Oneshots! (Mostly Hermitcraft)

Skulk Wasp [Xisuma]

TW: HORROR (I'm not kidding), brainwashing/mind control, blood, gore, German cussing, censored swear

This story is significantly heavier than other stories in this collection of shorts. If you get even slightly triggered, click off. If you come back later, that's okay, but I don't want you traumatising yourself with this story. It ain't going anywhere.

It's... beautiful. Beautiful and horrifying.

Wait- it's here. It's not supposed to be.

The code isn't working on it. I can't ban it.

Xisuma's mind races as he stares up at the eldritch being approaching him. He's beginning to regret not wearing his armour as he built the new mob farm, the most recent update having killed mobs' ability to spawn on scaffolding. The creature is made of twisting navy vines, with star-like lights speckled across its body. It's vaguely humanoid, with coils of vines serving as legs dragging it along, towering above the Admin by at least a block.

Yes, taking off his armour had been a bad idea. His plain white sleeveless shirt and black jeans won't protect him now. Xisuma draws his sword, his heart pounding as he glances furtively at the ender chest roughly ten blocks away. There's no way he can speedily retrieve a useful item before whatever that is catches up to him. Better to not make any sudden movements.

He's strong, though. He's had to be strong throughout his life. Every hailstone raining on his head – pea-sized or boulder-sized – is something he takes to build himself up. He speaks to code and binary fluently, softly guiding it into its place. Every hailstone carried a lesson, and every lesson was dutifully learned.

Xisuma is always running. He's run his whole life from danger, picking up his life each time it's destroyed, never staying still for long. Hermitcraft is the most stable he's been in years, despite their yearly hops to a new world. He has finally found a sort of security. There is some truth to 'safety in numbers': nothing significant has managed to get past his firewalls.

Until today, apparently. He has the best luck, too. This is a new creature unearthed by Mojang, absent from every physical record he's perused. Bitterness fills his mouth. Years of safety and relative comfort have made him soft. Not good, Xisuma Void. Not good.

The cogs are turning in Xisuma's head, watching the slithering motion of the being's vines. It's composed of skulk tendrils, covering the ground with gelatinous mucus as it travels toward him. Eerie, soul-flame blue eyes stare at him from the convoluted mess of its head, unblinking and unconcerned by the shining netherite blade in his double-handed grip. A shadow develops behind it, slowly inking its way through the world and blotting out the sky.

Xisuma takes a small step backward, shifting his weight onto his dominant foot. He begins shuffling backward slowly, testing each step before trusting himself to it. A tentacle squirms toward him, and he slashes it, splitting it into a fork. The separated ends flail as the horror screeches, strong vibrations rippling through the air. Xisuma stumbles from the impact, his ears ringing from the blast. His hand finds the lid of his ender chest, and he fumbles with it, trying to find the clasp.

It recovers itself, the forked tentacle joined by another. It forces him to jump away from the chest, swinging his sword defensively. The tip of the tentacle falls away, writhing on the ground as it oozes slime. Xisuma takes a step forward, severing both reaching vines with two quick cuts.

The resounding screech knocks him off his feet as he drops his sword, clamping both hands against his head. Too late, he gropes for the hilt as the skulk closes in upon him. A tentacle stops his hand, pinning it to the ground. He tears at it with the opposite hand, getting squelching paste under his fingernails. More vines creep over his body as the monster arrives by his head, its trailing feet and legs wrapping around his body.