Rain World Time Traveler AU

by A_Random_Entity

Summary:

Survivor and Monk are thrown into different time periods after a portal opens under their feet and must now search for a way home. Meanwhile, a mysterious stranger has swallowed their misgivings and approached a distraught Gourmand with knowledge of the whereabouts of his missing children. Told through a collection of oneshots because ADHD is a bitch and won’t let me write anything longer than that.

Chapter 1: Another Chance at Wear

Arti plodded heavily towards her room, thick steel-toed work boots clunking on the cobbled stone floor. She paused outside Monk’s room, hearing a disturbance. That was odd. It was the middle of the night, Monk should be asleep by now! She knocked on the door softly. “Hey, kid? You alright in there?”
There was a squeak and a thump on the other side of the door, and Monk’s voice came to her ears, slightly muffled through the thick wood. “I-I’m fine! Don’t worry!”
“Are you sure?” Arti felt worry beginning to curl its cold tendrils down her spine. Monk sounded distressed, was there something dangerous in there?
“Yeah! I-I’m fine! Just rolled out of bed while I was asleep!”
Arti didn’t fully believe him, but she knew better than to push him. “Alright… Goodnight, then. Shout if you need anything.”
“Goodnight, Arti. See you in the morning.”
The next day, Arti assigned Monk to practice his note taking by examining the most recent piece of machinery she’d been commissioned to craft. While he worked, she doubled back and opened the door to his room. She felt a bit guilty for violating his privacy, but something had clearly been wrong last night, and she needed to make sure there wasn’t anything in there that could hurt him. Call her paranoid, but she had to be sure.
A short sweep of the room yielded nothing of note, and just as she was about to give up and leave, she spotted something poking out from under the closet door. She pulled it out to reveal…
“Oh.”
It was a skirt. One that had belonged to Arti’s daughter back when she was alive. It was a beautiful cyan color, and all the dust it must have collected in the closet had been lovingly brushed away. Arti smiled. It hurt, but it made her happy to know that these things she’d cast aside in grief were bringing a new child joy. She carefully folded the skirt back and put it back in its cabinet, then went to her office to write a note.
When Monk opened the closet that night, he saw the skirt he’d dropped on the floor carefully folded and sitting on top of a neat stack of other clothes, some of which were pulled from cabinets in the walls he’d never even known were there. Sitting on the top of the stack was a note.
Make sure to ask if you don’t know how to fold them, I’ll show you. -Arti
For a moment, he was too stunned to say anything. She wasn’t upset? Where he was from, boys weren’t supposed to wear skirts. Maybe it was different here? She knew he was a boy, so why wasn’t she mad? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arti’s shadow entering the room. He opened his mouth to speak, and heard his voice crack.
“Why?”
“Why what, kid?”
“Why is this okay with you?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? If it makes you happy, you should wear it.”
“But boys don’t wear skirts, it’s not right.”
“Does it feel nice to wear it?”
“…Yes.”
“Then it’s right. No one can tell you what’s okay or not okay for you to wear except you.”
Monk felt himself starting to cry, and hugged Arti tightly, burying his face in her chest. “Thank you.”
Arti stiffened for a moment, then then hugged him back. “No problem, kid.”

Chapter 2: Clouds

Summary:

Watcher has had clouds around them for years, but they’re not a big deal, right?

Or Watcher is sad, Hunter is worried, and Rivulet just wants to play Flappy Bird.

Cw for depression, self-deprecation, and prescribed drug use (Im getting this sad bastard some antidepressants)

Watcher said their goodbyes to Survivor and Enot and shut the door to their apartment. As soon as they heard the latch click, they leaned back against the door with a sigh of relief. They loved those two and all, but void they were exhausted. They swiped the implant in their wrist over their front keypad, locking the door, then trudged to their small kitchen and warmed up the last of the noodlefly soup Moon had had Riv bring the team last week.
They didn’t know why they felt this way all the time. For years now they’d just felt sort of… empty. It seemed irrational. After all, they were on top of the world. They loved their job, they were paid well, they had a close circle of friends, and two wonderful partners in Enot and Survivor. They had a stable living place, and didn’t want for anything. They had everything they could possibly hope for, so why did everything still feel so dull and empty? Why did this cloud of apathy never quite seem to go away? Why did they still dread going to sleep knowing they’d have to do it all again when they woke up? It simply made no sense, so they ignored it. But the longer they pushed the cloud aside, the bigger it got. Why wouldn’t it just leave? Watcher realized with a start they were crying, their tears making the already sodium-rich soup saltier. They scoffed, irritated with themself. They were a grown adult, they couldn’t be crying over nothing anymore. They finished their soup and put the empty bowl and spoon in the dishwasher before trudging off to bed. They were fine.
————
“Watcher, can I talk to you for a second?”
Feeling a tap on their shoulder, Watcher jumped, accidentally throwing the screwdriver they had been using across the room and nearly stabbing Survivor’s eye out. They cursed and yelled an apology to their partner, before turning to face their boss. “Yeah, Hunter? What do you need?”
“Come with me, please.”
Watcher got up, trying to ignore the spots in their vision. They were just a bit tired was all, nothing they couldn’t handle. They followed Hunter to her office, where their boss pressed one of the metal tentacles attached to her backpack to the keypad to reveal Rivulet already sitting in the room, playing a game of flappy vulture on her visor.
“Riv, we’re back, let’s get going.”
The vulture on Rivulet’s visor crashed into a wall, and the game over screen was displayed. The robot sighed disappointedly and replaced the game with a display of her eyes. “Man, I was really on a roll that time. Ah, well.”
“Riv, please take this seriously.” Hunter sighed. “Watcher, take a seat, please.”
Watcher sat across from Hunter, the head researcher’s desk between them. It was at times like these that Watcher was reminded of just how much Hunter towered over them. The small green neuron drone that always followed her pulsed softly but urgently behind her head and gave a little beep. She pushed it away with one of her tentacles. “Later, I have to talk to Watcher first.”
Watcher gulped. If Hunter was ignoring her drone, this was something serious. It was there at the insistence of Sig, the team’s benefactor and Hunter’s father, to remind Hunter to take her injections for her back problems every few hours, and she almost never ignored it.
“Watcher, are you doing okay?”
Watcher was taken aback. “Sorry?”
“Are you doing okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Why are you asking?”
“A scan of your vitals suggests that you haven’t slept in days.” Rivulet chimed in from the corner. Watcher jumped, having already forgotten she was there.
“You’ve looked tired and sluggish for a while now, and Survivor and Enot have told me you’ve been self-isolating more. I don’t want to pry, but I’m worried about you. We all are.”
“Hunter, I promise I’m fine.”
“Your brain disagrees.” Rivulet refuted. “Your dopamine and serotonin levels have been abnormally low for as long as I’ve known you, I just assumed you were already seeing someone for it.”
“What do you mean? I feel fine.” They could hear their protests getting weaker, knowing everyone could tell they were lying.
“Whether that’s true or not,” Hunter said gently. “I would really appreciate it if you would at least try talking to a professional about how you’ve been feeling. I would cover the cost for your visit, and if it doesn’t work out then I won’t bother you any more about it, okay?”
“But-”
“It’s not gonna hurt you to try, is it?” Rivulet pointed out.
“I guess not…”
————
Watcher stared at the neon orange bottle sitting in their hand with apprehension. The doctor had warned them that the little white pills inside wouldn’t make the feeling vanish, but they might make it less all-consuming. They sat on the edge of their bed, shook one pill out of the bottle, and stared at it, feeling sick.
It’ll be fine. Surv takes pills every day!
But that’s ADHD meds, not antidepressants.
I did the research, I’ll be fine. I just need to do it!
Taking a deep breath, Watcher stuffed the pill into their mouth and chugged the glass of water on their bedside table, then sat back with a sigh. They’d done it. They carefully resealed the bottle and put it away in its designated place in the bathroom before heading back to their room to finish getting ready for the day.
“Sooooo, how’d it go?” Enot asked when Watcher exited into the hallway outside their apartment where their partners waited to all walk to work together.
“Feel any different? I remember when I took my meds for the first time, it felt so weird!” Survivor added.
“Kind of? It’s definitely still there, but it almost feels like I’m watching it from the other side of a glass wall. You know, like in a zoo?”
“Huh, weird.” Enot’s eyes turned lidded. “I guess now we know you can swallow-”
Survivor made a strangled squawking noise, and Watcher shoved their boyfriend lightly in the shoulder, affectionately rolling their eyes. “Shut up.”
“You love me!”
“Yeah, I do.”
Watcher didn’t know where they were going next, but this, at least, was a good first step.

Notes:

Eclipse 404 my beloved. Also Hunter being the mentor figure I wish I had.
For future reference, any descriptions of medication symptoms I use in this are taken from personal experience, so it may not be completely accurate to the average person taking them.

Chapter 3: Escape

Summary:

An experiment goes wrong, and help is found.

Notes:

This chapter will be a lot darker than the ones before it, so watch out.
Cw for blood, nightmares, dissociation/dissociative amnesia, trauma, mentions of misgendering, and lack of self care. Saint and Gourmand are having a bad time.

The machine was rigged, the cameras were set, and everything was going according to plan.
“Are you ready?” Her face was clouded, like it always was now, face obscured behind a scribble of black. They nodded despite desperately trying to stop, to say no, to prevent what was about to happen. But they were just a spectator in their own body, there was nothing they could do now.
The lever was flicked, the room flashed, they screamed as the agony filled them, overflowing their physical form and exploding out in all directions. Their vision faded to white as their ears filled with ringing.
They came too to the feeling of blood running through their fur, clotting and sticking to their skin. They cracked their eyes open to a scribble of black obscuring what they knew was there just like always, then a blink and they were gone.
Their eyes snapped open to stare at the woven thatch roof of the house they were staying in. When even were they now? Early Iron Age, maybe? They didn’t remember. Early enough to have to go by ‘he’, at least. They sat up and slid out of bed, going to make something for them and their host to eat, only to see the man in the kitchen, already making breakfast. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, broad tan shoulders sagging in exhaustion. He looked up as his guest entered. “Ah, good morning, Saint! Did you sleep well? Please, sit down, it’ll be ready in a moment.”
“As well as can be expected, thank you.” They sat down at the table and accepted the plate of food their host offered them. “I wasn’t lying, you know.”
Their host stiffened. “I never said you were.”
“But you thought so. I know where they are, and I can take you there. I ask for nothing in return but a promise to believe me and to do everything I say until we’re on the other side. I’ve seen people get killed doing this, it’s a sight I hope never to see again.”
“And you’re sure you can find them?”
“More sure than anyone else in this time period can be.”
“Then I’ll do it. Just tell me what to do.”
The stranger stood from the table and beckoned their host to join them. “Well, then, Gourmand. Take my hand and do exactly what I say.”

Notes:

To clarify a bit more about what happened in Saint’s nightmare, they were reliving the moment they and Sliver of Straw tested using Saint’s body as a catalyst for their portal through time, but something went wrong and Sliver of Straw was killed and Saint gained the power to teleport themself through time. In a blind panic, they went back in time to get away from the scene of the crime. Their brain won’t let them remember Sliver of Straw’s face, or her corpse after she was killed.

Chapter 4: Virus

Summary:

Hunter reflects on the virus in her back. Cw for minor blood and needles.

Hunter shut the door to her apartment, sliding all four of the tentacles on her back into their corresponding security docs. Each one blinked and turned green, signifying that the door was locked. She heaved out a relieved sigh and shucked off her fake tentacle pack and dropped it on the floor, relishing in the feeling of cool air over the scratched metal where the cyborg appendages met the living flesh of her back.
The drone hovering around her head beeped, and Hunter sighed, pulling off her shirt and turning to reveal her bare back to the drone. She didn’t flinch when the needle entered right between her shoulder blades, but still hissed a little at the burning feeling of the antivirus it carried entering her bloodstream.
Hunter sighed, grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet. She understood that it had been necessary, and void knew the cost had been worth it, but she hated the virus in her back. The ache and stiffness she could never quite ignore, the way she had to wear that stupid backpack around all day, the fact that Sig was so guilty and was trying so hard to fix it, so Hunter couldn’t even be mad at him even though it was all his fault.
Hunter heard a crack and felt a sharp pain in her hands. She looked down to see that she’d broken the cup, tiny shards of glass embedding themselves in her palms. She sighed again, she’d been doing a lot of that these days, and picked the shards out with her tentacles before going to get bandages and a dustpan to clean up the mess.

Notes:

Hunter is having a bad time. Also rot stand-in babyyyyyy

Chapter 5: Focus

Summary:

Survivor has never been able to focus, they’ve always been told to try harder and pay attention, but they’ve just never been able to. Finally, they realize why.

Or: five times Survivor hasn’t known why their brain is like this, and one time they found out.

Notes:

Cw: unintentional misgendering, self-depreciation, strong language, prescribed drug use

This includes a pre and post diagnosis ADHD experience loosely based on my own, so Survivor will be insulted a lot by others and themself in the beginning of this. I wasn’t sure how to tag this but be warned. Also Surv is pre-transition at the start of this and will be referred to with he/him until about halfway through. Additionally, there will be discussions of symptoms of inattentive and hyperactive ADHD and autism. As I have all three, I may struggle to piece apart which is which.

“So I was thinking we should try and go collecting today, we’re running low on fruit and Dad said he wanted to make salad.”
Survivor and his brother walked down the path from their house and into the forest, presumably in search of fruit. Survivor really hoped Monk was right and Dad made them salad, he loved that stuff. It was early autumn, and the leaves were all changing colors. Looking up, he could count at least eight different-
“Survivor? Hello? You there?”
Survivor snapped back to reality when Monk waved his hand in front of his face. “Oh yeah, sorry, what did you say?”
“Nothing, it’s fine.”
“Monk…”
“I said it’s fine.”
Monk speedwalked out ahead of him, and Survivor groaned into his hands. He hated how he always seemed to zone out at the worst times. He missed instructions and frustrated his dad, he made Monk not feel listened to, he missed social cues and wound up looking like an idiot, and he was constantly getting sidetracked and left the most simple tasks unfinished. It was just so frustrating, why couldn’t he just focus like everyone else could?
—
“All right, grubs. Pay attention, because I won’t be repeating myself.”
Survivor made sure to lock his eyes on the schoolmaster. This was important, he had to make sure not to miss it-
“Any questions? Good. Now go.”
Oh, no.
“Class dismissed. Survivor, stay back.”
Survivor froze on his way to the door, turning back to the schoolmaster. “Yes, sir?”
“You’re failing.” He said bluntly.
“I- I know. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Why are you so incapable of following directions?”
“I… didn’t know what to do, sir.”
“For god’s sake, I told you! Why weren’t you paying attention, you stupid boy!”
“I-I was trying, sir-”
“I was trying, sir.” The schoolmaster mocked him. “Well, try harder if you don’t want to fail my class, understand? I don’t teach stupid or lazy boys.”
“…Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now get out.”
—
When he got home, Survivor was presented with a bowl of soup and his father Gourmand’s worried face. “Are you doing okay, Survivor? The schoolmaster said that you’re failing, is that true?”
“…yes.”
“You’re a brilliant kid, Surv. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know!” Survivor shouted, taking both his father and Monk, who was tending the soup nearby, by surprise. “I just can’t focus! I always get lost in my thoughts and miss things!”
“Hey, Surv.” Gourmand put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’re absolutely brilliant, I know you can do it if you just keep on trying.”
“I am trying! I am, I promise!”
“I know you’re trying, kiddo, but maybe you need to try a bit… more?”
“I… okay. I will, thanks Dad.”
Gourmand ruffled Survivor’s hair. “Attaboy. Now, eat your soup.”
“Yes, Dad.”
—
Survivor couldn’t stop staring at everything around him. huge towers unlike anything he’d ever seen scraped against the sky. The ground was hard like stone, but unnaturally smooth and perfect. There were bright lights and fragments of conversation everywhere, which were honestly giving him a headache. He squinted, flattening his ears, but refused to close his eyes and miss a single detail of the world around him.
“The lights are a bitch, huh?” Watcher said from next to him, hands in their jacket pockets, and what looked like two cups connected by a board clapped tight over their ears.
Survivor snorted, trying not to laugh. “What on earth are you wearing?”
“Noise-canceling headphones. They dull sound when I’m in a chaotic environment so I won’t get overloaded.”
“What’s that?”
“What?”
“Getting overloaded?”
“Oh, it’s when there’s too much sensory input in an environment, in my case typically places with bright lights and lots of noise, and my brain can’t process it all. It often results in headaches and an increase in anxiety.”
“Wait, that’s not normal?”
“No, supposedly not. I was surprised too when I found out.” Watcher paused for a moment, looking contemplative. “Actually,” They pulled their pack from their shoulders and rooted through it for a moment before producing a second copy of the headphones. “You want to try them? They won’t help with the lights, but they’ll make the sound more bearable.”
“Uh… alright.” Survivor took the headphones and hesitantly slipped them on. Immediately, the noise around him dampened and the pain in his head grew less intense, the edges of his vision clearing from a fuzziness he hadn’t even registered. “It feels so much better!”
The corner of Watcher’s mouth quirked up. “I thought it might. If you want to keep those ones, you can. I have almost a dozen other pairs at home.”
“Really? That’s okay with you?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks, Watcher.”
—
“Hey, Survivor. I know you really don’t have anything like this where you’re from, so do you want me to walk you through it?” Survivor looked up to see their boss, Hunter, hovering over them while they fiddled with a unit.
“Actually, I did some research on my own, so I should be able to handle it.” Survivor flicked up their work goggles and leaned back in their chair, resting their feet on the table. Immediately upon their feet making contact, a rush of satisfaction flowed through them and they instantly felt less trapped. “It’s quite interesting, actually. I read an article on cyberviruses and how they can supposedly invade organic hosts in some cases. It’s always under very rare and specific circumstances, but it can happen! How cool is that?”
Hunter smiled, but it was that same false, forced smile that people always gave them when they talked for too long. “I know, Sig and I did a lot of research about it.”
“Woah, really? Cool!” Survivor enthused, then cringed. “Sorry, I’m not sure why I was explaining all this stuff to you. You obviously know way more than me.”
Hunter smiled again, more genuine this time. “That’s alright, I’m just glad that you’re interested in this kind of thing.”
“Yeah, for sure.” Survivor looked away. They knew Hunter was just trying to make them feel better like their dad always did, and while they appreciated it, they wished she’d just cut to the point and tell them to pay more attention and not be so stupid.
“Hey, Surv?”
“Hm?”
“I mean it, you know. I like hearing about things that interest you. I have my own reasons for being a bit touchy on the concept of cyberviruses, but I’m genuinely glad that you trust me enough to tell me about your interests.”
“Really?” Survivor stared at her in mixed shock and disbelief. “Why? I never shut up.”
“That’s okay! Talking about what you’ve learned clearly makes you happy, and that makes me happy. I don’t think talking a lot is necessarily a bad thing, as long as you’re willing to make an effort to listen back.”
Survivor winced. “I’ve never been much good at listening.”
“But do you try?”
“Yes! I promise I do!”
“Then that’s what matters. It’s alright to be bad at it, as long as you try.”
“You really think so?”
“Yeah! Definitely.”
“Thanks, Hunter.”
“No problem, Surv. Now, what is it you’ve done with this module?”
—
“Hey, Surv, do you have ADHD?”
“What’s an ADHD?”
Enot blinked, looking taken aback. The two of them plus Watcher had stayed behind today to close up the workshop, and as usual their boyfriend was being less than helpful, opting to flirt instead. “And here I was just gonna do a shitty pickup line. Babe, has no one explained ADHD to you yet?”
“Uhh… no?”
“ADHD, or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, is a neurological disorder that results in reduced effectiveness of hormone transmitters in the brain.” Watcher rattled off from the next shelf over. “It has three subtypes: inattentive, hyperactive, and combined. It is often characterized by symptoms such as difficulty with focus and/or sitting still, intense and often brief hyperfixation on a topic, executive dysfunction, hyperfocus on tasks, stimming, increased sensory sensitivity, forgetting to perform bodily maintenance such as eating and sleeping, and being completely fucking incapable of sitting normally in a chair.” They glared at Enot, though without any real venom in it. Their boyfriend raised his hands in mock surrender. “Guilty.”
“I don’t know what half of those words mean.” Survivor admitted.
“That’s alright, I can explain. I’m not an expert by any means, but I did a lot of research back before I got my autism diagnosis.” Watcher sat Survivor down in a chair and sat in front of them, steepling their fingers. “What do you have questions about?“
“Well, for starters, what’s a neurological disorder?”
“It means that your brain is wired differently from normal in some capacity, which causes certain parts and attributes to behave differently. For example, I have autism. In my brain that means that among other symptoms I grow restless without schedule or order, I have increased sensory sensitivity, and I tend not to be particularly emotive outside of specific circles. Enot has ADHD himself, and he has issues with sitting still; controlling his volume; and a short attention span. Sounds right?” Watcher asked Enot, who nodded and gave a thumbs up from where he sat on top of a nearby worktable playing with a bit of scrap metal.
“You said it’s about wiring? But that doesn’t sound like my problem. I can focus, I just need to try a bit harder.”
“Sure you can, and I can show more emotion and hide my discomfort in loud spaces, and Enot can keep still and control his volume. It’s possible, sure, sometimes it’s necessary, but that doesn’t make it easy. The difference in wiring doesn’t make it impossible to hide those differences, it just makes it harder.”
“Well, the stuff Enot struggles with don’t all sound like my problems, so how could we have the same thing?”
“Well, that’s where the different types of ADHD come into play. Enot has hyperactive ADHD, so he mostly exhibits more physical symptoms, such as fidgeting and poor volume control. People with inattentive ADHD tend to exhibit more mental symptoms, such as short attention span, tendency to zone out or hyperfocus, and difficulty reading social cues due to not paying as close attention to subtle changes in behavior. People with combined ADHD have an equal mix of both types of symptoms.”
“What’s hyperfocus?”
“It’s a bit like getting tunnel vision. People who go into hyperfocus typically have a high start-up cost for tasks, but as soon as they get into a rhythm it takes just as much energy to get them out of a task as it did to get them into it. This means that simple tasks can be incredibly difficult, but normally long and difficult tasks are often far easier.”
“It’s not just being lazy?”
“No, it’s just the start cost being higher than normal.”
“And the zoning out?”
“Happens much more often and more intensely than it does for others.”
“But how can you be sure that’s the case for me?”
“I can’t. You should talk to a doctor about it though if you're curious. I can help you get an appointment with the place that diagnosed me if you want.”
“But what if I don’t have it? What if I’m just being lazy?”
“Then we can go from there.” Enot hopped down from the counter and held out his arms to offer Survivor a hug, which they happily took. Soon, Watcher came and joined them.
————
Survivor stared at the little piece of paper in their hand that looked so fragile, but meant so much.
“How do you feel?” Enot asked, voice uncharacteristically gentle.
“Honestly… I thought I would feel more different.”
“How so?”
“Well, I’m still just the same me as before. I’m really not sure what to feel.”
“That’s fine. I mean, I sure like you a whole lot.”
Survivor chuckled, a bit flustered. “Thanks, Enot.” “Anytime, gorgeous.” “A-Anyway, the doctor told me I should try talking to someone about meds. I’m a little scared to do that, though. What if they change me?”
“In the end, it’s your choice. I chose not to take meds for myself because I don’t like the way they make me feel, but everyone reacts to them different.”
“I think I need some time to think about it.”
“That’s fine, remember there’s no rush.”
The first thing Survivor noticed when they took Adderall for the first time was that nothing seemed to have changed. Then about half an hour later, they felt it. Their focus sharpened, the recess of their mind growing less cavernous and easy to get lost in. Their thoughts felt more controlled, less spontaneous. It was unlike anything they’d experienced before, and all they could feel was… angry.
This was the way it was supposed to be? This was how easy it was for everyone else? Everyone who ever told them to ‘just focus’ could actually just do it? Survivor had had to try so hard when it was this easy the whole time? Riotous rage filled their body, and they almost threw the pill bottle against the wall in the intensity of it all.
“There was never anything wrong with me! I suffered through all that bullshit for nothing!” They paced the room, unsure what to do with the years of pent up frustration finally coming out, after being told all their life that they weren’t doing good enough.
“It was never about me. It was never my fault. It was rigged against me from the start, and I didn’t even know it!” They kicked the wall, hard. It hurt their foot, but they didn’t care. They stormed out of their apartment and down the hall to Enot’s room, knocking aggressively on the door.
“Hey, Surv. What’s going-”
“You mean to tell me that it was this goddamn simple the whole fucking time?”
Enot stared at them for a moment, looking extremely taken aback. “What was this simple?”
“Focusing! It was so easy for everyone else the whole time, but I still felt like shit about it for twenty years?”
Enot blinked, then nodded, understanding what was going on. “Yeah, that’s normal the first time. Come inside. Do you want me to call Watcher?”
“Not yet. I want some time to just be angry first before logic.”
“That makes sense. Want coffee?”
“No, thanks. It doesn’t really do anything for me. I guess now we know why.”
Enot chuckled. “Guess so.” A few months ago, Survivor would have wondered why Enot wasn’t flirting with them right now, but after watching him immediately drop the act to help Watcher through a shutdown when the three of them were out on their day off, Survivor had learned that Enot didn’t just flirt because he felt like it. Sure, he did it for attention, that much was absolutely true. But he knew when it was time to stop and focus on someone else, and that was part of what Survivor loved about him.
“It sucks, doesn’t it.” Enot sighed, uncharacteristically serious as a pained grimace crossed his face. “Knowing that all those horrible things people said to you over and over till you believed them, were all just a lie. Knowing you spent years hating yourself for something you can’t control.”
“It was all for nothing.”
“No, it wasn’t for nothing. It taught you better than anything else ever could that there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect the way you are, even if you’re a bit different.” Survivor walked over to him and offered a hug. Enot accepted, and the two stood there for a while until they heard a knock at the door.
“Enot? You in there? Have you seen Surv yet this morning? It’s time to go, or we’ll be late!”
Survivor felt the last of their rage melt away into joy as the reality sank in.
There’s nothing wrong with me.

Notes:

I may have infodumped through Watcher a bit there oops. Hope you enjoyed my weird brain vomit. Enot centric chapter on its way!

Chapter 6: Night Call

Summary:

Enot calls his sister, and they reflect on their past.

Notes:

Inv and Enot are separate twin siblings in this universe, also there will be a bit of lore in this as well.
Cw: mentioned sex and implied recreational drug use, strong language, past character death, implied past child abuse

Enot locked his apartment door, warmed up a cup of his favorite Miku ramen, and sat down in his gaming chair with the rainbow lights embedded in the sides to call his sister.
“Hey, Inv.”
His twin picked up immediately. From the amount of background noise he could pick up, he guessed she was still out. “Enot, it’s been a while! How are your partners doing?”
“Surv and Watcher are alright. Pots and Pans still the same?”
“Yup, one’s still growing god knows what in her basement garden, and the other still thinks she’s bitchless.”
“Haven’t you three literally fucked?”
“Yep, couple times. Unfortunately, stupidly oblivious is my type.”
Enot slurped his ramen. “It do be like that sometimes.”
“The hell are you eating over there?”
“Miku ramen.”
“Cringe ass grown man.”
“Like you don’t eat it too.”
Inv’s laugh crackled through the phone. “Whatever. How come you decided to call your dear old sister again tonight of all nights?”
Enot’s face fell. “Rough day, need the distraction.”
“Hold up, lemme get outside real quick.” After a moment the noise dimmed. “Remembering day?”
“Remembering day.”
“Ugh, fuck that. Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“That’s cool.”
They fell into silence for a long while after that.
Enot sighed. “It’s not fair.”
“I know it’s not.”
“She was such a shitty person. She hurt us, she hurt Saint even if they didn’t realize it, then she had to just up and die! The hell kind of closure is that? And where the hell is Saint? Where did they go? I get they didn’t want to face the police and shit cause everyone was gonna assume they killed her, and if they did I don’t blame them, but they could have at least told us the truth! They know we wouldn’t rat them out!”
“My guess is they just panicked. Just ran as fast as they could and never came back.”
“But where? The investigation was so thorough. How did they slip through the cracks?”
“Who knows? The way I look at it, it’s been what, fifteen years now? If they were going to come back, they would have by now. No point in getting your hopes up at this point.”
“I guess.”
“Hey, you came here for a distraction, and I’d be a real shitty sister if I didn’t give you one.”
“True, true. Got any tea since last time?”
“Oh, buckle up and get the kettle, bestie, because it’s hot!”
Enot could hear Inv’s smug grin through the screen. He smiled. They’d been through a lot, but they still had each other.

Notes:

Pots and Pans are based on a Tumblr post I saw once. Those aren’t their real names that’s just what Enot calls them as a joke.

It pisses me off that every fic on this site with Inv/Enot focuses on either the meme side or the ‘went through hell and back’ side like why can’t I have both? Yeah, they’re traumatized, but they’re still silly.

I might do an interlude chapter with more Inv if people want to see that, she’s not a particularly important character but I love writing her so I’d be happy to do more. Spearmaster centric chapter is on it’s way!

Chapter 7: Quota

Summary:

Spearmaster gives Artificer bad news. Cw for strong language.

Notes:

Spearmaster introduction! Plus a bit of Arti and Monk being parent and child as a treat.

Spearmaster moved like a ghost through the tall grass that surrounded Artificer’s workshop, flowing silk sleeves never making contact with the stalks due to the sheer height of the messenger. A silk bandana and a battered chest plate covered it’s mouth, and the horrific scarring around it’s chest and throat from where something had removed it’s vocal cords long ago, a wide brimmed hat shaded it’s eyes, but left it’s long, pointed ears free. It’s thick tail swayed gently as it walked, thousands of pointed needles resting flat and calm. It’s whole body was bony, unnaturally thin and holding almost no fat, wiry muscle barely covered by paper thin skin and short lilac fur.
Artificer saw Spearmaster coming, of course. It’d been working with her for years, even dating her for a while, though that hadn’t lasted. She had her goggles on today, red tinted glass in bronze rims over her functional eye, and simply a dark brown cloth patch over the other. She wore her typical sleeveless work shirt and thick leather gloves over a chunky work belt and loose pants covered in pockets. Her battleaxe was slung over her shoulder and her tail was swishing back and forth irritably, the kink in the tip from a badly healed break especially pronounced as sparks hissed and fizzled out of it. “Spearmaster. You’re back.”
It nodded, then blinked in shock when it saw a flicker of movement behind the stocky slugcat. A yellow slugpup, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with a cyan bandanna around his neck over a matching skirt and black vest. He clung to Arti’s waist in a way Spearmaster hadn’t seen anyone do since her pups died. His voice was tense, clearly distrustful of the new arrival.
“Arti? Who’s that?”
Artificer sighed. “This is Spearmaster. It comes around here sometimes to trade and exchange messages.”
“It?”
“It refused to tell me if it was a boy or a girl when we first met, so I asked what else I should call it if it wouldn’t tell me. It still wouldn’t answer, so I called it ‘it’ out of frustration and it stuck. Spearmaster doesn’t mind, and it’s none of my business, so we left it at that.”
Spearmaster waved, unsure of the best course of action. Most of it’s work with others went smoothest when it’s clients were actively afraid of it, and now, when the opposite was true, it was beginning to realize how intimidating it must look to a little kid who’d never seen someone like it before.
To his credit, the kid took this quite well.“Oh. Okay?”
“What are you here for this time?” Artificer asked, subtly twirling her axe in her hands. Spearmaster pulled out a scroll and passed it to her. She unrolled it and read quickly. “Oh, fuck off. No way.”
Spearmaster shrugged, hoping she would get the hint. Not my fault, don’t shoot the messenger.
“No damn way is this happening.” Artificer snarled, the tips of her fur beginning to spark and ignite in her rage. “No way in hell can I reach that kind of quota. And for that much? I’ve got a kid to feed!”
Spearmaster wrote it’s reply on a corner of the scroll. King’s orders, Arti. I know it’s unfair, but there’s not much to be done.
“Absolute horseshit!” She shouted. The boy behind her flinched, and her posture and voice immediately softened. “Sorry for shouting, Monk. I think we may have to work overtime for the next couple of weeks.”
I’ll help for as long as I can be spared.
“Thanks, Spears. I really appreciate it.” Artificer sighed, before turning back to her workshop. “May as well get to work now, we’ve got a lot to do.”

Notes:

Spearmaster is completely mute in this universe and since sign language doesn’t exist yet they just write down what they want to say.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of RWTTAU Extended Universe