#Anyway go watch ZombieCleo please

[myrathefarmer]

Happy two years to drawing Cleo! 💖

[frozenjokes]

cubfan135 and zombiecleo tell mumbo jumbo to kill himself

please refer to ao3 for a more detailed tw regarding (temporary, unrelated to mental health) suicide

LOOP N4

With Scar being borderline unbearable for such a long amount of time, Cub was learning to get around him by creating fake tasks that absolutely needed to be done with utmost haste by only Scar.

Scar wanted to be helpful, but he had a way a being helpful that made both Cub and Cleo want to snap his neck, so it was generally unproductive to say the least. Neither of them wanted to talk to Scar about it; Cub would rather just murder Scar and Cleo seemed convinced this was a passing phase. While the intensity of Scar’s overbearing nature did feel as though it was beginning to lessen, he was still clingy and edgy and a pain in the ass 95% of the time. But they were stuck with him, no way out of it, so they had to make due. Cleo was convinced that if they managed not to dismember Scar for long enough, he would eventually calm down, and while Cub was not used to exercising so much self control, Cleo was smarter than him about these kinds of things.

So that was that. Cub would entertain himself crafting wild goose chases for Scar to go on (which, admittedly, was quite a bit of fun), and Cub and Cleo would bide their time as they continued their walkthrough, working through the necessities. Currently they were in the control room, combing the entire thing for potential traps and noting down possible clues for later, each in their own separate sphere, unspeaking. Cub missed these comfortable silences between them; Scar wasn’t the most talkative of guys in his current state of mind, but he had a way of ruining the air of a room, turning the quiet to static with those wild, neurotic eyes. Especially now. Especially now. Cub hoped he got better soon, he really had trouble watching what he said. God knows he was never bringing up food in front of Scar ever again.

But it was fine. It was fine. Time is damn good medicine, and soon enough Scar would stop fretting over his planet and that horrid phone call he’d shared with his folks.

Then the main screen lit up. Someone was.. someone was calling.

The action legitimately startled Cub; no one called, EVER, he and Cleo only had one opportunity to do so a week, and it made no sense for that call to come from the outside. Most of their time was spent in the safe room; they wouldn’t even know if someone was trying to reach them. Better to say what you have to say when the prisoners were ready to speak to you anyway; they both had their fair share of bad days, even if Cleo rarely missed a call home. Cub rarely bothered, so she could take advantage of his time most weeks.

Cleo answered it before Cub had finished processing. The black and white cat from before; Scar’s same species, stared back at them, equally baffled looking.

“Hello? Oh.. Is this a bad time? Is Scar around, do you know? I wanted to talk to him, I think- Oh, I’m being rude, aren’t I.. Mumbo. I’m Mumbo. You can understand me, right? Oh dear, maybe not. You’re looking at me like your can’t understand me. Oh goodness.” Mumbo turned suddenly, looking offscreen, “What?”

Someone out of frame spoke.

“There’s subtitles, oh, well good. Do.. are there subtitles on our end? Can they speak to me?” … “..No..? Ah, well that’s probably okay. Listen-“

Cleo hung up, rigid. “Scar can’t know.” Stiffly, Cub nodded. This could only be a bad thing; Scar’s folks calling him just to chew him out would reset all the progress they’d made! That couldn’t happen. Cub could not endure any more Crazy Eyes Scar than absolutely necessary.

And then the call sounded again. Cleo answered and hung up, immediately. Again, Mumbo called.

“How many damn calls is Scar allowed!?” they shrieked, and Cub felt a similar panic bubbling in his chest, whipping his head towards the two doors.

“I sent him away twenty minutes ago- He’ll be back soon-“

“No.” When Mumbo called a fourth time, Cleo answered, hissing, “Stop calling you twerpy shitass motherfucker! Get out of here! Shut up!”

“Oh dear..” Mumbo scratched the back of his ears, shifting, “You’re angry.. I guess I understand, but I really-“

“No-!” Cub started, an attempt to continue what Cleo had done, but he hadn’t planned for this, he had no pre-written insults handy. Well, there were always the classics. “Die. Die. Kill yourself. Die. Kill yourself kill yourself die die die.”

“Yeah!” Cleo rallied, making Cub feel a modicum less pathetic. “Kill yourself! Get out of here! We don’t want you here!”

“I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you-“

Cleo laughed at that, but it didn’t look like Mumbo could tell, sufficiently mortified despite not knowing what either of them were saying.

“Listen, please, I know you don’t like me, I saw you when I- when Scar and I talked, but I just want to smooth things out with him, alright? He’s not- will you stop it with the noise-“ Mumbo snapped at Cub, whose onslaught hadn’t stopped, and was now being encouraged to continue, “He’s not a bad guy and I- I just need to talk to him.”

Cleo snapped their fingers in Cub’s face, shutting him up. “This isn’t working. We don’t have time to pray this stops, so we’ll have to nip this bud at the source.” They stopped, side eyeing the screen, “Maybe this guy’ll get the message then.”

“Kill Scar you mean? Damn. This was a good run so far.”

“Don’t act like you mind it,” Cleo scoffed, and as always she was correct.

Cub continued without acknowledgment. “Should one of us stay? One of us go look for him? Either way we’ll be able to stop him before he sees too much.”

“No.” Cleo glanced up at Mumbo, who was looking distressed by how clear it was neither of them were paying any attention to him. “We both wait here, one of us by each door. Make the first shot count, then unload your gun on him, really make it graphic. Then, if he’s still around, he can watch us kill ourselves. No one will call back after that.”

“Shit. That’s awesome. This guy’s about to have his damn life ruined.”

Cleo preened. “That’s the hope. Let’s just make sure he doesn’t hang up prematurely.” She turned to an increasingly frustrated looking Mumbo as she backed toward the left door, and Cub went to the right, not bothering to lend Mumbo any sort of attention.

“I- Are you leaving?” There was distress there, Mumbo’s ears pinned and four hands anxiously fidgeting. “Please don’t go, I really want to work this out. Even if- Even if you don’t cooperate, if he’s busy or sleeping or you just won’t retrieve him just.. Tell him he’s not stupid. You don’t even have to say it was from me, just tell him he’s not- Scar isn’t stupid. He thinks he is, and Wastes knows he’s got a whole other host of problems but he’s- he’s not stupid. I said it and I really- I wish I hadn’t, please tell him he’s not stupid.” Mumbo drew two paws over his ears and down his face, shaking his head, “He isn’t even selfish, that’s the thing! Not any more than the rest of us!”

Mumbo started to pace, “He’s not selfish! He’s not! He’s just negligent! Criminally negligent! I want to call him lazy but I don’t even know if that’s true he just- argh! If he doesn’t care about something it isn’t happening! Do you know how many problems that causes? That’s why we’re angry! But I’m not- I’m not even angry anymore, it just bothers me to know that he thinks he’s stupid when intelligence has nothing to do with the actual problem! But that’s- that’s not relevant right now. He’s going to be gone for years, and we can work it through when he’s home. He knows he fucked up. He knows. Being unable to continue working is punishment enough I’m sure, it might even kick his ass into gear and..”

Mumbo sighed, long and hard. “It wasn’t just his fault. As much as Grian wants to believe it, that’s just not true. I should have stuck to my guns. I let him push on, I doubted myself. I recognized that ship. I knew what to look for, humans make them all the same for a reason. I just.. I don’t know. You get desperate. Truly, if anyone was going to kill and extract human prisoners from a ship like that, I think it’d probably be Scar. Isn’t that crazy? Grian thinks so. He’s just angry. Bitter. Hu-“ Mumbo cut himself off with a harsh shake of his head. “Stupid. Can’t let anything go. I think that’s stupidity, I’ll tell you.”

“Damn,” Cub mumbled, half absently, “Y’know, I don’t actually think this guy is that much of an asshole. Not great, but.”

Cleo shrugged. “Shame. Too bad he’s gonna get a lot to think about in a minute.”

“Do you feel bad?”

Cleo scoffed. “Like, guilty? No. I don’t care what this guy’s intentions are, I am not risking any more horrorshow Scar than necessary.” They eyed him, almost teasingly. “Do you feel bad?”

“Oh, no. I was just curious.” And that was true. True enough that when Cleo made a skeptical hmm noise, Cub bristled, though they waved him off.

“I believe you. God knows I’m stunted enough to do something like this and get a full night’s sleep after.”

“I find it hard to care about other people,” Cub mumbled, and the words came so completely out of nowhere that it startled him internally.

“I know,” Cleo didn’t miss a beat, and Cub believed them, it frightened him a little that he could believe that they knew, even when this was something he’d failed to consider about himself before, at least enough to bring it to words. “Does that bother you?” The question was gentle, so kind it ached.

“I don’t know.”

Cub was suddenly aware of Mumbo’s silence, he was watching them, and there was a longing there, like he could tell they were deliberating about something and just hoping things would turn out in his favor.

And the the right door started to open, Cub’s door, and he shot Scar twice in the head, nearly point blank to the point where there was very little left to shoot, and then, catching Scar as he fell, unloaded the rest of the bullets into Scar’s chest, blood and viscera flying back into Cub’s face. Vaguely, he was aware of a screech from the speakers and he dropped Scar’s body, the sound of it hitting the floor loud and wet and surely audible over the connection. He looked up. He felt the muzzle of Cleo’s gun against his head. He never found out if Mumbo stayed to witness her bring it to her own chin.

LOOP N4 B

There was not much to say until Scar arrived, ear moving every which direction, whiskers twitching, wary and nervous, reasonably. Cub was certain Scar had no idea what had happened, dead too quickly.

“Uh..” Maybe Scar was put off by the quiet, by Cub and Cleo still in bed, neither moving to stand. “What happened? Did I trigger something?”

“Nope. Cleo tripped.” Cub wasn’t sure why he’d spoken, he hadn’t come up with a lie.

“What?” Scar said, quickly parroted by an offended Cleo.

“What? Please Cub, enlighten us on what happened.” Ah, that wasn’t good. Cub would bet anything Cleo had thought up a cover story, they were smart like that, but maybe Cub was a little on edge and had piped up without thinking. Wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Uh. Cleo tripped and the ship blew up.”

“Again?” Scar shrieked, not hearing Cleo snort behind him, “But I- I checked all the tiles! You told me to check! None of them had any symbols or anything! Unless I- oh, I must have missed one or got distracted or-“

“No.” Cub cut him off, “Button. In the control room. Self destruct button. We knew it was there but you were gone when we found it. Forgot to tell you. Cleo tripped and hit it. Her fault.”

“Okay, Cub-“ Cleo growled, speaking in the type of way that told Cub his life was going to be over very soon, “You know, it’s true though, I’ve been feeling awfully clumsy lately.” Cleo drew their gun, Cub looking on mildly.

“Man. Hope your aim is better with vertigo than without.” Seven shots being fired in quick succession made it so aim was not so big of an issue. And the eighth shot from Scar made it so that bleeding out and/or many of the other complications being shot brought forth were not of any concern.

Cleo frowned. That didn't feel good. They huffed to themself, shaking their head. Stupid. Tossing their gun over their shoulder, they flopped back down in bed, stewing. She wasn’t sure why she was so pissed off, and she didn’t like to be. She liked a lot less that her first reaction to this kind of anger was to empty her gun into the nearest perpetrator, but she supposed that was a problem for Future Cleo. It would be nice if fires like this didn’t burn so hot so fast.. they didn’t used to.

Out of all the things Cleo was prepared to happen to them when they were shipped off to space, rage problems weren’t one of them. They used to be so patient. They were a teacher, they taught kids. They liked kids. Even with pain, and they’d known pain, it never really made her angry, not to this extreme. She wasn’t- she wasn’t an angry person. Not before. Now, just about anything could set her off.

“I don’t like when you guys do that..” Scar. Oh, and that pissed her off.

“Check back in when you’ve lived alone with him for five years, I’ll be more open to criticism.”

Scar backed down. Cleo was facing the other way, she didn’t see or hear him do anything, but she knew, she’d been around him long enough to tell. In their mind’s eye, they could see the way Scar’s ear turned, brow creased, tail lowered, and they didn’t like that. They didn’t want that. They weren’t used to someone who didn’t fight back.

“Sorry,” she said, gruffer than she’d intended. “I just hate his guts sometimes. I love him, but I hate his fucking guts, y’know?”

“I know. He’s mean to you.”

“He’s not.. he’s fine.”

“He’s mean. One mistake and I wish I never asked. I don’t like it when he’s an asshole to you. You don’t even deserve all the flack for that, it was an accident, and I think we all know who the most accident prone person here is. I’m a walking hazard, if I know anything it’s that.”

“You’re fine, Scar. Cub’s fine too, I just overreact and shoot him over it. Feels good for a second, but then it’s gone. It’s immature. He doesn’t do that to me.”

“What? He tries to kill you constantly.”

Cleo chuckled, a joyless sound. “That’s different. He doesn’t do it because he’s pissed off at me. Most of the time.” Scar crossed all four of his arms, which was an extremely silly thing to see when Cleo turned to face him. She’d never seen him do that before; had he picked it up from her?

“You both kill each other and you’re both assholes to each other. You both do it.”

Cleo grunted dismissively, “It’s whatever.”

Scar was quiet for so long that Cleo expected him to have dropped it, but he straightened, apparently finding his nerve. “I don’t like it.”

Cleo gazed at him through narrowed lids, but Scar did not waver, did not back down. Heavily, Cleo sighed through her nose. “I don’t like it either.”

[chambers003]

Recaps From the Time Between

Four Months After the Universe Unfroze:

Hello and welcome to the Hermitcraft Recap! My name is Pixlriffs, our writer is ZloyXP, and the subtitles are done by Lyarrah. Except - this isn’t a Hermitcraft Recap. No, this video is a bit different.

We here at the Recap have known the Hermits a very long time. They’re not just the Players we Watch, they’re our friends. And so, it is with a heavy heart I must announce that some have gone missing, and for the first time we are asking for all the help we can get in finding them again. None of these people have been seen since the explosive ending of Hermitcraft season eight.

As you may also know, when Hermits have disappeared in the past some of my peers on Empires - other Emperors - have also disappeared. I know we are strictly a Hermitcraft Recap, not an Empires Recap - that would get far too politically convoluted for myself, for starters - this is once again the case and I must call upon you, our audience, for help.

However, both the number of Hermits and Emperors that have disappeared is much smaller than the previous two times, so we cannot guarantee the disappearances are connected. The Hermits that have gone missing are: Falsesymmetry, GoodTimesWithScar, Grian, ImpulseSV, MumboJumbo, Guardian PearlescentMoon of Gilded Helianthia, Ranboo and ZombieCleo. The Codfather, Jimmy Solidarity of the Codlands, the closest and oldest ally to my own kingdom, has also disappeared.

All of the other Hermits have been accounted for since Season 8’s end. In the unlikely event that you have found any of the people I have listed, please do not hesitate in contacting either myself or any of the crew here at the Recap, your Emperor, a local authority like the Mayor of a major server, or XisumaVoid.

And it’s unlikely, but if any of the missing Hermits see this video, please. Use any method you can to contact us.

That’s about it for this Recap. We will try and keep you updated, but we are the Hermitcraft Recap and the Hermits have already decided Season 9 will not go ahead until we can confirm the whereabouts of the missing Hermits. Even if they did, with two Emperors missing and a third recovering from the Moonfall, There’s a very good chance I would be too busy to voice a weekly show, anyway.

Take care, bye for now.

Six months after the universe unfroze:

[Community Post]

Hi all, there’s been no news on the missing Hermits and Codfather yet. However, you might have heard something about all portals to the DreamSMP closing up. The last time this happened, Ranboo had recently joined the Hermits. It may mean nothing, but we said we’d update, so we’re updating.

That’s all. Again, please do not hesitate to speak to a Hermit, Emperor, or local authorities if you think you see someone. Reminder, we are looking for False, Scar, Grian, Impulse, Mumbo, Pearl, Ranboo, Cleo, and Codfather Jimmy. There’s also unconfirmed reports that Martyn InTheLittleWood has also gone missing; although he’s a known nomad, he has disappeared when Hermits have in the past. Images of all these Players can be found below.

-Zloy

A year after the universe unfroze:

[Community Post]

Good news!

False and her eagle have been found after a year of flying around the cosmos, and she brought news from Space around the DreamSMP. Apparently, it’s not just the portals - she was unable to even approach entering orbit, let alone landing. She described it as lag, or a chunk error, but for the whole planet. It’s a worrying development, but all the information we can gather is invaluable.

False touched down in the Crystal Cliffs to pick up Gem the other day, who has newfound determination to find her fellow Hermits and Emperors. We can only hope that the combined magical force of the Grand Wizard, and the sharpest minds of Hermitcraft can work together to locate the others.

As always, images of the missing Players can be found below.

-Pix

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

#realized idont want my true intentions hidden in the tags #im not complaining about modern fanworks i just want more insanity over the word of god canon instead of the #mythologized tragedy?? that it's become

#it IS that but you know what else it is it is also cleo being attacked by a tree #and almost everyone clustering together in a little hole on the first night #and the failure to get everyone to sleep #and scar threatening ren and leavin g it out of his video #and cleo's 'i did a bad thing' and bdubs cheering them on #and ren ratting cleo and pizza theft out to etho because he assumed they were a team #and cleo leaving a flower at scar's first grave after they stood and watched him die #and martyn starting a raid in the village #and etho and tango (?) getting shot to death for the crime of wearing a helmet

#there is so MUCH to love #there is all off the top of myu head okay listen. listean. #watch third life #grian's pov #and then zombiecleo's #and then whoever's pov you want (I LOVE scar's pov) #don't watch etho's first because his is confusing as a first go lmao #i watched him first and didnt go crazy until i checked out grian #but blease listen listen. there is so much to love. watch 3rd life

realized i hid my truest thoughts again ^^ anyway

and

blinks at you so sweetly. click one of these buttons please

i think everyone should rewatch 3rd life agian. a lot of fanwork is fucking. sTUNNING. gorgeous. increidble masterpieces. but these dumbasses are scooby doo villains and i think if grian had to sweetly hold scar's gifted flowers he would immediately comment on the fact that they're full of sand

[luigra]

Who will follow up on the plots their S8 ending started when S9 begins?

So, Season 8 of Hermitcraft ended with pretty much everyone doing some big plot thing to finish it off, but how many of these plot lines are we going to see get at least a mention when the next season starts? Before now, it was pretty hard to tell, but with the newly released teasers and other hints, here are my predictions:

Doc and Ren are absolutely planning something already. Their first episode is promising to be a grand opening, with Doc already preparing soundtracks and all the teasing. From the looks of it, I think they will end up with the most plot continuity, and there's a realistic chance that we will get more Hermatrix shenanigans in Season 9.

Xisuma, judging by the feedback he received and the comments he made about Season 8, will not do any lore this season, but I do think we will get a cool animation for how Xisuma got to the new world from Pooka and we will continue getting the animated segments, although probably fewer in number. The best bet is that we might see more full-on animations that are independent from the episodes, similar to CarnEvil regarding how canon they are, but shorter in length. So basically, while Xisuma himself does not want to do lore anymore, Pooka still might.

Gem feels like someone who will start the next season by finally coming out of that portal, and I do think having gone through it might do something cool to her?

ZombieCleo has been brewing up something for us, as she mentioned a new skin for Season 9 multiple times on streams, and her ending went as far as being animated. EnderCleo???? EnderCleo pretty please??? But yeah, I am almost certain that her ending will have impact on the first episode.

Tango....? Tango might! But so far I don't think we have gotten much info on his plans. I wouldn't get my hopes up for anything fancy, but I think it's not too daring to hope for at least a mention of how he got there. But who knows. He could act out a full on landing movie. He could.

The Boatem, yes all of them. I would actually say they are not the bunch to make their time in the void plot-significant in any way, but I do think there's a chance we might get to see them drop in onto everyone's heads when the hermits gather round for a season start. At least I can hope. But we might not get even that.

And for the rest of the hermits... Well, I would say we're not getting much. A few phrases and joking mentions of the previous season are all I'm expecting.

Mainly, one of the questions this answers is: should you watch Season 8's Finale Recap before starting Season 9, whether you are a new viewer or just need a refresher? Well, depends on your hermit of choice, but it would be worth doing anyway. Plus, I don't think the fandom is letting this glorious big moon plot die any time soon.

And what are y'all's predictions?

[redwinterroses]

for requests how about: impulse, encountering some or all of the day one crew and getting Very Uneasy because oh shit, the 3rdlife memories are coming back hard

Hey! Sorry this took me SO long to finish. It was a hard one to write because between you asking this (I think?) and now, Impulse had that whole encounter with Bdubs on the path and I was like "Well I don't want to just write that" and then Cleo showed up? And I haven't ever written her before (except for a few lines in another hero, another mindless crime) so I had to go watch a ton of vids and streams and--

okay. Excuses over. Please enjoy this little "Impulse has a bad time but Friends Are Good" drabble. <3

~~~

Sweet Dreams

The Crastle was bigger than he remembered. Had this hallway always been here? This doorway? This arch that led to another hall…which branched and spiraled and led up stairs and down Escherian ramps in a labyrinth of stone walls and a floor dotted with pressure plates?

Impulse found himself running, breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he dashed down the halls, throwing open doors and darting around corners, leaping over the pressure plates—someone was chasing him.

They were coming for him, glowing red eyes and white teeth—fangs—glinting in the shadows. And over all, the ever-louder beat:

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It pounded in his ears, deafening, and he stumbled to cower against a wall, hunching with his arms over his head, trying in vain to drown it out. But no—no, it was even louder now, thumping so close it rattled his teeth, and he looked down to see blood spreading across his shirt and at the center where his heart should be: a golden clock embedded in his chest.

“They gave me a clock, Impulse.”

His head snapped up. Bdubs, eyes blank and red like two burning embers, stared down at him, no expression on his grey face.

“Ride or die?” Cleo’s voice came from behind him, and Impulse spun to see her glaring down the length of a crossbow, her eyes as scarlet and expressionless as Bdubs’. “How about… die.”

She fired the crossbow, the bolt exploding into flames that swarmed toward Impulse’s face—

He shot upright in bed, gasping for air. He swallowed hard, rubbing his chest as he gradually caught his breath. His heart pounded so loudly that for one horrible moment he thought it might really have been replaced with a bloody golden clock.

But no. Around him, the night was cool and dark, the silence of the Boatem village broken only by the faint rattling of a distant skeleton and the lowing of cows.

Just a dream. Just a nightmare.

Just another nightmare.

Impulse slumped back against his pillows, flopping one arm over his eyes and letting out a long, shuddering sigh in the darkness. It had been months since they’d moved on from the 3rd Life server, months of good times and laughter and the excitement of new projects and builds… and yet at night, when the voices of his friends faded away and Impulse was left alone with himself—he found himself back. Time and again, his sleeping mind returned to the Crastle, or to Dogwarts, or to the sandy dunes of the Red Desert. And inevitably, he found himself face to face with nightmare versions of his day-one crew: Bdubs and ZombieCleo, red-eyed and vengeful.

“I never betrayed them,” he muttered to the darkness. “Never.”

So why did he feel guilty?

Well. If he was honest with himself… it wasn’t really guilt. Or it was, but not because of anything he’d done in 3rdLife—no, the guilt he felt was because the primary emotion associated with Bdubs and Cleo in his dreams was fear.

These were his friends! Being afraid of them went against every instinct he had, every good memory and inside joke and shared experience. And that was a different world anyway—different rules, different lives. It didn’t change anything here on Hermitcraft.

And yet…

And yet when he saw that clock on Bdubs’ belt the other day, or when he’d come up out of the mines that first morning in Boatem and Cleo had been standing right there, Impulse hadn’t been able to suppress the rising wave of panic that swept over him. Panic over being caught in his web of lies, panic that he might hurt the only people he trusted, panic that they didn’t trust him—

Enough was enough. He needed to get past this; he couldn’t spend the rest of the season (the rest of his life?) having anxiety attacks whenever he encountered any of the other Crastle crew members. Talking with Bdubs on the trail had helped, but… he hadn’t seen Cleo since the first days of the server.

That needed to change.

Impulse threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, padding down the stairs to the main level of his house. Grabbing his communicator from where he’d left it atop the crafting bench, he tapped out two quick messages:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: hey, can we meet up and chat? Spawn egg, around noon?

He set down the communicator and turned to go to bed, but to his surprise, it buzzed with an immediate reply.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: everything alright?

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: yeah sure, I just |

Impulse stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, then backspaced and started again:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: not really. but it’s nothing major. just want to chat a few things over with you.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: Impulse it’s 3 in the morning. you wouldn’t be messaging if it wasn’t major. want to talk now?

He blinked. That… wasn’t the response he’d expected. He hesitated, finger hovering over the touch screen.

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: sure.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: i'll come to you.

.

///

.

Impulse was waiting on the roof when Cleo arrived, swooping in with the dry rustle of elytra wings to land on the cobble-and-slabs rooftop.

He looked up at her with an automatic smile, but she didn’t even wait for a “hey” before plopping down beside him.

“Alright, Impulse,” she said, her brisk tone ordering, rather than inviting him to speak. “What’s going on?”

Pulling his knees into his chest, Impulse wrapped his arms around his legs, the cobblestone beneath him still radiating a bit of warmth from the day’s sun.

“I…” he let his voice trail off, not sure where to begin.

“Out with it.” Cleo held out her hand, palm up, as if waiting for him to drop something into it. “Spit it out. It’s not gonna get any better for stewing on it.”

This was a dumb idea. Impulse closed his eyes and, before he could talk himself out of it, let the words spill out in a rush:

“I keep having dreams. Nightmares. About being back… back there. At the Crastle, mainly. And, ah—” he chuckled nervously and opened his eyes, looking sideways at Cleo. “You and Bdubs are there. And you’re… mad. Yeah, you’re really mad. And you don’t trust me. And—" he took a deep breath. “I keep dreaming that you’re so mad you kill me.”

Cleo tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “But we didn’t. Well,” she corrected herself. “I didn’t.”

“I know, I know—it’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense, and I know that, but…” he swallowed, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I need to get it off my chest. Because even thought I know it’s not real, and I know this is an entirely different world, and I know that nothing from that server really changes anything, I can’t just… turn off what my brain does when I’m not paying attention to it. You guys are my friends and I’m getting real tired of feeling like I need to start running every time I see one of you. To be honest, sitting here right now even is making me antsy.”

Overhead, the stars continued on their paths in silence, and somewhere in the village a couple of sheep baa-ed at each other plaintively.

“Well. That’s… something. That’s certainly something, isn’t it.” Cleo was quiet for a moment, examining him. Impulse looked away, suddenly finding his fingernails deeply interesting.

“Impulse.”

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, and he instinctively flinched away. Cleo raised both eyebrows at him this time, pulling her hand back—then deliberately replacing it, her fingers cool and firm through the thin fabric of his sleeve. “Impulse,” she repeated, her tone gentle but brooking no argument. “You… you know I’m not good at this stuff. But at the risk of getting in way over my pay-grade: we’re good. We’re your friends.” She gave him a shake. “We love you, you idiot. No amount of murdery games on another server gonna change that.”

Impulse gave a little laugh, pretending neither of them could hear the emotion that made his voice catch in his throat. “Wow, Cleo,” he said. “Love. Big word.”

“Bah.” She shoved him away, throwing her hands in the air. “I love everybody, you’re not special.” But there was a grin in her voice. “And anyway—why me? You’ve got a lotta nerve, Impulse, having nightmares about me killin’ you.”

“Hey, you were scary with that crossbow.”

“I was, wasn’t I.” Cleo sounded satisfied about that.

The knot in Impulse’s chest was slowly loosening, and he glanced over to see Cleo leaning back on her hands, staring up at the sky. The faintest tinge of pinkish-grey was starting to appear on the eastern horizon. The Boatem crew would be up and about soon—Grian in particular had a tendency to be up at an ungodly hour of the morning.

“Hey—” Impulse said, lowering his voice again. “Um. Thanks. For swinging by. Sorry for being weird about all this.”

“Impulse if you start apologizing for being weird you’re never going to stop.” She made a face at him. “Because you’re very weird.”

“Thaaaanks.”

Cleo gave him an easy punch on the shoulder. “You know you adore me,” she said. “And if it makes you feel any better, I can promise you this: I will kill you again at some point, I’m sure. And it’ll have nothing at all, whatsoever, to do with Third Life: it’ll be because you deserve it.” She paused. “Or because I just want to.”

Somehow, out of all the things she could have said, a casual threat of violence was the thing that did the trick. Impulse laughed—out loud, for real, a genuine laugh that shook loose the tension in his shoulders and chased away the phantom of Cleo standing over him with a crossbow.

“Thanks, Cleo.”

Cleo stood, and patted him on the head, ruffling up his hair. “There’s the obnoxiously-cheerful Impulse I know and loath,” she teased. “Can’t have you being all maudlin over here—I’m the gloomy one on this server.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Impulse asked, smoothing down his hair and also standing.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. You know me—I don’t do the sleeping thing much. Too much work to do: graves to dig, bodies to—” she grinned darkly “—find. ‘S a lot for an entrepreneuring zombie like myself.”

“Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it.” Impulse tried to stifle a yawn. He wasn’t entirely successful.

“Go to bed, Impulse,” Cleo laughed, activating her elytra. “And try to only have normal nightmares about me for a while. Ya know—ones where I’m properly zombie-terrifying, not this Crastle nonsense.”

“I’ll do my best.” He watched her fly off, and yawned again, this time wide enough to pop his jaw.

Alright. Let’s try this one more time. Sleep.

He left the roof and reentered his house, which suddenly felt much more cozy and far less empty and cold than it had when he’d first awakened. Sliding back under his blankets, he tugged them up around his ears and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Something exploded outside, and his eyes popped back open.

Maniacal laughter echoed over the hills of Boatem, and Impulse deliberately rolled over, burying his head under the pillow.

Tomorrow’s insanity would come soon enough. For now: sleep.

((sweet dreams, Impulse.))

[justletmeplayminecraft]

It doesn't happen often, but sometimes Mumbo will find himself frozen in place, struck down with fear and doubt.

He'll find his mind echoing with the "but what if" and "you're not good enough to stop them leaving" and he'll begin to lose his vision as his eyes become clouded with tears.

He'll take out his communicator and, with shaking hands, send a message into chat;

<MumboJumbo>: Hey I need some reassurance, could someone stop by?

And the hermits will always stop by. Sometimes just one, sometimes many, but he'll always get at least one hermit at his side in a matter of minutes.

"It's okay" they'll tell him. "We'd never abandon you" they'll say.

"Wherever we go, you'll always be welcome. Until the end of time."

oh my gosh this is so good ;-; hold on lemme see what i can write

warnings for self-doubt, fear of abandonment, implied anxiety attack

Mumbo knows what caused it this time. A combination of late nights, feedback on the HCBBS and being in Scar's base. Everywhere he looks is an incredible creation, more amazing than he could ever hope to achieve. He's felt the thoughts building over the past few days, shoving them down as deeply as he can. Which is always a mistake.

Ironically, it all spills over when he's looking at those same tiny mushrooms that excited him so much before. It's just so clever! It's so smart! And it's something Mumbo would never think to do. He's not smart like this, doesn't have Scar's creativity. He has no idea why the hermits keep him around when they could have more people like Scar. Probably because they know he has nowhere else to go, because they're good people and-

No, no. He tries to remember Xisuma's advice. He needs to breathe. Don't spiral. Long breath in, hold, long breath out. In, hold, out. His vision is blurry, eyes stinging with tears.

He keeps that mantra in his head as he pulls out his communicator. Hands trembling, he manages to navigate to the global chat. He doesn't bother reading the previous messages.

<MumboJumbo> csb somebody come over? need somrone rn

<Xisuma> mumbo? where are you?

<GoodTimeWithScar> Mumbo?

<ZombieCleo> where are you mumbo?

<MumboJumbo> msgic village

<ZombieCleo> omw

<Xisuma> let me know if you need back up

<ZombieCleo> will do.

By the time Mumbo hears rockets overhead, he's curled into the base of a tree. The bark presses hard against his back, his face hidden in his knees. He focuses on his breathing. All of those thoughts are blocked out of his head. He knows they're stupid, he knows. The hermits must be so tired of this by now-

"Mumbo." A voice calls, derailing that notion. "Where are you?" He raises his head, rubbing his eyes with a sniffle.

"I'm over here." Mumbo's voice shakes as much as the rest of him. There's a crunching of grass, and he flinches when he hears a twig snap. Soon enough, a wave of red hair falls in front of him, Cleo crouching to his level. She has a gentle smile that is in such contrast to her usual sarcasm.

"Hey, Mumbo. You want to go inside?" He nods. He can't quite find the words to say, so he accepts Cleo's hand as she pulls him to his feet. His suit is crumpled, pulling in all the wrong places and it only feels more stifling. Cleo walks with purpose, searching each building until she finds one that's mostly liveable, with a fair amount of grumbling about Scar and chestmonsters.

It is nicer inside the house. She sits him down on an old sofa, ruffling through already messy locks. The suit jacket is discarded and laid carefully over an armchair. Mumbo tucks his feet onto the edge of the sofa, wrapping his arms around long legs. A blanket is soon wrapped around his shoulders. Mumbo snuggles into it, disappearing until he's a head and two black socks in a pile of blue fabric.

"There you go, do you want some tea?" Mumbo nods. Tea sounds nice right now. He gets a good hair ruffle before Cleo vanishes in search of the kitchen. He can still hear her moving around, cursing under her breath as she tries to navigate Scar's overflowing storage. Mumbo laughs softly, more air than noise. He closes his eyes, resting his chin on his knees.

Cleo's good to him. She came here so quickly, like she often does. If not Cleo, then it would've been another hermit. They always drop everything to come help him. He just- is he really worth that effort? He doesn't do anything in return for them. Maybe it was a mistake calling someone over, he should've just dealt with this on his own, they're going to get frustrated he keeps doing this-

"Mumbo," Cleo calls. Mumbo blinks as he finds himself back in reality. "I can hear your thoughts from here. Do you want honey in your tea?" Mumbo squeezes his fingers into the soft material of the blanket, listening to a distant kettle boil. He breathes in a scent similar to a library. Something old, with a hint of magic.

"Yeah, honey would be nice."

"Got it!" He occupies his mind by looking around the room, naming each of the things he can see. There's a bookshelf against one of the walls. The top two shelves are decorated by various trinkets. Little statues and toys, sentimental items that Mumbo doesn't know the meaning of. The bottom shelves are filled with books from various designers. Scar showed him some recently, pouring over the art with a bright grin. Mumbo hung onto every word he said. A solitary redstone book sits amongst them, and Mumbo huffs an amused breath.

When Cleo returns, he's looked at the curtains, one of them pulled tied open, the forgotten mugs on the coffee table, the various doodles scattered in sheets of paper, the plants that are somehow alive and Cleo, who isn't. She smiles, passing Mumbo the mug. He curls his hands around it, pleased the heat isn't unbearable.

"So which ones do I need to fight this time?" She asks. Mumbo chuckles. The blanket has slipped further back so his hands can stick out.

"You don't need to fight anything," he replies. Cleo crosses her arms, dropping into the space next to him.

"Really?" He looks into the steaming tea. Cold isn't a problem in the jungle, not during the day. But the heat is a good grounding point. Though he could get lost in the way the steam catches the light, shimmering white patterns painted in the air.

"It's the usual," he finally concedes. "With some added 'I'm only bothering you and you're all going to get tired of needing to help me.' You know." Cleo hums. She does know. Mumbo sometimes wishes his doubts would get more adventurous, and then remembers what a terrible idea that would be.

"Do you have the book?" She asks. Mumbo shakes his head.

"I think I left it in my- no, Scar's base." He would usually keep his book of affirmations in his enderchest, but he was a bit flustered with the whole move. He thinks he left it under his pillow.

"I'll ask Scar to bring it over later."

"You don't-" She gives him a look. "Okay. Thank you," he amends. Taking a sip of the tea, he sighs. Cleo knows just how he likes it. The honeyed taste is a much-needed treat.

"So, you know what I'm going to say?"

Mumbo smiles, telling her, "Say it anyway."

"Mumbo, you could be the biggest spoon in the world, and we'd still keep you around, right?" Mumbo laughs, falling into the script with ease.

"Right."

"You're our family. We don't care if you don't achieve these incredible feats, though you do, by the way. We're lucky to have you here, and it makes me smile everytime I see what you're up to. Big or small." He hides his wet smile behind a sip of tea. There's no hiding the tears gathering in his eyes. "Mumbo, you're an amazing person, alright? The best annoying baby brother I could ask for. Wherever we go, you can come with us. As long as you want to."

"And if that's forever?"

"Then it's forever. And I'll consider myself lucky everyday you decide to stick around." Mumbo sinks back into the sofa, finally letting go of the tension he was subconsciously holding. "Right. Now let me read all the chat messages."

Mumbo laughs, reaching up to wipe his eyes, "Seriously?"

"We care about you, you dork." Cleo sits forward, holding her communicator up. She takes a deep breath, continuing in her best gameshow voice, Mumbo laughing the moment she speaks, "And first up, we have Xisuma! Asking me to tell you that he cares about you and he's always here if you ever need to talk." Mumbo settles back, a wide grin on his face, content to listen.

-

Cleo carefully takes the mug from Mumbo's hands, the redstoner offering no resistance as he yawns. His eyes are half open, blinks growing longer every time. She brushes hair from his face, gently lying him down until he's resting in her lap.

"There you go," she soothes. Mumbo quietly rearranges, hugging Cleo's legs. "You've done so well. You can rest now." Mumbo's sleepy hum brings a smile to her face.

She watches as Mumbo's breath evens out, his body growing heavier on her. She carefully tucks the corner of the blanket in before pulling out her communicator, snapping a quick photo.

<ZombieCleo shared a photo>

<ZombieCleo> mission successful

<Xisuma> :-D

<Stressmonster101> awwwwwwww <3

<iskall85> some much needed sleep i'd say

<GoodTimeWithScar> I'll be over with the book when I find it

<ZombieCleo> don't worry, i think he'll be out for a while lol

She smiles at her communicator and the lanky redstoner in her lap. There are very few sights that warm her undead heart more than this. She leans back, and settles in for however long Mumbo needs her.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

VAUNNA I LURK A LOT HI BUT I JUST WATCHED IMPULSE'S FINAL YHIRD LIFE EPISODE MY HEART IS BROKEN AND I NEED M O R E P A I N

(coherently: impulse angst please i beg of you. i grovel at your feet. alternatively villain impulse. just take my heart out and stomp on it. thanks <3 also sorry for the caps i just have a lot of feelings rn)

ahh Villainpulse is such good material! i decided to make this a sequel to this one so go read it first :)

cw: fire, murder (just in case, cuz this one is kinda dark)

…

Impulse returns to the wool castle late the next night and collapses onto his bed, exhausted and a little frustrated. Etho’s confrontation with Bdubs didn’t quite go as planned. The closest they came to a fight breaking out was when Cleo started snapping about how she didn’t trust Etho. No angry words were exchanged between Etho and Bdubs at all. It seems Impulse has overestimated their rivalry.

A knock at the door. “Impulse?”

He gives a sigh but quickly rolls onto his side and calls, “Come in.”

The door opens and Etho’s face peers in. “Hey, do you have a minute to talk?”

“Yeah, sure.” Impulse forces a smile. “What’s up?”

“I’m worried,” Etho admits. “Cleo REALLY seems to think I murdered Tango, and I’m a little concerned that she’s going to turn Bdubs against me.”

“Really?” Impulse responds. “That wouldn’t be good, since she was talking about making an alliance with the desert people earlier.”

“Exactly. If we’re not careful, the server will end up splitting into war. I know you’re on better terms with Bdubs than I am; would you consider going over to talk to him tomorrow?”

Impulse nods. “Sure thing. I’m sure I can work something out.”

“Thanks.” Etho gives a grateful smile. “Anyway, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, man.”

Impulse lies back on his bed, even more disgruntled than he was before. The war he’s slowly been cultivating is so close to being brought to fruition, but the slightest wrong move might destroy all his hard work. Bdubs and Etho will be the catalysts. They’ve got the right animosity and the right allies behind them to spark the war, but he just needs the right fuel to set it off.

It’s time for drastic action.

…

Under the cover of night, Impulse makes his way out to the crastle, armed with a sword and a flint and steel. With his intricate knowledge of the crastle’s defences, he makes it to the inner wall undetected and sets up a ladder against it. Climbing up, he creeps in through a very specific window.

As expected, Cleo is fast asleep in her bed. Impulse hesitates for only a moment. This is neither fair nor right, but Impulse doesn’t really care at the moment. He’s come way too far to fall now.

So, with a cold and emotionless expression, he stabs Cleo through the chest, in such a way that will severely injure her but not kill her immediately. She lets out a weak cry, but her eyes don’t open.

When he’s sure she hasn’t woken up, Impulse sets the fire near her bed, before escaping back out the window and shimmying down the ladder he set up. He can see smoke starting to pour out of Cleo’s window.

So he turns and flees.

He’s just made it back to the wool castle when the notification comes up on his communicator.

ZombieCleo went up in flames

Impulse settles himself back into bed.

And he smiles.

…

The next morning, Etho isn’t around, so Impulse goes straight to the crastle. He can see noticable fire damage around Cleo’s window; clearly, Bdubs had managed to put out the fire in time to save the crastle but not in time to save Cleo.

He knocks on the door.

It takes a full minute for the door to open but when it does, it reveals a red-eyed Bdubs, who’s clearly been crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Impulse murmurs, pulling his friend into a hug. “I saw in chat. What happened?”

Bdubs sniffles. “Th-There was a fire. In C-Cleo’s room. I woke up in the middle of the n-night and smelt smoke so I r-rushed down to her room and put out the f-fire but it was too late for her.”

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry…”

Impulse opens his mouth to speak again, but Bdubs quickly draws him inside the crastle and shuts the door behind him. A haunted look has appeared in his eyes. “Impulse… I-I think Etho murdered Cleo.”

Impulse’s eyes widen. This isn’t quite an act; he’s genuinely shocked that Bdubs came to the conclusion Impulse wanted him to come to this quickly, and all on his own. “Wait, what?! Y-You mean the fire wasn’t accidental?”

“No, it was deliberate. She…” Bdubs suppresses a sob. “She was stabbed in the chest first. The fire was to cover the tracks of whoever killed her, to make sure their name wouldn’t show up in chat.”

“Oh no…!” Impulse gasps. “B-But what makes you think it was Etho?”

“I don’t know for sure, but wh-when we talked yesterday, Etho mentioned something about how easy it would be to sneak into the crastle with just a few ladders and… this morning, I found a ladder outside the wall. I know it’s far from conclusive evidence, I just… I can’t shake the horrible feeling that he did this because Cleo said she suspected he killed Tango. Maybe he realised he had to take her out before she discovered any evidence he left behind.”

“N-No, I… That can’t be…! Etho would never do something like that!”

“I want to believe that,” says Bdubs sadly. “But I-I just can’t. I’m gonna avenge Cleo, Impulse. No matter what it takes.”

After a moment, Impulse nods. “I understand. Are you gonna talk to him?”

“Later. First, I’m gonna finish making that alliance with Scott and Grian’s group. Etho’s got Dogwarts on his side, so I’m gonna need the other guys on mine.”

“Got it. And I’ll help too; I’m on your side 100%, remember?”

Bdubs nods gratefully. “Yeah, thanks. Let me know if Etho does anything suspicious.”

“I will.”

…

When Impulse gets back, he finds Etho waiting for him. “Hey,” he says. “You went to the crastle, right? How’s Bdubs doing?”

“Not good,” Impulse responds sadly. “He seems to have got it in his head that you murdered Cleo.”

“What?!” Etho gasps, sounding genuinely shocked and taken by surprise. “Why would he think that?!”

Impulse shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know, dude. But he’s pretty convinced. And he’s going over to the desert right now to ally with Grian and Scott so he can rally them against you.”

Etho’s gaze darkens. “Okay, he’s gone too far. First he tries to pin Tango’s murder on me, now Cleo’s? We gotta do something about him, Impulse. Are you in?”

“Absolutely. I’m on your side 100%.”

“Good.” Etho gratefully places his hand on Impulse’s shoulder. “Thanks. We’ll rally the rest of Dogwarts and see if we can get to Scott and Jimmy before they do. If it’s a war Bdubs wants, it’s a war he’ll get.”

Impulse smiles. He can sense no distrust in Etho’s voice or expression whatsoever, just like Bdubs. Neither of them suspect him of anything.

Oh, he’ll get it all right.

You both will.