Arcane Ships Be Like

The Hermitcraft identity in relation to 2020 MCC - a plea to the modern Hermitcraft fandom to stop ignoring hermits

(An angry, semi-biased essay of 3.4k words about MCC9, MCC10, and False Supremacy)

Spurred by the recent Dream drama, people are bringing up reasons to dislike him and the DTeam, including MCC10 Red Rabbits (Jimmy, Dream, George, Puffy) (Sep 2020). Such as this tweet (Jan 2025) which has gathered 20k likes at the time of writing. Main talking points include: them ignoring Jimmy and them talking shit about his friends during Dodgebolt. It is easy to feel bad for Jimmy and feel righteous anger over Jimmy’s friends being shat upon. However, bringing up the lack of sportsmanship in relation to only Jimmy is reductive and ignores the overall context of the hermits being underestimated only to prove people wrong. 

The 2020 MCC hermits faced a long history of being overlooked and seen as “cannon fodder” / “free kills”, only for hermit duos to win twice in a row, with a hermit completing an ace and becoming the first back to back winner. Because while they were complaining about the Dodgebolt players missing their shots, False of Hermitcraft fame completed an ace in which she shot all four opponents in one round. Impressively, she did this with four arrows, meaning she did not miss a single shot. Thus, she directly contradicted any criticism about “missing shots”. This, combined with MCC9 which occurred two weeks ago, started the legacy of hermits winning MCCs, and proved that they were not to be underestimated. 

MCC10 Dodgebolt (from Jimmy’s perspective)

Onto the Dodgebolt itself. For context, Red team got third and missed out on Dodgebolt so they were understandably salty. Members of the Dodgebolt finale teams include:

Orange (winning team): Pete, False, Cub, Joel

Green: Scott, Shubble, Quig, Lizzie

These are all either Jimmy’s friends or people Jimmy knew/ in his circle. For instance, Pete and Jimmy were in the same team for MCC7 Orange (Jimmy, Martyn, Pete, HBomb). This was also a Dodgebolt with many hermits (False, Cub) or hermit adjacents (Joel would become a future hermit but he was NOT treated as a hermit in 2020, Scott, Shubble, Lizzie). 

Select quotes before/during Dodgebolt:

“We could’ve easily taken either of these teams too in Dodgebolt as well.” [2:15:19]

“This is too slow! C’mon, shoot shoot!” [2:19:15]

“We don’t really know anybody who’s in here” [2:19:56]

“Orange is choking a little bit” [2:20:44]

“These are slow games! Everyone’s missing so much.” [2:21:50]

“None of them are good shots, they’re all just missing.” [2:21:59]

“Let’s just pretend these are the two viewer teams.” [2:22:21]

Round 4 (Orange 2 - Green 1), aka False’s ace round, is when they start to care about False— “False is literally carrying”. They mention Green shouldn’t aim for Pete and aim for the others, False included. Jimmy points out False has hit every single shot when she takes out three. They acknowledge False’s skills at the least when hard proof is shown to them. 

Orange wins MCC10, Cub and Joel get their first win. HBomb is losing his shit in the admin stream as the guy who made the “False is going to be great at Dodgebolt” Reddit post. False became the first back to back winner following her victory in MCC9 with Blue Bats Rendog, HBomb, and Fruitberries. Another hermit duo has won MCC, showing the strength of hermit teams. But how did the story begin?

The Hermitcraft identity in 2020 MCC - False, Ren, Cub, Grian

Once upon a time, from a hermit perspective, MCC was only about False and Ren. 

After Jevin in MCC1, False and Ren joined together in MCC4 Yellow alongside now hermit adjacents Fwhip and Katherine. Importantly, they formed a hermit duo and hence started the tradition of hermit teams. It was False and Ren who first established the narrative of hermit teams. The hermits would join MCC, but only when with each other or with adjacents. They would be in their comfort zone. While they had fun, they wouldn’t win.

Given the fact that a lot of hermits have now branched out, this sentiment is less important, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. The hermits continuously support their friends regardless of teams and see a win for any hermit as a win for all of them. Still, it is my firm belief that the original narrative is only this strong because of False and Ren together. They got a boost because of Blue Bats 9 clout and do-not-separatism, but I think False and Ren, when teamed together, are just genuinely happy to be there and play games because they simply really enjoy each other’s company. The hermits are all wholesome, but False and Ren in particular helped to push the narrative of hermits being friends who stick by each other, win together, and just have a fun, whimsical time in MCC. This is also why False and Ren were the only hermits capable of forming Blue Bats and its wholesome legacy— same reason why it could only ever be HBomb and Fruitberries. 

While Pearl and Joel are hermits, they were not hermits in 2020 and they were not treated as hermits by themselves, the hermits, or the wider community. However, there was definitely a stereotype that the “builders” were less “cracked at the game”— builders in this case refer to people like Fwhip. However, before MCC9, hermit adjacents (NOT hermits) have made their way to the Dodgebolt stage, with Fwhip winning in MCC7 (HBomb, Pete, Eret). Dodgebolt finale teams who didn’t win DB include: MCC6 Orange with Jimmy and Martyn, and MCC8 with Fwhip and Joel. Meanwhile, from 6 to 8, the hermit teams (aka. False and Ren teams) got ninth three times in a row. MCC6 Yellow: False, Ren, Cub, Ryguyrocky. MCC7 Aqua: False, Ren, Grian, Pearl. MCC8 Yellow: False, Ren, Cub, Pearl. It should be plainly obvious that even among the builders (hermits included), the hermits (specifically False, Ren, Cub, Grian, not Pearl and Joel) were seen as “worse”. I would even argue it’s specifically Ren and False because they were The Hermit Representatives— Grian was in non hermit duo teams, and Cub played every other MCC. 

Also, at the time, the hermits were rather isolated from the rest of the MCYT community. Their closest non-hermit buddy was probably Pearl. They were true hermits. This was before Life Series or whatever. This was 2020. The idea of the hermits hanging out with speedrunners and competitive players was impossible. 

So, what changed? Insert one of the most memorable, significant, and culturally important MCC wins ever: the one, the only, MCC9 Blue Bats. 

MCC9 - Blue Bats and Dreamslayer

To be fair, it’s probably unreasonable for me to act like a team from 2020 is still widely known and remembered. It’s not like all four of them still talk about it. It’s not like one of them used their crown in a fairly popular experimental Minecraft series, creating a chain of events that led to the normalising of shipping in traffic/hermit fan circles. It’s not like one of them actually got onto the Hermitcraft server for a 2023 event and it all started from MCC9. It’s not like MCC9 Blue Bats is remembered in any official, tangible, and physical form in the year 2024– oh wait. 

Instead of a 170k fanfic, here’s a TLDR: HBomb and Fruit were seen as carrying False and Ren. They were the underdogs which Reddit ranked them in 6th. They went on a training arc and were doing pretty good in the MCC until it came to their least wanted game in game 7— Survival Games. Then they went crazy and got 7200 coins multiplied, landing them firmly in first. Even if you argue the coins were unfair (which some people did), Blue Bats got 14 kills out of a possible 36. Fruitberries got 8 kills because he’s insane. Blue had a steady SoT and faced Green in Dodgebolt, which was, coincidentally, 2/4 DTeam (George, Sapnap, Eret, Kratzy). Blue Bats were two down in Dodgebolt and was about to lose, then pulled a reverse sweep in which they won three rounds in a row. So Blue won, lives were changed forever, Rendog never got over being called king, we all know it, etc etc, and immediately faced backlash from angry stans. You can still see salty people under their win announcement tweet. This was September 12th, 2020. Two weeks later, September 26th, 2020, Orange won MCC10, False did a perfect ace (“False Supremacy”), and became the first back to back winner. 

Also, Grian killed Dream in Survival Games.

In addition to killing Dream on Lime (Dream, Fundy, Sylvee, Tubbo), Grian killed Fundy and Tubbo in quick succession, hence swiftly eliminated ¾ of Lime very early on in SG. (Here is a transcript of MCC9 for easy reference.) This is significant because Lime was in first before SG, followed by Green and Blue. In my opinion, Grian paved the way for his fellow hermits to win. This was part of why Lime was stressed and potentially played risky in the following SoT, which led to the infamous “Dream got locked in SoT behind an iron door” incident. Lime and their audience were dissatisfied and salty, hence they rushed to support Green, and it genuinely looked like Green would win, after all 79.4% of the audience thought they would— then boom! Reverse sweep!

Regarding the hermit identity: False and Ren are pretty obviously besties who achieved success together. It was the typical “friendship is power” hero’s journey. False and Ren proudly donned MCC crowns and showed them off in their Hermitcraft videos (False: HC7 E47, Ren: HC7 E23, Ren included highlights in his video). False and Ren literally brought their wins home to Hermitcraft— in Ren’s case, he also brought his win to Third Life, which became his crown for the whole Red Winter saga. Grian was frantically rooting for Blue in Dodgebolt, repeatedly telling Pink they have to support his friends. Pearl in Orange showed the same kind of earnestness. The hermits and their friends were all happy with the first ever hermit win.

But not everyone was happy. People complained about the SG scores, the iron door, and that the hermits were “carried”. Maybe people acknowledged H and Fruit (Fruit gained S tier status after MCC9), but some were invalidating the hermits’ first win. Thankfully, this has a happy story. As early as the 2020-2021 MCC break, MCC9 Blue was seen as one of the fan favourite teams, even topping MCC4 Pink (SBI) in a poll. And we all know which team is the one recorded down for prosperity in Sky Battle TCG. 

Alright, so maybe Blue Bats was a fluke. Maybe False and Ren got carried. Maybe Grian just went insane with bloodlust. Maybe the hermits were just lucky. Surely this won’t be supported with a trend of hermits winning MCC. Oh wait—

MCC10 - Back to Back Winner

Modern MCC fans may argue that MCC10 isn’t a “canon” MCC because it included two viewer teams, but won’t press on it because everyone treats it as canon. Well, everyone certainly treats False being the first b2b winner as canon, same for her False Supremacy ace (fun fact: Scott coined that term in MCC9 DB). 

MCC10 is interesting in the sense it’s like MCC9’s younger, more overlooked sibling. It’s iconic because of the ace, it has excellent team chemistry, but it’s not as theatrical as MCC9. MCC10 is also interesting because it’s like MCC17. 1) Orange team with False, Pete, and one other hermit 2) late game Build Mart 3) insane Dodgebolt performance by a hermit that overshadows everything else in fanon. 

Onto Cub’s first win. Between MCC9 and MCC10, False said she would try to get Cub a crown so they would match [Twitch clip]. Similar to Ren and False, Cub showed off his win in his HC7 E64. All three of their wins were written down on Hermitcraft in Hermiton Herald, Volume 12: “Minecraft Championships: The Hermiton Herald congratulates Cubfan135, FalseSymmetry, and Rendog for winning the MCC Championships this past month.” September was a huge month for the hermits, and it was definitely a celebration they brought back to Hermitcraft. 

MCC11 and onwards - the Grian storyline

Naturally, after ¾ of the active hermits won MCC, the attention fell onto Grian. With great gusto came Grian’s first competitive MCC team— MCC11 Lime Liches (Grian, False, Ren, Fruitberries). This was ¾ Blue9 and Grian’s first team with FruityB, whom he was a big fan of. Lime11 got fourth and had a sucky Parkour Warrior, but this was the beginning of Grian seeking a win. Grian’s next brush with victory came in MCC13, which was another Pete-False team with late game BM, this time also with Kara. They got to Dodgebolt but didn’t win. This was fine. Grian got third in MCC14 (Pete, Martyn, Oli) and third in MCCP21 (Techno, Wilbur, Jimmy). His team was unlucky in MCC15 (Shubble, Pearl, H replaced Pete after game 4), but got first in coins in MCC16 (Scott, Fruit, Joel) while losing Dodgebolt. Finally, finally, he won in MCC17 with a spectacular 1v3. MCC17 was also in September, hence September was seen as a hermit victory month (not a Desert Duo month or whatever). 

This section is to elaborate that the Grian storyline is inherently connected with MCC9. There’s the obvious Dreamslaying, but MCC9 Blue created a formula for hermit teams, winning teams or otherwise. People like H, Fruit, and Pete are recurring teammates, leading to the meme of “hermits adopting S tiers”. Blue9 did it first. False and Ren did it first. 

MCC12 - George becomes the second back to back winner

Oh boy.

MCC12 was on November 14th, 2020. Teams of interest include Lime (Cub, Pearl, Joel, Fruit— Cub’s first non hermit duo team) and the typical hermit team on Aqua (False, Ren, Grian, Fwhip). As stated in the title, George became the second back to back winner by winning MCC11 and 12, with his team defeating Lime12 in Dodgebolt (Pearl had Aussie ping issues). False, as the first b2b winner, nicely acknowledged this by replying to his winning tweet— “welcome to the club 😏”.  

And the people just ignored her! People on mcyttwt were ignoring her achievements! Hermittwt (which by the way started out as a Blue9 fanclub, Know Your Roots) was in the trenches. People made Tumblr posts pointing this out [1] [2]. The clout of DT was suffocating and their fans made them trend no matter who won, hence the hermits were underappreciated or even shat on. False had way less hype than George did when they both did the same thing only she did it first. In fact, people seemed to not know False was the b2b winner first. Does this feel familiar? Yeah, MCC10 Dodgebolt. Yeah, it’s not just about Jimmy being sad. 

I made posts complaining about it (this one on Nov 15th was rather melodramatic). Here is another ask on Nov 15th, in which I quote:

“I said this before but one tweet really hurt me because it was so painfully accurate. It said the hermits are just memes in the eyes of mcyt community/ mcytwtt. And it’s so true. Think about it: False Supremacy, Lord Grian Dreamslayer, Cub Supremacy. Of course fans of them use these terms but... in the end, to a lot of people, they’re just memes. Builders who were lucky. Just there for comic relief. Just there to be laughed at. And although the tweet was “bitter”, it validated my feelings. So... I kinda wanna spread that.” 

Misogyny

2020: False’s achievement gets brushed past because some George and DTeam stans were being annoying. Okay, that sucks, but she proved them all wrong and modern MCC community holds her ace in high regard.

2025: “Home turf” of the Hermitcraft/Traffic/Grian’s friend group fandom. False, and Ren, and Cub, and even Grian himself and the narrative they created gets brushed past because people only mention Jimmy being sad during MCC10 DB. Okay… wait. This is home turf. People are supposed to care. They’re Jimmy’s friends. We’re supposed to bring up every hermit’s achievements because we like Hermitcraft. Wait, I can’t hear that? Is that not a thing now? In which half of the hermits get overshadowed by the other half that plays a non HC series? Or even people who aren’t hermits? 

Misogyny doesn’t have to be intentional statements of “I hate women”. It can be accidental. Unintentional. It can be subconsciously holding men and women to different standards. For more on MCC and misogyny, there’s this Reddit post about post MCC29, which funnily enough is about False fans being unhappy with George and his fans. False gets overlooked in MCC a ton, for example she got spoken over in MCC17 (yes, the MCC17), she was also very quiet and kind of ignored in MCC22 (yes, with HBomb, Grian, and Scar). It’s improved now, with multiple (male) teammates speaking up on how good False’s comms are. 

Double standards can be seen when False won Demise 2 (with Ren getting the final kill, why is Ren always at the scene of the crime, do not separate indeed) and people didn’t like that. While False was busy, she was online and fended off attacks live on stream. It wasn’t her fault that people didn’t want to attack her. It wasn’t her fault that Ren was so loyal to her just because he is. 

False gets called toxic and bossy a lot when she’s just trying to wrangle her teammates aka. doing what male players do. Most audacious of all is when False got called toxic by Ren’s chat while playing Hungry Hermits. On hermit turf! On Ren’s turf! Just say you hate women and go. 

The examples of Demise 2 and HH are directly targeted towards the Hermitcraft fandom. You can’t blame DT’s fanbase anymore now. It’s coming from inside the house. 

Would you still love me if I was no longer a marketable girlboss :(

I’ve been here since mid 2019. I’ve seen the 2019 discourse. And I have seen False’s fanon popularity drop like crazy. It’s baffling. Do people not like her anymore because she’s not the only “girlboss” on the server? (Note: I find depicting anyone on Hermitcraft as solely a “girlboss” flattens them and is not accurate to any of their personalities.) Do people not like her anymore because she’s not in Grian’s close circle of friends? Do people not like her because she’s not in Life? Talking with friends on why this happened creates confusing groups of words like: “misogyny” “Life series” “Grian” “Boatem” “Soup Group” “Life series” “Life series” “Life series” etc. 

Take the beginning of HC10. Ren organised a mining contest with like ¾ of the server. Cool. Fun. Why was most of the talk on the other ¼ then? Why are hermits only relevant when they’re in Life series, or in Ren’s case, when they’re actively playing Life? (Note: I also get frustrated about Ren’s fanon characterisation and how much of it is dominated by exactly two ships and Life series.) And why the fuck are non hermits put on the same level as hermits (eg. Jimmy and Martyn, Lizzie gets a pass as she’s a hermit spouse however she’s not a Hermitgal) while ignoring existing hermits? In this case, False. False genuinely has more appreciation on the MCC sub than the HC sub and it is humiliating. Get your shit together, Hermitcraft fandom. 

Life seriesification is a genuine problem in the HC fandom. It would be fine if people kept them separate. But no, it’s spilled over to HC in which you significantly gain more clout if you’re in Life. I vividly remember when False won Blue River Raceway Grand Prix and I checked the Hermitcraft tag only to see people congratulating Scar winning. Winning what? A Hermitcraft event? Did he also win the Grand Prix? Silly silly me, he won Secret Life. Is the Hermitcraft in the room with us right now?  

Back to MCC10. “None of them are good shots, they’re all just missing.” False gets a perfect ace— four shots with four arrows. MCC29— False gets punched down in TGTTOS by George for eighteen seconds (my fic on that here). She gets a 1v3 and shoots the winning shot. She becomes the first ever four time female winner. If you think you can stop the Symmetry, that’s False. 

I hope the Hermitcraft fandom can do better than DT’s fandom. Because from what I can see, both fandoms kind of brush her aside. 2020, 2025, and I’m still angry and bitter about the same old things. It is fucking exhausting. 

Break Like an Artist

My fic for @hermitadaymay's Solstice Social Collaborative Fanwork Event! I was paired up with the wonderful @eydilily to create something spooky, dramatic and contemplative featuring Gem and Pearl, and it's been an absolute blast putting this together. Please go check out Eydi's art for this AU, it's absolutely gorgeous. CWs: description of a corpse, dismemberment, loss of awareness, fire/flooding/destruction, and depiction of a panic attack. Wordcount: 5.8k

There is a plague sweeping Pearl's hometown.

One by one, she watches as her friends fall to the infection, the colour and life drained out of them and leaving hollow, apathetic husks behind. Even with the devastating loss of her friends, her village, and her regular life, the worst part of this situation is not the infection.

It's that Pearl knows that Gem is the one spreading it.

[Read on AO3]

It’s a grey day in the fishing village that Pearl calls her home. Not that it’s ever not a grey day, at least not anymore. She stares out of her window at the thick encompassing fog that’s claimed the bay, at the desaturated buildings that dot the shore, and she twirls her paintbrush in her fingers. 

The canvas is blank, of course. She doesn’t remember the last time she sat down to paint and didn’t end up with a blank canvas. It must have been—months ago, at least. Back when the last monster from the depths had attacked, and not a single person had had the heart to fight back. When Tango’s house had been shattered in two, and Tango with it.

(He seems to be dealing well with the loss of his arm, at least. Or, as well as you can deal with anything, when the only things inside of you are all-consuming numbness and apathy. Pearl feels it in her chest, the yawning emptiness, and thinks that if she were to lose her arm right here and now, she also wouldn’t be able to summon the energy to care.)

She’d painted after that, though. She remembers it vividly, waking from a nightmare and running to her studio to capture lashing tentacles and inky waters and splatters of crimson blood. It’s a frenzied piece, a disturbing piece, and the moment she’d finished it she’d been filled with so much dread that she’d turned it around to face the wall and refused to look at it since.

The dread’s gone now. Along with the anxiety, and the uncertainty, and the fear. It’s all gone, and Pearl’s left sitting here, paints drying on the palette as she stares at an empty canvas.

Across the house, she hears her front door swing open and closed. A familiar voice shouts, “Pearl? Pearl, where are you?”

“Studio,” Pearl calls back, her voice flat. She continues to twirl the paintbrush as she waits for Gem to trek her way across the house to find her.

“Studio,” Gem echoes as she pushes open the door. “Oh, Pearl, are you painting again? Oh, I’m so happy for—oh.” The joy in her voice vanishes as she takes in Pearl, sitting on her stool, paintbrush raised and canvas empty. “Oh, Pearl…” 

Sympathy. Pity. Concern. Pearl can pick apart the emotions in Gem’s voice, even if she can’t feel them herself. She stares back blankly, because she can’t find it in herself to care about either aspect of the situation, whether it be her own inability to paint or the way that Gem’s looking at her like she’s a wounded animal.

“Come on,” Gem says softly, crossing the room and gently prying the brush from Pearl’s fingers. Pearl lets her. She’s not really painting, anyway. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we? A nap will do you some good.”

Pearl lets Gem help her up, lets Gem allow Pearl to lean on her for support as they make their way back to Pearl’s bedroom. It’s not like Pearl has any difficulty walking. She’s not sick, she’s not injured, she’s just…

Cold. Empty. Not quite lifeless, not in the way Mumbo had been when she’d last seen him, skin and eyes and hair all the same shade of grey-white-nothingness as he’d stared into the distance, completely unresponsive. Listless, maybe, is the better word. She’s halfway to a fate worse than death and she cannot find it in her to care at all.

She feels colder where Gem touches her. She looks down, and she’s not sure if it’s her eyes playing tricks on her, or if her skin is more desaturated where it brushes against Gem’s. She lets Gem help her into bed, lets Gem fluff the pillows and fuss around her, lets Gem sit next to her as she hands Pearl a bowl of soup (“Your favourite!”) and watches her to make sure she eats.

If Pearl were more herself, she would care about what Gem’s doing to her. Care enough to stop it, maybe. Care enough to—no, not to confront her. Every time she’d tried, the words had gotten stuck in her throat. Because she’s known for a long time who’s been behind all of this, behind the corruption leeching all colour from their village, their home, their friends—

And she’d never said anything. Too worried about Gem’s feelings. Too worried about their friendship.

…Pearl realises, as Gem goes to take the empty bowl and brushes her hands against Pearl’s, that she’s not worried anymore.

She waits quietly as Gem washes the bowl in her kitchen, chattering to fill the silence as she does, updating Pearl on their friends’ conditions. Her tone is bright and optimistic, even as her words are dour. Scar seems to be doing the same. Grian’s getting worse. Joel’s down to communicating only in broken phrases—but he should be fine. It definitely won’t be like Mumbo, or Cub, or…

Gem returns to Pearl’s room, regarding her for a long moment before bending down to give her a hug. “Get better soon, okay?” she says into Pearl’s ear. “It’s not the same doing my rounds without you.”

Pearl knows that she’s not getting better. So does Gem, so Pearl doesn’t bother pointing it out. She just nods, lets Gem withdraw, lets Gem run one last hand through her hair.

“You should rest, Pearl,” Gem says, stepping away from Pearl’s bedside. “I’m going to go check on Impy now—”

Pearl’s moving before she’s even properly registered it, grabbing onto Gem’s wrist with force, holding her in place. Gem freezes. Pearl looks up at her through strands of greasy, greying hair.

“Gem,” she says, and it’s the first thing she’s said in days, and her voice is hoarse and her throat sore from the strain.

“...Pearl?” Gem replies, and she sounds almost scared.

“Gem,” Pearl repeats, getting used to the sound of her own voice in her mouth again. “I know.”

Gem laughs. It’s a nervous, tittering sound, the laugh Pearl remembers from when they’d gotten into trouble together as kids. “Know what?” she asks, voice strained. 

“That it’s you,” Pearl says flatly. 

Gem stares at her.

Pearl stares back.

Gem swallows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says. “Pearl—”

“I know you’re the one doing this to us,” Pearl says, more specific this time, choosing her words carefully, and Gem—

Gem tries to pull away.

Pearl tightens her grip. 

“Pearl,” Gem whines, eyes wide, tugging. “Let me go—”

“Why?” Pearl croaks, and Gem snaps her mouth shut.

---

Pearl’s in the midst of mixing a particularly tricky shade of green when there’s a loud, frantic knock on her front door. She sighs, setting down her brush to rest, and gets to her feet. “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on!” she calls as the knocks continue, echoing through the house.

She pulls the door open and Tango’s there, a nervous ball of energy, just about ready to bolt. “Pearl!” he calls. “Pearl, come on, we gotta go—” 

He grabs her by the arm and drags her off. Pearl just barely manages to close her front door behind her.

“Wha—? Where are we going? What’s going on?”

“Something washed up on shore,” Tango explains. “The whole town’s there, c’mon.”

Accepting that she’s not going to get an explanation out of him, and now deeply curious about this something, she lets Tango lead her down to the shore by the lighthouse. Sure enough, the whole town is there, a chattering crowd gathered around a spot on the shore that Pearl can’t quite see. Impulse is standing on the edge of the crowd and catches sight of them, raising his arm in a wave. Tango makes a beeline towards him, ducking under the crowd, and Pearl follows behind, apologising to False and Keralis as she bumps into them.

“Did you decide what to do with it yet?” Tango asks as he comes to a halt and finally lets Pearl go.

Impulse shakes his head. “We’ve decided it’s Gem’s call,” he says. “After all, she’s the—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence as the crowd suddenly goes silent and parts for Gem, her hair wild and eyes wide behind her thick-rimmed glasses. She’s got her lab coat pulled on over her day clothes, clearly not prepared for this in the slightest. She reaches the front of the crowd and stops dead still, staring at the thing that has washed up on the shore.

Pearl follows her friend’s gaze, and sees it for the first time.

It’s a body. Of course it is. A corpse, taken by the sea and ravaged by the waves and washed ashore by the brutal bay currents. The body’s clothes are torn and sodden, the skin beneath so pale that it could practically be paper. Pearl is stricken, for a moment, with the mental image of her taking a brush to this canvas, filling it back in with colour, painting contours back into its skin, breathing life back into the body.

She shakes her head violently, banishing the thought. Where did that come from? This isn’t a canvas, it’s—

It’s a person. A person who was alive, and is now dead, washed up on the beach like a dead whale and just as much of a spectacle. His eyes are open but rolled back, only the whites showing, and his hair is white too, just as pale as his skin. It stands as sharp contrast against the dark fabric of his torn clothes, a mask wrapped around the bottom half of his face.

Pearl swallows hard and averts her gaze back to Gem, who looks just as disturbed by the body as Pearl feels. It takes Gem longer to pull her eyes away, to glance around the crowd. “I’ll—I’ll take it back to my lab,” she says. “Investigate, and—and give him a proper burial.”

The words reassure the crowd, a low chatter beginning up again. 

“Skizz, will you help me carry him?” Gem calls.

Skizz does, stepping forward from the crowd and helping Gem maneuver the bloated corpse. Pearl finds herself looking at it again, noticing dark striations in the skin, caught in glimpses between the tears in the clothing as it’s moved. 

She shakes her head again, forces herself to look away as the body is carried out and the crowd disperses. The image of the body lingers in her mind. Something settles uncomfortably in her stomach, and she wishes that she’d never opened the door.

---

Things go back to normal after that. Or, well, as normal as they get in the village, at least. False monitors the currents and warns of any incoming floods or monster attacks. Impulse and Tango work maintenance on the fishing boats that Grian and Skizz and Keralis take out into the bay. Mumbo runs the fish market. Cub and Scar come and go along the trading routes. Joel maintains security, or at least the illusion of it.

Gem hides away in her lab running experiments she never explains, and Pearl paints.

She tries to return to her usual fare, brightly-coloured landscapes with fantastical features, but something about her paintings rings hollow when she looks at them. She decides she needs a change, to switch things up and just relax, so she pulls out her paints and a blank canvas and begins with no intentions. Her movements are fluid and free and thoughtless and she falls into a flow state that lasts hours, until she blinks her eyes and awakes to find a portrait before her, a colourless face in full saturation.

The corpse’s visage, so alive she can’t believe it’s not breathing, stares back at her from her easel, and Pearl flinches like she’s been burned.

She hides that painting away, face turned towards the wall, and returns to painting landscapes. They come easier now, and for a time Pearl feels normal, as long as she ignores the canvas in the corner.

It’s Impulse who notices that there’s something wrong first. It’s not surprising that he’d be the first to pick up on it, really. Skizz is his best friend, after all. Of course he’d notice when Skizz stopped laughing, stopped joking, stopped drumming out tunes with his fingers on the side of his boat. And when Pearl sees him, she notices changes too—his skin paler, like he’s spent several weeks locked inside a basement instead of out in the summer sun, his eyes no longer their regular bright blue.

“Hey, Skizzly,” she greets brightly, trying to play at normal, throwing him a bone to grab onto.

Skizz just glances at her before responding with a flat, “Oh, hey Pearl.”

Pearl’s smile falters. “How are you feeling? Impulse told me you’re a little under the weather.”

Skizz shrugs. “Fine, I guess. Did you need something?”

Pearl swallows, something cold sinking in her guts. “No, no, just checking in on you.”

“Gem already checked on me,” Skizz says. “She said I’m not sick.”

“Gem’s not that type of doctor,” Pearl reminds him with a weak smile.

Skizz shrugs again. “She’s the only doctor we’ve got.”

Pearl tries her best not to let that unsettle her.

---

It’s not just Skizz.

It starts with him, but it doesn’t end there. Keralis is next, and then Grian. Mumbo gets sickest the quickest, going from his anxious, affable self to a nearly-unresponsive husk within a week. That scares them all, because even Skizz is still responding when spoken to, still moving when instructed to, even after nearly a month of being infected with… whatever it is that’s going around.

False gets sick without anyone noticing, sequestered away in her lighthouse until she comes into town for groceries looking like a photograph that’s been left in the sun for too long, and that’s when people really start to panic.

And that’s when Gem declares, with all the authority that being a doctor of anthropology afforded her in a tiny town with no real doctor, that she’s putting everyone into quarantine until they can determine the source of the illness. 

“I’m not sick,” Pearl tells Gem when her friend knocks on her door, dressed in full lab gear, her hair out of its usual ponytail and falling forward around her face. She’s pretty sure she isn’t, at least, having hyper-analysed the shade of blue in her eyes in the mirror every morning for the past month. 

“I know,” Gem says. “I want to—I need to—can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Pearl says, stepping aside. “Of course.”

Gem enters, heading down the stairs into Pearl’s living space and staring at the paintings on the wall. Pearl watches her for a moment before stepping closer, resting a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“What’s eating you?” she asks.

Gem snorts out a laugh at that. “I’m not a real doctor, Pearl,” she says.

“I know that.”

“They all need me to be a real doctor for them. I—” She breaks off, runs an anxious hand through her hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I need help.”

Pearl raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know how I can help,” she says. “I’m even less of a doctor than you are.”

“I know,” Gem says. “But you’re my friend, and I trust you, and I need—please?”

She stares at Pearl, bright green eyes magnified through thick glasses lenses. Pearl has never been able to say no to those eyes.

“Okay,” she agrees, letting out an uncertain breath. “Okay. What do you need me to do, Dr. Tay?”

Gem laughs again, high-pitched and anxious, and Pearl feels hot and cold all at once.

---

They do house calls. Once a day, Gem and Pearl, and sometimes Impulse, will make a round of the village, checking in on everyone. Gem brings some of her lab equipment and a notebook, where she scribbles down all the readings she takes from her instruments and any observations she makes. After the first week or so, Pearl also takes to bringing a sketchbook and a small travel painting kit, attempting to record the desaturation rate in her friends’ colours. 

It doesn’t matter which way they look at it—the situation is bad, and rapidly getting worse. Most of the town is infected now, and Skizz is approaching Mumbo’s level of deterioration. Cub fell ill two weeks ago, and Tango—

Well, he’s not quite grey yet, but he looks washed out where he sits at his table, especially next to Gem, all bright copper and ocean blue and forest green. His voice is flat, all of the emotion in it gone, and while he responds in full sentences to Gem’s questions as Pearl attempts to capture the moulded-straw colour of his hair, none of his words sound like him. 

Gem wraps up her check-in, and Pearl follows her out, paints packed away in her bag and sketchbook held carefully so as not to smudge the paint. Impulse is waiting for them outside, staring out into the bay, where a low-lying fog has been hanging for days. 

He glances over at them, voice shaking as he asks, “How is he?”

Gem hesitates. “About the same?” she offers. 

Pearl shakes her head. “Worse,” she says, offering her sketchbook to Impulse, pointing out the differences in values between the colours she’d sampled from Tango two days ago to the ones she’d taken today. 

Impulse’s hands are trembling as he hands the sketchbook back to her. “What do we do?” he asks. “They just keep getting worse—Gem, what do we do?”

Gem’s eyes are fixed somewhere out at sea. Her expression is so scarily blank that Pearl would worry she was infected if not for how bright and vibrant she looks against the backdrop of the village. (Are the houses getting greyer? Surely not—surely it’s just the fog, and the fact that the sky has been overcast for a fortnight now—surely—)

“We look after them best we can,” Gem says. “I’m trying—every night I’m working on a cure.”

“And do you think it’ll work?” Impulse pushes.

“I have to,” Gem replies. “It has to.” 

Pearl swallows, and does not voice what all three of them are thinking: what if it doesn’t?

---

Impulse turns up one morning a shade dimmer than he had been the day before. Pearl notices immediately, her stomach lurching at the sight of him. He offers her a smile that’s smaller than his usual ones, a greeting that’s a little flatter than it would usually be. Pearl’s not sure if Gem even notices.

But Pearl notices, and her eyes sting, and she throws herself at him in a way that catches all three of them off-guard.

“Uh, Pearl?” Impulse says, stiff and uncomfortable beneath her. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Pearl mumbles against his ear.

“Pearl?” There’s a peak of distress in his voice but it’s not enough. Gem hears it, too.

“Oh no,” she breathes.

“Okay, guys, seriously,” Impulse says, pushing Pearl away. “What’s going on?”

They just stare at him.

Realisation dawns across Impulse’s face. “No.” 

“Maybe…” Gem sucks in a breath. She reaches out to take his hand and squeezes it. “Maybe you should go home, Impy. Get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” Impulse protests. “I’m…” His protest crumbles under their gazes. He slumps, and Pearl knows that he would normally never crumble like that. He’d protest and fight back and keep working until he passed out on the docks and had to be carried back to bed.

“C’mon,” she says softly. “I’ll help you home.”

Impulse doesn’t protest that either. He knows, as well as the two of them do, how this ends. He knows that there’s no fighting this.

Pearl, very valiantly, does not cry about it.

---

With everyone except the two of them infected, Pearl manages to convince Gem to split the rounds, with her taking half of the houses, and Gem taking the other half, swapping halves every couple of days. Gem is reluctant, but she has no good argument against Pearl’s that this is more practical, and so she agrees.

And that’s when Pearl notices.

She thinks she’s imagining it at first, but the colour swatches in her sketchbook back up her suspicions, damning evidence she can’t ignore.

When she visits her rounds, she finds that the people she’s visiting appear to have stabilised, at least for a couple days, no greyer today than they were when she saw them the day before. And then she swaps with Gem, and notices that Gem’s half of the rotation are far paler, far less responsive, than they had been the last time Pearl had seen them. They stabilise for a couple days, and then they switch, and Pearl’s original rotation have deteriorated massively in the several days since. 

There’s really only one conclusion she can draw from that, and she doesn’t want to draw it. She doesn’t want to believe that the one responsible for this is—

The fog is a permanent fixture of the village now, blanketing the bay in a thick blanket of quiet. Pearl finds it hard to sleep, even the familiar sound of waves muffled by the mist. Kept awake into the early hours of the morning, she finds herself in the studio, a brush in hand, letting the paint take her where it will.

And where it takes her is familiar: the village, desaturated and coated in fog, dark looming shapes in the mist beyond, rising out of the ocean. And there, in the midst of the painting, a bright spot in all the gloom, is Gem, so vibrant she practically lifts off the page.

Pearl stares at it for a long, long time, and then places it face against the wall and tries her best to forget about it.

---

In all the dread, they’d forgotten something important.

The sea isn’t safe. It never has been. Growing up in the bay you learn how to weather the storms, to predict the tides, to flee from floods. You learn how to build barriers, and you learn how to rebuild once the ocean drags them down. 

Pearl knows that her village can handle the sea: she’s seen them do it time and time again over the years. Together, they move as a well-oiled machine, responding to threats from the depths with weathered ease. That’s why she doesn’t expect it, she thinks. 

There’s never been a monster attack that False didn’t warn them about.

But False isn’t capable of doing much of anything at the moment.

And so when the tentacles rise from the waves, there isn’t a warning.

Just a deafening krk-crash that wakes Pearl from a dead sleep with a bolt of adrenaline that’s nearly nauseating. She scrambles from her blankets, still in her pajamas, and rushes up the stairs to throw on her boots. It’s edging towards winter now, the weather much milder than the summer months, and though it’s not cold by any stretch of the imagination the chill of the air still makes her shiver. She grits her teeth, racing from her front door to the village proper, and there—

There’s a sea monster, dark purple tentacles reaching out to the shore, destroying everything in its wake. The fish market is half gone, and it’s awful, but it’s a relief, in a way, because nobody lives there.

“Gem!” Pearl screams into the night.

“Pearl!” she hears echo back, followed by distant footsteps, growing ever-closer. 

Gem’s face is flushed, her hair wild, her eyes wide. She’s also in her pyjamas, her lab coat that’s been ever-present for months now gone, and Pearl finds her eyes drawn to dark striations in her skin. They look like—

“Pearl,” Gem says again. “We need to get everyone out, away from the shore, up to the research centre—”

Pearl nods. “Got it,” she says. She points towards the docks and says, “I’ll head over there.”

Gem nods. “Be safe,” she says, and then she’s off again, pelting in the direction of the lighthouse.

Pearl doesn’t bother knocking as she throws Impulse’s door open. He’s still lucid enough that he’s been startled awake by the noise, though it hasn’t driven him to do much more than put his shoes on and stare out of the window at the dark shapes rearing up out of the fog.

“Impulse!” Pearl cries.

“Pearl?” Impulse says, glancing at her with dull eyes.

“We need to get people out,” she says.

There’s an extended pause, then, “Okay.”

“Can you get Skizz?” she asks. “Tango, too, maybe? I need to go to the beach, help everyone down there.”

Another extended pause, then a nod. “I can do that,” Impulse says. He moves too slowly, not driven by the same panic flooding Pearl’s veins, but it’s good enough. It has to be. Pearl doesn’t have time to consider the alternative.

She goes racing off for the beach. She throws open Keralis’ door first, relieved that he is, at least, wearing underwear when she drags him from his bed and into the night. She leaves him there while she grabs Grian from his hut, and then takes them both by the wrists, pulling them along behind her while she races for the cliffside.

It feels like hours that she races back and forth, grabbing her friends from their homes and dragging them in various states of comprehension to the safety of the cliff before running back into the danger zone. Grian’s hut is gone, and so is a large portion of the road. The tentacles have taken a chunk out of the farms further up the coast. Gem’s been taking the people she rescues a different route up to the research facility, the path that Pearl’s taking cut off to her by debris.

Once she’s got everyone on her side of town, she collapses panting on the grass, her lungs aching with the strain. There’s a fire somewhere down on the shore, someone’s lantern knocked astray by swinging tentacles. Her eyes burn just from looking at it.

A voice says, “I got him.”

Pearl looks up.

It’s Impulse, manhandling a colourless, greyscale Skizz.

Pearl goes cold.

“Where’s Tango?” she asks.

Impulse blinks. Slowly. Too slowly.

“Oh,” he says. “I’ll go get him.”

Pearl shakes her head, rocketed up to her feet by panic once again. “No, I’ll go,” she gasps. “You stay here.”

And then she’s off running again, beelining for Tango’s house, praying to any higher power that will listen that she’s not too late. Her lungs ache. Her legs burn. She can’t quite catch her breath. She’s shaking.

And then she’s knocking down Tango’s door, grabbing him from his bed against the far wall, dragging him away—

The roof coming down sounds like thunder, like the sky split open and gutted for parts. Pearl goes down hard, stars bursting behind her eyes, her breath coming out empty and then as a whine. She blinks, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark, for her ears to stop ringing, and that’s when she hears it.

It’s—not a scream. More of a whimper, or a wail, stretched out and awful and pained and punctuated by short, desperate gasps. It goes straight to her stomach, straight to making her sick, and she doesn’t want to look. Doesn’t want to move.

But, god, she has to, doesn’t she?

She wiggles her fingers, her toes, and lets out a deep groan as she pushes herself up onto her hands and knees. The world has narrowed in on itself, the open air of Tango’s house reduced to a crawlspace, and she shuffles down it, rubble and debris tearing her skin open and leaving bloody red marks on desaturated wood. It is a far cry from the blood she finds, practically brown with how much colour has been leeched from it. 

“Oh, my god,” she chokes. “Tango…”

Tango just moans in response. She can’t tell if he’s pale from blood loss or pale from the infection, but either way it has the effect of making him look half dead. He’s half buried beneath the rubble, body jerking with what she can only assume is pain, barely felt beneath the weight of numb apathy.

“I gotta get you out of here.” The words taste acrid against her tongue. Or maybe that’s the smoke. She can’t tell. “I’ve got you.” She grabs Tango by his good arm and grimaces. “It’s gonna be okay.”

It’s not a reassurance for him. Not really. Pearl’s familiar enough with his condition by now to know that he can’t really care about being okay at this point.

It’s more for her as she does her best to get leverage in the small space and pulls. 

When Tango screams, she knows it’s completely involuntary, an animal howl of agony that stops her short. Pearl gasps, tears on her cheeks, head spinning. “Please, no,” she begs, and she doesn’t know if she’s talking to him or the higher power that’s been ignoring her for weeks. “No, no, I gotta—I—”

“Pearl?”

“Gem!” Pearl cries. “Gem, please, I need—it’s Tango—he’s—”

“I’ve got you,” says Gem’s voice, familiar and close as footsteps pound across rubble. There’s a series of grunts and clunks as rubble shifts, and then there’s light pouring into the crawlspace, which is no longer so much of a crawlspace. Gem stares at the two of them, Pearl in tears on her knees and Tango half buried and lying in his own dull blood. 

“Okay,” she gasps out, and she sounds terrified. “Okay,” she repeats, steadier this time. 

Pearl wants to be relieved, but she’s just on the other side of hysterical. Gem’s holding an axe, which she must have used to clear the rubble, and she steps forward with it held between white knuckles.

“Hold him still,” she tells Pearl.

Pearl swallows. “Gem?” she whispers.

“Please.”

Gem glances down at Pearl, and god, she never has been able to say no to that, has she?

She shuffles forward, puts her weight against Tango, holds him still. Squeezes her eyes shut.

It doesn’t make it any better.

It doesn’t stop her from hearing the sick crunch of the axe cutting through bone or the blood-curdling scream Tango lets out.

It doesn’t stop her from feeling the sudden lack of resistance as she pulls Tango’s bleeding body away from the rubble, leaving his arm behind.

---

Pearl manages to hold it together until they’re able to get Tango safe and stable. Once the wound has been cauterised and disinfected and bandaged, and he’s left sitting with a mostly-unresponsive Skizz and an Impulse who’s just aware enough to be awkward about how little he feels for his friend, she walks away from the town’s refugees on the hillside until she can no longer hear them, and they can no longer hear her. She stands for a moment, surveying the damage below, the sun rising over the sea and the flooded streets and destroyed buildings, and she sucks in a breath that knocks her to her knees.

The panic attack comes in quick half-breaths and waterlogged wails, her hands gripping at her hair and pulling it hard enough to hurt. The world blurs around her as she chokes on saltwater and bile, her ears ringing with screams and funeral bells. When the hands settle on her shoulders she barely feels them—only feels them when they rise to her wrists and untangle her fingers from her hair.

“—earl? Pearl. Look at me. Come on, I know you can do it.”

“Ge-em,” Pearl chokes out. “I can’t—I—”

“I’ve got you,” Gem soothes. She takes Pearl’s hands in hers, squeezes them tight, real and grounding. “See, come on, that’s it. Breathe with me.”

Pearl blinks tears from her eyes as she tries to time her breathing to Gem’s. She’s not very good at it, her heart too quick and Gem’s too slow, but it helps, dragging her down from the high of panic. 

“That’s it,” Gem breathes. She lets go of Pearl’s hand, reaching up to push the hair out of Pearl’s face, cupping her cheeks in her palms. “See? Nice and calm. Everything’s fine, see?”

“Yeah,” Pearl agrees, and the words feel hollow. Her panic feels hollow, somewhere above her body, her soul sunken to somewhere below her knees. She sucks in a breath, lets Gem wipe tears from her eyes with her thumbs.

Gem is so bright. A searchlight in a storm, a ray of rising sun through the dark. The world seems to grey around her. 

Pearl reaches out, splaying her hand against Gem’s cheek, a clumsy echo of Gem’s own reassuring, grounding touch. Gem is still so bright, vivid enough that Pearl doesn’t think any paint could capture it. 

And Pearl, held in comparison, is grey and dull. A shade, drained of life.

She swallows. Lets out a shaking breath. Looks up into Gem’s green eyes, sees the fear and regret in them, and can barely summon her own panic or hurt in return.

“Oh,” she says, and the word falls like a stone, plunging into the depths.

---

Pearl lets out a breath. “It was the body, wasn’t it?” she asks, loosening her grip. “The one that washed up. It did something to you.”

Gem swallows. She pulls away, holding onto her own wrist where Pearl had dropped it, clutching it to her chest. “I’m so hungry, Pearl,” she whispers. “I fade so fast now. I need… I need…”

“You’re going to kill us.” Gem flinches at the words. “You know that, don’t you, Gem? You’re going to kill us. You are killing us.”

“I just need your colours,” Gem replies, a whine in her voice. “I just…”

“What happens when we’re gone, Gem? What happens when you’ve taken all the colours? What happens then?”

Gem stares at her. There are tears in her eyes. They don’t quite fall, but Pearl can feel them drip into her hollow heart. There’s an ocean between them now and Pearl doesn’t have the wits to cross it. She doesn’t care enough to cross it, and she doesn’t feel enough to care about that. 

“I have to go and check on Impy,” Gem repeats, her voice thick. “I’ll see you later, Pearl.”

“You won’t,” Pearl calls after her as Gem hurries for the door.

Gem doesn’t reply, just slamming the door shut in response.

Pearl sits in bed for a long time, staring at the wall with hazy vision. Her thoughts are muffled under the thick fog that chokes the village, and so when she finally stands, she’s not entirely sure why. She lets her body carry her back to her studio, picks up a canvas from against the wall, and places it on her easel. She sits down in front of it and stares.

Gem’s face stares back at her, the only alive thing in a dead and colourless world.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [we are here!!!] OMG it took only 11 months omg soooo productive If you are not familiar - this is desertduo Fish Au comics I did I a while back :"D This chapter is more about Scar and his backstory, and right now he is about to meet the rest of the crew (omg whoo are theyyy) A huge thank you @mayvora for helping with the text! Their part was so great that I had to actually use my brain trying to write something even remotely on the same level because their writing is just insane please check out their works!!

--

Okay but for real thank you for reading all that, thank you for still remembering my silly little comics about two 1/4-fish men. I really appreciate every message, reblog, I read everything and It is still overwhelming how positive people are about this stuff. So thank you so much really. Usually I am too tired to react or respond for the most part (and after that it becomes weird), but i still read and cherish every single comment, they mean the world to me qq thank you so much for sticking around, see you in 2025 <3

💚💚💚🌟Therefore?.... Therefore! ✨💚💛❤️

Check out my youtube for the full video!

Wake up at 4 am to draw Would You Fall in Love With Me Again from Epic the Musical with treebark-

This is the part I want to draw with this song

Reunited with his anchor.. :”)

Yes this skin in from @/cherrifire I just wanna draw them with flowers and all

Here are all the little Hero/Villain designs I made for Martyn’s Wild Life video!

annnddd some of my fav traditional doodles for twitter holiday hermit requests :3

love wins(???)

fellas.. i actually have a short, less than 1k, oldish fic of teru and shou set in the until bruises form post-canon au,, it was gonna be a part of a longer fic but i kinda left it. i still have their scene full and intact though. would anyone be interested in reading that?