#as Fundy gets a little older he realizes that he’s actually being watched when outside the walls

[lime1991]

"so... are you going to follow me home?"

[chaolie]

Forgotten

With how much he's been ignored by all the people he cares about, Fundy sometimes wondered if they'd even notice if he was gone. If things would be any different if all of them just suddenly forgot him... Would they feel like something's missing, or would they go on with their lives? Would anyone miss him?

Now, he finds himself stranded at the beginning of the prime path with no memory of getting there, and soon after he starts to wander through it, he can already tell that something's wrong. Why is everyone ignoring him, as if he didn't exist?

Words: 3.9k

Characters: Fundy, 5up, Dream, Eret, others

Warnings: horror elements, very slight body horror

In the end, there are some explanations for a couple of things I really want to mention but they’d spoil the ending.

When Fundy opens his eyes, he has no idea where he is. He looks around, confused, he doesn’t remember coming here… nor does he remember what was he doing before. He finally realizes that he’s in the middle of the prime path, the end near Bad’s and Skeppy’s mansion, but the confusion doesn’t leave. He looks down at his hands, trying to remember what the hell is he doing out here, but for some reason, they feel wrong. He quickly looks away from them, and without a second thought, he starts to walk. It just feels like the right thing to do.

After a while of walking, he reaches the bench with the jukebox and hears Tommy’s laughter coming from his little house in the hill. He follows the path’s turn towards L’Manburg and looks into the small building, seeing Tommy and Tubbo inside. The two are playfighting and they both seem so peaceful… Fundy doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen the two of them so happy. Still, he hopes to get some answers from them. They’d surely know what he was doing out here, they always know what’s going on.

“Tommy? Tubbo?” he calls out. They ignore him. “Hey!” he adds louder, approaching the two. “Tommy! Tubbo! Listen to me!” he yells, standing right by them.

He still gets no reply from them. Growing slightly annoyed, he reaches out to grab one of them and get their attention. Just as he does so, Tubbo jumps away from Tommy, holding something… blurry. Fundy grows more confused, it’s clearly something and he can see everything else, but this thing is just? Impossible to perceive? Yet the younger two seem to see it quite clearly.

“Hey, get back here!” Tommy yells, running towards Tubbo.

“You wish!” the other boy screams, running outside.

Tommy follows him and runs right past Fundy. In fact, so closely that the fox was surprised that he didn’t feel Tommy pushing past him. Still, he has to get some answers, so he follows the two. They seem to run towards L’Manburg, but by the time Fundy leaves Tommy’s house, they’re barely visible in the tunnel leading towards it. Has it really been that long?

“Hey, wait up!” he calls after them, running the same way.

Instead of seeing them again, as he enters the tunnel he notices Philza and Ghostbur coming into it from the other side. Good, at least they weren’t too caught up in playing that they could answer him. No longer feeling in rush, he walks towards them and waves them a hello.

“Hey! Tommy and Tubbo seem really energetic today, don’t they? Is something special happening?” he says, trying to casually start a conversation with the older two.

“Thank you so much for the help, Phil!” Ghostbur says with a bright smile, just as if he didn’t hear his son’s voice.

“No worries, mate. In just a moment, we’ll get Friend out of there,” Philza answers him, ignoring Fundy as well. Or maybe they just didn’t hear him at first?

“What are we doing, again?” Fundy asks, stopping in the middle of the crossing so that they couldn’t miss him.

“I can’t wait to see Friend again!” Ghostbur hums instead of answering him. Growing impatient, Fundy sighs.

“Dad. I need help too, you know?” he admits. Wilbur would never ignore him after being referred to as ‘dad’, after all.

“What happened to his first lead, anyway?” Phil asks as they pass right by Fundy, just barely missing him. For a moment, he stays in his place, crossing his arms and angrily staring at the ground. What the hell is that?

“Oh, I lost it… I wanted him to run free for a moment and I put it on the floor but it just disappeared some…” Ghostbur’s voice fades as he speaks, but surely they didn’t get too far for Fundy to hear them. Yet as he turns, they’re suddenly just… gone.

“Okay, what the hell?” he mutters angrily, following their direction and expecting them to be hidden behind a corner. They aren’t. 

Just as he was about to go after Tommy and Tubbo again, he notices another familiar person walking down the prime path in the same direction he was originally headed in. It was Niki this time. Brushing away the fact that he didn’t see her over there before, he rushes after her, not intending to take his eyes off of her this time. What the hell was this joke?

“Niki!” he calls after her. She doesn’t even flinch. Being ignored by a 5th person in a row was making him anxious rather than annoyed at this point. “Niki, this is not funny anymore!” he hisses, grabbing her hand.

He feels his heart drop as his hand literally passes through her. He doesn’t even feel it. Just as if she wasn’t really there, as if she was an illusion. Either that, or he was. This leaves him frozen and staring at his own hand as she walks away, cheerful as ever. When he eventually looks back up, she was already at the bottom of the wooden stairs and taking a turn towards the parking lot to the left.

“Niki?!” he calls after her, running down to follow her. He must’ve seen this wrong, there is no way he passed through her. “Niki, come back!” he yells frantically, taking the same turn as her and seeing her hugging Puffy in front of the Pizza place. “...Niki?” he asks once more, his voice growing quiet as he watches the two enter the building.

He shakes his head and steps back onto the prime path. This couldn’t be real. What happened? Was he a ghost or something? Is that why his memory seemed faulty, just like Ghostbur’s? But why were they all so happy if that was true? And why didn’t his dad see him? He was a ghost as well, wasn’t he? 

Fundy covers his eyes and tries to take deep breaths. He didn’t feel dead. That couldn’t be it, right? Surely he’d know if he died… didn’t he have two lives left, too? How could he lose them at the same time? This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening… Then, another idea appeared in his head. What if he was actually sitting in a boat somewhere far away, and this was just that weird astral projection thing that happens sometimes? People usually can’t see or hear him when that happens.

“Oh, of course!” he sighs in relief. And even chuckles at how panicked he felt moments ago. Of course this was it. He really needs to take a break and relax soon, how could he be so much on edge that he’d immediately assume that he’s dead? “Alright, let’s get over with this,” he mutters.

He closes his eyes and does a little bow, usually enough to break him out from the boat illusion. Still, he doesn’t feel his surroundings change. As he feels anxiety crawling up his throat anew, he tries to keep a smile and tries again. And again. And again. He opens his eyes and he’s still on the prime path right next to Targay. He shakes his head. Something must be broken, this isn’t real. He quickly turns and walks forward. When he’s a projection, he can’t die. Can’t drown. And there is some water near the prime path in that direction, he’s sure of that.

As soon as he reaches it, he jumps in without a second thought. Not even trying to hold his breath, he allows himself to float down and then relaxes at the bottom of the water. He has nothing to worry about, after all, he’s just proving what he already knows. Suddenly, there’s a burning sensation in his throat and he’s choking. His eyes open wide as he desperately tries to get to the surface. He can barely reach it before most of his life slips out from him, and once he does, he can’t help but gasp and cough. He almost tears up at the sensation of air filling his lungs once again as he crawls out from the water and gets back to the prime path.

“...What…. the… hell?!” he gasps to himself, resting his face on the wood from the path prime for a moment. He’s not a projection? This is real? Is he dead already, or did he just almost die by drowning?

Slowly, he raises himself to his feet and takes off his jacket and hat. They’re both soaking wet, as is the rest of his clothes, but he can afford to shake those two around to make them less wet. Once he puts them back on and looks around to examine his surroundings once again, he suddenly notices someone on the part of the prime path he just jumped from. Sitting on the edge of it, with their legs dangling over the ledge and above the water, is Ranboo. When the hell did he get here?

“Ranboo?” Fundy asks, taking a couple of steps forward. The half-enderman doesn’t react to his name being called. “Oh, of course,” he mutters quietly.

But then, he realizes that unlike everyone else, his friend is not headed anywhere, he’s just sitting there and looking into the water. This meant he had all the time in the world to try and get Ranboo to notice him. He approaches him and starts his attempts. He tries tapping Ranboo’s shoulder, but his finger passes right through it. He tries to wave his hand in front of Ranboo’s eyes, but it doesn’t seem to work either. He tries to punch Ranboo’s shoulder, but it just leaves him with his hand literally inside of it, a rather distressing sight. He tries to run into him at full speed in a desperate attempt to get any reaction out of him, but he once again passes through him instead.

“Ranboo!” he snaps, going back and waving his arms around in a last desperate attempt to get his attention. “What is he even looking at?” he mutters, looking down into the water himself.

He’s met with his own reflection. His, and Ranboo’s, of course. While his friend seems to be fixated on his own, the fox decides to look himself over as well. Is he really that much soaked? It’s just as if he was melting… He grabs one of his sleeves and pulls it down, trying to see how far it’d stretch when wet. His breath seems to disappear as he watches it go on and on. He lets it go and turns his gaze away from his sleeve, his eyes must be fooling him. Still, he continues to look at the reflection. He goes on to brush his soaked hair from his face, but his hand freezes in the middle of doing so. Is it just him, or is his head stretching? In panic, he grabs it from two different sides and tries to push it back to normal. Surely it’s doing that because his fur is wet, right? As he watches the part of his head his skull should be keeping sturdy be squished effortlessly by his own hands, he jumps back.

“What the hell?!” he gasps, feeling around his face… It feels normal? He slowly steps forward again, glancing down. Before he could even process what he saw down there, he’s already backed up again. It was somehow worse. “I- I’m out of here!” he mutters, turning away from Ranboo and running away. He doesn’t feel like trying to get his attention anymore.

He stops only once he’s far from the water, stops to catch his breath, and tries to shake the image of a melted and disfigured version of himself out of his mind. It’s hard to forget it, though, it was so clear and… and felt so real! He looks down at his hands again, and they still feel wrong. He’s not sure why, though, they aren’t melted or anything… And they seem normal enough. He does his best to calm his breath and rubs his eyes, hoping to forget what just happened fast. 

Once he finally manages to calm himself enough to look back, Ranboo is still staring at his own reflection in the water. Fundy just shakes his head and continues his way forward. There’s nothing in the world that could make him go back there and risk seeing his twisted reflection again. After taking just a couple of steps forward, he stops once again.

“...What the hell?” he mutters, looking around. He’s suddenly standing in front of the bridge leading to the Community House. Wasn’t he, like, a couple of minutes away from it just moments ago? He turns around to see himself so far from where he just was that he can’t see Ranboo anymore. Did he blackout? Did he teleport? What was that?!

He shakes his head and continues forward. He doesn’t want to question anything anymore, it’s too distressing, too confusing, too anxiety-inducing, and just… too much. He notices his reflection in the water under the bridge for a second, but he quickly turns away. He already knows better than trying to see it again. He just looks down at the wood under his feet and rushes forward.

The door to the Community House is open. He’s hesitant to step inside, though. He can hear someone speaking inside and he can see a couple of people through the windows, and he’s not sure if he’s able to handle being invisible to them as well. When he eventually steps forward with a little hope somewhere at the bottom of his heart, it’s immediately crushed by Sapnap walking right through him. The man is pacing around while talking with George, Dream, Quackity, and Karl. He has no idea what the conversation is about, and he doesn’t feel the need to figure that out. All he knows is that they don’t see him either.

“Oh, of curse…” he mutters, disappointed. He sadly looks around the building, watching all those people he once knew… even if he wasn’t great friends with some of them, he’d give anything for them to notice him. 

Suddenly, he looks at Dream and he could swear that the white mask on the man’s face is turned directly at him. They lock eyes, or at least it looks like they do, and Fundy hesitantly points at himself. Dream slowly tilts his head, keeping his eyes on him, and suddenly Fundy feels overjoyed as relief washes over him. Dream sees him.

“Dream!” he gasps, rushing forward and trying to grab the man’s shoulders. His hands go right through them. “...Dream?” he mutters. Did he just imagine this? Did Dream not notice him? Just then, the masked man chuckles quietly. It sounds far more menacing than it should.

“Guys, I’ll be right back, I need to… do something,” he says and without a further explanation turns to leave. As some of his friends try to ask questions and some just accept his statement and wave him goodbye, Fundy anxiously follows him.

“Dream! Dream! Please, Dream! You see me, right?!” he cries after him as he follows him towards Eret’s castle. His begs get louder and more desperate with each step, but Dream seems unaffected. Did he really not see him? “Dream! PLEASE! Just tell me if you SEE ME!” Fundy urges and suddenly, the man stops.

“Oh, of course I do,” he answers finally, spinning around to face the distraught fox. For a moment, Fundy freezes before relaxing.

“Oh, thank-” he starts, sighing in relief when Dream turns back around.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t ignore you,” he hums and continues forward. Immediately, Fundy follows him.

“What?! Dream, please! You have no idea how terrifying this is!” he cries, getting in his way only for the man to go through him effortlessly.

“So?” he chuckles, leaving Fundy behind. When the fox looks back at him, he’s face to face with Eret already.

“What brings you here?” the king asks, looking at Dream with confusion on their face. Immediately, Fundy joins the two and waves his arms around.

“Eret! Eret! Can you see me?!” he yells as loud as he can, but no one responds.

“I needed wood, and you always seem to have some. I’ll pay you back, of course,” the masked man answers. Eret nods and heads towards one of the front towers of the castle’s wall. 

“Of course. How much do you need?” they ask. Dream shrugs. 

“Just a couple of stacks. Maybe four? I can give you 10 diamonds for that,” he replies. Eret nods as she enters the tower.

“That sounds fair, I’ll bring that for you,” he agrees before disappearing behind the door. Dream once again chuckles.

“You can quit trying to get others’ attention, you know? They won’t see you anyway,” he says quietly enough for Eret to not hear. 

“Dream, please, there has to be a way to fix this!” Fundy cries out in distress. There just has to be, right? 

“I don't know, Fundy, some things are better left untouched…” Dream hums with amusement as he watches the fox’s panic spiral. 

“Please! I'll do anything!” he begs, desperate to not be left forgotten forever. 

“Is that so?” the man asks slowly. Fundy doesn't think about it too much before nodding in agreement. “Fine, fine… We can discuss the details later, but you're clearly desperate… Here, drink this and everything will be okay again,” he promises, pulling a bottle of a green liquid from behind his back. Not even questioning any of that, Fundy quickly grabs it. 

“Oh, thank you so much!” he gasps, on the verge of tears as he downs the bottle. 

Once he sets it down, he doesn't feel any different at first. Then there's a terrible burning sensation in his mouth, throat, and stomach. All of a sudden, his breath is knocked out of his lungs as he bends over and tries to gasp for air. And as he tries to figure out why it hurts so much, he can hear Dream recoil in laughter. 

“Oh my God! I can't believe you! How gullible can you be?!” he asks through laughter. Fundy looks up at him and they lock eyes again. "You drank straight poison, Fundy. And you didn't even check!” he emphasizes, sounding proud of himself as he laughs again. 

Fundy would love to answer him, to cuss him out, or ask why, or beg for help, or anything, but he can only cough and wheeze through the burning pain. His knees eventually give in and his face is suddenly just barely above the ground as he curls up, covering his mouth and tasting blood inside of it. He's growing tired and more disoriented with every moment, and the only consistent things reaching him are his pain and Dream's laughter. Then, there are footsteps. 

“Fundy?!” Eret calls out, running out from the tower. Fundy feels so out of it that he barely realizes that they didn't see him before. But now they were running towards him, ready to help him and please save him from Dream. 

“He's not worth it, Eret,” Dream hums, and suddenly, the footsteps stop. Why did they stop? 

“...You're right, Dream,” Eret chuckles, her voice suddenly much scarier than before. 

Fundy feels like he's drowning, he can barely breathe anymore when he looks up to see Dream and Eret standing above him, watching him suffer and wheeze and cough and slowly wither and die. They're both just watching. His breath hitches as he struggles for air, desperate to live, desperate to survive. His eyes close in pain as he lies on the ground beneath their feet. Still, he tries to push himself back up. Maybe if he shows them how strong he is, they'll give him mercy and let him live? He wanted to live, he didn't want to die, he was scared of death-

“Do you want to do the honors?” Dream asks. Fundy forces his eyes open to look up at them again. 

“With pleasure,” Eret answers. As Fundy's vision focuses, he sees a boot flying at his face. Then, he feels pain and hears a crack in his neck. Everything goes black. 

With a gasp, he sits up. The air is heavy and dry, there's probably dust in it and he can feel it scratching his throat. He can also feel tears running down his face and a pair of hands on his shoulders. With a gasp, he starts struggling against them, he doesn't want to die, he doesn't want to die, he doesn't, he doesn't-

“Fundy!” someone calls out, someone familiar. Do they want to kill him too? 

“P-please, I- I-” he gasps in panic, shivering as they let go of one of his shoulders and gently take his hand. Too gently. They must be faking it. 

“Fundy, it's okay! You're okay…” they hush him, rubbing his hand gently. That's clearly a lie, why does his chest hurt so much if he's okay? “Please, take deep breaths, you're okay,” they try to convince him. 

“I- I-” he gasps, wanting to call them out on lying but unable to get any words out. Just then, his vision finally sharpens and he can make out their face in the darkness. “...5-5up?” he asks under his breath. 

“I'm here,” the 'someone', his boyfriend, answers. “You're okay, you're safe now, okay?” he assures him. Out of all people, he’s one of the few Fundy’d consider trustworthy. 

“O-okay,” he agrees quietly, nodding. 

Suddenly, he's pulled into a gentle embrace and he finds himself hiding in 5up's arms. Almost immediately, he wraps his hands around him and holds onto his shirt as if he was about to disappear. Instead, his boyfriend rocks him gently to the sides and hums quietly, bringing Fundy more comfort than he'd like to admit. 

“Better?” 5up asks after a moment of silence. Fundy nods slightly and mutters a quiet confirmation. “It's okay, Fundy. I promise, it was just a bad dream,” he assures. Fundy shivers at the words. 

“It was a goddamn nightmare,” he mutters quietly. With a sigh, 5up pulls away to look at Fundy’s face.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks, and Fundy hesitantly nods.

“Y-yeah, I…” he mutters, still taking a couple of sharp breaths as his lungs get used to having air again.

“Come on, let’s get you some water first, okay?” 5up suggests, slowly getting up and giving Fundy time to follow. 

“...Okay…” he nods. His legs almost give in the second he tries to stand, but with 5up’s help, he manages to keep his balance somehow. Yet when 5up tries to lead the fox towards where they could find water, Fundy doesn’t budge from his place.

“...Fundy?” he asks, turning to see the man looking down at the floor, trembling slightly while still holding his hand.

“Do you… do you think you’ll ever just… forget me?” he asks hesitantly, his voice cracking slightly. He can’t help but fear the answer he’s about to get.

“Oh, Fundy…” 5up sighs, taking a step towards him and pulling him into a hug again. “I promise, I will remember you forever,” he assures him. A single sob escapes Fundy as he returns the embrace. “How could I ever forget such a smart and handsome man, after all?” he adds, and Fundy can’t help but chuckle before relaxing in his arms.

“...Thank you, Five…” he mutters quietly. They stayed like that for quite a while, the water could wait after all.

=================================

Thank you for reading and I hope the story was interesting and entertaining for you!

Also, as mentioned before, I would like to explain some things about the nightmare:

First of all, when you're dreaming and you try to count your fingers, you'll always get the wrong number. That's why Fundy felt as if something was wrong whenever he looked at his hands. I just figured that this could be a nice hint.

Second of all, reflections don't work properly in our dreams. That's why you should never look into a mirror while you're sleeping, you could "see something terrible". I wasn't sure what that meant until I recently had a dream in which I got to see my reflection and uhh. It wasn't nice, but hey, at least I know what it means and could use it here!

If you have any more questions as to why what happened/about the setting and stuff, my askbox is always open! So are my DMs, and you can always leave them in tags/replies/reblogs, too!

Oh, and lastly, this is also on AO3, so don’t worry if you find it over there, no one stole it.

[felidaefighter]

Sleep, And Be Safe

[angst with a happy ending, melancholy, Wilbur’s death comes up briefly, AU where Phil adopts Ranboo and Wilbur repairs his relationships; Philza POV]

Philza tells his son a bedtime story. Philza watches his son die. Philza tells his other son a bedtime story. Philza watches his son tell a bedtime story.

“Phil? I’m tired,” Wilbur says in a quiet, pleading voice.

Phil knows Wilbur is old enough to be outgrowing these things, that soon this will be the last time he whines like this; still a child, still his father’s son, but getting older and smarter every day. He wraps his wing around the pre-teen and sighs in resignation.

“You’re getting old for this,” Phil says matter-of-factly.

“I know,” Wilbur says, and with a yawn, adds “Please?”

Phil sits down on the bed, black shadow of his wings partially wrapping around the two of them. “I’m assuming you don’t want to hear about The Goddess Of Flowerfall, The Empress Of The Void, or The King Who Stole The World,” he said, already knowing the answer and the story his son wanted. Wilbur shook his head, confirming it.

“Right,” Phil began.

“Once, at the start of the world, there was only day. And a crow who loved her children very, very much. But the children were adventurous, and in their adventures, though full of wonder it was, they wound up getting hurt. The crow pleaded with her children to rest sometimes, but the children asked, “How can we rest, when the world is full of things to see?” So the crow came up with a plan. It was a simple plan.”

As he spoke, he drew his wings tighter and tighter around the two of them, engulfing them both slowly-- he smiled softly as he saw Wilbur’s eyes fluttering shut.

“The crow thought, “If my children have nothing to see, they will be able to rest; at least for a little while.” So she gathered them all up in their nest, and wrapped her black wings around them for a long time. And they slept. And when she opened her wings, it was the first morning. The crow did this many times, and every time, it worked. But the crow realized she couldn’t do this forever. And she saw other creatures, without her beautiful wings, with children who were adventurous, and in their adventures, though full of wonder it was, wound up getting hurt. So the crow made one final plan.”

Phil stopped, hearing the snoring coming beneath his wings, and suppressed a chuckle. It seemed like no matter how old Wilbur grew, that trick would always work. Gently, he unfolded his wings, and repositioned Wilbur in a way that wouldn’t give him a headache upon waking, throwing a blanket over him before leaving the room. He hummed, finding himself thinking a little on the old fable. If only things were actually so simple that a full night’s rest could cure wanderlust and keep his child safe.

-----

It’s been a long time since Phil has wrapped his wings around his son. As he’d suspected, wanderlust had claimed him as soon as it was able; Wilbur had been a traveller and a poet for nearly half his life now, sending his own tales of adventures in long-winded letters and sometimes regaled to him by Phil’s own eager flock of crows. It was rare they got to speak in person; even rarer for Phil to wrap his wings around Wilbur, and rarer still for Wilbur to tell Phil that he was tired.

Phil has lived for what could be an eternity-- years go by in a blink, days mean almost nothing.

And yet, for about ten seconds, there’s enough time for a billion thoughts to race through his head. It’s the slowest ten seconds of Phil’s life. He has just enough time to react, to do what a parent naturally does and desperately attempt to shield his son from the force of the explosion with his whole body, wings and all. There are so many things in Phil’s head right now-- thoughts and concepts and worries and realizations and how he’s going to react when the explosion is over and those ten seconds are up. 

In the midst of all these thoughts, in a brief flicker, that old fable comes to mind. But the children were adventurous, and in their adventures, though full of wonder it was, they wound up getting hurt. The crow pleaded with her children to rest sometimes, but the children asked, “How can we rest, when the world is full of things to see?” His wings surround Wilbur, and he can feel them burn, but it doesn’t matter. He can feel the damage eating them, but it doesn’t matter. Just for a moment, Phil has his wings around his son again. Just for a moment, he can pretend this can protect his son.

The ten seconds are up. The explosion stops. Wilbur begins to speak again, something desperate in his voice. He’s long gone. He’s hurt. He’s pleading. He’s pleading, and he sounds tired-- of life, that is, but still tired. If only life were so simple.

It ends with sleep eternal. There is no ache that repositioning can avoid; there is no blanket but the soft earth once a grave has been dug. There aren’t even any wings to cover him anymore, or time to spend mourning at this moment. It must be done later; there are other people’s children in danger; other creatures without beautiful black wings to protect them.

-----

“You alright mate?” Phil asks, giving Ranboo a side-eye. The tall hybrid had been muttering and moving strangely for about a half hour now, and it was starting to seem less like some quirky behavior that Ranboo was admittedly prone to and something unusual and potentially concerning instead.

“Hm? Oh--” Ranboo stopped his muttering sheepishly. “Phil, I’m tired,” He confesses. 

Nostalgia hits Phil in the gut as if it were the blunt end of a sword handle, but Phil is a seasoned warrior, and he takes it in stride, without Ranboo picking up on it. “Aw, mate,” Phil says fondly, and Ranboo flushes a bit, embarrassed.

“I’m fine,” Ranboo tries to say, but is cut off by his own giant yawn, jaw unhinging and dipping down towards his chest.

“Oh--” That was certainly a sight. It did, at least, distract Phil from his thoughts about when he’d last heard that particular sentence from a son of his. “Yeah, fine,” Phil drawls smugly, “Looks like someone’s tired.”

“Phil!” Ranboo chides, but the hybrid is drooping in his posture and looking more like a ragdoll than an enderman by the minute. Phil starts to subtly cart Ranboo off to the spare room in his house, deciding that the short trek through the snow to Ranboo’s own house is a trek too much. “I can take care of myself!”

Phil knows this. Phil knows that Ranboo is an adult, that Ranboo is capable of taking care of himself. Phil also knows this is never enough. That protection from harm is a dream that parents tell themselves to ease the worries and fend off the truth that you simply can’t control everything. That it’s a good thing, to have children who are capable, who are strong, who don’t need your wings around them in the night anymore. Phil stops his fussing for a moment, and sighs.

“I know,” He tells Ranboo, who tilts his head at the tone. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so bossy. It’s more-- it’s more for me than you. I haven’t done this in a long time, and I kinda missed the chance to do it with you when you were a kid,” Phil admits. Ranboo contemplates this.

“You don’t have to let me parent you this hard,” He says with a small cackle, “And you’re welcome to sleep in your own bed. God, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

He does know, it’s just hard to admit something like that. 

“I would like to sleep in my own bed, yeah,” Ranboo says awkwardly, and it’s Phil’s turn to be a little embarrassed. “But-- but if you want you can come with me to say goodnight?”

“I’d like that,” Phil says. He’d like that.

They get to Ranboo’s house, Phil kisses Ranboo goodnight on the forehead, and Phil goes to leave-- but he hesitates. “Can I, ah--” Phil cuts himself off. He is being overbearing. He is being embarrassing. “Nevermind, nevermind, it’s stupid,” He mutters under his breath.

“Hm? No, what were you gonna ask?” Ranboo says, sleepy though he is.

“Can I tell you a story?”

There it is. Awkward, but out there now. Sometimes Phil hates having a soft side. And Ranboo--

“Oh! Sure! I get the feeling that I’ve probably never heard the stories you have in mind, too, so that might be nice,” Ranboo replies, expressing what appears to be genuine interest.

Something unfurls in Phil’s heart, opening it up for the first time in a long, long time, to the light of the adventurous day. Well, it’s nighttime, but the metaphor still stands. Maybe Phil isn’t a failure of a parent after all. Maybe sometimes, people just grow up. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still be a father. Phil takes a moment to compose himself, appreciative of Ranboo’s patience. He thinks for a moment.

“I’ve got a few,” He begins sheepishly. “Which would you like to hear? We’ve got the Goddess Of Flowerfall, the Empress Of The Void, The King Who Stole The World, or The Mother Of Night.”

“Ooooh,” Ranboo says, and it occurs to Phil that the fables he tells probably are outdated. He has no idea if anyone other than him and Wil-- well, Fundy, he supposes-- know them anymore. It might be nice, Phil thinks fondly, to have someone else to tell them now. Maybe pass them on to Michael, even. That would be nice.

“Those all sound really interesting,” Ranboo says. “How about… uhhh…”

-----

Phil stops when he overhears Wilbur talking with Fundy in the guest bedroom. Had it always been so melancholic a story? Phil wasn’t sure how much it mattered, really; a bedtime story was a bedtime story, after all, and as long as it got your son to sleep everything would be alright. He listened just outside the door as Wilbur spoke.

“...She decided that she would have to do this for all the children of all the creatures, for not everyone had wings as she but many had children who were just as prone to adventure and harm. So because her will was strong and her love was stronger, she grew and grew and grew, until she was so big that she could cover the world if she so chose. And she does-- every night, she takes her black wing and wraps it around the world. And she watches over us with one big silver eye-- though sometimes she has to blink. So although the night is full of dark and danger, it is when we must rest, because the night is borne of love. Sleep, and be safe.”

Phil quietly stepped into the room as Wilbur finished the story. Surprisingly, even with Wilbur’s silver tongue, Fundy had managed to just barely keep his eyes open. “I still think the blinking thing is stupid,” Fundy muttered tiredly. Wilbur laughed awkwardly. “It ah, works a little better if you have an actual wing to cover you with.” Phil chuckled, earning a glance from the two of them.

“That’s true, the dark and warmth puts you out like a light pretty fast,” Phil confesses, “Which is why it’s a favored story for a lot of parents.” He sits down beside the two of them and wraps his wings around his boys. They are both adults and far too tall to comfortably fit in the span of, but Fundy is half-asleep as it is and within seconds is snoring just like his dad used to. Phil watches Wilbur suppress a chuckle, and gently unfolds his wings to let Wilbur take care of the rest.

Phil stands just outside the room, and Wilbur approaches him after Fundy is repositioned so he won’t have a headache when he wakes tomorrow. “I’m uh, trying to be a better dad to him,” Wilbur explains, “And if that means still doing some stuff that’s considered childish, that’s alright. He deserves a little bit of that, I think. Towards the end I wasn’t really-- I didn’t protect him. I wasn’t very nice. A bedtime story is the least I can do.”

It’s such a strange feeling, watching your son have a son of his own. He wonders if the feeling of failing to protect them, despite them being old enough that there’s nothing you can truly do, is hereditary, or if it’s just something that all fathers have to face eventually. “I’m just surprised you remember the ending,” Phil says instead, “Considering you were usually asleep by then.” Wilbur grins wide. “Yeah, well. Stories are my thing,” He sniffs, “I’m good at stories.”

Phil finds himself by the window, staring out at it and into the silver light of the moon. The snow reflects it, turning the night a deep blue and fading the stars. Wilbur follows suit, and follows his gaze. They stand like this for a while, the two of them, both fathers, both with their regrets.

“I’m sorry, Phil,” Wilbur says quietly. Phil’s heart aches and he longs to take all the burdens from his son’s chest. The silver light of the moon reflects, too, off of the streak in Wilbur’s hair. Wilbur has said it’s from age, but Phil is old and wise enough to know this is not the case. There are some burdens that are taken beyond the grave. Some things Phil will never know about his son. Phil has conceded this. But still-- Wilbur is his son. What else is there to say?

“I forgive you,” He says. “And I love you. And I’m sorry, too.” 

Wilbur shakes his head at that. “You have nothing to apologize for, Phil,” he says firmly. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Phil frowns at this but Wilbur has the stubbornness that runs in the family, and he definitely isn’t going to let Phil apologize if he thinks Phil in the right. Phil knows better than to try and argue for something he won’t win. 

“Right,” Phil says with a small clap, slightly startling Wilbur, “I’ve told enough stories in my time and it’s clear you haven’t told nearly as many. It’s your turn. Tell me a real story-- something you left out in your letters. I’d like to know you again, the way I used to.”

“...I can’t really argue with that,” Wilbur says softly and with a sigh. He shakes his head. “You’re right as always, Phil.”

They both take a seat, and Wilbur begins to speak, telling an only-a-little-bit-embellished story about one of the battles they held in the L’Manberg war for independence. As desperately as Phil wishes he could have been there, he is content to listen to the adventure Wilbur had, full of wonder it was. Sometimes these things are worth it.

The black wing of night envelopes them, and although neither of them sleep, for now, in this moment, they are safe.

[crystalirises]

Walls of False Illusion

Slight context: this is basically a fic of Wilbur catching Fundy going out of L’Manberg’s walls and in this fic Fundy has never been allowed to fight in the frontlines so he has rarely left L’Manburg and has never met the DTeam.

Ye, hope you guys like it! :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you believe I wouldn’t notice your absence?” Fundy froze, a silhouette appearing from behind the tree that stood beside the entrance to L’Manburg. “Fundy, what was my one rule?”

He gripped the bottom edge of his uniform shirt, bits of string hanging loosely from the cloth as he turned around to face Wilbur. The man looked utterly exhausted, dark circles beneath his eyes as a cool breeze ruffled his uncombed, curly brown hair. Wilbur stood at attention, one hand gripping the hilt of his sword as Fundy felt his father grasp his arm. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to speak as Wilbur dragged him deeper into the confines of L’Manburg, soft chuckling from somewhere in the darkness (no doubt Tubbo and Tommy watching Fundy be dragged off into another lecture). Fundy bit the inside of his cheek, the hto dog van coming into view as Wilbur practically shoved him inside. Shadows clung to the furniture, the soft hiss of potions brewing the only source of noise within the small space that Fundy nearly wished that Wilbur would just leave him there to sulk for the night as his punishment. Luck was not on the fox hybrid’s side.

“Have you any idea how horrified I was to find out that you were missing? I was this close to sending out search parties, Fundy. I was this fucking close!” Fundy hung his head, his father’s yelling accompanied by the sickening slam of the door closing. He pressed his lips together as Wilbur grabbed him by the arms, his hold nearly bruising as Wilbur glared into his eyes. Fundy felt a trickle of fear, “I can’t have you doing this again. Do you know how reckless and stupid―”

“I just wanted to take a walk, dad…”

“A walk? A WALK?! What if you got caught? What if you ran into fucking Dream? Have you no self-preservation. FUCK!” Fundy flinched as Wilbur let go of him, only to slam his hands against the table. Wilbur was breathing hard, his chest heaving up and down as if he was calming himself down. “I can’t lose you, Fundy. Dream’s a tyrant, he would do anything to win this war.”

“Why? Are you scared they’re going to use me against you? They probably don’t even know I exist since I’m not even allowed to leave this place! How could they even know you have a son to use as blackmail when you don’t let me wander outside the walls?!” Fundy hadn’t meant to raise his voice, stuttering into a fearful pause as he realized the seeping anger in his tone. Wilbur glanced up at him, shock dancing in those dark brown eyes. Fundy leaned against the wall, the cool metal sending goosebumps down his skin… or perhaps that was the rising frustration. L’Manburg was Fundy’s entire world, he barely knew anything outside those depressingly large walls that seemed to reach up into the heavens above. Wilbur had made it clear to everyone that Fundy was to never leave. “Dad, I can’t live my whole life here. There’s a whole other world out there just waiting to be explored. I… I just wanted to see it. You can’t keep me inside forever.”

“It’s not forever, Fundy. It’s just until the war is over.” He felt a gentle hand caress his cheek. Fundy didn’t even realize that Wilbur had moved closer, “Then you’ll be free to… wander.”

Fundy chuckled at that. His dad was a terrible liar, he couldn’t even conceal the hesitation in his voice. Fundy focused his attention on his muddy boots instead, remembering how the wind felt against his hair as he raced through the forest, a skulk of foxes yipping after him as they skittered in and out view among the forest shrubbery. The silver rays of moonlight had been his only guide. Of course he did run into a few trees, even running into a strangely colored lime one that he swore made a peculiar sound when he bumped into it. He had eventually come to a stop by a clear lake at the center of an empty clearing, watching as the dark shadows zipped around the bottom of the water. Fundy had sat at the edge, water falling his fingertips as if they were blue laces of crystal. As he let himself catch his breath, it felt as if someone was watching from afar―

���Give it time. We’ll have our freedom and perhaps I’ll let you leave L’Manburg every now and then.” There was a hand on the top of his head, soothing his ears down as a smile formed on his dad’s face. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to return it. “I promise. Just stay inside for now, hm?”

“You promise?” He moved closer, clutching the front of his dad’s coat. Wilbur placed a hand at Fundy’s back, hesitant as if Wilbur wasn’t quite sure if Fundy was asking for a hug. Fundy gritted his teeth at the idea of even hugging Wilbur at such a time. He took a sigh, willing his voice not to shake or for tears to spring into his eyes as he glanced up to meet his father’s eyes. He hated how he barely reached his father’s chin despite being older than Tommy or Tubbo. “You talk of freedom and independence as if they were inevitable. Don’t you see how hopeless this is dad? You’re fighting a losing battle. You think you can beat a god? A fucking god? We’re all going to die. I-I’m going to die. I’m going to die without ever having lived, dad―”

The rest of his words were swallowed away as Wilbur pulled him into an embrace, a hand pressing his head against his dad’s chest. Fundy could almost hear the erratic beat of Wilbur’s heart, felt the way that his dad held him in as though his words had actually frightened Wilbur. Guilt trickled into his heart but Fundy tried not to hold onto it. “Don’t say that. You won’t… you can’t die. I’ll make sure of it. We’ll be fine, my son. You won’t die on the battlefield.”

“You can’t promise me that. You can’t promise me a chance against death.” Fundy wasn’t sure if Wilbur could hear him - not sure if Wilbur would dare to hear him - but he had to try. Wilbur began to hum, a discordant tune that sounded more like droning as if he was trying to block out Fundy’s voice. Fundy curled his hands into fists, nails digging into the skin of his palm. His dad was doing it again, ignoring the negative as if it didn’t exist. “Dad… you have to let me live a little. We don’t know how much time we have left before… Let me feel freedom for once.”

Silence ticked by as Wilbur moved away, a pained look in his eyes as he looked down at Fundy. There was the shimmer of tears but Wilbur didn’t cry. No. Never in front of Fundy. Wilbur wrapped his arms around himself and Fundy realized that Wilbur was reassuring himself more than he was protecting Fundy. This wasn’t about Fundy at all… this was about Wilbur’s fear.

“I love you very much, my little champion. I love you enough to say no to what you’re asking of me. I… I can’t have you running about in the forest at night doing gods know what. Not when Dream is out there… waiting.” Fundy rolled his eyes at that. For all this talk of Dream, he’s never even seen the illusive man at all. Fundy was beginning to think that Wilbur had made the man up, like did once when Fundy was a kid and Wilbur had jokingly said there was a monster underneath the bed. Wilbur regretted it as Fundy refused to be left alone for an entire month. “Do you know why I built those walls? The walls you are so adamant to hate? I built them for you. I built them to keep you safe, Fundy. I need to protect my sweet little son. Can’t you see that?”

“Can’t you see? I’m not that kid anymore. You need to stop seeing me as if I was still a helpless baby.” Fundy felt his last inkling of hope disappear. Wilbur would never understand, never will for as long as he thought the world would take his son away. Fundy turned to leave, ignoring his dad’s call for him to come back. He stood at the door, hand hovering above the handle.

“Fundy Soot, you get back here this instant. The conversation isn’t over.” He let out a low growl. It was over, Fundy was ending it. He pushed the door open, the cool, night wind blowing through his hair and into the cramped and heated van. “Don’t you growl at me, young man. FUNDY―”

He looked back, snarling loudly that Wilbur immediately backed off, a surprised look on his face. Good. Fundy didn’t want to stay there any longer. Fuck Wilbur and Fuck L’Manburg too.

“You know what, Wilbur? I never asked you to fucking protect me. You made that choice. Now I’m making mine.”

And with that, Fundy was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next

[wtffundiefamilies]

redwhirlwind89 said:  Isn’t it gross? Doesn’t help that David and Priscilla look very much related. And blonde/pale like the Dollangangers from Flowers in the Attic. It must be like they did in Ancient Egypt…promote incest to keep the ‘good blood’ in the line.                           

I feel like now is the time to point out that the Dollangangars also did the one-letter theme, Duggars.

      redwhirlwind89

Okay, what the hell is it with these 'special' people and their random anniversaries?! Guys, wait three more months and just call it five years you bloody idiots! I know neither of you can figure out how to open a can of tuna but get a grip!

The only people I’ve ever known who did this were a couple I knew in high school.  We’re 15 years-ish out of high school now, they’re married and have since chilled (though they are still forever my IRL OTP <3 ) The fundies DO seem to be play-acting their first ever high school relationships in their marriages a lot.  Maybe that’s where it comes from. 

    undercoverduggarblog

phillip looks exactly like priscilla’s dad

He really does. 

      discussingtheduggarfam fundie-fun  

TL;DR but these two are so stinking cute about each other.

   miriten discussingtheduggarfam  

I guess that’s what happens when you meet and fall in love instead of being forced into a relationship?

Zach and Whitney really do seem more genuine about each other; most of the fundies seem to be acting the way they think married couples are supposed to.  I never thought about it relating to the fact that they met and got to know each other normally at least at first, without their parents hovering over them.  Whitney having a more normal upbringing (and little interest in converting to the Bates way of life) probably has something to do with it as well.

redwhirlwind89

I also think having no insurance has something to do with it, honestly. There's no way Bum Ben has good insurance for his family...they probably cannot afford a hospital birth.

That’s probably true as well.  I doubt Jill and Derick or Josh and Anna do either.  What is Ben even DOING as a job?  He sure seems to have a lot of free time.

noora7

Are they Indonesians? Hartono is an Indonesian last name.

I think so, yes.

devaleriola wtffundiefamilies  

Where’d you get that? Her face and her clothes are clean.

True; I’m probably being unfair.  Post-Jubilee fiasco I really stopped watching the show as regularly, and I sort of hold the family in my mind at the earlier stages of the show, when the kids would be running around looking disastrous.  I still shudder thinking of Jackson sitting on the floor with the bottoms of his feet jet black, eating spilled Cheerios off the disgusting floor (and he was like 6 at the time).  Shudder.  They’ve improved a bit since then (maybe because the youngest kids now are less likely to be rolling around in the mud and those who were are now too old for that shit).

      nothingelsemakessense

Is this shortly after they moved to DC? I think that's when Anna was at her loneliest, as she didn't have her sisters-in-law to keep her socialized and hadn't realized you can look outside the family for friends yet.

I think it was pretty soon after the move, so that makes sense. 

    redwhirlwind89

Haha, I do feel like poor Anna has so many psychological issues stemming from her not-so-great life that she would come to confide in a toddler.

In general, fundie motherhood seems to be about treating your daughters both as live-in help and “best friends” to dump all your crap on. 

nothingelsemakessense

I hate how they insist on saying what "most people do" as if they have the slightest idea of how people outside of their lifestyle live. They may have a slight idea of things that are done differently, but they have no concept of the day-to-day life of even mainstream conservative Christians.

All they know is what their parents and people in their parents’ mindset tell them, so I can only imagine what they envision.  Probably ritualistic Satanic sacrifices on parentless dates.

nothingelsemakessense

He's definitely too fragile for Jessa's style of humor.

I still don’t get how they ended up together.  He looks hurt and furious every time Jessa teases him, Jessa has little interest in the Donna Reed role he seems to want his wife to fill...eh, probably cuz she’s hot and she was desperate.

      nothingelsemakessense

It's probably from that "train up a child" Bible verse. I heard that one all the time. I've also heard a lot of Christian parents say "We trust you, it's him we don't trust" when a teenage daughter complains about dating rules.

I’ve heard that a lot in secular dating as well, but JFC, if you’re that hardcore religious you’re probably hand-picking your daughters’ dudes anyway.  Like...if JimBob doesn’t trust Ben, why would he be like “Yeah, you’re cool to marry my daughter” in the first place??

nothingelsemakessense

I've actually known a few couples who had their parents go on their honeymoon with them. My cousin even had them in an adjoining room.

Damn.  I never thought I’d look at the Duggar relationship model and go “Eh, could be worse.”

nothingelsemakessense

I hate people who don't understand what topics are good for discussion at a public place where children could be around.

I’m guessing they cleared the mini-golf course so they could film unimpeded and they wouldn’t have to be around women wearing pants or tank tops, therefore ruining Ben for life, but considering that Michelle abandoned Josie in the hospital to protest a convenience store selling beer because teh childrenz might see it...it is pretty goddamn hypocritical of them.

avatargirl1930

I hate this because he was probably 'working late' that night by banging some toothless prostitute.

Ugh, no doubt he ditched her many a time to browse Ashley Madison. 

devaleriola wtffundiefamilies  

She has the same stupid facial expressions as her mother-in-law

To this day I can’t figure out if she started directly imitating Michelle or she was just like this from the start and he was attracted to her because of it.  Either way it’s disturbing.

hiimana wtffundiefamilies  

If it was challenging for you and jim bob y'all should have stopped at 6 not kept going 😒

For real.  No, instead they decided to emotionally manipulate church members and train their daughters to take their place in the family.  MOTHER OF THE YEAR EVERYONE.

wonderfullywicked

"The first daughter is courting and we're more upset/annoyed that we'll be losing a maid than happy that she's courting." Was all I got from Michelle saying this when I first watched it

Undoubtedly true.  Michelle doesn’t seem to like her older daughters much anyway.