Hermitcraft Oneshots

Silenced

Song is Idle Worship by Paramore, doesnt really have anything to do wiv the story but eh.

Tyrannical scar!!!

Tw: kidnapping ish, abuse, slight gore.
---

"I didn't do anything!"

Mumbo's voice was rubbed as raw, coarse and painful to even hear, but Scar was having none of it.

The brit dragged his wrists forwards against the shackles that bound him, solid metal, slick with blood and torn pieces of flesh.

His hair lay disheveled and in pieces, the black strands slicked down and matted to his forehead. It had rained earlier, sheets of water gliding through the sliver of a window at the top of his cell to wet his body. He hadn't changed out of his suit- though his coat had been long discarded- and the fabric was soaked through, bringing a perpetual chill to his body.

He tugged violently once more at the restraints, the sound of metal chains against metal chains echoing through the stone walled compound.

"Y- You have to bel- believe me Scar!"

A sob hiccuped through Mumbo's throat, and he would have teared up had his body had any water in it.

He was cold, hungry, tired, wet, dehydrated, and innocent. One hundred percent innocent.

What couldn't Scar see?!
---

Deception rules the world.

No matter how smart someone is, they can always be fooled.

When Scar had first learned this, he decided he didn't want to be fooled. And the only way to do that was to fool everyone else.

So he learned.

He learned how to spin and intricate web of words, thick enough and sticky enough to drown in. How to wrap even the strongest of minds around his pretty little fingers, and front an air of idiocy so no one was the wiser.

After all, who would expect sweet little Scar to he capable of all he was.

A flutter of his lashes, a seductive swipe of tongue, a delicate giggle that shattered stars, all intentional. All part of the image of perfection he had created, an image carefully molded and shaped, an image made for one specific purpose: to rule the world.

For who was fit to rule if not him? Everyone else was an ant compared to him; spineless, brainless, drones, manipulated like stones in a rock garden- shaped by his hands into perfection. Only he could bring light to the cold, dark, world. Only he could bring fire to the cold, boneless masses. Only he could lead.

How dare these.. these.. mushroom lovers, these idiotic, these blind.. fools say otherwise!

How dare they insinuate he was anything less than perfect, anything less than the immaculate god he had carved himself into.

They were nothing smarter than the mushrooms they so valued. Flawed, putrid,

Imperfect.

And imperfections must be eliminated.

"Mumbo, its been fourteen days, are you ready to comply yet?"

"I'm.. not.. the.. lead- leader.. you- you have to.." coughs interrupted Mumbo's words, his voice gritted out over sandpaper, "please.. I'll do.."

His hands flexed in the chains that bound him as he tried one last desperate pull- but to no avail. He was weaker than weak, and could do nothing but take it as Scar delivered a kick to his gut.

"Pig. You'll break soon enough."

"Ther- theres nothing to break! I- I don't know- know anything- I- I- I promise-"

There was an air of desperation to Mumbo's voice, a tone so sincere Scar himself could have used it.

But of course, Scar wouldn't be deceived. He was too smart to be tricked, no!

"Pity, see you in.. three days, say?"

"Scar! Wait! Pleas.."

But it fell on deaf ears.
---

Scar crossed one leg over another, a patient yet concerned look on his face as he listened to Tango and Xisuma speak on the vault heist.

"I see, I see, well, I'm glad everyone made it out okay."

"And um, Scar, theres one more thing.. Xisuma, you want to..?" Tango was more than hesitant, but withholding information would only make the situation worse.

Xisuma gave a curt nod, producing a pristine white business card from his inventory, "we found this with the diamonds." He slid the cars against the table finish, carefully watching Scar's expression.

Scar read the card with a neutral expression, but a few seconds after he finished, he started smiling. It was a tense, unfeeling smile, cold, yet pure. Absolute in its emotions.

"Oh, darlings, this.." despite his cool smile, Scar's eyes burned- burned. Hot enough to turn what he looked to to plasma, hot enough to set the room ablaze with the intense passion, hatred, dusted as gold flecks in his emerald eyes.

"I see. Yes. Thank you for bringing me this."

The mayor's fingers were tense as he pressed the card back on the table.

Do you hear the people sing?

It read.

And in fact, Scar did.

It was an ugly, imperfect melody, a coffee stain on the beautiful sheet music of hermitcraft.

A mushroom-shaped blemish that threatened to block out the warming rays of Scar's rule.

He heard the people sing.

And he decided they needed to be silenced.
---

Kind of disorganized ikkkk

Probably no pt 2 cuz im not motivated/don't have any ideas.

If any of y'all want to continue this, you can tho!!! Just @ me n give credit.

Also, we're creeping up on 60k reads, which just ???? Tysvm!

Also yes le mis reference

-yours, bipolar lookin ass