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frozenjokes · 6 months

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CuteGuy Would Prefer Greatly If HotGuy Never Ever Had Any Nice Things, But Especially Not His Good Friend And Roommate Cubfan135 (2/3)

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Grian, as CuteGuy, landed softly on the other side of the parking lot, tucking his wings non-threateningly at his back. Calm. Cool. Relaxed. He hadn’t been home when Cub left to meet HotGuy, but Grian knew well enough Cub would be timely, and with any luck, a little early. With no one in the empty parking lot, Grian wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, but he didn’t have to wait long before he spotted Cub down the street, absorbed in his music as always. Sure enough, Cub didn’t even notice CuteGuy as he entered the parking lot, only spotting him after sitting down on the curb and looking up, presumably for HotGuy.

It didn’t feel tense when their eyes met. Cub didn’t look afraid. Part of Grian was deeply relieved; he cared very little about how the world viewed him, preferring they feared him if they felt anything at all, but.. Not Cub. He didn’t want Cub to be afraid. The other part of him was worried; did Cub not fear him because he recognized him? Not CuteGuy the villain, but Grian, who he thought was staying out of trouble and getting help- and it wasn’t that Grian wasn’t trying to get help. He was getting better, really! He hadn’t gotten into any fights as ‘Grian’ in weeks- hadn’t gotten arrested in over two months! But no amount of therapy could keep him calm in tense encounters or high stress moments; thinking about how he’d make it right, how he’d get them back later. That did it. Those sentiments brought the air back into his lungs.

“Should I leave?” Cub asked, a healthy caution behind his voice.

“I’d rather you stayed. I don’t want to hurt you,” Grian forced his voice lower as he spoke, hoping Cub couldn’t tell, and cursed himself for not thinking to practice. He sounded stupid. And given the small quirk of Cub’s eyebrow, Grian didn’t sound sincere, either.

“I don’t want to hurt you, either. But I do have pepper spray. Just so you’re aware. And it hurts. I know this from personal experience.” Cub paused briefly in a silent debate with himself, “I was curious. Mistake.”

Grian chuckled, but he couldn’t laugh too hard, not when he was there, and not when he had also pepper sprayed himself in some sort of horrible solidarity. Bad day. Horrible judgment from all sides, mostly because they had no one else to look out for them, literally as well as metaphorically. Top five dumbest things Grian had ever done, for sure. Even thinking about that day was enough to make his skin itch and burn. But there was a fondness there too, the type of fondness you can only achieve by doing something incredibly, irrefutably idiotic with your best friend.

“I’ve been there. Not eager to go back, either, so I’ll keep my distance if that’s what keeps you comfortable. I’d like to sit though, if that’s alright.”

Cub shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“You can say no.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Cub eyed him evenly, not unfriendly as was often assumed about him, but cautious, appraising. It was a little bit funny. Cub looking at CuteGuy, a fairly well known supervillain, the way he’d look at any stranger; gauging intention. Cub didn’t navigate the world under the assumption that everyone was out to get him, but he was also the kind of person that liked knowing, and a Cub in the dark was not a Cub at ease. Grian hoped he’d be able to get Cub to relax with him before HotGuy arrived, but that would be no easy feat, not as CuteGuy. Cub was smart; he probably suspected CuteGuy knew HotGuy was coming. This was not a chance meeting. CuteGuy wanted something. And Cub wasn’t wrong, not really.

“You can,” Grian tried, hoping again he sounded genuine, but in these forced lower tones, it was hard to accurately get the emotions he was aiming for across. Grian wondered if Cub noticed the oddness in his voice, and was immediately sure of the answer. But Cub wouldn’t say a word, not to the avian known for being quick to anger.

“Well in that case, I don’t mind,” Cub said, almost dismissive as he looked back at his phone. Grian couldn’t quite tell if Cub actually did mind or not, but he sat on the curb regardless, not too close, but not far either. Grian winced at the thought of being pepper sprayed. He wouldn’t see it coming, that he was sure of; Cub was very good at concealing his tells. “Just so you know,” Cub continued after a moment, almost thoughtful, “HotGuy will be here soon. I’ve heard you two don’t get along, and, well..” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely, but Grian got the message.

“I don’t know about that,” he said, the line vindictively practiced, and Grian couldn’t keep the smirk off his face, “Heroes are fickle things. I have a feeling HotGuy will be late, if he even shows up at all.”

Cub nodded, though Grian wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. “What’s he up to then, if you know?” His tone was mild, almost monotone, but there was a mutual understanding as to what was going on here. Grian knew better than anyone that Cub knew how to play his cards, and that he wouldn’t sit idly in the dark if he thought he could get away with it. Grian couldn’t remember a time when Cub had judged a confrontation incorrectly, or pushed his luck too far.

“Poultry Man made a bit of a mess on the other side of town. Left a message specifically for HotGuy, and if you didn’t know, HotGuy’s been dying to chat with him. As if Poultry Man would speak to anyone.” Grian laid back across the curb, spreading his wings in the grass. “No need to ask. I was involved, of course. We look out for each other, Poultry Man and I, but I just wanted to make sure you knew exactly where HotGuy’s priorities lie. Believe me when I tell you that you’re far from the only man he’s chasing. In every sense of the word.”

“What did he do?”

“What?”

“Poultry Man? What did he do?” It was a perfectly amicable, almost innocently curious question. Grian knew better than to take Cub at face value, but his facade was rock hard, and Grian had no idea what he was actually feeling.

“Told me he was saving these nails and things, sharp, sturdy stuff, and that he was going to dump a whole bunch of them in various parking lots of government buildings. They’re painted, of course. Like chickens. I don’t know how he was planning on leaving a message for HotGuy, but I’m sure he managed.”

Cub chuckled, which Grian didn’t expect, expecting even less for Cub to look genuinely amused. “I like that guy.”

“You-“ Grian felt his heart stop, or maybe beat faster, “You like Poultry Man?”

“Yeah. I kinda do.” Cub didn’t elaborate. Grian didn’t really expect him too, but he desperately wished Cub would. Well. He’d have to push for answers if he wanted any at all.

“I don’t understand how you can like Poultry Man and HotGuy. They’re like- complete opposites. Egg themed rebellion versus pathetic attention-hungry bootlicking, it’s not anywhere near compatible.”

“I wouldn’t go as far to say that I like bootlickers. I don’t.”

I know you don’t. Words Grian almost said, but couldn’t, so he settled on, “Well, given that’s basically HotGuy’s entire job, you may want to reconsider.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? HotGuy is like the government’s top lap dog! He isn’t even that good at what he does- he’s just got a tragic backstory and a chiseled body, so the whole damn world can’t help but fall for him. He’s going to use you until he gets bored, then dump you, because he’s HotGuy and he can do whatever the hell he wants without paying the price.”

“I just mean that I don’t know. It’s as simple as that. I don’t know him. But I’d like to. We’ll see.”

“You’re going to get hurt.”

Cub threw him a critical side eye, the type of look a winner might wear, the type of look that let Grian know he had made a mistake. Almost agonizingly, Cub did not gloat or hold this victory of gleaned information over Grian’s head; he just sat there, silent, contemplative. He gave Grian nothing. No hints of his thoughts or feelings. Cub knew he didn’t have to. He knew just as well as Grian did that Grian would keep talking, keep losing ground, keep revealing too much. But still, Grian couldn’t stop. It was fine, fine that Cub knew he was emotionally invested in some way, but clearly this wasn’t working, so it was time for a pivot. Throw him off.

“I think you can do better. I think you deserve better. My hands are plenty dirty, but not any more than his.”

Cub blinked, looking up. There were a mix of emotions there that not even Grian could decipher, but the fact that he even bothered to look at all showed interest. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Grian had Cub’s attention now, and he wasn’t about to let go, “You can play with heroes and see where it gets you, or cut the shit and have a little fun. Do you want to play games, or is it easier to believe HotGuy’s any different than me?”

“I don’t think HotGuy hurts people on purpose.”

“How many accidents need to happen before the people he hurts are a product of careless negligence. That’s what he is, Cub, careless. And no matter what he does, no matter how many people die under his watch, he will never be punished.”

“Good point.”

“How does it feel to put your heart in the hands of someone who’s above the law?”

“I think you’re making quite a few assumptions, CuteGuy.”

“I can see where this is going.”

“And you think I’d be better off with you? I don’t believe we’ve met, stranger. If I didn’t know any better, I might think you’re only here to spite HotGuy.”

“The things I’m telling you are true.”

“They are. And I’ll keep them in mind. But I’m not looking to trade out one interest for another, so you don’t have to pretend like you care.” Cub turned back to his phone. Grian gritted his teeth behind closed lips.

“I think you’re cute.” Distantly, Grian heard footsteps, the fast, heavy footfalls of someone running very quickly. Cub heard them too, but he didn’t look up, so Grian didn’t either.

“I’m sure you do,” Cub said.

“I do.”

“Well thanks. I think I’m cute, too.”

“He’ll treat you carelessly.” The footsteps were louder now, quite close.

“I’ll make that judgment for myself.”

“Hey!” HotGuy yelled from the other side of the parking lot, but apparently that was all he had in him, hunching over with his hands on his knees and panting. He jogged the rest of the way, chest still heaving, and spoke as he neared the curb, “Is,” HotGuy had to stop, not having enough air to form the words, “this guy,” another pause, shorter this time, “bothering you?” The last words fell with what looked like a massive effort, HotGuy, hunching again to breathe.

“Not really,” Cub said, not put off in the slightest. Grian didn’t bother to get up, only snorting as HotGuy caught his breath. Though that seemed to set him off, the hero jolting upright to fix Grian with a fiery glare.

“You know, I am fed up with you!”

Grian choked on his own laugh, “Fed up? You’re fed up with me?”

“I am!” if HotGuy understood Grian was laughing about his choice of words, he didn’t show it, “I can not believe you sent me on a wild goose chase tonight, when I told you I had plans! And why- why are you talking like that? You’re going to mess up your throat; I had to take tons of voice lessons to-“

“You know, I think we should go.” Cub stood up, definitive in his tone, but HotGuy didn’t move.

“Where are we going?” Grian asked, and HotGuy seethed; honestly, Grian was having trouble telling if he was legitimately pissed off or not. Cub fixed him with a glare of his own, which Grian was not expecting, and couldn’t stop himself from shrinking under the look.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” HotGuy hissed through gritted teeth, drawing his bow, and at this point, Grian was pretty sure he was actually angry. Cub had backed off considerably at this point, but behind HotGuy, Grian saw him stiffen, a far more real look of terror crossing his face.

“You can show me whatever it is you wanted to later,” Cub insisted, and Grian recognized fear in the way his voice lost all of its edge, but HotGuy clearly didn’t, not even turning around as he nocked an arrow. “No-“

Grian wasn’t about to wait around to find out if HotGuy was actually angry enough to shoot him, launching himself forward off the curb and under the line of fire as the arrow whistled by. He aimed to grapple HotGuy’s legs, but the hero had just enough time to retaliate with a weak kick, sending both of them stumbling in opposite directions.

Grian didn’t have time to look for Cub before HotGuy was closing the distance, and Grian had to roll out of the way to avoid another much stronger kick. He felt the boot graze his feathers, but HotGuy was vulnerable in the follow through, and slow; adrenaline didn’t change the fact he had run quite some distance, and in this state, it wouldn’t be long before he got tired. Grian rebalanced with a few beats of his wings, shooting forward before HotGuy could recover and sinking his claws into the hero’s shoulder pads, hooking his legs around his chest, and battering HotGuy’s head with his wings.

HotGuy yelped, spinning uselessly, but there wasn’t much he could do besides shield his face- at least, that’s what Grian had thought, but then he was falling- they were both falling, and Grian couldn’t even scream when HotGuy crushed him under his weight, knocking the wind cleanly from his chest. Blackness curled over his vision, but a glint of something sharp brought his sight back, just soon enough to see the wickedly barbed arrow in HotGuy’s fist, raised above his head.

“I promised not to shoot you.”

Grian was hardly aware of his own body as he moved, kicking up and connecting with something- he heard the crack of contact, but he didn’t stop moving, flipping back onto his hands and toes, with distance the only thought on his mind.

“FuacKing-“ Grian saw HotGuy out of the corner of his eye, stumbling with his hands over his nose, “Avians. Flexible.” Blood fell from his fingertips; dark blood, always too dark. Grian never loved to see people bleed- it didn’t satisfy him, not like fear, not like bruises, but he especially disliked HotGuy’s blood. It wasn’t right. It looked sick.

HotGuy was breathing hard already, his arms holding a slight shake. Pretty bad, even for a human. Just how far had he run before to tire out so quickly now? But before Grian could make his next move, he was distracted, his eye caught by the lack of a presence, the lack of-

A fist connected with his cheek, and Grian was violently reminded of just how fast HotGuy was, even this exhausted. If not for his wings to balance him, he would have been thrown off his feet, but HotGuy was relentless, throwing punch after punch before Grian could even hope to recover from the first. He ducked sloppily under the second, then the third, but the fourth grazed his mask, and the fifth landed squarely at the side of his head. The sixth was only dodged because Grian stumbled, and Grian didn’t even feel the seventh under his chin before he was nothing.

…

Being something again was more than unpleasant, especially being crumpled in all the wrong ways on the cement ground. Grian struggled to his hands and knees, but when he looked up, HotGuy wasn’t anywhere near him, brows hitched as he stared at his phone and paced.

HotGuy looked up at the movement, looking far more distressed than angry. “Did you tell him- tell him what this was before I got here? Why- why did you tell Poultry Man to- you made me late!”

Grian blinked, first slowly, then faster. His face hurt. Shit, if he had a black eye he was screwed. And then he remembered. Cub was gone.

He was too disoriented to lie. “Didn’t say anything. Just tried to keep him off you.”

A moment of anger flashed across Scar’s face, but it didn’t last, melting back into distress when he looked back down at his phone. “You must have said something. Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you must have- you- Why did I let you ruin this for me!”

Grian grunted, his sense returning just enough to be indignant, “It was your idea, asshole. What, did he figure out this was a set up?”

“He wouldn’t have if you didn’t come early!”

“Whatever.” Grian stumbled to his feet on wobbly legs, trying to keep some amount of his dignity intact, “You’re an idiot and he’s whip-smart. Doesn’t matter what I did, he probably would’ve found you out regardless.”

“What?” HotGuy snarked, “Did you figure all that out in the twenty minutes before I got here?”

Grian couldn’t keep the sigh out of his voice. “Yeah, actually. Played me like a damn fiddle, he did. Couldn’t break through no matter what I did. This was stupid, anyway, but I’m glad I came. I hope he’s mad. Hope he hates you forever.”

“You- you’re so immature! You lost. Feel bad about it.”

“Y’know, I think I’m just going to let you dig your own grave here.”

“I- I don’t want to deal with this right now. I don’t have to deal with this. I’m going home. You suck.” HotGuy dug around in one of his pockets, producing a small envelope, “Take your damn money.”

Grian didn’t think he could get any more surprised. “You’re actually paying me?”

“Take it. And try not to be a pain in the ass next week, so maybe I can pretend like this was worth something.”

Grian stepped forward cautiously, like a mouse to a trap, then snatched the envelope from HotGuy’s hand before the wire could snap down. But HotGuy did not move, eyes glued back on his phone.

Grian reminded himself he did not feel bad before taking off.

Time to check the damage. Not at his apartment of course, no, he had a different location for nights like these. The money couldn’t have come at a better time; he was running out of foundation, and getting low on concealer as well. Given how badly his face ached at every corner, he had a feeling he would be covering up some nasty bruises.

#idiots fuck around and find out #hermitcraft #hermitfic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #cubfan135 #cubfan #grub #cubscar #hotguy #cuteguy #poultry man #grian is cuteguy and poultryman

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skygoldart · 7 months

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This all started as a joke since I started to get into Hot Guy and Cute Guy brain rot over the past week.

I started drawing a comic and that turned into a “hot guy would definitely make a body pillow as merch” and now here we are.

#hotguy #cuteguy #hermitcraft #scar #Grian #there’s a poultryman one too #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft s9 #art #my art #skygoldartwork

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whereisgem · 4 months

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WHEREIS MASTERPOST

A list of all the mcyt "whereis"

Will update!

Under the cut !

1. @where-is-cleo

2. @whereisgem

3. @where-is-cub

4. @whereisrendog

5. @whereisorionsound

6. @where-is-impulsesv

7. @where-is-eloise

8. @whereislaurencezvahl

9. @where-is-vintagebeef

10. @whereissmajor

11. @where-is-welsknight

12. @whereistibbycaps

13. @where-is-ethubs

14. @where-are-the-emperors

15. @whereiskeralis

16. @wherearemogandpix

17. @whereismythicalsausage

18. @whereisinthelittlewood

19. @skizz-in-places-he-shouldnt-be

20. @gtws-in-various-places

21. @where-is-smallishbeans

22. @imp-and-skizz-but-everywhere

23. @whereissmallishbeansandgeminitay

24. @xisumaworldtour

25. @whereiskrow

26. @tango-but-everywhere

27. @where-is-grian

28. @whereisshinyduo

29. @whereisfalsesymmetry

30. @where-did-joe-go

31. @where-is-grains-mending-book

32. @whereisldshadowlady

33. @laurenzside-in-various-places

34. @where-is-jimmysolidarity

35. @whereisthehermitcraftrecapteam

36. @where-is-ethoslab

37. @where-are-cleo-and-joe

38. @whereispearlescentmoon

39. @where-is-bdubs

40. @where-is-xornoth

41. @whereisdesertduo

42. @where-is-goodtimeswithscar

43. @whereisglitchduo

44. @where-is-paper-cub

45. @where-is-mumbojumbo

46. @xbeverywhere

47. @impulsesv-but-everywhere

48. @whereistherealsquiddo

49. @wheres-wormhex

50. @where-is-shubble

51. @places-where-impulse-shouldnt-be

52. @where-is-hcs8-moon

53. @where-is-hotguy

54. @where-is-cuteguy

55. @where-is-olivesleepy

56. @whereiscyansnail

57. @where-is-pink-snail

58. @doc-is-sometimes-in-places

59. @where-is-cherrifire

60. @where-is-wormman

61. @hermitcraft-all-over-the-place

61. @where-is-tanguish

62. @grian-in-a-plethora-of-places

63. @where-is-helsknight

64. @where-is-poultryman

65. @where-is-sausage-supreme

66. @where-is-evil-x

67. @whereisowengejuice

68. @where-is-kenadian

69. @where-is-wato1876

70. @where-is-welstek

71. @technoblade-but-hes-everywhere

72. @whereis-wifies

73. @where-is-the-pesky-snail

74. @whereisrekrap2

75. @where-is-torchy

76. @whereisdualityduo

77. @whereisperlergrian

78. @french-mcyt-are-everywhere

79. @whereisashswag

80. @whereis-jumperwho

81. @whereisprincezam

82. @where-is-reignex

83. @where-is-mogswamp

84. @nosey-neighbours-everywhere

85. @whereiswemmbu

86. @where-is-skipper

87. @whereiskaboodle

88. @wheres-etho

89. @where-could-sky-duo-be

90. @murdercamelinplacesitshouldntbe

91. @whereisecorridor

92. @where-is-tango

93. @where-is-docm77

94. @where-is-zedaph

95. @where-is-joe-hills

96. @whereiskatherine

Missed anyone? Don't hesitate to tell me!

Others! Are you a whereis wanting to join the discord gc? Send me a dm with your user!

#WHEREIS MASTERPOST

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dmwrites · 1 year

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Grian didn’t choose the CuteGuy lifestyle as much as it was thrust upon him. He had made one joke (just one!) about how he could be HotGuy’s sidekick, CuteGuy, and Scar went nuts. Within a week, a shulker box had been delivered to his base, containing some flashy pink clothes, a huge bow with a deadly-looking quiver of arrows, and, most unexpectedly, a bedazzled pink flip phone. There was only one contact in the phone, so, with a sigh, Grian pressed the call button.

“Hello?”

“Scar, what is this?”

“Oh, so you found your CuteGuy readiness package!” Scar gasped excitedly. “What do you think? Do you like my big package?”

“Wording, Scar. And, no, I’m not going to be your sidekick! The CuteGuy thing was a joke, bro.” Grian held up the clothes and looked them over with distain, using his shoulder to prop the phone to his ear. “And pink really isn’t my color, much less hot pink.”

“What do you mean? You’re blonde, you’re basically like a Barbie, you’d totally rock pink!”

“I have an alter ego already, Scar, I don’t need another, much less one that wears… does this shirt have a heart-shaped cutout in the chest? Scar!”

“Oh please.” Scar scoffed. “Do you really think Poultry Man will make a comeback? Let’s all be honest with ourselves now.”

“Hey now, mister ‘HotGuy is like half of my personality’. PoultryMan was the blueprint of superheroes!” Grian put the clothes back in the shulker and closed it firmly. “Scar, this dress up game is going a little too far, don’t you think? There isn’t even a need for HotGuy.”

“You never know.” Scar said in a sing-song voice. “Listen, just keep the shulker and the phone- if I really need a sideki- backup, I’ll call this phone, okay? Please?”

“Fine.” Grian said. “It’s a good thing you’re my friend, or I’d burn all of this.” He hung up the phone and set it down on top of the shulker box. He sighed, shaking his head at the bedazzled and pink nightmare that sat on and in the box before him. He picked the box up and moved it to a shadowy part of his basement. Grumbot looked down at him, lights twinkling in a way Grian took as laughter.

“Listen, Scar never said a thing about me actually picking up the phone, so by technicality, I’m off the hook.” Grian felt a need to explain himself. “If he really wants a CuteGuy so bad, he can get someone else to do it or something. I don’t do sidekick. PoultryMan is main character energy.”

Grumbot just flashed his lights, and Grian wondered if the robot had even been listening at all. He sighed, turning around and gazing out towards the now-dull rift on the other side of the basement.

“Now, to something that really matters, what on earth do I do about this?”

-seven months later-

Much like young Issac Newton theorizing about gravity from an apple falling onto his head, Joe Hills also had an odd series of events happen to him when something big and heavy fell onto his head. But he thought “ouch!” instead of conceptualizing gravity, but that’s besides the point.

“Who is messing with me? Guys, now is not a great time… huh?” Joe looked all around, and his gaze came to rest on a red shulker box on its side, spilling stacks upon stacks of tnt onto the ground. Joe went to pick it up and saw it labeled as Grian’s. “Grian?” There was no answer.

So, Joe did what any good person would do, and gathered up all of the tnt, put it back in the box, and set off for Grian’s megabase, which he had only an approximation of its location. He did manage to find it eventually, or, at least, the amalgamation of Grian and Mumbo’s bases, and he dithered on the spot for a while, trying to remember who’s was which. He eventually just gave up and dove down into what he knew to be Grian’s basement, with that weird robot and rift thing. Luckily, both oddities seemed inactive, and Joe put the shulker box down in the middle of the room, and took out a scrap of paper to leave as a note.

Suddenly, a phone rang, echoing through the basement. Joe looked at the rift, then the robot. Neither seemed to a source of the ringing. It was coming, Joe found out as he looked around, from a bedazzled pink flip phone on top of a pink and horribly dusty shulker box. On instinct, Joe picked it up and answered.

“Howdy, Joe Hills from Nashville, Tennessee here, how can I be of service?”

“Cuteguy, it’s time! The time is nye! I- wait, Joe?”

Joe recognized the dramatic voice on the other end at once. “Scar?”

“Joe?”

“Howdy, Scar!”

“Wait, I thought I gave this phone to Grian.”

“Well, I suppose you did. I just happened to be by, dropping off a shulker box of tnt that he must have dropped by accident onto my head, and I heard the phone-“

“Hold on, I’ll be right there.”

Scar hung up, and Joe pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it in confusion. He considered leaving, he really did, but after a rather arduous debate in his head of how much time he could be spending on his pinball machine instead of waiting on Scar, he ultimately determined that time spent with friends was always time well spent. He had just come to that conclusion, in fact, when Scar crash landed right in front of Joe.

“Ahh! One heart, Joe, one heart.” Scar said, while Joe helped him right his wheelchair. “Now, where’s CuteGuy?”

“Who?” Joe asked. He took stock of Scar’s outfit, which was a tight black unitard looking thing with blue and orange details. “And what on earth are you wearing?”

“Well, I’m HotGuy, of course!” Scar straightened up, taking out a deadly looking bow and pointing it, clearly posing, which Joe took as the cue to make appropriate awed noises. “But every good superhero needs his sidekick, and I was hoping CuteGuy would have gotten my message.” Scar looked around, like this CuteGuy guy would be hiding in a corner or something.

“Scar, there is no one on the server named ‘CuteGuy’- I feel like Xisuma would have told us if he’d whitelisted someone new.” Joe said very seriously.

“What? No! Okay, Joe, listen,” Scar lowered his voice conspiratorially, and Joe leaned in, keeping an eye on Grumbot as he did- who knows who could be listening. “CuteGuy is Grian’s alter ego. Like how I’m HotGuy.”

Joe put a hand to his mouth in shock, to be polite. “You mean it was actually you who terrorized me all those months ago while I was building a sign for King Ren?”

Scar clicked his tongue in an awkward kind of way. “No time for that, Joe! The point is, I need a sidekick right now, and Grian is nowhere to be found. So, Joe, what do you say- wanna come be CuteGuy for a little while?”

Joe considered this. He had many questions, but Scar had a sense of urgency in his tone. And Joe did like to say yes to new experiences…

“Well, I suppose I could help you out Scar- I mean, HotGuy. But shouldn’t I be called something else, as CuteGuy is kind of more of a Grian thing? I wouldn’t want to invade his creative space.”

Scar rubbed his chin, thinking hard “Maybe… are there other adjectives that are like hot and cute?”

“Oh! I was named the sexiest Minecraft youtuber via a set of tumblr polls!” Joe exclaimed. “Sexy… guy?”

“Tumblr? What’s that, like a disease or something?” Scar asked.

“I- okay, so I could explain this simply, but even that might take a few hours within itself… if I say the words ‘Ball Pit’, does that invoke emotions within you?”

“Joe, we don’t have time!” Scar put a hand over Joe’s mouth. “Listen, I think G will be fine if you borrow the CuteGuy name and outfit. But we really do need to go- crime does not sleep!” Scar opened the pink shulker box and pulled out a couple of sets of clothes, holding them up to Joe and squinting. Finally, he shoved a bundle at him. “Go put this on, and I’ll meet you on Grian and Mumbo’s bridge. Hurry!”

Scar flew up, and Joe quickly changed into the violently pink clothes without much thought. It wasn’t until he flew up to meet Scar did it occur to him what exactly he had on.

“Scar, HotGuy, I don’t mean to complain, but is it really all that sensible to be fighting crime in a crop top and booty shorts? Where is the padding? And the armor?” Joe asked, pulling down on the crop top slightly.

“CuteGuy, in this life, you gotta slay in every way. We’re hotter and cuter then our enemies.” Scar lowered his sunglasses, gave Joe a once-over, and tossed him a huge, glittery pink compound bow. “Now, let’s fly. I’ll explain our mission on the way.” He took off, leaving Joe to put the bow in his inventory and hastily take off after him.

The pink phone began to ring as soon as Joe was coasting in the air, and he fumbled to pull it out of the bag strapped to his thigh.

“Howdy!”

“Alright CuteGuy, are you hearing me alright?” Scar’s voice was cool and collected, if a bit hard to hear over the wind.

“Loud and clear, Scar- I mean, HotGuy.” Joe could see Scar up ahead, and kept pace behind him.

“Fantastic.” Scar turned to give him a thumbs up and a cheesy smile. “Now, for this mission, CuteGuy, we’re heading for the lair of the biggest threat to the server, the goat himself, DocM77. Perhaps you’ve heard of him.”

“I… yeah, Scar, sorry, HotGuy, we’ve both known Doc since season five, of course I know him.”

“Good, good. Recently, I, HotGuy, teamed up with two esteemed revolutionaries to form the Buttercups, an elite team set to take down the goat once and for all. The camp has been set, but we need to send a message to the goat that we mean business. Doc may have fancy redstone, but we have determination, grit, and most importantly, obsidian. Oh, and we’re here!”

“Obsidian?” Joe asked, landing beside Scar on the floor of the perimeter, hanging up the phone. “I thought you were gonna say, like, a pipe bomb or something.”

“No, no, CuteGuy.” Scar pulled out a shulker box and set it on the ground. “We just want to be annoying to good ol’ DocM, not actually kill him. So, we’re gonna cover every surface down here in obsidian.”

Joe looked at Scar, then around at the yawning expanse of the perimeter. “I- yeah, okay. And we are the good guys here, right?”

“Of course.” Scar replied, smiling.

——

It took about five hours of painstakingly placing obsidian, but every surface within the perimeter was eventually covered, which was an interesting sight to behold. Scar and Joe stood at the mouth of Doc’s house, looking down into the expanse.

“I think we did good, CuteGuy.” Scar said, patting Joe on the back.

“This bow was surprisingly effective against slimes.” Joe replied, hoisting up the big pink bow.

“That’s the power of the veloci-tay.” Scar said with an understanding nod. “Now, let’s get out of here before Doc gets back.”

He’d hardly uttered the words when there was the distinct sound of someone coming through Doc’s nether portal. Scar and Joe turned around just in time to see Doc emerge from the portal, and freeze at the sight of them.

“HotGuy?” Doc breathed. “What are you doing here? You and your… actually, I don’t believe I’ve met your… friend?”

“Oh, this is my sidekick, CuteGuy.” Scar waved his hand at Joe.

“Name suits you, CuteGuy.” Doc winked at Joe. “Pleasure to meet you. Now, what was I- oh, what are you both doing in my base? Why does CuteGuy look guilty? What…” Doc’s mechanical eye suddenly flew from the socket, whirring into the air with small but powerful blades. It flew behind the two superheroes and looked down into the perimeter. The room went silent, and Joe watched Doc’s face fall, first into surprise, then anger.

“What the- what did you do? Obsidian?” Doc’s eye flew back into socket, and he actually growled at them. “You annoying-”

“CuteGuy, shoot him!” Scar screeched, hiding behind Joe.

“I- what- okay!” Joe pulled back the bow and aimed it at Doc. The arrow missed. Then another missed. Then Doc was standing right in front of him, glowering.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute, because you’re a terrible shot.” Doc growled.

“Run!” Scar screamed, shooting into Doc’s face over Joe’s shoulder, and they both took off to the sky. Doc typed a bunch of angry and cryptic messages into the in-game chat, but didn’t pursue.

Joe and Scar landed on the bridge between Grian and Mumbo’s bases, breathing heavily.

“We did it! Our first mission as a duo!” Scar held out his hand for a high-five. “What do you say, Joe, want to take on the CuteGuy persona full time? HotGuy needs a good sidekick like you.”

Joe gazed into Scar’s grinning face, seeing his own, glittering pink reflection in Scar’s sunglasses.

“Absolutely not.”

#long post #hc9 #goodtimeswithscar #Grian #<-for the first half #joe hills #HotGuy and CuteGuy

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blueishspace · 2 months

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(Slay The Watcher route 4 p16)

The Narrator: You still your mind and prepare your body.

Poultryman: Civilian?

Cuteguy: What are you doing?

Grian: What's with that face?

Grian: ... You look desperate...like me...

Grian: Well, you can still do something, I know you can! So don't look so defeated.

Grian: You can do it... whatever it is you are trying... I can help.

*crack, a man in a dark red robe with golden details*

Grian: Come on kill me, you know you want to!

The Narrator: You raise your foot but as you bring it down you ... Shatter.

*reality fractures more, fragments flying everywhere*

The Narrator: You feel yourself being pulled in infinite directions... you slay The Watcher freeing it of it's chains while imprisoning yourself with it as you leave it alone and stay upstairs and never enter the cabin and slay yourself.

*the mirror shatters*

The Narrator: And as everything and nothing happens.

Scar: Make it stop!

Voice of The Crown: This is an insult! This isn't an act! Nor a part! What's the point of a part if that part is everything at once! It's the same as nothing!

The Narrator: But everything and nothing doesn't last forever as every melds into-

Prev Next First

#hermitblr #trafficblr #hermitcraft #traffic smp #grian #slay the princess #slay the watcher au #mumbo jumbo #watcher grian #goodtimeswithscar #rendog

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theminecraftbee · 1 year

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I will say with all the superhero aus having made grian cuteguy it’s REALLY REALLY FUNNY that he has instead decided to bring back poultryman,

#not that grian is poultry man of course #that would be ABSURD #there’s no way we know who that man in the chicken costume is.

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ladyevol · 6 months

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I know that I don't talk much about hotguy despite being obsessed with Scar, so here is a post about my headcanons:

▪︎Hotguy is a retired superhero who misses the good old days

▪︎He also still has nightmares about them, particularly his last day as a super hero

▪︎He is a hybrid of some sort, probably part vex, but I like to imagine his other half is witch instead of human, but he thinks he it is human

▪︎The reason for this is because Hotguy relies too much on flying to be just human I think. I believe it makes more sense for him to have natural wings (like a vex)

▪︎He now lives off of his merchandise, but since it hasn't been selling so well lately, he decided to take a job as a bounty hunter instead

▪︎He isn't corrupt guys, promise. A guy just needs to eat (and sustain his very expensive life style)

▪︎His bosses aren't criminals and tyrants, trust

▪︎The event that caused him to retire was the loss of his sidekick, cute guy

▪︎I think Cute Guy was a houseless Avian until Scar rescued him from a supervillain and offered him a job as his sidekick as well as a home

▪︎The two worked together for a while until Cuteguy sacrificed himself for Hotguy and seemingly died in an explosion

▪︎The event traumatized Scar and he still dreams about it

▪︎The event didn't kill Grian but burnt one of his wings, taking away his ability to ever fly

▪︎Grian was so ashamed that he would rather pretend he was dead and just started a job as an archeologist instead

▪︎As the city becomes worse for anyone who isn't the people on top, Grian becomes a vigilante who fights against the same people that hire Scar

▪︎This vigilante is known as Poultryman

▪︎Scar doesn't realize he is working for the bad guys, he fully trusts the government after all, just like he did years back

▪︎Poultryman becomes a wanted man and Hotguy is sent to capture him

▪︎Hotguy is very adamant about going through with it, but Poultryman somehow manages to escape each time

#mcyt #gtws #grian #desert duo #hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar

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rhapsoddity · 6 months

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What if the Vigilantes were to be Heros from the start, Would their identities be the same or different? And the same question applies the other way, would Heros' identities change if they were Vigilantes from the start?

if we're swapping vigilantes and heroes yes absolutely their identities would change! all the heroes names were picked by the hero council, the heroes themselves only get a little input

im not giving yall all thoier alternate identity names but here's a few potential ideas,,, grian was obvious sdvfvgdfsh

Cuteguy -> Poultryman

Pyrolisk -> Wildfire

Sanctuary -> Evergreen

Apollo -> Eclipse

Hex -> Sorceress

#anon #ask

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hmshermitcraft · 11 months

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This isn't for the theme; I remembered seeing something along the lines of 'corrupted hero being worse than the villain' and thought about it along the lines of Scarian.

Hotguy had been pillaging the city for years, using his charming looks and sharp aim to get riches.

The hero, Poultryman, had been trying to take him down, using his acrobatics and sharpened feathers to make lengthy traps that Hotguy just barely sidesteps, not without wounds.

They were the lonesome rivals, bitter to the core, trying to kill the other in a moments notice - at least, that was what it once was.

Slowly, ever so slowly, it seemed to shift: Restrained wrists being held just a little too long, looks that felt different yet undescribable, scratching insults becoming flirtatious banter.

One way or another, the two fell in love. They have their fights, obviously, but sometimes both seemed to slip away during a chase down an ally, the public oblivious to the two sharing a kiss in the darkened corners.

Then, the unthinkable happened; in an fiery trap, a malfunction happened, and the building exploded, taking both Hotguy and his rival with it. Everyone was in shock; the villain was defeated, but no hero would come to bathe in the glory.

Of course, it was a cover up. Scar just needed everyone to think that they were dead for some time to scheme a next heist.

And to get Grian some new clothing.

-----------------

The month Cuteguy came to the city was one of carnage not even Hotguy saw coming. He wasn't one for bodily harm - he just didn't see the reason to kill when one could charm their way out for a much cleaner escape, but Cuteguy was a completely different beast.

He was stunned still, staring at the inferno that engulfed the streets infront of him, and at his bloodstained firestarter infront of the flames. Grian's face, one he saw often softened by love, was a mask of ferocity and madness, accompanied with a loud cackle roaring out of the too wide and too sharp grin splitting that mask. He was looking staring at Scar, a wild light dancing in his eyes; one brought about when the caged are given the keys to freedom for the first time.

And Scar didn't know whenever to join in with his pesky bird's feelings or be horrified at what he'd done.

~🪶

Grian had seen the way the heroes were changing. He was tired of it, he was tired of maintaining this image of being a perfect god. He couldn't be flawed, he couldn't make mistakes. Every single thing he did was monitored and monetised. None of these people cared about him. They just cared about the hero they created in their heads!

So when Scar gave him an out, he took it. Scar was sweet, underneath all the charm. He had flaws, and he didn't care about Grian's. He saw Grian, not just Poultry Man.

He's seeing Grian now. The flames are hot against his face as the heroes' headquarters burned. Not the public one, but the one they actually work out of. The scattered apartments and underground basements. That stupid front of a burger bar.

People would die. He didn't care.

He turns back to Scar, the amber flames complementing the Hot Guy costume well. He knows this isn't what Scar expected, but this is what he gets. This is Grian. And this is Cute Guy.

His maniacal laughter breaks down into tears as he falls to his knees. His tears do nothing against the raging fire.

Scar sits beside him, wrapping an arm around Grian's shoulders.

#hermitshipping #ask #grian tag #scar tag #scarian #🪶 anon #mod 🎀#violence tw #fire tw

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galaxy-lilies · 4 months

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superhero/villain au where grian and scar get captured as poultryman and the jangler, scar only getting captured so he could let cub escape and grian only getting captured because he let his guard down. They're both presented with the choice of joining the hero organization to serve their time or death penalty and ultimately they both choose joining the organization. They're paired up together and their first interactions were rough. to say the least. But they eventually get to know each other and make a deal to protect each other seeing how they didn't have any other allies. Eventually poultryman and the jangler are only remembered in infamy as cuteguy and hotguy take the stage and its not until years into the gig when grian and scar are out in their civilian forms that scar's inner vex recognizes a man not sitting far from them during their cafe outing.

#there's more to this and it eventually leads to mumconvexian but #woe superhero au be upon yee #indierambles #indie rambles

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cluemily · 1 year

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Grian denying his role as Cuteguy so hard he's bringing back Poultryman? dklsgh

#clue watches #spoilers

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frozenjokes · 6 months

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Please For The Love Of Everything Good, MAKE SOME NEW FRIENDS AND LEAVE ME ALONE. With Love, HotGuy <3 (3/3)

Poultry Man was not the type of bird who liked to speak, or even spoke at all. When Poultry Man had something to say, he did so in the form of egg-based political commentary, usually crimes, but not always. Sometimes when he was pissed off, there wasn’t any commentary at all, just chickens. Gotta keep the people guessing, right? Poultry Man liked elaborate schemes, he liked delivering a message, and he liked chickens.

This was not Poultry Man’s first scavenger hunt, nor would it be his last. CuteGuy the villain was dead (among other aliases), but Poultry Man would live on forever, a shining light in this dank city. A golden egg among other, shittier, stupider eggs- whatever, it didn’t matter. Poultry Man was awesome, and Grian felt awesome as he sat at the end of the abandoned road, waiting. He had his postcards ready, simply waiting for HotGuy to arrive. Today was important. Grian would make it count.

Grian ended up waiting a little longer than he thought he would have to, which he probably should have guessed. HotGuy was known to misread and misinterpret basically anything, and it didn’t matter how neat Grian wrote, dyslexia was one son of a bitch.

But HotGuy did eventually arrive, panting and sweaty, and Grian couldn’t help but chuckle imagining him running from place to place and looking for Poultry Man’s hints. Cute, really. HotGuy lit up when he spotted Poultry Man, perched on the roof of a long broken down car, one that had been here for years, no one bothering to haul it off to the dump. Grian smiled, though HotGuy wouldn’t see it under the mask.

“Poultry Man! It’s- I can’t believe I have the chance to finally meet you! Properly, I mean. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you out and about, hasn’t it.. I know CuteGuy was your friend, but I take it you two probably don’t get along much right now.”

Grian shook his head, writing quickly, then tossing the note at HotGuy’s feet. The cardstock was heavy, so it did go a decent distance instead of fluttering pathetically to the ground like normal paper would; Grian had learned that the hard way. Humiliating. Regardless, HotGuy scrambled to pick up the note, reading with wide eyes.

“You’re still friends? Oh, I’m glad! Really, I am. I was a little worried about you, honestly, but I didn’t want to ask just in case the subject was sensitive. CuteGuy and I.. I mean, I’ve been trying, but he just doesn’t like me very much. We don’t really get along, and I just wish I could change his mind. You see, I really like this guy, Cub’s his name, but he and CuteGuy live together, and I just- CuteGuy hates me! He hates that I like Cub, and doesn’t want us to be in any sort of relationship at all, and I just wish I could show him I’m not all that bad, y’know? I mean..” HotGuy trailed off, looking momentarily hopeful, “He told you I wanted to meet with you, right? Was that recently? Did he do that for me?”

Grian considered him for a moment before nodding, and HotGuy just about melted.

“Oh, you have no idea how happy that makes me. And- and that you wanted to meet me in the first place! CuteGuy said you wouldn’t want to, and that you wouldn’t want to talk to me, and I guess you’re not talking, but you’re here, and I’m thrilled! I hope he told you I don’t want to arrest you or hurt you or anything- I don’t know, I got the impression he thought you’d be offended, but with CuteGuy, it’s a little hard to tell. He’s really defensive on your behalf. When I told him I thought he was a good friend for that he tried to beat the shit out of me. Well, he did beat the shit out of me. But that was also for other reasons. It’s complicated. But you don’t look like you want to kill me, and you guys are friends, so maybe you can put in a good word?”

Grian couldn’t suppress the small chuckle that left his throat, and HotGuy seemed to think that was a good sign, perking up, his already large eyes widening. Yeah. Grian could see where Cub was coming from. Having someone like that look at you like this at all hours of the day? Even a heart as icy and dead as his gave a little. He stopped again to write, throwing the postcard to the ground, and HotGuy scurried forward to pick it up.

“Ah- I did get a little distracted, didn’t I? You’re right, you’re right. So- I know you probably won’t answer, but I wanted to ask regardless.. The chickens? The eggs? Where do you get them? And I mean- you probably shouldn’t tell me, full transparency I guess, because I’d probably try to stop you.. Honestly though! I promise it's nothing against you! Well, maybe not nothing- you are committing crimes, but I’m mostly worried about the chickens? The place we bring them to, the sanctuary- they’re happy there! They’re well taken care of and loved. After your.. stunts.. the chickens end up in a good place, and I thought you should know that I care about them. So when I ask, it’s coming from a place of concern for the animals, yeah? I imagine they’re so confused being put in all these random places, having no idea what’s happening or where they’ve ended up.. Wherever you raise them- I’m assuming you raise them- it’s a good place? In our investigation of your activity, we still have no idea where you’re getting them, and I’d just hate to think they’re somewhere underground, unhappy, y’know?”

Grian cocked his head, a visual signal to HotGuy that he was thinking, considering him. That was.. very sweet. Not something Grian would have expected from HotGuy, especially after watching him try to manhandle the chickens Poultry Man had planted, yelling and flailing and generally being far more afraid than should ever be acceptable for someone trying (and failing, miserably) to wrangle chickens. Grian wrote his note, tossing it to the ground.

HotGuy read it aloud this time, “A man after my own heart..” HotGuy trailed off, smiling, and put a hand to his heart as he looked back up. “Of course. That little farm is a great place, Poultry Man, I’m assuming you’ve seen it.” HotGuy paused and Grian nodded, giving a thumbs up to show his approval.

HotGuy looked pleased, continuing, “I just wanted to offer, even though you’ll probably say no.. They would take your chickens, if you wanted to surrender however many you have left. I know it’s mostly eggs with you, and you don’t come around all too frequently, but if you ever decide to give this thing up, or if you can’t care for them anymore, or anything at all, that option is always available for you. Personally, I’d sleep a little easier knowing you weren’t putting live animals in peoples’ houses, but to each their own I guess.”

Grian smiled under the mask, taking a deep breath, “You have nothing to worry about. Well, not the putting chickens in places people don’t want them, I will still be doing that, but the chickens themselves are well taken care of, I can promise you that.”

HotGuy startled at the sound of his voice, jumping to his toes, and Grian couldn’t suppress a laugh, drawing a hand lazily to the beak of his mask as if to try and hide it. Grian was still no good at disguising his voice, so he didn’t bother trying, fastening his hands to the side of his mask and removing it before HotGuy had enough time to process who was actually speaking. HotGuy’s face was worth every anxiety about revealing Poultry Man’s identity.

“Grian!” HotGuy squeaked, a positively delightful sound, “Why are you dressed up as Poultry Man! That- You tricked me! Identity theft is no joke! This is not cool!”

Grian gaped for a moment, mouth opening and closing dumbly, “I- Are you joking.”

“I just told you this is no joke!”

“I am Poultry Man, Scar. HotGuy. Whatever you’re called. I have literally always been Poultry Man.”

“Poultry Man has been around for years!” HotGuy was so genuine, so annoying- Grian was almost offended. Maybe he was offended, actually- What was HotGuy playing at? Was it so impossible to believe he had multiple alter egos?

“Uh, yeah,” Grian finally huffed, rolling his eyes, “So have I.”

“You’re- why?” HotGuy sounded so distressed, so confused, and altogether Grian just couldn’t help but laugh. It was so stupid! He couldn’t stop laughing, arms across his stomach, kicking his feet a bit, talons scratching up the roof of the already beat up car.

“Come on,” Grian wheezed, “Is it really so hard for you to believe?”

“I- Yes! You guys- Poultry Man is noble. Poultry Man is a nuisance, but he has things to say! He has depth. CuteGuy is just a fucking dick!”

“Wow,” Grian drew the world out in fake offense, spreading his wings as he leaned back on the car’s roof, “Maybe you’ve misunderstood Poultry Man all along. Maybe he’s just as evil and uncaring as CuteGuy. They are friends after all, good friends, close.”

“No! CuteGuy was a bad influence on him, that’s all, he just didn’t have many other people to turn to.”

“You know you’re talking about the same person.”

“I- I know that!” HotGuy seethed, like this was quite possibly the most meaningful betrayal he had ever experienced. The little stories he’d made up about Poultry Man, entirely false. It was almost pitiful, really. HotGuy had no idea how to cope, Grian could see it as clearly as the conflict in his face.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Grian crooned, sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, “Did you like him? Look up to him, even? And all this time you had no idea it was all just lil ol’ me.”

“I didn’t- I don’t look up to Poultry Man. I thought I could help him. I wanted to help him. I don’t- I still don’t think he’s a bad guy!”

“Nothing like CuteGuy, cold and sharp and mean, no, no,” Grian teased, “Denial is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

“I am serious! It doesn’t matter if Poultry Man and CuteGuy and Grian are all technically the same body, you are not the same people, just like HotGuy and civilian HotGuy are not the same.”

“Uh, pretty sure that’s not true, bud. That’s all just Grian, along with every other pseudonym I’ve held over the years.”

“What- really?” HotGuy stopped short, like this was completely foreign to him, “They’re all the same to you? Wait a minute, there’s more? Is every avian supervillain in this city just you? How many alter egos do you have!?” HotGuy puffed up, and Grian snickered.

“I am so glad you asked! My biggest escapade was probably the whole Mooners cult with Mumbo- do you remember? He was the head of course, but I was his faceless right hand man-“

“You know Mumbo?”

“We are roommates in college. I haven’t talked to him in a while though, and given the ‘retirement,’ I’m assuming he probably wouldn’t want to catch up regardless.”

HotGuy groaned loudly into his hands, “The Mooners were so annoying! Do you even know how much damage you two caused with that? People don’t function right when they don’t sleep!”

“Oh, it was a trip. It was awesome. And don’t think I don’t remember you attending our first couple meetings.”

“Yeah, when I thought it was a fun sleepover event thing- no one sleeps during sleepovers, everyone knows that! You guys were weird and crazy and everyone was partying- it was awesome.”

“Uh huh, and you drew quite a bit of attention to us, thanks for that.”

HotGuy groaned again into his hands and Grian snickered from his perch, pleased.

“Less successful was The Entity, but that was still quite a bit of fun. That massive rock I found just outside of town? It was a cool rock. And suddenly, I’m a prophet! People love a good Horror, and boy did I deliver. Flesh and guts and a horrifying puppet of a man, me. I bet I could have gained a bigger following, but I got bored. Still though, I think my favorite stunt I’ve ever pulled off was blowing up the whole thing and disappearing without a trace. I’m not going to tell you how I got my claws on dynamite, but that whole thing was fucking awesome. In the middle of the night, the whole rock, gone. And after- everyone wanted to know! What happened to The Entity? To its prophet? People were feeling like they missed out, like they wished they could have been there before it all exploded. Maybe it didn’t matter how big the cult was in the first place, but how it will be remembered. You like making history, don’t you, HotGuy?”

“Oh my god.”

“Good story, huh?”

“I just can’t believe that was you. How many costumes do you have? Wasn’t that one like- awfully gorey, right? And you just sat out there covered in- I don’t even want to know.”

Grian preened, incredibly pleased. “It was gross. Cub knows about that one actually, only because I disappeared for like a month. Brought me food when I needed it, though, most of the time I was fine.”

HotGuy sighed, drawing his hands over his face. “Anything else?” He didn’t look particularly like he wanted to know, and Grian’s wings fluttered, deeply content.

“Nothing huge. A long time ago, years actually, I convinced a couple of people they were being haunted by salmon. Pretty funny. I actually brought that back recently, I just tormented this one guy- thought he was cursed by the ocean, it was great. Didn’t make headlines, but sometimes that’s not what matters in life.”

“You are- you’re fucking evil. Recently? When have you even had the time!?”

Grian cackled, trailing off into a snicker, “I make the time. I was also unemployed.”

“Ah. I guess that explains it..” HotGuy sighed, frowning gently, something distinctly distant. Honestly, it didn’t look like he was thinking about Grian at all, which was a little annoying; he’d just confessed to being like five different criminals, if not legal crimes, then surely social ones, and HotGuy didn’t even look like he cared! (And listen, Grian wasn’t some kind of whore for attention, but a little recognition would be nice, yeah? Yeah.) But HotGuy did look back up, some kind of quiet despondency behind those eyes. “And it doesn’t bother you?”

“What? Being a public nuisance? That doesn’t bother me at all.”

“No, your identities I mean. It’s all just.. Grian? Not any more complicated than that?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I feel like I’m lying under every name I take.”

Grian shrugged, “You are, aren’t you? So am I. Elaborate lies, kinda, all under one central person. I like to dress up and play pretend and cause problems, just like basically everyone else in this godforsaken city. We aren’t special.”

But HotGuy didn’t look satisfied, eyebrows knitting impossibly tight, “I don’t have a central person. I’m not anyone.”

“Your civilian identity?”

“He’s not real either.” HotGuy looked at his feet, and Grian didn’t really know what to do with that, nor did he understand.

“Oh. That’s wild.”

HotGuy made a bit of a strangled noise before squeaking out a small “Yeah?” He fiddled with his hands for a moment, pulling at the fabric of his gloves, “I don’t know, I didn’t realize.. How did you do that? Not feel.. lost.”

Grian’s lip curled, the question invoking a similar reaction as when he would open the fridge to the smell of something rotting, “I can not even begin to tell you how unqualified I am to talk to you about anything at all. That’s a problem for you and your therapist, pal.”

HotGuy looked briefly indignant at that, then deflated, a more unhappy look crossing his face. “I don’t have a therapist.”

“What? Why not?” Grian sat up, just about as genuinely surprised as someone could be at a confession like that. A lot of things he learned about HotGuy made very little sense, but that just may have been the biggest surprise yet.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A pretty straightforward one I think. There’s no way you’re not all sorts of fucked up, not with the sort of bodily trauma you’ve been through and the job you’re currently holding. And you’ve got, like, infinite money. And you never shut up. Why not pay someone to listen to you.”

“I am not ‘all sorts of fucked up,’” HotGuy scoffed, “I am fine. And I don’t have infinite money, geez. I don’t need a therapist.”

“You say that like you’ve got something against therapy. So you’re one of those guys. Ick.”

“I’m not- no, I am not ‘ick.’ I think therapy is great! Therapists help lots of people, probably just as many as I do, I’d say. They’re the real heroes, yeah?”

Grian rolled his eyes, throwing his head back in a sarcastically languid movement, “Oh, let me guess. You’re the type of person who encourages people to go and see a therapist, but when the same thing is said to you, you say something like ‘Ah, no, therapy just isn’t for me.’ Am I right? You don’t need to tell me, I know I’m right.”

“You are not- Listen! It’s just something that doesn’t work for me, okay? Nothing about that is appealing to me.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

Hotguy pursed his lips, defiant. “..No.”

Grian had to laugh, his voice losing its edge in favor of something more genuine, “Dude, you’d probably love it. I’m serious. You’d go crazy for therapy. I mean, it’s hard work sometimes, and it can be a little bit trying, but then you start hating yourself a little less, and if you’re not in the mood one week, there’s still a very nice lady across from you who you can just talk to about whatever you want! I can’t watch The Bachelor anymore, it’s bad for me, and also bad for Cub, but my therapy sessions have never been more derailed. Good times. Fun! Sometimes it feels like therapists don’t know a single thing about anything that isn’t, like, mental health- I swear I’ve explained things to her I was convinced were common knowledge like- a lot. It happens a lot.”

“You don’t.. You just talk about whatever you want?”

“Yeah! Honestly, for the first couple weeks, I don’t think I talked about myself more than three or four times and I was going twice a week. It’s not uncommon. If you want, I can give you the name of the clinic I go to. I like the people there.”

“I.. I don’t know. I don’t really have the time, and I can talk to anyone about anything if I wanted to for free. I don’t know. And my issues are like- pretty intertwined with my identities, which I can’t really talk about.”

“Sure you can. It’s all confidential unless you’re hurting yourself or others, basically. Like, legally confidential. You can tell all you want about your different identities and your therapist can’t say a thing. I don’t tell about my alter egos for obvious reasons, but that’s not where my issues stem from anyway. But lately, I have been dipping my toes into talking about the superhero business, mostly because it’s pretty relevant to the things I’ve been feeling lately.”

“You talk about me?” An innocent question, one that Grian couldn’t help but laugh sharply at.

“Uh, yeah. You come up. We got a little off track for a minute there, but that’s kind of why I’m here in the chicken costume. I’m about to knock your socks off in a minute, seriously. Eugh. I don’t even want to say it. Makes me a little sick to my stomach, honestly, but I brought you all the way out here and revealed basically every misdeed I’ve ever committed to you, so. Surely this won’t be as hard..” Grian trailed off for a moment, pursing his lips, “No. This is harder. This is so much harder.”

HotGuy threw him an apprehensive smile, shrugging, “You’re making me nervous, here. I’m not actually wearing any socks, but for the sake of this I’ll pretend.” HotGuy ran a hand through his hair, and Grian couldn’t suppress a small chuckle when tiny amounts of glitter floated down.

“Well, HotGuy, I haven’t been very nice to you.”

HotGuy’s eyes jumped up, his attention sufficiently grabbed. He looked awkward then, the hand returning to his hair. “I.. think I would agree..” He took a quick breath, like he was unsure if that was the right thing to say.

Grian gritted his teeth, then let go, breathing deeply, “I want to change that.”

“Oh!” HotGuy threw his hands up in front of his chest, an unfairly endearing reaction of surprise, his eyes as wide as saucers, “I-I mean- You don’t have to-”

Grian threw his head back in a loud cackle, “Seriously?”

“No! No I didn’t mean that. Sorry- I didn’t know how to react to that. That. This is new for me. Did you stop disliking me? Don’t answer that. I’m confused. I don’t understand. I would like very much if you were nice to me. Well. Nicer. You don’t even have to be nice, but it would be cool if you acted like you hated me a little less.”

Grian waved a hand, silencing the nonsense blabber from a very embarrassed looking HotGuy. “I’ve been treating you unfairly, and it has very little to do with you as a person. You’ll never hear me repeat this, and if you ask anyone I’ll deny it, but I don’t think you’re actually a shitty guy. You’re an alright guy, maybe even less bad than I thought you were before we met properly. Maybe even better than most superheroes, but the bar is low, okay, don’t let that get to your head.” Grian took a breath, and HotGuy just stared, stunned, so when he didn’t say anything, Grian went on.

“Jealousy is a tame word I think. Envy doesn’t feel right either. I was.. deeply, viscerally angry, in all the physically animal ways I can not even begin to describe to you. And that’s not.. gone. It won’t leave, it’s just a part of me and I have to find a way to cope with it that’s not being a massive prick to you and Cub, but mostly you. Because you made a move on him before I even understood what I was feeling, feelings I had never considered before because I had never been afraid of losing him like that. I never had a reason to be so possessive before, because I was the only person.. I don’t know. But I think you understand. I’ve been in love, and didn’t really recognize it because neither of us really had anyone else to love, right?”

HotGuy opened his mouth to speak, but Grian cut him off with a shake of his head, “Don’t. Not yet. I’m not done. Yesterday morning I made this decision, that I was going to take him out and try to win him back, yeah? Delusional things, and I knew just as much, but I couldn’t fight it, I couldn’t let it go, and then yesterday afternoon, it kind of just.. hit me. I don’t want to ‘win him back’ from anyone, or anything like that. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were, selfishly, when we were both lonelier, unhappier people. And then I realized, hey, wait a minute, there’s something I want more than that, more than anything I could ever want for myself. I want Cub to be happy. I want him to step out of his shell, date superheroes, maybe even get his heart broken, as long as he’s living, y’know? And I want to live too, I want to put myself out there and meet people and try things I can’t do when I’m at home. Things I couldn’t do before, when it was just me and Cub, kind of miserable and kind of lonely, just stagnating, y’know?”

“You’re saying a lot of words, Grian, and I’m not understanding most of them.”

Grian chuckled into his hand, then sighed, the smile fading, “Cub didn’t want me to tell you this, but I think it’s important that you know, for transparency’s sake. I love him. And he loves me too, yes, like that. And I told him because I couldn’t keep it a secret, because I just couldn’t handle it anymore, and not because I was trying to force my way between you two, and I want you to believe me, so I’ve been honest, I’ve told you everything, all my secrets, all my crimes. I had no idea how he felt, and I don’t think he knew very much either. We’re so close, you have to understand. It was hard to even see it, not before everything was thrown into question, and suddenly things are changing and you’re feeling and you don’t even know what’s going on. But I think I know what would happen, HotGuy, if we acted on those feelings. If we let everything go back to normal, except maybe with a few more stolen kisses, and really, I mean it when I say a few, we are not the most physically inclined people; more lazy than anything.”

Grian stopped himself, realizing HotGuy was looking a bit pale. “Maybe I should cut to the chase. We talked it over for a long time and we both agree we don’t want things to be the way they were before. We don’t want to stagnate and rot away, to have each other, but nothing else, y’know? And I’m afraid of change. I’m afraid of you. But I want to let you in. And he wants you too.”

“Like- Like a polycule?”

“I- No! No-” Grian had to laugh, too startled to do much else, “I guess I could have worded that a little better. No, I mean you and Cub. I think you and Cub should have the chance to love each other, if you still want that.”

“I’m poly, Grian.”

“Goodness- Scar, please, not necessary,” Grian covered his face, struggling to contain his laughter, mostly bubbling up from nerves now, which unfortunately, was painfully obvious, “You don’t love me, and I mean it when I say I don’t want to get in the way. I want you to have this. I want Cub to have this.”

“I could love you. I think I could.”

Grian stared, possibly gaping, though he had no idea. He might have been flustered if his brain hadn’t factory reset itself right then and there. At some point he remembered to breathe, and had to take a couple of moments to do that in silence.

When there was sufficient air in his lungs, he looked up. “But you don’t. And I don’t love you either. And that’s okay, Scar. That’s okay.” Grian felt his voice buckle, the first and last warning he was going to cry, and damn it he didn’t want to, he really hadn’t wanted to cry, but he hadn’t been prepared for this, he was not prepared to be forgiven like it was effortless, to be told he could be loved.

“Grian I- fuck it-” To Grian’s great alarm, HotGuy began to fiddle with his mask, a motion Grian recognized from HotGuy’s first meeting with Cub.

“Whoa! No, no! Don’t- Don’t do anything you’re going to regret, please!” Grian hopped off the car, waving his arms, but HotGuy didn’t listen, breaths coming harshly from his nose. Grian couldn’t stop him before the mask was off, though, even with his face fully bared, Grian didn’t see anything that particularly shocked him. He still didn’t recognize HotGuy from anyone he’d seen on the street, which made perfect sense. Civilian HotGuy probably blended right in. Though a few things stood out, like his eyes, the same striking green as his brother’s, and a few scars that were obscured by the mask, though, that was no surprise. But HotGuy seemed distressed at Grian’s non-reaction, looking near panic as he jumped back.

“Do you- makeup wipes, do you have makeup wipes?”

His panic was infectious, Grian fumbling over his words, “Not on me, I don’t just carry them around.”

“I don’t either!” HotGuy hissed before making a decisive noise, rubbing at his face with his gloved hands instead. “Whatever.”

“HotGuy- Scar, please, you don’t have to do this-” Grian wanted to pull HotGuy’s hands away, but at the same time, couldn’t bring himself to touch the other, “This feels bad, Scar.” But HotGuy didn’t stop, fingers raking over the places where he had covered up scars. And other spots too, where he seemed to have meticulously sculpted lines across his face that just weren’t real- Grian had never noticed, it was so well done.

“I don’t want this anymore! I don’t want to be a secret! I want to be like you, I want you to know me!” But still, Grian was too distressed with this display to properly look at him, which only seemed to upset HotGuy further, growing more and more hysterical, “Grian!”

“I don’t know what you want, HotGuy!”

“Grian, please!” And that was different. Distinctly, world-rockingly different, that was not HotGuy’s voice. That was not HotGuy.

Grian was pretty sure he yelled, soft and then loudly, very loudly, a violent crescendo as he backpedaled anywhere away, away, get away, at all costs get away from the man using Micah’s voice, from Micah in HotGuy’s uniform, frantic and frightened, but above all else, deeply, deeply relieved.

Tripping on flapping wings, it took a second for Grian to be airborne, screaming his distress all the way into the sky, movements uneven and exhausting, but panic did little else but put him in the clouds, flying anywhere as long as it was away.

Poultry Man was a chicken, afterall.

by the way, if you are one of the people reading only this specific story (as indicated by the 3/3) and are interested to know more or what happens next, there is more, and there will be more after this, and you can find all of it on ao3 here

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #hermitfic #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan #cubfan135 #scarian #cubscar #cubscarian #convexian #hotguy #cuteguy #poultryman #poultry man #hermitshipping

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