this time i'll give you guys fluff
fundy waits back at l'manburg, handling his father's duties
in a pouring and daft weather, someone knocks on his door
i figured that since i kept on doing dream team chapters i'd start going off in other directions
so enjoy some father-son fluff in recovery from the other chapter :)
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The tipper tappering indicated the breezing pours of the clouds in the sky. As the night twinkled, the light in Fundy's remained hidden. Where was his father? Gone for a week, no letter present, nowhere to be found, why had he felt abandoned? It was like waiting for your father to come back after either losing or winning a war, hopefully back in one whole piece and alive. That seemed far stretched, since the Dream SMP was filled with many bizarre creatures or humans- things that lurked everywhere.
Fundy let out a sneeze, one of his ears twitching at the aftermath. Sniffling, the fox-human felt his eyelids droop. After writing, signing, reporting and reading all of the mail his father had been sent, it was time for the boy to treat himself to something.
Exhaustion filling in him, nonetheless he dragged his feet towards the kitchen. The room was illuminated by a orange-ish, yellow-ish hue, a warm feeling colour. Calming odours- one that reminded Fundy of his father- took flight in the air. The brunette yawned with his arms stretching into the air. Satisfying pops occurred, feeling his joints unravel from the stiff position he'd been locked in for practically the whole day. He was sure to salute- mentally- to his father once he came back about the uncomfortable stances he'd have to go through just to monitor one small nation.
Fundy poured tap water into the kettle. Flicking the switch, the water inside the glass instantly formed small bubbles that descended to the top. The kettle let out a gas-like sound. Fundy grudgingly walked over to the other side of the counter, going to his tippy toes and trying to reach the cabinet. Of course, he was too short.
The flaws of having an obnoxiously tall dad- or being obnoxiously small for your age- was that no matter what, the smaller would always go through the difficulties of trying to fulfill everyday tasks.
Such as getting a teabag from the stored cabinet that held all sorts of flavours and fumes. Fundy puffed out his cheeks, turning around and eyeing the stool that he hated the most. It creaked and bent whenever stood on, but all of the time he'd never fall. Nothing could go wrong at this point.
As the boy waited for the water to finish boiling, he placed his bandaged fingers over the stool's hems and scooted it over to the counter, near the tea cabinet. He stopped, examining the position. It was where it needed to be. Good.
Fundy heeled a leg up, foot reaching for landing onto the stool. He tested the balance. It was extremely wobbly. The legs did a little tap dance almost everytime weight had been placed onto the seat of the stool.
The fox only rolled his eyes, placing his other foot onto the stool. It wobbled worryingly for a second, but stopped and regained balance and composure. Like it would never fall again.
Fundy nodded to himself, rubbing at his eyes before looking at the differen-
Tip. Tip. Tiiip!
Fundy's brain alerted him, yet his reflexes paused and he let himself freeze. The stool tipped. After realising what was happening, the reflexes instantly kicked in. Instead of placing a foot down to stabilise himself from the fall, his feet twisted against another and made a knot, causing him to tip over himself and fall.
The fox shrieked, preparing for impact.
As soon as the painful thud emitted through the room, he heard a big knock on his door. With one fluffy ear perked up in confusion, he let his face contort into one of pain as he rubbed at his sore bottom. Limping, the fox got up and hopped to the door.
He grabbed a sword in the meantime.
Expecting to see Tommy or Niki, or anyone else, he rubbed his eyes sleepily as the door clicked open. It let out a squeak and he waited for a response.
"So.." Fundy trailed on, now retracting his motions of rubbing his eyes. He opened a slightly red eye and saw a blurry version of a tall, drenched man, with a beanie and long curly-
Long, curly hair.
Fundy's eyes practically sparkled as they widened with realisation. The fox's back shivered with excitement, feeling tingles of joy and excitement and confusion and glee all at once, washing over him in waves.
He rubbed his eyes again, making his blurry vision clearer. Was he not dreaming?
Of course he wasn't. His-
"Dad!" his tone of voice lifted, with his arms throwing out at his father before him. He was met with an assuring chuckle. The younger boy felt hands ruffle through his hair, then calmly stroke it. Strands of knotted hair untangled as the scarred hands of Wilbur performed caring fatherly acts to his son's hair. Fundy felt the drenched coats and scarves soak through his pyjamas- the fact that Wilbur was in this clothing for how long concerned him much more than his $500 favourite pyjamas getting soaked and dirtied.
Fundy felt Wilbur's hand. It was cold.
"Come inside," he gestured, dragging the older in. Wilbur smiled as the cuff of his sleeve was forwarded into the warm home, his body following after.
The groan of the teapot came to a stop, a satisfying click indicating that the water was ready. Fundy grabbed two fitting mugs and poured the liquid into the cup. Grabbing herbs from a cabinet, he sprinkled flavour atop the water and added cold water for a more moderate temperature.
Wilbur watched his son work. He didn't care about the coldness at the pads of his fingertips, or the droplets that danced onto his frost-like skin from his overgrown, wet hair. Knowing that his son was within loving and safe arms- under a safe roof- was enough for him.
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Mugs were served and clothes were changed. No longer having to stand around in damp clothes, Wilbur was accompanied by cushion-like clothes. Fundy sat there comfortably, legs crossed on the velvet couch as he used his sleeves to protect his hands from getting burnt by the mug. The brit had no problem with this, though. After recovering from weeks worth of coldness, he definitely needed the accompaniment of warmth.
Both boys now sat on the table, snow flakes fluttering by at the window sill. Wilbur closed the blind and let the orange hues envelope the two figures in the room, happily sipping their herb teas. Minty bitter, and lemon-like cinnamon. It was an odd mixture at firsthand, but because of the fortune of L'Manburg, you only had what you could work with.
Father and son first disliked minty bitty tea or lemon with cinnamon. But- growing up with it, wasn't so bad?
"D'you like minty bitty, Bur?" Fundy asked. The father and son relationship between the two didn't have the requirement of calling eachother 'dad' or 'son'.
The brunette paused, licking his lips and savouring the taste that lingered at the tip of his tongue. He swallowed.
A warm smile formed at his lips.
"It's wonderful, Dy."
The fire clackles and pops. Two figures cuddling together, now cold mugs sitting on the coffeetable at front as one fox-like boy is slept snug atop of a humanly father.
Although they weren't connected by blood, that would never determine their past and how they grew to pick eachother up as a family.
Father and son- not by blood, but by heart.
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YESSSSSS I KNOW THAT 'HERB TEA' OR WHATEVER IS JUST TEA BUT THINK ABOUT IT LOGICALLY- I'm tired it's 2:44 AM bye guys gonna work on another chapter yeah HA
I've been dead but that's okay we bounce back every once in a while B)
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mcyt oneshots!
Fanfic(lower case intended, however i will use capitals and all that jazz in my actual writing.) heyhey! i've been getting into the minecraft community and stuff for around 4 months, so i decided i'd get a bit creative with myself. i will explain everythi...
