#the coding conundrum

[improvapocalyps]

“Let me die,” he whispered, crying now. “I know I’m not you. But who else can I be?” “Yourself.”

The Coding Conundrum, Ch.34 by @pixelfun20

[pixelfun20]

fic title game: going home to the ashes

(This is a spinoff drabble from my fic The Coding Conundrum bc with this title how could I not haha. But warnings for spoilers from ch14 and ch18 below the cut (though you strictly don’t need to know the fic to understand), and trigger warning for mentions of death.)

(Fic title game)

When the Watchers destroy a world, they leave behind Ash.

Grian knows more about the process than he really likes to admit. How the Watchers take a world and pull up the Void through the very bedrock of a server, using the burning, black nothing to make the air unbreathable, to kill the plants and dissolve anything that remained into a snowy ash. To thin the very air itself, to fill it with poison and suffocate any player lucky enough to survive Macan's swinging broadsword.

Usually, you need to combine the powers of both a natural-born admin and a Watcher to cause this level of destruction, one use their commands to break the bedrock, and one to pull and manipulate the void itself.

Grian had thought, now that he'd escaped, that Exae wouldn't have been able to destroy Evo. Apparently, he was wrong.

There had been many things that had been changed, deep inside him, when he'd been taken. The mask, the clothes, even the wings, once he'd been accepted. In the past few weeks, he'd shed them all; left the mask behind, burned his robes, cut off his wings.

But he cannot rid himself of the ability to breathe the poison, End-filled air of Evo. It is a burning reminder of what he cannot destroy.

Burying the bodies is backbreaking work. It looks like Macan had gotten to at least half the server, in their attack. He counts them as he finds them, closes their eyes and whispers their names. Mini Muka. Tomahawk. Salem. Zee.

Taurtis.

He finds their corpses scattered about the server, half-buried in the falling ash. The code of the world is broken, the chunks glitching in an out of reality at times, but Grian knows his creation, knows it well enough to find them from their lasted dredges of ones and zeroes.

He buries them at spawn.

Mumbo helps him.

Grian has never been more grateful for the existence of a single man in the entirety of his life. From noticing his disappearance, to getting Xisuma's help, to rescuing him and offering him a home and a shoulder to cry on and helping to find Evo and never ever expecting anything but friendship in return. Nothing but what Grian himself is willing to offer.

They bury the bodies together.

He doesn't know where the others are. Perhaps they escaped, made it out before Exae destroyed spawn. That's what Mumbo says, through the mask he needs to breathe here, optimistic comforts about Netty, his second-in-command, his replacement as admin, being among the missing. But it's also possible that their code is so destroyed that the trails that led him to the confirmed dead simply didn't remain for them.

It's hard to be optimistic, so Grian lets Mumbo do it for him, lets him whisper comforts about better places and escape. And then he lets him return to Xisuma's side, whispering something about plans as Hermitcraft's admin keeps his communicator open, practiced fingers throwing up protections to keep them from Exae's prying eyes.

He holds Taurtis' headphones in his hands, broken and frail in his hands, and grieves. He does not cry, but he stands there, looks out across these rudimentary graves, and grieves.

He'd let himself hope. Hermitcraft had been so extraordinarily kind to him, let him stay in their exclusive little server even though he'd only expected it to last a few weeks. He'd thought, that even though Exae had known about Evo, that his server would still exist, or that it would be intact enough for him to access the exit logs and find where they had gone.

Luck is not on his side, today.

Domrao had messaged him, back when he'd first escaped. An offer of refuge, a place to stay. They could go and live in his old creative worlds, or hide in the crowds of Wynncraft--Jumla or Salted had made it clear that he would always be welcomed there with open arms.

It's tempting. He might take him up on it. Maybe he'll stay on Hermitcraft. Or go off on his own. He's not sure.

Ash dusts the headphones, lands on his eyelashes and billows about with his breath. His home, once so vibrant and happy, is ash.

[guster-animations]

fuck watcher!grian, all my homies draw pixelfun30′s watcher!impulse

[a-plethora-of-peters]

Spoilers for The Coding Conundrum by @pixelfun20

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: the image is of photo of a pencil sketch of a seven frame comic for a scene from Chapter 21 of the Hermitcraft fanfic, The Coding Conundrum by pixelfun20.

The first frame shows a semi-detailed Cub dressed in his pharoh's outfit with his arms folded across his chest. There are armbands around his biceps and bracelets on his wrist. He looks exasperated. There is a speech bubble to the right of his head that reads. "Anyone have any ideas on what to do?"

The second frame has simplified drawings of Tango, Stress, and Mumbo. Tango has his feet up on the table and his arms behind his head looking bored, Stress has a simplified hand put to her chin and a flower crown on her head looking thoughtful, and Mumbo is wearing a short sleeved dress shirt with a tie and has no moustache and has a nervous expression. All three have question marks hovering over their heads.

The third frame is nested inside the bigger fourth frame. In the third frame, a simplified Scar in his wizard's robe without the beard has a look of surprise on his face as he hits his fist onto his open palm. There's an exclamation point to the right of his head.

The fourth frame is of a semi-detailed Scar turned three-quarters to the left. On his right cheek are three scars curving from under his eye down to his jaw, while on his left cheek is a scar that is almost touching the corner of his mouth. He has prominent cheekbones and a sharp nose that slightly slopes upwards at the tip. He is smiling as he says. "Hit Wels really hard over the head?"

The fifth frame is nested inside the sixth frame. A simplified Cub is staring speechlessly forwards. To his right is a speech bubble with an ellipsis inside it.

The sixth frame has another semi-detailed Cub pinching the bridge of his nose, obviously annoyed. There is a speech bubble to his left that reads. "We're not making him lose his memories like that." The "not" is underlined.

The seventh frame has a simplified Cub and Scar standing facing each other from opposite sides of the frame. Cub is on the left, Scar is on the right. Scar is pouting with his arms folded. Above his head is a speech bubble that reads. "But it's an option." Cub looks unamused and has his hands outstretched, gesturing as he speaks. Between the two is a speech bubble that comes from Cub that says. "No, Scar. I doubt he would agree to it, I doubt it would work, and I don't want the only person who knows how to properly use a sword mad at us." The "No" at the beginning of Cub's bubble is underlined. END DESCRIPTION]

[guster-animations]

i cant get over this

[guster-animations]

the coding conundrum: out of context

[pixelfun20]

How the fic writing’s going so far

[guster-animations]

[spoilers version for reblogs] fuck watcher!grian