Another Plurality Wildcard For Your Collection: People Get Randomly Assigned Into Duos (outside Of Their

Finished a Webtoon yesterday, and it was so good that I’m having book withdrawals. Genuinely, the entire day after I finished it I was practically shaking.

*shakes you around* wawawawawawawawawawawa

Have a holly, jolly Christmas!

Or Hanukkah

Or…. Yeah idk just have a good

✨❤️✨

Thank you! I appreciate you putting in the effort to add messages for those of us who don’t celebrate Christmas, and I wish you a happy holiday season no matter what you celebrate or if you celebrate anything at all!

It's the finale of the next life series. There are only a handful of people left. The Winners Soulmate theory must be true, right? Etho takes a deep breath and catalogues his opponents. He sharpens his sword and reads the death messages in the chat. Something rustles behind him. Etho turns around. It's LDShadowLady with a gun. She shoots him off the edge of the cliff and his body falls dramatically and gracefully over the edge, hitting the last two people left and killing them on impact. Lizzie cheers. Shen then immediately falls off the same cliff by complete accident. She wakes up in the Winners realm, inside a car, and blinks. "Lizzie," Joel tears up next too her in the drivers seat. "Do you want to run the other Winners over in a car for all eternity with me?" Lizzie tears up and says yes. They drive off into the sunset and immediately hit Scott Smajor

I need another life series after Wild Life where Scott and Etho team up from the beginning and I need it viscerally

SAME I need to study the way Etho behaves around Scott. He rarely talks to Scott on camera, and yet he’s so comfortable around him. He’s always looking to make Scott laugh. Scott is always looking to make sure Etho is as comfortable as possible. Etho calling Scott “handsome” when Scott was disguised as Etho even though this was not the first time we’ve seen Scott in Etho’s clothes.

I want them in a lab. I want to put them through scenarios. I want a whole season of them being allies. I want to see them make each other laugh. They rarely talk, and yet Etho can make Scott laugh so hard he can’t breathe without even trying that hard. I want Etho to team up with Scott and realize that he doesn’t have to sneak out and make secret alliances with other teams because Scott ALSO wants to make alliances with other teams. I want Scott to be on a team with only people who don’t pick fights with other teams, and by “team with only people” I mean “team that is just Etho”. I need them isolated. There cannot be unaccounted factors within the immediate faction.

I want Etho to say “You know first hand that I’m not a great teammate” and for Scott to say “I don’t need a great teammate. I need a good friend. I need someone who hears me. I need someone who looks out for me.” I want Etho to feel so much thoughtfulness and earnestly from Scott. I need them either to make it to the final two and for Scott to sacrifice himself in some dramatic way or for them to go out together, each one rushing to protect the other.

I have so many delusional ideas for them. I want them to have languid mornings together, and I want Scott to paint Etho’s nails. I want Scott to teach Etho how to dance, and I want Etho to show Scott quiet affection. I need them to be soft and safe and secure.

After the Wild Life finale? I need a fic where Etho shows up to Scott’s door, sweating and panting, with a bouquet of blue hydrangeas - meaning “deep remorse/apology”. I need him to explain that it was an accident, and he would’ve never let that arrow fly had he known.

Idk I just noticed this immediately. Also, THE TRAUMA BIT, NOT THE ONION BIT

This is a Lizzie LDShadowlady Appreciation Post

you have TEN (10) minutes to Appreciate Lizzie LDShadowlady or THE BEES

the notes are broken 😂

There is a weight to Skizz that Grian simply doesn't have.

The first time they fly together- he and Skizz, showing the new guy the skies above their ever-changing homeland- Grian can feel it. It's not just in the wings- he'd known well enough to expect the three sets, getting consecutively smaller down Skizz's back. From one angle they're just as white as any other angel Grian has met in the multiverse.

Yet they don't stay that way.

As light and shadow play across Skizz's wings they flash in colors Grian isn't sure even Scar could name, there and gone in less than a breath. It's a display, then it's camouflage, then it's just white feathers.

Then there's the sensation.

It's like- the air itself becomes solid around Skizz, a piece of armor. He doesn't let the wind carry him, rather he drags the wind, creating an updraft that Grian is more than happy to bounce around on with outraged laughter as the angel cackles below him, doing loops to send his smaller companion higher.

When their flight concludes Grian lands gently, with hardly a breath.

Skizz lands like he is the last locking piece the earth was forgetting, and when his feet touch the rock there's the barest little tremor as if something immense has come to rest.

-

Grian knows, of course, they all KNOW. Tango had been in those ancient wars, as well, and Etho and Doc- well.

Yet with Skizz it's- hard to remember, in a way it isn't hard to remember with Doc or Tango or even Impulse, cheerful as he is. Occasionally, there's a slip. A Moment. A flash in his eyes that's a bit too red, a word that comes out a touch too rough, a swing of a sword that bites through a post instead of just into it.

Skizz- he doesn't have those reminders. It sometimes surprises whoever might be around when the wings appear, normally just the two great primaries, far larger in span than Grian's and more flexible besides (since he's not, as Grian had taken pains to point out, ACTUALLY an avian, so it's not like his wings need to function scientifically; they're more there because angels fly and angels fly because they have wings, done and dusted.)

There's always a moment. Oh, that's right. Skizz has wings. Skizz is an angel. Skizz once powered the God Beacons in the early server wars, a living battery that kept the Holy on their crusade until the first great Crashes brought about the Dark.

Skizz is older than their server, than redstone, than time.

Skizz knows Impulse's full, true name, and Impulse has seen Skizz with all of his Eyes open.

Oh, that's right.

Skizz is something more.

-

Skizz doesn't make it hard to remember on purpose, any more than Impulse or Tango or Doc make it easy to remember on purpose. He just is what he is- goofy, excitable, ready to lend a hand or a suggestion or just be there as a silent warmth on which you can lean and cry.

That's why it's so jarring when the zombie horde happens.

It's a combination of things- the day has just wound down to night, Scar and Grian are near a village, everyone else has gone to bed and Scar just needs one more poppy for the red dye for his new tents. Easy.

Until there's fifteen zombies pouring out of the spaces between the houses, groaning and reaching, mouths open and eyes- where applicable- vacant.

It's a run and gun scenario if Grian ever saw one and that's what he's doing, half-hauling Scar along, his larger companion firing with that frighteningly accurate bow even as he's yelping in alarm.

Still there's too many, and their respawns are so far, and damn it one stupid poppy-

There's a sound that's an absence of sound.

Grian will realize later that it was a concentrated sonic boom, the sound barrier shattering and then coming together again in a single moment as a whitehot streak comes down from the sky.

This time Skizz does not land like a locking piece of earth.

This time Skizz lands like the end of all things, like the cold iron of space that fills the void between stars, like an angel who was once so feared that his name became a prayer and a curse and a plea until he couldn't bear the sound of it and begged his only friend to give him another.

The zombie he landed on is less than ash.

The three who had been closest are bisected laterally, their top halves burning into nothing and their bottom halves becoming moist slag on the ground.

Scar has already covered his eyes but Grian can see the halo, a writhing spike of golden fire that screams as it circles Skizz's head, its points blurred to a single singing line daring anything to come within reach.

Oh, Grian thinks to himself, not all of the scars are scars.

Some of them are Eyes.

Then he closes his own eyes, behind which he sees nothing but spots as he hears the sound of zombies dying a second time, though presumably it is their first death by holy fire.

-

"So that was. Overkill."

"You think?" Scar wheezes. Skizz laughs awkwardly as he helps the other man up, offering a regen potion. "Sorry, buddy. I was coming back from the mangrove farm and I looked down and- well. Some habits die hard."

Grian could say something. Could gently goad Skizz into talking more, do that thing he is so very good at doing.

Only Grian, despite what some might say, does know when to let the sleeping dog lie. So he only says, "How did you not break your face?" and laugh at the appropriate time when Skizz says with that lopsided grin, his eyes still shining a little too brightly, "Practice, G. Practice!"

-

No one on the Hermitcraft server is a clueless innocent. There are skeletons in every closet and that's part and parcel of belonging- there is no perfection here.

Like Cleo's state of perpetual paused decay, like Gem's refusal to be far from water long, like Doc's long hours and Etho's red stained fingers, Mumbo's sudden quick jerks towards a voice only he can hear and Cub's careful symmetry, they are all of them followed by stories and ghosts.

If Skizz's ghosts howl like lost souls, well.

Grian figures his friend has come to the right place, like Impulse all those years ago.

There's plenty of sky for them and their demons- the kind that don't wait for them patiently to roost.

I am literally crying over ren also following etho's order when he got the zombie summoning powers cause half of him is martyn so what he has to do he does as well