Even though I should be focusing on writing my Over the Garden Wall role swap au fic sequentially, my mind decided that it wanted to write one of the ending scenes first. I've gone through a couple different drafts of it already, but I thought I'd share one of the alternate endings I wrote before creating the Wayfinder, which drastically changed the way the fic goes. I ended up dropping it because it's very Wirtrice focused, to the point where both Wirt and Beatrice felt out of character. (I mean, both of them are fairly emotionally constipated and I don't think they'd act so enamored with each other right out the gate.) Still, I hope you'll enjoy it!
an alternate ending for the Over the Garden Wall role swap au (under the cut because it's almost 2k words XP)
Greg stroked his brotherâs head with a finger, and Wirt visibly relaxed. He let a long breath, then allowed Beatrice to take his wing in her hand.
âYou ready?â she asked Wirt, who had squeezed his eyes shut.
He nodded, and, with a wince, Beatrice opened and shut the scissors on his wing. Wirt let out a pained hiss that sounded muffled, likely for the benefit of his younger brother. The feathers floated to the ground.
Then, before she could wimp out, Beatrice snipped off the other one.
âPut him down,â Beatrice said, and Greg carefully set Wirt in the snow.
For a long, tense moment, nothing happened.Â
And then sparks of light arose from the ground and began swirling around Wirtâs little body, creating a vortex that hurt to look at as they skimmed across his feathers and settled into his skin. It was like watching a fairytale transformation, except Beatrice had to look away because the light was blinding.
When she could no longer see burning light behind her shut eyelids, Beatrice tentatively opened one eye, then the other. She blinked away the lingering spots in her vision until the clearing came back into view, bird-turned-boy standing in the middle of it with wide eyes and a stunned expression. He wiggled his fingers a few times, staring like heâd never seen fingers before, a grin slowly spreading across his face and replacing his confusion.
A blur of green and brown streaked past BeatriceâGreg, she realized, when the boy threw himself at his brother in an overzealous hug.
âWirt!â Greg exclaimed, his little arms circling Wirtâs waist and his little legs wrapping themselves around his knees. The brothers tumbled into the snow, Wirt letting out a loud oof as they hit the ground, too precariously balanced to keep them upright. Greg only hugged his brother tighter, though, unwilling to let go, and after a second, Wirt returned Gregâs hug just as tight, a watery-sounding laugh escaping him as tears Beatrice pretended not to see welled up in his eyes. Beatrice watched the brothersâ reunion with a bright smile, their joy contagious.
âAlright, Greg, let him up,â Beatrice finally said, walking over and pulling the little boy off his brother.Â
âBeatriceââ Greg whined, but Beatrice cut him off with a sharp glare before turning back to Wirt and extending a hand to him. He was still sprawled out in the snow, cheeks flushed bright red from the cold, eyes crinkled with laughter. They were soulful eyes, Beatrice thought, deep green and shimmering in the early dawn light. Observant eyes, ones that took in the world with thoughtfulness and turned those findings into inked words and lines of poetry.
Beatrice came back to herself when Wirt took her offered hand, slender fingers wrapping around her wrist as she hauled him to his feet. She felt silly for thinking all those things about his eyes, because since when did she care so much about things like that? Besides, this was Wirt she was talking about. Nerdy, awkward, stubborn Wirt, who made her want to scream with frustration at least ten times a day. Never mind that he was human now, giving her a nervous grin as he dusted the snow off his cape and placed hisâcone hat? That was a little weirdâcone hat back on his head.
âT-thanks, Beatrice,â Wirt said. She was surprised to hear the return of his stutter, which she hadnât heard since their second meeting, back when Wirt didnât know how to annoy her and hadnât been a menace.
Beatrice furrowed her brows. âFor what?â
Wirt gestured at himself, the fabric of his cape rustling slightly. âThis. ForâŚcutting my wings, making me human again.â
âOh. Uh, youâre welcome, bird brain,â Beatrice said, feeling more like herselfâand less stunned by his sudden kindnessâwhen she used the nickname and Wirt gave her a disapproving look.
Greg chose that moment to pop up beside Wirt and start chattering to him about everything he missed since theyâd seen each other last. Beatrice watched them talk back and forth, Wirt seeming to light up from the inside as he made little comments on his brotherâs story, a grin making its way onto his face that mirrored Gregâs own. She also happened to notice that Wirt seemed to be about her age, tall and wiryâthough Beatrice still had about two inches on him, a fact that gave her some satisfactionâwith messy brown hair that curled around his ears and shagged into his eyes, wavy and thick. It looked as soft as the down of a newborn chick, and for a moment Beatrice wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through it, maybe making Wirt blush in the processâŚ
Beatrice blinked, a blush spreading across her own face as she banished the thoughts far, far back into a darkened corner of her mind. No, no, no, she was not going to go there, she was not going to catch feelings for some silly boyâ
A hand landed on her shoulder, and she jumped, blue eyes meeting deep green as she struggled to take in Wirtâs face just inches from hers. She had to be bright red at this point, studying Wirtâs crinkled brows and concerned expression, taking in his angular face, his slightly crooked nose, his squinty eyes. There was a tiny freckle at the corner of his mouth, practically invisible from any other angle but this one, such a small detail, but one that made Beatrice blush even harder.
âWe need to get you out of the cold,â Wirt said. His warm breath puffed against her skin, and a small part of Beatrice thought about how easy it would be to lean forward just a little more and press her lips against his. What would it feel like? What would it taste like?
âWhy?â Beatrice replied instead, her voice barely above a strangled whisper.
He lifted a hand to feel her face, fingers soft against her skin. âYouâre bright red, probably from being out in this weather so long.â He leaned back and hunched his shoulders in that anxiously cute way of his. âIâŚI can take you back to my house?â
âYeah!â Greg agreed, taking Wirtâs hand and pulling him further away from Beatrice. âTo our house, to our house, to our house we go!â And for a moment, going with Wirt and Greg to their house was a tempting idea. She could meet their parents, maybe eat some food, warm up from the cold...
"I can't," Beatrice said, interrupting Greg's song and turning Wirt's grin into a confused frown. "I...I have to get home. My family's probably worried sick."
Wirt nodded slowly. "You're right, I'm sorry. I wasn't even thinkingâof course you want to get home right away."
Greg hugged Beatrice around her legs, staring up at her with pleading eyes. "But I don't want you to go. Please stay, Beatrice, please, please?"
"Greg," Wirt said warningly.
Beatrice put a hand on Greg's shoulder. "I'm sorry, bud. But, hey, maybe you could escort me to the Wall?"
The little boy's face lit right up, and he eagerly took Beatrice's hand, pulling her forward. She gave Greg a fond smile as Wirt followed beside them, silent and with an air of melancholy. Still, he mustered up a smile for Beatrice's sake when she turned to make sure he was okay.
Boy, was it going to be hard to say goodbye.






















