Hermitcraft Oneshots

Only mortal

This one starts off good but then gets kinda shit ngl.

H e a v y angst warning for hanahaki, slight graphic description, and all that good stuff. Bear that in mind.

Song is 'let you down' by NF
———

Pathetic.

That's what Tango was.

Pathetic.

Like a lovesick teenager, stomach full of butterflies, head full of air, heart full of meaningless hope.

He was such a fucking idiot, he let his emotions get the best of him and now he was paying for it.

How poetic.

He bent himself over a toilet, throat on fire as he hacked and wheezed, petals of an inky black hue sputtering from his mouth.

Inside the toilet bowl stood lone petals, parts of true flowers that had come uninvited into his stomach, blossoming and blooming, eventually finding their way out of his system as he dry heaved.

Wither roses, covered in blood, taking him within an inch of his life every time they decided to make an appearance.

Hanahaki disease.

A surprisingly uncommon infliction, which was currently running rampant through Tango's system.

It stems from a crush.

Fall hard enough for someone, you start coughing up their favorite flower.

If there was one reason to hate Impulse, Tango thought, it was his taste in flowers.

While Tango admitted he did like wither roses, his impression of them was thoroughly soured as a cluster of thorns scraped through his throat- threatening to pierce through his neck.

Even as they clawed their way up his stomach, the wither effect ran through Tango's veins, his skin growing steadily grayer as the life was squeezed out of him.

For fucks sake, was this really how he'd go?

No, no, no, if he could just grab his commun-

Hack!

Wheeze!

A few more petals clawed at his throat- aching, begging- to be let free, the potent magic inherent to the buds ripping through his senses, a wave of indescribable pain eating him alive.

It was like he had drunk acid, and it was slowly gnawing it's way through his body, melting his insides, pain he had hoped he would never feel to tearing at every inch of his body.

If this kept up, he would die.

C'mon, communicator, don't fail me now. Tango thought as the next wave of petals brewed in his stomach.

It took a couple of clicks, but hands shaking he brought the phone like object to his ear.

Ring..