Fandom Contraversy

First thing’s first I want to thank the people here in the jojo fandom who try not to be toxic. Lately I’ve realized that fandoms can hellishly toxic and thus I’ve been keeping my distance from them andpeople in general. I am however grateful that I can find little corners to have some level of sanity as it’s hard to do this when dealing with fandom in general.

I had left the jojo fandom because of toxicity and nonsense before but wow, I’ve found places much, much worse so I’m now just going to go ahead and be greatful and thankful for the kind and sensible people who are in the jojo fandom.

That being said, this post is NOT about anything pertaining to JoJo so you can kindly skip this if you want. Or reblog this as a warning to stay far, far away from theis particular fandom as ‘there are monsters’ is more than just an expression here.

THERE IS LITERALLY A SEXUALITY AND GENDER WAR GOING ON TO FIND SEXUAL PARTNERS FOR UNDERAGE CHARACTERS AND ONE, WHO IS STUCK IN THE BODY OF LITTLE KID.

The jjba fandom as far as I know didn’t go there… unless I missed something. So for those here in the jojo fandom thank you for having some level of decency.

Now without further ado…

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Note: This going to be a 2 part post because of the length. Below is the first portion.

Dragon quest 11 two post Pt 1:

Alright, let’s talk about a serious issue going on in this fandom. Specifically, the overt sexualization of minors and when I say minors I’m speaking about Eleven and Veronica. At first I kept quiet about it and just ignore it ( like most others in this fandom). I tried to let everyone have their own space in the fandom. However I can no longer stay quiet because I’ve realized what kind of fandom this is.

There is a disturbed sexual obsession with the previously mentioned underaged characters and it’s tearing our fandom apart. This issue is the exact reason why the fandom won’t grow. Arguments over characters sexuality (specifically Erik) in order to depict him in inappropriate sexual relationships with children. This issue simply could be solved by aging up both Eleven and Veronica. Conversely, there are adults (Erik, Jade, Sylvando, Jasper and Hendrik) that you can safely sexualize. But no, many people in this fandom have chosen NOT to do this and instead decided to partake in child pornography. Even worse, you have brought adults into this situation (mostly Erik) to participate in sexual acts with minors.

As mentioned in the previous paragraph, writers and artists of this community (not all but many) have decided to participate in these acts via “cruising”. And by cruising I mean using the characters as surrogates for theirselves to engage in inappropriate behavior. Don’t get me wrong there’s nothing wrong with cruising through characters in fiction as many of us find characters relatable in one way or another. But the problem here is what you choose to do with said surrogate. 

There are two main cruises that are being used in this fandom and they are both damaging. Those two cruises being:

Erik

Because of personal feelings of inadequacy, Erik’s character is purposely misinterpreted to fit the mold of said cruiser. Pieces and parts of him are intentionally erased to create a surrogate for the creator/viewer’s selves. These people have a sexual obsession with Veronica (especially her child form) and will use Erik to do the deed. And by that I mean to participate in acts of pedophilia. Mind you, Erik himself barely even interacted with this character on screen but because of the cruiser’s desire for Veronica they over exaggerate his relationship with her and make it sexual in nature. 

The next cruise: 

Eleven (the Luminary)

We know is the Luminary is supposed to represent two people, the player and himself. So it is expected for him to be used as a surrogate. But the issue lies within people choosing not to age him up in their works. Not everyone does this and some people do age him up which is appreciated. But for those who don’t their a huge part of the problem in the fandom, the sexual attraction to minors in the series.

There are people that are very uncomfortable with this. They feel trapped and thus they won’t speak up. It feels like pedophilia is the norm here and everyone who’s not here for it stay in silent corners of the fandom or leave. And worse many won’t even join and it’s been like this for years ever since the game’s release in 2017.

This needs to stop there needs to be a change. People should be able to feel comfortable in a fan space. It’s unfair for everyone that doesn’t want to participate in this kind of behavior. I love dq xi as much as the next person but please, stop doing this and be mindful of other fans.

Day 1: All Trussed up and Still Nowhere to Go

CW:stab wound, blood, jail time, fire, cold, slight abuse at the hands of mythical law enforcement (knights)

Summary:Eleven gets taken out of jail, but the alternative is not much better.

Word count: 1,856

Eleven was asleep when he felt someone shaking him, and for the briefest of moments, he thought it was Erik kneeling in front of him. But as soon as consciousness returned to him, Eleven smelled the stench of death and shit, and his face screwed up as the hand that had been shaking him shoved him in the shoulder and yanked him up by his hair.

“Get up, we’re goin’,” a deep voice said, the Heliodorian accent thick.

Eleven glared up at the man, who was dressed in the usual bucket helmet garb, and sighed with resignation. Eleven pushed himself onto his knees and then onto his feet. He hunched over immediately, the wound at his side burning sharply.

The guard grabbed Eleven’s arms and wrenched them in front of his stomach. Eleven grunted when he felt metal closing around them and a spark of fear jolted through him. He sighed. Closed his eyes. It was fine. He was fine.

With the handcuffs attached, the guard stood back and admired his handwork, then grabbed Eleven by the wrist and ushered him forward.

No need to be so rough, Eleven thought to say, but for numerous reasons remained silent, fixing his eyes on the ground in front of him.

This was his chance to escape. He had to get back to the World Tree, at any cost. He knew he couldn’t count on the guards to believe anything he said, and there wasn’t going to be any Derk around paying them cash to let him slip past, so he had to do this alone.

He didn’t know where they were taking him, which complicated things. If it was just to a new cell, or worse — to be executed. Fleeing would become a lot more difficult, in that case.

He knew he ought not to wait too long, otherwise the one chance he had to escape might elude him, too.

Eleven tried his wrists as they walked up the first flight of stairs, but the handcuffs were not budging. Did he have enough magical power left for a zap spell? Would he be able to run with the gash in his side, or was a snooze spell a better bet?

Four knights met them at the top of the stairs, sneering at Eleven and the guard who clutched him by the wrist. Their arms were folded behind their rigid backs, rapiers hanging from their hips. They wore helmets, dressed in the typical red scarf and a long, blue tunic with the Heliodorian insignia.

“There’s our precious cargo,” one knight said.

El wasn’t sure which one until they reached out, picking at a strand of El’s hair. “For the darkspawn, ain’t ‘e a looker!”

“Watch out, we dunno what he might do ta ya!” another man shouted.

“But 'e’s still got that great gash in 'is side, don’t 'e?” the other asked.

He reached down and jabbed Eleven in the side, and Eleven doubled over, trying to refrain from audibly gasping or pushing the hands away knowing that might provoke them to pick on him more.

He’d tried to cast another healing spell on himself late the other night, and it had taken, alleviating some of the pain. Eleven doubted the others knew he was capable of healing — that was the last thing you’d expect a darkspawn to be able to do.

Eleven had heard the rumors, after all. From before the World Tree fell. Everyone had been worried about the darkspawn, gossiping about his awful powers, although healing had not been included on that list.

So, Eleven would fall into line. Lull them into a false sense of security, then strike when they least expected it. Erik had taught him that much, at least.

They walked past cells that had people in them, people who sat in corners and chewed their nails or clung to the bars, sitting in their own shit, begging to be freed. As Eleven passed, voices whooped at him, some ignored him, and some stared at him in silent, morbid curiosity. Eleven turned his head away, ignoring them all.

It wasn’t until they made it up the last flight of stairs and toward sunlight that Eleven seethed again, closing his eyes and stumbling into the back hallways in Heliodor Castle.

Goddess, now would be an extremely good time to remember the layout of the castle. And where the guards were positioned. But Eleven could do little more than walk as a guard behind him jabbed him with the business end of his sword.

“He sure is obedient for a darkspawn,” the guard from before remarked, chuckling at the way Eleven tried to avoid more jabs in the side.

“Well, you know, 'e isn’t at full functionin’ capacity right now,” the other said. “We’ll see what he’s really like once we get out in the field.”

Eleven sealed his lips as they opened a small, wooden door into the back yards of the castle.

They stepped outside and Eleven saw white. He gaped. It had been so long since he’d seen the sky, let alone snow…

The cold bit at his body and he shuttered. The little clothes he wore did nothing to protect him against the cold, and he couldn’t hold himself the way he wanted with the shackles attached to his wrists at the front of his body. At least his legs were free — for now.

“You have the carriage prepared?” a guard asked.

“Aye. This way.”

They followed the knight toward a brick wall running along the perimeter of the castle, back around to the front. Eleven stared as the carriage came into view. It included a seat with two horses and a small metal box in the back. As they approached it, Eleven sharply sucked in his breath.

As they opened the door to the box and moved to grab Eleven’s arms, he jerked away from them and bolted, toward the city.

His feet hit ground and he forced himself forward again, sprinting, his heart in his throat.

He felt something hot hit his back and screamed in pain, throwing himself into the snow to put out the fire that spread across his clothing. He could feel his back blistering in the cold, not too happy about being set on fire then put out in the snow.

A knight stood above him, laughed, and reached for his arm again, yanking him to his feet.

This time, there was no holding back. Eleven spit on his helmet and savored the way the knight growled, wiping a large, gloved hand over the metal.

“You’ll pay for that, you rat!” the knight screamed.

“Tch,” Eleven scoffed, lowering his head as they approached the carriage again.

He felt hands touching him all over, hefting him into the carriage when he refused to move on his own. He hit the cold steel floor and lay there, his arms folded over his stomach. He glared at the man who’d shoved him in there, whipping his head away when the man grabbed his hair and pulled him close again.

“You stay still and be a good lil’ evil fing, alright?” the knight asked. His gloved hand slapped Eleven’s cheek, leaving a sting behind. “And look me straight in the eyes when I’m talkin’ to you.”

This is where a true darkspawn would do some real damage to a man who would dare tell him what to do. But Eleven was not that person, no matter how much he told himself he could be. He wasn’t. So he froze and only dropped his shoulders once the door slammed shut.

Well! Wherever could they be taking him? Someone had mentioned seeing him “out in the field.”

He steadily breathed as he examined his cell. He’d had to bend his head to get in and couldn’t stand nor lay completely down. Several sacks of provisions crowded the wall, and barred windows near the ceiling let in white light.

The cell was freezing and each time the carriage hit a bump in the road, everything inside jolted, Eleven’s cut burning anew. At one point, he felt wet trickling down his side and sighed. It seemed the stitches he’d received had broken somewhere, and he was bleeding again. No doubt his attempted escape plan had not been worth the trouble of the pulsing injury on his forehead, either.

He didn’t know how long he sat in that cell, his knees knocking together from the cold. He learned that a patch of his shirt had been burned off, exposing the small of his back to the cold. He was going to get frostbite at his rate. Maybe even hypothermia. And he couldn’t keep his fingers together for warmth.

Eventually, the cage stopped rocking and they stopped.

Eleven crawled up to the door and pressed his ear to it, careful not to linger too long lest he lose it for good.

He could hear voices talking about campsites, about food and dinner. Eleven’s stomach growled and he squeezed his hands tight. He twisted, his hand touching the other one, and groaned. He felt the mark on the back of his hand but it wasn’t glowing.

He briefly wondered if Yggdrasil knew he was here and what She thought about his predicament.

“Ya hear that, darkspawn? Turkey. How do ya feel about that?” A voice called from the other side of the bars.

Eleven rolled his eyes. Expect nothing, and therefore don’t be disappointed when nothing happens. He was already placing bets that they didn’t intend to feed him.

The door slid open with a loud chunk,and the knight who stood in the threshold waved his sword toward Eleven’s nose, corralling him into a corner. The knight grabbed a few of the bagged goods on the floor, then shut the door again.

Light was beginning to fade. Eleven lay down as much as he could, slouching with his back along one wall and sliding his bare feet across the metal until it hit the opposing corner. He reached with his linked hands for one of the remaining flour sacks and dragged it over. He made a makeshift pillow out of it, pressing it against his dry, cold skin, in a configuration that he hoped was slightlywarm.

Much later into the night, Eleven heard shuffling against the metal, then glass clattering on the floor. He was too tired to get up, doubting he would be able to move anyway.

But after a few minutes of contemplation and his chest slowly rising and lowering, Eleven sucked in another painful breath and crawled closer. He leaned down and bit into the turkey on the plate.

It had been so long since he’d eaten meat, and he hadn’t expected it to taste so good, even if it was dry. He closed his eyes and ate all of it, pulling his chained hands closer to his chin so he could shovel the food into his mouth.

Once he was finished, he nudged the plate away and crawled back over to the flour bag, laying his head on the cold floor, curling up into himself as tightly as possible.

Day 25 & 27: Hide & Seek; I’m fine, I Prom…

CW: graphic violence, monsters, blood, death

Word count: 873

Summary: Day Two of Eleven’s trip by jail carriage plays out quite differently than the first.

The next night, Eleven was prepared for the same treatment as the night before. They had traveled all day, the carriage rocking a lot, and Eleven only had a little window through which to see the world. He kept close tabs on it, hoping to be able to identify the region where they walked.

It had started to get warmer out, at least. What a blessing.

That night, El had been falling asleep, too exhausted to keep his eyes open, when the sounds came.

Sounds of tearing and ripping… and men’s screams. Blood-curdling things, to be sure, filled with terror and fright.

It got Eleven’s blood pumping, and he jerked to his feet, but the cell was too low to allow him to stand completely so he compromised with a low slouch, peering through the hole in front of him. He saw darkness, and shadows moving, then the sound of shouting among roars and chewing— sounds that made his stomach curdle.

Eleven jerked back when something hit the cell and he flinched away. Claws tried to grab him, but they couldn’t reach, so they settled on slicing against the bars. They were hairy, bloodied claws, dull gray in the moonlight.

A man’s voice rose among the scratches. “Get the darkspawn! Release the Darkspawn!”

He heard men scrambling, he heard shouts, grunts, inhuman screeches. His heart pounded in his chest and his eyes widened, staring at the little peep hole in front of him. Then he heard keys in the lock, and the door swung open.

Just as it opened, a man fell into Eleven’s cage and gripped at his ankles.

“Help us! Monsters!” He shouted.

Eleven’s eyes already adjusted to the darkness, but he wished they hadn’t.

Because in front of him there was carnage. There were men battling against monsters with their swords held aloft, swinging and missing as the beasts dodged. Some of the scarewolves had already crouched in front of fallen allies, sinking teeth into flesh.

Eleven couldn’t cast, he couldn’t swing a sword. He could only shake his head when the soldier in front of him once again begged for mercy, keeping his back novicely turned on the scarewolf leaping toward them.

The monster grabbed the soldier by the legs and ripped him from the lip of the cell, the man screaming in terror.

Eleven backed away, stumbling back into his cell, and the scarewolf advanced after him. Eleven’s eyes were blown wide, staring into the yellow irises of the creature that was about to tear him apart. His hands were still in shackles, and he needed them off if he had any chance of surviving this.

He did it without thinking. It was reflex, the way he watched the scarewolf move and raise its claws.

Eleven rose his wrists to meet the scarewolf’s claws.

And immediately felt hotrunning down his face, the pain tempered by adrenaline.

More importantly, the chains broke with a sharp shink! And Eleven immediately ducked — collapsed, really — onto the ground before the scarewolf could swipe at him again.

There was no time to think. Only run.

Eleven turned around and darted into the darkness. Anything was better than having to stay behind and deal with that. Hopefully those rotten guards would understand, or, more likely, they soon wouldn’t be alive to.

The ground crunched under Eleven’s feet as he ran. He kept going and going, throwing his head back often to confirm that the recent carnage was not following him.

He’d started to feel faint, his vision hazy and his feet staggering, hot blood dribbling down his chin and fingers, once he landed on a trail.

He’d just seen what could happen to people who were unaware while out camping — you got hacked to pieces by monsters. As much as Eleven wanted to rest and have a full supply of energy for tomorrow, he couldn’t. He had to keep going.

He moved at a snail’s pace, but he’d started to recognize the area around him. The bushes, the rocks, even the sound of running water.

He could think of little else than the comforting visage of a Saint’s Statue by the time the moon rose to its pinnacle and he saw a silhouette in the distance. It was not one of skin but of stone, which at this point in time was much more preferable.

A Saint’s Statue, something the guards should have been camping nearby to begin with, but one completely vacant. There was barely the hint of a campfire nearby and no bedrolls or other belongings left behind, but Eleven didn’t care.

He was free. He’d made it. He could feel the fresh air on his skin again and he could rest in peace.

Eleven muttered off exhausted gratitudes as he slumped against Her robes and gripped the back of his hand where the claws had sliced his skin. He felt it on his face, too— a needle-hot pain signifying that he had been attacked. That although his plan to be freed of his cuffs had worked, he hadn’t escaped without a few fair scrapes to his person.

But he would live. He always lived, trusting that, as he lost consciousness, he was not dying but merely fainting.

Day 24: Flashback

Word count:175

Summary: Eleven remembers something from a past time one morning.

When Eleven woke up, he had an image of Erik leaping on a beach, kicking water at Eleven, the ocean at his ankles. Eleven had laughed and sloshed the water back, and the laughs rang in awake Eleven’s ears, so crisp in his mind.

He smelled nature, fresh and sharp, like Erik.

Eleven pinched his nose and closed his eyes.

He remembered Erik’s voice and the last words he had told Eleven.

Everything’s going to be fine.

The fact that Erik had been so wrong stung like a rapid twist of Eleven’s arm behind his back.

It was never going to be fine,not in this lifetime.​

He would not tempt himself with a false promise ever again. Never tell himself everything would be alright only to be forced down a flight of stairs with a broken heart at the end of it.

“You can never go back home,” as they say, and he didn’t plan to.

Not anymore.

Day 22: They Made me do It

CW:mention of death

Summary:El visits his other self who has been incarcerated after encountering him at the World Tree.

Word count:1,139

Note: Just for reader friendliness, Eleven’s the guy who’s from the future, traveled back in time, and been mistaken as the Darkspawn. El’s the ignorant cinnamon bun who hasn’t seen a lick of act 2 before. (If this longfic thingy ever gets published that was sorta the plan for distinguishing them forever)

Heliodor castle was quiet the evening of King Carnelian’s burial. Jade had holed herself up in her room as soon as the proceedings were over, wearing a black veil and leaving a trail of silent tears behind her, Rab at her side.

El, Erik, Serena, Veronica, and Sylvando sat around a table.

“I still can’t believe Jade’s old man is gone,” Erik muttered.

“I know,” Veronica said. “Here I was thinking the Darkspawn didn’t even exist. He sure played us for fools, huh?”

“How terrifying, to think that someone would use your image for evil,” Serena said, turning toward El. “I rather hate to think about it, actually! He was so ruthless…”

Sylvando smiled. “Don’t worry about him, darlings. He’s locked safely away in jail, where he belongs. And there won’t be his little tea leaf to break him out this time!”

Erik sneered back, but El frowned between them. «Mm…» El hummed. «I don’t know. There was something about his expression that didn’t speak ‘evil’ to me.»

Veronica snorted. “Your body double murders a man in cold blood in front of you and you have the sympathy to feel bad for him?”

El squinted. He lifted his hands and started to sign, his fingers sure. «He came out of nowhere. We hadn’t even run into him before that. And it’s not like he attacked me.»

Sylvando straightened. “That’s because— Well, hmm… you do seem to have a point, darling. Why attack the king and not the Luminary? If he wanted to destroy the world, certainly he would have gone after you?”

Erik shrugged. “Doesn’t bear any thinking about. Don’t you think we have bigger fish to fry? They said Mordegon is still out there somewhere, and we’re left cleaning up this mess. Maybe this was his way of distracting us.”

“Oh, I see!” Serena gasped. “Then we must be more careful then. Perhaps we should leave the castle soon to search for him?”

“Sounds like my kind of plan,” Veronica said, smirking. “What do you say, El? Think we should start off on our next adventure soon to defeat the Lord of Shadows?”

El hesitated. He sighed. «I want to talk to the other me, just once. Before we go.»

The others frowned.

“Talk to him?” Veronica repeated. “And say what? 'You’re cool, let’s be friends’?”

“It could be dangerous,” Serena added. “We don’t know what he’s capable of. What if he hurts you?”

El gestured to the Sword of Light strapped to his back. «I’ll take this with me, for extra security. That should be enough to protect me.»

Sylvando sighed. “I don’t like it, honey, but if you want to talk to him, then I’m not going to be the one to stop you.”

El looked to Erik next. Erik sighed, scratching the side of his head. “What he said. If you think it’s for the best, then I’m not going to stop you. But I’m not sure it’s the best idea.”

El shook his head and rose. «I’m going to give him a chance to explain himself. It’s the least I can do,» he signed.

“Alright,” Erik said. “But be careful.”

- - -

The dungeons were just as El remembered them — dark, dank, and dingy. He pinched his nose as he navigated them, examining the brick walls caked in mildew and moss, examining all the empty cells. They were deeper down than he had ever been before. He didn’t recognize the area nor its rooms, just knew that the other him was in one of these cells.

El approached the last cell and saw movement.

He heard a cough and straightened, reaching for the weapon at his back.

“Oh, if it isn’t me,” an unfamiliar voice spat.

It reminded El of Rab’s, only much younger, with bite to it.

El didn’t speak often, so it was not a surprise to him that he didn’t recognize his own voice, though its tone still shocked him.

The other him crawled forward and El’s expression tightened. Dark stains traveled down one side of other Eleven’s dirtied shirt, and it looked like blood, but it was too dark in the dungeon to tell. El swallowed as Eleven’s hands curled around the bars and Eleven grinned at him, bearing two rows of teeth that flashed white in the dim cell.

“Giving me the silent treatment, huh? I don’t blame you,” Eleven muttered from inside the cell. “Why did you come down here, anyway? Don’t tell me it was to try and convert me!”

El lifted his hands and began to sign. «I wanted to ask—»

“Don’t bother. I don’t understand those… little hand signals you do,” Eleven said, waving them away. “If you have something to say, you can say it with that precious voice of mine.”

El breathed slowly in and out. He opened his mouth. «Who are you?» he asked.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you,” Eleven sneered.

«Who are you?» El repeated, a little louder.

“I’m the Darkspawn, the devoted subject of the Lord of Shadows, and am going to help him return to power. I will cut down anyone who stands in my way and help my master resume his station as the ultimate ruler of Erdrea.”

El frowned. Eleven’s expression twisted and he hunched over, moving his hand across the underside of his shirt. El saw the flash of blood again and frowned.

«How did you get injured?» he whispered.

Eleven glanced down. “Oh, this old thing? I got it fighting one of the guards getting out of here. It hurts, you know. I think this body’s almost outlived its purpose, to be honest. Same as that old bag of bones before. It was nice for a while, but it doesn’t have the most ideal mobility.”

El’s breath hitched and he stepped backward.

A face overlaid Eleven’s and emerged from his body. A long, bony face, pale and white, with sunken eye sockets that held eyes with red irises. The face grinned, lunged through the bars and toward El, latching onto him and shoving him to the ground.

El screamed, but the sound died in his throat as Mordegon overtook his body.

There wasn’t much of a struggle. El gripped himself as if trying to tear Mordegon off him, but there was no use. When he rose again, his eyes were focused on the body lying on the other side of the bars.

Mordegon smirked and reached for the sword on his back, unsheathing it and turning it back and forth. He held it close, testing the grip of it in his hand.

“Thank you for the assist there,” he whispered. “Shame about the whole dying thing, though. Wish I could help, but I have a world to go destroy.”

Receiving no response from Eleven, he twisted on his heel and strutted away.

Day 19: Stabbing

CW:Murder, stabbing, blood, graphic violence, vomit

Summary:Eleven takes out his anger on Mordegon.

Word count: 294

He kept stabbing and stabbing and stabbing and stabbing. All other thoughts left his mind. There was a high-pitched trill in his left ear, one that forced all other coherent thought out of his mind, replacing it with nothing but the sound of that blade sinking into skin.

The face began to twist from one of a human figure to one of skin and bone. The eye melted into itself, the nose pushed to one side, the cartilage broken.

Eleven faintly heard screaming, in some distant land, one that his brain no longer registered.

Someone hooked their arms around his armpits and dragged him away from the corpse.

The body lay flat on the ground and began to disintegrate. Eleven cursed at it, writhing against the arms holding him back, his face bleeding, covered in sweat and tears, as the man who had been the source of all of his hatred, all of the abuse and tragedy he had been suffering for the last months, melted away, leaving behind nothing.

Nothing but a broken man whose any chance at vengeance washed away with it.

Eleven’s eyes moved back over to his own corpse again and he covered his mouth with his hand, feeling bile rise up in his throat. He keeled over and vomited into the space where his victim had once lain, the ground now sullied with vomit and blood.

Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes. He reached up, bloodied index finger wiping away his tears.

“El…”

He turned and caught Serena’s tear-stained face. He shook his head, breathing out a shaky sigh.

Everyone had been right: he was nothing but evil incarnate, a man who existed to bring upon pain and turmoil on everybody else. A murderer twice over.

Day 18 & 29: The Doctor is In, All Work and no Play

CW:blood

Summary:Jasper visits Eleven in his jail cell after he’s been dealt a pretty sour slash to his side.

Word count: 973

When Eleven woke again, he could barely focus his eyes. He felt dizzy, and when he began to rise, he leaned down again, expelling his guts on the ground.

His stomach empty, he lifted his head and looked around.

Last he remembered he’d just been possessed, but as far as he could tell he was still in one piece. One very injured, stabbed-in-the-gut, piece. And his side still burned, though it felt like it had started to clot.

Clotting was good. So long as it wasn’t actively bleeding, though down here he was sure it was going to get infected. Eleven reached up and shook the bars of his cell, attempting to garner the attention of someone, anyone, but nobody came. He sighed frustratedly and dropped back onto the floor.

When was the last time he had eaten? Or drank water? Was he dehydrated? When were they going to come back to check on him? Were they going to check up on him at all?

He felt too weak to move, but maybe there was still some magic he could cast. Something to help him out of here.

He reached for the cell door and his fingers brushed against cold metal, but no lock. If he was going to get out of here, he’d have to think creatively. And he didn’t have the energy for that now.

He sighed, defeated, and rolled onto his side of the bedroll, closing his eyes.

…

Eleven felt someone shaking him and groaned, seething when he moved slightly. His whole body ached, his shoulders and hips especially.

Someone grabbed his elbow and yanked him to his feet.

“No,” Eleven muttered, just above a whisper, desperate enough to warrant vocalized words, yanking his arm away and collapsing to the floor again.

“Do you want my help or not?” the voice asked.

Eleven recognized it immediately as Jasper. Eleven went limp again when Jasper grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet. This time, Eleven shuffled forward tiredly.

If Eleven was the new Darkspawn, did that mean Jasper was his new ally of sorts? Was Mordegon his new boss now? Could Eleven get away with masquerading this and making it look good? He didn’t care much, actually. Just wanted a shoulder to lean against as they walked past the other empty cells.

Eleven winced, grunting when they met a flight of stairs and Jasper helped him up them, half pushing him really, and Eleven almost collapsed in the middle.

“You’re almost as heavy as that big oaf Hendrik,” Jasper said. “I’m not carrying your arse up the stairs, so pick up the slack.”

El attempted a response, but all that came out was another tired groan.

When they finally made some progress, they stopped at a room and Jasper shoved the door open. Eleven dropped onto a stool and groaned, closing his eyes. He leaned back, clutching his waist, and seethed again.

“Let me see,” Jasper said.

Eleven shook his head, keeping his fingers clasped over the wound.

Jasper scoffed and batted his hands away. “I said, let me see, you little petulant—” Jasper grumbled, then cursed times under his breath when he saw what was revealed under El’s shirt.

“What did you do to yourself? For the Darkspawn, you sure do find stupid ways of getting into trouble,” Jasper said. “No heal spell is going to help this. If I close up the wound now, it’s going to probably poison your kidney.”

Eleven rolled his eyes. Like that wasn’t a problem on its own.

«You have to let me go,» he signed. «I have to follow them.»

Jasper watched him, then shook his head at the end. “Not happening. Even if you could move, which you can’t, you would not be very useful.”

Eleven’s lips cut into a thin line. Was Jasper a friend, or foe? That was a slim line to toe. Not one he was certain he felt like stressing the boundaries of now. Best to follow Jasper’s words and be cautious than end up in a grave. He’d already brushed close to death once.

“Take off your shirt,” Jasper said.

Eleven frowned. He glared. Jasper gestured again, more impatiently, and Eleven sighed, lifting it up over his chest.

Eleven saw Jasper staring at the scar on his chest and sighed.

«Happy?» He signed with arched eyebrows, circling a flat palm in front of his chest.

Jasper smirked. “I’m never happy,” he said. “Now lie down.”

He did as Jasper said and lay down. The wound burned on his side and he closed his eyes as Jasper began to work on him.

It felt like Eleven was there for hours. There was a needle and thread. No medicine or numbing agents. Just pure, white pain at the very front of his mind and working its way down to his bones, until the only thing he could think about was controlling his breathing and puffing out his cheeks on the outtake, counting up and down from one to ten obsessively. His hands clenched against the table and didn’t let go until it was over.

When the words “done” finally slipped from Jasper’s lips, Eleven’s muscles were so tight that he couldn’t relax them. He sighed deeply and felt his body, casting a healing spell on himself. The magic that pooled from his hands was dim and barely more than the flicker from a lightning bug. Using the few dredges of magical reserve in his body left Eleven feeling lightheaded.

Jasper laughed. “You’re going to kill yourself that way. Now get up.” He leaned forward and yanked Eleven to his feet, who grunted, rising.

Eleven only reluctantly followed Jasper back down those mildewy stairs and back to his cell, which, away from the smell of antiseptic, he could determine was drenched in the stench of blood.

Had he really bled that much or was Mordegon’s magic in general enough to blame for that?

Jasper shoved El through the doors and Eleven extended his hands, catching himself as he hit the ground with a solid “shump.”

Day 17: Field Care 101

Summary:Eleven revisits an old memory as he starts a new adventure alone.

Word count: 354

“Hey now, don’t need to be so worried. It’s just a little scrape.”

Eleven’s hand glided over pale skin. They both flinched when the fingers stilled over the wound — Erik because it hurt, Eleven because he hadn’t expected it to be so large.

One long, red line, from the outside of his elbow and curving up to his wrist. It wasn’t deep enough to reveal bone, but it was the first time Eleven had seen so much exposed muscle.

Rivulets of green slid from Eleven’s fingertips and faded when making contact with Erik’s skin. Eleven stared as the flesh began to close up, and Erik sighed, shifting his arm away. He lifted it above his head, and Eleven stared at the way his arm twisted and brushed against his blue hair.

“See? Good as new,” Erik said, flexing his fingers.

He grinned, and butterflies scattered in Eleven’s stomach. Eleven smiled nodded.

Erik laughed and reached out, ruffling his hair, and Eleven pushed against him, inciting a small back and forth.

Maybe Eleven was getting all worked up over this Luminary business for nothing. So long as he had healing magic, and so long as Erik stuck by his side, he’d be fine.

Eleven couldn’t heal himself.

He either didn’t have the magical power for it or he’d lost the ability to altogether.

Considering his recent bout of exhaustion, he was betting on the former.

Well, that was just great. He had a huge gash on one side of his face, his hand was bleeding, he was starving, and he had no magic. He rifled through his belongings, which took two seconds, and only came up with a medicinal herb, which he chewed on without hesitation.

Dread settled over him. In the past, he’d depended on his healing too often. He should have learned more practical ways to heal. If he encountered even one monster like this, he was going to be dead meat.

What would the others say? Veronica, at least, would say, “Then don’t die, simple as that.”

He sighed. He didn’t have any better advice, so that would have to suffice for now.

Day 16: Scars

Summary:Eleven’s face has accrued a new scar since Erik’s last seen him.

Word count: 229

“What happened to you?”

Eleven heard a twinge of horror in Erik’s voice as his eyes grazed over Eleven’s face. Eleven reached up and slid his finger down the light ridge of a scar running down the right side of his face, just barely missing his eye.

He knew immediately that Erik was referring to it by the way Erik stared. How could Erik not? Even Eleven struggled to tear his eyes away from himself when he looked in the mirror each morning.

Eleven frowned.

“It was a scarewolf. There had been a raid on the campsite overnight and I’d tried to escape, but my hands were chained up and I needed the chains broken first. It was going for my eyes. I did it without thinking.”

Erik reached for El’s hand and gently ran his fingers over his palm.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still… I just…” Erik shook his head.

He turned to Eleven and opened his arms, gesturing for him to come closer. Eleven shook his head, leaning away from his touch, and Erik frowned, dropping his arms again.

“Is something wrong?” Erik asked.

“I don’t want to be touched,” Eleven said. “I’m sorry. It’s just… whenever I see your face, I…” he sniffed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Erik sighed. “I’msorry. None of this should have happened.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Day 15: Feed a Cold, Starve a Fever

CW:Injuries, blood, hallucinations, delirium

Summary:Eleven’s not feeling so good after escaping capture with some pretty bad injuries to show for it.

Word count: 776

Day Two of being lost in ​the ​Heliodoran wilderness had gone about as good as Day One, if not a little worse.

For one, Eleven had stopped bleeding, although that did not prevent him from being terrified that he was still going to die.

He had never gone this long without healing magic nor a stable food supply​​. He guessed that, at his pace, he was making it about ten miles every day when he wanted to be going forty. It didn’t help that he was still pretty badly injured, with little more than the clothing on his back, the waterskin he’d snatched, and any random items he found in the wilderness that he thought might be useful, like berries.

He would have searched for the camp from before if he thought he could find it but backtracking in this snowy weather seemed like a bad idea.

He set out early the next morning, aiming for a leisurely, forgiving pace, although the fresh scars on his face felt like they were going to pop and start bleeding any moment. “Any progress is good progress.” That sounded like something ​C​halky had said once.

El licked his lips as his knees wobbled. He moved slowly through the underbrush— he was fortunate that most monsters scattered upon first sight of him though he still ached for a sword.

At some point, Eleven’s head began to pitch to one side. He stretched out his arms and caught himself before he’d fallen head-first into the dirt, landing on his knees instead, black spots clouding his vision.

Goddess, he was starting to see things. His eyes blurred and refocused on the foliage in front of him, reading a pair of shoes before they sharpened into browning leaves again.

Eleven rubbed the side of his face and pulled his hand away, seeing blood. His mind raced. Had he hit his head?

He yanked a strip of cloth from his pocket and dabbed at his face. The cloth came out a shock of red.

Panic coursed through him.

Calm down. Calm down. So the scabbing isn’t going so well. It’s fine. You’re still breathing. You’re still bleeding. No, breathing.

He shook his head and kept the cloth pinned to the spot that was bleeding as he walked onward. Now was not the time to be losing hope. He’d just become lunch for a hungry monster if he stayed out here much longer.

His thoughts became more nonsensical the longer he went until eventually he just stared ​a​t the brown strip of a ​dirt ​path in front of him, all other thoughts having left his mind. He didn’t remember when he’d found the path and didn’t know where the snow went. He just knew his feet inched forward on it and that his side screamed, hot and itchy, possibly of an infected wound.

When a hand tapped his shoulder, he jerked backward and almost fell again. A stranger grabbed him by his shoulders to steady him.

“Goddess! What happened to yourface?”

The stranger’s voice came out garbled, half sensical. Eleven looked up and frowned.

A tall man stood in front of him. He had some facial hair, although it blurred together on his face. Eleven pitched to one side again, leaning on the arms that anchored him.

The man gestured ahead. “Let me help you, ya poor thing!”

Eleven was in no state to refuse, so he bowed his head and followed. He was getting too good at following other people around.

The man had a carriage with one horse and a stack of hay bales in the back. He helped Eleven onto them and gestured for him to lay down, promising they were only a little distance from his home.

Eleven’s head exploded with pain as soon as he lay down, the scratchy hay working underneath his shirt to poke at his wounded side. It felt like a cruelcumber was stabbing him — both there and at his forehead.

The cart started moving, its creaky wooden wheels rolling across dirt. Adrenaline kept Eleven awake even though he was exhausted enough to sleep for days, his eyes fluttering closed as he stared at trees that twisted into figures and heard sounds he knewweren’t really there but still paralyzed him with fear.

Day 10: Oops, I Did it Again

CW:blood, injury

Summary: Eleven treats a gash on his face.

Word count: 307

Ice splintered and crackled as Eleven delivered a solid blow to it with his sword. The force of the hit ran up his shoulder and he winced at the sharp sting, flexing the muscles.

His face burned. It had stopped bleeding — he’d reached up to gently dab at his face that morning — but there was probably dried blood staining his face.

He needed ice to calm the cuts and prevent them from bleeding further.

The ice from the river was too thick to crack into small enough chunks for his needs, but maybe if he traveled up or down the bank he would be able to find patches that were more melted. He wasn’t sure whether this was the time for ice to freeze or melt because, as embarrassing as it was, he actually didn’t know what season it was.

It was probably winter. Maybe Eleven should have assumed that by the snowfall he had seen the other day. But was it the middle of winter, or one of the last snowfalls before spring? Cobblestone never got much snow, so Eleven wasn’t in a place to know.

He scouted around the trees and ground for ice frozen over the soil and settled on shoveling some of it into a cloth that he wrapped into a chunky sphere.

Mum used to give him ice packs whenever he scraped his knees or bumped his forehead. In that moment, he picked out a spot near the riverbank and lay down with his makeshift ice pack on his face. The dirt and ice were as cold as the ground, but he couldn’t complain. He closed his eyes and listened to the water, folding his fingers over his chest as he breathed, trying to remind himself that he would live. He wasgoing to get through this. He just had to calm down.

Day 9: Rumors of my Death have been Greatly Exaggerated

Summary: Erik searches for something at the World Tree. And for once, he finds what he’s looking for.

Word count: 892

Erik didn’t know why he felt so nervous. There wasn’t going to be anything in the tree anyway. There was just going to be the heart and a bunch of vines and some leaves. No big deal. Certainly no explosions or cataclysmic events, which, given that they no longer had a Luminary to protect them, would usuallyspell out some real danger and concern for them if Moedegon hadn’t already been defeated.

Erik did the whole trek in silence, Björn hanging at his hip as a sort of silent comfort.

When Erik finally made it up to the tree and began to walk its branches, he was more careful than usual, angling himself on the large, wide branches as his heart thudded in his chest and threatened to make his foot slip, to miss his mark once and spiral into the ground below him.

He never used to be afraid of heights, but here, all alone…

Fears have a way of amplifying themselves when you’re alone. Of consuming you and making something that was once so small feel like the largest thing in the universe.

Erik pretended his fear was the ball of nerves in his throat and he swallowed, willing it to melt in his stomach.

The tree started to brighten the closer he approached the heart. He could see it — about the size of a small shed. Wrapped in vines, with light glistening through.

He sucked in his breath and stepped forward.

There was something in the heart, and it wasn’t a sword. The shadow shifted and Erik flinched violently, almost dropping the knife he held onto it so tightly.

The heart pulsed and the thing inside moved, like an embryo.

It was oval-shaped, like a lotus flower, maybe?

“Yggdrasil?” Erik asked.

A breeze wafted though, cold, making goosebumps rise on his skin.

He approached the heart and pressed his hand on it. He felt it thrum beneath him, shifting underneath his fingers. He leaned in closer, but the film was too thick to see details— just a silhouette. A silhouette of a human.

Erik briefly closed his eyes then pulled out his knife and slid it across the surface of the heart. The vines and leaves parted instantly and the person who was inside fell to the floor with a soft thump.

He was laying in a bath of greenery when Erik knelt in front of him and brushed his brown hair away from his face.

It was El, sleeping with hands tucked under his chin and a soft look on his face that remained even when Erik reached out and gently shook his shoulder.

El shifted away, breathed in deeply, and opened his bright blue eyes. He registered Erik staring at him and smiled.

“El! El,” Erik gasped.

He scooped El up in his arms, and El laughed, returning the hug quickly. He squeezed Erik, and Erik laughed so hard he cried. His nose bent uncomfortably against El’s shoulder as El pulled him close, and Erik smelled him. Love, warmth, life.

I knew he wasn’t dead. I knewit!

Erik missed him. He missed him so much, but he was here. He was back.

Erik and El fell into the earth together, hugging tightly.

When Erik parted, he looked at El beneath him and grinned. “Where'y’ve been? I’ve been looking all over for you!”

El leaned forward, sitting up. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I last remember shattering the Sphere of Time but now I’m here! I guess the travel back didn’t work.”

The way he had such a large smile on his lips, like it was fine that he was here and not back in time like he wanted…

Erik sighed, dropping his shoulders, and reached for El’s hand, squeezing it in his. “Good. I knew it! The whole time, I knew it. I knew you were still here, somewhere, in Erdrea.” With me.

“It would seem so!” El said. “I hope my absence didn’t worry you or the others too much,” he said. He looked around, registering where he was seemingly for the first time. “I’m a little drowsy. How long was I out?”

Erik shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re here now.”

Erik rose to his feet and lowered his hand to El, offering up a gentle smile.

El’s hand hesitated. Erik tilted his head and El gestured down to his body, which Erik registered for the first time as being naked. El’s other hand was placed conveniently so, with his knees bent and his cheeks a gentle pink.

“Oh, let me help you,” Erik said.

He untied the sash around his waist and pulled off his green tunic. He extended it to El, who took it quickly, smiling.

“Thanks,” El whispered, securing the tunic around his body. Erik turned around as El stood, then he returned again to staring and smiling at El’s body.

El cleared his throat. “Where to?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Erik hummed. “Good question. Well, the others will want to know you’re back, of course. Let’s go back to Cobblestone, then. They’ll be waiting for you there,” he said, extending his hand to El.

El glanced down at it for only a brief second then grinned and grabbed it, smiling the widest smile Erik had seen since they first met.

Day 6: Hunger

CW:self-hatred, mention of past death, mourning

Summary: Eleven returns to the World Tree after going back in time.

Word count: 824

Eleven listened to the sound of water trickling into a teapot and closed his eyes.

His bare skin felt cold in the morning light. His heart felt like a shriveled-up burden in his chest. His mouth tasted faintly of shit and self-hatred.

He closed his eyes again and was about to turn over in bed when he heard footsteps across the floorboard and feet stepping into his room.

“Eleven?”

The whisper was gentle, gentler than he probably deserved.

“Mm,” Eleven hummed, half-awake.

“I brought you some tea…”

Serena tried to walk forward, but she was trembling in her shoes. Even the dishes in her hands quivered and Eleven shook his head, gesturing for her to stay away.

She seemed fine without further encouragement, nodding and setting the things on the table near the door. Serena stepped out and shut the door behind her.

It felt good to be in silence again. Eleven took in a steady breath and listened again to the sound of voices and leaves rustling gently on a summer breeze outside.

He’d been trying to rest for hours. He couldn’t sleep. He was so afraid of closing his eyes and having them never open again. Or of seeing himself on the inside of his eyelids, shadows of his own murder flashing in front of him. Seeing green made him feel like he was there all over again, and a blade was coming for him, and goddess, the fact that anyone was even willing to talk to him right now must have been something of a miracle. He wouldn’t want to talk to himself.

When Eleven imagined Erik, Rab, or Gemma mourning the other him, he felt like puking. Or crying. Or both, though he didn’t have the appetite for it. It was like the ability to feel anything about the experience had been torn from his body.

Eleven rose to his feet, walked to the door, and picked up the dish Serena had left out for him. He walked back to his bed and sat down. He placed the platter on his lap and slowly dug his way through it.

There was soup here. It smelled like something he’d have back in Cobblestone, something he would have eaten a whole lifetime ago. When he was still himself and not a fragment of a broken person.

He brought the spoon to his mouth and tried to eat it, but as soon as the fragrance touched his nostrils and he felt the warm liquid on his lips, he recoiled and dipped the spoon back into the tea. No, it was too fresh. Everything. Everything about existing felt like so much of a chore right now and the last thing he wanted was to be remembered of a life that wasn’t worth living.

He tried the tea, and when he drank it, it tasted like hot water. His lips curled in disgust and he poured the rest into his gullet.

There was someone out there who still cared for him, someone who wouldn’t want to see him turned into nothing but skin and bones, because this was the longest he had gone without something to eat and he could feel his shoulder blades through his shirts. He gripped his side with his large hand, able to thumb down the rungs of his ribs like a cursed instrument.

It wasn’t normal. But then, no one was expecting him to be normal after everything he had gone through.

Having emptied his tea, Eleven set it on the bedside table and looked around his room again. With nothing else to do, he decided to lay down again. Maybe daydream. Or manage rest for the first time in what felt like a fucking year.

Eleven closed his eyes, but the pang of hunger still wrung his gullet and made him clutch at his skin.

He could get through this. He could get through anything.He would survive. He’d already survived Mordegon before. When the World Tree had been destroyed.

And it was still standing now. Even if Calasmos was around, he could deal with that, he could handle that. He could make everything okay again.

He could…

Eleven sniffled and reached up, but his face still felt dry. He kicked the wall in front of him and grasped his hair in his hands, tugging at it. He’d really fucked up now. What would mum think, seeing him like this?

She was probably worrying heaven and back about him right now. Eleven sighed and closed his eyes, still mulling over that thought when he heard a voice at the door again, whispering to have a word or two with him.

Eleven cast aside his groaning to respond with a tired “come in,” his voice dry and cracked after who knows how long with no use.

Day 5: I’ve got Red in my Ledger

CW:Death, murder, blood

Summary: Eleven returns to the World Tree after going back in time.

Word count: 698

Eleven was panting by the time he arrived at the top of the World Tree. He staggered along Her boughs, reaching for any branch he could grasp to steady himself as he ran.

Air wasn’t coming cleanly through his lungs. It kept hitching as his side burned, but he pushed onward nonetheless, reaching for the Sword of Shadows on his back and yanking it out.

He heard voices and could see Yggdrasil’s heart in the distance now.

The others weren’t paying attention to Eleven as he approached, Eleven’s eyes shifting from Sylv, Jade, Veronica, and Serena to a copy of himselfstanding next to Erik and Rab.

But Eleven could not bring himself to worry about that now. His first priority was Mordegon, who hadn’t revealed himself yet, remaining in Carnelian’s body. Jasper was saying something; Eleven didn’t know what, zoning in only on “Carnelian.”

Eleven readied his weapon and darted forward, sinking it into Carnelian’s back.

A gasp wrenched from Carnelian’s throat and Jade screamed. Jasper reacted immediately, drawing his sword and advancing on Eleven. Jasper swung his sword and Eleven stumbled, landing on his back with a sore “humpf!”

The air squeezed out of Eleven’s lungs and he gasped, drawing his sword up just as Jasper swung down at him again.

“The Darkspawn!” Rab shouted.

Eleven bit his tongue and kicked Jasper off him, giving himself just enough time to roll into a crouch with his sword raised above him.

“Father!” Jade shouted.

No, no, no, Eleven thought. He hadn’t killed Carnelian! He’d killed Mordegon!

“What is the meaning of this?”

Hendrik’s voice joined the fray as Eleven once again shoved Jasper away from him. Carnelian lay in a crumpled heap on the floor of the World Tree, and El approached with the Sword of Light grasped in his hand. Eleven’s old team gestured to him, and Hendrik approached, grasping his wrist.

Hendrik yanked Eleven to his feet. “So you have shown your face, Darkspawn!”

“We must kill him immediately, before he can cause more trouble,” Jasper said.

“Usually I’m not one to agree with the enemy, but I think they have a point this time,” Erik said.

He said it so matter-of-factly. With his hand on his hip and a nonplussed look on his face.

“But to kill him makes us no better than the enemy,” Hendrik said. “We must bring him into custody. Certainly he knows something of the Lord of Shadows.”

“Yes, quite,” Jasper added.

Eleven’s mouth worked but no words came out.

He’d been panicked. He hadn’t been thinking. He was tired. Nothing about the act had been calculated, he will admit that, but to so readily cast him aside as a Darkspawn? He would defend himself if he thought he could, but he was already rendered too shocked for words.

“Jade…” Carnelian’s withered voice muttered, and heads turned toward him.

He was grasping his side, which was stained red. Jade was kneeling in front of her father, grasping his hand in hers. Her other hand settled over Carnelian’s chest.

“Father… your heartbeat…”

“Worry not for me,” Carnelian whispered. “I be not long this world, but for now, for this one moment…”

“Hendrik, Rab, is there anything you can do?” Jade asked.

Rab shook his head. He was also at the king’s side, though his hands had stopped healing. “No. It was a fatal hit.”

“Jade,” Carnelian began, drawing her attention to him again. “Before I go, please… promise me.”

“Anything,” Jade said.

“Do not let the Darkspawn get away again,” Carnelian said.

“Of course,” Jade said. “I will neverforgive him for what he’s done to you!”

Jade glanced to Eleven as she said it, and the spark of hatredin her eyes made Eleven’s very core shutter. Even worse than that, however, was Carnelian.

There was the glint of something in those eyes. Something devious that lurked just beneath the surface, managing to sneak past under the guise of a dying father. “Carnelian” smiled, too, when the others weren’t looking, a taunt Eleven had to assume was for him.

Eleven was absolutely certain Mordegon was hiding in a dead man’s body.

A body which hehad dealt the killing blow.

Day 4: Trust Fall

Summary: Eleven wakes up from a bad dream and finds someone sitting at his side.

Word count:952

Eleven is falling.

He’s falling freely through space, cutting through the darkness blanketing him from every side, every angle, as he stretches his arms and breathes.

When will he hit the ground? He doesn’t know. He sinks deeper into the jaws of sticky, clammy black, dissolving into it, closing his eyes, his skin tingling…

Like the snap of a finger, Eleven jolts up in bed and clutches his pulsing head. His fingers slip into his short hair and he sighs.

“Hey,” Erik’s voice mutters.

Eleven turns and there is Erik, sitting with his fingers folded in his lap, smiling slightly. Sadly.

“Hi,” Eleven says.

“Having trouble sleeping?” Erik asks.

“Mmhmm,” Eleven hums as his fingers dig into his eye sockets and rub the sleep from his closed eyes.

Erik doesn’t say anything. Eleven keeps his eyes shut, even after he’s finished rubbing them, shifting to a sitting position. His fingers flatten against his temple and he stares into his lap.

He can’t remember the last time he’s had a solid night’s rest. Maybe there was a night or two in the Last Bastion, in a place that no longer exists. But he can’t count even one night since then.

Realizing that Erik is watching him sleep comforts Eleven. Like he should have kept sleeping knowing there was someone else there to protect him, someone Eleven can trust.Someone who can lift the profuse weight off his shoulders.

This weight… Eleven sniffs. It’s unreal how unexpectedly relieving it is to not be carrying it alone anymore.

Before, when they’d been traveling, they’d take shifts staying awake throughout the night. Two people were always up, sitting by the fire. Eleven had spent a lot of time with Erik that way — with Erik having his back, the duo facing off against the night together.

Just like then, Erik leans forward and taps El on the forearm.

“You feeling alright?” Erik asks.

“No.”

Eleven feels the sting of his nose and clears his throat. Still not used to this whole “feeling emotions” thing, Eleven finds it embarrassing when he starts to cry. Hot, wet tears roll down his cheeks and he covers his face, curling into himself.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Erik’s voice breaks through Eleven’s thornbush of emotions, and Eleven turns to him, dropping his head into Erik’s lap.

Erik touches the top of Eleven’s head, pushing him deeper into his panicked cries, which shake his body.

It’s Eleven’s nature to be quiet, but that’s not so easy when he’s pouring his soul out, which stains the front of Erik’s tunic. By the time Eleven pulls away, he’s collected himself a little more, nudging Erik’s hands away.

“El, is everything okay?” Erik whispers.

Erik places a hand on Eleven’s knee and Eleven jerks away. Don’t call me that. Don’t touch me like that.

“Could you please not touch me? I just… I-I don’t feel very well.”

“Alright.”

Eleven slowly breathes in and out, dropping his shoulders and closing his eyes as Erik retracts his hands. Eleven’s heart races, everything on high alert as if expecting an ambush despite it being the middle of a peaceful night.

“You okay? You need anything?” Erik asks. He’s so close, yet so far away, with a rift of experiences between them.

El shakes his head. “No, I’ll be alright. I just… it’s been really difficult adjusting to not being in almost literal hell.”

“Mmhm.”

“The only time anyone ever touched me was to hurt me. Even you, when you saw me, drew your knife.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Eleven says. “It’s just… how can I ever reasonably expect to be treated with kindness again? I can’t. Kindness is much more fleeting than the scars on my body. I can’t forgetwhere those came from when…”

A tear slides down Eleven’s cheek and he clears his throat, but it feels like he’s choking, choking on the noxious thoughts that had settled over him ever since that first day back in time. It feels like a part of him had been broken, a part he is incapable of repairing because that would mean taking the whole person apart and starting over again.

“No one’s expecting you to forget, but I hope you can forgive us. Or at least me,” Erik says, the hint of a smirk returning.

Eleven lightly snorts. “Yeah, I’m— I’ll try.”

“You’re not there yet, huh?” Erik asks.

“It’s not for want of trying.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there.”

“Mm.”

“Well,” Erik starts, heaving a sigh, as he stands from his char. “I didn’t mean to creep on you while you slept. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Please stay,” Eleven says. He presses his hand behind his own neck, calming his nerves. “I can’t sleep otherwise.”

“You trust me that much?” Erik asks.

Eleven nods.

“Wow, uh…” Erik rubs the back of his head. “I guess I’m just a little surprised. After everything you’ve gone through, I assumed you wouldn’t.”

Eleven didn’t trust the other Erik at all. But this one? This was the one Eleven had gone back in time a second time for, possibly subjecting himself to once again being torn apart atom by atom. This was the Erik whom Eleven had been waiting to hug as soon as they’d reunited again.

“I trust you more than anything,” Eleven says. “So please.”

He leans over and pats the recently vacated seat for emphasis. Erik smiles and drops into it again.

“Alright, pal. I’ll be right here, so you go on and rest,” Erik says.

Eleven slides down into bed, resting his head on his pillow. He curls a hand under his cheek and smiles.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Erik responds.

Day 3: Sticks and Stones may Break my Bones But…

CW: scars, death mention

Summary: Eleven’s changed a lot since his mother last saw him.

Word count: 483

Cobblestone was not how Eleven remembered it.

It was gorgeous — there were flowers around every corner, long grass blew in the wind, the people smiled as they passed rivers, the noise of which unlocked something deep inside of Eleven, a memory from a time that felt so long ago that he reeled from the thought of it.

Eleven remembered him and Chalky, sitting on one of those bridges, casting their fishing lines into the water below them. He imagined himself doing that now, but the image was soured immediately by thinking of the other him. The him with longer hair, an innocent smile, a less-scarred body… a boy that no longer existed. A boy whose life had been torn from him too soon.

It still made Eleven sick to think of himself in such a way, and he paced ahead to keep himself from hurling into the water.

“Eleven! Do wait up, won’t you?” Serena called behind him.

He ignored her as he approached the door to his home and knocked.

A hand gripped his shoulder and he yanked around. The fact that it was Erik softened Eleven’s glare, but Erik returned his look with one of his own distaste.

The door creaked open and Amber gasped.

“My baby! What happened to you?” She asked.

Eleven turned and saw heartbreak. He saw her thin, brown eyebrows bunched together on her face, her eyes darting to his eyes, presumably to the scar on his brow and cheek.

She stepped forward and Eleven backward as Hendrik said, “Be careful. That’s not your son.”

Someone shushed him — probably Sylvando — as Amber tutted.

“Nonsense! I know my boy when I see him!” She said.

Those words flooded over his skin like a cold wind. He shuttered, his nose stinging.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Mum asked.

Eleven shook his head and leaned forward, pulling her into a hug.

She felt so warm, like a large dumpling. It had been so long since he’d last hugged her like this, or anyone,really, that Eleven had almost forgotten what it felt like to be this close to another human. She felt like kindness,baked pies in the middle of winter, tucked-in blankets and gentle kisses on the forehead, a soft voice reassuring him she’d always be there to protect him, no matter what.

Eleven felt shame bubbling into the pit of his stomach. He’d expected connecting with her to make him feel something, but that empty pit persisted, the one that had sucked his emotions away.

There was a detached sense that he shouldbe crying, but he settled on wiping his dry eyes and pulling away, experiencing the sadness vicariously through Mum’s anguished expression. Her lower lip wobbled and she pulled her apron up to dab at her eyes.

“Your poor face… and your beautiful hair!” she anguished. “What happened to you?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Eleven muttered.

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 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.

Day 31: Prisoner

CW: possession, stabbing, blood, choking

Word count: 738

Summary: Mordegon visits Eleven in his jail cell.

Eleven never thought he would see the inside of a Heliodorian prison again.

But there he was, with his arms wrapped around his legs, which were drawn close to his chest. He trembled, and his bruised knees knocked together, the brown shirt and shorts they’d supplied him being little help to ward off the cold that nipped at his dirt-stained toes.

He ignored the discomfort as long as possible to focus on a simple question: How was he going to get out of here? The other Eleven already had the Sword of Light, but that was as good as useless if Mordegon could steal it right under his nose.

None of his friends had visited him yet, and he couldn’t beg the guards to let him go.

For all Eleven knew, the world could have already been turned into bedlam without him knowing. And that would be the worst fate of all.

Maybe he could dig a hole like Erik had. And when the guard entered his room to check it, El could defend himself. He’d knock the guard out, then steal his keys…

The door down the hall opened and Eleven straightened up. He leaned over, expecting to see another guard.

“Hmm… That was quite rude of you to kill my vessel like that, although I suppose it’s not the worst thing to ever happen. After all, it would appear someone unexpected has arrived to my side.”

The bucket head’s voice started out low and quiet, but shifted into something sharper, with a twinge of humor to it. The man who stopped in front of Eleven’s cell slowly morphed, from one of an armor-clad human to a taller figure with pointed ears and purple skin.

Mordegon’s eyes squinted and his thin, red lips stretched into a smirk.

Eleven shifted away from the bars, hands seeking something — anything — to defend against his adversary. His fingers came up with a bedroll and pebbles.

Mordegon chuckled and stepped forward, his shoe peeking out from beneath his robes. "Do you think a little strip of cloth is going to protect you?” Mordegon sneered.

He reached for Eleven’s blanket and snatched it out of his hands. Eleven jerked, stretching out his hand, a fireball shooting from his palm and catching fire on Mordegon’s torso.

Mordegon screamed and dropped the fabric, which petered into small flames on the ground. Eleven stood and cast the spell again, watching as it sparked on Mordegon’s head. He beat it out immediately and reached for Eleven, sliding through the bar to close around his throat.

Sharp nails dug into his skin and he choked as Mordegon stared into his eyes. Mordegon opened his eyes wider and grinned.

“Youwillobey me, you little rat,” Mordegon spat, saliva sticking to Eleven’s lower lip.

Eleven bit his lip and kicked Mordegon in the shin, wresting away from his grip. Mordegon doubled over, and Eleven punched him again. Eleven gasped sharply when he felt something hot and sharp at his side.

He tried to breathe, and again, the gasp came out raspy. His eyes darted down to the blade stuck in his waist.

"You really think I didn’t come prepared?” Mordegon asked.

He yanked the knife out and Eleven clutched the new wound, his heart raging in his chest. It was okay, he’d dealt with worse, he could— he could deal with…

He could feel the blood on his fingers. Mordegon shoved him against the wall, and he glared, kicking air.

“Be good,” Mordegon whispered.

His sharp fingernail pressed into Eleven’s forehead. Bright colors exploded in his eyes, and he staggered backward, gripping the brick walls behind him for purchase.

Mordegon’s energy seeped into him, and he felt full, too full. Sickingly so. Eleven dry heaved as he felt the other force attempting to take over his body. It was the worst migraine imaginable. Like his forehead was expanding, his body bloating to accommodate someone else.

Eleven collapsed to his knees, then onto all fours, as spit dribbled from the edge of his mouth and he stared at the stones beneath him.

Just as quickly as the feeling entered, it began to leave. Mordegon materialized in front of him with a sneer.

“An incomplete vessel… maybe you really are the Darkspawn,” Mordegon said. The grin returned. “Ah, but that is of no consequence. I only need you for a little while anyway, child.”

And then the force that had just overcome Eleven’s body came back twofold, and he lost consciousness, or more, it was ripped from him, as rapid as blowing out a tapering candle.