collided and corrupted -- Dream SMP x Hermitcraft

Chapter 10

"FUCK!" Little 5-year-old Wilbur shouted at the top of his tiny lungs, a smile on his lips. Phil nearly spit out his tea.

"Wilby! Don't say that! That's a bad word!"

"But you say it." Wilbur pointed out, blinking at Phil with his innocent green eyes.

Phil sighed and shook his head, unable to really argue with his toddler's logic.

"Fine. You can say fuck. But don't shout, especially in public, please." Phil pleaded, running a hand through his hair (which he needed to get cut. It was starting to grow out too long for his liking)

"Okay, Birdie!"
"Please don't call me Birdie."

"Okay, Dadza!"
Wilbur grinned brightly. Phil sighed and collapsed into a chair, shifting to comfortably lay back and not hurt his wings. Kids were hard work, and he never wanted another one. Wilbur was enough. Phil reached over to the coffee table and picked up his mug of hot tea, which wasn't hot anymore, and took a long sip. Wilbur climbed onto the couch and into his father's lap, tugging on the sleeve of Phil's new haori that Kristen gifted him.

"Dadza!" Ever since the dirty little crime boy, as Phil often called him, learned that Phil's name was not in fact 'Dad', Wilbur called him 'Dadza', a clever combination of Phil's name, "You are like bird."

Phil sighed. Wilbur pointed that out almost everyday, always calling him Birdie or Birdza.

"Yes, Wil, I am like a bird,"

Wilbur giggled, "Philza is like bird! Philza is like pretty bird flying about!" He reached over and gently touched Phil's wings.

Phil laughed,wrapping his arms around his little boy.

"You are too fucking cute."

Wilbur giggled and gently played with Phil's feathers. Phil's wings meant a lot to him. Not only did they give him freedom and happiness, the deep black and void pattern reminded him of his lover. That's why he always kept them looking nice. Phil was born an avian, but used to have wings that matched his hair color. When he took on the 'Angel of Death' title, Kristen turned his wings black and his facial feathers to match. He loved the color change, as it felt much more fitting than the golden sunshine blonde feathers did.

Wilbur yawned, and quickly fell asleep in Phil's arms. The avian smiled and stood, holding Wilbur against his chest, and took the sleeping boy to his bedroom. Phil kissed Wil's forehead gently.

"Oh I love you so much, Wilbur. I'm so proud of you, my little angel."

...

Phil said he didn't want any more kids.

But when he came across a starving, helpless baby piglin, he couldn't just leave it in the harsh Nether realm. Phil dropped his shulker box full of netherrack and scooped the child up. It was a little piglin hybrid, seeming to be less than a year old. He cooed softly at the little baby, who could barely keep its eyes open.

"It's alright mate...I'll take you home and patch you up."

Phil took off his bucket hat and put it over the piglin, spread his wings, and flew off towards the black and purple Nether Portal that led to his home. He clutched the piglin baby tight as he landed. The avian stepped through the portal and into the overworld, taking note of how the piglin hybrid shivered in his arms.

He swiftly walked into his house, going over to the couch to get a thick blanket to wrap the little guy in. Wilbur sat on the floor, playing with a stuffed orca toy that Phil had won him at a fair.