Hermitcraft One-Shots

City of the Dead (Song Fic, BTHB) [Wels]

(May 29, 2020)

(Translations are at the end.)
(like always, the repetitive parts are going to be cut out.)

(first time watching and writing Wels and hes already one of my favorites. i watched the three hcs7 episodes and quite a few livestreams, so i think i know his behavior? idk.)

(also thanks for 77k views lol)

Box: Painful Wound Cleaning
Category: none? what even counts as a category? all i know is that this is not angst or fluff...
Warnings:  blood, almost death but not because im not that mean... in this book anyway

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"Not even a week on the server and you're already severely injured?" Joe asked, grabbing yet another healing potion. Wels chuckled with a pained grimace, grabbing the potion from Joe's bloodstained fingers. The poet tried to lift Wels up, but his grasp was slippery due to the blood coming from his side.

"Whoops?" Wels said. The knight yelped, more blood dripping from his armor. Joe sat him up against the soft mycelium, concern growing as more blood seeped through both sets of his armor. Both men could just barely see the arrow sticking out of the armor. Wels managed to get his diamond chestplate off, only to stare at the iron part underneath with a groan. It was tightly strapped to him with leather straps that were a pain to remove.

He started fiddling with the leather as Joe slid an iron sword out of his inventory. Wels held back a flinch, hoping- knowing Joe wouldn't harm him.

"May I?" Joe gestured to the straps Wels struggled with. The knight mentally released a sigh of relief. He shifted, yelping as pain flared in his side.

"Yeah, please," Wels breathed, letting his arms flop to the floor. Joe quickly sliced through the leather with his sword, taking the iron chestplate off as carefully as he could. Grimacing at the vast amount of blood, the poet examined the wound. The arrow had managed to dig into Wels' side, going under both chestplates.

Joe pressed a cloth on the area around the wound. Wels hissed, face scrunching up in pain as he clawed at the ground. The poet muttered an apology, not backing off. He gently cleaned the blood around it, leaning forwards to examine the arrow.

"This... this must have been a glitch or something. Didn't know mobs could get their hands on poison-dipped arrows," he said.

I'm scared of what is in my head
What's inside my soul
I feel like I'm running, but getting nowhere

"Can you do anything about it?" Wels' voice jumped a few octaves. Joe nodded, adjusting himself to a kneeling position.

"I'm not supposed to take the arrow out because it clots the blood, but if I give you the healing potion right away, you won't loose much blood."

Without any warning, Joe quickly slid the arrow out of his body. A scream tore from Wels' throat as he tried to jerk away. Joe kept him in place with a tight grasp, forcing a potion to his lips.

Fear is suffocating me
I can't breath
I feel like I'm drowning, I'm sinking deeper

"No no no no no no," Wels cried, voice escalating in volume. His throat suddenly seemed thick and clogged. A gasp for air sounded, but it seemed like no air could be breathed-

"Wels, stay still, I can't-" Wels cut him off with another scream of pure terror. "Are you scared of dying?" The continuing of his thrashing only confirmed Joe's statement.

Wels' movement started slowing, the edges of his vision started to fade to black.

White light fades to red
As I enter the City of the Dead