passengers, and there were just a few too many curious eyes around for the reporter to vanish and Superman appear without somebody noticing the change. No private corners to turn his cape, no hidden closets for him to conveniently step into - even the bathrooms were out of the question considering the ever-present line leading into them. In short, Clark was just a little bit stuck where he was.
He would not say that he had anxiety, he was far too level-headed for that. It was just that sometimes, if he was a bit stressed or under pressure or hadn’t eaten or slept in the past few days, he had the tiniest bit of trouble with keeping his thoughts from wandering to some… unpleasant scenarios.
The boat could sink. The weather could get worse. The Coast Guard or harbor police could get lost and never find them. Or if they were found, the rescuer wouldn’t be able to do anything. To put it plainly, there was the possibility that Clark wouldn’t get home that night simply because there were too many watchful eyes on a ferry in the middle of Hobb’s Bay.
It was a shout from the ferry’s upper deck that caught his attention and pulled him out of his unhealthy downspiral of anxious thoughts. Said shout was followed by many running steps, someone gasping and another praying under the breath as onlookers gathered on the floor above. Clark was obviously curious, and mounted the stairs with a group of passengers ascending to see what the commotion was about, and he was met with the sight of lightly-drizzling fog surrounding the boat, still uncomfortably thick but now punctuated by a sharp flash of color in the mist - a bright red cape drifting on the breeze nearby.
She spotted him immediately - of course she would, he’d have expected nothing less considering how overprotective she was - but made no sign that she recognized him besides a hint of a smile as she observed the gathering crowd, and a slight raising of the eyebrows in his direction as if to teasingly ask ‘what sort of fuck-up have you found yourself in now’.
The uncomfortable ball of ice that had been forming in his chest suddenly got a bit lighter at the sight of her, and Clark found himself almost sighing in relief. She was here, everything would be all right now, he didn’t have to worry anymore - but that wasn’t to say she couldn’t use his help. Clark gave her a quick summary of the situation in hushed tones, knowing that not even the crowd surrounding him would hear while she would pick up his voice with ease.
Once he had explained the issue, she gave him the slightest of nods in acknowledgement, her gaze sweeping the boat itself in a quick glance as she located the problem, assessed the ‘fuck-up’ she had come to rescue him from, and allowed herself to drift on the light breeze just close enough to the boat to ask to speak with the captain about giving them a tow.
The anxiety that had been settling uncomfortably in Clark’s stomach released its hold slightly, and a little more when the captain arrived and an arrangement was worked out between him and Superwoman over the issue of getting to harbor. A Coast Guard vessel was already en-route but it was agreed that the Kryptonian would be allowed to tow them across the rest of the Bay to Metropolis with the CG acting as backup in case something else broke. All in all, the ferry would only be delayed by about ninety minutes and have Clark back on dry land in less than that without having dented his enjoyment of taking the boat in the slightest.
