This is a one shots book where you guys can comment ideas you would like to see and I'll create a one shot out of them. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ~Disclaimer~ I do not own any of these characters. They are all based on real Minecraft YouTubers. If any of the YouTubers in this story are uncomfortable with what I have written, and they leave a comment letting me know, I will change/remove it immediately.

Scott was a cold-hearted elf who cared about no one but himself, not even the Codfather, in fact, he hated Jimmy for his attempts at trying to become friends. Scott had made it very clear that he wanted to stay alone, he was happy that way, but Jimmy wasn't going to give up so quickly, he was determined to find some humanity still left in Scott. Follow Scott and Jimmy's journey through hatred, friendships, and maybe even more than that. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ~Disclaimer~ I do not own any of these characters. They are all based on characters created by minecraft youtubers. If any of the YouTubers in this story are uncomfortable with what I have written, and they leave a comment letting me know, I will change/remove it immediately.

Winters had always been cruelly cold-biting, relentless, the kind that seeped through fur and bone alike. Even for an arctic fox, even for Etho, there were nights when the snow howled louder than instinct could answer. The white stretched on forever, blinding and empty, and the cold pressed in until movement itself became a careful calculation. Etho moved low to the ground when the wind picked up, shoulders rolling smoothly beneath his thick coat, paws placed with deliberate silence. His ears flicked constantly, swiveling for danger, for prey, for anything that meant warmth or shelter. When he paused, he curled his tail tight around his body, the plume of it tucked neatly over his nose to trap what little heat he could keep. Some winters were harsher than others. On those nights, instinct drove him closer to the edges of human territory. He lingered in the shadows, cautious but desperate, pale fur nearly vanishing against the snowbanks. The scent of smoke, wool, and cooked food tugged at something older than fear. He never approached boldly-only careful steps, a lowered head, eyes sharp and watchful, ready to bolt at the slightest threat. Finding a human willing to share warmth wasn't comfort. It was survival. Etho would settle near the fire but never too close, limbs tucked beneath him, muscles coiled even as exhaustion weighed heavy. Sleep came in short stretches, ears twitching, body primed to flee. Yet the heat soaked in anyway, thawing stiff joints and numbed paws, keeping him alive long enough to face the next dawn. Winter always passed eventually. But it never stopped demanding its price.

Ok so im gonna sink hours into writing shit about flower husbands instead of school work 😍😍

So, I made some scarian one-shots. I'm not the best writer ever, but I try my best to make some good stories to read. I'm also not the best at trigger warnings so I'm going to list a few touchy subjects here, and if you aren't comfortable with them then you dont have to read this. !TWs! S/h Suicide and death Blood Fire Scarian I think thats all, if I need to add anything else I will. I hope you enjoy this book! I only ship the minecraft personas, not the real people. Also the art isn't mine, all credits go to the owner.

So... Vampires smp? Firelocke Pyro x Abolish (Loving thier dynamic rn)

Throughout Jimmy's entire life, he had never once sung a true canary's song. Not because he didn't have the voice for it-he did-but because he never felt the need. Or maybe, more truthfully, he'd never been given the chance. Every time he tried, someone would tell him to shut up. If he chirped even a little too loud, a heavy blanket would be thrown over his cage, plunging him into darkness, tricking him into thinking it was night. He'd sit there, silent and still, alone in that manufactured night, wondering what he did wrong. He never stayed in one place for long. From one owner to the next, passed around like an afterthought. A decoration. A novelty. Never a companion. Eventually, the canary stopped trying. He stopped chirping. He stopped dreaming of melodies. His voice, once instinctual, dulled into a forgotten thing. He was yelled at so often that, after a while, he started to believe his name was Shut Up. Shut up, they'd say. You're too loud. You're too noisy. And so, he wasn't. He was quiet. Invisible. A canary who never sang.

Double Life. Oh, Double Life. How Scott could rant about the good and bad things about it for hours at end. For sure, Double Life left a dent in Scott and Pearl's friendship, but they were still the best of friends in the end (after much apologies). But Double Life ruined his relationship. Scott was most obviously angry at Tango, and Jimmy (a lot). But Scott can't show that. He can't show that he still cared about Jimmy, he can't show that it destroyed him that he chose Tango, he can't show that he still cared. But Scott is Scott, isn't he? OR; 5 times Scott hid his feelings, 1 time he let it slip.

for my 60th book I figured I'd make a spin off of one of my most popular learning to see except you know from a different perspective

Martyn was born blind and has always relied heavily on his hearing to navigate and understand the world around him. He walks with a cane, and his eyes are always closed-he doesn't even know what color they are, nor has he ever thought to ask. For him, the world has always been cloaked in darkness. That began to change when he discovered a small spark of magic within himself. With time and practice, he learned to use it to "paint" mental images of people and places in his mind. Through subtle differences in tone, mood, and cadence, he could distinguish colors-hearing the warmth of a sunset in a laugh, or the chill of blue in a hushed whisper. Over the years, he also honed his ability to read body language-not through sight, but through sound. The shifting of feet, the rhythm of someone's breath, the way fabric brushed against itself as someone turned-all of it became a symphony of cues that told him what others could see with their eyes. Martyn often kept to himself, sitting quietly in the corner of a room with a Braille book in his hands, lost in the raised dots beneath his fingers. Most people didn't approach him. Whether it was discomfort or uncertainty, he had grown used to being left alone. But that all changed the day a new transfer student joined the theater program. Curious and unafraid, they noticed Martyn sitting by himself and, rather than shy away, felt drawn to him. For the first time in a long while, Martyn's quiet world began to shift-not just with sound and magic, but with the unexpected rhythm of connection.