Tommyinnit Oneshots

As the Sun Goes Down

Fundy stared out at what was left of L'Manberg, or Manberg as President Schlatt called it. The sun was sinking below the horizon. The citizens were settling down for the night, preparing dinner for their families while the children studied for their schoolwork. Fundy was half tempted to wish he was a part of the schoolchildren, barely stopping himself from hoping he would wake up tomorrow without any responsibilities. Fundy pushed those thoughts aside immediately as they sprang upon him like a coyote preying on a fox. He had a purpose here and an important job. If he suddenly left, guilt would follow him as he thought about all the people he was leaving behind with the problems he had yet to solve.

Speaking of problems to be solved, Fundy turned back to his desk to stare at the papers left on it. He turned them over, looking at the ones at the bottom before dropping them all back down. He sighed bitterly. Ever since the election, vegetation had been dying. Farmers and scientists agreed the plants had symptoms of not getting any sunlight, but that couldn't be the case because the fields were planted in increasingly brighter areas. And it wasn't like the plants were dying from not getting enough sunlight, it was because they weren't getting any, which was completely false. Fundy was told to solve the problem, but he couldn't figure out anything. He tried greenhouses, different fertilizers, different crops, and tried in many different fields. The plants weren't accepting the sunlight placed on them. Fundy had long since given up on natural growth, and the crops people bought were being harvested under artificial lighting.

Fundy didn't let the problem end there, however. He needed to permanently solve it. Farmers were rapidly losing money, and the economy wasn't the best after recently coming out of war and being run by Schlatt's expensive tastes. Fundy had been experimenting with the plants, using potions and Mobs to try and genetically engineer a better plant. No matter what he did, the plants did not take the sunlight to use in photosynthesis. They were killing themselves. It was like every plant had the same mutation that messed up how they made food.

Fundy's door opened to reveal a chicken hybrid with small, pale yellow wings sprouting from his back. Quackity had discarded his suit jacket, but his navy blue beanie was covering his dark hair. He looked tired and frustrated, throwing down a notepad on Fundy's coffee table before tipping over on his couch, body stretching out in what should have been an uncomfortable position. Quackity opened one eye lazily at Fundy, "Any luck on your end?"

"I've been thinking about the basics, and it simply doesn't make sense. The sun is right there! Why aren't the plants eating it up? I've done everything. I've tried every experiment, some a tad inhumane, but nothing is working," Fundy sighed dejectedly, leaning back in his chair as allowed himself to relax. He was tempted to take a cigarette, but a habit like that would remind him way too much of his exiled father and uncle, and Fundy wasn't ready to address his personal problems. "What about you?"

"This is the tenth case of rickets and osteomalacia. People are showing up at my office, saying they aren't getting enough vitamin D. I tell them to go outside more, but I have four farmers who spend their time in the fields and one merchant who has been here for a week or so. They are literally outside. What has happened to Manberg? Why can't anything absorb the sunlight? It's like it isn't even there," Quackity complained, sitting up with tense muscles as he opened the folder, spreading papers out.

"When did this all start?" Fundy asked himself quietly. He knew the answer. It was the election. Since it was logically impossible, Fundy realized it might have been a curse or divine punishment. "Either your fiance didn't sacrifice to the right gods or Dad and Uncle T cursed us. It was probably both knowing all three of them."

"Hey," Quackity warned with a bite in his words and venom in his tone. Fundy held his hands up to show innocence, though he wasn't sure if this was about Fundy dissing Schlatt or Tommy, since Quackity was close to both but wasn't on good terms with either of them. "I had a theory I wanted to run by you though, Fox boy." Fundy nodded but cringed at the nickname, his fox tail flicking to the side to show discomfort. "When you think of the sun, what do you think of?"

Fundy raised an eyebrow, but decided to humor Quackity. "Warmth. A giant ball of gas in the sky. Summer. Spring. Plants. Life giver. Fire. That sort of thing."

Quackity nodded, like he expected that answer. Fundy supposed he had. It wasn't a creative look on the sun. Fundy said what literally anyone would have said. What could he say? His dad was the poet. Fundy was more like his blunt, simple talking mother, Sally. "What do you think of when you think of Tommy?"

"Is this some sort of therapy session?" Fundy rolled his eyes, but Quackity's serious look made him continue with his words without joking. "Cursing. Blonde. Brash. Energetic. Bold. Everywhere he shouldn't be. What is this all for?"

Quackity sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Tommy is like the sun, we can agree on that, right? Both are overbearing, bright, golden, and the highlight of most people's lives while being the bane of their existence. I always thought of Tommy like fire. He tended to burn people when they got too close, but keep a safe distance, he was warm and endearing. More than that, he supported life, he made people care." Quackity gave a quiet sigh. "Philza is an immortal. He lived in hardcore words for fun. Technoblade is the Blood god. He has voices and battle prowess. Wilbur, a human, fucked a salmon, and had a fox, that is a literal miracle of genetic odds. They all are divine, so why can't Tommy be? What Tommy is tied to the sun, the metaphorical embodiment of it, and when we sent him away, the effects of the sun disappeared. We have the real, genuine sun up there, but the life bringing sun is now in Pogtopia."

"I suppose that makes sense. We can't prove it until he comes back, which will be never if Schlatt has his way. The next president might pardon them, but we can't be sure since Dad and Uncle T have made a few enemies in Manberg," Fundy said quietly. "What do we do about our problems, though? Do we just ask Uncle T for sunlight back? He might not even be aware of his power. If he is, he'll use it as a bargaining chip, so we can't exactly tell him about it. He's power hungry."

"No, Wilbur is power hungry and insane. Tommy is just loyal enough to follow Wilbur down that path," Quackity said and it was Fundy's time to growl. His lips snarled back and his ears pitched forwards while his tail flicked out. Quackity's wings bristled but he merely shrugged an apology. Fundy settled back down. He had never been that defensive about his family before, willing to show his animalistic traits to assert dominance. Maybe Tommy being gone did more than destroy plant life and get people sick. Manberg had been gloomy under Schlatt's reign. Tubbo was planning a festival to lift spirits, but Fundy knew that it wouldn't be worth it in the end. Until Tommy was back, the sun wouldn't shine.