Last Life If Everyone Had Only One Life (and Failing A Boogey Meant Instant Loss)*

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Itchy veins.

cleo :D

(Wels-Pyjarmor guy returns to share more weird headcanons. Hi.) One of Keralis' many, many strange hobbies is playing bad matchmaker for his fellow hermits based entirely off speculating what their theoretical kids would look like. Highlights (lowlights?) include suggesting that xB and Beef should get together "to see whose beard shape wins", or that False and Tango should get together "to invent a new and blonder shade of blonde".

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🎂🎂🎂

Whose birthday is it?

Started my period fourteen days late. I hate this sm.

Double Life if everyone only had two lives*.

(*two lives instead of one because when I tried with the soulbound everyone died too early for anything interesting to happen)

Tango still dies in the cave, he and Jimmy are at one life almost immediately... Ranchers still happen making Flower Ranchers complete. (Reference to my version of Last Life)

Etho and Joel also die soon to the enderman, they are also left with one life.

Scott is a strategist first, abandoning Pearl is strategically viable with three lives but with only two It's a bigger risk, a risk he doesn't take... He lets Pearl base with him and Cleo.

Cleo is much more likely to put her own enjoying her time over strategy so she stills ditches Martyn at first... Martyn considers Pearl going with Cleo and Scott to be a betrayal.

Ren and BigB are still visited by Pearl...though the situation is different they still likely die because of the enderman and still kick out Pearl for bringing death to them.

Martyn still maths wrong and pushes Cleo to her death, Cleo being Pearls teammate in this timeline makes the wedge between Pearl and Martyn deeper.

BigB still jumps in front of a creeper causing him and Ren to be the first and second players to be out of the game permanently.

Etho and Joel truly believed they wouldn't die during the fishing rod accident so they still go trough it in this timeline and still die. They are out of the game, Joel is third out while Etho is fourth out.

Etho and Joel are out and never kill Pearl for stealing their stuff, she keeps her two lifes.

Impulse is still mobbed by mobs and dies bringing himself and Bdubs to one life left.

Tango still releases a Warden, because of course he does... Pearl is much less happy about it in this timeline.

Now everyone but 4 has one life left and this where things get interesting, Grian and Scar in this timeline are both much less threatening with Scar having been out first in Third Life and Grian in Last Life... On the other hand Scott and Pearl are both winners in this timeline so they become the main target instead meaning Scar and Grian never get stuck in a tower with the ranchers meaning the ranchers don't die yet... Also Grian and Scar never have to sneak around underground meaning Scar doesn't fall into the sea of zombies so they also don't die yet.

Moreover Scott and Pearl are likely better at evading the others which added to Joel and Etho not being in the game means they probably manage to survive the session too.

Ren and BigB are dead meaning they can't kill Bdubs and Impulse, they stay at one life.

Jimmy still gets killed by the enderman, the ranchers are out of the game. Jimmy is the fifth player out and Tango is the sixth.

Etho and Joel aren't there to put the tnt trap that in our Double Life Scar died to...so Scar and Grian avoid yet another death.

Etho and Joel are also not there to kill Scott so Scott and Pearl also avoid another death.

Scar still kills Martyn and Cleo in the deep dark putting them out of the game seventh and eighth

Grian still dies to the warden, putting Scar and himself to their last lives.

At the end 3 soulbound couples remain: Bdubs and Impulse, Grian and Scar and Pearl and Scott.

Bdubs and Impulse are kilked first becoming the ninth and tenth players to loose their last lives.

Scott and Pearl are both winners who have showed little to no interest in winning again, so here when they both have already won in the end they let Scar and Grian be the finalists.

In the end only Scar and Grian remain, no secret soulmates, no betrayals in the last stretch... despite wether Scar trows the fight or not Grian is more likely to come out on top.

The Sun is crowned the winner of Double Life.

(Third Life)

(Last Life.)

(Limited Life)

After all the destruction and war, after losing everything… my mother is now battling a severe and malignant thyroid disease. She urgently needs surgery, but there is no medicine or hospital to save her here. Your donation could be her lifeline. Please, help us and share our plea. Help us donate

Thank you for this wonderful addition to our silly little thread. Similar things will probably happen in future.

Itchy veins.

Here’s a story about changelings: 

Mary was a beautiful baby, sweet and affectionate, but by the time she’s three she’s turned difficult and strange, with fey moods and a stubborn mouth that screams and bites but never says mama. But her mother’s well-used to hard work with little thanks, and when the village gossips wag their tongues she just shrugs, and pulls her difficult child away from their precious, perfect blossoms, before the bites draw blood. Mary’s mother doesn’t drown her in a bucket of saltwater, and she doesn’t take up the silver knife the wife of the village priest leaves out for her one Sunday brunch. 

She gives her daughter yarn, instead, and instead of a rowan stake through her inhuman heart she gives her a child’s first loom, oak and ash. She lets her vicious, uncooperative fairy daughter entertain herself with games of her own devising, in as much peace and comfort as either of them can manage.

Mary grows up strangely, as a strange child would, learning everything in all the wrong order, and biting a great deal more than she should. But she also learns to weave, and takes to it with a grand passion. Soon enough she knows more than her mother–which isn’t all that much–and is striking out into unknown territory, turning out odd new knots and weaves, patterns as complex as spiderwebs and spellrings. 

“Aren’t you clever,” her mother says, of her work, and leaves her to her wool and flax and whatnot. Mary’s not biting anymore, and she smiles more than she frowns, and that’s about as much, her mother figures, as anyone should hope for from their child. 

Mary still cries sometimes, when the other girls reject her for her strange graces, her odd slow way of talking, her restless reaching fluttering hands that have learned to spin but never to settle. The other girls call her freak, witchblood, hobgoblin.

“I don’t remember girls being quite so stupid when I was that age,” her mother says, brushing Mary’s hair smooth and steady like they’ve both learned to enjoy, smooth as a skein of silk. “Time was, you knew not to insult anyone you might need to flatter later. ‘Specially when you don’t know if they’re going to grow wings or horns or whatnot. Serve ‘em all right if you ever figure out curses.”

“I want to go back,” Mary says. “I want to go home, to where I came from, where there’s people like me. If I’m a fairy’s child I should be in fairyland, and no one would call me a freak.”

“Aye, well, I’d miss you though,” her mother says. “And I expect there’s stupid folk everywhere, even in fairyland. Cruel folk, too. You just have to make the best of things where you are, being my child instead.”

Mary learns to read well enough, in between the weaving, especially when her mother tracks down the traveling booktraders and comes home with slim, precious manuals on dyes and stains and mordants, on pigments and patterns, diagrams too arcane for her own eyes but which make her daughter’s eyes shine.

“We need an herb garden,” her daughter says, hands busy, flipping from page to page, pulling on her hair, twisting in her skirt, itching for a project. “Yarrow, and madder, and woad and weld…”

“Well, start digging,” her mother says. “Won’t do you a harm to get out of the house now’n then.”

Mary doesn’t like dirt but she’s learned determination well enough from her mother. She digs and digs, and plants what she’s given, and the first year doesn’t turn out so well but the second’s better, and by the third a cauldron’s always simmering something over the fire, and Mary’s taking in orders from girls five years older or more, turning out vivid bolts and spools and skeins of red and gold and blue, restless fingers dancing like they’ve summoned down the rainbow. Her mother figures she probably has.

“Just as well you never got the hang of curses,” she says, admiring her bright new skirts. “I like this sort of trick a lot better.”

Mary smiles, rocking back and forth on her heels, fingers already fluttering to find the next project.

She finally grows up tall and fair, if a bit stooped and squinty, and time and age seem to calm her unhappy mouth about as well as it does for human children. Word gets around she never lies or breaks a bargain, and if the first seems odd for a fairy’s child then the second one seems fit enough. The undyed stacks of taken orders grow taller, the dyed lots of filled orders grow brighter, the loom in the corner for Mary’s own creations grows stranger and more complex. Mary’s hands callus just like her mother’s, become as strong and tough and smooth as the oak and ash of her needles and frames, though they never fall still.

“Do you ever wonder what your real daughter would be like?” the priest’s wife asks, once.

Mary’s mother snorts. “She wouldn’t be worth a damn at weaving,” she says. “Lord knows I never was. No, I’ll keep what I’ve been given and thank the givers kindly. It was a fair enough trade for me. Good day, ma’am.”

Mary brings her mother sweet chamomile tea, that night, and a warm shawl in all the colors of a garden, and a hairbrush. In the morning, the priest’s son comes round, with payment for his mother’s pretty new dress and a shy smile just for Mary. He thinks her hair is nice, and her hands are even nicer, vibrant in their strength and skill and endless motion.  

They all live happily ever after.

*

Here’s another story: 

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