#someone asked about joe and cleo.

[theminecraftbee]

Also, shoutout to Impulse for getting stuck in two of those worlds in ONE DAY. Joe revealed that the recording for what we now know as vault hunters was also last monday. Impulse is really going through it.

Impulse sweats. For the past several minutes, Iskall has been staring at him and "hmmm"-ing for some reason. His only solace is that he's also doing it to Etho, but it's still making Impulse feel like he's got something weird on his face. That, or Iskall has suddenly and unexpectedly transformed back into his original villager state. One or the other.

He glances at Etho, who shrugs awkwardly at Impulse. He looks back at Iskall, who is still 'HMMM'-ing, increasingly furiously.

"Do you think he wants us to say something?" Etho asks.

"I mean, I guess?" Impulse says. "He could just ask."

"He's just going to keep humming at us, though," Etho says. "That's scary."

"Scary?" Impulse says, blankly.

"HMMMMM," Iskall says with an irritated expression.

"Scary," Etho confirms. Impulse sighs.

"Okay, I'll handle it. Hey, Iskall," Impulse says.

"Oh, I didn't see you there," Iskall blatantly lies.

"Right. You're, uh, sounding a bit concerned, buddy," Impulse says.

"Right, yes. Very concerned. Did you know you and Etho are already claimed? And, like, super cursed."

"Uh, I got a divorce with Cleo, you know," Etho says, completely straight-faced. "I'm a bachelor now. Not claimed by anyone."

"I'm not sure Bdubs and I ever got a divorce," Impulse says.

"No, no, not claimed like that! Claimed like--I did warn you all, yes? That my patrons would not like it if you came with other gods all over you? They get jealous of each other, let alone whoever you have... doing that to you."

Impulse and Etho glance at each other again. Impulse looks back at Iskall. "Yeah, I think I'd remember if I were claimed by any gods. I don't really... worship any, these days."

"If I worship any gods, Iskall, they're not the kind yours can do anything about," Etho says.

"What?" Impulse says.

"I mean, I'm old! I'm old, Impulse! I've met a lot of gods! Some of them I have opinions on!" Etho says.

"No, I've met yours too, they won't cause problems, yeah?" Iskall says.

"Thank goodness," Etho says.

"Sometimes I forget how old you two are," mutters Impulse. "That doesn't answer the whole... already claimed?"

"Yeah, like, it stinks off of you to me. It's like... you've got... someone's already claimed you to kill players, not mobs. And your health is all wonky. And you're keeping secrets or... kept secret? And don't even get me STARTED on how much time you have. All wrong. Who did you even find to do that to you?"

Impulse freezes.

"...the time was last season," he says, finally.

"Last season? What?" Iskall says.

"Yeah, that was--you know what, tell your gods not to worry about it," Impulse says. "I'm sure it's. Fine? Hey, wait, how can you tell?"

Iskall shakes his head like he's trying to knock something out of his ear. "They're annoying about it. Make whatever curse you're under go away while you're here or they're going to make it my problem. Mine! As though I can do anything about it. Go to the mortal world, they say. Bring your friends back here, they say. We want to meet them, they say. They're so annoying."

Etho, without skipping a beat, says: "Yeah, are those gods or the mother I saw last night?"

There's an ominous roll of thunder.

"Oh, definitely your mom," he says. There is a second, even more ominous roll of thunder happens, somehow entirely focused on Etho's location. Impulse decides to ignore it.

"I'll bother Grian about it," Impulse decides. He somewhat doubts Grian is a god--man, he really, really hopes Grian isn't a god, actually--but maybe he knows that Secret Keeper guy. That feels like the kind of guy who probably did this to them.

"Do that," Iskall says, and he wanders off to bother Stress.

Etho watches him go. "You know, maybe we should worry about the fact we're cursed because of the Life games. That seems, uh, bad," he says.

Impulse thinks about it and shrugs. "Eh, what's the worst that can happen?"

A long silence.

"Don't answer that," he tells the silence, before it can ominously thunder again. He knows the kinds of things that will lead to gods mocking him, after all.

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Contrary to both Mumbo and Grian's previous statments, neither of them have two Braincells. In fact, the Hermitcraft server has a grand total of eight. One for False, Stress, Cleo (although hers likes to wander a bit) Gem, Pearl, Joe and Wels. The remaining Braincell is coded to randomly switch between all the other hermits, via a randomizer X installed as a joke in S1 and then promptly forgot about. Its entirely possible to have two Braincells at once, and when someone does... oh boy...

If any particular hermit really needs a braincell, and the randomizer isn't kind to them, they'll have to ask one of the current braincell holders to lend theirs out for a bit. Braincell loans from multiple people at once are strictly prohibited, after Scar talked his way into a total of four indefinite loans at the same time before anyone managed to stop him.

-Mod Mleem

[bad-traffic-smp-ideas]

ngl I didn't realize that the secretkeeper rock was shaped like a hooded face (i saw the watchery stuff and that blinded me to everything else lol) so when the intro referred to the secret keeper as a "who" I thought they meant they had like. Whitelisted someone new to be an NPC type character who would sit mysteriously in a cave and hand out the tasks.

and then once someone completed their secret they'd report how they did it to the secretkeeper, who could help determine if it counted. (honestly i think this would've been handy, bc i saw multiple POVs where the players were unsure about the details of their task's requirements but like. Couldn't ask anyone for obvious reasons.)

anyways if they did do that i would like to nominate joe hills from Nashville TN doing his best spooky voice.

((all the players do their own thing in terms of any joe-related lore. Martyn layers ominous whispering voices underneath Joe's and only refers to him as "the secretkeeper" (cue ominous music), and then Cleo's video is just "And now we're gonna go get our secret task from Joe. Hi, Joe!" "Hi cleo! :D"))

THIS WOULD BE SO FUN!!!!!!

[the-joju-experience]

Scar saw the poll turn green. He cheered to himself and smirked.

“About time someone acknowledged my sexiness,” Scar said to himself. He scrolled back up to the bracket, looking for his next competitor. He read the name and paused.

Technoblade.

He swallowed a large mouthful of air. Behind him, he heard the sick sound of steel scraping its scabbard.

---

“Doc, my brother from another mama!” Ren shouted. He leaned over the edge of the Perimeter, looking for his friend. “Did’ja see the bracket? We’re up against each other!” He heard nothing.

“Doc?” Ren shouted slightly louder.

“I heard, Ren,” Doc said. Ren turned around slowly, finding Doc standing over him in his ripped lab coat, taut muscles exposed to the elements that surrounded him. “And I’m sorry that your time in the bracket has to end this way.”

---

“Oi, Pearl!” Cleo said, landing next to their fellow hermit.

“Hiya, Cleo!” Pearl said. “Is this about the bracket?”

"Yep,” Cleo said. “I just wanted to stop by and say, no hard feelings.”

“Why would there be hard feelings?” Pearl asked.

“Well, no one’s heard from Zloy since I beat him into a pulp,” Cleo said. “I just wanted to make sure you knew there’s no shame in losing.”

“What makes you think you’re gonna win?”

Cleo arched her eyebrows menacingly and glared at Pearl.

“No, Pearl, I don’t think I’m going to win,” they said. “I know.”

---

“Hi Joel!” BDubs shouted. His head had just shot up out of a bush on Joel’s island.

“Good lore, BDubs!” Joel shouted, quickly moving his foot out of the way. “How did you even get here?”

“The power of my sexy prowesses!” BDubs said enthusiastically. He disentangled himself from the foliage and drew himself up to full height, which was not particularly tall. “You know what they’re saying about me on the Tumbles, right?”

“I think they actually think I’m sexier,” Joel said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” BDubs said, attempting to throw his arm over Joel’s shoulder. Unfortunately, he couldn’t reach, so he awkwardly backed away with an outstretched arm.

“I am, as you know, a very tall and sexy god of lore,” Joel said. “I think that beats ‘weird mossy dwarf’ any day.”

---

Scott cursed as he slipped on a rock. He had been crawling through the wilderness for several hours, searching for his competitor, but he had finally come close. He checked his map one more time, seeing how far he had come. Looking up, he saw a small wooden cabin. He approached it and knocked on the door.

Etho opened it, allowing savory smoke to waft into Scott’s nose.

“What’s up?” Etho asked.

“I just came to tell you…” Scott said nervously, “we’re up against each other in the bracket...”

“Oh, that’s fun!” Etho said.

“And that I’m going to tell my fans that if they don’t vote for me they’re homophobic,” Scott said.

Scott couldn’t see it, but deep down he knew that Etho was frowning disapprovingly.

---

Grian walked into Mumbo’s base, following some weird, high-pitched noise from his own base.

“MumboJumbo!” a voice was singing. “I am hotter!”

"Mumbo?” Grian whispered hopefully. Following the sound, he walked deeper, approaching the slight opening in the walls of Mumbo’s vault. The noise grew, and Grian’s hopes grew with it.

Those hopes deflated when he entered and saw Slimecicle dropping slimeballs on every surface.

“MumboJumbo!” the autotuned voice continued. “Come and fight me!”

Grian sighed heavily, turned, and left.

---

Wilbur was walking towards his front door when he noticed Joe Hills sitting on his porch.

“Oh,” Wilbur said. “You’re Joe, right?”

"Yes I am!” Joe said.

“Is this about the bracket?” Wilbur asked.

“Oh, that silly thing?” Joe said. “No, not in the slightest! I just wanted to say howdy!”

“Do you want to come in or something?” Wilbur offered. “I have soup if you want it. And I’ve been told I make some pretty good burgers.”

“No, that’s fine,” Joe said. “I’m good just sitting right here.”

“OK, then,” Wilbur said, opening the door. He walked inside and looked around. On a hunch, he checked upstairs. Nothing was amiss. He came back down to find Joe sitting exactly where he had left him.

“Are you going to… move or something?” Wilbur asked.

“No, I think I’ll sit right here for the next…” he checked his phone. “22 hours and 57 minutes.”

---

Grian returned to his cave to find Quackity lounging on a dark oak stair in front of the portal.

“Hiya!” Quackity said.

"Oh no,” Grian said nervously. “What do you want?”

“I thought I’d skip ahead a bit and try to cut a deal,” he said. “You see, I know I can’t win against you. You’ve got way too many stans.”

“Look, if this is about the bracket, I don’t really care-”

“Look, Grian. I have an offer.” Quackity stood up and walked towards the hermit. “Let’s pool our votes and form a ticket together. We can be co-sexymen!”

“No no no no no,” Grian said. “I’ve heard this story before.”

“But I have to beat Wilbur!” Quackity said. “Come on, man. What the fu-”

“Nope!” Grian interjected, shoving Quackity back through the Rift.

Behind him, Grumbot lit up. He whirred briefly, and then spat out a message.

WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT?

“This is a family-friendly server, Grumbot,” Grian said.

[raichett]

So, I’ve been thinking a fair bit recently about how the Hermitcraft servers, in-universe, actually function on a social and micro-cultural level. 

A list of real life facts:

1. They have unlimited respawns on Hermitcraft. Death is generally either funny or an inconvenience, and pranks resulting in death are very much allowed, even fairly common. Scar, for example, in his Hotguy persona, literally goes around and shoots people with his bow for fun (and it’s considered a little rude to not die if you’ve been Hotguy’d). 

2. Hermits are invite-only and it’s a rather exclusive server; if a (rare) guest is whitelisted, it is only temporary. Many new Hermits are suggested and supported by an already existing Hermit, and there is a phase where a potential new Hermit is researched before any invite is sent. Once you’ve received an invite, there’s no taking it back, and there’s no probationary period. Hermits (and potential Hermits) are not obliged to either accept nor to stay, however! Many former Hermits have left amiably, and some have even come back after missing a season or two, like Keralis.

3. When it comes to server-wide decisions, everyone has to agree or else it won’t happen. It’s quite literally all-or-nothing on Hermitcraft. And everyone has a say and everyone’s voice is weighed the same, no matter how long or short they’ve been there. 

4. Many Hermits are pioneers or big names in their field (Doc and Tango in redstone, Grian and Scar in building, etc.), or else have been around in MCYT circles for a long time (e.g. Etho and Xisuma). This is not true for every Hermit, but there is distinctly an element of this in the line-up as a whole. It is also very common for Hermits to ask for help/opinions from other Hermits whose specialities are different from their own.

5. Mega-builds and mega-projects are the norm on Hermitcraft. It’s generally expected for a Hermit to take months and months on creating a starter base, then a mega base, at least one shop, usually a mini-game or two for server-wide events, etcetera etcetera. Not every Hermit does this, or does this every season, but most do.

6. Hermitcraft has very, very few rules: griefing is allowed, stealing is allowed, etc. No, really! You can do just about anything on Hermitcraft - so long as you’re prepared to deal with the consequences, and to make reparations if you actually hurt someone’s feelings.

7. It does, however, work on what are called “gentleman’s rules”: that is, if you make a mess, you clean it up, basically. If you prank someone, expect a retaliatory prank, which you have to take in good humour. If you destroy (by accident or design) someone’s items or builds, you’re expected to replace/reimburse/help set it to rights. The entire Hermitcraft economy (the shopping district) works on an honesty box design. Good sportsmanship is the name of the game on Hermitcraft. In the words of Grian himself: “We prank hard, but we clean up harder.”

8. As touched on before, no one on Hermitcraft actually has authority over anyone else. Some people have admin access (Xisuma, Tango, Joe Hills, etc.) but everyone’s voice weighs the same, even if some people have stepped up to take the lead when it comes to the engineering minutiae of maintaining a very popular server.

9. Every Hermit in the current line-up (Season 9 at the time of writing this) is an adult. I can only think of one person who was not an adult when they joined Hermitcraft and that is Mumbo Jumbo, who was 16 or 17 at the time, I think. Most of these people have life experiences and careers before MCYT. Some of them have only recently ceased to be part-time youtubers/streamers and change to full time as they quit jobs to pursue it (e.g. Cleo, Impulse, etc.). 

So, what does all this mean in-universe? Well... 

- Death is temporary, and very little weight is assigned to it, save that if you kill someone for a prank, expect to be pranked fatally in return. There is very little angst to be mined here.

- The Hermits’ expectations of other Hermits generally boil down to “good sportsmanship”, “willing to lend a hand/their expertise if they’re open to doing so” and “willingly accepts consequences for their own actions”. If you don’t follow these expectations at least most of the time, you’re not really acting in a way that is considered acceptable to the rest of the server, and you’re not fitting into the community on Hermitcraft.

- No Hermit takes on any particular authority figure role, neither in the sense of a boss or manager who looks after things on a professional level, nor in the sense of someone taking on a parental role for anyone else. Friendships are certainly encouraged, and Hermits have varying social relationships with each other, but there really is no “mum friend” or “dad friend” around, excepting the occasional joke, there really just isn’t. And there aren’t any Hermits who seem to want to take on this role.

- The closest I can describe the micro-culture of Hermitcraft in real world terms is “university/college dorm full of mature students (mature students = people not fresh out of secondary school/high school)”. They are all busy with their own massive projects, and then on a social level are out to have a good, slightly chaotic, time. They’ve generally got a good sense of identity, or are blossoming into the kind of creator/person they want to be, because they’re in an environment that encourages growth and ambition while (contrary now to the university/college metaphor) not punishing failure. 

- Hermitcraft is a place of “healing” only in the sense that it is a place where people have a fresh start to dedicate themselves to massive projects and become a part of an exclusive but generally helpful and kind community. The only expectations are that you take responsibility for yourself and your own actions, and if you dish out something you’d better be prepared for it to be volleyed back to you; all of these are fair, in my personal opinion. Some people absolutely thrive on such an opportunity! Some others do not.

- Hermitcraft is exclusive, and not everyone who visits the server gets to stay there. To be offered an invite to become a Hermit requires you to be a good fit for the server and its community, and for everyone to agree on that. If even one Hermit doesn’t want someone there, they won’t be invited. That being said, the Hermits are mature individuals, and if you’re not a friend, then you can at least be a colleague. But if you can’t even be that... well. Hermits don’t offer invitations quickly, due to the fact that there is no probationary period; you’re either in or you’re not.

- LARPing is fairly common, wars are games, and everyone there is just out to have fun at the end of the day. If you don’t want to be involved in whatever “storyline” is currently being acted out on the server, you’ve got to manually say so and tap out. You can just say “sorry, busy with my mega-build, have fun at the war” and be left in peace. And these play-pretend games are not necessarily server-wide, either. Not everyone wants to be involved, and those who don’t aren’t pressured to be. But they do very much happen, and pretty frequently. 

And... yeah, that’s about it. Hermitcraft is a world where a bunch of people are basically running wild and free, able to create huge projects and have fun with their friends (in that distinct adults-who-don’t-have-to-go-to-work-and-are-free-to-be-who-they-wish-to-be kind of way), and while the in-universe reality of any storyline can be up for debate in fandom (e.g. in Season 5, was the jungle actually possessing people or were they just LARPing that?), at the end of the day, most of what happens is in good fun and good sportsmanship. And that is what it means to be a Hermit.

[aliteral-ghost]

This is the piece I did for @hermitzine! It was so much fun to be a part of this project and get to work with everyone! The theme of this zine was music and I hope that's obvious in this piece :)

~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the record skipping is Joe’s alarm clock this morning, and it’s only because it skips multiple times that he actually gets up. Darn, he slept in again, and now he has to stay up late again so he can finish the parts of the machine that he needs to get done, and it’ll just end with him sleeping in again. At least he has–oh. The record that has been playing all night (and also for the past few weeks, if he’s honest) has a massive groove in it, tearing through all of the ridges and splintering the vinyl.

“Aw, man,” Joe mutters, staring at the destroyed disk in his hands. “That’s my last one of those.” To be fair, he probably should have expected something like this to happen after using the record player while placing hundreds of blocks of sand, but it’s still sad. To be fair, this has happened to the last five disks he overplayed, but Joe is nothing if not persistent. 

The next day he and Cleo are halfway through their weekly crafting session when they hum. “No music today?” Joe waves a hand.

“Some days the best music is the sound of nature around you.” He sets down a pencil and listens to said sound of nature, which is currently someone very violently chopping down trees. “You know, be in the moment, and all that.” He’s never lived in the moment once in his life and they both know it, but then again neither has Cleo.

“Sure.” Cleo pauses for just a minute. “Not this music, though. Ugh, who is…” They both glance over across the river, where Keralis is hard at work collecting wood. He pauses briefly to wave once he’s noticed them looking, smiling widely. They both wave back and Keralis continues, moving on to the next tree.

“Do you ever think about how our lives have a soundtrack?” Joe says after a minute, mindlessly coloring the sheets of paper he brought, tracing out the blueprint for a part of the pinball machine. Cleo looks over from where she’s drawing in her own notebook. 

“No?” They say, voice lilting up like a question. “I don’t? Why, do you?” She wrinkles her eyebrows, more focused on the calligraphy than really focusing on the conversation. It’s how they roll, most weeks. Joe talks and Cleo nods along.

“Well, sure! I like to think about the song that might be playing while things are happening. For a while, it was otherside, but…” Cleo glances over again, this time more interested. 

“You broke all of your disks, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I must have played them in the sand too much or something. Whomp, whomp.” He follows the statement up with a laugh, sort of high-pitched and frantic. “D’you think we all have different soundtracks then, if we do?”

“Oh, for sure,” Cleo says, in a voice that still sounds like they’re just humoring him. “Like Doc? His soundtrack is all scary, like heavy metal, right? There’s no way he and Scar have the same backing tracks.” They pause for just a second. “No, I lied. Doc’s isn’t heavy metal, he’s too much of a softie. Pearl’s is. She’s bloody hardcore.”

That’s an accurate assumption, Joe guesses. He hasn’t been privy to much Pearl has done this season, but he’s fairly certain she just built an entire Ender dragon out of pilfered dragon eggs. If there’s someone able to intimidate Cleo, it’s her.

“So what’s yours, then?” Cleo asks, setting her pen down and leaning on her hands. “Whatever song you’re obsessed with now over and over?”

“I don’t have much time for anything else.” Joe laughs again. “Besides, sometimes the best soundtrack is the same song, over and over, just played at different tempos depending on mood.”

This earns him a patented Cleo lookTM as she turns back to her journal, picking up a small knife. They don’t talk for a while after that, instead listening to the leaves rustle, water flow, and trees topple. 

“Here,” they say eventually, after the wood-collecting has gotten to be too much, and pass Joe a record. “Put this on, I know you’re aching to.” He gasps, energy he hasn’t felt in a while jolting through him, and pulls out his jukebox. 

“Thanks, Cleo!”

The aforementioned record is a simple piano tune, the melody and harmony weaving in and out of each other’s path, spinning down the river and floating high into the air. It fills the server with its music, and although Joe knows that the little song is barely reaching further than Keralis he’d like to think that Tango, in the depths of Decked Out 2, and False, high up on a snowy peak, and Grian and Doc, fighting their battles over the perimeter, can hear it. 

It’s a song that, although the notion is cliche, feels like home. It has managed to encapsulate the feeling that persists, from all ten years of Hermitcraft, of family and friends and feeling like belonging.

[jellieland]

Cub is starting to feel like he isn’t a very popular person at the moment.

It’s odd. People give him wary looks, and step back when he steps closer, and politely end conversations with him. But everyone seems very hesitant to actually say anything about whatever it is that’s bothering them so much.

It's true that it is, on occasion, a little difficult to concentrate on what people are saying. His hearing has been a lot sharper recently, especially with the extensions of himself that he’s placed around the server to help spread the skulk. But unfortunately, given how widespread they are now, it has become quite difficult to concentrate on any specific sounds – even, on occasion, those being made right in front of him.

Still, even without any specifics, he’s been starting to get the feeling that he isn’t exactly… welcome, here.

He’d seen False, the other day, in Hermitopia. As far as he can tell, she’s appointed herself as protector of the hermits. He doesn’t think she’s consulted anyone else about this.

Not that he needs any protecting, obviously. Why would he? He can take care of himself.

But that… look that she’d given him. He’d almost turned around, at first, as though she might be looking at someone behind him.

There was no need for that, though. If there was someone behind him, he’d have heard them.

False, though. Back to False.

He’d never seen her look at him like that before. Not even in the worst moments of the Convex.

It was a calculating look. As though every moment, she was considering the best way to strike, and weighing it against the danger of overextending herself. The kind of look you might give an unnervingly powerful mob, perhaps. But one he'd never seen her give to Doc, or to Cleo. The kind of look you give to something other.

“Hey, False!” He called, and smiled.

Her eyes narrowed. “Hey Cub.” Her voice was controlled and level. “What’s up?”

“Oh not much, not much. Just the usual – spread the souls, spread the skulk, you know how it is.” He held out a few skulk catalysts. “Care to join me?”

“I… No. No, I’ve got- other plans, sorry.” She took a step back, but kept her eyes fixed on him. “Why don’t you… go do that, then.”

He shrugged. “Sure. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.” It was harsh. Sharp. After a moment, she seemed to realise this. “I mean- fine. I’ll let you know.” It was less a peace offering to a friend than it was a deliberate concession to an enemy. He knows how to tell the difference.

“Good, good. That’s good to know.” Just because she’d decided she didn’t like him anymore for some reason, didn’t mean he had to follow suit.

She watched him from a distance, eyes like ice, until he left.

She watched him like a tightly wound spring, like a coiled snake.

But she did not strike.

So, yeah. That has been a little odd.

He thinks that if it weren’t for his newfound lease on life recently, that incident would have rattled him. So it’s a good job he doesn’t have to worry about that.

It still seemed worth investigating, though, if it made people less willing to embrace the skulk as they should.

So then, there was the incident with Xisuma.

This one, he thinks, was the most confusing of the lot.

There were some more looks – some from Jevin, Oli and Sausage as well – when they fought the withers together.

He was fairly confident that Xisuma wasn’t the biggest fan of the skulk. At least – he had been fairly confident.

But it wasn’t Cub who suggested trying to spread the skulk further in the End with a sweeping edge sword and some endermen.

And even after that, he’s pretty sure Xisuma’s been removing a fair amount of the skulk around Hermitopia.

There had been Impulse, too, unnerved and wary, asking Cub to dispose of parts of himself safely, rather than taking them and doing it himself.

And with all this came a growing… not discomfort. Why would he be uncomfortable? More a curiosity. How, after all, was he supposed to change their minds if he didn’t know their minds?

Joe- Joe was his friend, he had thought. Joe would get it.

And then he did.

It felt a little like missing a step, although to be fair that wasn’t necessarily uncommon in interactions with Joe.

He hinted, and Joe nodded and went along with it and was appropriately impressed.

Later, he was sold back the parts of himself that Joe had unearthed, both of them quite clear about where they had come from, and told that he could do whatever he liked with them as long as they didn’t end up back in Pix’s area.

He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Joe did tend to enjoy seeing where the chaos went. Why would he even want to intervene?

But then there are still sometimes those looks. When Cub is adding more skulk catalysts around Hermitopia, and Joe is quickly ducking in and out of the place because it’s not one hundred percent clear whether he's still an enemy of the state at this point or not.

When they’re doing that.

Sometimes Joe looks at him like he wouldn’t mind it if none of the Hermits told Cub when they left.

Sometimes, when he forgets himself a little, Cub wonders whether any of them would, anymore.

It seems like a double standard. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, he’s sure. He hasn’t found it yet, though.

Why, if he didn’t have the skulk to keep him company, he might even be feeling a little hurt lonely irritated.

It takes Xisuma replacing the entire floor of the tower for him to start to understand.

They say they hate it. Oh they say they hate it. Not out loud to him, most of the time, but they do. But they never get the roots.

They clear it away, and they leave the surface clean and new, or they leave it unrecognizably maimed by the scars they made themselves. Some of them even dig up the catalysts. But none of them get the roots, because Cub is still here, and so it will always come back.

None of them have even tried.

So that can’t hate it that much, can they?

They just don’t want it near them.

Well, he thinks.

Too bad.

He’s not very good at giving up.

[syn4k]

Bestie. Beetle. Do I even need the screenshot?

"Well," said Joe, lounging casually sideways on a chair, lime-green phone in hand, "this sure is a close race."

"For someone who's about to get his ass kicked, you seem awfully chill," said Quackity suspiciously, sitting on a barstool in the kitchen, looking over his shoulder.

Joe sighed. "You know, your preoccupation with violence is really starting to worry me. Now take that with a grain of salt, since I know a lot of violent people, but I don't know you very well. I have a good therapist, if you want her number."

"Señor, you think therapy can fix me?" scoffed Quackity, taking a sip of whiskey from a bottle nearby. "It'd have to be a damn good therapist. There's no way I'm paying for that."

"The U.S healthcare system is exorbitantly expensive," conceded Joe with a shrug. "That's entirely fair of you."

"We're supposed to like, be mean to each other," said Quackity, turning around on the chair fully this time and leaning against the bar, arms crossed.

"Nobody told me that," said Joe, idly scrolling.

"Well I mean yeah, but also, it's a competition," said Quackity. "I threw punches with that Grian guy. He fought like the fucking devil, man. Did you bring like, a gun or whatever?"

"Nope," said Joe.

"Do you even want to fight me?"

"I'm a pacifist."

"Then why the hell did you even bother at all?" asked Quackity, losing his patience. "Like come on."

"It's just for fun," said Joe, looking up. "Now, my friend Cleo is currently busy with someone else, but if you want me to schedule something with her-"

"Hell no. I've heard about Cleo. I'm not doing that."

"Okay, I'm getting mixed signals," said Joe. "You're the one who said you wanted to fight. Do you want to or do you not?"

"I said I wanted to fight, not get my ass kicked! There's a difference!"

"I'll give you her number," said Joe, scribbling on a piece of paper with a lime green pencil.

"The therapist, or Cleo's? Either way, I don't want it."

"They're the same person."

"What the fuck, dude."

[panpiepid]

Thoughts on the hermitcraft harem man? ( Aka Joel "smallishbeans" shadow)

He's cool and makes cool things! I love his build style and his creativity! Look at his hardcore world! Look at his X life base! Look at Empires! Look at his Hermitcraft base! I love what and how he builds. He's even built things for Tom Scott before, that was cool.

I don't like watching his videos though. His entire YouTube personality at the moment is "annoying side character", which is a problem when you want to bring someone to an artists collective like hermitcraft where barely anyone knows him. So who could he be a side character to this season? Not Grian, that would be too cliché. He's also already done that in the life series. Etho it is! (This is not saying that I don't enjoy the obsession bit this season I'm enjoying it very much.) A reason I call him annoying is that his youtube personality is self-centred and actively seeks to mock others. I'm sure we all appreciated him booing at False for winning demise. Of course this is probably fine with the hermits themselves, I just got disgruntled at that.

I'm gonna assume that this ask was prompted by my tags I left on that Joel post tho. My main frustration with his joining hermitcraft is his audience. Having been the side character to Grian for the life series and with Grian having a far larger audience than he did at the time, him joining hermitcraft while still being categorised as "Grian's Friend Who Should Be On Hermitcraft" just made the server audience more Grian-centric than it really had to be. Which sucks for people like me who mainly watches Joe Hills, Cleo, Tango and Pearl and scroll the hermitcraft tag trying to find posts that aren't about Grian, Scar and now Joel.

TLDR: I love his stuff except for his videos. I didn't really want him to join HC but here we are.

[hmshermitcraft]

When the Life Games end, some hermits that died can suffer with coming back to living after being dead for a prolonged period of time; some getting so severe that physical effects start to show (lack of/no response to injury; sometimes not even realising they've been hurt, tired/drained appearance, vacant gaze)

Cleo, someone who's been through that when she came back, helps with coping when the effects become too intense to get over without therapy

~🪶

She's written a guide for it at this point (well, Joe wrote most of it. She didn't ask him to, he just took over once he found out what she was doing.) But she finds it still helps to look after them herself. Something about physical contact, being with another person, it helps. She assumes it's grounding. She knows she needed a lot of that, when she came back.

And looking after their hermits, and the others from those servers, is never a chore for them. It's nice their experience can help, for once.

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 7: season 9 or from beyond

Q: HOW LONG WAS SHE MISSING?

A: That's, uh, quite the thing to start this out on, Joe, I mean. When you said you wanted to interview me for an article about my role at Blue River Raceway, I didn't think you'd... Who do you mean?

Q: YOU'RE DODGING THE QUESTION.

A: And you're starting off a bit too strong. Seriously, I might think you're lying.

Q: I MEAN, I LIED A LITTLE. I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D ANSWER QUESTIONS IF I DIDN'T.

A: I can leave.

Q: I MADE FRIENDS WAY BACK WHEN WE WENT TO EMPIRES. WITH SOMEONE WHO WASN'T OLLIE.

A: I don't have to answer this.

Q: HOW LONG WAS SHE MISSING?

A: I don't know who you're talking about.

Q: I THINK YOU DO.

A: I think if I knew, she was dangerous. She knew how to modify memories. She wasn't safe to be friends with, Joe. You should--you should get that checked out. I mean, think about what a me who didn't care for you might do, and then, like, go to a doctor about it.

Q: SO YOU KNOW WHO I'M TALKING ABOUT.

A: I'm... not supposed to. I think she tried to make me forget she was ever there.

Q: HOW LONG WAS SHE MISSING?

A: Look, time is weird. It was after I built my base. Before the Rift. Only slightly before then, though, because time isn't the same on both sides. If I'd known that, I would have been more careful. Sent her better supplies, too. Brought my own memory potions. I wouldn't have just... followed you all blindly. Not that I did.

Q: YOU KNEW SHE WAS GONE?

A: Of course I did. I had to be prepared.

Q: PREPARED FOR WHAT?

A: Joe, she's dangerous. You have to know she's dangerous. I did what had to be done, after she got dangerous, and I did what had to be done, after she escaped. I was prepared. I knew what would happen if she found you all.

Q: YOU WERE GOING TO KILL HER.

A: Well, when you put it like that...

Q: SHE WAS NICE TO ME. YOU HUNTED ME OUT OF HERMITOPIA--

A: Hey, don't characterize it like that, you know as well as I do how much that was a game--

Q: LET ME FINISH THE QUESTION. SHE GAVE ME A HOME. SHE WAS NICE. WHY DO YOU SAY SHE'S DANGEROUS?

A: Joe, how much of your time in Cogsmede do you remember?

Q: I'M THE INTERVIEWER.

A: And I'm trying to tell you. How much do you remember? Did she show you everything? Did she tell you why she wanted you there?

Q: STOP THAT.

A: Because I know she liked to hunt people. That's part of why I locked her up in the first place. Tried to figure out what had gone wrong with her. You kept asking how long she was missing, and I, I tried to keep you all safe. You have to understand I had to do it. And--how much do you remember?

Q: I MEAN, I KNOW ABOUT THE HEADS.

A: Joe.

Q: MY BEST FRIEND'S CLEO, I REALLY CAN'T JUDGE ABOUT THE HEADS.

A: You have to know she's dangerous then. And she just let you remember?

Q: NO SHE DIDN'T. I'M JUST BAD AT FORGETTING THINGS I'M SUPPOSED TO. I HAVE A SURPRISINGLY ROBUST MEMORY! I JUST--DO YOU THINK SHE'S OKAY?

A: It's not that simple.

Q: DO YOU CARE?

A: It's not that simple. But yes. Of course I care. Of course I... Of course I do. I couldn't not.

Q: HOW LONG WAS SHE MISSING?

A: Since slightly after the Rift closed. I sent her a letter. I haven't heard back.

Q: TELL ME IF YOU DO.

A: Fine. I will.

Q: I CAN ACTUALLY ASK YOU ABOUT THE RACE TRACK NOW IF YOU'D LIKE.

A: I mean, I built the sign. What else is there to say, in the face of all that?

[sleepy0s]

I felt like writing!

It had seemed fine. The meeting was going great, nearly everyone had shown up except for boatem but that was fine, someone would probably catch them up later.

Ping

“Who left their communicator on?” Xisuma looked up, trying to figure out who had forgotten, “Guys? Who’s got their communicator on?” Weirdly no one responded, the only indication someone did have there communicator on was the soft glow at the back of the room and multiple hermits beginning to open there’s.

“Suma you might wanna check the chat.” Keralis’ spoke from the other side of the table

**Hermits chat.

ImpulseSV: helsp

ImpulseSV: help

GeminiTay: What’s wrong?

RenTheDog: We’re at meeting dudes, what’s up?

GoodTimeWithScar: somebtinfs wrong with grian

Pearlescentmoon: please help, he’s gone feral.**

Xisuma read the chat, confused as to what Pearl meant

**Hermits chat

XisumaVoid: Pearl wdym?

MumboJumbo was Slain by Grian

Pearlescentmoon: I meant that. I don’t think he’s recognizing us.

XisumaVoid: okay, stay out of his view, we will be there soon. **

The hermits filed out of the room, launching there elytra to try and get to Boatem quicker.

~~~

They arrived at the outskirts of Boatem immediately spotting Pearl, scar, Impulse and Mumbo hiding on a roof.

Xisuma tried to get their attention without pinging any comms by throwing rocks, however it didn’t work so he resorted to private messaging Pearl.

**w/ Pearlescentmoon

XisumaVoid: We’re here.**

He watched as Pearl checked her comm then looked around before eventually finding them. She tapped on the other’s shoulders directing them in the direction of the hermits, slowly they climbed of the roof being careful not to make too much noise.

“You have no idea how glad we are your here” Impulse whispered as he landed on the ground, the other three silently agreeing.

“Can you explain what happened?” Xisuma tried speak softly but his mask let out a slight buzzing noise.

“Yes, yes. Well you already knew we weren’t going to be at the meeting so we thought it would be best to have a meeting of our own.. down in the Boatem hole. I’m not really sure what happened but we looked away for a second and grian went mad.”

“What do you mean mad impulse? What’s he doing?” It was a question that was quickly answered as Joe stepped into a particularly bad lag chunk and fell over, making a loud noise when he landed.

“Joe, are you oka-?” Cleo was cut off as a red blur flew past, grabbing Joe with him. Grians grip was like steel, digging into Joes arms and spinning him around before using Joe as a shield for when they hit the wall. “Urge..” Joe looked mostly unscathed except for a few scratches, fortunately they now knew where grian was. Unfortunately he was screeching and puffing his wings out trying to seem bigger, said wings were weirdly tinged purple- Xisuma would need to ask about that.

“Yeah.. that’s what we mean.” Pearl looked towards grian who was circling joe, trying to figure out if he was a threat or not. “He seems to be attacking anything that upsets him.”

[monosminecraftmania]

Color!au [hermitcraft fantasy au]

i got one note thats all i need.

here's everyone by kingdom

Varie - Wels, Etho, Beef, Xisuma, TFC

Claret - Ren, Martyn, Grian, Mumbo

Ochre - Scar, Gem, Tango, Fwip

Flax - Impulse, Bdubs, Hypno, Jimmy

Viridian Uaine - Iskall, Cleo, Joe, Doc, Joel

Azure - Pearl, Xb, Jevin, Scott

Cerule - Skizz, Keralis, BigB

Mauve - Zed, Cub, Sausage

Amara - Stress, False, Jono, Lizzie

i have. many thoughts. all the thoughts all at once.

if we get two notes i'll talk some more about this au. maybe even do a full roster where i explain where everyone is and what they do.

send an ask for someone to be done in larger scale and in color

i get to them eventually i promise-

[the-joju-experience]

Scar inhaled, relaxing his shoulders for a second. He then steeled himself and began the trek to Doc’s base. When he got there, he found the mad scientist eating a bucket of popcorn.

“Hiya, Doc!” Scar said. “I’m glad you’re enduring the merchandise.”

“It’s a consolation prize,” Doc said. “Do you know how loud your park is?”

“It’s all part of the charm,” Scar said.

“You say charm, I say noise,” Doc said. “Is this about the polls?”

“Oh, yeah,” Scar said. “I just wanted to make sure there are no hard feelings and no creepers, none of that really. Especially about the bracket.”

“Do I scare you?” Doc asked playfully.

“No, no!” Scar said. “You just create a sense of foreboding.”

“Thank you,” Doc said. “I try very hard.”

“I guess it’s not easy being green, huh?” Scar asked.

Doc stared blankly.

“Gotcha!” Scar said. He shot off into the air, flying away before Doc could shoot him with an arrow.

—

Etho loitered by rock outside Mumbo’s vault, watching the slimes hop around aimlessly.

“How did all these get here?” Etho asked to no one in particular. “I thought the slime farm didn’t work.”

He walked towards the opened vault door and peered inside. As he descended, he heard the low growls of the zombies that had colonized the building. Etho groaned in annoyance, pulling out some torches to light up the staircase.

“This is what happens when you don’t upload regularly, Mumbo,” Etho said. He reached the bottom, where Slimecicle had left a trail of carnage. In the center of the room the challenger had left a mess of signs, many of which could not be safely read in a video (except maybe by Cleo).

“Now, what are we supposed to do?” Etho asked.

“It’s quite simple, really.”

—

Wilbur heard his door rattling again.

“Joe, I told you already! I don’t want a shulker full of blue dye!” The door kept rattling. “Fine,” Wilbur said. He opened the door reluctantly, but was thrown to the side when the door fell off its hinges and BDubs sprinted in. The mossy man scrambled around, hastily replacing the door.

“You’ve gotta help me!” BDubs shouted.

“What’s going on?” Wilbur asked.

“It’s Cleo! She’s crazy!” BDubs said.

“I’m sorry, you’re on the run from ZombieCleo?” Wilbur asked.

“Yeah! It’s the Sexyman bracket! She’s out to get me!” BDubs said.

“I’m pretty sure they know it’s a joke,” Wilbur said. “I mean, no one’s taking it that seriously.”

“You’ve never had to deal with Cleo when they have a reason to get you,” BDubs said. “I’m not safe anywhere, man.”

“So why would you come here? I don’t want to be involved in this!” Wilbur protested.

“I can’t go anywhere Cleo can find me! Please!” BDubs begged.

Wilbur heard another knock on the door.

“Oi, Wilbur Soot?” They both heard Cleo say. “I hear you’ve got a friend of mine. I’ve got to tell him something.”

—

Joe swept the sand out of his eyes as he approached the city. Checking his map again, he confirmed that he was headed towards the right place, and then he continued to the central plaza.

When he got there, Quackity was sharpening a sword.

“Howdy, Quackity!” Joe said. “It’s great to meet you. Your fans were pretty generous last round.”

“They’ve learned their lessons well. Everything’s a business deal,” Quackity said. “Even this.”

“Well, I don’t really agree with that,” Joe said. “I mean, it’s great if everyone involved can financially benefit from something, but sometimes you just have to do it for the art of the thing, and I think that’s a personal choice you should be able to make.”

“That is where you’re wrong, Joe Hills,” Quackity said. “You will taste my blade like so many of my enemies have before.”

“I usually bake my enemies cookies and then they stop being my enemies, but I guess that works too,” Joe said.

“The last time someone gave me a cookie it was after they asked me to kill a man,” Quackity said.

“Do you want to change that? I happen to have some on me,” Joe said.

The next thing Quackity knew, he and Joe were enjoying some of Scar’s Elven Cookies.

“…and the next thing I knew, there was a giant moon crashing into my house!” Joe finished.

Quackity laughed.

[salemoleander]

This was inspired ages ago by a post from @briseise about rebel leader Impulse gifting Bdubs a clock, and rather than edit it for the 15th time I'm just going to post it + beg forgiveness on the rougher bits.

(This also spawned fics from Ren and Scar's perspective, which I'll be adding to this post bc they're concurrent.)

‐-----------------------------------------------------

Ren lounges at the head of the Square Table, having just read the Perimeter Empire’s Declaration of Independence aloud. His laughter booms, and he thumbs through the booklet as one clawed foot taps a nervous tempo under the table.

“Well, my noble dudes, it looks like the goatman has finally made his move.”

To Ren's right, Bdubs shifts in his seat. He has nodded emphatically and smiled along with every rambling word the king has said throughout the meeting. 

He has absolutely not heard a word of it. 

Under the table and inside a mossy pocket and clutched in his hand, so very safe and hidden, is a clock. 

Earlier, Bdubs had walked into his quarters in the Crastle, and discovered a present boxed up and sitting on his bedside table. A small shulker box, dyed a beautiful mossy green and tied shut with golden wire. There hadn’t been a note, but a scrawled signature on the top of the box left no doubt that it was from Impulse.

When he’d opened it at first Bdubs had been… surprised? Not disappointed, not disappointed! That wouldn’t make sense at all, when his not-disappointment was that this clock was too beautiful, too delicate. It wouldn’t survive- 

He’s not sure what it wouldn’t survive. (He knows exactly what it wouldn’t survive.)

Its gold shines and it ticks perfectly, and he feels terrible keeping it hidden from light in his cloak. He holds it like a fragile creature in his palm, mechanical pulse keeping time with his own. 

A lull in the conversation draws his attention momentarily away from the barely-there feeling of each second ticking. Still, Bdubs doesn’t look up until someone kicks him under the table.

“Hey!” Bdubs yells, indignant. 

He looks up, and his outburst is immediately doused as he realizes that almost everyone was already looking at him. Ah, a helpful kick, then. 

Bdubs quickly appraises the table: Ren stares at him with an eyebrow raised. Cleo’s mouth is twitching in amusement, while Joe takes notes and draws geometric designs on his arm in the gaps of his lime green gloves. Scar, seated as far from the King as the table allows, is checking his communicator. (Bdubs tries not to be smug about that, then tries to decide which direction of that situation to even be smug about, and fails at both.) Iskall and Cub seem to be running a heavily modified version of Tic-Tac-Toe on a scrap of paper hidden from the King’s sight by the massive dragons-head hat. 

Circling back to Cleo, Bdubs assumes that’s where the helpful kick came from. Probably. (Scar has long legs, and Bdubs is never sure when he’s really distracted, or pretend-distracted. And Cleo and Joe are both prone to dubiously helpful shin kicking.)

Skin prickling at all the direct attention, Bdubs sighs loudly and sweeps one hand up in a half-hearted gesture of surrender. “Alright, you caught ol’ Bdubs sleeping with my eyes open! So what! I’ve been up late working on- on Royal builds, and quests, and I’ve been missing my Zs.”

Cub and Scar laugh, and Cleo smiles, and he relaxes his grip slightly on the clock.

He turns to his left, waggling his eyebrows at the King. Normally the flattery came quick and easy, but that was because it was real. Sure, he likes to play up his obsequiousness, earn some laughs, but at the end of the day he’s loyal. He’s loyal, except that loyal hands of the king don’t hide gifts from their number one enemy under the table. 

He sucks a breath between his teeth and tries to mimic his usual enthusiasm. 

“Your Majesty, o illustrious King Ren… What was the question?” And Bdubs thinks he’s done a pretty good job, until-

“I asked, actually,” Cleo says from their spot across the table. She’s toying with half of a broken arrow, spinning and idly twirling it between her green-tinged fingers. Bdubs has a sense of vertigo watching her do this, adoration and fear welling up in concert with each turn of the arrow. He feels like he’s falling, breath coming shorter as some internal process hits an unexpected barrier and goes flying in a new direction.

Cleo is terrifying. She’s immediately the most important person in the room. 

“Ah, of course, classic Bdubs mistake. What do you need?” He pauses for a moment, can’t resist tacking on- “Anything.” His heart sings, blood eager and ready to fall. Anything for the Crastle. 

“Careful, Bdubs, wouldn’t want to seem overeager.” Her voice holds a note of warning, honesty cleverly wrapped in mocking. Cleo was a master of saying exactly what they meant, but using such a sardonic tone about it that everyone assumed they were joking.

Bdubs nods, frantic, but it must come off as comedic because Cub chuckles. He knows it doesn't fool Cleo, though.

Cleo’s eyes stay on him, one eyebrow imperiously raised and one chilly ankle knocking against his in reassurance, well-hidden under the table. That ankle stays throughout her request, and his response, and a good half the meeting after that.

He doesn’t know when he stopped, but Bdubs isn’t holding the clock anymore. It’s still there, tucked into a pocket, but the idea of holding it right now makes him nauseous. 

[arthropod-concoctions]

(AO3 - prev)

Martyn swiped his finger across a page of the enchanted book, sketching a pose, and watching as the armor stand in front of him mimicked it. He took his finger off the paper with a flourish, and the stand froze, staying in position. It wasn't a particularly impressive pose, but Martyn smiled proudly anyways.

“This thing is awesome,” he said to Joe, who had flown in to drop yet another shulker box full of various types of stone at Cleo's doorstep. Ze said that they would know what to do with it; somehow, Martyn doubted that. “You wouldn't happen to know how to replicate it, would you?”

“Oh, that's easy, just take a book and title it `Statues',” Joe replied. Around zir head floated a rainbow of small multicoloured eyes that stared directly at Martyn.

“Right,” Martyn said, looking back at the eyes. That sounded like far too easy a process to be possible on just any server. He tried not to be too disappointed; he wouldn't have had any time for making statues in the Life games anyways, and, well, where else was he gonna do it?

“And another thing... do you know if Cleo has a change of clothes stashed anywhere?”

Joe hesitated for a moment. “...In their cross-server inventory, probably?”

“Sure, but I'd feel weird just digging through that. And I had a look around this block of skyscrapers here, but I couldn't find a wardrobe or anything.”

“Oh, fair enough. Well, I don't know about Cleo, but you can borrow some of my clothes if you want?”

“Sure. Do you have anything in green?”

Joe smiled and looked at Martyn through zir green glasses, and Martyn looked at zir green fingerless gloves and green hairtie and felt a bit silly for asking. “Oh, I've got a few things. I'll be right back!”

---

Half an hour later, Martyn was standing next to a shulker box overflowing with clothes, dressed in... not the most ostentations outfit he'd ever worn, considering a certain December MCC, but it was probably in the top ten. Cleo was a bit taller than Joe, so most of the clothes left the belly exposed, but Martyn had managed to find a chroma green pinstripe suit that fit well enough. He stepped out of the room in Cleo's base he'd used to dress up, and made eye contact with Joe, whose face lit up.

“Found something you like?” ze said.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Martyn replied, laughing. “I feel like I'm ready to play for the Lime Llamas with this fit.”

“I don't watch sports, but yeah, I think you look great!”

The two of them walked out into Cleo's courtyard, where someone was waiting for them; someone who appeared to be a blue slime in a hoodie and jogging pants.

The slime looked at Martyn and stifled a laugh. “Wow, looks like I chose the right day to go check on Cleo's replacement,” they said, then held out a slimy hand- more like a stump, really, Martyn couldn't make out separate fingers. “I'm Jevin. Nice to meet you.”

“Martyn,” Martyn responded. He tried to shake Jevin's 'hand', but only ended up slapping against it before Jevin withdrew it. It had the consistency of a water balloon. “You're a friend of Cleo's?”

“Uh- yeah, a friend. Totally. Mhm, we're best friends,” Jevin replied, nodding. “That's why I'm here. Friendly reasons.”

“Right. Friendly reasons. Definitely not `collecting blackmail material for Cleo' reasons.”

“Exactly! See, you get it,” Jevin said cheerfully. Martyn looked at Joe, who shrugged. Zir rainbow eyes shot a few glances at Jevin occasionally, but most remained trained on him. Suddenly, Joe gasped.

“Wait, I haven't even shown you the best feature of this outfit yet!” ze said, then began rummaging through zir inventory. Eventually ze pulled out a strange flashlight of sorts. “Check this out!”

Ze shone the light on Martyn; he looked down to realise his body had vanished. From the neck down, all of his body which was covered by green fabric was completely invisible.

Martyn laughed deviously. “Oh, that's fantastic. Say, can I borrow that light for a bit?”

“Sure,” Joe said, handing Martyn the flashlight. “As long as you bring it back by the end of the day.”

“Yeah, I can do that, no problem,” Martyn replied, then went back into his little changing room. After some rummaging, he found a piece of fabric big enough to cover his head, protesting snakes included; then, he pulled out his chat and began typing a message.

<ZombieCleo> Tim, where you at?

<Tango> the shopping district

<Tango> zedaph's giving me a tour

<ZombieCleo>coords?

Taking the makeshift mask with him, he went outside to meet Joe and Jevin again. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a rancher to prank.”

He shot a glare at Jevin, who appeared to be taking a picture of him, then took off flying with Cleo's elytra.

Despite receiving precise coordinates from Jimmy, Martyn had quite some trouble locating him and his new friend in the shopping district. Partly because the district in question was a headache-inducing mess to fly over, and partly because all of Tango's distinctive physical features were now blue for some reason.

He gently glid down to the ground, careful not to make any noise, and landed behind Jimmy and a blond Hermit who he guessed must be Zedaph. He'd been shining Joe's flashlight onto himself, rendering him entirely invisible except for his hand. He trailed behind the two of them, slowly closing the gap. Eventually he could hear what Zedaph was saying:

“And this is the hole where... Actually, I have no idea what this hole is for. It wasn't here last time I went shopping. There's hoppers at the bottom... d'you reckon we should throw something in, see what happens?”

“You know, Zed, this tour isn't very good,” Jimmy said. His accent was unmistakeable, even in Tango's voice, which didn't seem to have changed with his colouration.

Martyn was right behind them at this point, so he spoke up: “Yeah. Zero stars.”

Jimmy yelled out and whirled around, flailing his arms about in a panic. His arm collided with Zedaph's, and expelled some kind of red flash; then, Zedaph yelped too.

Martyn began laughing, pulling the cloth off of his face and pointing the flashlight down. “Oh, that was beautiful,” he said between laughs.

“Wh- Cleo- Martyn- how did you- what are you wearing?” Jimmy sputtered.

“More importantly, what were you thinking?” Zedaph added, rubbing his arm where he'd collided with Jimmy. “Do you know how annoying redstone burns are to heal?”

“Sorry, Zed,” Martyn said. “Didn't mean for you to become collateral. Hi. I'm Martyn, by the way.” Martyn extended his hand to Zedaph, who crossed his own arms, pointedly not shaking his.

“Wait-- sorry, Zed, by the way-- what do you mean 'redstone burn'?” Jimmy said.

“Well, you know, with Tango's redstonyness... he never zapped you on accident?”

Jimmy shook his head. Martyn piped up: “Wait, are you saying Tango just has redstone tasers hidden up his sleeves at all times?”

“No- he- because he's a redstone sprite, guys come on!” Zedaph exclaimed, clearly expecting Martyn and Jimmy to know this.

“I didn't know that,” Jimmy replied immediately.

Zedaph looked at Jimmy, looking very offended on Tango's behalf. “Seriously? You were married to him, and you didn't even-”

“We were not married!” Jimmy interrupted him. “We were soulmates, not-”

“About the same thing, isn't it? Still, not a very good soulmate if you didn't even know what species he is.”

“I thought he was just a regular guy!”

“He has red eyes!” Zedaph and Martyn said in unison.

“Not anymore though, they're blue now,” Martyn added. “Zed, what's up with that anyways? Why does Hermitcraft get the blue raspberry flavoured Tango?”

“Because of...” Zedaph trailed off, then sighed, and pinched his nose. “You know, I figured because you were his husband- soulmate, whatever-” he waved a hand at Jimmy, who's opened his mouth to protest- “I could skip the `introduction to Tango' part of this tour. But I guess not! Follow me, let's turn this tour around.”