lostengineerfanfiction

[lostengineerfanfiction]

I’ll be moving over fics here over to my new AO3 account

[lostengineerfanfiction]

Timestopped!Wirt Chapter three

I kept forgetting to upload this.

Wirt felt so very tired. He was on something that wasn’t the couch he was on previously, but he really didn’t care. He felt like he had run the mile at school, all desperate to get a good time so he wouldn’t have to spend afternoons running around the track field. Which he kinda had. The cemetery certainly wasn’t close to his house and it was hot out. In hindsight, he should have taken off his cape, but he was just so darned excited.

He could hear distant voices. As he became more aware of his surroundings he realized he was in the hospital. He wondered, for a brief moment, what he could possibly be in the hospital for, before remembering his tiredness and realized he must have overexerted himself on the way here.

“Seems to be nothing more than a little heat exhaustion and shock. He should be fine and won’t need any medicine, but remember to keep him hydrated. We would release him today, but what you said was concerning.” A stern female voice was saying in the other room.

Wirt figured the voice was the doctor and decided that he wasn’t gonna go through the trouble of staying in the weird sleep wakey state he was in. He closed his eyes and dozed off just as his brother entered his room.

Greg started to speak, “So, you’re my brother.” An awkward silence filled the room despite the only other living being was sleeping like the dead. Greg thought about the facts he was just told. He now understood Wirt’s panic earlier. Coming back from the past or dead or whatever Wirt was, was something that happened in the comic. Or a really great book. Now that he thought about it, it reminded him of that one Artemis Fowl book.

He shook his head. Speculating about what pop culture reference Wirt might be making wasn’t helping him. ‘Back to the facts I know.’ Ok, so brother pops up. He’s been assumed dead for ten years. He’s 25, but judging by his mom’s reaction he still looks the same as he did when he was 15.

Greg fiddles with a photo in his hands. After his mom gave him the bare minimum information about Wirt, she handed him a photo before going back to sign papers so they could run tests on Wirt. Looking at the photo of Wirt, Greg is sure that none of the family photos back at home contain Wirt. Did his mother and father wipe all the existence of his brother as a coping mechanism?

Greg sat in his chair for a good while until his mom and the doctor came back. The doctor came over to Wirt and wiped a swab on the inside of Wirt’s cheeks.

“What’s that for?” Greg asked curiously.

“She’s taking a DNA sample. To tell if it is really him.” Greg’s mom spoke, and the doctor added in the estimation of how long the test would take. Which was about 4 days if anyone was curious.

The doctor told them that there wasn’t much they could do right now, so Greg and his mom gathered their things and left the hospital. It was a silent drive for the most part besides some awkward small talk such as the new billboard ad, how bad the potholes were on the road, and such. There was a tension in the air that Greg didn’t want to break.

They arrived home. Greg started on his usual chore, which was to make sure the table was ready to eat on. He stayed quiet and so did his mother. The tension in the air was so thick, and Greg really wanted to break it. ‘Wait until Dad gets home,' he thought.

A short, agonizing bit later, Greg's Dad arrives home.

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[lostengineerfanfiction]

Pumpkin faced

This was based on one of my inktober drawings. Sorry if this got a little confusing, I didn’t really edit this one. @pabstite @foofybunnji @blrwere @pingo1387 @invadeur @axelotled @clcloudsh @chibigikochin @mogadeer @enby-phoenix @marshmallowace, you reblogged the artwork from @blockswingperry. If you don’t want to be @’d again for this kind of thing please tell me

“There has to be at least one person in this town with a phone,” muttered Wirt. He was tired, and he wanted to go home. He walked up to one of the doors and knocked. Nobody answered. He tried the door and found it unlocked. Which wasn’t that weird the more Wirt thought about it? Nothing much to steal from farm folk.

“Hello? Anybody in here? I just need to borrow a pho-” Wirt stopped dead in his tracks. A turkey (dead maybe?) laid across the table and really caught him off guard. “Um, I was just wondering if you had a phone I could borrow?” The turkey raised his head. They looked at each other in silence for a moment before Wirt felt awkward. “I’ll just go,” he said and closed the door. The turkey laid it’s head back down.

Okay, so he wasn’t expecting a turkey citizen. Did all the houses contain turkeys? Surely turkeys had no use for the pumpkin fields that were littered around the town. As he was thinking over the complications of turkeys and pumpkins, he did not notice a rock in the middle of the road. He tripped on his shoelace and smacked his head hard on the rock. And that was how the townsfolk found him. Lying on the ground and his head all bloody.

“Tell Enoch we got another one. He might be ready next month. A little late for the party, but the more the merrier.” A person, all dressed in pumpkins and corn husk, almost like the cornhusk doll Wirt himself made when he was little and living in the country, remarked.

The pumpkin’s companion agreed and went to alert Enoch of their soon to be newest citizen. Wirt was buried in the middle of one of the empty fields. The townsfolk worked quick to cover him with dirt. _______________________________________________________________________

Greg could not find his brother. He had wandered off to go find someone with a phone, but when checking a few houses he gave up. “Hey, Beatrice have you seen my brother?” Greg asked turning to the little bluebird. “Could you send a magic tiger to go find my brother? I haven’t used my wish yet.”

“For the last tim-” Beatrice was about to really scold the kid, but then thought better of it. “Hey, look kid! There’s a bunch of people going into that building! Let’s go check it out!” She sighed in relief when Greg agreed to go.

As they entered the barn the duet noticed a couple of things. One, the people were wearing pumpkins and dried cornhusks. Two, there seemed to be a festival going on. Three, no sign of Wirt. Greg went up to one and started asking questions. And that was how their night went. Stopping to dance or join in the festivities. Eventually, the head of the town realized they had crashed their party and accidentally smashed a few pumpkins.

The punishment for their wrongdoings was to finish shucking corn and cleaning up after the festivities in the barn. They did their work as all the pumpkin wearing citizens marched out to complete whatever last hurrah that would complete the festival.

“What do you think they’re doing out there? Do you think Wirt will hear the pumpkin people and come and find us? Wirt is a very good finder. He found our frog!” Greg rambled as he worked to Beatrice, who wasn’t doing much work at all. (In her defence shucking corn and picking up large objects with her little bird feet is a hard task.)

“I don’t know. Maybe. Your brother couldn’t have possibly wandered far, considering that he knows we’re here. Maybe,” Beatrice paused for a moment thinking of the horrible beast, her curse, and her own numerous siblings, “he’s looking for food? No not food, uh, I think he told me he heard a magic tiger around here.” Greg’s distrust of this answer was clear on his face, but he didn’t press on. _______________________________________________________________________

They stayed in the town, on Beatrice's request, with one of the pumpkin people. The couple they stayed with was Marget and James. They were lovely folk, but their slightly strange behaviour combined with Wirt’s disappearance, they were more than weary. What if...Wirt was still with them? Just not on the plane of the living. This thought borrowed into their heads.

Now that they thought about it, when they first got here didn’t the ground look disturbed? Just large enough a patch that it could possibly hold...a body. They both looked at each other with horror. They made plans to check the dirt out in the middle of the night, so as not to wake what could be pumpkin murders. _______________________________________________________________________

It was dark out. Greg and Beatrice slowly creeped out into the night, heads sharply turning at each sound. They made their way into the empty field, where the dirt laid disturbed, possibly because of the load it may now carry. Greg had grabbed a shovel earlier and now used it to take in shovelfuls of dirt and throwing it to the side. Beatrice kept watch, ready to take Greg and leave this place forever.

After some time, Greg’s shovel hit something. He hurriedly started to dig out the outline of the object. Slowly, the truth was revealed. Wirt’s body laid snuggly in his grave, surprisingly not as decomposed as it should be. His body was mostly whole, besides a huge patch of flesh that was missing from the left half of his face. His skeleton was visible just a few inches from the jaw and surrounded his eye. It almost looked intentional, like an obviously fake Halloween costume with gore, except his skin was a terrible white colour, with his lips tinged with blue.

They screeched, and they could hear the citizens of the town waking up and heading their way, but at the moment they were a bit occupied. Their screech of fear was involuntary and had awoken Wirt. Wirt’s body struggled, not completely dug up. “Wha-, WHAT THE ACTUAL FU-” Wirt’s body was cut off when the head of the town yelled in a bellowing voice, “WHO DISTURBS THE RESTING?” The three scrambled a bit, blurting out unintelligible answers and jumping and avoiding each other when Wirt tried to get out of the hole he was in and Greg and Beatrice dancing around his arms.

“I’ve seen you woken up our newest citizen, that wa-” Enoch was cut off by Greg’s high pitched, “OH GOSH YOU KILLED WIRT!”

“What? Oh, you mean the young lad? He fell and hit his head and died. We were merely doing a kind act when we got there and it was too late. A tad strange you were able to wake him up earlier than the ground would allow. Unless. Hmmm. Perhaps we were a little bit too hasty to let him join us.”

Enoch had bent his streamer-like arms in thought, the villagers muttering that it was strange Wirt was able to move around in his current state, and they didn’t check if he had stopped breathing had they?  

There was a brief moment of silence when, in a tiny voice, Wirt asked, “ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᶜᵉˀ” He had finally gotten out of the hole, looking a little worse for wear. His clothes were, of course, dirty, and his skin still that awful white and blue. The only difference was his confused expression.

“Er, it appears you were...too early.” Enoch, who usually held such authoritative command in his voice, sounds deeply ashamed. “It’s how things are run here. The dead are brought here to us, we bury them, and the dirt gives them a new life. But since you weren’t entirely dead when you were placed, I’m not exactly sure what you are. Undead perhaps?” _______________________________________________________________________ Wirt, Greg, and Beatrice had a whole lot of questions, but as soon as Enoch said Undead both Greg and Wirt whispered Zombies and promptly forgot their questions.

As they soon found out, Wirt was not unlike a zombie. The soil he was buried in had special properties. It decomposes and in return, a new life as a byproduct occurs. The pumpkins and other crops grown in the soil were special too, as they sustained the now living skeletons with more of the strange energy found in the soil and the evolved plant life.

Since Wirt wasn’t completely dead when he was placed, he died in the soil which screwed up the dirt’s properties. So instead of using his dead flesh as a means to rejuvenate him, it was stuck in a loop trying to eat away at his head wound and repatching it. It also reached into his still-beating heart, effectively chaining his life to the soil. Enoch had a remedy for this. As the trio started back up on their journey home, he gave Wirt (who had already taken up wearing a pumpkin head) a small sack of pumpkin seeds, so he could grow his own.

[lostengineerfanfiction]

Okay, this isn’t fanfiction, but yesterday I got this really good warmup prompt and I was really proud of the results. The prompt was a list of really odd objects and an element of mystery. I also thought I had to use junk drawers as a setting, but it turns out that was just the name of the kinda of warmup prompt??

Edward was having a hard time finding a shirt. This normally wouldn't be a problem, seeing as there were junk drawers full of old shirts Edward’s older brothers had left him. Usually. Last night Edward had hosted a party that got way out of hand and afterwards he had found all the shirts all sticky or covered in food, such as an old egg salad sandwich. He hadn’t served egg salad sandwiches at the party, and who would bring an egg salad sandwich with them to a party? Anyways he was going through the junk drawers in the very back of the junk room.

Edward had no idea what was in said drawers, but at least one of them would have a shirt.

A skydiving book, an old newspaper from 1971, piles of old paper littered the drawers. He had found a unicorn t-shirt and put it aside. ‘For when I’m desperate,’ he thought. Now he was finally down to the last drawer. He opened it to reveal...tea bags. Piles and piles of used tea bags. “What,” said Edward in a monotone voice. “HEY, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING WITH MY TEA BAG COLLECTION??” A short little man, a dwarf Edward presumed, popped out of the pile of old used tea bags. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize these were yours.”

“Well, at the very least you shouldn’t be so rude about opening it. At least knock.” The dwarf was starting to retreat into the drawer.

“I’ll do that next time sir, but might I ask why you have such a large tea bag collection?”

“I like the smell,” said the dwarf simply as he shut the drawer.

[lostengineerfanfiction]

So I’m trying to clean up my blog so I will slowly be moving this fanfiction to my fanfiction blog, @lostengineerfanfiction and the next chapters I post will be on that one. I will be doing the @ thing to those who like the chapter, just so you guys will be notified of the next chapter.

Greg had a dilemma on his hands. Who to call, who to call? Wasn’t there a saying that it’s better to scare a mouse than to let in a badger? So perhaps he should call an ambulance to his house to take care of the strangely dressed kid currently sleeping, or should he call it long sustained fainting? But didn’t an ambulance ride cost a ridiculous amount? He had overheard the neighbour’s daughter complaining that their trip to the E.R had cost them most of their paycheck.

Maybe he should call his mom. She was over at a friend’s house and could make her way down fast if the kid really did need medical attention. He doubted it though. After all, the kid had fainted out of shock and he hadn’t hit his head on the way down. Making up his mind he ran over to the kitchen’s phone and put in his mother’s friends house number. He twirled the cord around his finger. The phone clicked, alerting him that his mom was on.

“Hello, Charles residence speaking.” Oh! It was Mrs Charles that answered the phone. Usually when Mrs Charles had company over, one of her three kids would take the phone.

“Hello, Mrs Charles! How are you doing? This is Greg. Is my mother over there? I need to speak to her.” He paused. “It’s an emergency,” he added.

It was only a moment later until he heard his mother’s voice over the phone.

“Hello? Gregory? What’s the emergency, sweetie?” She sounded worried and was probably going over every single possible thing that could be an emergency as all mothers would when hearing the word emergency.

“So, I was doing my homework as usual and the doorbell rang. And I answered it and it was this kid. He was dressed really strange, kinda like a gnome, and he was asking where I was, but not really? I’m not sure what to think because when I said I was me he said something about it being impossible because I was supposed to be small? Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that the kid fainted and I have him on the couch. Should I call 911?” Greg finished in a rush. ‘Dangit I was rambling,’ he thought to himself.

“I’m coming over. Call 911 if he isn’t awake, raise his feet and put them on the arm of the couch, loosen any belts or clothing items that could be blocking blood flow. He sounds like he fainted out of shock, but he might have a heart condition.” There was a click and Greg was left there to stand in the kitchen. He had almost forgotten that his mother had taken first-aid recently and was briefly confused by how medical his mother sounded.

Greg ran over to the living room to check up on the boy. He was awake, but he looked like Greg after a bout of sickness. He must have a lazy eye, as one was drifted just a little bit, and his skin was quite a bit paler than just a few minutes ago.

“Just letting you know what I’m doing. I’m gonna check if anything is blocking any blood flow. Stuff like belts and such.” Only then did Greg bend down and start to pat down the kid, checking for watches, belts, or tight socks. (He wasn’t too sure about that last one, but the worst that could happen is cold feet.) The kid, which he really should learn his name because ‘the kid’ was getting tiring, only had suspenders which he took off promptly and his shoes. Greg’s mother had always said to say what you were about to do even if the person seems to be asleep because you can never know what they will remember.

The kid had given him a weak thumbs up and started to speak. “May I have some water?” The kid’s voice was scratchy and cracked at the end of his sentence. Greg said yes and went to go get him a glass of water from the kitchen. As he was pouring the cold water from the water pitcher, he heard his mother’s car pull up into the driveway. Greg gave the glass of water to the kid, who sat up and started to sip the water slowly and went over to open the door for his mother.  

“Where’s the boy? Is he awake? Are you okay?” Greg’s mother stumbled over her words. Greg told her that the boy was laying on the couch, yes he was awake, and yes he was okay. The two made their way into the living room. Greg’s mother gasped and rushed over to the kid.

“WIRT???” Greg felt left out of the loop. Who was Wirt?

@pasdesposts​ @santoshearing​ @zeayro​ @carryon143​ @silviasilver​ @whitneywonton​ @hoodies-and-horses​ @ghost-of-the-chance​ @rose-tea242 @thatonefangirlbehindyou @houseofbadgers @pailettehazel @curlycupgumweed @lowqualityfanficblog @lady-vicky-toria and two others tumblr wouldn’t let me @ , you guys liked the first chapter so I’m alerting you to the next chapter. If you don’t like that, just say so and I will stop.

[lostengineerfanfiction]

So a friend said I should try out the Timestopped!Wirt (which is what I’ll be tagging the next chapters of this fanfiction) and I know that I said I would be posting a coloured version of my drawing on the last post, but alas I seriously messed up the colours and I’m trying to see if I can put some decent colours on it in photoshop. Anyway read on, please leave a comment you’ll be giving me reason to continue. Allowed to re-blog.

The Beast lurked at the edges of the lantern’s light. “WELL, THEN, PERHAPS WE BETTER MAKE A DEAL.”

Wirt tilted his head, confused. “Deal?” he asked.

 “I CAN PUT HIS SPIRIT IN THE LANTERN. AS LONG AS THE FLAME STAYS LIT, HE WILL LIVE ON INSIDE.” He gestured to Greg. “TAKE ON THE TASK OF LANTERN BEARER…OR WATCH YOUR BROTHER PERISH. COME HERE.”

“Okay.”

“WIRT!”

As Wirt walked towards the Beast and was about to release his gentle grip on the lantern, a bell went off in his head. What had the tavern lady said? Along the lines of… “Wait. That’s dumb.”

“WHAT?” The beast roared.

“That’s dumb. I’m not just gonna wander around in the woods for the rest of my life.”

“I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU.” The Beast’s voice warped, the sound echoing through the trees.

 “You’re not trying to help me. You just have some weird obsession with keeping this lantern lit. It’s almost like YOUR soul is in this lantern.”

_______

   That night seemed like ages ago to Wirt. The woodsman had blown out the Beast’s soul and Wirt watched as Greg stepped back into the real world. Wirt had looked back at Beatrice and the Woodsman one last time and attempted to step back into the real world with Greg. He was all too surprised when he stepped out … back where he was.

  As Wirt soon found out, the soul paid for Greg. But for Wirt? He needed to find and destroy the Beast’s body. It took some time to pin down the slippery creature. He hoped that in the days or months he’s been gone Greg has been having fun.

   “An axe lodged deep in the body,

The soul lost long ago,

Shall cast this curse of mine,

A w a y, f a r  a w a y.”

The deed was done and the Woodsman’s axe fell out of his grasp. “Finally,” he whispered, “I can bid Beatrice farewell and go back home.”

Tears were wept by Beatrice as Wirt finally broke the Unknown’s veil, with the woodsman’s axe as a souvenir and happy thoughts about home.

__________

Wirt climbed over the garden wall taking note of the daylight. As he went through the cemetery and the numerous neighbourhoods he noticed odd things. Ms Daniels’ yard was overgrown, the playground had new additions to it, and unfamiliar buildings popped out at him.

Fearing the worst, he broke into a run, twisting and turning until he arrived at his address. He was confident before, but now he trembled fearing that time had taken his brother away.

________

Greg whistled a merry tune. He had only two more assignments to do for school before he could go and hang out with friends. He had just started high school and was excited. Well, he wasn’t at first. He really didn’t want to go to college after high school, but once he found out that there was such a thing as a college for music he pushed into his studies.

His train of thought was interrupted by the doorbell. “Coming!” Greg dropped his pencil and skipped over to the door. “Hello?”

In front of him was a boy just a little bit shorter than he was and in strange clothing. His clothes looked a little out of fashion with a cape and a dunce cap, but red that adorned his head. Hey, that rhymed!

“Um.. sorry to bother you. I must have gotten the wrong house. Do you know where a little boy named Gregory McCaughlin is?”

“Oh! That’s me! But I’m not little.” Greg paused to watch the boy’s reaction.

“What! No, no, no that can’t be possible. I can’t have- it’s just not possible.” The boy’s hands went up to his head gripping his face. “You weren’t even up to my knees last time,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

“What do you mean last time? I don’t think I’ve ever met y-” Greg’s statement was cut short when the boy’s eyes rolled back in his head and he pitched forward onto Greg.

[lostengineerfanfiction]

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