Hermitcraft Oneshots

Hermit challenges

He had almost broken the spawner with his hands when a spider latched itself onto his back. He screeched like a maniac, throwing the spider off his back.

It landed on the wall, where it hopped back on its feet and started back towards him.

Grian went back to punching the spawner when a spider latched onto his arm. He quickly threw it off, only to have another latch onto his leg.

Each time one landed, he lost a heart, and it was starting to show. Scratches littered his back, arms, and legs.

He shook of the spider on his leg and stomped on it, it shattered like glass, only it's mob drops remaining.

He killed a few more spiders and was finally able to break the spawner. However there was one spider left in the pit, and it killed him seconds after he broke the spawner, much to the enjoyment of the spectators.

When Grian returned for his stuff, his friends were no where to be seen. They had ditched again.

He had faced his fears and embarrassed himself, and his friends hadnt even bothered to stick around.

It must have been reprimand for all the stupid jokes he had pulled in the past. Whatever, it's not like anyone cared. He didn't care, not anymore, and his friends certainly didn't.

That night he flew home, and spent some time in the shower.

He had built it with his house, and it had a peaceful feel to it.

There were slabs of wood on the floor that the water drained out of, and it was nice and spacious, with a small glass panel giving view to the jungle outside.

He examined his body, it was littered in spider bites, burns, scratches and bruises- parting gifts from the previous hermit challenges.

While you always respawn, scars and blemishes remained. Grian had quite a few from a few challenges in the past, and the only way to get rid of them was a notch Apple.

He looked with a bit of dismay at the bony structure of his body, at the littered scars. At one point he was healthy, he wasn't so skinny, his skin only had a few scratches from elytra incursions.

But now? He hardly recognized himself.

What had happened to him?

He knew. Deep down he knew.

The question was if he had the strength to admit it.

That night he sat criss cross on his bed, looking blankly at his sword hanging on the wall in front of him.

It would be so easy to grab it.. to grab it and just..

———

'Grian died' The simple text read.

Usually that meant someone had been /killed, but the only one with the powers to do that would have been Xisuma or Grian himself. Xisuma wouldn't have done it unless Grian asked him to, and Grian wouldn't have done it unless..

Mumbo gasped, glad he had decided to stay up late that night.

He flew straight over to Grians hobbit hole, having dropped everything he was doing.

When he stumbled inside, he was horrified to see Grian, in his night clothes, sobbing on the ground.

Cries of pain and sorrow bubbled from his chest, tears matted his cheeks, his wrists were bloody, as he dragged his bloody blade across them. The boy sat fractured, in such a broken state it hurt Mumbo to see it.

Mumbo quickly pried the sword from Grians hands and tossed it aside, pulling Grian into a hug.

"Jus- just go.. you- you don't.." Grian couldn't even finish his sentence, stuttering and crying into Mumbos shirt.

"Shh, Gri. It's ok, it's ok." Mumbo tried to sound reassuring, but it was evident that he was worried. Who wouldn't be?

Grian started to bang his hands against Mumbos chest, weakly attempting to break out of the hug. In response, Mumbo tightened his hug.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.." Mumbo murmured. "I'm such an idiot, I shouldn't have pressured you into doing those challenges."

Grians sobbing died down enough for Mumbo to ask a few questions, and then the two just talked.

For hours.

Grian spilled all of his problems onto Mumbo, and he just listened.

It was nice to have someone to talk to.

Mumbo comforted Grian, patching up his wrists and giving him a notch Apple to get rid of the scars.

It was a peaceful few hours, a feeling that was foreign to Grian.

He couldn't help but feel a bit ok, in fact he felt very ok. And the next time he didn't want to do a challenge, Mumbo backed him up.

———
Please remember that you are not alone, there's always someone. The US suicide hotline number is 1-800-273-8255, and my DM's are always open.

Anyway, if anyone has requests I have nothing but time. I'd be more than happy to take some.

-yours, The Author