This is my first time making one of these, but I hope the words I came up with work well enough as prompts! I wanted to try my hand at it, and it made the most sense with my favorite silly guys.
Each week is very loosely themed around a different series, but feel free to interpret the prompts however you like, so long as it's still related to Imp & Skizz! Art, writing, whatever medium you want :]
Tag your posts with #impskizztober, and have fun!
Short version under the cut, if you'd rather once-per-week!
I actually don't watch Naked and Scared and I wasn't sure what else to do, so i challenged myself! I drew without letting myself erase/undo to see how i'd do!
It....wasn't much different in the end. So uh- oop. I like this Skizz design tho so i my keep it!
"I'm gonna climb the Creaking Oak," Fuzzypaw whispers to Sunnyscar one day as they're training.
Behind them, the Oak creaks in the wind. There's a storm on the horizon, according to Hillspring--and Hillspring's never been wrong with these sorts of things, so. The wind blows harshly, because there's a storm coming, and the Oak's branches quiver in the wind.
"We aren't doing climbing practice today," Twitchtail tells him, flicking his tail dismissively. "Fighting practice instead. You know you're bad at fighting. We have to work on it."
"And it's too windy to do climbing, anyway," Sunnyscar points out. "Do you hear that Oak? If anyone climbs on that, well, it's a one-way trip to StarClan, I'll tell you."
Fuzzypaw crouches in the sandy clearing, gaze fixed on the Creaking Oak. It creaks ominously in the wind, true to its name. He doesn't even look deterred. His eyes flick from his two mentors to the tree, full of mischief.
Twitchtail sighs, the long-suffering sigh of a warrior who's trying to keep their apprentice from doing absolutely stupid things that will absolutely get a cat killed. "Cats have died falling from trees, you know. Flamechaser was in the healers' den for a moon after he fell from one during the war with BrineClan, you know."
Fuzzypaw snorts. "Well, of course I remember that, he was complaining to the Clan for the entire moon!" He pauses. "But I wanna climb it."
"Well, then, what about Turtlestar?" Sunnyscar meows, sitting down and licking a paw. "If you know how he is about warriors falling out of trees when they don't even die, well, what if you die? Turtlestar'd kill us too!"
"He's not gonna find out," Fuzzypaw meows, and then--before Sunnyscar can lunge forward and drag him back by the scruff, before Twitchtail can threaten him with camp confinement--he bounds over to the Creaking Oak and claws his way up to the lowest branch.
Twitchtail turns to Sunnyscar, eyes wide. Fuzzypaw's a good climber--even Sandyfeather, who's practically a bird with how good he is in the trees, had complimented him on it. He's not disappointing today. He balances even on pretty thin branches, crouching down on the branch even as it wobbles under his weight.
The Creaking Oak is a withered, weathered thing, bark rough and gray and clawed. Fuzzypaw leaps from branch to branch, skillfully planning out his next leap and scrabbling his way onto each branch. Sunnyscar and Twitchtail watch him, and prayers to StarClan race through Twitchtail's mind as Fuzzypaw leaps from branch to precarious branch.
A gust of wind comes blowing through the trees, shaking the leaves off their branches. Fuzzypaw flattens himself against the branch, claws digging into the bark. Even as the branch sways, he's still got that determined grin on his face that means that he's gonna do this even if it kills him.
Twitchtail's afraid it might come to that.
"Fuzzypaw, seriously!" he yowls, even though making himself heard over the howling wind is a challenge. "Get back down here!"
Fuzzypaw doesn't listen. Fuzzypaw hauls himself up the tree, and even when bark peels away under his claws--even as the gales come screaming in and buffeting his pelt--he still climbs.
"Fuzzypaw, I'll get Turtlestar to confine you to camp if you don't come back down right this second!" Sunnyscar shouts.
And Fuzzypaw--for the first time since he's begun climbing--glances back down at them.
There's an anticipatory smile on his face--like Twitchtail would actually compliment him for trying to climb a notoriously-difficult-to-climb-tree in such strong winds--that quickly fades as he sees their expressions. He opens his mouth to yowl something back down.
Before he can say anything, another gust of wind knocks into the branches, sharp and unbidden.
This one seems to take him by surprise. He drops down to flatten himself to the tree branch, and the branch--thin and wobbly already--bounces about under his weight. His fur is bristling, his tail twitching.
Please, StarClan, don't let him die, Twitchtail whispers under his breath. His claws dig into the ground.
(For a moment, an image of a dead Fuzzypaw flicks through his head. Of having to sit vigil for him. Of having to bury him, dig up a grave for him and lay him inside devoid of any brightness he'd had in life--of all that energy and warmth being brought to stillness--of a sickening crack as he hit the ground, of Fuzzypaw dying--all because Twitchtail hadn't been fast enough, he hadn't stopped his own apprentice from climbing the tree, he hadn't been able to mentor him correctly, he'd be an awful mentor--and his apprentice would be dead--)
Fuzzypaw does not die.
Sunnyscar thanks StarClan under his breath, even though Twitchtail can hear him clearly.
Fuzzypaw stares at the ground, and slowly, so carefully, jumps to the shaking branch beneath. Then the next, then the next, retracing his steps slowly and cautiously. The Oak creaks beneath each pawstep. Twitchtail keeps imagining him dead or dying, neck broken, spine twisted, a sudden yowl cut off short by death.
Finally, after far too long, Fuzzypaw leaps to the ground. He's shaking. Anxious purrs rumble loud in his chest as he crouches to the ground and ducks his head meekly.
Twitchtail cuffs him over the ear. "What were you thinking?" he hisses, trying to hide how his voice quivers. "You could've died! We would've had to bury you! I do not want to bury my own apprentice! You could've died, Fuzzypaw."
"I know," he mews, quiet and terrified.
Twitchtail looks at Fuzzypaw, absolute terror written into his expression. He leans over and licks Fuzzypaw's forehead. "Don't ever do that again," he meows sternly. "If we're not doing climbing practice, we're not doing climbing practice."
"I know."
"And you're getting confined to camp for at least a quarter-moon, if not more!" Sunnyscar meows, and, unlike Twitchtail, his worry's clearly evident in his voice. "You could've died! Turtlestar would've--and don't even think you're going to the next Gathering, I--" He exhales. "I'm just glad you're safe."
"Me too," Fuzzypaw meows, standing up. Licks his chest fur. His purring's gone down a bit, though it's not gone entirely.
Quietly, slowly, they head back to camp to tell Turtlestar the news.
Apparently Tumblr tags are still busted so if anyone sees this, feel free to tag me in your ImpSkizztober posts today (and comments of yesterday's, if you'd like)! I'd like to reblog stuff :]
please note that this story takes place in my pc/bs au, so you might not understand this if you haven't read that yet!
See, the thing about effects--status or not--is this: unless they're vanilla, a binary can undo them.
Of course not alone; a binary's only as strong as a normal player alone. But with both halves joined, well. There's something about that intimate chemistry, that ability to poke through another player's mind like it was your own, that allows you to slowly and carefully untangle a non-vanilla status effect from your binary's mind.
And of course it's sensitive, finicky, easily messed up or even amplified on accident. While there's been a few posts on the binary subreddit about it, well, most binaries don't use the subreddit.
If there's anything that would make a binary "dangerous", it would be that.
But, see, the thing is that's only non-vanilla. The Universe is looser about non-vanilla things, after all--non-vanilla deaths are far more likely to permanently kill you than vanilla deaths, non-vanilla mob hybrids are at higher risk of glitches and early perma-deaths due to the Universe not viewing them as valid as vanilla mob hybrids--but vanilla effects it's pretty strict on.
(They'd tried it, once, back on their old Naked and Scared worlds. Skizz had gotten a nasty wither scar, and, well. To say it was a painful experience would be a massive understatement. There had been something like a wall of wither, keeping the effect active, something Impulse couldn't untangle or pick at until it unravelled like a love potion or an amnesia potion.)
(It had felt like dying of wither himself.)
But anyways. The thing about vanilla effects is this; it's like you're feeling them through the bond. It's why Impulse and Skizz don't take fire res, water breathing, or other similar potions without at least warning the other binary first. Because if two binaries are bridging through the Nether, and one accidentally takes a fire res potion and shares the sensation through the bond, well...
But the thing about right now is this: he's pressed against the Nether brick wall, five--wait, no, six skeletons leering down at him, and if he doesn't eat the gapple in his inventory, he's not going to survive this.
Binary bonds are a little... staticky across dimensions. Like being sedated, a little--distant thoughts, foggy awareness, dulled shared emotions. But still, Impulse shouts out into the bond: Skizz, I'm gonna take a gapple, okay?
For a moment there's silence from the other side. The skellies come closer, eyes bright with soulflame. Their swords shine in the firelight of the Nether. He doesn't know where his spawn is; if he dies here, he's probably not gonna find his stuff again soon. Maybe at all.
Skizz? he calls out again, drawing his sword. If he knocks one back, the others are going to absolutely swarm him.
He should probably just eat the apple. Unless Skizz is, like, trying to defend his own base, well, there's worse potions to suddenly feel through a binary bond.
He takes out the apple.
One last time, he calls, Skizz! Skizz I'm gonna eat the apple! You good with that?
Eat it! Skizz suddenly shouts, his voice strained and quiet but very much audible. I'm fine, dude, but you can eat it!
Impulse pulses over a flash of gratitude and wolfs down the apple.
See, the thing about golden apples are this: the effects it promises are absorption and regen. The thing about those two effects is this: that absorption feels like a brightening, like a light turning on in a dusty room, like an idea you've finally grasped; that regen feels like a soft blooming warmth in your chest, like acceptance, like an easy exhale.
The thing about golden apples themselves is: they do not advertise the fact that they taste like victory.
The thing about that is this: Impulse bites into the apple and it's not just his own victories he tastes. He tastes the time Skizz killed Cleo and Jimmy in Third Life; he tastes the moment Skizz got invited to Hermitcraft. And he tastes the finishing of the witch farm all the way back in Season Three, and he tastes nearly winning Limited Life.
Quietly, the victories whisper in his ear, reminding him of how he's won, how much he's won, how well he's won. That sort of Skizz-like confidence fills him to brimming, warm and bright and absolutely self-assured.
He's going to come out of this alive.
He knows it.
He lifts the sword and stabs one of the skeletons, and then he charges forward into battle.
"Desert temple!" Skizz shouts, spotting the structure protruding from the sand as they fly over a desert.Â
"Oh! That means a village should be nearby,â Gem remarks.
"Aren't we gonna explore the temple?"Â
Grian shrugs, twisting in the air as he tries to spot a village with Gem. "I doubt it's worth it, anything it might have we've already got loads of. It's probably already been raided anyway."Â
Skizz hums, casting a glance at Impulse. He glances down at the temple, then meets his eyes again. Impulse shrugs, but a little quirk of his lips is all the answer Skizz needs.Â
"Me and Dippledop are gonna check anyway!"Â
"I guess we can have a detour," Gem says. "I have brushes, we could look for sand to brush while they do that."
Grian doesn't look entirely convinced, but Skizz dives downward before he has any time to protest, Impulse flying close behind him. They land at the top of the pyramid together and exchange a grin before they hop into the temple.Â
Dust and sand rain down from the ceiling as their rough entry disturbs it. Skizz shakes his wings, making sure no grime ends up in them. Impulse, meanwhile, immediately gets to digging a staircase. As soon as he notices, Skizz darts after him.
"Careful, dude, don't push me in!" Impulse warns, pressing against the wall.Â
"I wouldn't!"Â
The scene feels oddly familiarâ but it is a pretty normal experience. Skizz is certain they've raided tons of these things together in the past. Still. It rings of something a little more meaningful.Â
Skizz places torches behind Impulse to light the way, and they make it to the bottom without blowing anything up. The instant the pressure plate breaks, Skizz dives past Impulse for the chests, only grinning as he makes an offended noise. "Hey! I did all the work!"Â
"Should've been faster if you wanted the loot!"Â
He's tackled for that. They tumble directly into the space where the pressure plate had been moments before. Skizz is clumsy in the small space, wings too big for it as they flare out and only make his movements even more awkward. Impulse pins him down with ease and a challenging look, and Skizz groans playfully.Â
"Fine! Fine, gosh, you can open them. I guess you earned it."Â
"So kind of you to decide that."Â
Just to make sure he gets it, Impulse doesn't get off of Skizz as he reaches for a chest. Skizz grumbles and tries to block him, but Impulse is quick this time, and opens the chest with a victorious, "Ah hah!"Â
"Jerk," Skizz mutters, shoving him off. He giggles as Impulse flops to the floor and shoots him a glare, one hand still stuck in the chest.Â
"You started it."Â
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. What's in the chest, homeh buddeh?"Â
"Uhh... sand, bonesâ oh!"Â
"What, what?"Â
Impulse lifts out a golden apple. A regular one, but it still shines in the torchlight. The metallic surface reflects more than just the lightâ it's memories for both of them, years of history, the moments that shaped the bond both metaphorically and literally tying them together. It's not the first golden apple Skizz has seen on Hermitcraft, of course. But there's something special about it. Maybe it's the fact it rests in Impulse's palmâ the fact they found it here together, like old times.
âI feel like this is the least normal reaction to finding a golden apple this late in a season. We've both just been staring in awe for the last minute.âÂ
Skizz laughs, wrapping an arm around Impulseâs shoulders. âThat's âcause it's special. To us.âÂ
He expects Impulse to shrug him off, but to his surprise, Impulse just hums, leaning back into his chest. He holds the apple gently in his hand, running a thumb over the golden surface. âYeah.âÂ
Both fall quiet, lost in thought. Skizz lets his mind wander back to a board of quartz, a book of challenges, and a golden apple each.
Impulse turns suddenly, offering the apple to Skizz. âYou should take it. Put it up on your wall.âÂ
Skizz grins. âIt'd look good up there, huh?âÂ
âBetter than the poop.âÂ
Skizz snatches the golden apple and swats him with a wing. Impulse laughs through a face full of feathers.Â
âWhat are you boys doing down there?â Gem calls, startling them both. âGrian's leaving us behind for the village! Hurry up!âÂ
âGuess we should grab the rest of this stuff and go before Gem leaves us too,â Skizz chuckles.Â
Impulse hums in agreement, collecting the rest of the chestsâ contents. As he does so, his tail brushes Skizzâs leg, absentmindedly, but affectionate all the same.Â
Skizz tucks the apple away in his inventory for safe keeping.Â
Later, it's proudly displayed on his starter base wall.
