Hermitcraft Oneshots

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

AN: So, you know how winter is supposed to be filled with cocoa, snowball fights, and gifts with your loved ones? Yeah, I'm guilty of writing that cliché snowball fight fic, because, lets admit it, they're the best. However .....

Yeah, its just angst. Happy holidays! :D

TW: Death, non-graphic injuries(burns)

There's a grief that can't be spoken

He'd returned to the shopping district to find chaos. Which was normal of course. What wasn't normal was the lack of people. Normally the area was at least somewhat busy, but it was completely deserted. Whistling a tune, the blue creature in the white hoodie continued on his walk. The last time he showed up he'd been aggravating several HEP members by placing mycelium specifically encroaching on their land. His friends had agreed that he should lay low for a while in order to avoid trouble.

There's a pain goes on and on

It wasn't until he had made his way to the resistance announcement board that he realized why.

Empty chairs at empty tables

A piece of monogramed stationary declaring the capture and execution of the known Mycelium Resistance members. Permanent execution. That meant they had used lava. The only way to respawn from a fiery demise was with an admin's help. Unfortunately, most of the admins on the server were on HEP's side or neutral. And he knew this. Because he went to each and every one of them and begged them to bring the hermits back, even the HEP members.

Now my friends are dead and gone

He was able to piece together some of what happened. Bdubs had interfered with the pearl system so when someone pressed the button all members were pulled from wherever they were. From there, Jevin had no idea what exactly had occurred. What he did know was that resurrecting someone who had died to lava was next to impossible. 

His fellow inactive resistance member asked a favor of a certain zombie who managed to convince one of the neutral admins to help. When he attempted to bring back Mother Spore, all that appeared in the bed was a horrible burnt carcass that wailed in pain, nothing like the cheerful man who had led them. The slime quickly reached for a sword, intending to stop the suffering, sealing his friend's fate.

Here they talked of revolution

He visited the original meeting room a day before it was set on fire along with the barge above it. It crumbled to ash far easier than expected for a craft surrounded by water. The pollutants from all of the resistance members shops turned the sky red as he sat with a pink jacket-clad hermit where two of their fellow resistance members had spied on a HEP meeting. Mother Spore had come back to the base with the exhilarated expression he always had after a dangerous flight and rose thorns in his elytra. But this time the two just sat on the cozy roof, using the wool placed on top to hide as their shops burned.

Here it was they lit the flame

The secret base, secret no longer, had transformed. The pure gleaming quartz and purple mycelium that had once made up the immense base had been replaced with stone and grass. A place intended for revolution had become part of what it worked to destroy. Even the mooshrooms left behind had been sheared after their sheep counterparts were all ruthlessly killed. The grain field was still trampled.

Here they sang about tomorrow

A glorious mushroom castle, surrounded by water on all sides that glistened in the setting sun. Beautiful on the outside but deadly on the inside thanks to a new member. The slime had missed the first meeting in the new base, but he'd spent hours sitting outside near a firepit as Ren played his guitar while Grian and Impulse sang a song from their hippie days in the last world. Even the scowl on the Goatman's face disappeared as he listened to the familiar tune, even though there seemed to be someone missing from his side. They never talked about that.

But tomorrow never came

But now the castle was gone. It had been razed to the ground by the nearby laser less than a day after the final meeting was called. All of the resistance members were dead or in hiding. And as Jevin looked out over the shopping district with only ashes as a monument to their revolution; he despaired.