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birrdies · 4 months

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“when I say you are killing me” (desert duo one-shot, 2.6k)

Every inch of his climb is agony. White-hot and endless, it ricochets through Scar’s body as if it bought an expressway pass through his veins like a highway. Would it have killed Grian to get an apartment on the first floor? Hell, Scar would even take something on the third or fourth-floor if he had to. Anything would be better than dragging himself, slowly and painfully, up twelve flights of rickety metal stairs. In the snow. In the middle of the night. Bleeding.

Scar’s having a bad night.

Blood dribbles between the gaps of his fingers. It’s slower than it had been, but each heave up another flight of stairs blinds him with pain and sends a few more fresh droplets of blood sliding down his middle. His shirt (whatever tatters remain of it anyway) and pants are wet and tacky, sticking to his skin like a perpetually wet bathing suit as he tries to climb the rest of the way up to Grian’s apartment.

The fire escape is an old decrepit fixture of rusting metal mounted to the brick siding with nothing more than a few loose bolts and a dream. It groans beneath his weight, the barest shake of wind causing the metal to ripple and shudder. The metal saps the warmth from his already cold, pale fingertips. He’d had gloves, but had to get rid of them as they were soaked in blood and not all-that conducive for climbing-under-the-influence (of blood loss). Scar’s not afraid of much, least of all heights, but he chooses each step up the fire escape carefully, muscle memory a crutch as he drags himself past open windows with the lights still on. Last thing he needs is another broadcast claiming HotGuy is nothing but a petty creep with a penchant for B&Es.

By the time he reaches the twelfth floor he’s shaking from head-to-to. Each breath sears through him, rivaling the sharp-edged pain of lightning, setting him alight. It burns through him, the aftershocks never ending as he pulls himself upright and grasps onto the edges of Grian’s windowsill. A pained whine catches between his teeth; he refuses to let it out.

Curled up at Grian’s windowsill as he peeks through the drawn curtains at the warm lamplight cascading through the glass, Scar finds the painful climb was well worth each and every second of agony. No better minded than a moth drawn to a flame Scar leans in to rest his forehead against the glass, the warm, golden glow from within Grian’s apartment beckoning him forward. Inside, Grian’s sitting at his desk around a cluster of books and papers strewn around as if a bomb had gone off. His hair is fuzzy and curled at the tips, as it always is whenever Grian lets it air dry after a shower. His shoulders are hunched and the sides of his face are illuminated by the blue glow of his laptop screen. Even through the glass Scar can hear the incessant clacking of his keys as he furiously types away at whatever assignment he’s working on.

It takes Scar more than one try to build up the courage to disturb him. He looks peaceful (or about as peaceful as someone working on a lab report can be), and Scar knows that peace will shatter the second he knocks, the second he barges in, yet again, on Grian’s evening and sweeps him up in his vigilante shenanigans.

Scar’s bloodied hands grasp onto the windowsill, red streaks staining the chipping white paint like a crime scene out of some gruesome horror movie Grian would have him watch. He winces at the sight; it’ll be a nightmare to scrub out. He’ll have to remember to buy Grian dinner one of these days to make it up to him and hope that Grian will have the heart, eventually, to forgive him.

“Grian,” he mumbles, startled to find his voice nothing more than a gravelly rasp. He reaches to knock, but his arms are as stiff as uncooked spaghetti noodles and don’t listen to a word he has to say. With a huff of frustration, Scar pitches his weight forward and thumps his head twice against the glass. The dull ache through his forehead is nothing compared to the feverish burning tearing through his chest and stomach.

Inside, a shadow bolts across the floor. Grian’s cat, Maui. In his chair Grian twists around at the sound. He’s wearing his glasses— Scar’s heart drops low in his stomach at the sight— and squints through the darkness to see Scar sheepishly waving at him through the glass, his breath fogging it up just enough to be seen.

He unfurls himself from his chair and comes to pry the window open. Scar comes face-to-face with his heart-patterned pajama pants, two sizes too big and pooling around his ankles. Wait, are those Scar’s?

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Grian is asking before Scar manages to start dragging himself in through the open window. It’s only for the briefest millisecond, in Grian’s ignorance, that Scar can be grateful for the starless, moonless night. The dark shields him not only from the prying eyes of neighbors, but from Grian’s scrutiny. In this dark he can’t see the blood, can’t see the tears in his shirt. In the dark, he might just look a little ruffled, no worse for wear than he usually is after a busy night patrolling. In the dark, he and Grian can pretend, albeit for only a second, that everything is normal.

But as the pain and dark corners throbbing in his periphery are keen on reminding him, everything is very much not normal.

“I seemed to have lost my watch,” Scar says as he pulls himself in through the open window. Every movement is measured, half-withheld, ginger— everything that Scar isn’t, and he’d be a fool to think Grian wouldn’t notice. He does immediately, because he’s Grian, and he’s never been truly ignorant when it comes to Scar, despite Scar’s best intentions.

Grian steps back with wide eyes. The color drains from his face as Scar holds his weight against the wall with one blood-slicked hand and struggles to stand at his full height. Every inch he tries to stand taller, the more the swelling edges of the wound start to pull and ache.

“Scar?” Grian’s face, usually so warm and vivid, especially under the light of his desk lamp, pales to a near lifeless color. He staggers toward him, hands held out in front of him as if to catch Scar. “Scar, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Right as rain, G,” Scar says, managing a wry smile. “Honest.”

“Don’t give me that.” Grian rushes forward, grabbing Scar around the shoulders and steering him towards the futon in the middle of the room. The second Grian touches him some of Scar’s pain fades, if not just because he has somewhere else to pitch his weight, to take some of the strain off his bloodied, torn middle.

The pair of them hobble to the futon, Grian whispering mumbled nothings as he lowers Scar onto the edge and forces him to sit back with firm hands on his shoulders. Scar allows himself the smallest mercy of relaxing into the cushions, his arms and legs limp at his sides as his head lulls back to rest against the back of the futon. It’s as if every string tying his marionette up, stringing him along, has been cut all at once. It’s somehow blissful and terrifying all at the same time. He’s not sure he’s ever been this roughed up, this exhausted.

And in front of Grian of all people?

Grian, whose face is drawn tight, whose shoulders and jaw are rigid as if he’s been made out of wood. Grian, who anxiously flutters at Scar’s side for a second before disappearing in a flurry toward the kitchen. Scar’s head is too heavy for him to lift, but he hears Grian rummaging and cursing under his breath before he returns just as quickly as he left. In his arms he balances a handful of small dishtowels, a first-aid kit, and a box of blue rubber gloves.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, to himself more than to Scar, as he sits on his knees on the cushion beside Scar and leans over to assess the wounds.

Gingerly he pulls the tattered shreds of his black shirt away from the wound-bed (as much as he can with some of the fabric stuck to his body with blood like glue) and winces at the gory sight. Scar’s skin is torn in jagged ridges, three gouge marks clawed from just under his ribs and down across his right abdomen. Thankfully, the worst of the bleeding seems to have stopped, dark, thick globules of blood already starting to stitch together like wads of hot glue around the wound, crusting on the skin.

Grian examines it all with a crease between his brow that Scar, after all this time, has come to know means he’s irritated. He’s always looked especially cute when he’s angry (part of the reason it’s just too easy for Scar to give into the temptation to push his buttons whenever possible), but the downturn of his lips, the whites of his eyes, reveals something far more serious. Worry. Grian’s worried about him, and maybe it’s the blood loss starting to get to Scar in earnest, but Scar finds he far prefers this sight. He can’t help but smile back at him, even though he knows it’ll likely earn him a punch when he’s no longer bleeding out on Grian’s couch.

“Scar.” Grian says his name as if he’s been saying it for a while, but Scar’s only just now hearing it. “This is bad. Like, really bad.”

Scar blinks down his nose at him, brow furrowed. “You should see the other guy,” he says with a weak huff of laughter. “Stuck him so full of arrows you could call him a porcupine.”

“Scar, this is serious,” Grian admonishes, snapping on a pair of gloves and brushing his hair from his eyes.

“But you’re gonna fix me right up, ain’t you, Doc?” Sar teases, lifting his head just enough to catch Grian’s scowl as he flicks open the first-aid kit and fishes out a small brown bottle.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” Grian says, and there he goes again— detached, analytical, dawning his ‘I’m calm and collected’ persona. He pulls a pair of scissors out of the first-aid kit and tests the snap of them. “This doesn’t look like it was from some kind of a knife—”

“Ravager,” Scar says, gritting his teeth in anticipation. “Jerk got too close.”

Grian raises an eyebrow. “Sounds more like you got too cocky.”

Again, Scar finds himself fighting (and failing) to conceal a smug little smile. “You’re worried about me, just say it.”

“I’m pissed off is what I am,” Grian snaps. He peels up one edge of Scar’s shirt and begins cutting away as much of the fabric as he can without disturbing the edges of Scar’s wounds. He winces only when the shirt tugs too sharply on the red, puffy edges of the wound. And Grian, to Scar’s surprise, nearly flinches every time he does.

“Sorry, sorry,” Grian whispers each time, sounding so unlike himself. His face is pale, and if Scar isn’t mistaken there’s the faintest tremble to his hand.

“It’s okay,” Scar says, just as hushed, as if the slightest movement or raise in his voice will spook Grian. “Do what you gotta do. I’m tough, I’m strong. I can take it.”

Grian scoffs and peels a foil lid from the bottle’s cap, dumping a bit of it onto a folded dishrag. “Yeah, okay. We’ll see how tough and strong you are once I start cleaning this.”

“Give me your worst, Doc.” Scar lets his head loll back to stare at the ceiling, taking as deep a breath as his tense, wounded chest will allow. The twinge of pain reminds him to stay awake, has his fingers curling into the fabric of the futon beneath him.

Grian doesn’t give Scar a warning, which he appreciates. The anticipation is the worst part. He grits his teeth and bares it as Grian firmly, but not violently, uses the alcohol-soaked rag to wash away the blood from his torn skin. Scar scrunches his eyes shut and breathes through it, the pain an unrelenting impulse racing through his veins like faulty circuitry gone haywire.

And as soon as it starts, it’s over. Grian sits back on his heels and tosses the now blood-soaked rag to the floor. He wipes at the sweat blistering across his forehead with his arm, taking a shaky breath in as he examines his handiwork.

“It’s not too deep,” he says, sounding the slightest bit relieved. He twists to reach for the first-aid kit again. “You’re lucky I swiped this stuff from the lab. Though I won’t begin to guess why you came here instead of a hospital. This needs stitches, probably.”

“Eh, I’m not worried about another scar,” Scar dismisses, ignoring the small beads of sweat starting to gather on his own brow. He can’t handle Grian thinking he’s caused him any more pain; the only thing worse than suffering as he is now is to watch Grian torture himself over things he can’t control. Like Scar. “Besides, I can’t exactly keep up the whole secret identity thing if I go to a hospital half in costume, now can I?”

“Secret identity,” Grian parrots mockingly, unraveling a bundle of bandages and starting to tack them down around Scar’s middle. “You nearly got gutted, and that’s what you’re worried about. Of course.”

He’s angry. Scar would be an idiot to not be able to see it, and maybe it shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does. But it’s not the anger that catches Scar off guard. It’s what lingers beneath it: Grian’s gloved, trembling hands, the way he can’t look Scar in the eye more than a second before having to look away, burying himself in sorting through the first-aid kit for the fourth time as if looking for something to help and, just like every other time, coming up empty-handed.

Grian’s scared.

Scar’s known Grian for years now, and over that time he’s been a lot of things. Angry, judgmental, infectiously funny, bright. But afraid has never been a word Scar has used to describe him.

“Grian…”

“Of course I’m worried,” Grian says, catching Scar off guard. His voice is so quiet, so hushed that Scar wonders if he imagined it. Because something so vulnerable and soft sounding couldn’t come from someone as headstrong and impervious as Grian. It simply isn’t possible. “How could I not be? Have you looked at yourself?”

“Hey.” Scar can’t dream of sitting up, but he manages to leverage himself up just enough to reach for Grian’s wrist. He’ll feel bad about staining Grian’s sleeves with blood later. For now he needs to grab hold of him, pull him in close. To reassure him. “I’m fine. I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m in good hands, yeah?”

“Scar,” Grian says, sounding like he’s about to start crying. He curls his fingers into a weak fist, as if to pull from Scar’s grasp, but he doesn’t try it. He only holds it there, waiting. “I’m not exactly qualified. I’m a bio student, not a—”

“You’re doing fine,” Scar insists, caressing the inner aspect of Grian’s wrist with his thumb. There, he can feel the furious pace Grian’s heart takes on at the touch, like his pulse is ready to leap out from beneath the thin layer of skin. He flashes a smile, just to prove it to Grian. “I’ve bounced back from a lot worse than this. I’m just glad I don’t have to do it alone this time.”

#desert duo #desert duo fic #scarian #<- just in case #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #goodtimeswithscar #grian #birdie writes #sometimes I forget I am a writer and forget to post the things I’ve been writing like a madman #blame fishbloc for making me post this one

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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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theminecraftbee · 1 year

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Doc wakes up slowly. He's had a lovely night of sleep, cozy in bed, dreaming of fantastical misuses of withers. Hotguy gave him an autograph and personally thanked him for finally blowing up Scarland's sound system and getting one over on anyone who might make a button. For some reason, Scar's alien from season six was also there, and then it exploded. That was pretty great too. And everyone had clapped for him, and told him he was the best, most important creeper in the world, and that all of his enemies were just haters, and that they would absolutely listen to all of his opinions, which were perfect, always. And they covered the Hermitcraft server in fresh, ripened tomatoes, and everyone helped him garden them.

It really was a lovely dream. He didn't particularly want to wake up, except perhaps to tell everyone about all of the aforementioned perfect opinions. But alas, even after a perfect, lovely, cozy night of sleep, mad doctors must wake up--

--and scream, as a menacing figure holding a knife looms over his bed. He throws a punch at whoever the person is before thinking and hisses, overestimating his strength and knocking them over. He scrambles for his light.

"Owww," says someone from the floor. Wait.

Doc peers over the edge of his bed. "Grian? What on earth are you doing, man?"

"Almost falling on my knife. You know, this is harder than I thought it would be," Grian says. He is holding his knife in one hand and cradling his now very crooked, bleeding nose with the other. Doc would feel bad, but... ehhh, it's Grian. Who had been standing over his bed with a knife. He probably deserved it for... something or other, Doc'll figure it out.

"You need help?" Doc asks.

"Right. No. Let's get back to this," Grian says, standing up and brandishing the knife again. The effect is much less frightening now that the lights are on, there's blood dripping down the front of Grian's sweater, and it's clear Grian is a bit uncertain of how to look intimidating. "I need you to know Mumbo only has one best friend."

Doc blinks.

"...okay, man?" Doc says.

"What?" Grian says.

"Yeah, like, I don't know what you're talking about. Mumbo and I sometimes talk about redstone, but--"

"You talk about redstone? How dare you! Mumbo is mine, you hear? Mine!"

Doc blinks again, slower. He considers pinching himself. This would be an odd addition to an otherwise lovely, perfect dream, but dreams can become weird nightmares pretty quickly, you know? That would explain why Grian's doing whatever this is.

"I mean, I don't know, he normally comes to me about it?" Doc says.

"Cheater..." Grian says.

"What?" Doc says.

"I can't believe you two! Guh! That was my offended noise!" Grian says.

"Look, uh, I don't really understand what you're doing here man--"

"I'm warning you off of Mumbo! I heard around the block you're his best friend now, so I'm going to kill you now unless you stop that."

Doc squints. "With the knife?" he asks.

"Yes, with the knife!"

"And why am I his best friend?" Doc asks.

"You got the crown! Mumbo said whoever got the purple crown would be his best friend! That's not allowed, only I'm allowed to be his best friend! So I'm, I'm being all threatening! And stuff! Please tell me I'm being threatening," Grian says. "It's been a while since I had to do something like this, I'm modeling off of a different guy I knew, but you know, it's very important to me that you're warned off properly! So there!"

Doc looks at Grian for a while.

"Yeah, uh, man, sure. I'm... really threatened," he says.

"Really?" Grian says.

"Yeah. Really. Very threatened. Hey, uh, my elevator buttons are Grian-proof, supposedly, but I don't know if--"

"Are you--are you trying to distract me by offering me buttons? I'll have you know that doesn't work anymore! Not when it comes to Mumbo!" Grian says. "Although. Hypothetically. If you were telling me there were buttons I could press that you think wouldn't have consequences no matter what I did. That sounds like a challenge."

"Yeah, man, I mean, uh. No. Don't press my buttons--"

"Gotta go bye," Grian says, very quickly, and he shoots out of Doc's bedroom. Doc stares after him through the door.

"I'm going back to fucking bed," Doc says, because frankly, this has convinced him he doesn't need to be awake. And also a security system. A security system that can roast pesky birds. He's sure he can come up with something. Mm. Roast bird. He falls back asleep, vaguely convinced he'd dreamed up the whole incident.

(In the morning, he finds a very grumpy Grian stuck in his elevator. Well. He supposes having to fix it is worth the expression on Grian's face there.)

#hermitcraft #docm77 #grian #a bee fic #okay look just saying grian is NOT gonna be normal about this one folks

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frozenjokes · 2 months

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the (essentially) government raised super weapon needs a little help realizing he also wants to blow shit up in the parking lot out back but luckily cub is here to support <3

snippet below the cut

Idly, from the crack of his ajar bedroom door, Cub watched Scar through gentle eyes, the other sitting at the couch, ever so slightly slumped as he watched the news, or maybe watch was a strong word, because it looked a bit more like he was sleeping. An awake Scar was never so still, so relaxed, the rise and fall of his shoulders never so slow. An awake Scar typically knew when he was being watched, a strong internal sense, and he would turn around, arm draped over the back of the sofa with a lazy smile, and Cub might greet him, or he might just shut the door, the observation not nearly as fun when the other knew he was there. Cub smiled, basking in the opportunity to simply look without being known. Scar’s hair was a certified mess, more than it usually was, the funny little cowlick at the back of his head completely out of control. Not that Scar ever tried very hard to tame it anyway. But today he didn’t have to try at all, because today he was here, and there were no cameras, no scrutiny. Well, maybe there was a little scrutiny, but Grian wasn’t home right now. Just Cub. Just Cub.

Scar’s legs were in the shop today, routine maintenance and things, but instead of spending the day in town as he typically did on these types of off days, he asked to spend it here, to just hang out, relax. Take off the mask and not think at all. And who would Cub be to deny him?

There was something so deeply satisfying seeing him here, out of uniform. He had arrived in it out of necessity; very few people had no legs and wheelchairs decked out in HotGuy merchandise, but Scar had changed once inside, visibly reveling in the luxury of being Here. In a place with people he trusted. No mask. No legs. No uniform. Being.. Scar. Given the nuclear identity crises Scar had been experiencing lately, this was nothing short of the ultimate freedom. And what an honor to be able to provide that, to be trusted enough that even a man so deeply insecure of his place in the world could find it in himself to just relax around you. To be himself. To fall asleep on the sofa without the fear of sharp edges.

Cub ducked out of his room, tip-toeing over to shut off the news. He didn’t care to hear it, and didn’t think it was too good for Scar either, not today. The scene reimagined to his liking, Cub slunk back to his room then walked from it again, normally, and draped his arms around Scar’s neck, humming. Scar roused, and Cub got the pleasure of seeing him blink away sleep.

“Ello,” Scar mumbled, leaning back to hit Cub’s chest with his head, and Cub closed his eyes, a small smile forming across his lips (maybe. Sometimes when he thought he was smiling, he didn’t look any different at all, his mind’s eye only playing tricks on his physical sense of self).

“Hi. You tired?”

Scar gave the question a moment of thought, endearingly, trying to push back further into the couch, like the barrier between them was a great frustration. Cub didn’t make any move to be closer, internally amused. Scar sighed, “Not really. Just got a bit bored, closed my eyes. Was still listening.”

Cub very much doubted that. He didn’t think Scar was lying or anything, just that he simply didn’t know how asleep he really was. No point addressing it though. “That’s good. I was thinking about you, y’know.” Cub snaked around the side of the couch, settling himself half on top of Scar, probably with far less grace than he was imagining. Whatever the case, Scar didn’t seem to care, looking more delighted than anything to have Cub so close.

#hermitcraft #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #cubfan #grian #convex #cubscar #grub #convexian #cubscarian #scarian #fic art #hotguy #CUBGUY #he’s lurking….

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xmaruu11 · 5 months

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Okay I had a question and that's how Hotguy's leg...armor? Brace? How the robotics work in that. I'm really curious considering they apparently break down often.

(if you would like, let me know and I'll come off anon if you don't really wanna spoil stuff! I'm just super super curious how it works)

It’s just a "super" leg supporter ! Basically extra muscles for the leg, helps by holding the body weight and lets him walk around with no walking cane or stuff !

When he gets tired it's a more general body exhaustion rather than just leg pain / exhaustion

They break down often cuz probably they are put in situations they shouldn’t really be in?? And also it shows how much Scar overworks himself and his equipment, causing it to break because of all the stress put into them

#DDVAU

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stiffyck · 1 year

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"Ren, what have you done?!"

"Well, since you weren't gonna save him, I decided to do it myself."

It has been two weeks since Cuteguy has returned and almost a year since everyone’s favorite hero, HotGuy, has sadly passed away. Just earlier today a new villain has appeared- and it looks like CuteGuy will have a lot on his plate. The new villain has given CuteGuy quite some trouble, but the hero stood his ground. From the looks of it, this new villain is not going to give up easily. And by the branding- we can tell he’s working with Ren Dog, also known as the Red King.

We advise all citizens to be on the lookout and be careful for the time being and to not step outside after curfew.

Hopefully, the authorities and the heroes will take care of this new threat before more damage is done.

Thank you for watching today, my name is Pixl Riffs and this is the Hermitopia news.

← prev

Helloooo everyone! Another small update!

Me and @brandyy0moss have a bit different designs and idea but the plot is the same, so just to clear up any confusion: we have different designs, but the plot is all the same and fits in the same universe. We just each do what we find the most fun :D

so be sure to go follow them so you don’t miss any updates from them!

Also, surprise! He’s not dead! Who would have guessed that!

#TOGH AU #goodtimeswithscar #goodtimeswithscar fanart #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanart #my art #facial scarring

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ask-grian · 10 days

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“Hey there! I heard other hermits were doing this, so why not join the fun?”

((DISCLAIMER: I am NOT the real Grian!! This is a gimmick blog!)

((Some things about my Grian: (I’ll make a lore doc if this gets popular enough)

He is an avian! A parrot one, to be exact. He wasn’t always though.

This version of Grian has gone through all the smps and such he’s been in in a streamline order of events, and in regards to the life series, he was pulled out of hermitcraft for them and then plopped right back. (Yes, this includes YHS and Evo!!)

Skyblings? Canon as shit

This bad boy can hold so much catholic guilt in him (Watchers)

NOT the same as @iampoultryman why would you think that???

RULES

Do not spam ask after ask, wait until your first one is answered to send another

Please don’t be lore heavy. This blog is here for fun and as much as I love angst I love sillies too

ooc posts will be in italics and tagged as #author speaks

I occasionally leave mod notes in the tags, look out for them

to avoid spamming the tags I will only use three tags:

#Grian answers - He answered an ask!

#Ask Grian - the tag for this blog

#rp blog - self explanatory

Friends!!:

Etho @asketho

Poultry man @iampoultryman

Bdubs @askbdubsblog

Tango @ask-tangotek

Jimmy @ask-jimmy-solidarity

Scar @ask-gtwscar

Ren @askrendog

Gem @ask-gemgem

Pearl @askpearlescentmoon

Mumbo @ask-mumbojumbo

Marytn @ask-martyn

Xisuma @ask-xisuma

Evil Xisuma @ask-evil-x

Hotguy @ask-hotguy

Cuteguy @ask-cuteguy

Ariana griande @arianagriand3

Grumbot @ask-grumbot

Docm77 @ask-Docm77

Joel @ask-smallishbeans

Zedaph @ask-zedaph

Mother Spore @ask-mother-spore

Cub @ask-cubfan

Cyan Snail @askcyansnail

Lizzie @achaoticgremlin

Doccy @ask-doccy

Jrumbot @ask-jrumbot

Cleo @ask-zcleo

Stress @ask-stressmonster

False @ask-falsesymmetry

ps: join our discord! (16+)

#grian #ask Grian #Grian answers #hermitcraft #hermitblr #rp blog

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secretsandwriting · 3 months

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Even the Destruction of the World Couldn't Keep Me From You

Xisumavoid x reader supervillain au

This is the longest thing I've written in years it feels like. A whole 4.2k words. Also I'm well aware some of their villain names are silly. I just didn't know what to do for them so this is what you got.

You weren’t sure why you of all people were kidnapped. You had of course ran into the Hermits. They were the most notorious group of villains in the area. That was as far as your relationship with any of them went. If you saw a Hermit, you ran, just like how you ran when you saw heroes. The damage from the fights was enough reason to run.

Yet here you were, changed to a wall and locked in a room by so called heroes. To make matters worse, they weren’t even from your city. They were from the city 50 miles away that had the Villain group Empires and yet they kidnapped you to get answers about the Hermits. You didn’t know why they wanted the information or why they wanted it from you. If you had known anything you would have already reported it. But instead here you were chained to a wall and told to shut up when you asked any questions.

You were rethinking your stance on the heroes. This was ridiculous.

“Alright, let’s get started.” The heroes walked in, “What do you know about the Hermits?” He spun a knife around, a clear threat in the movements. “And don’t tell us ‘nothing’. We have proof you know the hermits.”

“But I don’t know the Hermits! I’ve seen them around, and I’ve run from the chaos they’ve caused but other then that all I know is what the heroes have told us!” The guy with the knife sneered.

“You don’t know the Hermits? Then why do I have pictures of you making out with Void?”

What?

Apparently silence wasn’t an accepted thing because his knife sliced through part of your arm and stuck into the wall with a dull thud.

“Do you think I’m stupid? I did my research! I have pictures of you kissing Void! I have videos of you bringing Ninja and Hotguy lunch, dragging G.O.A.T off the battlefield, guiding Zombie to the others and more! You know who they are, so tell me and I might just let you live!”

For what seemed like hours, you were asked questions he claimed you knew the answers to, and when you didn’t give them the right answer another cut was added. Finally something caused them to leave you and let the darkness finally take you. The darkness was kind to you this time and took your pain and replaced it with one of your favorite dreams.

“Come on!” You dragged the taller man behind you, “We have to hurry!”

“I’m sure there will still be cats when we get there.” The male responded. You couldn’t see his fave and his voice was distorted but his hair was black and right across where his face would be was a scar in the shape of an X. You always figured the X met over his nose but there was no way to really know.

“I know, I just don’t want to risk you changing your mind again.” He scoffed.

“I would never change my mind!”

“You’ve changed it 5 times about getting a cat already!” The rest of the way to the shelter was filled with teasing and laughter. The time at the shelter was pretty short however. A small black cat climbed into your lap purring and begging for scratches while a chunky orange cat started attacking the guy. You left the shelter with both.

“She’s waking up X.” A female voice ended your dream. “You can have a few minutes but then we need to check her out and make sure we didn’t miss anything.” Thankfully the room wasn’t too bright when you opened your eyes. Your left hand was gently picked up and squeezed, what felt like a kiss was placed on your palm.

“I’ve missed you darling.” You turned to look at him. The first thing you noticed was the large X scar across his face, the next thing was the soft and gentle look of pure adoration, the third, was his armor. That was Void’s armor. Void the leader of the hermits. Jerking out of his grasp you tried to get away from him.

You can hear someone else trying to calm you down but all you could focus on was Void. The pain that crosses his face the more you try to get away confuses you but not enough to stop. Someone moves between you, blocking your view of him and replacing it with another Hermit. G.O.A.T. Glancing around the large room, you're met with the sight of every single hermit. You were screwed.

The youngest one, the one the new describes as the only non-powered Hermit who seems to be like their child, quickly moved up to you and attached some weird cuffs to your left wrist and his right.

“Anything that happens to you will happen to me while we have these cuffs on.” He then went on to demonstrate it by shocking his finger, when you felt the shock to your own finger you started calming down. Once deemed calm enough, Medic asked you a simple question.

“Why did you panic when you saw X?” Today must be the day of stupid questions.

“Because He’s Void.” The entire room looked at you in confusion.

“He’s your fiance. You have your engagement ring around your neck.” You glanced down at the ring hanging from your necklace then back to the boy handcuffed to you. “Do you-Do you not remember?”

I woke up in the hospital 2 years ago with no memories. Thorn told me my name and where I worked and lived. At the mention of Thorn, X left the room, there was some murmuring from the other hermits before a few of them followed X out. G.O.A.T sent the rest of them out shortly after.

“Even if you don’t remember us, we remember you. Therefore you have nothing to worry about. To us, you are a dear friend and out Brother’s fiance.” G.O.A.T Rested a hand on yours and squeezed softly. “No harm will come to you from us. My name is Doc, Stress and I will be taking care of your medical care. Mumbo is the one cuffed to you.”

You let Mumbo undo the cuffs shortly after and allowed them to treat anything that was left. When they were done, X came back in. Doc had told you his name was Xisuma but most people called him X or some rendition of Xisuma. He was quiet when he came back in, eyes red and cheeks wet from tears. You were perched on the edge of the bed, facing the chair he sat down in.

“Let me be selfish.” You looked up from the spot on the floor you were staring at to look at him. All you could see in his face was desperation and pain. “I know you don’t remember but please let me be selfish. Let me hold you at night and stay by your side through the day. I’ve been looking for you for 2 years and 4 months. Now that I have you back I want to keep you close. So please let me be selfish and allow me to stay with you.”

You weren’t really sure what to say. Void, one of the highest ranking villains in the world, was begging you for something. Not only was he begging, but he was sobbing. You really wanted to go home and forget this ever happened but that didn’t really seem like a choice. A part of you questioned if this was a trap. For what, you didn’t know. Another part of your brain reminds you of your dreams with the man and the X on his face. You weren’t really sure how this was going to go, but maybe saying yes would work out better for you.

“Ok.” You had never seen hope grow in a person so fast.

“Ok as in I can?” At your nod, you found yourself wrapped in strong arms and cradled to his chest. Unsure of what to do, you awkwardly wrapped your arms around him and softly rubbed his back through his armor, you weren’t even sure he could feel it. It seemed to be the right thing however because he held you tighter while he sobbed into your neck.

You weren’t sure how long you were there for, just that when he was done crying, he just stayed in your embrace. When he finally parted from you, he took ahold of your hand and guided you through the halls to a room.

“This is our room.” His voice was soft as he spoke. He guided you through it. Telling you were all of your things were and where his was too. You noticed a ring box on what he said was your side. Probably to hold the supposed engagement ring that was around your neck. After your toured the room, you were given a tour of the whole building. The kitchen, living rooms, dining rooms, bathrooms, otter Hermits rooms and so on. Once he was sure he showed you everything, you were guided back to the kitchen.

Xisuma started cooking, as you watched him work you realized he was making your favorite dish. Not only was he making your favorite, but he was making it exactly how you liked it, with all the little changes and tweaks you preferred.

Not much was said during dinner, but one of your hands was always intertwined with his. After dinner, you were given a tour of the gardens in the back. You made sure to ignore the wavering in his voice like you had earlier. Once that was finished, you went back to your room for the night. Xisuma handed you one of his shirts and some of your shorts before letting you go change in the bathroom. When the door was slightly open, 2 cats shot out and immediately wrapped around your ankles screaming for attention. One of them decided that wasn’t enough, and the orange one started trying to climb up your leg.

“Des and Ed calm down!” Xisuma scolded the cats before detaching the one that was climbing you and snatching the one still around your ankles before it could start climbing you too. “Sorry, they missed you too, and they won’t let me trim their claws.” They were the cats from your dreams. Xisuma clearly took your staring for something else. “You probably don’t remember their names,” He held out the orange cat. “This is Edgar Allen Paw,” next was the black cat. “This i-”

“Furious the Destroyer.” Xisuma lit up and nodded, “I don’t know how I remember that.” The cats were placed back on the floor and you were pulled into another hug.

“Eventually you’ll remember everything, but for now, we’ll take it one day at a time.” He gave a small squeeze before letting you go change. The shorts fit perfectly, but Xisuma’s shirt was big on you. It ended shortly before your knees. The smell of it was familiar and comforting but you couldn’t place why exactly it felt like that. So you left the bathroom and found yourself tucked into bed with Xisuma curled up around you.

“I’m always comfortable when I’m laying with you!” the faceless man with the scar exclaimed, you laughed and dodged a lazy hand swung at you, the force behind it was so weak his arm fell shortly after.

“You say that, but if we stay like this you’ll be complaining your back hurts tomorrow and I’ll have to listen to it all day!” He sighed before burying his head in your neck and placing feather light kisses on any skin he could reach.

“Let's just stay for a little longer.” The request was murmured against your skin. “We’ll go to bed in a minute but for now I just want to stay here with you.” You sighed but let one of your hands wander to his dark hair.

“If you fall asleep, I don’t want to hear a single word about your back hurting.” He hummed in agreement, and nuzzled his head closer to your neck. He fell asleep in seconds and you felt yourself shaking your head before joining him in sleep.

When you woke up, it was still dark and Xisuma was still curled into your side, sound asleep. You checked the clock on the nightstand, 12:46 am. Lovely. Xisuma must have noticed your sigh in his sleep and moved closer.

The thought that Hypno’s dream manipulation powers was the cause for your dreams crossed your mind again. The dreams seemed so personal and intimate that the thought that they weren’t actually yours felt so wrong.

You turned your gaze towards Xisuma. You couldn’t see much in the dark and his head was tucked into your neck, but the rest of him was somehow curled around you too. Everytime you twitched or moved, he immediately moved closer.

Clingy.

The thought flew through your head and you had to fight the urge to laugh. It didn’t work. You found yourself giggling in the dark desperately trying to stop so you didn’t wake Xisuma. It was too late for that.

“Whats so funny?” Xisuma’s voice was groggy and he was clearly trying not to move from his spot. You weren’t sure you wanted to tell him but you were probably going to have to. If you could ever catch your breath between giggles.

“The big bad Void who’s known for his ruthlessness and path of destruction is clingy.” You started giggling harder as he groaned.

“You said that when you found out the first time. But you went with a clingy simp then.” The giggling got worse at the addition of simp. Something you could see with how the day had been. Xisuma just groaned again. “Is this going to last for an hour again?”

As the days went on, you got used to the hermits and Xisuma’s constant need to touch you. No one ever told you anything that could explain how or why you lost your memory. Well, that was until you were kidnapped again. This time by someone who looked identical to Xisuma but with red armor and white hair. You found yourself seated in a comfortable chair with a mug of your favorite tea in your hands.

“So, what did Xisuma do to make you leave for 2 years?” He asked as he settled into his chair and sipped his tea. Something about him seemed familiar, and not just his similar looks to Xisuma. He felt almost comfortable to be around.

“I lost my memory 2 years ago and they found me about a week ago when a hero kidnapped me and tortured me for information. He just stared at you for a second before putting his drink down.

“So you don’t remember anything from before 2 years ago?” You nodded. “Explains why you went radio silent for 2 years… Well in that case, I’m Xavier, Xisuma’s clone… Whats the first thing you remember?”

“Waking up in the hospital and Thorn explaining I had been caught in a hero villain fight. When I said I couldn’t remember anything he found where I lived and worked.”

“Of course it was Thorn.” He seemed to notice your interest. “They didn’t tell you about Thorn did they?” He sighed and picked up his drink, taking a sip while he gathered his thoughts. “Of course they didn’t.”

“Thorn didn’t start as a hero, he was originally a vigilante. Well, he caught the hermits' attention. Thorn was hoping they would ask him to join them, but they weren’t interested in him joining. They wanted him gone, not because he was trying to stop them or too heroic or something like that. They wanted him gone because he had gone off the deep end and while the hermits are villains, they have morals. Thorn does not.” He sipped his tea.

“When he realized they were after him for reasons he didn’t want. He told them he would make them regret it, especially Xisuma. He thought the same thing most people think, because Xisuma is called the leader. Most people think he makes all the decisions when in reality, it's a group vote. While it’s not confirmed, it is theorized that Thorns powers are memory related due to some past things.”

“So that’s why Xisuma left the room when I mentioned him.” Xavier nodded. Taking a sip of your own drink, you mulled over the information. “How do I get my memories back then?”

“No idea. No one’s said anything about it before. Have you gotten any back?” Your dreams popped into your head.

“I’ve been having dreams… But I don’t know if they’re actually memories. I can’t see anyone specific, just a form with a recognizable feature I guess.” Xavier nodded.

“If it’s dreams, maybe Hypno could help unlock more. I don’t really know how it works but it's worth a shot.” After that, the conversation just flowed through other much lighter topics until Xavier decided it was time to return you back to Xisuma.

You didn’t bring it up to Hypno until a week later. You requested that Xisuma not know about it yet and while reluctant Hypno understood your reasoning. Better not to get his hopes up when no one knew if it would work. One night a week, Hypno would try to make your dreams become clearer without messing them up. It didn’t make a difference, but you both decided to continue trying.

As the weeks dragged on, you found yourself becoming attached to the hermits, not minding it when Xisuma came to you and wrapped you into some sort of physical touch and anxiety and nervousness of being around them went away.

Weeks turned into months and nothing new had come back in the terms of memories. You could tell it was bothering Xisuma and the other hermits as much as it did you. Hypno continued trying to help you in your dreams, but it wasn’t doing anything.

So you did the only thing you could think of. Think back on that hospital visit with Thorn to see if you could remember anything that he might have given away. You spent hours every day trying to think of something but it wasn’t until XB invited you to go swimming in the pool like you used to that something popped into your mind.

“Make sure to avoid ocean water. We found you there and I would hate for you to have a PTSD episode.”

That’s how you found yourself at the beach, starting at the ocean waves in front of you. You were far enough away that the water didn’t even touch you. Just taking a moment to prepare yourself for the cold water. Thankfully, due to the late hour, no one else was there. Which also meant if anything happened, no one would be there to help.

Taking a deep breath, you walked forwards. Not stopping until your head was underwater.

“Your usual?” You asked Xisuma.

“Of course, are you going to spell my name completely wrong again?” You smiled.

“Of course!” He laughed and shook his head before moving down the line to wait at the counter that the finished drinks went too.

While you were writing a horrible rendition of his name that was so far off it didn’t even sound similar, one of your coworkers gave you a wink and a look, clearly trying to convince you to go through with writing your number on his cup. Sighing, you finally committed to it, writing the digits down while your coworkers silently celebrated behind you.

Two hours later, you got a text from him.

—

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Xisuma stared at you from his spot on the bench next to you.

“What’s stopping you?” Xisuma hesitated for a second before taking it as the invitation it was. He was so gentle and careful and he pulled you closer, one of his hands resting against your waist the other at the back of your neck.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

—

“Why do you want me to let you into Xisuma’s room?” You asked Grian and Scar who stood in the doorway. Xisuma had left for some sort of meeting and you were getting ready to go to work when Grian and Scar knocked on the door.

“We want to dye some of his clothes pink.”

“Just make sure he still has one white button up and a pair of nice black pants when your done, we have a date Friday and if it gets postponed because you messed all his clothes up I will personally arrange your torture and death.” They both shivered and nodded. You made sure to ignore them while you finished getting ready.

—

“I have something I need to tell you.” Xisuma pulled you away from your project and to a nearby couch in your room. “I’m the villain Void.” You blinked at him.

“Did you really have to pull me from my project for a joke?” You sighed.

“No, I’m serious, I’m Void.” He opened a small rift next to you, hoping that this wouldn’t be the end of the relationship. He struggled to read anything off of you as you stared at the rift.

“But you're just a clingy simp who can barely remember where you leave things.” Xisuma snorted. Of course you would say that. “Is that why you always have so many bruises, why your gone so late sometimes and why you always give such bad excuses for not being able to do things?” Xisuma nodded, holding his breath.

“I understand it's a lot to process but I need you to know this doesn’t change anything. I love you and always have loved you and will always continue to love you.”

“I just need some time to think about this.”

Later that night, you woke him up with your giggling.

—

“They’re so lucky I like all of them.” You sighed as you tried calling Xisuma again. He didn’t answer. Neither did Tango, Etho, Impulse or Doc. There was one other person you could call who could find them easily.

“Hey Iskall, sorry to bother you. Do you know where Xisuma, Etho, Tango, Impulse and Doc are? They didn’t eat breakfast or take lunch so I’m trying to bring them some but no one will answer their phone.” Within seconds, Iskall had hacked their phones and gave you a location. Thankfully it wasn’t too far away.

When you showed up. All five were huddled over some contraption they were making, not paying much attention to their surroundings.

“It’s a good thing I’m not a hero or you all would have been captured in seconds.” The entire group turned to look at you like deer in the headlights. “I brought you lunch since none of you have eaten today, but considering how none of you answered my texts or calls I’m not sure you really want it.”

Immediately there were apologies and protests. You just laughed at them as they tried to defend themselves. Eventually you decided to accept whatever they were saying as good enough and handed out the lunches to the five. Xisuma was kind enough to give you a kiss before he dug in like the rest of the group.

“More of the hermits need to get into relationships if this is the treatment we get from it!” You laughed at Etho’s statement before saying goodbye and heading to work.

—

“This way!” Xisuma tugged you over to the Gazebo in the middle of the gardens you were visiting. “It has the best view of all the flowers.”

Xisuma wasn’t lying when he claimed it was the best view. Fields of flowers of all types were laid out in front of you. The sunlight made the bright colors pop out of the green, the smell of the flowers was strong and sweet, making it so you never wanted to leave.

You turned to Xisuma to see his reaction, only to find him down on one knee with a ring in his hand. You didn’t even let him give the little speech he had clearly practiced before saying yes and letting yourself drop into his arms. There in his arms, he whispered something in your ear.

“Even the destruction of the earth couldn’t keep me away from you.”

The ring was slid onto your fingers and when you got back to the main building, the other hermits swarmed the two of you.

You were pulled out of the water, gasping for breath. You hadn’t realized you had been under for that long. Glancing up, you were met with Xisuma’s terrified face. Xisuma, your fiance, the love of your life. You didn’t even know how you could have forgotten.

Xisuma clearly wasn’t expecting to be pulled into a kiss after pulling you up from the bottom of the ocean but he melted into it either way. His arms tightened around your waist and one of your hands found it’s way to the back of Xisuma’s head.

“Even the destruction of the earth couldn’t keep me away from you.” Xisuma teared up, desperately searching your eyes. “I remember Xisuma. I remember everything!” You found yourself being pulled back down into another kiss.

“We should head back to shore.” Xisuma’s voice was thick and shaking against your lips, you wiped his tears from his face before stealing another kiss.

“Let's go home Xisuma.”

#hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft x gn reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #xisuma x reader #hermitcraft xisuma #xisumavoid x reader #xisumavoid x you #xisumavoid x gn reader #xisuma x gn reader

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royallygray · 2 months

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@periwinklepaint

Here is a scene I wrote for an au (that I really need a name for bc it dominates my thoughts).

Bit (a lot) of background on this AU: It's supposed to be a superhero/urban fantasy/soulmate au. Everyone has some degree of magic, they just have to learn to harness it. All soulmate pairs are the canon ones from Double Life.

Scar (Hotguy) and Gem (Fauna) are heroes. Grian (Chaos Sparrow) is a vigilante. Pearl (Scarlet) is a villain. Jimmy is just a civilian, but he's a victim of the prophecy (basically just the Canary Curse).

It was supposed to be Scarian mild annoyance to lovers and Gempearl enemies to lovers, but it has gotten more focused on the:

Scar & Gem besties relationship,

the Grian & Pearl chaos skyblings relationship,

the Grian & Pearl & Jimmy & Lizzie skybling/seabling relationship,

the Scar & Pearl depression villain arc relationship,

and Gem & Grian's sibling dynamic.

At this point in the story, our four main characters (Gem, Scar, Grian, and Pearl) have made a deal. The higher-ups at the Hero Corp want to interrogate Scarlet (Pearl) for information because she's not only the primary villain of the city, she's also the leader of the underground, who are presumably the people who want to assassinate Jimmy (if he dies, it's basically Ragnarok). Pearl does not have control over individual people or groups in the underground, she just runs the system.

The Hero Corp wants Gem and Scar to retrieve Pearl and bring her to them. So Gem and Scar set up a meeting, since there is mutual trust between the four of them.

The conclusion was that they could take Pearl, but Grian would take one of the heroes as collateral so that he could ultimately get her back. They decided to exchange Gem rather than Scar because they knew that Gem is the Hero Corp's precious baby and they'd be desperate to get her back, which ensures Pearl's release. Additionally, Scar's magic is incredibly strong since he's a fae. He has a natural advantage that bypasses some of Pearl's talent in magic.

So he places a curse on her that can only be broken if Scar chooses to break it. Basically it prevents her from flying (she's got wings, so does Grian), getting out of range of Scar, and the curse includes the ability to control whether the person the curse is placed on can talk or not, but Scar refuses to utilize it.

Also since Scar is a fae, he can't lie. But he does have a silver tongue that easily gets around the lying factor. Also he doesn't know that he and Grian are soulbound. Also Gem doesn't have a soulbound. Also I'm really insecure about posting this like I think it's cool but maybe other people won't think it's cool but an IRL friend really liked it but idk and I did write this all on discord because I needed to explain the scene to said friend and it was going to be easier to just write it and AAAAAA

okay here are some words of scar being a badass byeeeee

-- --

The Hero Corp keeps insinuating that Scar is working with the villains. They keep insisting that he break more and more of his morals to find more stuff.

And finally, he just goes "Do you want a villain? Because I can give you one.”

And it's dead silent.

No one says shit.

Gem's apprentice, Guqqie, is there with their jaw dropped.

Scar's usually green eyes are glowing red.

He's angry.

"It seems to me that you want a villain," Scar says, his voice echoing in the silent room. "I can give you one. Isn't that what you want?”

No one says anything.

Scar's red eyes burn into the side of [boss]'s skull. "I thought you wanted a villain.”

Some people are staring at him. Some are trying to get out of this room. Some are trying to ignore what's happening.

"Did you not want a villain?" Scar asks. "I don't appreciate lying.

"I can't lie," Scar says. "I'm not sure if you know this, but I cannot lie. I feel like maybe you'd extend the same courtesy for me.”

"Do you want a fucking villain?" Scar snaps. "Or are you just unsatisfied with me having boundaries? Not liking how you compare me to Fauna and wish I got taken instead? Realizing that Villains are people too?”

It wouldn't've been terrible to be taken by Sparrow (Grian, Scar thought with mild wonder. A beautiful name. His heart fluttered, despite the situation), but the thought still stood. [boss] didn't know that Sparrow wouldn't hurt him.

"Don't you want a villain?" Scar asks, quietest yet. "Don't you?" More silence. The clock on the wall ticks. Scar can hear his heavy breath in time with his heartbeat. "Well, I'll give you one." He rips his hero badge from around his neck and lays it on the table. "I resign.”

And he stalks away, the explosion of "no!"s and "why?"s and "HOTGUY GET BACK HERE!"s blocked out by his mind.

And he walks up to his apartment, his mild haven here, and sees Pearl and Jimmy. He snaps his fingers, lifting Pearl's curse. She looks up in alarm, and Jimmy follows suit.

"We're leaving." Scar tells them, leaving no room for argument. "And we're not coming back.”

#mcyt #life series #traffic life series #traffic smp #trafficblr #traffic life #trafficshipping #mcyt fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic writing #life series fanfic #goodtimeswithscar #scarian #soul horizon au

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