Cfundy - Tumblr Posts
i dont want to be hurt again. YOU dont want to be hurt again.
So with advice of the dead, and a halo over my head.
so, I thought of THE worst joke the other night (bear with me here)
we're generally aware of the fact that c!Fundy was (at least briefly) trans
but that got retconned (for understandable reasons)
HOWEVER, one could argue that, even if he is a completely cis man, c!Fundy was still AFAB
(this joke works in three different flavours: Assigned Fox/Fundy/Furry At Birth)
so, I thought of THE worst joke the other night (bear with me here)
we're generally aware of the fact that c!Fundy was (at least briefly) trans
but that got retconned (for understandable reasons)
HOWEVER, one could argue that, even if he is a completely cis man, c!Fundy was still AFAB
(this joke works in three different flavours: Assigned Fox/Fundy/Furry At Birth)
Wilbur! WIlbur that's not how you hold a child! WILBUR
(had help with the hair)
c!fundy purrs when he sleeps. you did not hear that from me tho :)
ngl if c!fundy was human he'd most likely have a fur suit and wear it secretly to avoid being called a furry
reminder, I didn't say this if the police asked <3
Wilbur doesn't know why he knows the steps. It feels like a dance you remember only in a hazy state. Walking beside a small kid, careful not to trip into her stride feels right. He feels like something overtakes him to speak in a gentler voice of reassurance. To sing her a song goodnight is instinct, not just as a musician but as something else. It feels so strange all of a sudden that he of all people is so careful with a child he's never met until that day. When he heard he was possibly a dad, he simply dismissed it like minor news. Akin to hearing you have a spider in your home or it's raining in 4 days, he'll get to it but it's nothing really.
But now he cares so much, he'd wreak havoc if anything happened to Tallulah. It feels like deja vu, like looking through a mirror to another world. A world where he has a special place surrounded by redwood trees and by the riverside. That other guy he's looking at, he's building everything up just for his own kid, with the same face of care and concerns as his own. He's singing some lullabies as him, matching the cadences and lyrics even if hushed and mumbled. He's teaching how to shoot a bow and arrow to his kid just like him, explaining the steps the same as him. He's leaving the kid soon just like the other, but at least he's trusting someone else to take care in his stead.
There's another kid, he realises. And that kid looks sad, in spite of the beautiful scenery. That kid is looking at walls, just like Tallulah. He's not living in much comfort or glamour, just like Tallulah. He's learning how to fend for himself with a bow and arrow, Tallulah will be like that soon. He's seen the dance, the rhythm of a deadbeat. And now its up to him to change the paces.
Will doesn't know why he pauses in faint recollection when a memory doesn't exist. It's merely a dream from a bygone night, but what's a memory but not a dream you've seen before. Yet when remembers walking through the forest and a flash of red fur snickering, he doesn't understand why a pang of burrowing feelings hits him.
And that feeling turns to drive, a desire to be at least the best dad he can be for now. For Tallulah and for that lonely kid he doesn't remember.
Today’s my bday! (3/30) As promised, here some more-better-quality shots I made during Feb+March I've never thought to be able to be even so close to finish this lil’ project of mine, but here I am! I still need to get some other shots done, but I’m pretty positive that I’ll finish them at some point surely (like, this or next week, I think) Also I’ve got my first 100 followers?? POG??? --- Also please do NOT repost or edit or use these. Reblogs are appreciated :) --- UPD: There was a wrong order between some of the pics, but I fixed it!
Yay! I've made it! Hope you enjoy the result! Gonna post the shots in parts soon :) Also!! Reblogs are very appreciated, but Please, DO NOT repost this
Part 6/8 Reblogs are very appreciated, but Please, DO NOT repost this, use for edits nor profile pics!
im rereading old posts about how c!fundy gets overlooked and. while i already knew c!fundy used jokes and comedic attitudes to tolerate his neglect, i didn't realize how MUCH it's happened over the course of his lore. from c!phil not treating him seriously to c!schlatt constantly reducing him as a 'furry' to his last mention in las nevadas being a joke. he literally was like a punchline to a lot of people, no fucking wonder he sought comfort in all the pranks and jokes he does
In and Out (Of Sync)
A short story about Fundy, and how he interacts with water and his family.
Words: 610
Trigger warnings: Brief mention of grief, death, and blood
⛈️🦊🕯️
He stood where the land met the rolling waves, watching as the wind picked up and threw the water down again. Pushing. Pulling. Pushing. And pulling again.
A breath. In and out. Pushing and pulling.
The air was wet and cold. Sharp.
A breath. In and out. A push. A pull.
He brought his arms above his head, slowly. And then down again. Push, pull. In, out.
Again. A breath. In and out. Up and down. Push and pull.
One leg over the other, bare feet on freezing sand, sticking to his skin despite quick spins.
In and out and up and down and push and pull and forward and backward.
Feeling the sea and the land colliding, eyes closed, he moves his body in harmony. In tandem. In sync. In and out.
Hands on his chest and then off. On and off.
Eyes open and then closed. Open and closed.
Arm over arm. Over and then under.
Blood warm. Warm and cold.
Memories swimming. Swimming and drowning.
Hands being held and let go.
A mother and a father.
Dead. Alive.
He’s alive. In and out and open and under and closed and swimming and off and dead and alive and in and out.
A raindrop on his nose. And arm. And head. And open eyes.
Drawn to the sea like his mother before him. Drawn to his mother like his father. Scared like a father. Curious like a mother. Dead. And alive.
And yet so peaceful.
A mother’s voice.
In.
“I’m here, Fundy. I see you, my son.”
And out.
Grief, Fundy has found, has a push and a pull. It came in suffocating waves and fast currents. High and low tide. Receding shorelines and tsunamis.
Fundy never knew his mother, so he began to dance again. The rain hit him with increasing intensity.
And yet, there are bright shining memories of her at the edge of his vision. A sure voice.
Especially by the water. He could feel her in the push and the pull. The neverending cycle from sea to sky and back again.
He reached his arm out with closed eyes, lunging parallel to the sea.
Memories of pictures and stories told by his father flooded through Fundy, clenched his chest, furrowed his eyebrows.
He knew his father.
Such confusion and anger surrounded, clouded his father. Peace, his mother. Chaos, his father.
In.
Sweltering heat.
In.
Fire.
In.
The taste of warm blood.
In.
A lighting strike.
In.
Explosions.
In.
A comforting hug.
Out.
In.
Fundy closed his eyes.
Out.
He leaned backwards, out of the lunge, into a stretch.
The rain moved swiftly onwards towards the mainland. Fundy watched it go. As the thunder continued to clap and lightning lit up the sky, Fundy could hear the booming message.
In.
His father’s voice
“Fundy, my son. How proud of you I am.”
Out.
In.
And
Fundy brang his feet to meet each other, one arm outstretched towards the storm and the other reaching towards the calming sea.
In and out but both moving.
Pushing and pulling and both changing.
Up and down but both infinite.
Forward and backward but both steps.
On and off and open and closed and over and under and warm and cold and swimming and drowning and holding and letting go and dead and alive and it’s all the same.
The storm and the sea. Both are made of water.
Both are the same.
Everything. From the sun in the sky to the sand on the beach. The plants growing and the animals that eat them.
In one singular moment, Fundy felt that peace. The certainty. The balance. The understanding.
Out.
Haven’t posted art in a good minute, have wholesome gays
so i did an ao3 thingy
my c!fundy-obsessed ass needed to do something sooner or later
Sandcastles - lil Fundy drabble
As a kid, Fundy liked sandcastles.
He'd wait until Wilbur was distracted as if he was paying attention in the first place, then run out to the river, the one right by L'manberg with the sandy shores. Paws were careful as he shaped the most beautiful designs, walls and spires and stability, wall design akin to the same one that surrounded his country.
Sometimes he'd stay out till night, cutting his hands on shells and rocks hidden within the grains. But it was all worth it, wasn't it?
Each time Fundy left one there, he expected to return the next day to the same thing. Each time, Fundy returned to nothingness, the castle gone, everything blown away in the wind.
Each time, he repeated the process again. The building, the blind hope and devotion to something that meant nothing in the end, and the eventual letdown.
He still likes sandcastles.