DSMP AU Oneshots (angst and comfort)

Fundy and Yogurt (Partial AU)

Them finding each other :) (also made this cause I can't seem to find oneshots of them?)

**TW// mention(s) of murder, descriptions of death, blood, some gore, also fundy's depressed and thinks back to his past and all so I'll leave that in here as a t.w. thing even if some might not see that as anything big

First Person POV: Fundy POV

Bit angsty, bit comfort, mostly getting by :')

***(Fundy's 19 here not sure what the lore is behind his age though so I'm working with this, and the background behind him getting Yogurt isn't 'lore' based that I know of?)***

WORD COUNT: 1376

Wil was gone. The president of our country was gone. My father...was gone.

I'd watched it happen from the blown-up ground down below. Caught up amidst the fighting of Doom's Day, and cried as my Grandfather killed my dad. I didn't know who to trust after that. Did Phil hate his son that much? Was it true my father was the cause of...too much havoc which couldn't be amended any other way? Leaving my Granddad no choice but to run that blade through him? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Out of the people who used to mean the world to me, Niki and my uncle Tommy were the only ones I'd told about leaving. They'd originally begged me to stay, but...they could see that was falling on deaf ears. My home was gone for what felt like the hundredth time, and everything was different, and now I couldn't even trust my own family anymore.

Regardless, I made sure to move out somewhere far away. Maybe the reason I settled where I did had something to do with the winter chill and Spruce trees that I'd come to view as homely. I'd considered moving somewhere near a lake to feel close to my mum, but it didn't seem right. I mean, why would I want a connection with the women who my dad said left us behind to carry on exploring and being 'free spirited'? My breath was foggy as I began building my house. It was tough work for one little fox-hybrid, but I would get through it. It was the Soot-Salmon way! Building from the ground up on your own. I mean, sure...dad had his brother and his friends and I had no one...but I'd be fine! I'd be... I'd be just fine.

A sharp chill carried through the forest and ruffled up my fur, causing me to shiver. I dug around my rucksack and hauled out my heavy L'manburg jacket. The pink tones weren't as distinct as they once had been against the faded blues, yellows and whites. Truth be told, the jacket itself was rather grubby. I think the last time it had been washed was a week before That Day which ended my father. Since then, it held dirt, burns and flecks of blood. Still, it was as heavy and warm as always so it was good to keep around. My choice had nothing to do with sentimental reasons. Nope. Just... Just practicality! Yeah! Just for practical reasons only.

The jacket was a tad restrictive as I chopped down the last of the wood for a door and fences, when I heard snarling, desperate yelping, then whimpering. I almost passed it off as the creaking and rustling of trees, when it seemed to grow more desperate. I couldn't ignore it any further, so I decided to investigate.

It didn't take me long to locate the source. A snow-white fox lay on the ground - staining the white surface red. Feeding on it, was a large wolf. My instincts to protect my kind kicked in.

"Hey!" I shouted, feeling both numb and brave. "Leave it alone! Go bother something else!" I whipped out my bow and drew back my arrow, before firing a warning shot besides the beast. It growled venomously - barring its bloody fangs - before rushing off.

Kneeling down beside the creature, I tried to console it. "Oh my god, it'll be alright, are you ok?" I hated that I never learnt how to communicate with this part of me. My father only saw my fox side as something cute, and at other times helpful, but never let me explore it further. Tommy told me a long while ago in front of the campfire, that I'd been born squeaking and communicating as a fox, which Wil quickly tried to stamp out of me so I'd only speak English. I think out of a great deal of things he'd done - not all of them, of course - it was one thing I'd never forgive him for even trying to help me rediscover.

I quickly shook the selfish thoughts out of my mind, and instead focused on calming down the fox: stroking it and pressing one of Wil's old beanies he'd given me against its chest. That's when I saw something tiny crawl out of its hiding place tucked behind the fallen animal, and move around to the adult foxes face. It was its child, now nuzzling at its parent's snout.

I didn't register my own tears until it was too late to fight them off. Oh well, I may as well mourn since there was no one else around.

The child curled up into the dying foxes neck to get as close to them as possible. Beneath my hand, still pressed to its chest, the slowing beat of the foxes heart told me one thing: this was about to end.

"Hey, little one." I used my cleaner hand to hesitantly stroke at the kids fur. It made a startled noise before allowing me to continue. "I don't... I'd feel a lot better - as I'm sure your parent would, too - if you weren't here to see their final moments. You can have one last cuddle, but I gotta get you out of here, champ."

I gave them a minute or so longer before I could tell the adult was struggling to keep their eyes open. I took that as a sign to leave.

"Come on, let's go sweetie." I scooped up the whimpering bundle of white fur and held it close to my chest - tucked into my jacket near my own heart-beat. I'd heard that it gives both kids and animals a sense of comfort, so I did just that.

The beanie could be left behind. It served its purpose as long as possible, and I could never wear that again. No matter the value it once held.

"I gotta try naming you, champ," I said, wanting a distraction. "Hm, 'Snowy' is too cliche, and the name of one of the toys Wil made me. 'Winter' sounds too 'Bo-Ho,' as I'm sure Uncle Tommy would agree. Well, what else is white? Clouds? Daisy's? No, no. God, I'm so bad at this. Vanilla yogurt? Oh! How about just 'Yogurt'?" The little fox was content, nuzzled into me, and didn't give a sign of liking any of the names. Still, 'Yogurt' just felt right. With a wistful smile, I murmured, "Yogurt it is. Well, Yogurt we're close now to your new home. I'll take good care of you."

The snow crunched beneath the boots Wil had specially handcrafted to suit my fox feet. They were as good as I could have hoped for from someone who had no clue what to do for me. I guess he tried his best, but I'd never say he was the best. Nothing even close to it.

The poor guy shivered in my grasp.

"We're almost there, bud. Look! There's my- our place!"

The door still needed to be constructed. No matter how much it pained to do so to someone of my kind, I found some rope and tied the cub to the fence just outside while I quickly put the finishing touches to the house. The sun was nearly setting by the time two beds and the rest of my furniture were arranged to feel more like home. I gave a satisfied sigh as I admired my work. Sure, it was shabby and probably far from up-to-code BUT it was mine, and I'd done it all by myself. I allowed myself to feel proud. Maybe even dad would have been proud of me.

I longed for his large, worn hand to ruffle up my fur, and call me his 'little champion', before he came in for a hug-

No. He'd stopped doing that a long time ago. A while before his death.

What was I doing to myself?

The whimpering of the little fox was a better thing to focus on now anyway. "Coming, my little champion!" I caught myself saying, rushing to pick him up and bring him inside the warm house with me. It all hurt but...maybe I'd do this whole 'father' thing better than him. Yeah. There was hope yet.

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