#skizz fanfic

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 10 - Blow to the Head

title: head explodes. ouch. gets up and acts normal.

fandom: hermitcraft smp

cw: blood, head injury

~

Skizz’s build is not stupid.

Ugly? Sure. He’ll call it ugly. It’s an ugly mess of deepslate.

But stupid? Not in a million years. He’s a Hermit, after all (and the name fills him with pride, makes his chest puff out). Nothing he works on is stupid, by nature of being a Hermit. The Hermits aren’t stupid.

Except Impulse. Impulse is pretty stupid.

Skizz’s build isn’t stupid.

That’s what Skizz tells himself, day after day as he lugs stone bricks up the ever-growing pyramid, his walk getting longer and longer the taller it gets.

“It’s not stupid, it’s not stupid, it’s not stupid,” Skizz grunts, pushing and heaving at a stubborn chunk of rock. It’s going to be beautiful! His beautiful hierarchy of needs pyramid. The other Hermits won’t know what hit ‘em.

Skizz doesn’t really know what hits him either, at first.

One moment he’s there, heaving with this stupid rock, and the next—

He’s on his back, the scaffolding bridge creaking under him.

He blinks, and his vision explodes into pain.

His head is—his head is rupturing, it feels like—like someone swung a baseball bat at him as hard as they could, like someone dropped a bowling ball on his head. It hurts, it hurts more than anything that he’s ever felt, hurts more than his aches from shifting stone, more than a creeper explosion, more than his appendix bursting when he was nine.

It hurts. A lot.

Skizz’s arms feel like jello when he lifts a hand to feel his head, gingerly brushing around the most painful parts. He’s crying, he realizes dumbly, tears streaming down his face at a rate unheard of.

His hand comes away dripping with blood.

What? Did his head actually burst?

That can’t be good.

Skizz doesn’t really know how he manages it, but after a couple of long moments of lying on the scaffolding, he finally manages to roll over, getting his shaky arms under him and pushing himself to his knees.

He feels terrible. Probably the worst he’s ever felt. He might puke from the pain, honestly.

Looking down gives him the dizzying sense of how high up he really is. How is he meant to get down from here without calling for help?

He really doesn’t want to call for help. The other Hermits would never just let their head explode. Rookie mistake.

He can’t see all that well. The ground far, far below is hazy and spinning, just enough that his eyes can’t focus on it. He can probably land on it though, right?

If he falls. If he lets himself slip off the edge, engage his elytra. Yeah. Yeah, elytra. Why was he thinking to try and climb down from here? That’s stupid.

Then, before Skizz can consciously think about it, he’s falling.

His stomach lurches to his throat as the world tilts even more, rapidly whirling around him, and the wind tears at his broken skull in ways that he can’t quite understand but can definitely feel.

This isn’t good. No, wait, he’s falling—

It’s instinct that saves him more than anything, his elytra flicking open at the last second to slow his descent, and Skizz lands on his knees on the ground and once again almost pukes.

Ohhhh man. That was not a good feeling. 

Skizz groans lowly, balls up his trembling fists. He’s got this. He can get to his bed without passing out or vomiting.

There’s a chunk of deepslate beside him, the size of a small dog. He stares at it as it pulses, one side of it splattered with red.

His fingers brush it briefly, its sharp edges rough under the pads of his fingertips.

Why is it here?

He ignores the rock for now, and just stumbles to his feet as best he can (which means to his knees, too unsteady to get all the way upright). He crawls, every breath coming in a gasp, his knees slipping out from under him.

There’s liquid dripping down his neck. He can’t lift his hand to see what it is, he just has to keep going. If he can get to his bed, he can take a little nap and be fine.

He can be fine. He just needs to rest. He has—he has the world’s worst migraine. That’s all it is. He needs to sleep it off.

His eyes are closed. He opens them.

It hurts. Everything is pulsing and too-bright and too-loud and—

His eyes are closed. He opens them.

He can see his bedroom door. He can smell blood. It’s right there, though, somehow he got here through all the pain and he can rest.

His eyes are closed. He opens them.

His bed is there.

-

“Oh, Skizz! Skizzleman! Come on, we have official permit business! Are you in here?”

Skizz’s mouth is dry. His mouth is dry and he can’t open his eyes, his head—

It feels like someone split open his head with an axe. It feels like he’s going to die.

“. . . Um, Skizz? Skizz, there’s . . . there’s a lot of blood. . . .”

Skizz licks his lips. He’s so tired. He could pass out right here, right now, wherever it is he is. He probably will.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, Skizz—”

Someone touches him, touches his head and it hurts it hurts it hurts—

“Oh no, okay, what happened? Can you hear me? Skizz? I’m calling for help, don’t worry, uh—”

Skizz pries open his eyes.

He can’t see.

He can kind of see. There’s wayyy too many black dots swimming across his vision, and he can kind of see a familiar face that he can’t quite put a name to. He moves his lips, tries to speak, but the words don’t surface.

He closes his eyes—just for a moment—and there’s another face there.

Impulse.

Impulse smiles at him, squeezes his hand. He’s holding his hand. That’s nice.

“You,” Impulse says, leaning in close, “are so stupid. You hear me, Skizz? Stupid.”

Skizz blinks.

His head really, really hurts.

-

“Drugs are great,” Skizz says, tugging at his hospital bracelet. “I love drugs. Do you love drugs?”

Impulse huffs out a laugh. “Dude. Shut up.”

“I can’t even feel my head explosion,” continues Skizz. “It feels so good.”

“Your head didn’t explode, idiot. Why weren’t you wearing a hardhat, huh? You know how dangerous brain damage can be in a respawn.”

Skizz doesn’t answer that. He hadn’t even realized there was a loose chunk of stone above him. He didn’t know he needed a hardhat.

“I was kind of scared,” he admits. It feels silly, now. “I didn’t know what happened. I was just—boom. You know?”

“That’s why you need a hardhat.”

The drugs really do feel good.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles. “How many stitches?”

“Thirty-three.”

“Good number. Three-three.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“Jerk.”

“Stupid.”

“Love ya.”

“Love ya.”

[yusakiiiii]

Hermit Life:

Chapter 13: Alone

I just released the thirteenth chapter of my fanfic series Hermit Life. Where strange goings on on the Hermitcraft server lead to them having to evacuate to a new server, but they accidentally end up in a new Life Series!

Check it out if you’re interested!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56118070/chapters/158704990

[cannibal-walleye]

Chapter 11, in which Impulse dies of heatstroke :)

Why does he die, you ask?

Well.

This.

LINK LINK LINK LINK GO READ RIGHT NOWWWWW

[amethystfairy1]

This is a bit long but I've been thinking...

So courting rituals are a thing in ttsbc, but it's never specified if they also exist in tt. Obviously the avian's would never teach their young about something like that, and Ren has been captured his entire life so no one's been able to teach him, but is it possible that they like "subconsciously" exist? Like when Martyn was washing Rens hair and combing it (grooming) did that make Ren become more attached to Martyn? And when Mumbo and Scar gave Grian his sweater or when Impulse gave Skizz a WARM (i repeat warm) hug did it also get them to trust their "master's" more (though in like a platonic way)?

Also after the most recent treebark chapter when Ren is snuggling up to Martyns neck, like he just knows he wants to (and that it's feels important) but doesn't really know or understand why.

If not that's fine, but I feel like it would be so cool if that existed!

👀👀👀

Just because they don’t express them, just because they’ve had to wipe those important little rituals away, doesn’t mean they never existed 🥰 which is exactly why I tried to hit those notes…while courting rituals aren’t crucial rites like they are in TTSBC, they do still exist, even if all the hybrids we know in the story have been forced to forget them!

[alicenotalice]

It was an honor to write for the @hotguycomiczine! Thank you to @violet-fire-cat for editing!

Please enjoy this interlude, and check out the rest of the zinethology!

[START] [PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

[MERCH] [MISC]

[azurbright]

SKizz and Impulse bein a married Couple and also dads?? Towards the younger hermits?? Pretty please <3

Thank you for the ask!! I think this is so wonderfully cute. Skizz and Impulse are not only our dads but also the dads to some of the other hermits. I'd say maybe Gem and Joel. And just a general father figure to the others.

(Writing about the personas and just being silly, not the real people)

Skizz and Impulse, as sickeningly cute as it is, were still annoying about being in love with each other after all these years. They had been married for 10 years now, and they have two lovely adopted children.

It had always sort of upset the two men when they remembered that Gem and Joel weren't their biological kids but it didn't really matter to the kiddos, they just loved their dad's, and that their dad's loved them.

"Daaaddddd," Gem whined out walking into the living room of their house.

"Yes?" Both Skizz and Impulse responded, they laughed lightly at the mix up.

"Joel's being mean." She crossed her arms as Joel followed suite into the room.

He huffed, "its not my fault, she was being a bitch."

"Hey," Impulse said gently, "don't call your sister the B- word, what happened?"

They both started to talk and yell over each other. "The point is, she stole it." Joel finally finished.

THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Gem was screeching in her highest pitch, "HE TOOK MY, AMETHYST."

"What do either of you need with amethyst?" Skizz spoke up.

"Pearl gave it to me." Gem breathed, it made sense now.

"Joel, you have to give it back." Impulse still was soft.

Joel rolled his eyes, "I didn't take it."

"Don't you roll your eyes at your father, young man." Skizz almost laughed at how cliché he sounded.

"I didn't take it, I borrowed it for something I was making." Joel sighed, quietly, "I was going to give it back, but she barged into my room." He pointed his eyes at her.

"Right, that's fine, but you can't take things without asking. You should know this." Impulse smiled at him. "Just apologize and don't take things anymore."

Joel sighed once again, "Fine, sorry for taking your crystals," He breathed out, "it probably won't happen again."

Gem smiled because she had won this time, "Sure thing." She patted him on the shoulder and walked off to her room as happy as could be. Joel then followed in pursuit of his own room, sauntering off.

"Do you think I need to be harder on them?" Impulse turned to his husband.

Skizz gave him a confused look, "Why do you think that?"

"Well, I don't know, maybe we're just setting them up for failure. We have the same conversations constantly." He said the words a little sad.

Skizz shook his head and got up, going to sit next to the solemn man. "That's just the way it is being parents. Kids are strange like that." He pressed a kiss to the others' forehead. He held his hands inside his and leaned his head to rest against Impulses, shoulder comforting him in silence before speaking up once again. "I'd say we're damn good parents."

Impulse laughed at this, laying his head on top of Skizzs' "Yeah, we are," He sighed, smiling. He wrapped his arms around Skizz in a warm embrace. They were now cuddling on the couch in a strange position. Things like this often happened. They were good at keeping each other grounded. "I love you" Impulse yawned, pulling Skizz closer.

"I love you too." He smiled, closing his eyes. This was likely to turn into their daily nap, just as it usually did. As they fell asleep, they remembered how content they were and how domestic of scene this was.

[deityoftherain]

severed ties - fallen stars au

Rating: Mature

Relationship: Gen, M/M

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Chapters: 4/4 Chapters | Completed

Word Count: 10,632

Summary: TIES used to be a thriving friend group once upon a time, but their relationships started to crumble after Impulse and Skizz's untimely break-up, leaving Tango and Etho to pick up the remaining pieces. With their ties being severed in more ways than one, each friend is left to try and cope in their own way.

I recommend reading no dice first if you don't want spoilers for this part of my fallen stars au!

[khoirkid]

Dreaming for Me - art for @amethystfairy1

Go check out her latest chapter!!!

[inkieflame]

I have a question/writing prompt (you can choose what to do with it) about your lab AU!

How was Impulse coping when he found out that Skizz escaped after the fire in the Last Life lab? Or did he even know that Skizz escaped, or did the watchers just let him believe the fire had killed Skizz? And what did Impulse do when Skizz willingly turned himself back in?

I want Imp and Skizz angst :3

‘Cause you’ll miss the sun (The warmth of another’s embrace)

An Imp and Skizz fic

Word count: 2100

Trigger warnings: drugs, implied death, blood drawing, firearms

Aka: Skizz is gone and Impulse is coping. Featuring failed escape attempts and flat lines.

It doesn’t take long for Impulse to realize people are missing.

The past few hours have been overwhelming. Being soulbound to Bdubs, Impulse hasn’t had a moment of silence yet. And part of that is nice, because it means he has a distraction from this sense of dread that has begun to loom over him.

Because Impulse hasn’t seen his best friend yet.

He knows that Lizzie missing too, from how Joel is dragging his new soulmate around the facility as he looks for her. Etho looks exhausted from all the movement, and Impulse thinks he might pass out the moment Joel lets him rest.

That night, Impulse still hasn’t seen Skizz yet. He falls asleep to the rhythm of Bdubs counting next to him.

…

Impulse is no stranger to the medical center.

Bleach white walls covered with propaganda-like posters telling the subjects “we care for you!” and “good subjects take their meds on time!” the right wall has two doors, both leading to surgery rooms that Impulse is intimately familiar with. One large screen takes up the majority of the left wall, divided up into about two dozen sections labeled with various subject’s names. Underneath their names are heartbeat monitors.

Impulse doesn’t recognize some of the few few names. Grian, Martyn, Jimmy, those he does know, but Taurtis? Salem? Netty? Impulse doesn’t know them, and he knows that’s because of the flat lines under their names.

When he visits the Double Life medical center for the first time, he can’t help but scan the screen for Skizz’s name. He dreads the flat line, and is confused when the screen shows his heartbeat drumming on steadily.

Somewhere, Skizz is alive.

Just not with Impulse.

The Watcher who brought him here guides Impulse to the chair nearby, and he sits. They turn to ready their equipment, and Impulse keeps his gaze on the screen across from him.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Skizz keeps living and breathing. Thump thump.

The Watcher takes him arm and puts it up on the counter next to him. Impulse keeps his eyes trained on the screen. He doesn’t like to look when they put the needle in.

There is a pinch and Impulse clenches his teeth quietly. He pain subsides quickly, and the Watcher turns to start the pump.

Impulse doesn’t know why the Watchers collect his blood, he assumes they donate it, or sell it. Either way, he’s always in the medical center for it. Once a week, always at one.

Recently this time has been nice. It’s a few minutes of silence where he’s detached from Bdub’s and his constant murmuring. The blood draining makes him lightheaded and dizzy, but it’s not painful. So Impulse will find comfort in it.

…

The alarms wakes the entire facility.

Normally there are small alarms. Sirens contained to the medical center, and the devices the Watchers have. They go off when a subject is in danger.

Sometimes these alarms go off for Jimmy, when he’s out on rental and the Watchers need to go pull him out.

But this blaring noise is deafening. It rings out, one constant tone, stretching on forever and ever. Impulse doesn’t know what it’s for.

He makes his way out of his bed, wanting to crane his head down the hall and see who else was woken. But Bdubs groans and pulls back on the chain.

“Time to shreep.” He mumbles. “Too early.”

Through the open window Impulse can see Bigb, charging down the hall looking panicked. Ren is at his heels, whining and barking at the sirens.

Close behind them, Martyn is checking every room, with Cleo complaining loudly behind him.

His door opens, “Are you alive?” Martyn asks and, seeing Impulse sitting there with Bdubs still beside him, barges in.

“Martyn!” Cleo snaps, “Stop dragging me! What are you doing?”

Martyn wastes no time in grabbing Bdubs and shaking him awake, “’Dubs? Are you there?”

When Bdubs groans weakly and pushes Martyn away, Martyn let’s out a breath of relief.

“Next room.” He demands, but Cleo stands stubbornly in the doorway.

“What is happening?” She says.

Martyn shoves at her, clearly panicked, “Cleo, move, we don’t have time for this.”

“What does the alarm mean!?” She shouts, even though she doesn’t need to shout to be heard over the noise.

“it means someone has died, okay, now move.” Martyn pushes past her, “and we need to figure out who it was, and if it was someone here or rented.”

“why?!”

Martyn stops and looks at Impulse, “get ready to run.” He says, “it might be tonight.”

And then they are both gone.

And Bdubs is already asleep again.

…

Impulse ends up carrying his sleeping soulmate. Bdubs manages to sleep through the alarms.

Most of the subjects are in the lobby, waiting. Impulse sees Martyn eyeing the red lights of the security cameras.

As soon as those lights turn off Martyn waves, getting the group’s attention.

“Hey! Hey, guys, listen.” He says, “we don’t have long, so pay attention.”

The group quiets curiously.

“Etho and Joel have just turned off the camera system, but the back up system will be on in about ten minutes.” Martyn starts, “Skizz just flat lined, so most of the Watchers are out of the lab. This is the best time to coordinate escape.”

Skizz? Skizz flat lined?

The thought settles in Impulse’s stomach like a millstone in a lake. Skizz flat lined.

Martyn is still talking. He’s handing something out to a few of the subjects. There is a copy of the lab passed around.

But Impulse isn’t really paying attention to any of it.

He can’t be dead.

He can’t.

But the alarm hasn’t stopped, and to Impulse it sounds like the constant monotonous tone of a flat line.

…

The escape fails.

Of course it does, there was no way that it could succeed. They still hadn’t gotten use to moving while tethered to someone. And Tango and Etho were drugged and sleepy. And Ren barked at any foreign movement.

And the Watchers came back far too soon.

Impulse doesn’t think they ever found Skizz. They were still in and out of the lab for hours after their initial return. He knows that if they find him soon enough, they could put him back together.

He's seen it a few times with Jimmy. The little alarms go off, a noise contained to the medical center, and the all Watchers go into a flurry to retrieve him from his renters.

He’s brought into the operating room limp, and walks out just a fine a few hours later. The Watchers are irritated after that. All tires and angry like it has taken too much out of them to keep him alive.

Impulse wonders how long they have after death to bring someone back. It has been hours, almost a full day, since Skizz’s alarm.

The system wide noise has been silenced, but Impulse can still hear the ringing of the flat line when he walks by the medical center.

…

Impulse cannot be soothed.

Bdubs can tell this, first because the weeks of close quarters has taught him how to read Impulse, and second because of how he can barely hold a conversation.

Every word has a bite to it, teeth laced with venom and fury and broken glass. Impulse doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He doesn’t want to feel anymore. Everything hurts, and everything aches, and it’s been days and days without rest from this.

The Watchers sing no dirge. There is no requiem for Impulse to hold to dearly.

Only quiet empty space, and the rhythmic counting that Bdubs has never stopped. Softly counting to the next day Impulse has to face without Skizz.

There is an anger and an ache.

And it stays and stays.

…

It is about noon when the lobby wall explodes outwards, and the subjects around it leap up and out of the way.

A black van crashes into the room, swerving to a stop.

Impulse and Bdubs are in the lobby with Etho and Joel when it happens. Etho lifts his sleepy head to stare at the rubble. Joel openly gapes.

The driver side door slams open, and Impulse feels his heart drum. Skizz stands there, pale wings, bright halo, dressed in a hoodie and jeans like he’s never seen the horrors of the lab. There is no uniform, and no collar.

Skizz hurries to open the side door, “I’m getting y’all out of here.” He shouts, “get in the van, get in the van!”

Joel tugs suddenly at Etho’s chain, but Etho needs to encouragement. They’re both hurrying to the car doors.

Skizz catches Impulse’s eyes. Impulse swallows, frozen.

“Hey man!” Skizz beams at him. Sunshine and sunshine, “Get in the van, let’s go!”

Bdubs is tugging at him, but Impulse can only stare.

“I thought you were dead.” He thinks, or whispers, or screams. “I thought you were dead.”

Skizz puts a firm hand on his shoulder, “Good to see you, dude.”

Around them, other subjects are gravitating to the noise. Skizz helps Impulse and Bdubs into the van, and others are joining them. Jimmy and Tango. Scott.

“Someone go find Scar, make sure he’s not stuck somewhere.” Skizz orders, “Ren too. I’m not leaving anyone behind.”

Impulse crams into the back of the van, feeling the way the weight shifts and creaks as all thirteen of them make their way on.

Etho murmurs something to Joel about Watchers. Next to him, Tango is nodding off, unable to stay away despite the chaos around him.

“Where’s Martyn?” Skizz asks, counting each of the people in the van, “and Pearl. Where are they?”

“Rented.” Scott says. “they’re not here right now.” Instead of Pearl, Scott seems to be tethered to a weight. Cleo has the same ball-and-chain attached to her.

Skizz grimaces.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Scar shouts. “Sorry, we couldn’t get Grian to move.”

When Impulse cranes his head to look out the tinted windows, he can see Bigb sprinting up to the van, desperately pushing a wheelchair with both Scar and Grian in it. Grian is twitching angrily like he’s upset at being saved. Ren is bounding right behind them.

Skizz does another count as Scar is lifted out of his chair and pulled into someone’s lap. Grian is tugged along too, although he looks like he might start to fight back soon. Ren is pushed into the van, and Bigb closes the door behind him.

“That’s everyone. Go.” Joel demands.

“Pearl and Martyn-” Scott begins weakly, and his protests are shut down by the jolt of the van.

Impulse can see the Watchers surrounding the vehicle, just a few minutes too late to stop them from all getting in.

They are shouting, but the purring of the engine and the walls of the van are soft and sweet, letting no violence in. Skizz steps on the gas, and cranks the wheel to drive right back out of the lobby.

There is a small series of beeping that comes from everyone’s collar.

Ren jumps up, clearly panicked by the noise. Or maybe he knows what it means.

Because a moment later there is a prick at the back of Impulse’s neck, right where his collar meets his skin.

His stomach drops with the realization.

Etho recognizes it too, “We’ve just been drugged.” He mumbles. Then he turns to Skizz, “Skizz, they got us.”

But his words slur, and Skizz can only glance at him in confusion. The van goes barreling through the opening of the wall.

There are distant gunshots.

Impulse is nodding off, but he knows that’s weird. The Watchers don’t shoot at them, they would get hurt. Why guns now?

The vehicle stutters underneath them, and Skizz swears.

They swerve as they make it outside. The van is failing for sure, but Skizz keeps urging it on.

Impulse passes out before the car stops.

…

Impulse almost expects to wake up back home.

Maybe on the couch, curled next to his best friend. Or maybe in bed with his wife at his side.

But he is greeted with the same white walls. The same collar at his throat. He’s not tied to Bdubs anymore, but he still feels anchored to this place.

Next to him, Skizz is waking slowly. He is in uniform again, metal collar and all. He groans and rubs his eyes, and Impulse feels his stomach twist.

They had been so close.

He could taste it.

But still, they end up back here again. And like always Grian is standing and gesturing grandly around the new building.

“Welcome to Limited Life.” He declares, “Enjoy your stay.”

[astraymetronome]

nomie i hate paperwork :(((((

can i offer you the trade of a predsuma story for a silly art sometime in the future? i just think hes the most guy ever and ive already read all the fics i can find of him ;-;

i dont have good context for it but im pretty sure if you go into the headcanons channel and just keyword xisuma by pop you will find so many results. x and predsuma are also likely to have stuff under them. i talk about him a lot.

I'm posting this right before heading into work. Thank you to @a-smol-storm-gt-nomfs-blog for beta reading this for me and I hope you like you're predsuma Pop! I shall be in contact in regards to the promised art with my quiry. Thank you. <3

Xisuma pulled his mask off his face, taking a deep breath of the air. The burn of oxygen made his lungs scream but at least it was enough to wake him. He was used to the occasional change in the air regardless of how it felt since he’d experienced the same reaction since childhood. The life of a void walker wasn’t supposed to leave the void since they were considered a part of it making their lungs unable to withstand oxygen for long periods. He still liked the sting sometimes, often removing it for the sake of that burn, just like now. 

He was sitting in his home, a building waiting to be continued but his body was completely exhausted. Suma had been up for a while, having spent the last twelve hours patching up the code error Doc had caused with his latest world eater. He was frustrated by it but at least the creeper hybrid had thought to tell him this time before one of the hermits ended up in a death loop he couldn't stop again. Tango had been so exhausted last time, having spent a solid two hours falling into the void nonstop, but at least he’d not have any permanent issues other than being light-headed for a few hours afterward. 

The admin wasn’t in the mood for this to happen again but he’d fixed enough of it so that no one in the server might get pulled into a death loop. He slid his mask back up, latching the thing as it sucked the trapped oxygen out leaving him with a mix of hydrogen and helium instead. His lungs relaxed at the sensation, his breathing gentle and easy now that the harsh compound was gone. 

The void walker knew he needed to take a break but he needed to make sure the code issue was completely solved. He also knew that it wouldn’t be long before someone showed up to make sure he didn’t pass out at his desk again. He sighed for a moment, rubbing his neck as his eyes drifted over to the counter and a familiar voice hit his ears. “Hey Sumashuma!” 

X couldn’t help a small smile at the sight of the familiar angel hybrid, his eyes took in his small form made to be the angel on your shoulder and similarly mirrored by Impulse, a demon hybrid of the same stature. He had to admit it was ironic that the two tinies were best friends considering they were supposed to be opposites. Despite this, there were times when it felt like the two changed positions with Skizz’s tendency to follow Grian and Impulse’s unwavering kindness in most moments. However, those were just common behaviors his Hermits seemed to have. 

“What are you doing here, Skizz?” The man asked calmly. He didn’t want to seem as bothered since, no matter how much his hermits got on his nerves, he always appreciated their presence regardless of the time. He watched as Skizz stepped forward, not hesitating to get close to the edge as he spoke. 

“Well, a little birdy told me you’ve been working some code for a while!” The man said eagerly. Suma got to his feet, heading over to the kitchen counter to scoop the angel up. He chuckled a bit before lifting him as he continued. “And by a little birdy, I mean a big bird.” He added with a laugh. 

“Grian isn’t gonna be too happy if he hears you call him that.” The admin admitted with a fondness in his voice, happy his players can be so confident in their jokes. He was happy to just talk with Skizz for a while, but a yawn was quick to interrupt their current discussion. 

He recognized the sparkle in his eyes, sighing since he knew that this was gonna have the same outcome most people did when the angel saw an opportunity to be hidden in their stomachs. Suma let Skizz bounce, the tiny man happily speaking up. “Uppies!” He said eagerly. The admin sighed, knowing a smile was under his mask as he didn’t hesitate to unlatch the lower jaw again. He pulled it down, allowing oxygen to burn his lungs again. He could technically breathe the other’s air, it just caused a lot of strain on his system. He lifted his hands to his face, lips parting as he opened his mouth. The muscles inside looked inhuman, matching the void with how his tongue looked a nice deep blue before fading into a black with stars.

Xisuma’s weird insides were the main reason he liked to avoid swallowing his hermits if he could help it, but he also recognized that they didn’t even seem bothered by it. As he slipped him onto his tongue, he melted into the warm weight that settled rather quickly. He could fit him in his mouth without anything sticking out but it was overfull. He could feel the small squirms that the man gave, a hand eagerly patting his tongue as he carefully began to lick. The soft movements made his stomach growl, desperate to fill the neglected organ with a squirmy snack.

He closed his eyes as Skizz’s flavor spread over his taste buds, the angel seeming to taste like lemonade and he honestly enjoyed it. He took a few moments, drooling a bit as he took another burning breath before he swallowed. Xisuma felt as the tiny slid off his tongue and into his esophagus, a second gulp being enough to send him down completely. The void walker sighed as he traced Skizz’s path, following him down to his chest before he locked his mask back in place. His weight settling in his abdomen was nice, plus the fact it was one of his hermits tucked away and safely made it better.

He let the angel get comfortable, settling himself on the couch nearby as the squirming in his belly slowed.

A small break wouldn’t hurt anything.

[yusakiiiii]

Hermit Life

Chapter 9: Three Men in a Cloud

I just released the ninth chapter of my fanfic series Hermit Life. Where strange goings on on the Hermitcraft server lead to them having to evacuate to a new server, but they accidentally end up in a new Life Series!

Check it out if you’re interested!

[cannibal-walleye]

Chapter 12 of This Side of the Screen is finally here!! In which they go for a walk together :]

Gonna be honest, this has been one of my favorites to write thus far. they're so stupid <3 But that's all I'll say! no spoilers! Go read it if you want to know what happens (hint: it's much cuter than what the image suggests ;)

here's the link again, in case you didn't already click it smh

also can we pretend it took a month to get this out because I was figuring out backgrounds, please pretty please?

[buggymikey]

if you like skizzpulse read @cannibal-walleye college au fic ITS SO CUTE

got me giggling while reading bro 😞😞 AUGH NO TOOOOOO CUTE I EAT IT UP

dw more doodles coming soon from it :P

[macnsamuel]

hello! ive just published the first chapter of a fanfic that is VERY loosely based off of percy jackson! where grian gets taken to a camp full of people that have stranger features (for example, joels antennae or jimmys wings) and he learns abt the watchers and finds out hes whats known as a wielder (parrot wings) and impulse and skizz are head of the camp and theyre an angel and demon. its called always watching (there will also be ships/romance :3)

you can read it on ao3, my user is macnsamuel

i hope you guys enjoy it!! ill be drawing ref sheets for characters soon :3

[deityoftherain]

sleepy snuggle struggle - skizzpulse oneshot

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63751594

Rating: Gen

Relationship: M/M

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 1,503

Summary: Skizz is a hot sleeper, and every once in a while, Skizz wakes up sweating in the middle of the night because the server is experiencing the summer heat and Impulse is glued to them like he's trying to hibernate in the dead of winter. Curse his code for making him run so hot because his husband is just so stinking cute, he could never deny him his well-deserved sleepy snuggles.

Little happy fluffy skizzpulse gift for @v1neyy <33

Full oneshot is included under the cut for your convince, so please kudos/like, comment, and/or reblog so I get some of that sweet sweet external validation >:D

One thing no one told Skizz about having a netherborn husband before they got together or even became best friends was the juxtaposition of a netherborn’s sleeping tendencies.

The two laid together in their shared bed, Impulse’s arms wrapped around Skizz’s torso with his face buried against Skizz’s left pec. Their legs were intertwined, so much so that Skizz barely knew which were his own and which were Impulse’s. Granted, he was still half-unconscious for he had just blinked awake, but still! The limbs must have lost some circulation while they slept, and any attempts to move them risked waking Impulse, and obviously he couldn’t have that.

Besides, waking sleeping limbs tended to lead to blood rushing to heat the affected skin while pins and needles attacked his muscles in the most annoyingly agonizing way it could think of. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, to put it lightly, and Skizz would rather walk barefoot in snow. At least his feet go numb when exposed to the frigid Overworld powder.

Impulse had a few layers of fuzzy blankets draped overtop of him to help insulate the heat his body did produce, but he had also insisted on Skizz’s wing wrapping around him too. He had confessed to liking it when he was completely surrounded by Skizz, and, well… who was Skizz to deny his amazing husband of that? 

Plus, Skizz rather enjoyed being able to hold Impulse close with the white feathers if not his arms themselves, even if it meant someone laying down on the occasionally-sensitive feathers. It wasn’t too bad as long as he kept up with preening, and Impulse never let him go more than a week before confronting Skizz’s avoidance and procrastination.

See, Dipple-Dop’s preferred sleeping environment wouldn’t be too bad if he were a typical Player, but Skizz had always run on the warmer side when it came to his internal temperature. This meant that he didn’t get as cold as his mortal counterparts and his code wasn’t as developed in terms of natural regulation for it hadn’t needed to when he was up in the Heavens. 

While his friends of Overworld origin bundled up in the dead of winter, Skizz would walk around comfortably in shorts and a sleeveless top. When he first fell from the Heavens and gained Player status, it had taken him a bit to get used to the fact that most other beings required external warmth to avoid freezing to death.

Back then, back when Skizz met Impulse, he had assumed that, being from the warmest dimension known to Players, Impulse would be similar to him. Impulse could take a dip into lava with no issue, and, on first glance, anyone would guess that he simply radiated heat. Was it that big of a leap in logic to think he would also run warm? Especially when Tango Top– a blazeborn also from the Nether– was practically a living furnace, especially with the flame on his head?

Apparently so because Skizz had assumed wrong. Crazy, right?

Impulse’s internal temperature was quite cold, his code adapted to accept the constant boiling temperatures of the Nether without consequence to his body. Since he became a Player in his own right, entering the Overworld full-time to join the rest of their friends, the function that had once been an asset became maladapted. Skizz supposed it made more sense why Impulse often opted for more layers than Skizz ever did when they changed their skins to suit whatever server they were messing around with at the time.

The soft hum of a redstone fan’s blades whirling filled the room, accompanied by Impulse’s gentle snores. Most Players couldn’t even hear it, but Skizz’s ears have always worked better than his peers’. Skizz wouldn’t dare complain, though. He quite liked the background noise paired with the little sleepy sounds Impulse made unknowingly.

The fan was directed so its breeze brushed against the bare skin of his face and neck to avoid his fallen angel body from overheating as badly as it once had. That was a rough period of fevers and previously unexplained exhaustion that Skizz would rather forget. Impulse made the redstone device for Skizz far before they were married, as the two had always been a cuddly duo even when they were simply platonic. Gemstone– one of their friends– had always teased them about it, only growing more smug when she was proven right.

Skizz hadn’t meant to confess his discomfort, but Impulse overheard Skizz offhandedly mention the issue to a fellow Player one day, claiming that he hadn’t been sleeping well when they cuddled due to the extra heat Impulse required. Impulse didn’t grow upset or complain about Skizz’s comments to another Player instead of him, and, instead, he went to fix the issue! That moment was one of many that aided in Skizz’s realization that he was lucky to have such a great homie buddy. Skizz more than appreciated the effort and care Impulse infused into the device a lot, understanding that the action was much more than simply the tangible fan itself.

The unfortunate thing was that, even with the fan, he still tended to overheat some nights, especially when the general outside temperature was warmer than usual. The heat would then cause Skizz to wake up with his clothes just a little sticker with sweat than before. Still, he didn’t complain, simply using the half-conscious time in the middle of the night to smile gratefully down at his husband’s sleeping face. Skizz didn’t know where he would be without him. Impulse was the first to help him when he first fell.

Dipple-Dop looked so peaceful as he slept, even with his face squished against Skizz’s chest and a little drool trickling out the corner of his lips. His brown hair was a mess and the curled posture in which he slept was honestly atrocious, but Skizz couldn’t help but find any “fault” of his absolutely endearing.

Skizz gingerly brushed a few stray pieces of hair out of Impulse’s face, not wanting anything to obscure his view until his lover shifted in his sleep again. He bit down on his tongue in an attempt to be quiet, knowing that cooing over his husband may wake him, which isn’t what Skizz wanted. Instead, Skizz redirected the surge of adoration that demanded action within him by leaning toward Impulse to press a chaste kiss against the top of his forehead, a spot just below his hairline and right between his horns.

Impulse squirmed a little when Skizz’s cheek accidentally brushed a horn. He froze, watching Impulse’s face carefully to see if he would open his eyes. Fortunately, he didn’t. Instead, his nose scrunched as if mildly peeved for a moment as he twisted to bury his face against Skizz’s chest again. Impulse muffled a snore against Skizz’s torso, and he couldn’t resist giggling at how cute he was. Void, how Skizz loved him.

A large yawn forced itself out of Skizz’s mouth, leading Skizz to squeeze his eyelids together as he pushed his shoulders backward to stretch his upper back. He smacked his lips together a few times before using his free hand to rub crusties or whatever that gunk was from his eyes. 

During these quiet moments, these little bubbles stuck in time, Skizz would occasionally forget that it was indeed the middle of the night and that he needed rest as much as Impulse did. He couldn’t just stay awake until the sun started to rise peering down at his lover!

Skizz tried not to move too quickly as he reoriented himself, not wanting to risk waking Impulse with him. He even held his breath for maximum efficiency, the thought making him feel better even if it didn’t actually work that way. Skizz allowed his eyelashes to flutter shut for the last time that early morning as he tugged his heat absorbent of a husband closer to his chest. He idly scratched his fingers in Impulse’s hair as he silently commanded his limbs to relax.

Was he a little hotter than he would like to be, hotter than he would be if he were sleeping by himself?

Sure, yeah, of course. 

Would he rather be alone then? 

No way, dude! 

Skizz would much rather sleep beside Impulse any day, even if it meant no actual sleep for him– even if it gave him a fever! Not that that had happened in a very long time–

Cough, anyway– 

Skizz would much rather sleep beside his husband every day than sleep by himself, no matter what the outcome may be.

Impulse’s unconscious form was just as stinking cute as awake Impulse was, and Skizz was never one to pass up an excuse to gaze lovingly at husband nor trace his features with his eyes, if not, his finger. They’d been together for forever, and Skizz was more than content to spend an eternity more by his side, however long that would be for them.

If you got all the way to the end, please consider reblogging this post, kudosing/liking the fic, and commenting on the ao3 fic itself, thank you <333

[moss8e]

I felt as if there wasn't enough Skizzscottpulse, so enjoy this very rareship

Secrets that go on upon the stars. - ashitwriter - 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series [Archive of Our Own]

“Shhh, you're gonna wake up Gem” Scott whispered as he slowly moved up the pink staircases up to where his, Impulse’s and Gem’s base laid out.

“We’re not making any noise” Impulse snorted softly, tail flicking back and forth.

“Uh huh” Scott stared at Impulse and Skizz blankly, his fins flicking up and down at every little giggle Skizz was letting out, and in turn Impulse a few snickers.