The roots of love, the foundation of passion
The incredible romantic tension between Bloomberg the tree and Tom the boulder
They sat in silence, in the endless expanse of Hasbro’s discarded show assets warehouse. They had done so for the best part of two years now. Sure, the lucky boulder had had a little vacation not too long ago, but he had been returned here after a single scene.
They had quickly settled back into their routine of motionlessness and silence.
Bloomberg had been thankful that his companion had been placed back in the same spot, right under and to the right of him. When Tom had been borrowed, the tree had quickly come to feel a sort of unease, a longing for… something he couldn’t quite identify right away. He had grown restless, nervous even. At times, he had found himself positively cranky, growing his roots in a downright brutish fashion. He had caught glimpses of the parasprites eyeing him with caution, no doubt intimidated by his horrid disposition, the anger simmering right under his bark.
But when Tom came back, everything just clicked back into place, as if by magic.
It had taken him a long time to realize it, and even longer to come to terms with it, but Bloomberg now knew deep inside that he had begun to harbor feelings for the boulder under him.
He did not know how these feelings had materialized. Trees were naturally inclined toward stability; the same surroundings, the same location, the same winds every day, every action a repetition of the previous day’s activities. Trees thrived on that. He had thought that, after these two years of proximity, he had simply grown used to the presence of the large hunk of stone; that his restlessness in his absence stemmed from nothing more than a dislike of change.
But he had not thrown such a fit when he had been placed here in the first place, which was an admittedly much bigger change in his life. There was something more to this. There was something deeper.
The tree stood still, with very little wind to move his branches. Iron Will was shouting something in the distance. The boulder remained absolutely immobile.
That was it, wasn’t it? Bloomberg simply knew it to be true. If there was one thing he liked about Tom, it was his stability. From the very first day, Tom had been a beacon of stillness, a true example of unflappable immobility. When the workers moved Tom a few feet to make room for him, the boulder didn’t react. When Bloomberg had been unceremoniously planted next to him, Tom still didn’t make a sound or move a mineral.
He had always admired the boulder’s stalwartness, his resolute refusal to give in to the pressure. Tom was simply there, as he had been, as he was, as he would always be. His haven in the storm, his literal rock to hang on to in the roiling turmoil of his own minimal movements. A boulder to lean on. Tom was there for him, a true friend, an inspiration, and, maybe, hopefully, something more. Love at first sight? Maybe, if any of them had had eyes to begin with.
At first, it was nothing more than companionship, he thought. A close friend with whom to share a common interest in immobility. They were both there, close to each other, partaking in the same inactivity with the same passion. It was only natural that they would bond. But even in his wildest dreams, Bloomberg could never have foreseen just how strong that bond would grow.
It was love. Pure and simple. A love stronger than any of them, than even both of them combined. Though they could not move, would not move, their attraction was as irresistible as gravity itself.
He could only hope in his tightest knots that it was reciprocated.
Even if, on the outside, Tom the boulder looked as serene and calm as usual, his insides were torn.
His little trip to the Everfree Forest to plug a hole in the ground had put a lot of things into perspective, and he had been torn by these feelings ever since. He was a simple roughly-faceted block of stone, and as such, his emotions and thoughts were often just as simple. Yet still, this short time away from his friend Bloomberg had stirred a lot of complicated ideas in his core.
On one ore, he had spent a lot of time with his companion these past two years, and though he had been slow to admit it, he rather enjoyed the presence of the apple tree. His time away from him had shown him exactly how much, though. After being craned out of the warehouse, he had found his thoughts constantly returning to the tree, even despite his best absence of efforts. He simply could not stop thinking about Bloomberg, how his branches swayed gently over him, how one of his roots had reached his stony bottom some months ago, sending nonexistent chills running through his granite heart.
He had denied it, rationalized it as a simple matter of growth and natural processes being carried out, but he couldn’t stop thinking that it might have been a deliberate act by the tree. And, by taking some time away from him, had come to realize that, were that the case, he wouldn’t really mind.
Bloomberg was always growing in his mesmerizingly twisting ways, spreading his branches over Tom, as if trying to build him a home. The boulder could not-stare at the limbs for days on end. He was continuously fascinated by the tree’s suppleness and growth, and if having minerals leeched from his underside meant he could be a part of this process, he was fine with it.
The apple tree had a wild side, an invigorating breath of vitality that Tom had never experienced in his long non-life. Bloomberg wasn’t afraid to move, to change. He had a courage, a passion for action, a love of life that Tom simply couldn’t match. And the boulder loved him all the more for it.
Yes, Tom loved Bloomberg, it was now so clear to him. In the deepest of his geodes, in the purest crystals of his core, he knew it.
But on the other ore, he had seen the other trees, those who grew in the Everfree, and had been reminded of the eons-old feud between their two families. The trees grew over the rocks, as if taunting them, lording over them with their endless growth. They crushed rocks with their roots, like savages, asserting their dominance on Tom’s helpless brethren. In turn, the rocks formed mountains, growing ever taller above the trees before crushing them too under rockslides. It had been that way since the dawn of time; an unending, bitter war. What would his brothers think of him falling in love with one of their sworn enemies? Would they disown him? Was it so wrong to love a tree?
Still, seeing all those other trees, and noticing how he felt nothing for them only served to remind him how special Bloomberg was to him. He really did love the beautiful, tall, proud apple tree.
But how could his feelings ever be reciprocated? He, an insultingly simple aggregate of quartz, feldspar and biotite, with trace amounts of iron and silica, was pining for a disquietingly complex assemblage of carbon-based cellulose compounds? It was unheard of! How could their love ever truly blossom? He was too simple, too rough and brutish for such a sophisticated and vibrant being. Bloomberg had no reason to go for him; he could have anything else he might want. The world was his, and Tom was only a lowly rock, not worth the magnificent tree.
He would never dare. It simply couldn’t work between them. He could only imagine all too well the apple tree’s roots wrapping around him over decades of rejection before their coils crushed him to dust as a final act of revenge, revenge for daring to hope to love a being so high above his class. Even if they found a way to exist together, Bloomberg would only be wasting his potential on a non-being who couldn’t hope to not-live up to his potential. Tom would only weigh him down in love and in life. He could never condemn one he loved to such a fate.
As Tom remained lost in his dark broodings, Lightning Dust passed overhead, shuffling Bloomberg's branches with a wild gust of wind. The movement caused one of his leaves to detach, sending it spiraling down. As it slowly tumbled through the air, flipping, turning and fluttering, an unseen force seemed to sway its path until it landed directly atop Tom.
And in that instant, he knew. With Bloomberg’s branches hanging above him in silence, in communion, in perfect harmony, Tom knew that they could make it work. That they were made for each other. He became once again filled with peace. They were together, and they would stay that way for hundreds of years.
Because they loved each other.
From atop the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, inside a large barrel full of Rarity’s old dresses perched over a pile of unused background ponies, Gilda interrupted her intense game of connect-four with Nightmare Moon to shout:
“Oh will you two dweebs just get a room already? Geez!”
Author's Note
Dafuq am I even doing with my life anymore?
If this thing ever gets featured, ten thousand puppies will die of shame. They will put their little paws over their eyes to uselessly shield them from my idiocy, whimper once, and then drop. We will all be responsible.
