Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Zedaph sends a DM to the knight, Wels grabs his sword and zips out of his castle-like base in a second.

<Zedaph whispers to you> Emergency!!!

<Zedaph whispers to you> Meet at the top of my Hole of Fame!!!

Normally, if he’d seen that in the general chat for all Hermits, he wouldn’t worry too much. Others would get there before him, considering how many of them fly around anyway, and so far the server’s been fairly peaceful. Wars, resistances, pranks, challenges, and typical Hermit shenanigans aside.

But this is a message for Wels. So unless his friend’s planning a prank or it’s an experiment or something, which the knight honestly wouldn’t put past the sheep, he’s armed and ready to fight. Not that he thinks that’s the only kind of emergency to be called for, but what else would he need a knight for?

“Zedaph?” Wels shouts. He peers over the edge of the so-called Hole of Fame. There’s a couple of bouncing animals on leads around the center of it, in a smaller hole within the outer hole. He’s seen some strange builds, but this is taking the lead.

“Admiring my hole, are you?”

Wels turns and swings his sword in one motion, chopping off a tiny strand of Zedaph’s hair. He would’ve liked a warning! “You scared me!”

Now that he’s looking at his friend, Zedaph seems okay. As okay as an overly creative overachiever can be. No bruises, no burns, no scratches, no bites, no rotting flesh, no missing limbs, no anything that’d seem out of place.

So what in the world is his emergency?

Zedaph either doesn’t take his face of confused concern into account or he doesn’t even notice it. He grabs Wels’ arm, having the knight sheathe his weapon, and listens for a few clicks of his mechanical wings before flying both of them into the hole.

Wels would’ve had his own wings if he understood how to use them. He prefers the good ol’ on-foot way of traveling, other than riding around on horses. It’s what he’s been doing for as long as he’s been a knight, way before coming to Hermitcraft! He can’t just throw away tradition, can he?

He realizes they’ve landed quite a while ago. Zedaph’s dragging him along a hallway where a couple of trophies are, all clearly named by whatever advancements his friend managed to get. So, logically, he thinks that’s what Zedaph needs him for.

“You need me for one of your.. Zedvancements, huh?” Wels asks, confident that’s his purpose here. He doesn’t really know Zedaph’s whole thing about getting many - or all? - advancements as possible, but he understands that’s just how the sheep’s funky brain works. “What can I do for you?”

“Not- Not a Zedvancement, no.” Well then. Wels lets him continue with a small nod. He’s impressed by the trophies he’s glancing at around them. “It’s about Impulse and Tango.”

Wels brings his sword out again. As his ruler always said, all problems can be slain by the mightiest of knights! Then again, his ruler’s known for their harsh ( but traditional ) ways of starting wars and breaking peace treaties.

Zedaph pats his arm, trying to get him to lower the sword until the tip touches the ground. He meets his eyes and shakes his head. “They’re not in any danger, I promise you. But I am!”

“I already looked you over,” is all the knight can reply with, hesitantly tucking his sword away. “Is it stress, exhaustion? Did a potion hit you, or did you drink suspicious stew?”

“It’s-” Zedaph stares at him before jabbing at his own chest. “It’s an inside danger, Wels.”

“An insider?” Does that mean someone on their server is trying to wreak havoc? His mind instantly goes to Grian, then to Evil Xisuma. He knows they are on entirely different lines of chaos, but still. Wels glances around, despite knowing there’s no one to swoop in and overhear them, and whispers, “Are they planning an attack? Are Tango and Impulse spies?”

“What?” Why is he surprised? He’s the one who’s going on about some inside danger! “No, no, not even close! I meant that it’s a problem inside me, not a spy or anything!”

That just sounds more concerning. Zedaph already shot down it being a poisonous or strange thing he consumed, though maybe he’s lying? For a rather out-of-his-mind guy, Wels never really thought of him to be a liar. He’s usually upfront about most things outside of instances where little fibs help with his work.

Wels feels disappointed in himself for not being able to figure it out. No matter how hard the cogs in his brain turn, he hasn’t got a clue! “You’re going to have to explain it to me better. I don’t know how else you mean it.”

“I’m in love with Impulse and Tango, Wels.”

And just like that, the cogs in his brain come to a halt. He knows the guy’s straightforward with his thoughts and feelings about 24/7, but to hear something like that? Almost feels surreal if he thinks about it. He’s also asking the wrong Hermit for love advice.

“O-Oh,” is all he can mutter. He hopes for the cogs to start turning again, which they do and he’s thankful, but how is he meant to help here? Nonhuman love isn’t his specialty, especially between three different nonhumans! “I’m.. still confused? I think? What do you need me for?”

“Do you have any advice on how to tell them?”

Fantastic. The question I expected yet am not at all prepared for!

“Just.. tell them?” Work harder and stronger, brain! Your friend comes to you for non-violent help, so the least you can do is at least give him something! Wels shakes his head, closing his eyes and trying to remember if he knows anything about romance in general.

He’s lucky when Zedaph starts talking again, not letting silence fall between them while Wels is thinking. “It is not that easy! I’ve said I love them for months since I found out, man! But they either laugh or think I mean it in the platonic sense - which I do, I do love them platonically, but also romantically! It’s so difficult!”

Eyes opened, Wels thinks he’s come up with something. He doesn’t know how well this will fare in a more modern era, but it’s something, isn’t it? It’s the most he can offer. “Have you thought of writing your confession in a letter to them?”

His lips press into a firm line, and he already feels himself start to sweat. Not from his armor, no, but he’s nervous. Nervous when Zedaph stares at him with wide eyes, as if he’s said something he shouldn’t. He’s just lucky it’s not his ruler, or else he’d probably see his tongue in a jar somewhere.

Though, he doesn’t put it past his friend to have body parts in a jar.

“You,” comes out of Zedaph’s mouth after a couple more seconds, and he’s placed his hands on Wels’ shoulders. It’s a bit awkward and he feels his knees bending, but Wels keeps his mouth shut. Then he catches a light in Zedaph’s eyes. “You are a genius, my friend!”

When Zedaph lets him go to do his happy little celebratory hop around in a circle, Wels fully turns around and releases his breath. He knows mistakes are made and are fine here with any of the Hermits. But handling something as delicate as love, romantic or otherwise, is not something he can just.. mess up!

“I’ll make sure I give them each a book with my confessions written in! I’ll even personally deliver them, so they know it’s from me!” Zedaph’s mostly talking to himself, whether or not he knows Wels is still present. At least he seems happy. “There’s no way this will fail!”

Wels opens his mouth to comment about how that’s probably not the best thing to say aloud, but shuts it up when Zedaph turns, grinning at him. It doesn’t help when his friend decides to run and squeeze him to near-death. How is he this strong?

He lets out a breath when Zedaph lets him go, watching the sheep gather two books and a quill from one of his endless chests in the center of the hole. “You are the absolute best, Wels! I should’ve tried this eons ago!”

“I’m..” Wels chuckles, scratching his neck. He really didn’t expect his advice to actually mean anything. But it makes someone happy, and that’s the best result that could’ve come from this. “Thank you, Zedaph. I wish you generous amounts of luck in your confessions.”

Zedaph turns and waves at him before facing his chest again, quickly writing away in one of the books.

Wels clears his throat to get his attention. “Um, mind flying me out of here? I don’t have wings, mechanical or otherwise.”

“Oh- Yeah! Of course!”

He makes it out of the hole with his friend’s help, and the two finally depart. Zedaph returns to the hole to keep working on his confessions to the two Hermits, and Wels heads off in a random direction to continue exploring.

Chapter Text

Keralis dips his head inside of iLuminate. He had a sign in his base saying to come meet Impulse here, so he goes on in, looking around for the half-Orc to magically appear. With the amount of times he’s been pranked by invisible Hermits, one can never be too sure!

But he trusts Impulse. Mostly.

“Psst!” Keralis swears he hears something. His eyes may be larger than the average pair, but they don’t exactly enhance his vision at all. He doesn’t see any sign of his friend anywhere! Until a rock is thrown at him, causing him to send a half-confused half-offended glare towards the stairs. That’s where Impulse is, gesturing for him to follow. “This way!” he half-whispers, half-yells.

What kind of friend would Keralis be if he didn’t follow?

When he’s up, his eyes hone in on the nice amount of beacons. Then he tries to keep his focus on Impulse, glancing at the book in his hand. “You’re sweating, sweetface. Do you have a fever?”

“What?” Impulse seals the entryway up the second floor with a block, keeping one set of stairs in his inventory to fix it later. He turns to Keralis and hands him the book. “No, I’m not sick. It’s this.”

“Is it a project?” Keralis asks, but Impulse gestures for him to read instead of asking more questions. So he does, opening to the first page.

'I don’t know how to tell you this, since I’ve been doing it for so long already, but I love you. I love you romantically.'

Keralis’ face lights up, looking at his friend who seems.. upset? He closes the book. “You have a secret admirer, Impulse. Why so sad about that?”

Impulse crosses his arms, looking at the floor. “Zed gave me that.”

While he may be oblivious to most things sometimes, even things he says and does himself, Keralis believes he knows exactly what that means. And he can’t wait to celebrate however this turns out as long as every one of his friends are happy.

“Awe!” is what he manages to say, realizing he stayed quiet for way too many seconds. Keralis brings his friend in for a much-needed hug, then he lets go and hands the book back to him. “So? How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?” Impulse repeats, and Keralis nods with a grin. “I feel whoever Zed’s covering for should just tell me upfront about their feelings. Writing in a book is just confusing. Imagine if I wasn’t at my base and Zed left it with someone else, and then the confessor finds out their feelings are returned by that someone else! And not me! It’d be chaotic, Keralis!”

Oh. Oh, oh no.

Keralis tries to speak, though he finds it hard to find what feels right to say. What if he misunderstood the book himself, and Zedaph is actually covering for someone? He shouldn’t have gotten so hopeful over something he doesn’t really know about. He can’t just guess someone’s feelings, especially not through paper.

He watches Impulse flick out his flint and steel, lighting a block and throwing the book into the flames. Whatever glint of hope was in the siren’s eyes are long-gone now as Keralis stands there, watching Impulse put out the flame so casually.

Keralis doesn’t trust his voice too much to not waver, but he tries anyway. “Do..” Should I even be saying anything? Impulse did invite me here to tell me this, so surely I’m allowed some input? He swallows his doubts. “Do you have any thoughts on who your secret admirer is?”

“I don’t know. There’s a lot of Hermits, and I know it’s not myself, so that leaves a good 24 people.” Impulse pauses, narrowing his eyes before going up and poking Keralis’ forehead. “It’s not you, is it?”

Keralis laughs. He's nervous and he feels like he should go for a deep swim with the dolphins right about now, but he forces himself to stay still. “Oh, nonono! I’m flattered you didn’t cross me off as your potential admirer, sweetface, but I don’t trust paper to relay how I feel.”

I can’t ask if he thinks it’s Zedaph. Or how he feels about him! That’s way too personal and might suggest it is Zedaph, even though there’s a chance it isn’t. And I can’t risk one person’s feelings to help someone else’s!

“Then there’s only 23 Hermits to go,” Impulse says matter-of-factly, like he has some plan to figure it out. “Actually, that just gave me an idea. Keralis, how do you feel about helping me figure this out?”

Keralis lets out a shaky breath that quickly bubbles into nervous chuckling. “Ohh. Sure? What do I do?”

He gulps when Impulse shoves a fresh book and quill into his hands. He looks too determined for his spirits to be broken now, so Keralis quietly accepts whatever he’s just been dragged into.

“We’re going to take notes on what everyone else thinks of me.” Before Keralis can ask, Impulse holds a finger up before he goes on. “I know, it might sound like a lot of work when I can just ask Zed who he’s doing this for, but he could easily not tell me. I’m more certain the other Hermits will be honest about how they think of me than if I ask Zed who the book’s from.”

By how confident Impulse looks to be, Keralis doesn’t have energy in him to argue. He’s not doing anything else at the moment, being on a temporary hiatus from building so he can explore and look at other Hermits’ builds and try out minigames.

Instead of arguing, Keralis thinks over his words before opening his mouth. “Why do you think Zedaph will lie?”

“Because people lie when they think they have a reason to,” is Impulse’s answer before he tears down the trapdoor, placing the stairs back in place and looking over his shoulder at Keralis. “If you don’t have stuff to do today, you wanna come help me interview some Hermits? This might be a two-day thing if we don’t find everyone today, or if either of us get tired before then.”

Keralis isn’t sure if he has anything to lose for doing this. As long as he doesn’t try to make Zedaph sound suspiciously like the book’s author or anything, then that’s fine, right? He just needs to be careful.

“Keralis?”

“Oh!” Keralis blinks a few times, realizing he might’ve spaced out. He looks around before following after Impulse downstairs, tucking the quill behind his ear and holding the book close to his chest. “Who are we talking with first? Or is it just any Hermit we can find?”

Impulse strides right out of iLuminate with Keralis tailing behind him. He sets up his mechanical wings, careful he doesn’t snap anything out of place when he puts them on over his shoulders and onto his back. Then he turns to Keralis. “Get your wings, dude. We’re gonna talk with Xisuma first.”

Hopefully this all ends up okay.

Keralis sucks in a breath and pops open his own wings, thanks to almost always wearing his elytra, and he shelves away the book ( and quill tucked in it ) into his inventory so he can wrap fireworks in a bag across his chest. It’s tight and comfortable, mostly so he doesn’t drop all of them whenever he flies, and it's better than losing the book he's meant to help interview people with.

“Lead the way!”

Chapter Text

If Ren made a bet that someone would punch him while flying around the skies, he definitely would’ve won. He just wouldn’t have been able to guess who’d punch him.

Now he’s sitting in one of Tango’s rooms in his castle. It’s only really because Tango turned down Ren’s request to chill around snow, wanting to see how far he can stay there until his fur freezes.

At least he’s not being punched to death though!

Tango doesn’t waste a second when the first thing he does is pass over a book to Ren, who confusedly takes it. He frowns when Ren just stares at him, having no idea what he wants him to do. Tango taps a finger against the front of the book. “Open it, first page.”

Ren does as he’s told, since there’s nothing else he can do right now, and he immediately raises an eyebrow at the first page. It’s definitely a confession. But the question is, who’s it for?

Tango watches him expectantly, sitting on a bed while he waits. “Well? You read it?”

“Yeah, man,” Ren replies, scratching behind an ear. He instinctively kicks his leg from his own action before holding the book with both hands. He meets Tango’s gaze, still lost. “If this is your way of confessing to me, you really could’ve just asked me out.”

Tango’s face flushes red, shaking his head quickly. “Nonono!”

However, Ren just goes on, closing the book and shrugging as it sits in his lap. “There’s no shame in having a crush, Tango,” he coos, having enough audacity to grin at his poor friend. “I know I’m irresistible, so I can’t blame you. Everyone wants a piece of me.”

“You-!”

Tango rubs his face with his palms, and the fire on the tip of his tail flares up with his hair. Ren and most other Hermits know it’s something to do with his emotions, and he’s surprisingly been doing a great job at not setting anything on fire!

Not yet anyway!

Grumbling, Tango glares half-heartedly at Ren. “It’s not for you, Ren. Zedaph gave it to me earlier, but I don’t know if it’s a prank or not.”

Before Ren can actually process what Tango’s telling him, he leans forward and whispers, “You sure you’re not trying to proclaim your undying love for me?”

“I will kill you.”

Innocently, Ren throws his hands up in defense, smiling at the poor Netherborn. “Okay, okay. You’re too shy to admit it, that’s fine.”

“I am not-”

“You said something about thinking it’s a prank or not, yeah?” Ren scratches his chin. “Does Zedaph normally prank you with a weirdly written confession?”

Tango shakes his head. “No, but what else is it supposed to be?”

Ren’s tail swishes behind him as he thinks. He snaps his fingers once he’s got an idea. “Maybe it’s a new game. Ever heard of gay chicken?”

The Netherborn stares at him like he’s just turned into a cat. “..What does the sexuality of chickens have to do with games or this, Ren?”

Ren laughs and, noticing his friend’s hair and tail flames flare up again, raises his hands in defense. “No, no. Gay chicken is a game. It might be what Zedaph’s doing.”

“How’s it work?”

“Kinda depends which version you’re going for, my dude.”

Ren considers Zedaph might be aiming for a safer, Hermit-friendly version, but he doesn’t entirely chuck the other one off the table. If his friends are happy and safe, it’s not really his business what they get up to with one another.

Now he’s just trying to figure out how a confession works in the game.

“If it’s what I first thought of, there’s the version where two people get each other hot and bothered by any means until someone chickens out.”

His ear flicks when Tango nearly chokes on air.

And Ren goes on. “If it’s the other one, the two people act all romantic or something until someone chickens out from that.” He pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Which one do you think it is?”

Tango’s face burns, and Ren can only imagine what’s going on in his head right now. His reaction, though, is priceless. “I’d like to not answer that! Thanks!”

“Which one do you want it-”

Ren yelps, ducking his head from having a carrot thrown at him. He turns to take it off the wall, not wishing to dwell over the fact there could’ve been some real bad karma if he died to a carrot, and tosses it back to Tango.

“That’s..” Tango slides the carrot into a chest, slamming it shut. “That’s what you get.”

“If you think it’s a prank,” Ren starts, and a surprised laugh leaves him when Tango squints. He doesn’t trust me anymore. Fair enough. “How about pranking him back? Like a game of gay chicken.”

“What am I supposed to do to get him back when that’s what he’s given me to work with?” Tango groans. “If he left sheeps in boats at my base or something, that I can get back at him for. I don’t know what to do about this.”

“Flirt back?” Ren suggests. Honestly, he’s not too sure what else Tango could do as payback. “Jokingly, anyway. If you’re both on a comfortable enough level with each other to flirt as a joke, then use that as payback.”

Tango blinks. “I didn’t actually think you’d say something that makes total sense.”

Ren scoffs, laughing. “Wow. Thanks, man.”

Tango waves his tail at him while he starts digging through a chest. “You can go now, dude. I think I know what I’m gonna do to get him back for this.”

Ren hops up to his feet and tosses the book where he was sitting. “Alright! I, uh, I wish you luck with your payback mission, Tango!”

“Thanks!”

Ren gives a nod before he turns and walks out of the room, glancing up to see if he can fly out. Unlike some Hermits’ bases where there’s no ceiling or there’s at least a single gap to fly through, Tango’s base is pretty sealed. It’s in a cold biome after all!

So he shrugs on a pair of mechanical wings, stretches them out manually to make sure they still have enough power to get him through more flights, and he zips out of his friend’s base.

Chapter Text

Zedaph’s been keeping himself busy for a while now.

Between working on getting more advancements — Zedvancements — and seeing the insides of one or two Hermits in The Chamber, he’s also been waiting for replies from his letters.

Right now, he’s spending his time with Mumbo and Scar in an underground box of pink wool underground. There’s not much leg or head room, but all Zedaph’s worried about is whether or not people overhear.

Jellie seems to be a bit more restless in this space, considering how she keeps pawing at the walls. She’s tried biting at the wool already, which made her jump right back into Scar’s lap, dissatisfied with the lack of results.

“Before Jellie decides to dig her way out somehow, mind telling us why we’re here, Zed?” Mumbo asks, watching the cat narrow her eyes at him when he mentions her name.

Sucking in a breath, Zedaph explains, “I’ve been trying to tell two people I love them romantically, but they think I’m joking or only mean it specifically as platonic best friends, which is also true, and I asked Wels for advice to confess more directly!” He takes a breather, then goes on. “Then Wels told me to confess to them in a letter, which is the most brilliant idea I’ve ever heard by the way, and I did! I wrote two books to confess! I even hand-delivered them so there can’t be any confusion!” Another breath. “But I haven’t gotten a reply back from either of them, which makes me think it’s all blowing up in my face entirely and they just see me as their best friend and I love them too much to-”

Mumbo waves a hand to pause the sheep’s rambling, which works. “You.. You said a lot of words there, mate, and I don’t think I understand any of it.”

Scar pipes up, “He just said his book confessions to his crushes isn’t working. Open your ears, Mumbo!”

Jellie mewls, matching Scar’s enthusiasm while laying in his lap.

“I-” Mumbo shakes his head and turns his attention back on Zedaph. “Okay. And what are Scar and I meant to do about that?”

Scar laughs, as if it’s obvious. And to Zedaph, it should be. “We offer advice, silly!” He looks to the sheep expectantly. “Right? Or am I jumping over what you wanted us for?”

Zedaph sits against the wall only to stand right back up, pacing back and forth from one corner of the wall to the other. “I did want to ask you guys for help, but I don’t know what to do. What if it ruins our friendship? What if they think I’m weird for having two crushes at once?”

“One, Hermits are who we are because of our weirdness!” Scar chirps proudly, followed by Jellie’s encouraging meows. “I obviously can’t speak for your lucky fellows, but I don’t think anyone in this server will hold a crush or two against you. If any of us did, Xisuma and all the rest of us have your back.”

Mumbo nods along while he listens. He waits for Scar to finish before speaking. “Scar took all the words right out of my mouth. But I’ll also say it’s not your fault if these crushes of yours think you’re odd or try to make you feel bad. Feelings are weird, I know that, but no one really gets a say in how their brain or heart respond to things and people.” He pauses. “..I hope that makes sense?”

Zedaph doesn’t give a proper answer before lunging at the two men, wrapping one arm around either one.

“Steady there,” Mumbo laughs quietly, patting his friend’s back.

Scar makes a small oof noise before returning the gesture wholeheartedly. Jellie slinks to the ground to avoid being trapped in a hug, plopping against the wall with her paws shoved underneath her body.

“So,” Mumbo starts, waiting a few seconds to sit against the wall opposite of Scar and Jellie. He looks at Zedaph, then gestures to himself and Scar. “You want our advice then, yeah?”

Zedaph nods.

“What about showing you love them like they’re other sheep?” Scar suggests.

Both heads turn to Scar. Jellie’s in her own little world, falling asleep seconds ago.

“They..” Zedaph thinks about what he’s wanting to say, tilting his head with furrowed eyebrows. “..aren’t sheep, Scar.”

Scar rolls his eyes and brings his hands together. It’s that same look he gets when he has an idea-in-the-making. “Okay, yeah, I know that! But you can still show you wanna love them in a nonplatonic way.. by doing things sheep do to be nonplatonically affectionate!”

Either I’ve finally lost it, or Scar has.

“I don’t know what that means,” he admits. No matter how many times he tries thinking about what Scar’s suggesting, he can’t come up with any clear answer.

“Well!” He has that bright-eyed look still. “I’m a Vex, yeah? Cub is too!”

“Where are you going with this?” Mumbo asks, only to be hushed by a very curious sheep. He sighs and motions for Scar to continue.

Scar resumes. “While we’re both the same species, Cub has Allay coding in him! Before we came here, we taught each other our own traditions of Vexes and Allays.” He’s smiling now, brushing his thumb over his pinky ring. “With Vexes, most of us aggressively show how much we love each other or our summoners by fighting.”

“That just sounds painful.”

“Shh, Mumbo!”

“Okay, sorry!”

Sighing with content, Scar’s eyes are only on the ring. “Cub was raised with Allay traditions though. When I showed him how many wounds I earned, he said I was being reckless.” His voice becomes soft, and his eyes gleam with something Zedaph recognizes but can’t name. “I told him it was to impress him. … That’s when he said he’s been bringing me weapons, even though he didn’t want me getting hurt, because that’s how most Allays show their love.”

“That’s adorable,” Zedaph whispers, like the wool-built space they’re in has suddenly become fragile, precious even. “But I can’t do that with sheep things. We’re not really romantic as we are..” He debates how to phrase it before settling with, “..We’re more interested in having lambs.”

Mumbo seems to get the idea, if him averting his eyes is anything to go off of.

Scar, however, just blinks. “I mean, I like lambs too, but why can’t you do things with your crushes from your culture?”

“Because we want to-”

He’s cut off from bluntly explaining it when Mumbo takes the question himself. “Remember when you asked why I didn’t want you wearing my suit?”

Scar nods at him. “Yeah! I could’ve at least tried it and given it back, man!”

“I know, but that’s because it would’ve given other Hermits the wrong idea,” Mumbo explains, watching Scar carefully to see if it’s making sense to him. When Scar blinks, seemingly still confused, Mumbo keeps trying. “Think of it like the rings you and Cub have, okay? That’s something special to you both, not anyone else.”

“Uh huh?”

“For me with my clothes, it’s about scents. Having another Hermit share my scent makes them special to me if I share it with them.”

Zedaph flicks his tail in wonder. “On that topic, do you get overly clingy when you and someone else have-”

Apparently that’s the moment Scar seems to understand. “Oh! You guys are talking about sex and mates, right?”

While Mumbo’s flushed at the correct assumption, Zedaph’s much less ashamed.

“Yeah, pretty much!” Zedaph answers nonchalantly, nodding. “Some sheep make others urinate by sniffing their sensitive parts, and then they take the urinator as a mate. Incredibly difficult if the urinator’s stubborn though, but that’s nature for you!”

“You-“ Mumbo huffs and shakes his head in disbelief. “..I don’t want to ask.”

“You don’t think I do that, do you, Mumbo?” Zedaph asks, surprised someone could think so low of him.

“No, but-”

“I’m surprised at you!” He makes a small tsk sound. “I’d much rather bite someone to see if they can handle what I’ve got to offer.”

“So you’d bite your crushes then, yeah?” Scar asks, looking between the two. Jellie’s back in his lap by now, purring as he soothingly pets her fur.

Just like that, the sheep’s eyes widen.

Mumbo turns to his friend, concerned. “You don’t seriously think Zed will do something that stupid-”

Zedaph stands up and starts breaking down the woolly walls, stacking them up in his inventory. “I’m gonna bite to show my affection! That should be clear enough for them!”

He ignores the moth’s groaning. “I know I can’t say anything to stop you, but will you at least be careful?” he asks, and Zedaph pays mind to his friend’s pinched brows of worry. “Some people don’t like getting bitten.”

Zedaph waves away those concerns, shelving them to the back of his brain for later Zedaph to worry about. Once all wool’s been stacked away, he starts breaking away the dirt over them, glancing at the two who do the same. “I know these guys won’t mind some pain.”

It takes a good couple of minutes to break out from the ground and build themselves up, but soon, the trio climb to the top where the moon’s light almost looks blinding.

“Sooo, Zedaph,” Scar’s using a sing-songy voice, smiling at the sheep. “Are we allowed to know the lucky people you wanna bite?”

“Why do you phrase it like that?” Mumbo complains.

Looking around first and silently regretting not saying it outright when they were underground, Zedaph leans in real close and whispers, “Impulse and Tango.”

Mumbo blinks. “Wait, is that why Impulse asked if I-”

Scar cuts right in, one hand on his wheel and the other tugging at Mumbo’s sleeve. “We both know you’ve got this, Zedaph!”

Sighing, Mumbo offers an encouraging smile and thumbs up. “Our communicators are always on us if you need us. Just be careful and do the best you can do.”

Zedaph feels a whole lot lighter having more support. Wels’ advice is still appreciated, he’ll need to offer the knight a thank-you gift when this is over, but the only thing currently on his mind is finding his two friends.

Chapter Text

If someone had told him that he’d receive an overwhelmingly generous amount of compliments and a couple of questionable remarks from 21 different Hermits, Impulse would’ve been slightly suspicious as to what everyone’s planning.

Keralis tells him the book has 21 answers now, which at first, Impulse doesn’t process right away. There’s 25 Hermits on the server, he’s already excluding himself and Keralis from the start, also excluding the 21 already interviewed, so that should leave 1 left to interview.

“Tango’s the last one to question,” he tells his friend, testing out his elytra to double-check it has enough strength. He’s had to replace it twice now, but that’s not the point. “Ready, Keralis?”

At his friend’s sound of approval, both of them fly off in search of the Netherborn.

It takes a full hour searching from Tango’s castle to the Shopping District before Impulse, whose patience ran out a while ago, lands on the ground with his communicator out.

Since he’s already interviewed everyone else, Impulse doesn’t think twice sending a regular message to the main chat.

<impulseSV> hey Tango?

<impulseSV> i wanna talk if youre free!

His mind moves on to look through the book of responses Keralis wrote on each page while they wait. He feels this has been a good approach at figuring out who the letter’s from, mostly because he’s not thinking of backup plans if this doesn’t go how he thinks it will.

Then he feels a buzz and holds out his communicator.

<Zedaph whispers to you> I’m with Tango in the Nether :D

<Zedaph whispers to you> We’ll wait for you at the bottom of the big tree!!!

“Where’s the nearest Nether portal from here?” Impulse asks as he puts the communicator away, passing the book back to Keralis, who’s watching him intently.

There’s definitely something going on and I’m not sure what they’re planning.

“I know a fast way there,” Keralis replies as he’s already flying off without waiting for a response.

Impulse goes after him, keeping an eye out for any tricks, and he lands some distance from the Nether portal before following Keralis through it. He hesitates before stepping out, checking twice he doesn’t walk right off into lava.

“Zed said they’re going to wait for me at the bottom of..” Impulse stops himself when he can barely make out two familiar shapes by the roots of the largest tree in the Nether. He can’t tell if they’ve seen him yet, so he takes his communicator out to let them know ahead of time.

<You whisper to Zedaph> im here!

“Are you going to question Zedaph too, sweetface?”

Impulse holds his arm up and waves around until he thinks one of them’s waving back. He adjusts the straps of his elytra, mulling over what Keralis asked.

“No, why would I?” Impulse answers, pointing out the base of the tree his friends are at before leading Keralis in that direction. “It’s not like him to write a letter, Keralis. Zed’s more like the kind of person who speaks his truth upfront, you know? He’s an honest guy.”

Glancing back at him, he swears the guy’s eyes are slightly bigger than they usually are.

“If..” He can hear the hesitation in Keralis’ voice, staying quiet. “If it is his letter, and-.. and it’s his words, would that upset you?”

Impulse stops to look at the distance between him and his friends. Then he turns to Keralis, lowering his voice in case either of them came over. “No, I wouldn’t. Because I know it’s not his.”

“Impy!”

I know that awful nickname anywhere.

Hushing Keralis with a no-more-questions look, Impulse turns back around only to feel himself knocked down by an overly excited Netherborn.

“Hey!” he laughs, like the tackle squeezed all other feelings right out of him. “Missed me?” Impulse teases as he whirls a finger over Tango’s hair, watching the flames dance around.

“Uh, duh!” Tango’s tail whips around when he jumps off of Impulse, holding his hand out and pulling his friend up.

That’s when Impulse gets a better look at him. More specifically, his neck.

“Hey uh, Tango?”

Tango raises an eyebrow, smiling. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“You’ve..” How do I put this? Impulse brushes his fingers over his neck. “You’ve got a red spot right here, man. What happened? Faulty regen or something?”

Tango blinks at him. Once, twice, and then his cheeks flush crimson. “Oh- Oh! Yeah dude, it was wild. I got attacked by a magma cube-”

“I’m a magma cube now?”

Zedaph inserts himself into the conversation, no big surprise there, and he haphazardly wraps his arm around Tango.

A magma cube burned him?

When Keralis nudges his shoulder with the book, Impulse nods and focuses on Tango. Not the mark on his neck. “Tango, how do you feel about me?”

Zedaph glances between the book and Tango before taking his arm off of him, clasping his hands in front of himself. “What’s the book for?”

Impulse doesn’t answer, waiting on Tango.

“I’d say you’re a pretty cool dude, dude!” Tango says, offering a sincere smile.

Keralis writes it down word-for-word, cutting half the sentence as needed. “Is Zedaph also-”

Impulse stops him with a light shh, and he takes the book to start flipping through it to page one.

Huffing, Keralis tries again, speaking much louder with impatience. “Zedaph, what do you think of Impulse?”

“We can go now, Keralis,” Impulse tells his friend, turning his back and powering up his wings. “We have everything, so now we’re gonna go back to..” The rest of his words fall in line with rambles while he flies away.

Chapter Text

Tango spends his time in the Nether for a plethora of different reasons; mostly so he has some him-time in the part of the world he’s so comfortable in.

He’s thought about his conversation with Ren before. ‘Flirt back?’ replays in his mind over and over. He’d say he’s okay at being flirtatious. He can’t remember doing it for reasons other than it being funny or a joke between other Hermits.

Thinking about it, when has he ever flirted with non-joking intentions anyway?

With Zedaph earlier, he can’t really tell if there was any space there to flirt. Even ‘babe’ sounds weird in his head. Not to mention Impulse showing up out of nowhere.

“Impulse’s asking where you are,” Zedaph warns, pressing up against Tango’s side with his communicator out.

Tango’s thumb traces over his neck with a wince. Zedaph just bit him for ‘science’ and now he’s pretending nothing happened? Was Ren right that he’s trying to get somewhere with this? With him?

“I told him we’re waiting here for him.”

“What? Why?” He tries to keep his tone even. Isn’t this supposed to be their time together? Maybe Zedaph wants to hang out with him and Impulse instead.

“Because science,” is the totally not vague, ominous reply the sheep gives him. When did he become less bold?

He’s popped out of his thoughts when his communicator buzzes, so he holds it out and leans back against the large tree he’s been spending time under.

<iJevin whispers to you> Where are you?

Raising an eyebrow, Tango looks up in case it’s a trick, then he starts his reply.

<You whisper to iJevin> below the nether hub tree

<iJevin whispers to you> On my way

Tango feels something warm bump against his neck and looks up, eyes going wide when he sees it’s a piglin standing over him. “Oh- Hey, buddy!” he chuckles, flicking his tail in a greeting.

The piglin lightly bumps their head against his neck again, snorting.

Even though he’s as much a Netherborn as other beings born in the Nether are, it doesn’t exactly mean they all see him — or each other — on friendly terms. Tango seems to get more positive reactions from piglins most, slightly lower with thieving baby piglins though, which he may or may not casually boast about to Overworlders and non-piglin Netherborns.

In his defense, how many of his friends can say they’re pretty much best friends with piglins? Exactly, zilch!

“You want me to move or something?” he asks the piglin, taking his time to stand and face them. First thing he notices is their golden apple-shaped earrings on one ear. “When did you get those? I swear, I thought you had two last time!”

The piglin snorts at him and slowly spins around. What a show-off. Tango shakes his head, listening to them eagerly go on about how they earned the trust of a whole different hoard to the point they received their earrings as a sign of trust from them.

“Really?” The piglin nods happily. “And even their children don’t steal from you?” They nod again, poking a claw at Tango’s chest. He gasps in mock offense. “Wow- Okay, okay! Brag about it all you want, Mx. Babies-Don’t-Steal-From-Me! I see how it is!”

“Tango?”

Whipping his head around, Tango looks at a pair of sandals coming up to him, then realizes it’s his favorite blue slime in the server. “Jevin!” He pats the piglin on the head, who purrs affectionately, before turning to fully face his friend. “Thought you wouldn’t show, man! What kept you?”

“Other than fighting a baby piglin so they’d give back a literal piece of me?” Jevin shows what he means when he holds up a blue ball of slime. His slime. And he stacks it on his leg, both of them watching it sink into his skin. “I’m good. Kind of peeved, but I’m good.”

Tango wraps his tail around the piglin’s when they poke him, and they let out a quietly disgruntled squeal when they look at Jevin. Tango pats their head in reassurance. “It’s okay, buddy. Jev, meet Rene. Rene, this is my Overworld friend, Jevin.”

Rene takes their time before unwrapping their tail from Tango’s and stalking towards Jevin, who stays where he is. Then they bonk their head against his chest.

Jevin makes a confused yet irritated noise when he steps back, half-glaring at them before looking to Tango for an answer. “What’d they do that for?”

“Piglins show affection in slightly aggressive ways, Jev!” Tango answers defensively. “Brutes are the ones you should look out for, ‘cause their affection includes swinging an axe and giving each other scars!”

“Mmhm.” Jevin stares at Rene for a moment, who blinks at him. Then, pinched between two fingers, he holds out a necklace with a mini dragon head on one end. “Xisuma made this. I didn’t have any dragon heads on me.”

“Thanks, dude!” Tango’s tail flicks around eagerly as he takes the necklace, carefully sealing it away in his inventory. He takes out an ender chest to get some diamonds for payment, but Jevin shuts it with his foot. Tango looks up at him, confused. “I was-”

“Pay Xisuma later, not me,” Jevin says, moving his foot off the ender chest. “You can pay me with an answer though.”

“Yeah, man, sure. What’s up?”

“When I went to Xisuma for help with the necklace, he said Impulse’s been going around the server asking how we feel about him.” Jevin fixes one of his sandals when his foot almost absorbs it whole, huffing. “And word from a light-lover says a sheep’s got teeth for two. You know anything about either of those?”

“Uhh.”

“Tango.”

Tango’s about to completely dismiss the conversation for Rene, but they’ve already waddled elsewhere some time ago. He coughs into his arm, thinking.

But Jevin hits the bullseye first, eyeing a bit below Tango’s face.

“He bit you.”

It’s not a question. It’s a fact, one that Tango could’ve gone days without hearing someone sound so sure about it. Like he’s been caught.

“So what if he did?” Tango shrugs, playing it off like nothing. “Jealous?”

“Jealous of what?” Jevin raises an eyebrow. “You getting flustered over a love bite?”

Of all things, those last few words ring around Tango’s head, burning the tips of his ears. He tried to laugh it off, ignoring his hair and tail flaring at the thought of anything Jevin’s said being true. “What? It- Okay, ha ha, you really got me good, Jev!”

Jevin blinks. “You..” He’s choosing his words, which makes Tango feel more nerves spike. “Are you okay with him biting you?”

“Wh- Who?”

“You know who.”

“Wow, would you look at the time?” Tango checks his totally not-imaginary clock on his wrist, clicking his tongue. “I better go make some, mm, some more Nether buds and all that! See ya-!”

Jevin grabs his shoulder, holding him in place. “I’m not asking to make you feel bad or embarrassed, T. I’m asking if you’re comfortable with what someone’s doing to you.”

Suddenly it all starts to click. Tango doesn’t move, other than letting his gaze go elsewhere, focusing on anything else. “You.. Do you think Zed’s trying to hurt me?”

“With bad intentions? No, never,” Jevin answers. “I don’t know what he’s trying to do here, but it’s not fair to you or whoever else to be his guinea pigs. Some people aren’t into this kind of thing.” He pauses. “Some people don’t know how to express being uncomfortable either.”

“Like who, Jevin?”

Tango’s impatient. If he knew this would ever come up, something he never thought anyone would talk to him about, he would’ve reconsidered coming to the Nether in the first place.

“I’m a grown ass adult. Everyone here’s grown too. So if you think I can’t hold up my own boundaries, you don’t know anything.”

“I just want you to be safe,” Jevin’s voice is softer. He holds his hand away from the other’s shoulder, moving back. “I know you’re as capable as anyone else, but-”

Tango shakes his head. “The second you say ‘but’ means you disagree with me being capable. You don’t get both.”

“My comms are on if something happens,” Jevin says, half-heartedly.

“Just leave me alone.”

Jevin shuts his mouth and dips his head, puts on his elytra, and zips away.

Tango’s left to his own thoughts, feelings, and himself.

‘A sheep’s got teeth for two’, huh?

Chapter Text

“There’s something we should talk about, guys.”

An hour is how long it took Doc to gather four fellow Hermits to come huddle inside a quick dirt-built “house” he created in a random area away from Hermit Town, Spawn, and pretty much civilization with other Hermits.

“Is this about Pearl’s alien conspiracies?” Gem speaks first. “I don’t know who Jerry is either, but she keeps saying xe’s friendly.”

“Jerry?” Iskall repeats and raises an eyebrow. “I thought xeir name’s Jim?” He looks at Beef and Cub. “Isn’t it Jim?”

“She told me xeir name’s Johnson,” Beef says, shaking his head. “Maybe xe’s been going through name changes, or xe hoards names?” His eyes light up in realization, or whatever that face’s meant to be. “Or xe has many names in different worlds!”

Rubbing his hands over his face, Doc groans. “What in the world are you guys talking about? If I wanted to go over alien theories or whatever, I would’ve brought Pearl here.”

Some of them murmur in agreement. He pretends he doesn’t hear one of them ask if Pearl’s just late and if this is a conspiracy group.

Clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention back, Doc raises his hand. “Anyone here interacted with any suspicious Hermits recently?”

Iskall answers without having to think about it. “Last Hermit I talked to was Stress, but I don’t think she’s doing anything suspicious. We went over floral designs she can do around her base.”

“XB and I talked about minigames we wanna play together next time we’re free!” Gem follows-up.

“Wels asked if telling someone to write letters to confess feelings is still something we do in modern times.” Beef scratches his cheek, thinking. “And Bdubs asked me if he’s being haunted by invisible skeletons because Scar keeps Hawkeye-ing him and flying away.”

“Tango wanted to know if healing potions work on hickeys.”

Doc points at Beef after some processing. “So you-” Then he lowers his hand and looks at Cub, who’s picking at bits of dirt under him. “He- What?”

Beef wipes an imaginary tear from his eye, sniffling. “They grow up so fast..”

Gem raises her hand. “I wanna know if they work too! Animals are wild when you put them in a pen together and give them alone time!”

Iskall shakes his head, focusing on what Gem’s saying. “Your animals gave each other those? They can do that?”

Gem snorts at him and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? You didn’t know they can love each other like that?”

Iskall shakes his head again. “No, I didn’t! Mind you, Gem, some of us aren’t total animal experts or hybrid experts!”

Gem turns and shares a look with Beef. “Imagine not being an animal expert, Beef. Couldn’t be me!”

Beef nods. “Me neither.”

Iskall huffs at them, arms crossed. “Wow, thanks.”

After the little banter as the three have their own conversation, Doc refocuses on Cub, who’s all ears. Or Doc hopes he is.

“You know,” Cub starts before Doc can get a word out. “I never pegged Wels to be the confess-through-letters type.”

“Oh, he didn’t confess!” Beef chimes in. “He was helping a friend.”

Gem nudges his shoulder with hers. “Unless he found a way back to his world, or he has some amazing ancient tech letting him talk to them from here, all of his current friends are here, Beef.”

Beef sits up before laying against the dirt wall. “Wels didn’t say who it was, and as his friend, I respect his and the other person’s privacy.”

“Hermits and secrets never last long,” Doc says. His attention’s on all of them now, who turn their eyes to him. “It is good to respect privacy of others, though.”

“Sooo,” Gem taps her fingers together, looking at one of the dirt blocks around them. “Cubster, what’s the deal with Tango and healing hickeys? What’s that about?”

“I was with Scar so he could show me how he builds trees from scratch, terraforming and everything.” Cub rolls his shoulders slowly back and forth, some bones popping in place before he’s done. “Then Tango comes around asking if we had healing potions on us. Of course I did, I was with Scar for Void’s sake, and Scar’s the one who asked why he needed some.”

“And he told you he has hickeys?” Doc asks, tilting his head. He’d expect that from someone like Cleo with how brutally honest and blunt she is.

Cub chuckles and taps a part of his neck. “Kind of hard to miss when it’s a whole red thing right here. He said someone bit him.”

“Someone bit him?” Beef repeats, confused. “Is this some game or something? Bite a Hermit for a point?” he asks, looking around the group.

Gem shrugs. “Maybe it’s one of those hush-hush things like with Hermit Challenges some worlds ago. Or like tag. We have no idea what’s happening until we’re pulled into the game!”

“Did Tango say it’s a game?” Iskall asks, looking at Cub. “A competition, maybe? A challenge?”

“When Xisuma said most of us are challenge-driven, I should’ve agreed with him,” is what Cub says right off the bat. “Is it too much to process that someone’s into giving him bites and he’s into it too?”

Beef puts a hand to where his heart is, roughly. “As much as I adore Tango like I do with all of the Hermits, I’d be surprised if this is a genuine thing. But I’d be supportive! A happy Hermit is a good Hermit!”

“I’m with Beef,” Gem agrees, nodding along. “I would’ve thought that’s more Cleo’s thing. But, like Beef said, I’m happy if Tango is.”

{Tango} was pricked to death.

Everyone in the dirt house has their communicators out to look at the new message; a death message.

“I can’t believe talking about him led to his death,” Iskall jokes, looking over the message two or three more times before tucking away his device.

Doc keeps his eyes on the message, thinking what could’ve happened to lead to that kind of death. Do any of us have cacti around or in our bases, or our shops? Or this is a game, isn’t it?

<VintageBeef> Are you okay??

<ZombieCleo> nice

<falsesymmetry> Be more careful!

“Hey Doc?”

Doc looks up as soon as their communicators buzz a new notification, looking at Cub, who called for him. “Yes?”

Cub taps the top of his communicator. “Think we can reschedule this get-together until Xisuma’s had his share?”

“His..” Doc trails off when he looks down at the device, at the most recent message in chat.

<Xisuma> Meeting at Spawn please everyone!

Doc stands and goes to hold the door open, waiting for his friends to leave before he does. Closing it behind him, he pockets the communicator and sighs. “We’ll get back to this another time, preferably after X’s meeting.”

“Sounds good to me!”

“Okay.”

“Alright then!”

“See you later!”

Doc closes his eyes for a moment to destress. He’s not even sure why he’s stressed. It’s none of his business who the Hermits mess around with if no one’s getting hurt or upset. His only concern should be their well being.

I shouldn’t let it get to me. If no one’s getting hurt by this, then I can’t shove myself into personal things like it anyway! It’s not like secrets stay hidden forever.

Chapter Text

After sending the message to meet at Spawn, Xisuma closes his eyes and holds his arms out to crack his knuckles. It’s more to lessen how tense he feels than fully relax, but he thinks it’ll help.

Until someone enters his unofficial base of obsidian. It’s large and close to Spawn, and it may be underwater to keep away from most mobs or Hermits who would’ve absolutely tried picking away at the thing if it were above land.

“Xisuma?”

His eyes are burning holes into the desk his head’s laying on, but he reluctantly looks up, sitting up when he sees who’s speaking. “Wels? What are you doing here?”

Wels sucks in a breath before replying, “I’ve done something I don’t know how to feel about and I’ve sworn honesty to you always since I joined this world-”

“Slow down, please,” Xisuma tells him, keeping his tone light and gentle. If I don’t think about the stress, it’ll leave on its own. “What did you do? And, about your oath, you have every right to-”

Wels doesn’t let him finish, which Xisuma doesn’t mind. He’d rather handle whatever the knight’s concerns are before the meeting and before the stress just keeps adding up.

“Zedaph came to me for advice, which I didn’t know enough about what he wanted to know to even give the best advice, but I did try my hardest to tell him what I did know, and he’s been telling me his advances aren’t working and I just feel-”

Before the knight somehow has the server create a deprived-of-air death message out of nowhere, Xisuma holds a hand up to stop him briefly. “Slower, please. You said you gave Zedaph advice and.. He said his ‘advances’ aren’t working? What advances?”

Wels huffs and moves away from the door, lowering his voice to almost a whisper. His armor rattles when he moves. “He has.. crushes. Even with my oath to you, I’m well-aware it’s not my right to be any more specific than that.” He pauses, and Xisuma mentally praises him for taking his time to explain. Then he continues, “He asked how he should confess because he’s been obvious for Void-knows-how-long. I told him to write letters, and he was so excited!”

Xisuma smiles a little. He can imagine the sheep hybrid hopping about, more than happy to solve his confessing dilemma. It’s heartwarming every time one of his friends gets giddy over something, like receiving a proper batch of redstone tools to help with farming materials or finding that one thing that seems impossible to find.

The Hermits are his family, no matter what the Void has to say about that.

Wels’ face falls from his own smile, and the plume of his helmet droops to match how crestfallen he seems. It’s not a look Xisuma likes seeing on anyone, even from someone seemingly emotionally-kept-together. “I found out from Mumbo and Scar that my advice was useless. He went to them for better advice.”

“That’s not your fault, Wels,” Xisuma reassures him, taking a millisecond to leave his table and wrap his arms around the knight, who sinks in the embrace. “I’ve seen how you advise Hermits during wars to make sure everything’s civil, fair, and you keep real fights from breaking out. Your advice is just as good as anyone else’s. Having older knowledge doesn’t change that.”

He half-expects Wels to say something, even a whisper to say he feels better or maybe even express his doubts. Instead, he hears a clunk when Wels holds him close. His plume’s still drooping, but it’s slightly swishing.

Xisuma whispers, “We don’t all get along 24/7, but we all will do what we can to keep each other safe and feeling comfortable.”

“I’m sorry-”

He clicks his tongue softly. “Nothing to apologize for. I’ll talk to those three later so they know to be aware of others’ feelings.” He pauses, thinking. “..Unless you give me permission, I will keep your name out of my warning. I don’t believe they’d let this bother them, not to a hostile point, but I need to keep everyone here from getting hurt.”

It stings his ears listening to Wels sob against him. He swears to the Void he’ll do his best to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again, and to make sure this gets solved soon.

‘Your Hermits will kill each other and destroy this world you all think you love so much.’ He imagines the Void’s taunts. ‘And when they do, when Hermitcraft’s 9th world is your last, I’ll consume every bit of it.’

“Xisuma..”

Xisuma shakes his head out of his thoughts. He holds Wels’ shoulders and gently pushes him back to examine his face. Despite the knight’s sobs and fallen expression, his eyes hold no tears.

It’s something that Xisuma should get used to, he knows he needs to. But for some reason, it unsettles him to be occasionally reminded of it.

“They’re worried,” Wels continues when the Voidwalker fails to respond. He’s holding up his communicator to show what the other Hermits have been saying.

<Keralis1> Shashwammy?

<falsesymmetry> Do we stay here?

<PearlescentMoon> im telling them about nathan the alien! :D

<xBCrafted> nathan is my favorite alien sorry guys

Xisuma studies Wels’ face again. A wave of relief passes when Wels smiles. It’s small and he tries to tuck it away when he turns his head, but it’s enough.

“Are you okay to go to the meeting?” Xisuma asks. “I can call it off or stay here with you if you need more time.”

Wels shakes his head. He’s no longer smiling, and instead he’s wearing his stoic, I-will-fight-for-you look. “I’m still upset, but I don’t hold grudges anymore.” He dips his head. “Thanks, Xisuma.”

Xisuma dips his head as well. “It’s no problem.”

Just as Wels leaves and Xisuma returns to his desk, Bdubs and Hypno come in. Bdubs’ steps are quick and loud, and Hypno’s are slower, quiet.

“X!” Bdubs yells. He’s about to say something else before Hypno does first.

“Got a second?” he asks, meeting the Admin’s eyes.

While he’d rather get the meeting over with, Xisuma sighs and nods. The others will just have to wait a little longer.

<Xisuma> Give me a minute guys.

<Xisuma> Sorry to make you wait.

He listens to his comm beep with notifications before putting it away so his attention’s only on Bdubs and Hypno. “Carry on.”

Bdubs slaps the hand away from his mouth, chomping at the air close to Hypno as a warning.

“Calm down,” Hypno keeps his hand from getting bit, holding it away. “Honestly I just volunteered to keep Bdubs from running his mouth.”

“Running MY mouth!?”

Hypno ignores him for a moment. “He wanted to tell you Jevin and Tango had a fight.”

While other Admins would probably be off by now to settle whatever dispute’s going on, Xisuma doesn’t get that flight-and-flight instinct. Fights sometimes lead to wars in Hermitcraft, and anyone who's anyone won’t really bat an eye. “Did anyone get hurt?”

Hypno shrugs. “Tango fell asleep and Jevin killed him with a cactus.”

That’s a little new.

“Then they had a fight over that?” Xisuma asks, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. “Or did they fight before that?”

“It was over a bite!” Bdubs fills in. “Jevin asked if he’s okay with it, Tango thought Jevin thinks he’s helpless and dumb, and they won’t talk to each other!”

“I told him they’ll get over it at some point,” Hypno sighs. “Most of us don’t have good memories, and for those of us that do , we don’t really hold tight grudges.”

This conversation’s a lot shorter than I thought it’d be.

“Let them sort it out then,” Xisuma suggests. He taps the side of his helmet to open up his comm, sending a quick message to the other Hermits.

<Xisuma> I’ll be at Spawn soon.

<Xisuma> Sending Starbucks drinks and cookies to everyone at the meeting for being patient with me.

Bdubs flings his arms up. “Didn’t you hear what Hypno JUST SAID?! Jevin KILLED Tango with a CACTUS!”

“And I’ve managed to kill at least five different Hermits with Starbucks drinks,” Xisuma remarks. He gently shoulders past the pair out of the obsidian box, listening to them tread after him. “If anything goes too far or gets violent in an unfriendly sense, I’ll step in. But if it’s just a quarrel, that’s their business.”

Hypno looks back at Bdubs with a shrug before the latter pads along further than him.

“What’s unfriendly violence to you then?” Bdubs inquires, crossing his arms as he huffs along, keeping up well enough to Xisuma’s speed walking. “When they KEEP killing each other? Or when a CACTUS becomes an AXE?”

“I have a little more to worry about than this right now.” Xisuma chews the inside of his cheek at the look of betrayal glaring back at him. He turns his head, glancing around before he spots Spawn and makes a fairly steady beeline there. “I’m not saying I don’t care , in case you thought that. But they aren’t doing anything out of the ordinary, they aren’t hurt to an extent that makes it my issue. That doesn’t mean I won’t check in on them or keep myself up-to-date on chat logs.”

Hypno’s footsteps are quicker now. Not as fast as Xisuma’s or as light as Bdubs’, but they’re quick. “You have logs on private chats? Or d’you mean public only?”

Xisuma ignores the question and tips his chin up at the eyes of other Hermits looking to him when he arrives.

“Oh sweetface!” Keralis wheezes out. Was he holding his breath?

Cub greets him with a slap on the shoulder, which almost messes up Xisuma’s rhythm for a second. “There you are, X. Glad you could make it.”

Beef follows that up with lightly shoving a bowl of soup in the Admin’s hands. He smiles. “Gramps’ recipe. And you don’t have to finish it all now, but save some for later. It tastes even better cooled and then reheated!”

Xisuma doesn’t get to say anything when he simply scoops up a spoonful of soup, barely registering its odd greenish-brownish color, and feeds himself. It doesn’t register that Beef’s leading him to a chair until he realizes he’s finished the bowl clean.

I didn’t think I’d be this hungry. Void.

The burns on his tongue and in his mouth are worth the squeal of joy his friend lets out. He lets Beef take the bowl back, watching him return to wherever he’d been sitting to wait in the first place.

I’ll need to remember to eat extra if my hunger’s going to drain faster than I thought it would.

Making a mental note to himself, Xisuma closes his eyes and sets it up as a reminder in the next four hours to check his hunger. Once his helmet accepts the reminder, he opens his eyes and is met with many, many curious eyes.

Right. Forgot I was meant to hold a meeting.

“Urm.” Xisuma clears his throat. How embarrassing. “I won’t make this meeting too long, knowing how many of you must be eager to get back to working on your projects and all.”

He closes his eyes briefly, not wanting to fully acknowledge the clear absence of both Jevin and Tango. He has his comm active at all times, so he’s more than ready to teleport if anything serious happens.

He hesitates for just a second before opening his eyes to meet everyone else’s gazes. He meets every single pair of eyes he can, even if his brain’s warning him.

“Ren actually warned me about this, so credit for this goes to him.”

Ren raises a hand before someone holds it back down.

Xisuma continues. “There have been a couple of instances of blocks suddenly disappearing. I don’t mean the odd thing with Boatem Hole in the last world where some of the bedrock was visually there and not physically .”

Despite Doc holding his hand down, Ren shoots up his other one, tail wagging. “I almost fell to my death riding Doc’s-”

Doc clamps his mechanical hand over the canine hybrid’s mouth. “Moving on.” He fixes his narrowed eyes onto Xisuma, who finds himself having to sit up straight. “Have you checked if it’s a Hermit doing it? Or a break in the code, or the server’s issue?”

“Not yet,” is as close to honest as Xisuma can get. He has a vague idea what’s causing issues, but he doesn’t want to point any knowing glares without making sure he’s right. “I have the code running at my Obsidi-Base on my handheld comm, though I’m not sure how long it will take to scrub out any viruses that have gone in.”

Or to get enough sanity back to destress if it’s what I think it is.

“Meeting’s over then, right?” Impulse questions, already standing up. He must’ve been waiting too long, which Xisuma wouldn’t judge any of them if they’re more than ready to get up and go.

Xisuma nods. “Yes.” He glances at Bdubs and Hypno, who have stood by him for the past.. however long they’ve been here. He lowers his voice and leans in towards them. “If you find out anything goes sour between you-know-who, tell me or Doc. We’ll handle it the best we can.”

“Won’t you be busy figuring out the wack coding and all that?”

“The safety and wellbeing of my Hermits is worth just as much to me as keeping our server safe and virus-free,” Xisuma answers.

He bids the lingering Hermits goodbye and readies his command to teleport back to his box of obsidian.

Before his eyes settle on a book left in one of the seats.

Sighing, the Admin sets aside his commands and comes forward to pick up the book, examining the cover and first page for any sign of who it belongs to.

His eyes hone in on the last words on the page.

“I love you romantically.”

And when he thinks about it, gives the full thing a look-over, something clicks.

“Xisuma!” Impulse waves to him, followed by an out-of-breath Keralis tagging along. “Can- Geez- Can we talk for a second?”

Xisuma just left his Obsidi-Box after dealing with a certain mishap between a war-loving avian, Jellie, and liquified cookies. Thinking about it makes him feel uneasy.

So he welcomes this distraction, nodding his head towards Impulse. “Sure? It’s not something that involves digging into code or teleporting a Hermit away from getting attacked by Jellie again, is it?”

Impulse and Keralis share a look once they’ve reached him. Oh how more confused they’d be if they witnessed what he did.

“Book please,” Impulse tells Keralis, who passes him a book with a quill tucked in it. It’s taken years of self-restraint for Xisuma not to curiously lean forward and try to peek at a page or two. “How do you feel about me? And be honest!”

Xisuma blinks. “Sorry?”

“He feels sorry for you,” Keralis says, joking, and the stupid comment gets a laugh out of the Admin. In his defense, it caught him off guard! And having to meet his friend’s wide eyes isn’t helping! “See, see!” Keralis points an accusing finger at Xisuma. “He’s laughing at you!”

Impulse doesn’t seem to be taking it as lightly as the two of them were. He clears his throat, shifting weight from one foot to the other where he stands. His quill’s held firm yet gently between two fingers, the tip probably barely against the page, itching to dance around it.

Xisuma’s thankful Keralis doesn’t press further with his ‘accusations’, only keeping a half-steady smile as he nods for Impulse to resume.

“How do you, in all honesty, feel about me?” Impulse reiterates, going slower this time.

“You’re smart-”

“I meant your feelings, Xisuma! Not- I appreciate the compliment, I swear, but I really just need to hear how you feel about me.”

It all makes sense to him now.

Impulse wanted to leave fast because of him.

Chapter Text

“Do I get to know why we’re hiding in Impulse’s light shop or is this supposed to be a hush-hush prank?”

Grian thanks the Void his sight comes back to him, wherever it even went, before catching four pairs of eyes staring right at him. It’d be creepy if he wasn’t used to that haunting feeling already.

That, however, is a story for another world.

“Thanks for..” Grian trails off, gesturing at thin air, looking for something to fill in missing words. He doesn’t find them, so he huddles against the wall, hands on his knees. “Why are we here?”

xB nods off to the other three. He’s sitting by the ray of beacons closest to the block of cobblestone someone placed over the top of the staircase. “All I did was splash a temp-blindin’ potion at him, and that’s good enough for me. So one of y’all tell him.”

“Alien conspiracies?” Grian guesses, absolutely leaving no room for someone else to try and spoil the surprise. If they’re willing enough to trap themselves in here with him, they better know how willing he is to make an accurate guess!

“Why weren’t you at the meeting earlier?” False pipes up. She flaps one wing towards him, sending a welcoming breeze his way that passes through his feathers.

“Oh!”

That’s what this is about? I was really betting on Pearl’s alien conspiracies!

“I was busy!”

Apparently that’s not the best answer he could’ve chosen, judging by the exchange of looks and the amount of raised eyebrows aimed at him.

“Busy teething with anyone lately?” comes Iskall’s voice. He’s sitting against the cobblestone blocking the staircase, and False’s to his left. “I learned birds-”

“Baby birds-”

Iskall quietly shushes False before he resumes. “I learned baby birds sometimes beak at pretty much everything to experiment how it all feels. For purely no reason at all and it’s just curiosity in the air speaking, have you been doing anything like that, Grian? Just, you know, with teeth since you have those?”

“Unless he has a hidden beak,” Pearl fails to whisper, leaning in close to Iskall despite her volume barely changing. She’s to his left, which means she and xB are seated closer to Grian. She looks at the colorful avian. “ Do you have a hidden beak?”

“I don’t think even he can hide something like that, Pearly,” False laughs.

I so could! Not that I even have a secret beak. I’d probably be terrified if I found out I actually do have one.. That’s going at the top of my ‘never think about this again’ list!

“I’m ignoring that blatant insult,” Grian tells her, sending the other avian a playful warning glare. It just makes her laugh again, so he moves on, eyeing the quieter of the group. “xB?”

xB looks at him. “Yeah?”

“Since you’re the only one here not making insults about me-”

Iskall gasps in mock offense. “When did I insult you??”

“You compared me to a baby bird, so shush!” Grian brings his knees closer so he can hold them. He keeps his focus on xB, who seems to be doing the same in return. “Why did you guys bring me here? And if it’s a prank, tell me it’s not me at least.”

xB, being one of the calmer Hermits around the server and a fairly true-to-his-word pacifist by avoiding conflicts as much as possible, is one tough cookie to try to read.

And that small smile of his immediately wipes out any suspicion clouding Grian’s brain. But no one needs to know he’s a sucker for soft smiles.

“Pinnin’ this all on Pearlock Holmes over there for bein’ curious,” xB starts, easing into putting his legs out in front of him and pressing his back further against the wall. “But in her defense, we were curious ourselves.”

What are they curious about? If it’s my wings being slightly different, I’m blaming it on being an avian thing! Or if they’re about to question why my hair color changed some worlds ago, I.. will also blame it on avian things!

“Curious about..?” Grian gestures for him to keep going. Soft smiles are one thing, but leaving him with no answers and just more questions is a punch in the face!

“You and Tango,” xB finishes.

There we go! An answer! Something he can work with!

Grian releases the breath he’s been holding. “Oh thank Void. It’s about me and..”

Hold on a minute.

“Me and..”

“You and Tango,” Iskall repeats, but Grian doesn’t look at him.

Grian’s looking at his knees. “What about us?”

False chimes in, “We’re not here to make silly assumptions or anything. We just wanted to know if-”

And in comes Pearl with a taste of reality. “Did you give Tango a hickey?”

If there’s a word for looking guilty even though one is innocent, that feeling’s written all over Grian’s face. He spreads his wings and shuffles his legs even closer, hiding behind his feathers.

“It’s okay if you did and he was okay with that,” Iskall tells him. “Like Falsie said, no assumptions and no judgements. No one here’s going to think of either of you any less, and I mean that for all Hermits.”

“Why-” His voice pitches high, a nasty sound that pinches his ears. He’s not upset and he’s not pissed at the accusation, or whatever this is. It’s nothing personal against any of them or Tango either! Then Grian tries again, “Why do you think.. that I gave him a.. gave him that?”

“Because both of you thought it’d be funny to freak us all out as a little ha-ha prank?”

The way Pearl phrased it pulls a surprised laugh from the colorful avian. “Wow.. Okay, I..”

A startled chortle shoots out of him when someone starts petting one of his wings. It’s more of an I-didn’t-expect-that noise than a I’m-gonna-fight type.

Pearl’s talking now. “You don’t have to tell us anything if it’s too personal or you just don’t want to,” she says. “Just because I’m curious doesn’t mean you owe me or any of us private stuff.”

“Well,” Grian manages not to make a weird, disgusting noise this time. Thank the Void for having some mercy on me. He moves his wings away from his face, noting it’s xB gently smoothing his feathers on one wing while Pearl’s petting his other. “I didn’t do.. that to him. I’m not that forward.”

“Okay Ariana Griande,” he hears Iskall huff, getting a stifled laugh from Pearl.

Grian shoots both of them a look that only gets laughs and giggles in response, which is honestly better than realizing he’s been trapped in some prank or horribly one-sided war.

“Can I ask why you’re even asking that?”

False blinks at him. “Didn’t you know he has a hickey?”

Grian snorts. “Well yeah, but I just assumed who it was and moved on.” He narrows his eyes with a playful glint. “And I didn’t kidnap anyone from their bases or splash blinding potions at them.”

“Who do you think it was?” the other avian questions.

“So at first, I thought Bdubs-”

Iskall’s giving him one of those looks he’s seen on mostly the redstoners whenever someone out-of-touch with redstone tries to even guess what in the world a repeater does. “Really? You thought of him?”

“Thought of it like a vengeful bite, you know?” Grian tries to reason. “Tango pokes fun at him for being small, so I thought, ah yes it’s a bite of pure revenge.”

“And when you realized that wasn’t it,” Pearl says. “What’d you think next?”

Grian holds up two fingers. It’s mostly so he remembers which thought process he’s riding with. Thoughts are hard, sue him! “Doc.”

False nods in quiet agreement. “That one I get.”

Pearl and Iskall look between them, absolutely lost in whatever understood unspoken words there are with them.

“Because he has sharp teeth?”

Now they’re all shooting confused glances towards xB, who blinks back.

“What?”

“How do you know he has sharp teeth?” Pearl asks.

xB rolls up his jacket sleeve up until it’s just behind his shoulder, revealing a bruise right there that seems to be healing. Or it’s done healing. “I asked how hard he bites, so he gave me this. Y’all think it’s a good souvenir?”

“More like a permanent accessory or skin thing,” Pearl says, shuddering at the sight.

Iskall looks at Grian. “Still think it’s Doc?”

Grian shakes his head. While he misses the soft touches on his feathers, he doesn’t comment on it. That’s something he doesn’t mind being a little patient for. “Betting Cleo now. She’s the boldest Hermit I know, and terrifying in her own right.”

Four diamonds appear in the ex-Gladiator’s hand. “How much are you willing to bet?”

“Eight diamonds that it’s Cleo,” Grian bets, taking out his own to show what he has to offer.

“Five it’s not,” Iskall claims, his offer in one hand. He glances at the others. “Anyone else want a chance?”

“Thirteen diamonds and I’ll toss a pretty shulker box in there,” Pearl joins in, placing one shulker box and holding an armful of diamonds to prove her bet. “I’m betting it’s not her. And I’m willing to further bet on a specific Hermit if anyone wants to wager high.”

“Wager high?” False repeats, laughing nervously. “You’re already betting thirteen of your diamonds and a shulker box. Isn’t that pretty high?”

Pearl shoots her an almost apologetic look. Knowing her, it’s probably half-apologetic. “Oh you poor, sweet bird.” She eyes xB. “You wanna?”

xB glances between the three betters before placing his ender chest and taking his time to scoop out fifteen diamonds. “How about fifteen diamonds?”

“Who do you bet it is then?” Pearl hums, grinning at how far up the offers are going. “I’m betting on it being Wels.”

“Wels-” Grian stifles whatever Void-forsaken noise that was about to be. He clears his throat and goes again. “Love him like a brother, but really? Why?”

“Nobody would ever see it coming!” She defends herself. “What about you, peckers? Still wanna bet on Cleo?”

Grian feels his brain give up. His previous guesses were jokes more than anything, because who would even think about things like this to this level of seriousness? He has diamonds on the line here, but he also isn’t sure.

“Bawk bawk!”

He shoots a glare at Iskall, whose arms quickly leave the wing shapes they were in. Then he looks back at Pearl. “Etho. My final bet’s on Etho.”

Shoving her diamonds away into her inventory, Pearl holds both hands out, one for Iskall and the other for Grian to shake. “It’s a bet then!” She looks at xB. “You got someone?”

xB moves closer so he’s part of the betting square, which technically includes False as a supportive spectator. “Bettin’ Beef.”

“Beef, huh?” Pearl considers the thought before nodding. “That’s a tough bet right there. Now, are we all good with a friendly handshake to kick things off?”

Murmurs of agreement spread around the little group along with False’s cheers for all of them to hopefully win.

And after the handshake’s over with, Grian stands up, accidentally whacking Iskall and Pearl with his wings, and picks away the cobblestone. He tries not to pout when Iskall stands up so he doesn’t fall backwards.

“Any rules or anything to this bet thing?” Grian asks, because of course he will.

“No changing your bets, even wagers, and no trying to create any fake evidence that’ll help you win!” Pearl pauses. “.. Other than that, have a blast before I win and get all your diamonds!” The last bit’s said quicker as she vanishes down the stairs, False and Iskall running behind.

Grian catches xB’s questioning gaze and shrugs. “Hermits, man. We’re weird.”

xB laughs. “Yeah. We are weird.”

Chapter Text

Gem has been looking through three of her chests for a batch of bottled tea she meant to pass around for her friends. So far, all she’s found are saplings, apples, leaves, one half-eaten leaf that a caterpillar left her once, and backup materials in one of the chests.

No tea in sight.

“Gem?” she hears someone yell, making her turn and abandon her search mission for the moment. She doesn’t say anything until realizing someone’s knocking at her door, so she goes closer, trying to keep herself quiet when she does. “Gem, can I talk with you for a second!?”

“Who’s there?” Gem asks, standing to the side of the door. In her defense, her mind’s clouded in other thoughts, and she’s still trying to match a name to a face to a voice to an.. everything.

Three more hard knocks before she gets an answer. “It’s Cleo!”

She lets out a sigh of relief, thankful it’s someone she’s a little more familiar with. When she opens the door, ready to greet her undead friend, her eyes widen at what she sees instead.

“Holy-”

“Can we come in?”

Gem blinks a few times before awkwardly moving out of the way to hold the door open for her, closing it when she’s inside. “How-” She chews her lip. “... What happened? ”

────────────────────────

“So you found him in the Nether,” Gem concludes, looking like she’s still trying to process all of it. Cleo can’t blame her.

“Yep,” Cleo nods.

“And he was shivering like he is now.”

While she knows it’s rhetorical and not a question, Cleo nods again. “Also yep.”

Gem sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why in the world was he even there if he can’t take the temperature? He should’ve worn fluffy sweaters or something.”

Cleo shrugs and shakes her head. Beats me. “No idea. I haven’t gotten to ask him or anything since he’s.. You know.”

“My friends are dumb sometimes,” Gem says, and Cleo heavily agrees. She watches the elven deer rise from Zedaph’s side, moving past Cleo into what she thinks is a nicely designed kitchen. “I’m going to make a batch of tea that I couldn’t find earlier, and that should warm him up.”

“Do you have, like, a blanket for him?” Cleo asks, looking at her friend’s shivering body before getting up and poking her head into the kitchen. “Or something to warm him up while you make tea?”

She has no idea how Gem makes her tea, and watching her trot around from one shelf to a counter makes her head spin. She just knows it takes a lot of effort and, knowing how Gem feels when she puts herself in her work, loads of energy.

Cleo will praise her for that after they wake their friend up with something warm.

“Not on me or my base, no,” is the answer she gets. “Beef does though! He owes me a little bit after the multi-tree package I made for him a while back.”

Multi-tree package. Cleo smiles at her friend, even if she can’t see it, and she has to look around to find the exit. “So I’ll go grab a blanket or two from him. Is it at his wool shop or?”

“Wool shop!” Gem supplies helpfully. Cleo glances at Zedaph, sighing in relief when she realizes the noise isn’t waking him. Well, partial relief. “It’ll be in a barrel with my name on it, I think. That’s what he told me, but he might’ve moved it.”

“I’ll go check out his shop then.” Cleo raises her arms above her head, one grabbing the other, and she lightly pulls until she hears a snap . It sends a tingling feeling through her body and is pretty much as close to feeling energetic as she can get. “Message me if he wakes, ‘kay?”

“You got it!”

────────────────────────

Cleo had to stop moving on occasion to keep herself from dropping face-first in the dirt. It’s one of those ‘perks’ of being undead; if she moves fast enough, one of her legs or feet decide to take a break and stay behind.

But she gets to Three Bags Full like she told Gem she would. All she needs to do now is look for a barrel with any indication it’s for her friend, maybe something like ‘favor’ or ‘request’ or even Gem’s head on a frame.

She’s not the only one shopping there, though.

“Hey xB,” she waves to the other as she comes forward. Her eyes are on the barrels, but all of them look normal with a wool block on each frame. “You seen Beef anywhere?”

xB shakes his head. “Haven’t seen him. Why?”

Cleo looks at him now, sighing. “Gem said he has a blanket for her, and I came to get it.”

“A blanket?” xB repeats. “Can’t you just find a sheep?”

Cleo snorts. “Yeah, well, we’ve got a knocked-out-and-freezing one back at her base already. But he’s not the kind of sheep we need.”

“You mean Zedaph, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

“What happened?”

“I went to the Nether to check out the Hub, totally recommend it by the way, and I found him near there like a puppy left in the rain.”

All xB does is nod and he starts speed-walking, so Cleo follows. The blanket barrel or chest’s not in the shop from what she can tell, and she already double-checked each barrel of wool just in case.

“Where are you going?”

“I have blankets on me,” he tells her.

Cleo blinks. “You-” She quickens her pace, huffing. She can complain about him being surprisingly fast later. “You have blankets? Just, just on you?”

“I mean, they’re in a shulker,” xB corrects himself with a little shrug. “False’s fault, really. She had a time where she craved a nest, bird reasons, so she took all the Hermits’ blankets.”

“And how did you end up with them?”

“When she wasn’t all nesty-nesty, I dropped diamonds to buy them all.” xB sends a mischievous, playful glance towards Cleo. His voice is softer when he says, “Gave some back to her after findin’ out her base is somewhere cold. No Hermit freezes on my watch, y’all should know that.”

If Cleo squints past how he just has everyone’s blankets now, minus the ones he returned to False ( even if she’s also not the owner of them ), she might think xB’s more balanced with morals than she thought.

She almost forgot where they were going until she sees Gem’s house and its litter of birch trees surrounding it. She reminds herself to ask for flowers to patch some of her rotten skin later, following xB up to the door and into the little cottage home.

“Hey Gem?” Cleo calls. She bites back a curse when Gem’s already in her sight, kneeling by Zedaph with two bottles of tea. “Fff.. How is he?”

“Cold,” Gem chuckles half-heartedly. She looks up when xB steps forward with a shulker box in his hands. “Oh- Hi, xB!”

xB dips his head to return the greeting and places the shulker down by her, taking out five blankets from the box. Three pink ones and two yellow blankets. He stacks two on the sheep’s body, tucking them in a way for them to be wrapped around him, and then he wraps Zedaph in the next three.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Gem thanks him with a smile before standing with both of the tea bottles. She walks over to Cleo, who hasn’t moved from the doorway. “Didn’t find anything at Beef’s?”

Cleo shakes her head. “Just lots and lots of wool. No blankets.”

“I’ll talk to him about it later,” she says. “Thanks for trying though.”

Cleo bumps her shoulder with hers, chuckling. “Always good to help a Hermit out, Gem.” She leans in with an arm around her friend, whispering, “Even if they’re idiots.”

Gem stifles her laughter behind a hand, and Cleo casually takes this chance to swipe away one of her bottles.

“How do you make these anyway?” she asks. She reminds herself not to turn it certain angles since it’s open, moreso giving it a bit of a jiggle for the tea inside to swish around the glass.

“Love and patience,” Gem answers, smiling. She leans against the zombie’s side, and Cleo just watches her in awe. It doesn’t help when Gem looks up at her, absolutely glowing. “I can teach you to make some, if you want. After sleepy-head over there feels better.”

Cleo may not be able to feel blood rise to her cheeks anymore, mostly in a constant state of rotten-cold, but something about her friend’s passionate spirit fills her with warmth. And that’s more than enough for her.

“Fuck yeah,” she whispers, grinning when she gets Gem to laugh again.

“Not to ruin your moment, y’all,” xB pipes up, standing. “But he’s awake.”

Cleo takes her arm off her friend to let her sit by Zedaph’s side, and she follows suit, kneeling by them.

“Hi, Zedaph,” Gem speaks softly, setting a bottle down and gently pressing the other into the woken sheep’s hands. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Zedaph still looks out-of-it, but no one says anything. He slowly rubs the side of his head and gives a quiet thanks as he takes the tea bottle, tipping his head back when he drinks.

Blankets and tea are key in keeping a freezing Hermit from getting sent to Spawn. Noted.

“Take your time,” Cleo reassures him. She’s taken care of baby zombies plenty of times, but a full-grown sheep freezing to near-death isn’t the same as one of those thieves getting caught on fire or forgetting they can’t swim.

She probably shouldn’t be thinking about that right now either.

Zedaph finishes half of the bottle before he tips his head forehead, passing the bottle back to Gem and gripping the blankets around him. Cleo can almost pinpoint the second he realizes what’s on him. His eyebrows pinch and his nose scrunches, but he huddles his body closer under the blankets anyway.

xB pipes up, lowering his voice to match the others’. “Do you remember anythin’ before you passed out?”

“I- I was in the Nether,” Zedaph mumbles. He coughs into his arm and clears his throat. It sounds hoarse, and Cleo’s sure it’s obvious when Gem passes him back the bottle of tea. He thanks her again and downs the rest of it, hands the bottle back, and he clears his throat for the second time.

“Without fluffy sweaters,” Gem comments, clicking her tongue as she sets the bottles away into her inventory. She’s putting on the I’m-disappointed-but-I-still-love-you voice.

“What were you doing there anyway?” Cleo questions him, crossing her arms. She’s not trying to turn this into an interrogation, but answers would be nice. She’ll even offer to go Nether digging if that’s what he was trying to do. “I don’t mind going and-”

“I went there for Tango.”

Cleo stands up and is about to head right out the door, both hands clenched. But Gem holds her back and she feels herself only returning to sit by her friends.

But it doesn’t make her feel better. “He fucking made you go there knowing you won’t survive? What a dick!”

“Wh- What?!” Zedaph stares at her with wide eyes. “He- No, Cleo, he-”

“You can say no to anything you don’t wanna do, Zedaph,” Gem reminds him, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “Even friends can push each other over comfort zones they’re not ready to leave yet.”

“He wasn’t-” Zedaph shakes his head. “I chose to go there!”

“You don’t have to cover for him,” Cleo huffs.

When he narrows his eyes at her, it sends an indescribable tingle through her bones. “I’m not covering anything. I- I went to see him. By choice.”

Gem frowns. “But why didn’t you bring something to keep you toasty?”

“It was meant to be fast!” Zedaph tenses and he tilts his head up, scrunching his nose.

Cleo moves back, grabbing Gem’s shoulder to hold her back too. “Is he gonna throw up?”

xB, sitting on the other side of Zedaph, moves away as well.

And then a sneeze shoots out of the sheep, followed by a groan as he grips the blankets tighter.

“He is sick,” Gem says, shaking her head slowly. “And as much as I love you, Zedaph, I don’t want you getting my plants and trees sick.”

“I’m not sick,” he insists, only to sneeze two more times. He refuses to meet any of their eyes, opting to glare at the floor. “That was a coincidence.”

Before anyone can suggest anything, xB speaks up, “My base is a no-go too, y’all. Nothin’ personal, but I won’t be ‘round enough to take care of him.”

While it would’ve been ideal to take their friend under her wing for however long, Cleo knows it’s not a good idea when she knows her schedule’s packed. “I can’t either. Too many things I’m working on both off-world and here, and I’m definitely not having a sick science sheep in my house alone.”

Just as soon as Zedaph goes to stand up, he just stumbles and lands down with a groan. “I’ll stay with Tango.”

“No,” Gem flicks his forehead and he huffs at her. “You need to be taken care of right now until you’re better.” She pauses, thinking, then she looks at Cleo and xB. “One of you privately message Impulse, please.”

Cleo glances at xB, who has his communicator out and is already typing. Then she looks at Zedaph. “You’re gonna get better, okay? No trying to stubbornly wander around the server when you’re sick.”

“I already told you I’m not-”

He sneezes.

Cleo raises an eyebrow. “You’re not what?” she teases.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. His voice’s muffled with the blankets covering almost all of him now.

xB looks up from his comm with a thumbs up. “Impyre’s free to take him in.”

“Up we go!” Gem hums. She doesn’t wait for anyone to say something as she lifts Zedaph onto her back, taking her time to stand back up.

Cleo thinks she hears the sheep grumble something, but she can’t tell.

“Are we all going?” xB asks. He’s already following Gem out of her house with Cleo right behind.

“Yep! Just in case this guy tries to hop off or anything,” Gem jokes. If only she could see the mock-offended look Zedaph’s giving her for it. “To the Impyre we go!”

Chapter Text

“Tango?” Zedaph calls out, looking around the Nether for his friend. He yelps when a piglin charges at him, tilting his head and hoping his horns hit them away.

When he looks up, blinking, the piglin has a fresh wound and pinkish liquid pooling down their arm. They’re snorting and squealing in what he can only guess is pain, making him feel guilty, even if it was on instinct to defend himself.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, too quiet for them to hear. He goes to step forward and check out the wound, but the piglin swats at him, squealing louder. He glances around in case they’re calling their horde, sighing when no one seems to be rushing their way. “Can I help you?” he asks this time, keeping his distance.

The piglin shakes their head, snorts, flicks their tail and turns to start speed-walking the other way.

That’s when he’s able to pick up Tango’s voice.

“Tango,” he breathes out. He falls quiet as he starts to walk, listening for his friend’s voice in the distance. It’s not too far.

He hears another voice. This one’s a little more distant, but he assumes they must be close enough for him to pick up on both.

He can’t pick up on any key words, so he keeps quiet as he listens, walking while he follows where he thinks the voices are coming from.

It’s not long before they become a little clearer. He’s almost by the Nether Hub tree now, and Zedaph thinks he sees two silhouettes at the base of it.

“Some people don’t know how to express being uncomfortable either.”

Zedaph’s ear flicks. He makes sure to step lightly as he moves forward, taking advantage of hiding behind some netherrack blocks that are stacked around.

He’s not sure who the other voice is, can’t even see the silhouettes either. But he does recognize Tango’s voice.

“Like who, Jevin?”

That solves the age-old mystery, doesn’t it? But what are they talking about?

No, no. This isn’t his business. This is eavesdropping, Zedaph. He reminds himself, shaking his head. He’s about to turn and make himself comfortable somewhere to wait for them to finish up, but he feels a chill up his everywhere.

He’s been cold before. And besides, he’s certain they’ll be ending their conversation soon so they can talk, so he has to just keep moving and keep his body warm until then!

He turns tail and starts walking off in a random direction. He knows where the Astral Tree is if he wants to go back to it, and he also has comms with him if he needs to message someone.

So when he feels his knees buckle and go slack under him, Zedaph thinks he’ll just rest for a small minute or two and closes his eyes.

────────────────────────

Now he’s sitting in the Impyre.

Cleo told him in private that she cleaned blood off his horns when she found him, which he didn’t bother to question when he remembered why.

He’s still wrapped in five blankets, covered all over albeit his face, and the trio of overly generous Hermits helped bring him to a bed.

And while he’d love to sleep this situation away, Impulse has him busy talking his ears off.

“You went to the Nether with basically nothing to keep you from freezing to death, you didn’t even think to bring food to hold your hunger up, you didn’t even think you’d freeze, you could’ve even died there, and..”

Zedaph knows he should be listening, but he tunes out his friend’s rambles and stares at the ceiling. Nothing’s interesting about it, and he can’t make up shapes and pretend to occupy his time with those kinds of things. It’s a pretty high ceiling, but so is the entire Impyre.

“Are you even listening, Zed?”

That snaps his attention back to his friend, whose stern glare and crossed arms are because of him. He tries not to think about it and gives a tiny nod.

Apparently that’s not enough. “You need to start using your head more, man.”

“Sorry,” he whispers, closing his eyes and trying to make himself go to sleep. He knows he deserves to be told off for not being more careful, but he wants to wait until he’s properly healthy again before he takes in that information.

“Sit up.”

His eyes flick open and he glances at Impulse, who’s sitting beside him on the floor with a bowl and spoon in his hands.

“What is-”

“Sit up, Zed.”

Zedaph ignores the feelings his friend’s change in tone is giving him and sits up in the bed. He’s definitely warm, so he brushes off two of the blankets to free himself of overheating.

Except he can’t just ‘brush them off’. He silently curses XB’s gift in blanket-wrapping.

“Do you need help?” Impulse asks, setting the bowl on a bedside table.

He doesn’t actually wait for an answer, not that Zedaph knows what to say anyway, and his hands brush against the other’s waist as he tugs at the top blanket. He peels it off, having Zedaph lean forward for a second, then he folds the blanket and sets it on the edge of the bed. “There you go.”

If anyone says Zedaph’s flushed from brief physical contact, they’re lying. And if they claim he always reacts like this in all the years he’s been with his friends, they’re lying even more.

Zedaph lets go of the breath he’s holding. “Th- Thanks, dude.” He’s too busy trying to reach one coherent thought in his mind to bother shrugging off one more blanket.

It takes him a few seconds to process the fact there’s a spoonful of who-knows-what in front of him. He glances at Impulse, who stares back.

“Open up,” he orders. Zedaph can’t read how his friend’s feeling about this, but he looks somewhere between crossed and.. not-crossed.

And while he’d really, really like to get this over with, Zedaph presses his lips in a line.

“Zed,” Impulse huffs. Is he pissed?  “It’s not gonna hurt you. Swear it.”

Zedaph tugs on the blanket he’s practically piled under, squinting at the spoon. It smells good, but that doesn’t mean it’ll taste good. He’s had his fair share of incidents in the lab to know that. “What is it?”

Impulse looks at the bowl he’s holding. “Literally just soup.”

“I’ll be fine without it.”

Impulse hasn’t moved the spoon away from his mouth yet. Does he not believe him?

While it’s harder to do with blankets wrapped all over him, Zedaph manages to cross his arms. Kind of. “I’m not eating it,” he insists.

Just when Impulse’s about to say something, Zedaph’s ear flicks at the sound of knocking. He’s thankful the room they’re in isn’t close to the door or else his head will be ringing just from how loud it’d be.

“Stay right here,” he says, putting the spoon in the bowl and setting it on the table before he gets up. He spends a moment untucking the blankets around Zedaph, loosening them, and has him lay back down while he goes off to get the door.

Zedaph pushes his head further into the pillow, absolutely relishing how cold and soft it is.

His peace and quiet ends fast when he hears metal clunking down the hall and coming towards his room. If I keep my eyes shut, I’ll be fine. He reasons out, slowly turning so he’s facing away from the open area and door.

He hears Impulse coming down the hall, listening to the door open a second or two after. “-c, I don’t think you should-”

“Zedaph.” It’s Doc’s voice. When Zedaph doesn’t respond, he feels someone shake him gently. Not that it’s not clear who it is. “Zedaph, wake up.”

“Told you he won’t,” he hears Impulse chuckle. “He’s sick and kinda needs to rest, Doc.”

Doc shakes him again, but Zedaph tries to keep himself still. “Your soup will go cold,” he whispers. “Or, alternatively, I’ll just eat it.”

Jokes on you, Doc, I’m not dumb enough to fall for that ol’ trick.

Until he hears obnoxiously loud slurping beside him, Zedaph sits right up and turns his head to glare at Doc.

He’s holding his communicator out, which is playing a slurping noise.

Well fuck.

Zedaph glances at Impulse, who’s staying in the doorway, and he lays back down. He’s still glaring at Doc. “What do you want?”

“Do you have this in a bottle?” Doc asks, completely dismissing the sheep’s question as he gestures to the soup and looks at Impulse. “I’d like to bring some in case I get sick just being here.”

Zedaph tries to plead with his eyes for Impulse not to leave, but the dwarf either doesn’t catch on or doesn’t notice when he nods and leaves down the hall.

“Can I go back to trying to sleep, or do you actually have a reason to be here?” Zedaph huffs, pulling up the blankets to his neck.

“With that attitude, I’ll just have your soup.”

A reminder slips itself in the back of his mind to get back at Doc another time. For now, he sighs and sits back up, slower so he doesn’t get a sudden headrush.

“Gimme,” he mumbles, making grabby hands for the bowl that Doc carefully hands over to him. “I’m only eating because I’m hungry. So get on with it.”

He’s pretty sure it’s normal soup like Impulse said it is, but he’s not convinced. Zedaph chalks it up to just being sick as he starts to shovel some soup in his mouth, being incredibly mindful not to lose a drop on the bed, blankets or floor.

Doc sits beside the bed on his knees. He glances back at the door first, notes Impulse’s still gone, and turns back to Zedaph. “Word around the server says you bit another Hermit,” he whispers.

He makes a sound between a scoff and a snort. The soup tastes better than it looks. And there’s nothing in it but soup! “I bite to show affection. So?”

“I can’t tell you or anyone how to ‘be affectionate’,” Doc continues. “But I can warn you to be careful.”

Zedaph finishes drinking most of the soup, feeling both pleased he’s able to get most of it down and the fact it leaves a hot, satisfied pool in his stomach.

He waits for a moment, testing if he’s able to have more, but ultimately he hands over the bowl. “Impulse already gave me a lecture, thank you.”

Doc clicks his tongue as he takes the bowl and sets it on the table. “At least have decency to cover yourself up. People will get the wrong idea.”

That’s the sentence that has Zedaph stare at him, confused. “I- Excuse me? ”

He follows Doc’s finger tapping the side of his neck. “Your bite.”

My what?

“My-” Zedaph slaps his hand to his neck, feeling around for any weird bumps or dents in his skin. He finds a spot that stings when he brushes over it, so he quickly puts his hand down, wincing. “Fuck.”

Why didn’t Cleo say something? Or Gem, XB?

“It’s up to you, but-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Zedaph interrupts him. “What do you mean ‘people will get the wrong idea’? Wrong idea about what?”

Doc watches him for a couple of seconds too long for Zedaph’s liking before he speaks. “I’m not implying you will be judged. The Hermits and I are not mean like that.” He lowers his voice, “Rumors will spread if you show off things like that, even if it was a one-time thing.”

Impulse had to have noticed it if Doc’s caught on faster than I did.

Zedaph lets out a half-hearted chuckle, trying to process everything he’s just learned. And just as he’s about to thank the Void for not making him seem as sick as he was seconds ago, a startled sneeze escapes him.

“Void.” He grumbles, cursing the world and its Void. Then he looks at Doc, losing some of those frustrated feelings. “What if it’s not a one-time thing, Doc?”

Doc looks at him. “What?”

“What if I want more?” Zedaph asks, indiscreetly gesturing to the bite. “What if I wanna give more? Is that wrong?”

He shouldn’t say he’s surprised when Doc shakes his head. “No, not with consent it’s not.”

“Consent,” Zedaph parrots, thinking. “... Doc, can I ask you something?”

“Please tell me you’re not about to ask what consent is or I’m having Xisuma talk with you.”

Zedaph blinked at him. “Oh- No, no, I’m well-aware, don’t worry! It’s something else. Kind of.”

Doc lets out a sigh of relief and gives him a nod. “Continue then.”

He knows what he wants to ask, but the problem comes with finding the right words he wants to use. A casual question among friends. One he hopes he doesn’t hear himself asking repeatedly to different people.  “Is it okay to love more than one person simultaneously?”

“Yeah.”

That.. was a lot quicker than I anticipated.

“It is?” Zedaph asks, unsure. He’s looking for anything indicating that Doc’s messing with him, pulling his leg or whatever. But all the creeper offers is a genuine, reassuring smile.

“Of course it is,” Doc replies smoothly. “Any kind of love can be shared with any amount of people, Zedaph.” He scratches his cheek, looking elsewhere. “Polyamory is actually the majority of creeper relations.”

Zedaph’s nose delightfully ruins the moment to sneeze, and he groans and lies flat on his back. “What’s polyamory, Doc?” he huffs, trying to keep his nose from needing to sneeze again.

“It’s-”

“Sorry for the wait, guys,” Impulse announces his presence as he comes back into the room with six bottles of soup, the same one he gave Zedaph. “I had to go out and get ingredients because I ran out, then Xisuma messaged me, and Scar hawkeye’d me on my way back.”

“You made six bottles,” Doc points out, eyeing the five extra the dwarf’s carrying. “I just asked for one.”

“You did?” Impulse glances at the bottles before handing one of them to Doc, who gladly shelves it away into his inventory. “Sorry. I’ve just had a lot to think about and must’ve forgotten.”

Doc shakes his head and pats Impulse’s shoulder. “Do not worry over it, Impulse. It’s still soup, and I appreciate your efforts.”

Zedaph feels his fists grip tighter around the blankets when the creeper gives their friend a quick kiss on the forehead.

“I will see you guys later,” he says, like he didn’t just do that. Doc waves at the two of them before disappearing into the hall, his clunking noises wavering until he’s further down and, Zedaph assumes, out of the Impyre.

“He should’ve asked to do that,” Zedaph can’t help his complaint, glaring at the doorway where Doc disappeared off to.

Impulse sits by him on the floor, sealing away four of the soup bottles. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He gives Zedaph an unamused expression before shaking his head. “He did ask, but thank you for-”

“Why?”

Impulse lightly swirls the remaining soup in the bowl before meeting Zedaph’s eyes, blinking. “Why?” he repeats.

“Why does he..” Zedaph waves his hands in the air as if it’ll be clearer that way. “You know, kiss you?”

“Because friends kiss sometimes?”

Zedaph stares at him. Impulse stares back.

His friend coughs a bit, covering his mouth. “Zed, I-”

“Friends can kiss each other?” is what rolls out of Zedaph’s mouth, trying to make sense of any of his thoughts in the moment. Enough sense to use any as words at the very least. “Like, that’s- that’s okay?”

“If whoever’s getting kissed is okay with that, yeah?” Impulse shrugs, moving to sit up on his knees with a soup bottle in one hand. “Sit up for me, please?”

Zedaph does as he’s told, eyes flicking between the bottle and his friend. Friends can kiss each other. Why am I just now learning this??

Before he can think twice about it, he says, “Can I kiss-”

Impulse doesn’t let him finish. He has one hand holding the back of Zedaph’s head, lightly tugging at his hair to hold him up, and he’s using his other hand to pour half of the bottled soup into his mouth.

When it hits halfway, Impulse’s hands are off of him and he gently sets the bottle on the table with the bowl, scooping it up.

Zedaph feels the same pool of warmth sit in his stomach when he swallows the liquid, practically feeling it swirl around inside him. It isn’t the same one he gets from the soup or Gem’s tea.

And he doesn’t get a second to process it when Impulse’s already in the doorway with the bowl of unfinished soup, glancing over his shoulder at the sick sheep. “You can sleep now if you want. I’ll clean this up, then I’ll be right back. Oh! You can also have the rest of that bottle if you want, it’s yours until you’re better.”

Zedaph mumbles something he can’t even decipher himself. He watches his friend’s silhouette pass the door into the hall, blinking dumbly as he lays down.

If anyone comments on the blood rushing to his cheeks, he’s blaming it on being sick.

Chapter Text

“I don’t know where I went wrong.”

False has seen her fair share of pranks-gone-wrong. She’s been the planner, the prankster, the prankee, and even the totally innocent witness. Never has she been someone’s emotional support after a revenge plan gone wrong though.

But the world has a first for everything, doesn’t it?

At this second, she’s rubbing the best of soothing circles she can onto Tango’s back while Scar threads his fingers over the Netherborn’s scalp. If they knew Tango could purr, she’s pretty sure Scar would’ve done this eons ago.

“So if I’m reading the situation right…” False counts back to the first thing Tango told them. “Zedaph gave you a confession book that you showed Ren, who told you it’s probably a game of chicken. Then you and Zed have a moment in the Nether, and Keralis comes with Impulse to ask how you feel about him. Is that all?”

Tango, whose voice is occupied letting out relaxed purrs under his friends’ touches, barely shakes his head.

With Scar sitting closer to Tango, it gives Jellie enough room to lean forward and lap at his cheek.

Scar clicks his tongue. He smooths some of Tango’s hair away from his eyes, clearly enjoying how it’s not on fire and how soft it is. “Falsie, you forgot the part about him upsetting Jevin.”

False stares at him, pausing all massaging until the cogs in her brain tighten a little. She nods and goes back to what she’s doing, pressing her thumbs against Tango’s back muscles near his shoulders. “True. And the most recent thing is now our friend here thinks Zed’s playing with other guys.”

“A player,” Scar supplies, sharing a look with Jellie. One that False knows better than to question. “Tango, how are you feeling, dear?”

“M’kay,” Tango whispers. His eyes glance over at Scar’s ring. “Whas’at?”

False looks over, relieved the head massage isn’t giving him a pounding headache like she thought it would. She waits a few seconds for Scar, who stays quiet a few more seconds before realizing.

“Oh!” There he goes. Scar chuckles and moves his hands to his lap, where Jellie easily steals for herself to get back rubs. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

Lifting his head, he lays it on his arms, right on the armchair so he has a better look at the duo. “That,” he points at the ring. “I don’t think I asked about it before.”

Scar makes an ‘o’ shape with his mouth as he looks at it. “A binding ring. Cub has his own.”

False gives Tango one or two more massages before angling her wings to sit on either side of him, helping him sit up. “It’s like a marriage thing, I think,” she says, looking at Scar for confirmation.

Scar nods and smiles. “Since we can’t get married, we have these rings as our way of saying our bond is too strong to break.” He taps the ring. “While it’s not obsidian, it is fire-resistant.”

“What’s it made of?” False asks. She doesn’t remember if she’s learned about the story of their rings before, but at least she’s learning now.

“I..” Scar rubs his neck. “Okay, so maybe I have no idea.”

“No idea?” False repeats. She laughs light-heartedly, looking away only to glance back at her friend’s pout. “Did he surprise you and you just never had time to ask?”

Scar quickly nods. “Yeah!” He glances between her and Tango, whose hair is lit up like it was before his massages. “For someone who used to hate surprises, this was the best thing anyone’s done for me.”

Jellie mewls and rubs her head under Scar’s palm, refusing to get up from her position across his lap.

“You’re my favorite too, Jellie-belly,” Scar coos to her, gently scratching under her chin and smoothing out her head fur with his other hand. He chuckles when the feline mewls again.

Tango, who seems to be lost in his own world, comes back to reality and looks from the ring to Scar. “Why can’t you guys get married?”

“For a Vex to marry, we need our Evoker to marry us off to whoever we’re dying to marry.” Scar frowns, but it slips into a half-smile when Jellie rolls onto her back, letting him give her gentle stomach rubs. “Cub knows that, by the way. And we’re okay not being married.”

Seemingly satisfied with that, Tango moves to an old-but-fresh topic, turning to face False.

She shuts him up before he can start. “You can make up to Jevin before anything else, okay?” She sighs when he nods, thankful it’s not up for debate. “What else are you wanting to do? After that, I mean.”

“I wanna know if Zed and I have something!” Tango answers. Even the flames on his tail and head rise ever-so slightly with his voice. “I wanna know if I’m just an experiment or not.”

“Can’t you talk to him?” Scar suggests, glancing between him and False.

“Scar’s got a point, Tango,” False adds, standing up and pulling Tango up with her. She puts her hands on his shoulders, waiting for him to focus. “I can’t speak for Zedaph, but what I can say is you’re more to him, to all of us, than some experiment. You’re a Hermit. And Hermits will always mean something to someone.”

Jellie leaps from Scar’s lap onto the couch, easily curling up on Tango’s previous spot, plopping her tail close to her body.

Scar huffs and pouts at her leaving him, but he smiles just as easily looking at his friends. “Go be besties with Jevin again, and have some talks with that sheep!”

False pats her friend’s shoulder before ushering him out of her base. “If you need anything, even a massage, Scar and I are just a message away.”

“Thanks guys,” Tango tells them with a nod, then he manages to slide somewhat carefully down the snowy mountain.

Closing her door with a sigh, False shakes out her wings before returning to Scar and Jellie, sitting down. “I can’t believe you told Zedaph to bite them, Scar.”

Scar clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “In my defense, he’s the one who said he’d rather do that. I just asked if he’s gonna do that to them.”

False snorts at that. “Uh huh. But he only bit Tango, not Impulse.”

Scar shakes his head again. “He’s sick, Falsie. He can’t just go all Dracula on the guy taking care of him.”

“Wait, he’s at Impulse’s?” False blinks. “He’s also sick? How’d that even happen?”

“Something about the Nether and.. I guess it’s cold for him? I don’t really know.”

“And he’s being watched by one of the people he’s into.”

“Yep.”

“Man, that’s gonna be a ride.”

────────────────────────

If Joe had a diamond dedicated to every single time someone’s come up to him because they’re comfortable enough to tell them how shitty they’re feeling, he’d have two diamonds.

It’s not a lot, but is anyone really surprised it happened more than once? He sure isn’t.

“You’re omnipotent and everything, aren’t you?” Jevin asks, crossing his arms.

Joe lost interest in the conversation an hour ago. He’s been walking through the castle halls, barely showing interest in some of the paintings Jevin tried to show off to him. It’s not his fault the slime’s insistent on following him.

He’s pretty sure they’re at the highest level now, other than the roof. He looks out one of the windows. It’s different not being up close and personal to the grass, where he could pinch a block between two fingers like it’s nothing.

Then he realizes Jevin’s staring at him. Joe raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Are you or are you not omnipotent, Joe?”

“That implies I can do whatever I want whenever,” Joe clarifies. “Which I can, any of us can, but I know you really mean if I’m omniscient .”

Jevin frowns. “What’s the difference?”

“I gave up my omnipotence when I dropped here.” Joe leans closer to the window and exhales, fogging up half of it so he can make a squiggly smiley face on it. He smiles back. “So I’m just omniscient now. That means I know everythin’.”

“No one knows every-”

Joe looks at him. “You said Tango got pissed at you for underestimatin’ how good he is at defendin’ his boundaries. Right?”

Jevin nods.

“Did you ever tell me about his sheep-bite or how awkward it was when Impulse asked if you’re into him? Or am I just omniscient?”

He takes it as a win when Jevin doesn’t respond for a few seconds. And when he does, the slime looking away with a look like that is satisfying enough. “He asked how I felt , not if I was into him,” he groans, rubbing his hands against his face.

Joe shrugs and looks out the window, the spot he didn’t fog up to make a smiley face. “Why ask if I’m omniscient anyway?”

“I want to know if Tango and I work things out.”

“And you think I’m goin’ to spoil the fun?”

Jevin lets out a huff. “Yeah, I do.”

Joe shakes his head. He wipes away the smiley face and cleans the fog off of the window. “All I’m gonna tell you is go talk to him. I’m not in your business, and I don’t wanna be in it either.” He looks over his shoulder at Jevin, raising an eyebrow at him. “If you care ‘bout him as much as you say you do, then you shouldn’t still be standin’ here starin’ at me.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Jevin says.

“I know you aren’t. Omniscience, remember?” Joe retorts, already turning to glance down both sides of the hallway. He can’t see any stairs one way or another, but he knows there’s no need. He faces the window, curls his fist with his thumb tucked, rears his arm back and feels a stinging sensation two seconds after.

Jevin ignores his friend’s reassurances that he’s fine and doesn’t need help, coming to said friend’s side and grabbing his hands, figuring out which one he roughed up.

“I can heal myself,” Joe insists. He looks from the broken glass and his blood, oh how he forgot that’s a thing he has, and his friend. The friend in question is focused on securing bandages over Joe’s knuckles and against his palm, making him wince. “Jevin.”

Jevin meets his eyes when he holds away the bundle of bandages, tearing off the extra piece and firmly wrapping the end of it around the back of Joe’s hand. He double-checks with a couple of pat-downs to make sure it doesn’t all just come off. “I don’t want to bring a bloody-hand god to Tango’s and have to explain to him you punched my window to get out.”

Joe holds up the hand that’s been bandaged, examining it for himself. It has bits of blue slime sticking to some of it, but it’s not rubbing the bandages off, so he doesn’t mind. “Won’t he just question why my hand’s all wrapped up though?”

“..Probably?” Jevin walks past him and, by the time Joe turns back to him a moment later, any evidence of broken glass has vanished. Even the window looks good as new. “Just tell him you punched a zombie.”

“Unless I was fightin’ Cleo, there’s no other zombies that’d hurt me like this.” Joe pauses, thinking. “And I’m certain he’s not gonna believe I’m dumb enough to use fists to fight a zombie when I have tools.”

“Say you died and punched a zombie or whatever getting your things back,” Jevin shrugs, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets. “Aren’t gods supposed to be good liars?”

“Only when we’re sellin’ fish to villagers,” Joe answers casually, waving a hand to dismiss the question. “Are we goin’ to Tango’s or not?”

“Yeah, the stairs are right over-”

Joe doesn’t wait and breaks the window again, this time with a shield and he’s using his foot, then he jumps out.

“JOE!”

Letting the mechanical wings carry him through the wind, Joe waves as he passes the broken window, absolutely enjoying himself.

Chapter Text

<You whisper to Stressmonster101> Still sick, help please?? <3

<You whisper to Etho> Sick at Impulse’s base, wanna hang?? <3

<You whisper to Keralis1> Impulse left me in his base, come over please? <3

<You whisper to cubfan135> Sick, Impulse’s base, come? <3

That’s the message that has four other Hermits in the room Zedaph’s been sulking in.

Impulse left him to ‘do something with Xisuma’, probably has something to do with the Admin messaging him earlier, and said he’d come back later. So that means Zedaph has the whole Impyre for himself, which he is not about to waste being stuck in bed!

So, of course, he’s called in reinforcements. He may be a scientist with loads of confidence, but all good scientists accept help! No matter how stubborn they are!

Stress has brought bottles of tea she and Gem made together, sharing one with all of them. Etho brought himself, Keralis brought a book for some reason, and Cub helped take off one of the blankets from Zedaph’s body.

That leaves him with three blankets, two pink and one yellow, still wrapped around him.

There’s an awkward silence before Cub breaks it, eyeing the others and setting his gaze on Zedaph. “So. When are you confessing already?”

Somehow that gets the rest to chime in.

“Cub!”

“You can’t just ask that.”

“I’m kinda curious too.”

“Etho!”

“What?”

Zedaph just blinks, looking from one friend to the next before settling on the half-finished bottle of soup on the bedside table. It’s the third one he’s had since he’s been sick, mostly because Impulse insists it’ll make him feel better and because Zedaph keeps refusing to have anything Impulse tries cooking for him.

Not that he hates his cooking, oh dear no. He’s just not exactly prepared for the implications of something so domestic.

“Confessing?” he repeats, tilting his head as if it’s a new word to him. Playing dumb is all I’ve got.

“Oh sweet face,” Keralis pouts, flipping his book open to some page before showing it to Zedaph, staying by the wall where the others are hanging around.

He knows his own handwriting anywhere.

Zedaph sits up and stumbles getting out of bed, only for Stress and Etho to go on either side of him and hoist him up, one arm around both. His attention, however, is solely on the book and Keralis. “Why do you have that? It’s not yours.”

Keralis shuts the book and holds it against his chest, as if Zedaph’s in any shape to lunge at him for it. Which, if he tries, he might be able to whack it out of the other’s hands. “Impulse went to everyone asking how they feel about him because of this book you gave him, Zedaph,” he explains slowly. “He skipped you because he doesn’t think this is yours. He thinks you’re covering for another person.”

He thinks I’m covering for someone else?  Zedaph doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t doubt Keralis, and this is a pretty silly thing to lie about, but it just doesn’t sound right. He waves away Etho and Stress, catching them exchanging a look before returning to the wall, and he slowly walks towards Keralis one foot at a time.

“Are you sure?” He’s going to have to talk with Impulse when he gets back, isn’t he? He’s not sure he can handle a conversation like that. Zedaph makes a grabby hand for the book, frowning as he studies how it looks. “It has burns on it.”

“He threw it in a fire,” Keralis wears a frown himself, holding the book closer to himself. “I didn’t know he saved it until Shashwammy found it.”

Zedaph shuts his eyes and takes a steady step back, shaking his head. His hands are sweating, which he blames on the blankets and soup, so he clamps them onto whatever part of the blankets he can reach easiest.

Xisuma knows?  He wonders, falling silent. He doesn’t think Impulse’s doing something he shouldn’t, does he?

“You don’t have to share if you don’t feel like it,” Etho reassures.

Zedaph’s danced around the topic before, especially in his own head. He’s not sure which one’s worse; admitting it aloud and tasting their names on his tongue, names tied to feelings he doesn’t understand completely, or playing dodgeball with doubtful thoughts claiming this is all a waste of time.

All he knows is he’s certain how he feels, and he wouldn’t trade them for any amount of diamonds the Void wants to offer.

“I fucking love them.”

He feels his jaw clench after the words come out. It’s honest, raw and true, and he opens his eyes to see the looks of judgment for himself.

A shaky sigh and a sneeze leave him, startling himself. It’s just as startling to realize the other Hermits aren’t looking at him with pity or judgment; concern, maybe, but not the two other feelings.

They’re your friends and family, idiot. He reminds himself. Of course they won’t judge you. You’re all a mess for nothing.

“Figures,” Cub says.

Stress elbows him. When she looks at Zedaph, she simply smiles. “I’m happy you trust us enough to tell us that, Zed.”

“I had my suspicions..” Keralis admits. “But I didn’t want to assume.”

Etho sighs. “And here I thought it’s just a casual sex thing.”

Zedaph’s ear flicks. “A casual what?”

Stress answers before Etho can, “Don’t worry about it! You called us here to spend time together, soooo we should do something before Impulse comes back!”

“Do you..?” Keralis doesn’t need to finish, holding the book out.

Zedaph shakes his head and moves back, immediately supported by Etho grabbing his shoulders to hold him up when he nearly tripped. “I don’t wanna get you guys sick.”

Cub raises his hand, drawing all eyes to him. “I have a safe, fun idea.”

────────────────────────

Impulse keeps quiet, his eyes moving from Hypno to Xisuma and back. The three of them are sitting in Xisuma’s so-called Obsi-Box, or something like that, which is the same cube of obsidian he’s flown over without a clue what it even is.

At least now he knows. Or, he sort of does?

Feeling like he’s about to be told off by his group’s elder back home, he clears his throat, trying not to tear his eyes away from the pair. If they won’t look away, neither will I.

Xisuma begins, “Do you know why you’re here, Impulse?”

Impulse straightens his posture out of instinct. He glances over to his side where Hypno’s blocking the entrance, then he looks back to the admin. “If it’s about Zed-”

Hypno’s quick to cut him off, crossing his arms. “How is he?”

“He prefers tea over soup if that counts for anything,” Impulse huffs, recalling how many failures he’s gone through trying to feed his friend at least one spoonful of soup. He won’t even try his cooking, no matter how many times Impulse insists they aren't burned to a crisp! “Still sneezy, but he’s been staying in bed so he can rest. I’ve made sure of it.”

“Does he know you stole his letter?”

Impulse shifts in his seat. “I didn’t steal it. He gave it to me.”

I just don’t know who it’s from. He wants to say, but he shuts his mouth and waits for someone else to speak.

“I found it sitting in a chair after the meeting,” Xisuma claims, eyes narrowing at the dwarven man.

“So I left it by mistake,” he says. “Are accidents a bad thing now?”

“Keralis said you’re oblivious,” Hypno pipes up.

Did he really?  “Oblivious to what? And, in the nicest way possible, I’d take Keralis’ words with a grain of salt.”

As soon as the Admin’s helmet beeps, he stands up and briefly nudges past Hypno out of the box. “Cleo’s reporting missing blocks in The End. I’m warning Doc, and we’re going to go check for ourselves.”

Impulse and Hypno have followed him out, the latter keeping a watchful eye on the other. Impulse doesn’t mind it, nodding to Xisuma. “Can I have the book back before you go?”

Xisuma clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I don’t have it.”

Impulse glances at Hypno, who mimics the admin’s headshaking. “Don’t look at me.”

He blinks. “Then..?”

Hypno shrugs, both of them watching the admin fly off to go check out the problem Cleo reported. “Try Keralis.”

────────────────────────

The last thing Impulse expects to see when he enters the Impyre is five socked Hermits sliding around his base’s floors. Maybe he should’ve seen it coming. Trying to leave an overthinker-overachiever alone like that wasn’t the best call he could’ve made.

“What are you guys doing?” he asks, pressing against the wall to stay out of the way of becoming a living bowling pin as he watches them slide about. He never knew how slippery his floors were!

Stress slides by him first, laughing. “Sock-sliding!”

“I..” Impulse lines his back against the wall when Etho slides by him. “I see that. But why?”

“I take full responsibility for the safety and fun of these guys,” Cub declares, chuckling as he passes by on one socked foot.

Impulse sighs and only steps forward into the sliding rink, sounds like a good minigame idea now that he thinks about it, to gently grab the passing sheep. The very, very sick and should-have-been-in-bed sheep.

He ignores the weird feeling his stomach’s taunting him with when his friend’s wide, beaming eyes look at him.

“You should be in bed, Zed,” he says gently, tugging one of the blankets to raise it over the sheep’s shoulders properly. Just enough to hide that ridiculous bite mark.

Zedaph turns his head to the side and sneezes, catching it in his arm. Impulse can’t imagine how much more sick he must’ve gotten since he left. “I wanna slide a little more,” he complains.

Their friends have stopped sliding now, even while they’re still socked, and Impulse pretends not to see them for just a moment as he begins to lead his friend by the hand back to his room.

Not really his room, is it?  His thoughts start to swirl. He’s gonna leave when he feels better. He won’t need you then.

If he could tell his brain to shut up, he’d do it in a heartbeat. But no, he has to hear them bubble around with complaints and doubts.

Does he even need you now?

Impulse hopes an internal middle finger is enough to shut his thoughts up for a minute. He shifts his worries back to his friend, whose double-sneeze pulls him out of his headspace.

He bites back an I-told-you-so, bringing Zedaph over to his bed and gently letting go of his hand. “Can you lay down for me?”

“He’s really coming for your Papa brand, Keralis,” he hears Stress fail to whisper in the doorway.

“Papa K for the win,” Etho also fails to whisper. Impulse doubts they’re actually trying though.

Impulse shakes his head and refocuses on his friend, who must be feeling less stubborn by how fast he’s tucked himself into bed. “There you go, bud.” He eyes the bottle of half-finished soup, reminding himself to make some more later. Which, if he thinks about it, he should be doing that now so he can let his friend rest.

But Zedaph grabs his hand before he can stand.

Impulse blinks at him, glancing at their hands for a second before watching the other’s face. He can’t believe how his eyes can still glow like that when Impulse just took him away from a fun activity. “Zed?”

“Stay?”

Oh.

“Oh,” Impulse mirrors his single thought, dumbfounded. But he shakes his head and tries to, as carefully as he can, pull Zedaph’s hand off of his. “Oh, no, no. I have to make more soup.”

Impulse already knew taking care of him won’t be easy.

And if his friend chewing on the sleeve of the hand he’s holding isn’t enough to tell, then he doesn’t know what to think.

“That’s his hand now,” Keralis unhelpfully supplies.

After failing to wiggle his hand away, Impulse sighs and looks over his shoulder. “Are you guys just gonna watch me suffer, or can you help?” he jokes lightheartedly.

“Is watching you suffer an option?” Cub asks, laughing at the glare of playful betrayal Impulse sends him. “Okay, guys. Operation: Rescue Impulse’s Hand is a-go.”

Even when Zedaph’s eyes are half-lidded, his cheek pressed into his pillow, he hasn’t given up chewing Impulse’s sleeve yet.

“We need to give him something else to chew on,” Stress suggests, being the second to enter the room after Cub. “Anyone have something that’s not gonna break his teeth?”

Keralis steps past them and kneels beside Impulse, holding a donut-designed thing. He has no idea what it is, but hey, it’s replacing his sleeve. After Keralis tugs his sleeve out of Zedaph’s mouth and gently pushes in the donut enough for him to chew, Impulse stands up.

“A donut?” Cub questions.

“A chewie that looks like a donut!” Keralis corrects him, smiling and standing up. “It’s clean and unused, by the way. I’m not that gross.”

Impulse cuffs the soaked sleeve until the dry part’s the only one touching his skin, serving as a reminder he needs to wash it and wear something else. “What’s a chewie?”

Keralis showing off his sharp teeth isn’t what Impulse expected, but at least he’s learned not to be totally scared of them now. “They’re super good for a lot of beings with oral fixations! I keep popping mine, but Shashwammy keeps a lot for me at hand.”

Oral fixations. Impulse reminds himself to look into what that is later. That’ll be one of the first things he asks Zedaph when he wakes up.

“Just take it out of his mouth and wash it when he’s asleep or not using it,” Keralis informs.

Impulse nods, making a mental note. “Thank you, Keralis.” He nods again to their friends. “And thanks to you guys for watching over him.”

“We’ll be accepting our diamonds later,” Etho jokes, turning and leaving the Impyre.

“We might as well have a Hermitsitting service, huh?” Cub wonders aloud, following Etho.

Stress and Keralis leave as well, the former giving him two tea bottles before she goes, which he seals safely away in his inventory.

Impulse’s just about to leave the room to cook more soup, but gravity’s not having it today. I can’t leave and let him choke. He looks around before sitting on his knees, trying to find a comfortable position that won’t make his legs cramp for sitting too long.

Then he feels a buzz, taking out his comms.

<GeminiTay whispers to you> fotw

Ah yes. Slang I don’t even know.

<You whisper to GeminiTay> what in the world does that mean?

<GeminiTay whispers to you> fire on the way </3

Impulse stares at the message for a few seconds. He’s assuming either it’s a prank or Gem’s using code for something else.

<You whisper to GeminiTay> prank or real fire???

He glances at his sleeping friend. They’re not high up, so if it’s an actual fire, he’s pretty confident he can take Zedaph out of the Impyre faster than the fire can catch up with them.

Alternatively, if they were a level higher, he’d probably break a window and hope for the best. He’d most likely save his inventory into either a shulker or large chest and hope water bucket tricks haven’t failed him. As long as his friend’s safely out, he might not mind the risk of himself dying.

His eyes flick back to the screen when it beeps at him.

<GeminiTay whispers to you> tango, dummy

<GeminiTay whispers to you> good luck <3

Chapter Text

Joe wonders if the Void’s laughing right now. Sure, he agreed to tag along with Jevin to make sure he doesn’t beat Tango to death with another cactus. And sure, he may have accidentally sworn to be their mediator if things go to shit, but have they considered he just says things sometimes?

He’s watching Jevin try and fly into one of Deep Frost Citadel’s towers. Joe already told him it’s not going to work, something about Tango using Nether magic on his castle for security reasons, but Jevin’s not the best listener. So he stands aside, arms crossed, and waits.

“I can feel your judgment from here,” Jevin pipes up. He just came back from, what, his eighth death? He doesn’t look at Joe, going through the shulker box he shoved all of Jevin’s things into.

“Good,” is all Joe replies with.

“Can’t you use your godly powers and teleport us in or anything?”

Joe looks up at three phantoms coming down. He waits for two to knock into Jevin, who swings his arms at them, only hitting one back. “I came here to lay low like a normal human being.”

“You’re not a normal human being,” Jevin argues. “You’re not even human.”

“Neither are you,” Joe points out. He ducks just as a phantom dives down, and he jumps up in time to bump heads with the next one. It makes him rattle at first for a good few seconds, something he’s fifty-fifty on whether it’s a good rattle or a bad rattle, then he calms down. “You could just slide in if you really wanted to.”

He focuses on fighting off the laughing trio of phantoms instead of paying attention to Jevin’s are-you-kidding-me?  face. It’s funny, of course it is, but he’d like to refrain from being the one hit by a cactus, thanks.

Jevin piles away his tool and starts slinking down into a pile of slime. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything sooner.”

Joe looks for the phantoms again, sighing when he catches sight of the sun popping up, lighting the trio up as he gets to hear their laughs turn into screams. Thanks whoever slept. Probably Bdubs. He closes his eyes. Yeah, it’s Bdubs.

He opens his eyes. Sometimes he hears his friends’ voices if he keeps his eyes closed long enough, being able to pick up on certain words as if he’s right there to hear them. Other times, he sees people in his mind, like he’s watching over them as a casual observer.

He waits in front of the castle, watching Jevin finally land in a tower. He checks the shulker box, makes sure it’s empty, and stuffs it away into his inventory.

And right when he’s having a look around, taking in how massive Tango’s castle is, there appears the Netherborn himself.

“Where were you?” is the first thing Joe asks, as if he doesn’t already know. It’s one of the first things he learned coming onto Hermitcraft; some people find it somehow unsettling being told someone’s seen their every move. He doesn’t get Players at all.

Tango rolls his shoulder and tilts his head from one side to the other. Joe tunes out the small bones cracking at the motion. “Just came from Falsie’s.”

Joe glances around, catching sight of his slime friend pacing up in the tower. He sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to type into his communicator as subtle as he can.

<You whisper to iJevin> stay there. he’s here.

“Did you need something, Joe?”

Joe’s eyes snap up at the question. Pay attention, moron. He scolds himself before giving a nod. “Yeah, I do.”

Tango grins at him, flicking his tail. “Really now? What can I do for ya, dude?”

“What’s up with you and Zedaph?”

Tango’s grin slips into a half-smile, and he tears his eyes away to look at the Deep Frost Citadel. Joe watches him with caution, mostly for Jevin’s sake. “What d’ya mean by that?”

“I’m not askin’ for private details or anythin’, all that’s your business.” Joe doesn’t miss Tango brushing his fingers over the bite the sheep left him. He doesn’t know how someone can parade it around, but he’s not in any place to judge. “I’m just wonderin’ what the deal is.”

“Deal,” Tango repeats, shaking his head at him. “There’s no deal or whatever you think there is, Joe,” he says firmly. “We’re just two best friends who happen to be a little touchy.”

He moves back when his communicator beeps. Either Tango doesn’t hear it, or he’s riled up already.

<iJevin whispers to you> What are you saying down there?

<iJevin whispers to you> I can kinda see from up here.

Joe’s finger lingers over the comms before he takes his hands out of his pockets, pretending to stretch when he raises his arms. He doesn’t bother to fake a yawn. Not that no one would buy it, but he’s not looking to pretend he’s tired for no real reason.

“Does Impulse know?”

Tango huffs, and Joe notices the flames rise and burn his friend’s tail a bit brighter. “You make it sound like I’m cheating or something.”

Joe frowns and quickly shakes his head. “Not tryin’ to insinuate that, and I’m sorry for phrasin’ it poorly.” He considers his question carefully this time. It’s not a subject everyone’s willing to talk about, even if he doesn’t know why, and he really doesn’t need to upset a fellow Hermit. “You’re sure Zed sees you as a best friend?”

Okay. He’s glaring at me now. I should’ve worded it differently.

The flames on his tail and hair are burning brightly. Joe’s thankful it just means he has to look away, and that it’s not enough to steal his eyesight right then and there. He’s heard what Sunwalkers do, and honestly, he’s more than relieved none of the Hermits come from that bloodline of creatures.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Tango crosses his arms and wraps his tail around his leg, the fire end of it pointed away from him. “We didn’t have a falling out or whatever rumors are saying, okay? We’re fine.”

Joe holds his hand up. “I want to say somethin’.”

Tango narrows his eyes, but he sighs. “Fine.”

“I don’t understand Players,” Joe throws out there, catching Jevin waving at him from up there. He doesn’t linger too much when he refocuses on Tango, sinking his hand into a pocket to answer the long-abandoned question.

<You whisper to iJevin> don’t worry.

“Yeah, you don’t,” Tango growls.

Joe doesn’t take it personally. He said it himself anyway, and he’s never gone a day on the server thinking he’ll actually understand how a Player’s brain works. They’re all different and not worth his time to figure out.

“I also don’t understand why talking is hard for some of you.”

Tango scoffs at him, offended. “Excuse me?”

Joe briefly wonders if Jevin can read lips from so far away. So, with that in mind, he leans in and turns his head away, so he’s not facing the tower. “Jevin wants to know if you’ll let him apologize for what happened between you.”

He takes the fire’s brightness dimming as a good sign. Tango turns so he’s facing the same as Joe, breathing harshly through his nose. Unlike Joe’s, his breaths are visible, coming out in puffs of cold air. “He told you?”

“No,” Joe answers smoothly. I knew before he even came to me. But you wouldn’t like it if I said that, would you?  He shakes his head. “He asked where you were so he can make it up to you though. I didn’t pry, ‘cause I don’t care.”

Joe steps back when Tango stares at him. But Tango doesn’t move closer, and that’s when Joe realizes he can’t. He’s shivering, and that’s why his flames are starting to spark less.

What’s with Players and pretending they can stand snow biomes?

<You whisper to iJevin> he’s freezing.

<You whisper to iJevin> take him to the Impyre.

Joe rubs his hands together for warmth. He can adjust his body temperature to withstand certain temperatures, but where’s the fun in that? Just because he doesn’t get Players doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy some ungodly things.

<iJevin whispers to you> Why??

<You whisper to iJevin> make up for upsetting him?

When he’s about to send another message to let Jevin know he can swoop down with his elytra like he wasn’t up in the tower the whole time, the slime himself does as Joe expected him to.

{iJevin} fell from a high place.

Joe shrugs when Tango looks at him with a dozen questions in his eyes. He simply goes ahead and collects Jevin’s items, plopping down a shulker box and tossing them in.

────────────────────────

“How’ve you been, man?”

Since Joe insisted he at least let Jevin take him to see his friend, Tango’s been avoiding speaking as much as possible. Or at least that’s what he was trying to do.

“All good,” Tango answers coolly. His tail’s swaying behind him by the time they’re out of the colder biome. He thought being at False’s would’ve helped build some sort of immunity to freezing, but nope! “Uh, how-”

“Well hello there!”

The pair stop when Jellie runs up to them, meowing and going up to rub her head against Jevin’s leg, risking getting slime tucked into her fur. She shakes it out though, and goes over to do the same to Tango’s leg, purring just as much.

And where Jellie goes, Scar goes.

He’s a little farther away from them, and Tango figures it’s because Jellie outran him, then the Vex finally catches up to them.

“Hey Scar!” Jevin greets him with a brief smile.

“Hey,” Tango follows suit. He reaches down to carefully pick up Jellie from the ground, chuckling when she gives up all her weight to sink into his arms. “Hey to you too, Jellie.”

“You guys are going to the Impyre too, huh?” Scar paces around them like some interrogation, looking them up and down. Then he stops beside Tango, trying to line himself up just right. “I’m coming with you guys!”

Tango brushes his hair back, feeling the heat touch his fingers. He struggles to hold Jellie at first, ending up having her leap from his arms and into Scar’s lap, who happily welcomes her presence. “Why? I mean, more the merrier of course, but?”

Scar gives him a look. It’s not that I-have-an-idea-so-hear-me-out look he knows and kinda loves. It’s that same look he and Cub shared when he may or may not have asked about healing potions and certain ‘injuries’.

Tango hopes the man has mercy on him, and he lets out a breath when Scar’s eyes shift to Jevin, who he’s hoping doesn’t know what they know.

“I just wanna hang out with two of my friendos!” Scar sounds way too innocent, even for his standards. It’s suspicious, but Tango keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t look either of them in the eye, thinking.

He pretends not to tense up when Jevin jabs his shoulder to get his attention. “Still cold, dude?”

“What?” Tango has to double-check and make sure he’s not shivering anymore. And he isn’t, so there’s no way he’s cold, right? He’s pretty sure he doesn’t feel different either. “Nah, I’m-”

“Oh, you’re cold?” Scar interrupts, blinking as he looks at Tango, who makes the mistake of looking back. He starts moving in the direction they were heading, all while Jellie sleeps away in his lap. “Well, we must get going! The Impyre’s a mighty fine and warm place!”

“Can you even get cold?” Jevin asks, following Scar and looking at the Netherborn. “I mean, you’re kind of already fire and everything.”

Tango nods a little. “Yeah, yeah. It’s kinda like feeling hot and cold at once, so like..” He tries to gesture with his tail and hands at his general self, unsure how to explain it. “I can feel the heat if I touch my fire, y’know? But I don’t feel hot 24/7 ‘cause of it.”

“Do you know how Overworldians get cold in the Nether?” comes Scar’s question. “Like, if they don’t wear any protective stuff?”

Tango snorts. “I don’t think I know anyone dumb enough to freeze in the Nether if they’re not Netherborn, Scar,” he answers, thinking. “..Other than you, I think.”

Scar gasps in mock-offense, putting a hand to where a heart would be. “How rude! And here I thought I’d give you those healing potions you’ve been asking for.”

Tango has to have a minute to process what he said. And when he does, he feels himself burning a tad more than he normally is. He glances at Jevin, who’s already looking at him and he regrets it heavily, and he pushes his hair back again. “Whaat healing potions, man? Think you’re confused or something.”

He doesn’t have to look to feel the slime’s eyes on him. “I was gonna ask about that. You seem pretty chill about getting bit.” For some reason, he pokes at Tango’s neck. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad over it before. I thought you were getting hurt.”

Tango covers his ears when he feels them heat up. He can’t exactly hide the thing on his neck either, but that’s its own story. “It’s- Uh- It’s fine, don’t worry about it!”

He anticipates Scar to make a comment, staring at the back of their friend’s head. But when nothing comes from the Vex, he sighs and, waiting for the blood to cool from his ears, puts his arms down.

“I have bandages on me if you want,” Jevin offers, already holding a bundle in one arm. “Joe was pissed when I put some on him for punching my window.”

“I think he likes showing it off.” There it is.

Tango quickly covers his ears again and glares at the ground, refusing to look at either of his friends.

In the corner of his eye, he sees Jevin put the bandages away. “Why would he… Tango, are you trying to show it off?”

“Oh-my-gosh-look-at-that-we-made-it!” Tango scrambles for words and zips past his friends, briefly sends an apologetic glance to Jellie for waking her, when the Impyre is closer in view. He has to look over it two or three more times before he calms down, turning and waiting for the pair to catch up. “C’mon, slowpokes!”

Scar beats it to the entrance seconds before Jevin, who’s picked up some of his slime parts to pat down inside him for.. absorption? Tango has no idea how that works and he probably doesn’t want to know.

“I’ll take this as my cue to go, since all I said was that I’d take you here,” Jevin says, waving at the three before he flies off somewhere.

When he’s gone and out of earshot, or Tango assumes so, the Netherborn leans close to Scar and whispers. “Do you really have healing potions on you?”

Scar looks at him for one, two, three seconds before he whispers, “Impulse does.”

Tango flicks his tail at Scar, more as a vague warning because he moves away to do it, not wanting to actually set something on fire. He keeps his voice even and whispers back, “Does he know what it’s for?”

Scar just smiles at him and Tango refrains from shaking the Vex’s shoulders. All Scar does instead of answer is enter the Impyre, immediately fascinated by how Impulse built it.

Tango curses the Void and Scar before following him inside. With Jellie as his witness, he can only hope it’ll just be a grab-and-go.

Chapter Text

Waking up with the end of a pillow in his mouth isn’t what Zedaph wanted or expected when he opened his eyes. While it startles him at first, he eases at the fact there’s barely a trace of a bite or saliva on it. And even if there’s evidence, he’ll probably play it off as drooling or something.

Zedaph runs a hand through his hair, fluffing it when he sits up. He doesn’t immediately process how he can’t move his legs until his gaze lands on the reason. The reason being a certain dwarf laying his head back, snoring.

He’s slow to move his leg as much as he can with half of his friend on top, which isn’t saying much because he gives up and lays back down.

With the blankets loosened, he tugs at them enough to be halfway covered, throwing the other half over Impulse’s chest. He moves his legs again the tiniest amount, relieved they haven’t cramped yet, which he assumes means he’s been tossing and turning.

And what better way to wait out until his friend wakes up than engage in social conversations over comms?

Zedaph doesn’t realize it’s on the table by him until he looks over, shaking his head and slowly reaching to grab it. He’s constantly looking back and forth between it and Impulse, doing his best not to kick him awake, and he internally celebrates when the communicator’s in his hands.

<Zedaph> Hey guys! :D

He holds the comm out in front of him, distancing it enough from his face. It’s easier to read from a distance than up so close.

When it beeps a few times at once, he glances at his sleeping friend before looking at the screen.

<Stressmonster101> he lives :0

<Etho> We literally saw him yesterday.

<xBCrafted> times a construct yall

<BdoubleO100> IT IS???

Zedaph scratches his neck, which is his first mistake. When he brushes over the one spot he’s been leaving alone for hours, he can’t help scratching it over and over. It’s not a bad itch, only really stings somewhat, but it’s still irritating!

<Zedaph> Stuck in bed and missing you all <3

He has to put the comm down to scratch it with his other hand. He’s pulling at his shirt collar and tugging it, trying to press it right against the bite. He thinks it’ll stop itching soon, and he won’t be messing with it again. For now, though, he’s scritch-scratching like there’s no tomorrow!

He holds the comm up when it beeps, forcing his hands away from the bite so they’re both holding his device.

<Docm77 whispers to you> Is Impulse there?

Zedaph snorts quietly as he glances at his friend, who’s facing away from him now. He looks at the screen again and tries to type fast, all while being as quiet as possible.

<You whisper to Docm77> Yeah on my legs

<Docm77 whispers to you> TMI??

He blinks at the message before deciding it’s best to bury himself under his three remaining blankets. Two, actually, because he has no fucking idea where the third one is. He has to count again to himself, realizing he’s left with one yellow blanket and a pink one.

He’s safely assuming the Void ate it.

Zedaph, nevertheless, manages to tuck himself under the blankets with his communicator held to his chest. It’s hard to move with his horns tangling at first, but he gets there.

<You whisper to Docm77> He’s asleep!!! >:(

<Docm77 whispers to you> In the same bed?

<You whisper to Docm77> He’s on the floor!!

<Docm77 whispers to you> On the way :)

Zedaph makes the mistake of kicking his leg out, hitting his hoof right into the back of Impulse’s head, hearing his friend groan. Like he’s going to get caught for something, even though all he’s doing is lying in bed, he hugs his comm and holds his breath.

────────────────────────

Rubbing his head, Impulse blinks without a single thought in his head. In his defense, sleep’s tough to get when he’s usually moving around bringing beacons to iLuminate or helping someone with minigames and redstone contraptions. That, and he tends to stay awake as much as possible, even when he’s tired.

He doesn’t think when he lays his head back, stretching his arms out either side of him, only to gently knock his head against a.. bone?

Impulse looks around to figure out where he is, the Impyre, and he shifts slowly to face a bundle of something under a pair of blankets. Did he bring in dogs from the rain and just forget?

No, can’t be. If they’re dogs, they wouldn’t be staying in one spot like that.

He thinks about it for a few extra seconds before hearing the blanket bundle exhale roughly. I’m pretty sure blankets aren’t sentient!

He has to move back and come close, fumbling for a comfier position, swapping from sitting on his knees to tossing his legs to the side. It’s comfier, even if nothing’s cushioning him.

Impulse reaches and pulls the blankets only a little off, in case they are a bunch of wet strays he somehow can’t remember.

While they’re not strays, he does get welcomed with one of his friends pretending to be asleep. Only way he can tell is the way Zedaph’s pinching his eyes shut in a real struggle.

“Wakey-wakey, I don’t have eggs or anything bakey,” Impulse hums, gently nudging his friend’s shoulder to ‘wake’ him up.

He thinks it’s working, that Zedaph will either play up the act and yawn or something, but Impulse stands at the sound of knocking. He’s pretty sure he’s said before that anyone’s allowed in if they want, but manners are also okay!

“Hold that thought, buddy,” he pats Zedaph’s shoulder before he leaves the room, double-checking the halls so he goes down the right one to the entrance.

When he answers the door, the server’s favorite ( and only ) creeper-robot stands before him in all his.. creeper-bot glory? Something like that!

“Oh, Doc! Hi!” Impulse knows better than to budge from the door this time. While he knows Doc will probably push his way through like last time, he’d like to think he can hold his ground a second longer this time around. “What brings you to the Impyre?”

Doc doesn’t seem overly pleased to see him, but at least he’s smiling. “How is the little sheep? Is he doing well?”

Impulse looks over his shoulder, having to make sure the one in question hasn’t just snuck out with his back turned. He turns back to look at Doc, nodding. “He’s doing okay! I just woke up though, and my head’s a little whirly, but we’re good!”

“Whirly?” Doc repeats, tilting his head. “Have you gotten sick, Impulse?”

“Oh, no,” Impulse shakes his head slowly, not wanting to mess up his brain if he moves it too fast. “I hit my head against his leg, but it’s nothing to worry about!”

Doc stares. “... Is he still sleeping?”

Impulse nods. “Yeah, he is. Do you need him for something?”

“I wanted to hang out with him,” Doc replies, blinking. He tries to step forward, but Impulse zips in place, one hand on the door and the other grabbing the wall. “Surely you can bite down the jealousy to let him hang with a friend, yes?”

He chews the inside of his cheek to keep from using a few choice words he’d prefer to avoid. “He’s not feeling the best yet, Doc. It’s not a ‘jealousy’ thing.”

Doc jabs at his chest and Impulse can’t help narrowing his eyes. “You had him on your mind even when I asked for soup.”

“How’s that make me jealous?” Impulse asks. “So I made extra soup for a sick Hermit, where’s the jealousy in that?”

“Shoving me out the door is a good indicator,” Doc whispers while leaning close, shutting this conversation off from as many unwanted listeners as he can. “I’m just asking to spend some time with him. I won’t even take him out of your base, and we’ll stay in that little room.”

“Thanks for dropping by, Doc,” Impulse says with a smile, leading his fellow Hermit outside, giving him a light push out the door. “Warn me next time, yeah? That way we’re more prepared when you come visit.”

“Mhm,” is the noise of uncertainty Doc gives him before he turns and leaves with a bottle of soup in one hand.

“Think he’s a good kisser?”

Impulse chokes on air with that being the thing to pull him from his thoughts. Who even asks something like that?!  “What?” he coughs.

He’s not liking the sudden gleam in Doc’s eye. “Zedaph. Good kisser, yes or no?”

“I don’t know, man,” Impulse huffs, reluctantly moving to the side as he holds the door open. “Just get in.”

“You do not mind me finding out for myself then?”

“I- What?”

“Oh Zedaph!” Doc calls out while walking through the hall.

Impulse slams the door with more force than intended before he follows Doc, moving around to reach Zedaph’s room first, right before the doorway. He’s not too sure how thin the walls are, so he whispers, “You are not kissing him while he’s sick.”

Doc looks past him to the doorway, blinking. “So, free to kiss when he’s no longer sick?”

“No-” Impulse rubs his hands over his face and tilts his head back. “No kissing him at all, please.”

“Jealousy,” Doc taunts, clicking his tongue against his teeth. He lowers his voice as he says, “I won’t take your little sheep from you.”

“If he heard you call him that, he’d kick you,” Impulse bites back. He enters Zedaph’s room without a worry, humming to himself.

Zedaph looks better than he did when their friends dropped him off. Impulse likes to think it’s his soup and Gem’s tea that have helped him heal, but he also knows his friend’s body’s strong enough to fight whatever he even caught from the Nether.

He can’t help but let his eyes wander over his friend’s neck. He can’t see it with the blankets raised over him like that, but that somehow makes it worse.

And so does remembering Doc’s right here. “Kleines Schaf!" he sings as he enters the room, roughly shouldering past Impulse on his way to the bed. “How are you?”

Impulse rubs his fingers over his closed fist, cautiously watching the pair from close to the doorway. It’s like he’s walked into a scene without lines to deliver, because it’s not his scene in the first place.

“Feeling fantastic!” Zedaph chirps, his smile nearly touching his eyes. Impulse lets his eyes linger for a while. It may not be for him, but even so, ‘a while’ begins to carry on.

Doc sits on the end of the bed and has the audacity to look back at him. They stare at each other for about a minute before Doc looks at Zedaph. “No longer sick?” he asks.

Shaking his head, the sheep shrugs off his blankets and tosses them on the pillow behind him. “Don’t think so, but I’m giving it a day or two of no-sick-feels before I can declare myself fully not-sick!”

“Is it fine for me to kiss you?” The way he asks is casual, nonchalant even. Impulse’s more than aware he’s not going to do anything someone doesn’t want him to, but it doesn’t shake all worries off his mind. Doc taps the sheep’s forehead. “Right here.”

Zedaph doesn’t miss a beat saying, “Sure, but it’s on you if you catch what I have,” he teases, leaning up for him. “Just don’t hit my horns? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Doc waves a hand to dismiss the concern, smiling down at him. He brushes some of the hair from his forehead with his thumb, all while Zedaph just stares up, waiting. “Nothing I can’t handle, beau.”

Impulse curses and thanks the Void when he hears knocking on his door. He’s already dipping out of the room without a word, even if a small part of him felt he shouldn’t.

────────────────────────

“Impulse, buddy!”

“Scar? Tango..? What’s up?”

Tango doesn’t get a word in when Scar decides to nudge him forward with a light bump. His turtleneck’s high enough, he triple-checked on the way to the Impyre, and he’s been practicing to keep his flames cool until he leaves.

“You know those healing potions I asked for?” Scar hums, petting the feline occupying his lap as he wheels himself in with his free hand.

Impulse shuts the door for them and walks down a hall, nodding. “Yeah. You still didn’t tell me what they’re for though.”

So he doesn’t know.  Tango considers it a win before realizing it’s Scar of all beings, so he sends a glance to his friend, who doesn’t even look at him. While he would love to relax, he’s not about to drop his guard with the absolute prank-loving mess of a friend around. Only because sometimes, just sometimes, the Vex goes a little overboard.

“They’re for our good friend Tango!” Scar replies happily, and there’s the knowing look he’s tossing to Tango. His grin reaches his eyes, which Tango’s choosing to believe is innocent and not at all mischievous.

But even he can’t lie to himself.

“Did you get hurt?” Tango snaps his focus back to their friend. Impulse has brought them to something that looks like a kitchen, or close to a typical one. He’s going through cabinets and barrels.

Just make up something, Tango. “I.. Yeah, I did!” he manages to let out, forcing on a half-smile.

“Is it the magma cube?”

Tango curls his tail around his leg and blinks. Did Scar tell him a lie for me already?  He waits, watching the dwarven man come forward with about two potions in his hands. “What magma cube?”

Tango refrains from whipping his tail around. He’s not entirely sure what the Impyre’s made of, but it’s likely for the best not to set his friend’s home on fire. But with how said friend’s looking at him, can he really be blamed for the flames rising slowly?

“The one you said gave you the thing on your neck. Remember?”

Oh fuck that was MY lie!?

Tango clears his throat and turns his head, silently glaring at Scar, who’s much too busy cooing to his cat to notice. That, or he doesn’t really care. Minding where he steps, Tango moves next to Scar, taking one of the potions at a time from Impulse and sealing them in his inventory.

“Right, yeah,” Tango affirms, finding use of his voice again.

It’s taking a lot of self-restraint not to leave with the potions and Jellie. He turns to give Scar a warning glare, but the Vex is following Impulse, who leaves the room to go further down the hall.

“Doc, Zed, we have some visitors!” Impulse informs the pair in the bedroom, staying out by the doorway.

Tango goes in ahead of Scar with Jellie leaping down to follow in on her own paws. “Zed?” is the first thing he says when he sees his friends sitting on a bed. “What are you doing here?”

Zedaph shifts away from Doc, taking his hands away from the creeper’s shoulders. He’s not even looking at me.

Looking at Doc doesn’t feel any better, because all he gets doing that is realizing the creeper’s eyes are on Zedaph. On him, his face, and Tango doesn’t need to know any details about where he’s eyeing to get the idea.

Impulse fills in for the long-gone question. “He went to the Nether looking for you and froze up,” he says. He won’t look at him either, instead turning to walk away, down the hall where the kitchen is. “Speaking of that, I’m going to prepare a new bottle of soup for him.”

Tango nods to his friend and turns his focus to Zedaph, shaking his head. “You got sick?!”

Zedaph glances at him, then he looks at Doc, sharing some knowing look the Netherborn isn’t about to look into yet. “Well-”

Tango doesn’t let him get a word out when he lunges at him, squeezing the sheep in the tightest hug he can give. His tail whips behind him, staying away from lighting the bed or someone on fire.

He feels the bed become much lighter and assumes it’s Doc getting off, but he doesn’t let his friend go, screwing his eyes shut.

“What are you guys doing here?” he hears Doc ask, lowering his voice somewhat.

He also hears Jellie’s mewls from somewhere around them, refusing to open his eyes to actually see for himself. Then it’s Scar saying, “Trying to give our friendos a little nudge-nudge.”

“You’re both terrible at whispering.” It’s Zedaph this time. While he keeps his arms around Tango, who opens his eyes at the sudden sound of his voice, he’s half-glaring at the other two. “I know why Doc’s here. Why are you here, Scar? What nudge-nudge are you going on about?”

“I think Jellie wants a treat!” Scar picks up the quiet feline from the bed, so that’s where she went, sets her gently on his lap to lay down before he goes to take Doc’s hand. “Doc, angel, can you come with me? I have no idea where Impulse’s kitchen’s supposed to be, and a humongous place like this is no place for lil’ ol’ me and Jellie to get lost in!”

Tango does his best not to glare at either of his friends, even if he doubts either of them would care about the non-threat. At least he feels a little lighter when Scar leads Doc out of the room, leaving just him and...

“Sorry!” he apologizes quickly, throwing his arms aside and shuffling away from Zedaph, who simply blinks at him.

Zedaph’s staring at him now. Tango’s certain he ruined whatever his friends were doing, and he may be a bit proud of himself for redirecting Zedaph’s attention like that, but he’s also feeling a lot of emotions at once.

Tango tries to laugh it off, crossing his arms. “You- Okay, I- I know I fucked up bad, but you don’t need to look at me like I fucked your boyfriend or something!” he jokes, he swears it’s a joke, and he swears he’s not feeling sweaty and gross.

Downfalls of having parts of me be constantly on fire.

“Your hair’s brighter,” is all that comes out of his friend’s mouth. It barely hits him that Zedaph’s hovering a hand over his hair, twirling a finger around and watching the flame dance along with it. Then confusion takes over. “Wait- Boyfriend?”

Oh shit I was kidding! He doesn’t seriously think I’d do that, right?!

Tango shakes his head immediately, defensively holding his hands up. “No no no! No! I didn’t fuck him! I promise, man, I swear on-”

“Tango, hold yourself,” Zedaph tries to reassure him. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“He- He’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about.”

Tango glances at the doorway to check, but he doesn’t trust these walls with any lit or dim part of his body. So he leans in, lightly bumping Zedaph’s forehead with his own, and whispers, “I saw how Doc looked at you a while ago.”

“And you think us dating wouldn’t be out there for all of Hermitcraft to know?” Zedaph teases, raising an eyebrow.

“You could’ve been doing it in secret,” Tango guesses.

“Uh huh,” Zedaph snorts. “I’m too openly unashamed to keep my mouth shut, and he’s too proud to not say anything.” He pauses, brows knit in one of his thinking modes, and he continues, “I think we’d wear each other out too fast.”

Tango tugs at his turtleneck, holding it down enough to show the bruise he’s yet to cover up with potions. If they even work. “Did you mean to do this, Zed?”

Zedaph turns his head with his eyes closed. “I can’t believe you didn’t clean it off.”

“You didn’t clean away mine,” Tango points out, his face flushing at the impact he made on his friend’s skin. “Do these come off with healing potions? ‘cause like, I have two we can drink up.”

“They might, yes,” Zedaph says, brushing up against the other’s arm, tilting his head a bit aside to keep his horns away. “I’ve never bitten someone like that before to know how to get rid of it.”

Tango gets out one potion and passes it to his friend, bumping his shoulder twice or thrice for him to open his eyes, then he holds his own potion. “You’ve bitten people unlike that before?”

“I bit Gem once as payback for eating lamb chops in front of me. Then she bit me and we never talked about it to each other again,” Zedaph recalls, shrugging. “You?”

Tossing around some memories, the Netherborn doesn’t find a single one regarding passionate bites. Or any bites. “Never bit anyone. Never had a reason.”

Slightly tilting the bottle of healing, Zedaph’s back into his thinking mode, one of them anyway, before he meets Tango’s stare. “Can I be the reason?”

“Did you mean to answer that question without talking to me?” Tango counters. He’s fast to elaborate when Zedaph’s mouth opens. “I consented, I know, but we didn’t really talk about us before.”

Zedaph blinks. “There’s an ‘us’?” he asks, hopefulness plastered on his face.

“Is there?”

“I.. don’t think I know what that means, Tango.”

“I wanna know if you’re playing chicken with me.”

Zedaph stares at him. He stares, stares, stares, up until he breaks eye contact. “Only chicken I know is Grian.”

“How about gay chicken then?” Tango tries, remembering some of his conversation with Ren. It’s probably an Overworld thing. He assures himself, still not getting the point of a game like that.

And now he’s just looking at me like I grew another head. Thanks Ren, I’m rethinking our 30-second bonding moment now!  “Gay chicken?”

“A game to challenge who’s more willing to act all romantic until one of them chickens out,” is as much as he remembers Ren telling him with a few rephrases. That, and he’s decidedly against the other version his friend told him about. Just for now.

“Is this a Hermit Challenges thing?” Zedaph asks, glancing around as if this whole thing’s some elaborate set-up and someone’s going to burst in with cameras or something.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing, bonehead,” Tango chuckles. He finds the book in his inventory and flips it open to the first and only written page. He taps his finger on the last line, showing it to his friend. “Is this a prank?”

“Is my confession a prank?” Zedaph reiterates, brows pinching in thought. “You tell me, bud-a-roo.”

Confession. The word bubbles around his head, slowly picking up the pace like the thing on DVD bobbing into one corner at a time on a TV screen. And one look at his friend makes him lick his lips.

“I have no idea, dude,” he answers, unsure. He tries to think he would’ve seen this coming like highlighted text if it’s real. He looks at the page, turning it so only he’s looking at it, and Tango thinks. He thinks how much more likely it is that his friend’s just messing with him, the whole biting thing is some game or whatever, and that Zedaph happens to be a really touchy guy in the name of a challenge.

“Do you think I’d give you that if I was messing with you?” It’s like he read Tango’s mind! Zedaph brings his legs up and sits cross-legged, no longer leaning into him.

“Maybe?” Tango guesses, but he’s not focusing on his friend now. He’s still paying attention to what’s been said and what they’re both saying, but he can’t make sense of anything for the life of him.

Zedaph lowers his voice when he says, “You bit me back. Were you just joking?”

“No,” leaves his lips fast, and Tango shakes his head, flames whisking in his hair with the movement. He considers his volume before whispering, “I don’t even know why I bit you.”

I know that’s probably not what you wanna hear, but you can look more subtle about it.  His thoughts ring in his ears, picking at his brain to get at least one of them out there in the open, so he doesn’t have to let them pile up in the back of his throat just to be swallowed down later.

“You don’t know why?” Zedaph repeats, something he’s incredibly great at if this is where the conversation’s heading. “Did it feel good?”

Okay. Not where I thought this was going, but to be fair, that’s on me for being almost out-of-it.

“There aren’t any hidden cams here, right?” Tango finally asks, one of many questions he let sit on his tongue, waiting. He doesn’t look around for himself, knowing that’s kind of the whole reason behind camera accounts. While they pop up in the player list, the actual embodiments, or whatever they are, don’t show up like a player’s body does. When he looks back at his friend, Tango attempts to defend himself, “Listen, I- I don’t know what any of this is, okay? I’m kinda confused and.. I don’t know, I'm just confused.”

“Confused,” Zedaph parrots. “Tango, I love you.”

I don’t think Impulse sets up cams in the Impyre. Even if he did, those accounts would’ve popped up in the list already, but I’m not seeing a thing. And if they’re those weirder ones made by hand, crafted out of whatever scraps even go into making one, then they must be really covered up.

Tango’s about to open his mouth, shoot another question, right before Zedaph bonks his forehead with his own. Tango hisses and leans back, head down and flames increasing slightly. “What was that for?!”

“Calm yourself,” Zedaph mutters. Tango follows his glance to the doorway, no shadows lingering it seems. But they can’t be too careful with whatever this is. “I love you.”

He huffs and gets up, combing his fingers through his hair to try and settle his flames. “Yeah, I know, love you too. But you really didn’t need to do that.”

Zedaph shakes his head and reaches out, grabbing Tango’s hand and pulling him forward. “I mean it romantically, Tango. I love you platonically and romantically.”

Tango takes this time to glance around the room. It’s just a bed, bedside table, chests against one wall and an ender chest at the foot of the bed. “This is one hell of a game of chicken.”

“I’m not playing a game.”

“And I don’t believe you actually dig me that way. Platonic, yeah, but not the other one.”

Zedaph lets go of his hand and stands up, narrowing his eyes at him. “I’ve been trying to tell you for years.”

Tango scoffs. “No you haven’t.”

“Yes I have,” Zedaph argues. “I saved my first I-love-you for you idiots until I was positive I knew how I felt. I still feel how I felt years ago, just… with more feelings tacked on. We were close, but I knew better than to go all out with some large confession, so I tried telling you when it was just us.”

I don’t remember anything like that.  Tango bites his tongue, swallowing down some of those abandoned thoughts. “And I reacted…?”

“You called me a dork and said you love me too.”

That’s better than I expected!  “And that’s bad because…?”

“Not bad, because I knew you meant it,” Zedaph reassures, eyes looking somewhere Tango doesn’t need to follow. “You just didn’t mean it how I meant it. Which, again, isn’t your fault.”

“Hold that thought real fast,” Tango says, holding a hand up to pause his friend for a moment. He puts his hand down after. “You said ‘idiots’. Like, like ‘idiot’ in the plural way. Who else were you crushing on?”

“Still am, actually,” the sheep corrects him without missing a beat, meeting his gaze this time. “Who do you think?”

Isn’t that the million diamond question?

Tango rolls through all of the Hermits’ names in his head, plucking out his own and obviously Zedaph’s, unless his friend has that much of an ego to find himself attractive enough to crush on. Not that Tango would disagree, but no one needs to know that.

“I hope you know the first person I thought of is Doc,” Tango says, picking the most prominent of names from his brain’s juggling. When Zedaph looks at him, confused, he quickly adds, “It’s okay if it’s him! I literally can not judge you at all on that. He’s, like, really hot. And dude, have you seen his muscles?”

Zedaph turns his head and laughs, placing a hand on Tango’s shoulder just to stay upright. “I- I’m curious what exactly you think my type is. Do you think muscles and hotness are my exclusive traits of attraction?”

“Is that your way of saying I’m right?” Tango teases, hands on his hips.

“I told you we’d wear each other out too fast, remember?”

“‘cause of low stamina or?”

Zedaph rolls his eyes and sits on the bed. He folds his hands in his lap, seated cross-legged like before. “It’s you and Impulse,” he whispers.

Tango doesn’t process the name how he probably should, instead grabbing his friend’s shoulders and shaking him back and forth for two or three seconds. “And he has no idea?!”

Zedaph shakes his head. “You had no idea until I told you. I was supposed to tell both of you, you know, with my letters, but it didn’t work how I expected.”

“Zed, I’m sorry-”

“Good scientists don’t expect to perfect every test they do, Tango,” Zedaph says, and Tango takes it as his way of reassuring him. He’s good at that somehow. “We observe, we do trial-and-error, and we persist.”

“That’s why it’s...” That’s why it’s been years.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

The pair turn their heads to the doorway, where their dwarven friend’s standing with two bottled soups in either hand.

Zedaph takes Tango’s hand and pulls him down, making him sit beside him, then he looks at Impulse. “We should talk.”

Chapter Text

Scar holds his little feline friend up, waiting for Jellie to walk onto a counter to explore before putting his arms down. The kitchen-looking room’s pretty typical with a whirl around; cabinets, a full table and chairs, squeaky clean tile floors that feel incredible sliding his wheels over, and the lights don’t burn his eyes!

He eyes the piles of gold stacked in each corner of the dining space. They’re not exactly in neat stacks or anything, but they sure are piles of the stuff, just messily tossed together in one general area.

“You’ve been pretty silent over there, big guy,” he says, glancing at his friend. Doc’s been leaning against the wall by the doorway since he came in, and while it’s not that unsettling, Scar prefers some talking while they wait. “Something on your mind?”

Doc’s eyes narrow when he looks at Scar, who can’t help smiling back. “Do you think they will keep being friends?”

Scar tilts his head and turns to fully face the man. He glances at Jellie batting at a drawer below her, crouching and whacking her paw at the closed thing, making him giggle. He opens it for her, watching her pile herself into a ball of cuddly fur inside the drawer. If she fits, she sits!

“Scar.”

He gives Jellie a gentle head rub, curling one hand into a fist to roll his knuckle behind her ear, right in her favorite place. His other hand’s patting down her back fur, waiting for those eyes to become half-lidded before he moves his hands away, watching his dear companion fall asleep. He reminds himself not to forget she’s there, or else Impulse might take it as a prank.

In his defense, that’d be a pretty funny prank.

“Sorry, what were we talking about?” Scar asks, looking back at Doc, who he’s guessing is about to lose his patience. He’s never been great at reading people though, so who knows?

Doc just shakes his head at him. “How’d you figure out their feelings for each other?” he tries again. “The three musketeers.”

“They’re bad at hiding it,” Scar easily answers, blinking. “I thought you’d know how obvious they are.”

“Obvious?” Doc scoffs, arms crossed over his chest.

“Saying you’re into someone doesn’t mean you mean it,” Scar starts to explain, leaning against his seat. “Spending more than one world trying to confess is a whole other thing.”

Doc stares at him, raising an eyebrow. “Elaborate?”

“They’ve been together for, like, forever, right?” Scar doesn’t wait for an answer as he continues, clasping his hands together. “They already know each other super well, which blocks out any need to hide themselves! They’re confident their relationship’s secured tight enough so they don’t have to hide their feelings, but because of how secure they are together, there’s still doubts!”

With one foot against the wall behind him, Doc presses his lips in a fine line, looking like he’s thinking real hard about what Scar’s telling him. And he should!  Scar thinks, turning around to his cat, who’s long-gone away from her drawer. He looks around to see she’s made it on top of one of the upper cabinets, laying down comfortably. You sneaky lil’ kitty!

“So what will happen?” Doc finally asks.

Scar grins when he turns, again, to the creeper. “Shouldn’t you ask Joe that?”

“Even he can’t see the future of feelings or relationships,” Doc claims, and he’s right, Scar knows that. Joe’s said it maybe a billion times every time someone, mostly those off-world, ask for him to predict if their relationship’s going to end. He doesn’t know, no matter how omniscient he is. “I know no one can. I’m just curious, since you’re the only one who knows what you do.”

“I know what I do because I pay attention,” Scar tells him. “I know a thing or two about lost feelings with people I’m close to, so it’s only natural for me to help out where I can if I’m allowed to, right?”

Doc eyes him up and down. He’s not looking Scar in the eye though, not anymore, instead looking at where Jellie’s calmly watching from above. “Will romance between them even work?”

“Aren’t you the one telling our sheepy friend polyamory’s okay?” Scar asks, his smile changing to something he hopes is reassuring. “Why wouldn’t it work?”

“They’re not the same species, Scar.”

Scar’s smile fades into a smaller frown. Didn’t think I’d hear something like this again. Not here. “So? None of us here are the same species, but we don’t treat each other weird over it.”

“Forgive me for being suspicious,” Doc says, which Scar bites back a scowl at. Hear him out. He has a reason, right? Of course he does. “I’m not meaning to judge them or anyone for their relationships. But what if they don’t think it’s possible?”

He has a point. Even I’ve gone down that road.

Scar lets out a sigh, pressing his back further against his chair as he thinks. Family and internalized issues might do the trick, but I don’t think they’d give up on each other over those things. He reassures himself, tilting his head. ...But what’s stopping them from wanting nothing to do with each other if they open up like that?

“I don’t think they’d say or do things that imply anything if the real deal or even the concept bothers any of them,” is what Scar chooses to conclude with, nodding to himself. “Whatever they want together is up to them though. We’re kind of just along for the ride.”

“This feels like cat-and-mouse,” Doc huffs, glancing at the doorway into the hall. “Except we’re the cats waiting for the three oblivious mice to sort themselves out.”

Scar blinks at him before snorting. “Hold on, didn’t you try to kiss one of those ‘oblivious mice’ almost an hour ago? What happened there?”

“Just wanted to see if my suspicions with Impulse were right,” Doc waves away whatever Scar’s trying to imply, shaking his head. “Nothing else.”

“By kissing the guy he’s been trying to hit on for years and the same guy  who’s been trying to hit on him  for years?”

Doc rolls his eyes. “I asked if I could spend some time with the little sheep, and he stared into my soul like I asked for Zedaph’s hand in marriage.” He pauses, then he narrows his eyes. “Impulse’s been hitting on him for years?”

“And Tango,” Scar reminds, smiling at those unforgettable memories. “I don’t know a thing about dogs, but Cleo’s right in saying he’s pretty much their guard dog. I think she said he’s a golden retriever with husky vibes?”

And Doc’s looking at me like my wings grew. Before he can ask, Doc beats him to it, moving his foot off the wall and even leaning away from it. “What does that make the other two?”

“Charizard and a peacock,” Scar says, not missing a beat.

“You can’t think of a fire-related animal to compare Tango to?” Doc questions, chuckling at the absurd, yet reasonable, reply. “What about a lightning bug on sugar rush? Not quite fire, but almost.”

Scar considers it. While he’d also argue ‘on sugar rush’ sounds fitting for any of their three friends, it is close enough to be something they can compare Tango to. “Yeah, that works.”

Doc scratches his chin. “...Now what?”

“We wait, like they’ve been doing for years.”

────────────────────────

Impulse looks between his friends. None of them have said a word yet since he came in and sat on the floor, his feet pressed together, while they’re on the bed. He feels like he’s just in Xisuma’s office again, but with a different tone to it. This time, he’s in his own base, which is definitely more familiar, and he’s with two people he’s closest to.

“So, what’s up?” he asks, hoping one of them will talk now. He hates silence, can’t stand it, especially those awkward kinds. But they’re not awkward, which makes him shrug off some tension. They always have something to talk about, even in passing, so he just needs to sit and wait.

They give each other a sort of knowing glance that makes him nervous, hands on either side of him in case he needs to roll away and run from some kind of trap they’ve set up while he was out. He doesn’t think it’s payback, really, but with all the times Zedaph refused to eat anything he tried cooking for him while he’s been sick, it’s not totally off the table.

“We love you,” they say, and if he were a robot, he’s pretty sure he’d be short-circuiting.

Instead, clearing his throat and folding his hands in his lap, Impulse tilts his head back so he won’t have to meet their eyes. He thinks about the two bottles of soup he left on the bedside table, an extra precaution if it turns out Zedaph’s still sick, or if him or Tango get sick themselves. “Love you too. Did you guys break something, need help?”

He hates how quickly he looks down when Tango grabs his hand, gently squeezing it, which he doesn’t bother to pull away. “We love you, Impy.”

Impulse is sure they’re planning something now. He knows his Impyre better than they do, sure, but they could’ve done anything small while he went out. Or worse, this entire room could’ve been trapped with tripwire to send pie flying at his face - which is a thought he immediately shoots down at the realization of no tripwire on the floor or walls.

But he can’t help squinting at his friends. “I know, I love you too, but what did you guys wanna talk about?”

They know I won’t be upset if they need help, so why can’t they just tell me already? I don’t think there’s anything I’d judge them for either…

His eyes widen at the increase in intensity of Tango’s flames, but he relaxes, knowing the Netherborn’s just like that. It scares him sometimes, but Tango scares himself sometimes, and it’s better to.. relax, right? Relax and not stress out.

“You guys know I won’t judge whatever you wanna talk about, right?” he tries to remind them, in case they may have forgotten. “Even if you think it’s really, really strange, I’m always willing to hear you guys out on pretty much anything.”

Tango groans, dragging his hands down his face, pushing himself to lay his back against the bedpost. “I seriously want to kiss your face, dude.”

“I’m fine with kisses,” Impulse says, brows drawn together, trying to figure out what this is all about. If it’s just about kisses, he’s already told Zedaph he’s cool with it when he brought up Doc kissing him. “Guys, if that’s all this is about, you could’ve asked. I don’t have any issue with it.”

Zedaph leans closer to him until he’s able to bump their foreheads, steering clear of stabbing him with his horns. “We wanna kiss you because we really, genuinely, love you- and each other- as much romantically as we do platonically,” he slowly says, like he’s trying to explain something simple to a plant or.. something, whatever Impulse’s brain’s failing to connect here. “Like boyfriend-bestie levels of love, Impulse.”

“But we’re not boyfriends?” he chuckles, feeling more confused than he thought he was before.

They stare at him, and he wonders if he’s said something wrong.

“We WANT to be your boyfriends!” Tango huffs, throwing his hands in the air, having enough of this. He brushes his hands through his hair, trying to calm the flames burning up, wrapping his tail around his side to somewhat settle those flames. “You, me, Zed, doing whatever we wanna do, both as best friends and as boyfriends. Best boyfriends who are also best friends at once, simultaneously, whatever! Just for the love of the fucking Void, do you get what we’re trying to say?!”

“Like…” I’m sure if I asked if they’re messing with me, I'd get killed in my own room. “...You’re serious?”

Tango flicks his tail out and starts rolling up imaginary sleeves, getting onto his knees. “I’m murdering you-”

Zedaph holds his hand out, pressing it against Tango’s chest and holding him there. He gives Impulse an exasperated look. “You don’t have to believe us, but we are being serious. Are... Do you have those same feelings towards either of us?”

Impulse doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “Well, yeah, of course. I just-”

“You fucking WHAT-”

“Tango, let him speak!”

The Netherborn shoves the sheep’s arm away and lunges at the dwarven man, his flames burning bright as he pins Impulse’s wrists on either side of his head, brushing his knees against Impulse’s hips in a haphazard attempt to straddle him.

Impulse’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his sockets, and his throat feels dry, so he licks his lips and swallows .

Apparently his mind’s gone elsewhere, maybe his eyes too, awkwardly not trying to stare at his friend’s lips and focus anywhere else on Tango’s face. He’s also choosing to blame the heat rushing through his body as the flames from his friend.

“So you return our feelings,” he hears Zedaph say, but he can’t quite move to see their friend better. Not that he really needs to when the guy comes to his side, where he can see him better from a slightly off angle. “You- You return our feelings, right? I’m not hearing things?”

Impulse has to swallow again, reminding himself he needs saliva to actually make words come out better. “You heard me, Zed.”

Zedaph sits back, still in Impulse’s line of sight, but not as close and personal as the literal fire being on top of him. “I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

When Tango redirects his gaze to their friend, Impulse has to swallow, refusing to whine at the loss of eyes on him. He’s not needy, and he’s not about to prove Doc of all people right over the whole ‘jealousy’ accusation. “You spent forever trying to tell us how you feel and didn’t think you’d get this far?”

“As if you’re any better,” Zedaph teases, pulling a knee towards himself. “Did you think we’d ever get to this point?”

“When we’ve grown old and bony? Yeah.”

Zedaph eyes the quiet man on the floor, blinking at him before smiling. “What about you, Impulse?”

“Mhm,” is the only noise Impulse can make that he thinks has some sense to it. Pretty logical, very reasonable, right to the point even. He’s torn between one friend’s eyes and another friend’s lips, and honestly, he doesn’t think there’s a right or wrong answer here.

“I think you’re killing his brain cells,” Zedaph fails to whisper, nudging Tango’s shoulder. “Which is very on-brand for us, really.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tango barks back. He’s careful when he lifts his around to the side Zedaph’s sitting on, no longer pinning their friend down by his wrists. “You okay there, Impy? Still got one of your brain cells?”

While he’s mostly aware he can sit up now and move if he wants, he doesn’t, staying flat on his back and exhaling sharply through his nose. Impulse tries to shake his head at least, making very brief movement. “Nope.”

“What are we then?” Zedaph inquires, resting his chin on his knee, eyes flicking from one to the other. “We don’t have to rush a title or anything, or even title ourselves. I’m just curious.”

“BBFAFFs?” Tango suggests with a shrug. “Or if we wanna be obnoxious, BBTAEITS.”

Impulse might be trying to process a little bit of what just happened, but his hearing and brain still are active as ever. He squints at the acronyms. “What do both of those even mean?”

“Best Boyfriends And Friends Forever, which I guess makes more sense as BBAFFs, but whatever!” Tango waves the more technical correction away. “The other one is Better Boyfriends Than Anyone Else In The Server.”

“I’m down for BBAFFs,” Zedaph says.

Tango nods, “Both are good. Impy?”

“BBAFFs sounds easier to say,” Impulse supplies helpfully, closing his eyes, yawning. “Aaaand now I’m tired.”

“I’ll be middle spoon,” Tango says, and there’s no argument when he figures out how to slip into Impulse’s arms, curling his tail around his leg. He bats his eyes at Zedaph, who rolls his. “Zeddybear? C’mere, be our lil’ spoon?”

“Call me that again, I swear,” Zedaph whispers, probably thinking Impulse’s already fast asleep, which is fair, and he awkwardly lets Tango wrap his arms around his chest.

Impulse doesn’t know what happened after that, but he does remember feeling twice as much heat as he usually would, comfortably relaxing in the presence of his new and familiar BBAFFs.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you don’t share your clothes.”

Etho has his back against a wall, glancing back and forth between Cub and Mumbo, the latter puffing out his wings with some level of frustration.

“Like I told Scar, I do share them if I want them sharing my scent like that,” Mumbo argues.

“Translation,” Cleo chimes in. Even though she’s always been the one insisting she doesn’t get tired, something to do with already being way too dead to care enough to sleep, she’s sitting on the ground with her legs stretched out. “If they fuck, they’re in luck.”

Choosing to ignore that, Mumbo occupies his eyes and hands with his suit, one hand fumbling to straighten the already-fine tie while his other hand’s smoothing back already-neat hair. “Do you guys share your clothes?”

Cleo nods. “I let Joe borrow a crop top once. Never saw it again and we haven't talked about it since.”

“I used to hand out clothes I outgrew from my younger years, mostly lil’ things, the usual shiny things,” xB says, shrugging. “They were pass-downs from old family though, way before comin’ here. I haven’t shared my clothin’ with anyone since I got here.”

I’ve never shared my clothes before, have I?  Etho mulls over some of his memories, thinking if he’s ever shared even one piece of clothing with another Hermit, or even done so off-world. But his mind’s drawing blanks. “I can’t remember sharing any of mine,” he says. “But Bdubs has two pairs of my gloves.”

“And you didn’t give them to him?” Mumbo asks. “He just... took them?”

Etho wouldn’t say he’s really possessive over his clothes. Sure, he doesn’t exactly welcome anyone to break into his base and snatch whatever they want like a free-for-all, unless he’s getting diamonds out of it, but he’s more than fine to buy whatever he feels is missing. Nine times out of ten, his missing clothes come back clean and washed, as if they were never used before.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “I think he said it was payback for something, but I also think that means he wants something I’ve worn just to have on him. A souvenir, I guess?”

Mumbo sighs. “I think that’s what Scar wants to wear my suit for. I haven’t actually asked him, because I’m hoping he’ll drop it himself, but-”

“You said he’s been asking for months to wear one of your suits,” Cub points out, raising his eyebrow at the moth. “But you never even asked him why?”

Mumbo throws his hands up. “I was hoping he’d forget about it!”

“Just because he’s the least attentive person here doesn’t make him the most forgetful.”

xB nods along. “Once, I gave Jellie a Simba plush when I thought Scar was busy goin’ through his ender chest.”

“Where’d you get a Simba plush?” Mumbo asks.

“Stole it,” xB answers simply, waving away Mumbo’s confused follow-up questions that easily die down. “Anyway. Weeks after, I was goin’ with Scar to meet with X, and he said Jellie still loves the plush I gave her.”

Cleo raises her hand, putting it down when xB gives her an approving nod to speak. “Does this mean Scar actually can understand Jellie?”

“Xisuma can, right?” Etho asks, receiving murmurs and nods that confirm his thoughts. He hasn’t seen the admin speak to creatures outside of the Hermits and the occasional Void, the latter getting sworn at in Galactic often, but he’s well-aware of his friend’s multilingual skills.

“Pearl’s conspiracy club’s been theorizing Jellie’s from a whole ‘nother world,” Cleo informs with a glance around the group.

Etho becomes cautious of the duo over by one of the shops, crossing his arms and tilting his head toward their direction, believing he’s out of sight enough. “Speaking of theorizing…”

Tango’s trying to go through a shulker box to buy something, maybe rocket fuel or more materials for Decked Out 2. And he’d probably blip out of there in the next couple of seconds with an armful of things, if only Zedaph hadn’t decided to stand right on top of the box, letting it lift him once or twice before Tango actually notices.

The sheep’s peppering kisses pretty much anywhere he can reach on Tango’s face, cupping his boyfriend’s cheeks with the smallest squeeze, being impossibly gentle. Tango seems way more eager, if his tail wildly flicking is a sign, and he’s definitely putty in the other’s hands.

And from where Etho’s standing, he’s almost sure he’s caught teeth touching skin at least five times.

Cleo snorts when she notices the pair. She pops open her comms, and so do the rest of the group, including Etho. Must be the collective brain cell or something. “So that’s why the chat’s been what it was in the past hour.”

<ZombieCleo> dynamic 3 are on the roll

<MumboJumbo> ????

<ZombieCleo> mumbo please dont make me spell it further than that thanks

<BdoubleO100> its the SHITUATIONSHIP actually

<xBCrafted> isn’t it situationship

<GeminiTay> Have you seen them though?

<xBCrafted> point taken

<Stressmonster101> let them live <3

<Renthedog> i cant believe encouraging tango not to be a chicken got him boyfriends

<Renthedog> almost like he couldve just

<Renthedog> not been so chicken

<iJevin> And he got laid, good on you man

<Zedaph> ??????

<VintageBeef> Morning Zedaph!

<Keralis1> remember protection sweet face <3

<Zedaph> What??

<PearlescentMoon> What Keralis means is

<PearlescentMoon> Have health pots on hand when you bite people again ^^

Etho tucks his arm under his head as a cushion from the wall, sliding his comms into one of his pockets. “Good for them.”

Cleo tilts her head back and crosses her leg over the other, completely relaxed where she’s sitting. “Yeah. Just took years of being stubbornly determined for them to really get each other on the same level.”

“Think you’ll actually ask Scar why he’s so insistent on tryin’ on your suit now?” xB asks, pointedly watching the mustache man himself work out an answer for this. Etho swears he sees the mustache twitch. “Maybe he’s been into you for years and thinks you’re smart enough to get his hint.”

Cub raises an eyebrow at the thought, but whatever’s lighting his eyes simmers down when he meets Mumbo’s, which are wide and terrified in case as if Cub’s going to kill him and xB for that. He just shrugs though. “Anything’s possible, Mumbo.”

Mumbo does that thing where his wings flutter and his cheeks fill with air. Redstone dust flicks off his wings, most of it gathering on the ground, other parts attaching themselves to the rest of the group. Etho has to comb his fingers through his hair to pinch some away.

“He’s just stubborn,” Mumbo says, his words a little quieter, hesitant even. He’s not looking any of them in the eye, but with zero deduction skills, Etho realizes his gaze fell on the pair casually kissing in front of some shop.

“And so are you,” he points out. He can’t help but grin at the offended little gasp his moth friend reacts with, nor his attempt at glaring. “Just talk to Scar, Mumbo. If the Best-Boyfs can do it, so can you.”

He looks down to Cleo squinting at him. “Best-Boyfs?”

“It’s the shorter version of what they’re callin’ themselves,” xB helpfully answers for Etho, who gives him a nod in thanks, glad someone gets it. He’ll have to write down their acronym somewhere if he doesn’t remember later. xB redirects the conversation, just a smidge, back to their moth friend. “Throwin’ my two-cents in to say, good luck. Scar’s horribly oblivious and inattentive.”

Mumbo huffs at him and spreads his wings. “I’ll prove you lot wrong, alright?” he insists, his pitch rising. “And I will get him to drop it!” are his final words before he flees the scene, and Etho internally wishes him luck on that quest.

Etho looks at xB. “So, how’s it feel losing fifteen diamonds in a bet?”

xB, with all the love in his little ocean-dwelling heart, flips him off with both hands. And Etho laughs.

────────────────────────

“DOC! I HAVE-”

“I am right here, Bdubs.”

Bdubs spins around while squinting, before eventually spotting his creeper friend in the ocean, waving like the loser he is. He shakes his head and walks closer to the shoreline, thanking the Void that Doc gets the hint and does the same. “What are you doing all the way out there?”

Doc steps out of the water absolutely soaked, dripping wet like the moron he is. Up close, Bdubs can practically smell burnt salt on his fur. It’s gross, especially because it’s that combination but watered down , and he pulls away with his nose scrunched.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t do that,” Doc starts to say, and Bdubs takes a decent three steps back, deciding that’s good enough for the creeper’s scent to stay in his little area. “I just came out here to wash off the redstone dust on me. That’s all.”

“Seriously?” Bdubs doesn’t believe that. Doc’s base has a shower installed like everyone else’s, mostly everyone else’s, so why would he bother coming to an entire ocean just to wash his shit off? “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

Doc points behind him, and Bdubs quickly looks over his shoulder. His knees bend and spread apart, lining them up with his shoulders, and he has his fists ready in case he’s about to get attacked.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, Z?”

Bdubs brings his arms down when he fully turns around. He looks at Doc, who shrugs at him and continues watching the scenario before them, so Bdubs looks forward again.

Zedaph’s walking towards the shore, an even distance away from where Bdubs and Doc are standing, beaches are large, and he’s pulling Impulse along by both hands.

“I am more than sure!” the sheep claims. He stops right before a small wave pats the sandy surface, turning to face his partner. “Research shows that sheep, full sheep, the baah-baah fellas, can swim. Since I’m a hybrid, I want to know if  I  have those instincts.”

Impulse has a stupid glint in his eyes that gives Bdubs a sickening feeling. It’s sweet, yeah, but it’s going to take a LONG time for him to get used to how couple-y his friends are. “I don’t doubt you like, at all, hun, but are you sure you’ve got this? I thought sheep have to learn to swim, kinda like dogs.”

Bdubs pokes Doc’s arm enough times for the guy to glare at him. “What?” he hisses quietly.

“Are we about to watch them fucking drown?” Bdubs asks, half-whispering. It’s not his fault being quiet never fit him! “Should we have a hoop thing to save them with?”

They stare at each other for a silent ten seconds before Doc sighs, messing with Bdubs’ hair, ignoring his friend’s protests and swatting. “Impulse can swim, I know that much. Zed might drown though.”

Bdubs crosses his arms and looks back to the couple, who send him a punch to the gut when he looks over.

Zedaph’s on the tips of his hooves, if that’s even possible, tilting his head up while Impulse has leaned down for him. Bdubs can’t tell who’s leading the dance between their lips, but he immediately turns away with his fingers in his ears, not wanting to physically hear the sounds they’re making.

“Can we move down there or something?!” Bdubs groans. He doesn’t wait for an answer when he starts speed-walking further away from the duo, who pay no mind, because obviously they’re too busy sucking faces to notice or care.

He hears Doc laugh at his expense while following him. What a dick. “You wish you and Etho were that passionate, hm?” he teases.

Bdubs turns and forcefully stomps on Doc’s foot, then he twists around and keeps walking, slightly faster. “Say anything to Etho, and I’m revoking your hourly Bdubs time.”

Doc bats his eyes, or does his best attempt, showing off the worst pout Bdubs has ever had to witness against his will. “Aw. How ever shall I live without hourly Bdubs time?”

Generously, Bdubs stomps on Doc’s other foot and books it down the sandy plains. He kicks up some back at his friend, who curses at him for it, forgetting all ill feelings in the moment.

────────────────────────

Joe finishes counting the last of False’s diamonds that she laid out on the table for him, Ren and Gem to inspect. Or really, he’s the one inspecting, since he counted each one to confirm it’s the right amount, while their friends are just staring in shock at the amount.

“Yep,” Joe says, nodding to himself when he steps back, so the others can look at them for themselves. “That’s 41 diamonds total.”

“I told you!” False’s wings flick out in an excited flutter, grinning at the two for doubting her claims. It might not be a full stack, but diamonds are diamonds and Hermits are Hermits.

“And you got all these from a bet against four other Hermits?” Ren asks her, his tail swishing around at the sight. Did he forget he used to rule one of the worlds? Isn’t that better than almost a full stack of diamonds?

False gives him a nod to confirm. “Mmhm! Pearl stated the rules upfront, never said  later  wages can’t be made by people who haven’t participated from the start, and I may have gotten some inside information to help me out.” She glances between the three of them before sighing, smiling contently. “I think most of it’s getting boxed for later uses, emergencies maybe, and the others are on-hand for buying necessities.”

Ren salutes to her. His tail’s still moving, but it seems that he’s starting to chill now. “Spoken like a true, responsible being, Falsie.”

Joe looks over the diamonds, his brows drawn together in thought. I could be harborin’ diamonds myself if I made wagers on bets . He considers the thought for about two seconds before doubting it. Omniscience goes against all rules that make these things fair.

If Players were made to be omniscient, then maybe the playing ground would be fair. But they weren’t.

Speaking of omniscience, Joe looks up to a door and darkness everywhere else. His friends aren’t around, or he just can’t see them, and it’s a feeling that still shocks him no matter how many times this happens. He’s no longer an observer anymore, but for some reason, his omniscience still toys with him from time-to-time as if he were.

He hasn’t figured it out yet, nor has he had enough time to, with everything that’s been happening on the server. He’s set it as a side-priority until he’s absolutely done with all server things, off-world things, and the like.

So for now, with his questionable observer skills set aside, Joe steps towards the door. It’s a typical wooden one made of oak, the type the first Players used to build with. Players still use them, sure, but there’s something about older materials that feels warm to him.

Minutes pass before Joe focuses on the design of the door. And, what should have been the most obvious bit when he first saw it, is the fact it doesn’t have a handle or knob to jiggle open.

“How do you expect me to open this?” Joe asks the endless space, looking around. He half-expects something to scream at him, even if it doesn’t answer his question. He knows things are listening and watching. He’d just appreciate outright confirmation and, well, evidence.

He closes his eyes and sticks his arms out. Slowly, he begins to walk around the space, trying to keep his feet from lifting off the ground. He’s dragging them as he moves. If he’s lucky, which isn’t as likely as one may think it is, the things out there putting him here will grow bored and let him get back to his life.

Patience never sits well with him. So he opens his eyes, glances around for the door, and he takes this as the best opportunity to throw himself into the door.

It’s surprising when this actually works.

Joe pats his head, neck, shoulders, chest, arms, and his legs for any splinters. He pulls out three slices of oak that pricked into his ankle, stinging his skin, before he throws them into the…

Well, he’s not in complete darkness anymore.

He throws the pieces behind him, over his shoulder and through the space leading back to endless nothingness. The area he’s standing in after breaking the door, the feeling making his body thrum, which he’s choosing to believe is a good thing, is somebody’s base.

When he hears a lamp shatter somewhere close by, Joe stays right where he is, knowing better than to check on broken objects especially when his brain’s working elsewhere. So he waits, waiting and waiting for something to happen.

First thing he expects are two Hermits’ twirling into the room as one unit. It’d probably be endearing if they were holding hands or dancing, something Players think is ‘sweet’ and ‘wholesome’. But they’re not.

The two-person unit crashes into the wall across from where Joe’s standing, making him wince despite expecting it. He doesn’t see who they are, not that it’s hard to deduce, but rather, they appear to him as silhouettes. Either he’s catching sleep deprivation in a really strange way, or the part of him with all-knowing abilities isn’t letting him have visuals here.

Which, again, he doesn’t even need to figure out the pair before him are two people he’s familiar enough with. He knows they’re Hermits , after all.

The horned silhouette has his back against the wall and head slightly tilted up, allowing his partnered figure to lean forward, leaving shadow-printed kisses all over the former’s throat. It’s not slow and passionate, innocently passionate anyway. Rather, it’s happening quickly, faster than Joe can process what’s happening.

Joe notes the pattern in the way they move. One silhouette’s jumpy, has a pep in his step, going all out from kissing his lover’s neck to sucking on a particular spot that’s healing. Other one’s passionate and aggressive, a fine combination if used properly with safety precautions in mind, and he’s gone from being pinned against the wall to reversing the roles.

And he reappears inside False’s base. Her diamonds aren’t on the table anymore, no longer for display, so she must’ve sealed them already. Ren’s licking his face, making Joe narrow his eyes so his friend doesn’t take his eye out somehow with his frantic lapping.

Gem’s beside him too, like False is. Gem has a bottle of tea in her hand. By the scent of it that barely reaches his nose, Joe figures it’s one of Stress’ homemade kinds. Gem must’ve bought it or made it with her at some point, recently, since it’s still fresh.

“Down,” he mumbles, shoving his hand in Ren’s face and slowly pushing him away. He’ll air-dry the saliva.

“What happened?” Gem’s the first to speak, passing him the tea bottle, which he appreciatively nods at when he takes it. “We were going to go out and celebrate False’s win, then you disappeared.”

So my body didn’t stay here this time.  Joe keeps that in mind. He’s had various experiences when his brain decides to blip him somewhere. Sometimes his body disappears too, but other times, his body stays right where it is until he’s back.

“I saw things only I can know,” is all he decides to tell them.

────────────────────────

Scar’s been trying to find Jellie for days. Okay, maybe it’s been technically two days, but he thought she would’ve come back before that! He knows she’s a little explorer, made of total curiosity in her feline bones, but that’s no reason to have him worry she’s gotten stuck in a chest or something!

His thoughts pop when Iskall puts his hand on Scar’s shoulder. “When’s the last time you saw her, Scar?”

Hypno picks up a barrel, flips it, and starts shaking it violently. Nothing but apples, apples, and one stack of bread fall out of it. No sign of his feline friend.

Scar closes his eyes and tries to remember where he’s been today.

He’s gone to Bdubs’ monolith to ask for cookies, only to find he wasn’t even there so he took some cookies himself, and he’s been around the beautiful Astral Tree to meet Joe for some ‘fair’ trading.

Both times, as far as he knows, Jellie was with him!

He huffs and opens his eyes, pouting at the first cloud he looks up at. He knows she can’t be in any danger right now, she’s Jellie after all, the greatest feline the server’s ever seen! And he trusts the other Hermits enough to feel somewhat better. Just a little.

“Two days ago,” Scar finally answers, refueling his stack of rockets, wings out. “I’m gonna try and spot her overhead.”

Iskall nods at him. He’s holding his communicator, already typing. “I’m DMing Ren and Wels. Ren has a better tracker of a nose than any of us, and Wels is the best defense if Jellie’s in any trouble.”

“She’s not in trouble!” Scar exclaims. He knows there are monsters roaming the night, hiding in caves, and those damn awful other ways to get totally crushed, but Jellie’s strong! She’s just as strong as he is, and he’s the strongest HotGuy anyone has to offer. The only  HotGuy anyone, namely himself, has to offer!

Hypno watches him, so Scar stares back, looking between him and Iskall. “I asked Beef if he saw her, and he said she was with Cleo last time he met up with her.”

“To Cleo we go!” Scar gives his wings a little flap, lifting himself off the ground with his rockets powering his body. He blinks and looks at Hypno, head tilted. “Where is she?”

Hypno holds up his communicator for Scar to see for himself.

After rereading it a few more times, Scar gives a nod and starts rapidly batting the air with his wings, getting ready. “To Cleo we-”

“SCAR!”

Scar pouts, gently dropping to the ground with his wings held still. He perks up when he sees Grian running towards him with a small chest held on his head. “Gri?”

The avian wraps his wings around himself to shove through Hypno and Iskall, who move aside for him. He shifts his wings aside and pops open the chest, a familiar furry face poking right out.

“Jellie!” Scar squeals. He opens his arms for her to leap into, but she sinks back into the chest with a quiet mew. So he puts his arms down, pouting again. “Where was she?”

Grian hands him the chest with a huff. “She was in the Entity, I don’t know why, and I got her out of there and came looking for you!”

Scar holds the chest in his lap, angling his other arm to be able to pet his feline companion. “Well thank you very much then.”

Iskall, comms in hand, widens his eyes in disbelief. “I can’t believe it.”

Hypno leans against him, looking over his shoulder, squinting. “What?”

“Cub said he passed Ren, who saw xB, who talked with Bdubs, who says he saw Jevin, who then saw-”

Grian, who’s standing to the other side of Iskall, shakes his shoulder a little. “Spill, spill!”

Iskall takes a sharp inhale, nods, and tries again. “A lot of Hermits saw each other, and the conclusion is, Stress just messaged me that the mushers are at EnchanTea for a date.”

“Aww,” Scar coos, cupping his cheeks in his palms. “Do any of you know if she lets animal companions in? I wanna bring Jellie in for tea-tasting!”

Iskall jabs his thumb towards Grian. “She’s never had a problem with him.”

Grian thwacks his wing at Iskall’s face, blocking it from his sight by holding it there, then he looks at Scar. Total innocence, never done a single thing wrong in his war-craving life. “I’m sure if she didn’t want your cat in, Jellie wouldn’t be sneaking in there all the time.”

Scar blinks in surprise, looking at his feline friend. Jellie’s awake now, licking her chest fluff, barely giving him or their friends any mind. He looks up. “Then I propose all five of us, yes that means Jellie too, have some us-time with some tea!” He falls silent for a while, glancing between them. “If you’re all free.”

Iskall coughs out a few feathers as he pushes Grian’s wing away, who folds it away from him. “I have two more projects to finish, then I’ll be free.”

Grian nods. “I have to do something in the Entity first.”

Hypno gives them an eyebrow raise before rolling his eyes. “Guess we’ll meet you two at EnchanTea when you’re done.”

Scar quickly claps in agreement. He glances to make sure Jellie’s not falling asleep and about to be woken by his noises, sighing in relief when she’s just staring up at him with those adorable eyes of goodness. He rechecks his pack of fireworks before floating, wings fluttering behind him. “We’re off to see the Tea Queen, the wonderful Tea Queen alive!”

────────────────────────

If he thought work wouldn’t get done as soon as he hoped, he would’ve asked for a little more help from more Hermits. But no, the friends who happily offered to help him out insisted they’d get the job done. And he believed them! Of course he did, who couldn’t give them a try at least?

He loves all of his friends from the bottom of his heart, he really does. It’s just that sometimes, he feels like squeezing them to death in a really tight hug.

Beef walks over to the sheep pen he left Impulse in charge with. He would’ve let Zedaph do it if the guy didn’t mention something about telling Mumbo and Scar how sheeps ‘find mates’. That’s one discussion Beef would like to not touch upon in the near future and present.

“How’s sheep work going for you?” he asks, looking over his friend’s shoulder into the pen. Some of them are gathering in front of the raised feeder Beef set up for them, eating away at hay and other grains dropping into their trough. He lights up at the few lambs snuggling against their siblings or parents, rolled onto one side with one other lamb resting on their body.

“So I added new food to the feeder,” Impulse begins, fairly proud of the work he’s done so far. “I added some nests, is that what they’re called?, since there’s been more baby sheep coming along. And I made sure all of them have name tags so they don’t just, uh, vanish!”

Beef looks over the flock of sheep with mirth. Raising animals has always been his little utopia since he was younger. Now that he’s friends with many amazing new animals and hybrids, his passion’s gone up by a lot!

So he gives Impulse a pat on the back for his effort, and he moves on to the chicken coop.

“Jev?” Beef calls out, not immediately spotting the slime man when he goes over. The fences haven’t broken, and the chickens seem to be happily clucking about, running around freely without much care in the world.

Then his eyes widen when Jevin comes back running from an aggressively frustrated rooster. And as Beef should’ve expected, his poor friend hides right behind him, pointing at the loud bird.

“It just tried to kill me!” Jevin tells him. He’s gripping tight to Beef’s shoulders, like he’s more than willing to hop his back if the rooster comes close.

Beef shakes his head at him before spreading his arms out, flapping them to mimic what the rooster’s doing, but with a larger wingspan. Jevin’s still clinging to him as he walks towards the squawking bird, who’s flapping just as hard back at him. They’re both in the same field now, aren’t they?

“Open a fence for this lil’ guy, please,” he whispers over his shoulder to Jevin, who takes a few seconds to process the task before letting go of him to do as told. Beef goes around the rooster, slowly, flapping twice as much as they’re doing. I need to get them back in the pen.

Jevin breaks off both sides of a fence before lifting it over the spot, ready to replace it. Beef focuses on intimidating the rooster, shifting his pace from incredibly slow to slightly growing faster. They’re not flapping back at him anymore, not the way they were trying to do against Jevin, and they glare at the ground as they run right back into the pen.

Beef grabs the fence from his friend and fixes it in place, huffing. He turns to Jevin. “Did they hurt you?”

Jevin shakes his head. “No, thank fucking hell it didn’t. I think I would’ve accidentally killed it if it did.”

“Accidentally…” Beef mutters. “Did you pick up any hens near them at all?” he asks, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side. “Just out of curiosity.”

Jevin nods, and Beef internally bangs his head into a wall. He’s getting that I-want-to-bear-hug-my-friends-to-death  feeling again. “I just picked it up for a second because it got stuck upside down, but I think it was just sleeping. Then that rooster fucking ran at me!”

“I was going to guess they were maturing through puberty and attacked you because of that,” Beef says, honestly. “But in your case, they thought you were bringing the hen harm, so they attacked you in defense.”

“Fuck roosters,” Jevin groans, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands.

Beef glances to the next pen, the one of cows he let Zedaph take charge for, only to see him and  his boyfriend failing to kiss each other. And by ‘failing’, one goes in to give a kiss, and the other moves in any way so they miss. In short, his friends are a headache that he both loves and gently despises.

“I think I’ll wrangle up Falsie and some others to finish up here…” Beef half-whispers. He’s not planning on interrupting the couple with whatever they’re doing, so he gives Jevin a light shove their way. “Mind taking those two away? Thanks.”

“Not a fan of PDA?” Jevin whispers back, standing still and looking at Beef.

“Oh, I have nothing against that,” Beef answers coolly, shaking his head. “I just prefer to keep this a calm, quiet place for the animals. Those two?” He points to their friends, who are very much too busy to notice them. “They’re the opposite of my goal.”

Jevin gives him a nod, understanding what he means, and he starts walking to them. “Right. I’ll get them out of your hair, Mister Farmer.” 

────────────────────────

“I still don’t know how you lost the bet and still gained something.”

Pearl shakes out her fifteen diamonds from a shulker box, a proper place for her win, out onto the admin’s desk. They’re in his obsidian cube thing because he felt it’s safer for her to show the diamonds between a smaller group of three, including himself, than showing wealth to some particularly grabby Hermits.

Not that any of them aren’t grabby themselves.

“It’s called luck , X,” Pearl easily replies, clicking her tongue, eyeing her newly earned possessions. “I just know how to twist things my way, you know? All fair, no breaking my own rules, so don’t worry.”

Xisuma blinks at her and watches her pile the diamonds back into the box for safekeeping. “And who actually won the bet?”

“Falsie did!” Pearl huffs. She’s happy her friend won, especially since she joined in the betting squad after they’d met in Impulse’s shop. False told her she had it all figured out, stuff Pearl took as smart talk she’s too lost to get, but apparently she was right.

Wels’ attention drifts from the box Pearl seals away to her inventory, so he ends up looking towards one of the walls instead. Not that it’s really interesting, unlike maybe crying obsidian with its little glow cracks. “How did she guess Zedaph bit him?”

Pearl threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t know! I asked her, believe me, I asked her, and she just said it was all connected or something! I think she’s magic!”

Crossing his arms, the knight shakes his head. “I’m still not over how long it’s been for them to get their... feelings together.”

Keralis hums thoughtfully. Pearl almost forgot he’s been here by how quiet he’s being, and she has to physically look his way to make sure he’s there. “I’m happy for them. In the ocean, you are very lucky to have such a strong bond. Even one with love!”

“I can relate to that, sort of?” Wels shrugs. He leans against one of the walls, tilting his head back, enough for his helmet to clunk when it touches the obsidian. “Knights can marry if we’re permitted and do it how our ruler wants us to marry. No commoners, and it’s entirely  disrespectful to ask for a ruler’s hand in marriage.”

Starting to fan herself, Pearl sighs and bats her eyes, trying her best to play a straight face. “Gosh. I’d be charmed to marry a ruler.”

Xisuma sends her a glance of nothing but curious confusion, her favorite combination of emotions. He tilts his head when he asks, “Didn’t you last say marriage isn’t your cup of tea?”

Pearl hurriedly dismisses the assumption, which yeah, she did tell him and other Hermits a lot before, waving a hand in the air. “Psshhh, no. I think you’re a little forgetful.”

Keralis immediately defends her, feigning disappointment when he shakes his head at their friend. “People change, Shashwam.”

Really hope he’s not gonna ask for a diamond for defending me.

Some beeps emit from each of their communicators. While Xisuma has easier access through his helmet, Pearl and Keralis have to get out their hands-on ones to see the chat.

{Zedaph} burned to death.

{impulseSV} burned to death.

Pearl can’t help the laugh she lets out, nor the stupidly wide grin on her face. In her defense, she and anyone with one working brain cell knew this would happen eventually!

<PearlescentMoon> L

<Mumbo> Oh dear

<falsesymmetry> Do we wanna know what happened??

<GeminiTay> If it was what I think it was </3

<Etho> L in the chat?

<joehillssays> That’s my cue to go sleep