Work Text:
Under The l’mantree
When he was young, fundy sat under the lmantree. He thought it was the largest tree in the world. It’s large sturdy brown branches with thick bark stripes that smelt of forest was his comfort. He sat under the tree almost everyday, marvelling at its beauty. The bright green leaves left him awestruck as sunlight peaked through the shade.
This tree was his childhood, his comfort.
And As long as it stood lmanburg was truly home
Under this tree he played, he ran and chase around trying to catch bees with tubbo. He played with wooden swords with Tommy, the swords weren’t sharp back then.
He ate nikis baking, new recipes every day. Warmth of fresh bake cookies filled his mind and mouth.
He played and bonded with jack, the cyborg he never let catch a break
Under this tree he admired his father. He watched intently as his fathers hands grazed over the chords and made a fluid tune. Watching his father smiled and speak with such admiration of him made him feel safe.
He admired the tree like he did his father. It was sturdy and hard to knock over, nothing could blaze it’s path to glory.
He watched it grow strong and tall. As long as it stood lmanburg would be home.
As the nation grew so did he, but the tree always remained. As he grew he would sit under the shade of the tree, even if nobody else was watching.
The sun that would rise and fall over the horizon kept him at ease under its large branches. The grass, soft and green was a comforting sensation under his paws.
As the months passed and he grew more the tree did too. He started getting taller, and realized more. He joined the election as a bet against his father. His ‘rebellious faze’ had begun. He had never thought anyone but his father would win. Fall came and the leaves started falling from the tree
manburg came and went, and fundy grew taller. He watched as the flag burned bright with sparks and embers amd smiled as it burned to ash. He watched his friends go silent and tensions grew high. He realized how thin the bark truly was on the tree now.
Pogtopia was dark, it reeked of gunpowder and cigarette smoke and has a lingering Oder of deep cave that wouldn’t shake from his mind even on the surface. He watched as silence became the new loudest sound and an echo became conversation. He would leave back to manburg and his home. His fathers old guitar sat collecting dust in a corner. Longing for something to grasp he tried to play it. It was out of tune and the chords felt wrong. He realized Only one hand could truly play it.
November 16 and he truly saw his father once again. But this time he did not look at fundy with unconditional love and admiration. He looked to lmanburg with a hunger. A passion for fire, an addictive desire to burn his bridges. He saw his father go mad and fall, like icarus from the sun. He watched as his old home was destroyed with the click of a button. The tree remained intact but fundy couldn’t help but see that the grass surrounding the tree was starting to die.
He watched his father get a sword through the chest, at the hands of his own grandfather who he had never met. He watch and heard the manic laugh of his that once was a songbird voice. He watched the sword plung through his heart and his father slump into the arms of the green clad man. Tears trickled down his face but for some reason he just felt as hollow as the ground below him now. The tree lost leaves, they drop in winter.
He watched lmanburg be rebuilt on stilts. “New lmanburg” run by a boy put in a suit and forced to be an adult too soon. He watched everyone who once built the nation turn away from its once walls. The wooden structure would never be home to him, just a frugal attempt at sanctuary. His real home was the grassy fields surrounding the tree. Seeing a lake in a crater where his home once was always reminded him of what he had lost.
Ghostbur wasn’t his father, just a shell of a man who once was. But he wasn’t his father,
He wasn’t the man who stood tall and sang grace in his tone. This spirit was just pure innocence. He couldn’t hold a tune. He tried to grow a connection with fundy, and at one point fundy wanted it. But he knew it was a waste. His father was gone, he left the day shlatt won the election, he was gone the day the flag burned. His father was gone when he realized he was growing and the grass was dying.
He watched and was roped into the downfall of what was left of lmanburg. Watched as techno was crushed and reborn, watched as dream and techno plotted to destroy his home.
He watched as time and time again, he realized he would never truly find home. He didn’t want to rely off empty promises and a false hope of security. He was sick of it.
The tree bark no longer smelled of sweet forest but now rather sickening grass and moss and a rancid Oder of decay. It no longer lingered in his mind
On January 6 he watched lmanburgs final song be sung. An errie tune that never hit a note. He watched as the crater blew with ash and dust as withers hummed with anger. He smiled in the chaos, a bittersweet smile.
He watched as his lasting memories went up in smoke. In a way he saw this as a new hope, one not set on loud empty words. A new start
Looking around the chaos, He watched as a pink haired lady walked over the grass and rocks with a torch. Running up to the woman he placed a hand over her shoulder. They walked down the grassy path they once followed to their old picnic spot when he was a child.
In the heat of the chaos fundy sat under the tree once again. Taking in his surroundings one last time. The dry grass no longer was a comforting sensation under his paws. The tree bark no longer smelt of forest. The leave no longer bright, but crumpled and brown.
This tree no longer stood tall or proud. This tree no longer reminded him of his childhood.
When he was young, fundy sat under the lmantree. He thought it was the largest tree in the world. It’s large sturdy brown branches with thick bark stripes that smelt of forest was his comfort. He sat under the tree almost everyday, marvelling at its beauty. The bright green leaves left him awestruck as sunlight peaked through the shade.
Looking to the destruction of what once was home, he stood up from the old spot under the tree.
He glanced at its branches, once strong now brittle. He looked out to the destruction of what once was his home
Niki squeezed his hand in reassurance and gave him a smile. It was one of passion, the same one he saw on wilburs face the day he died.
Looking forward giving the tree a final stare he stood full and proud.
Under the lmantree fundy looked to this tree and he finally realized
This tree was never tall, it was just the wrapped perception of an ignorant child, too blessed by innocence to realize it’s actual size
And as it burned, he finally let the tree fall.
o7