#last life boogieman

[silverskye13]

Etho looks down quietly at his basket, making sure everything he needs is inside. He knows it is best to only make one trip down to the water. The water is treacherous. He is strong enough to withstand it, but of course, everyone who ever drowned thinks they're strong enough until their lungs are bursting. So. He double checks. He makes sure.

He has a week's worth of laundry. Some dishes he needs sand from the river to scour. A bucket, so he won't have to make this trip for another few days. There are a few pieces of leather armor in need of a quick rinse before they're polished. Also, he's thirsty. He tries not to drink his rain water. He needs it to last.

Finally, Etho belts on his sword, hefts the basket over one shoulder, and the empty bucket with his free hand. He looks to the short path that leads down to the dock. The water is blue as the diamond sky above, edged in gold from the slowly gathering sunset. Birds are singing. Breeze whispers through the willow branches and cattails. Across the river, a small herd of deer is moving through the rushes. One breaks apart from the others to drink. Etho sighs out a long breath, steels himself, and walks down the trail.

The water is cursed. Very few people still come to the river for chores. Most only dare to run down for a few buckets of water when the well is running dry.

_____

When Tango saw him gathering his things earlier, he'd shaken his head and made a warding gesture with his hand. Protection. For himself. For Etho. Or just to ward away the idea of evil.

"Scream, I guess," Tango had told him. "I doubt we'll make it in time, but yanno, we'll know what happened."

Etho had only offered a tense smile behind his mask. Everyone would know what happened, scream or not.

"I'll be fine," Etho said. "I've been fine before."

He said it a lot more confidently than he felt, and Tango wasn't reassured. Tango had a good nose for things like that. He sniffed the air, and made the chagrined expression of someone who could smell a coming thunderstorm.

"Yeah. Sure." Tango sniffed again, and then tapped the side of his nose with a knowing finger. "On second thought, maybe save your breath."

_____

Etho walks out onto the dock, his footsteps silent as he can make them. He took his boots off by the dock's edge. They're heavy when they're wet. He sets the basket down gently on the aged wood. He fills the bucket first. In the neat and tidy plan of his habits, he thinks the bucket is the one he least wants to be left last with. It's heavy and cumbersome, and requires leaning over the water's edge. So he fills it, trying to disturb the water as little as possible, and pads back to his boots to set it down gently beside them. Then he's back to his basket, and getting to the louder work, what he know will attract attention.

He grabs a shirt and dunks it into the water, wringing it out a few times before scrubbing it against the dock's edge. Someone nailed a washboard here, probably to make it easier for everyone else who needed to scrub up -- one less cumbersome thing to drag to the riverside. Beside it, Etho can see long scratches in the wood, vanishing off the side. He has large hands, so they don't line up to him, but the unmistakable look of nails scratching, clinging, is recognizable even still. He wonders idly who made them. Probably someone playing, before the water was cursed. Or an animal that swam across the bank and needed help scurrying out.

He is tempted to think it's something more sinister, but he knows better.

The water turns from diamond blue to sunflower yellow, then to blazing orange with rusted and bleeding edges. The herd of deer on the other side of the water wanders off, sated. A fox calls in the wood somewhere, an uncanny, very human scream. The bird calls twitter into silence, replaced by chirping frogsong. Etho wrings out the last of his clothes and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. He checks how far the sun has dipped in the sky, and decides he has an our yet before dark settles in.

With his clothes washed, he sets them back in the basket, neatly folded. They'll wrinkle probably, but when he puts them out on the line, the wind will straighten them out. His knees are sore from kneeling, his back from leaning. His armor will be easier to clean if he can settle in, brace it on his crossed legs.

Etho looks around the water, at the deceptive stillness. It's a slow, lazy river, hardly pushing the water fast enough to put ripples on it. There is one place near the opposite bank where a long shadow stretches from a stone, broken by the reflection of red sunset. It's the kind of image he would expect to see on a lake on a windless day. He's heard before that quiet rivers make for deadly waters, that there is a current in holes in the riverbed that will devour someone.

But Etho isn't in the water. He's on the dock, and the dock is safe. Nothing will drag him off it. Nothing in the water is strong enough. It doesn't have to be. There is some comfort in that, in knowing he can't be devoured against his will. It is why he still comes to the river. It is why he dares. Etho sits back and crosses his legs, bracing his leathers against his knees. He scoops a palm full of water onto them and scrubs, trying to get blood out of the small cracks where it will settle and rot. His chainmail is back at the fort up the hill, where its heaviness can't encumber him. It cleans itself reasonably well, all the links clattering together, just so long as he doesn't roll in any mud.

There is shuffling on the dock behind him, the creaking of old wood. Etho tilts his head, breathes in deeply through his nose. His pulse doesn't quicken. After a momentary pause, he resumes his work.

"Hey BDubs," he says conversationally. "Trying to sneak up on me?"

"Wh-- no. Of course not." There is mischief in BDub's answer, a grin in his voice. "The great Etho? Never. You probably heard me coming from a mile away."

"Maybe not a mile," Etho chuckles humbly. "You going to join me?"

"Well, I don't know," BDubs laughs, leaning over Etho's shoulder. "Is it safe?"

"I don't know why it wouldn't be."

"Water's cursed," BDubs reminds him. "There could be boogiemen about."

"You trying to tell me something BDubs?" Etho asks slyly, peering up at his friend.

"What? No of course not," BDubs laughs. He sits beside Etho, plunging his bare feet into the water beside the dock. "Even if I was, you know me Etho. You? Kill you? You'd kill me first."

"I don't know about that," Etho hums, splashing another palm full of water on a buckle clasp and scrubbing at a rusted stain with his thumb. "You made pretty efficient work of Grian."

"Grian had it coming," BDubs shrugs. "Got too caught up listening to the music."

Etho chuckles. "The music was very good."

BDubs kicks his feet in the water, humming the tune momentarily under his breath. It's a haunting sound, not really meant to be sung. Not by anything human. Etho shudders in spite of himself.

"Man, don't do that."

"Sorry! Haha! Sorry. Couldn't help it," BDubs grins a gap-tooth smile in Etho's direction, his eyes bright and gilded by the setting sun. "It's probably one of the coolest kills I've ever gotten."

"I'll make sure Tango knows you said that."

"Oh, Tango's fine." Bdubs waves a hand dismissively. "He's just upset 'cause I scared him."

"You did more than just scare him."

Dark room. Dark water. Tango screaming and running, scrabbling at the walls with his nails. If they ever went back to that little cave, Etho wondered if there would be marks on the walls like the docks, played, desperate fingers, digging.

"Well he's alive, isn't he?"

"I guess he is."

"Then he should get over it!"

Etho shakes his head, laughing. BDubs' voice is over-loud on the quiet lake, but its a good sound. Full of intensity and joy, and revelry. It made the silence between his words stark and empty, and Etho was always loathe to fill it.

Bdubs suddenly wraps an arm around Etho's shoulders, pulling him into a conspiratorial embrace. "Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you, by the way."

Etho suddenly has goosebumps on his neck, his spine, his arms. BDubs' arm is cold against his shoulders. He smells of bracken and standing water, and his eyes are bright as sunset. Etho takes a long, slow breath in and holds it for a moment.

"Uh... Yeah, BDubs?"

"I've got a plan, you know, for the others," Bdubs continues, his voice dropping to something near a whisper. There is something on the edge of his tone like the ringing of bells. Excitement. Thrill. Hunger. "But I'll need some help. I mean, I'm good at redstone, you know 'ol BDubs knows his stuff. But I need an expert. Someone good at traps."

"You know you've always got me Bdubs," Etho laughs, and it is hard to keep the nervousness from his voice. He's not sure he succeeds. "I'm happy to help. Just uh--" He shrugs his shoulders, and BDubs' arm falls away. "You know. Keep your distance."

"You're not scared of me, are you Etho?" Bdubs laughs, and it's loud and boisterous, and perfect. It echoes off the water like glass. Bells and ringing. He gives Etho a prideful, knowing look. "No, you're not scared of little 'ol BDubs. I know what you're scared of."

BDubs suddenly turns and slips into the water. Not all the way. His hands are still clinging to the wood, his elbows resting on the dock like it was a pool side. But the splash hits Etho's side and makes him shudder so hard, he drops the armor he'd been polishing. In a flash he's on his feet, backing away two, three steps. His movements feel too slow and heavy, and there's an instant of panic in him.

"Woah man!" Etho snaps, startled. He reaches for something, anything-- "I said keep your--!"

But BDubs is laughing, kicking his feet, stirring up the mud at the bottom of the river. "Oh come on Etho. It's water."

Etho takes three long breaths, filling his lungs to bursting before pushing the air out again heavy through his nose.

"You're fine you big baby," BDubs grins, resting his head on his crossed arms. His legs stop kicking, stop stirring up the mud, and Etho can see the water is shallow enough that he's standing on the bottom. He'd thought-- he'd thought-- "You'd think I tried to drown you, jeez."

He thought it was deeper.

Etho held his breath for a moment, counted slowly. He wanted to reach his hand to his neck, to check his pulse. To see how fast his heart was beating. He moved his hand to, and at a mocking glance from his friend, decides instead to stoop to pick up his dropped armor. He walks carefully to his basket and places it inside.

"Why'd you come down here, anyway?" BDubs asks. "If you're so scared, I mean."

"You know me, BDubs. I always come back," Etho answers, almost a reflex. A rehearsed answer. "Who else would I go to?"

"Tango and Skizz?"

"They won't keep me safe like you will." Etho points out. He shudders again, the cold from BDub's touch had seeped into him more than he thought it had. He's acclimating though, like jumping into a pool. It's a cold that seeps out of him, warms as it settles. "It's me and you to the end, right buddy?"

"Of course Etho. I'd never betray you."

Etho looks through his things one last time, then frowns. He turns the basket with his foot. He glances at BDubs, who still watches him from the water's edge. Then he takes a chance and crouches down beside his basket, rifling through with both hands.

"Lose something?" BDubs asks, standing on his tiptoes to get a better look.

Etho looks around, checking first the dock, and then the water beyond. In the deeper water over the side, he sees the flash of a buckle in the dying rays of the sun.

"Oh, huh," BDubs hums disinterestedly. "Guess you'll have to get that."

"BDubs," Etho scowls.

"Fine! Fine. I get it. You don't wanna get wet." BDubs puts up his hands, as though surrendering. "The water really isn't all that bad." He offers Etho a quick little salute. "Be right back."

He takes an exaggerated breath and splashes beneath the dock, stirring up mud and river plants. He breaks the water's surface shortly after, holding up the fallen armor piece triumphantly. "Ta-da! Hold your applause. I know I'm great."

Etho, in spite of himself, chuckles. He shivers again -- the evening is getting cold -- and reaches a hand out. BDubs places the buckle in his hand, then reaches his other hand up to clasp Etho's gently. It's awkward and off-balance, Etho leaning precariously over the side of the dock, and BDubs on his tip-toes, holding him in place. It isn't a hard grasp. At any moment, Etho can take his hand away. He has always been stronger than BDubs.

"Hey, Etho, I really have missed you, man," BDubs says, smiling fondly, his voice soft. It isn't a whisper. It simply isn't loud and brash like he normally is. Heartfelt. The kind of tone that beckons, that wants to be listened to. "I mean-- I've missed us doing things together. It reminds me of the good 'ol days, you know? NHO and Mindcrack. We make a good team."

"We do," Etho agrees. He takes a long, slow breath. He shivers.

He frowns.

Etho pulls his hand out of BDubs, and BDubs offers no resistance. Etho looks down at his hand, at the wrinkled, waterlogged skin. He rubs his thumb across his forefingers, feeling the odd texture, grounding himself on it. Etho takes a deep breath in, lets it out again slowly.

"How long have I been in the water, BDubs?" Etho whispers.

Etho is still holding the belt buckle in one hand, still looking down at the wrinkled fingers of his other. BDubs is still in front of him, only his head and shoulders above the water. Etho looks back over his shoulder. The dock is startlingly far away, the basket sitting on the very edge. Beyond it, his boots and water bucket are sitting in the grass beside rushes and willow branches.

"Does it matter?" BDubs asks, smiling gently.

Etho takes a long, deep breath through his nose.

"Oh, don't be scared," BDubs says, moving silently closer. He reaches out his hands and grasps Etho's arms, a gentle touch, reassuring. A friend trying to assuage fear. His eyes are blazing red and orange with the setting sun, but the sky is black and salted with stars. "I didn't drag you down here, Etho. You came to me, remember?"

"BDubs--"

"You know I'd never betray you," BDubs continues, taking a slow step backwards. He pulls Etho with him, and Etho, by habit and familiarity, takes a step forward. The allure of BDubs' voice tilts his vision. He's on the dock, holding the buckle that fell in the water, and BDubs is clasping his hands, and the sun is setting. The water is up to his chest, and the world is dark star-filled, and BDubs is taking another step backwards, and Etho is following. "I could have betrayed you day one, and I didn't. I'm just asking for your help, Etho. You and me together, right?"

"BDubs--"

"It's the deep water, isn't it?" BDubs croons, like he's speaking to a child. "The deep water scares you? It's okay. You're fine."

Etho is fine. His breathing is slow, his heartbeat even. He wants to be scared. He should be scared. But BDubs is his friend.

BDubs reaches up to Etho's neck, not to strangle or to threaten, but to gently cup his hands around him. He pulls gently on Etho, not to drag Etho down, but to raise himself up, so they're nearly eye to eye. Etho feels water around his shoulders, and shivers.

"It's okay," BDubs says. "I would never hurt you, I promise. We don't have to go any deeper." His voice even and calm, inexorable. Etho's pulse doesn't quicken when he says, "You know how many people drown in shallow water? It's easy. I'll be with you the whole time."

The water is around Etho's neck, and BDubs is above him just slightly. One hand raises slowly to the back of Etho's head, fingers gently tangling in his hair. It is the caress of someone who cares for him deeply, someone who wants him to stay. The feeling is wholly dissonant from the words being spoken. Water? Drowning? How could someone who loves him so much drown him?

"You want to stay with me, right?" BDubs asks. "You and me together, we'd be unstoppable, Etho. The best duo the Life Series has ever seen."

BDub's hand on Etho's neck moves just slightly, the thumb pulling around to rest on his adam's apple. The hand in his hair clenches just a little. A warning. "You're not thinking about betraying me, are you?"

Etho shivers again. He wants to be afraid.

"You know, Grian said some things before he drowned," BDubs's hand on his neck tightened just a little. Etho could feel his pulse against BDub's thumb, finally, finally beginning to quicken. "He said you were a survivor. He said you'd leave me -- heh -- high and dry. You wouldn't do that, would you, Etho?"

Etho's pulse quickened more. There was a cold numbness in his limbs that he hadn't even noticed gathering, and his sluggishly awakening panic pushed it from him.

"BDubs," Etho said, his voice small and hoarse in his throat, "let me go."

"Etho..." BDubs said warningly.

"Let me go!" Etho shouted, planting his hands on BDub's chest and shoving backwards away. What he felt, in that brief second, was neither skin nor flesh, nor the softness of fabric. He felt tangled river weeds, and fish scales, slimy and cold against his skin. The cursed thing that looked like BDubs but wasn't, released Etho spitefully. His claws tore from Etho's neck, scraped along the back of his head to come free with pale strands of his hair. Suddenly there were arms around him, and Etho screamed and thrashed as he was dragged.

"I've got you dude! I've got you!"

It was Skizz, his voice a thunderous bellow in Etho's ear, his arms feverishly hot against him where they clamped like vices around his waist. Skizz dragged Etho from the water like he weighed nothing. Etho got his feet underneath himself and clung to Skizz, staggering out of the water as quick as he could. He heard feet pounding on the dock, and glanced over to watch Tango sprint across the wood. He stooped, grabbed up Etho's basket, and sprinted back with it, the reaching, clawed hand of the thing that looked like BDubs snapping for his ankles and missing.

"I got him!" Skizz shouted to Tango, scrambling onto the grass, refusing to let Etho go until they were well up the path. "Did you see how close he was?!"

"Yeah I saw!" Tango snapped, choking on his own fear, gulping in air and coughing it back out again. "It tried to drag me in!"

"Oh my god, are you okay dude?" Skizz demanded, and, when Tango nodded, he turned back to Etho. "Are you okay? I didn't see you go under. Can you breathe?"

Etho, who had collapsed into the grass the moment Skizz released him, lay there gasping like a hooked fish. He shivered, pale and cold from how long he spent in the water-- how long had he been in the water. He could still feel the thing's burning claws in streaks across his neck, and a tickling of blood at the back of his head.

"Etho?"

"I'm okay," Etho gasped, "I'm sorry I just-- I needed-- I wanted--"

"I know what you wanted!" Tango snapped angrily, the anger of someone who had risked his life. The anger of someone who thought a friend of his was dead, or dying. "But it's not him, Etho."

"It sounds like him," Etho whispered. He threw an arm over his eyes and shivered again. "It sounds like him, though."

"I know it does buddy, I know," Skizz said, his voice full of sympathy and pity. He waited with mountainous patience as Etho pulled himself together, and then helped Etho stand.

Together, they walked back to the fort.

Behind them, something cursed and hungry in the dark water, sang, and its voice was sweet and familiar.

[whiteoutdoesart]

[hybbart]

The hosts of the games (minus Grian, who hosted 3rd life himself) Each one was hosted by a watcher inspired by the original game to host their own.

lore below

The Boogieman (he/she) loves bloodsports and the drama of betrayal, so she created a game in which curses were bestowed upon players (some more permanent than others) and gave them the ability to gain and lose more hearts in order to encourage violence. He hosted Last Life after seeing how Grian's game ended and wanted more red life drama.

The Spinner (they/them) loves the relationship drama and tragedy of the games, so made a mechanic to pair up the players. Their favourite biome is the Ancient City because of its horror movie (the true romantic genre supposedly) like atmosphere, so they built the arena atop one. They cursed golden apples to break bonds and put them in the game hoping at least one of the pairs would participate int he drama of consuming them, but the planned failed to their annoyance.

The Clockmaker (any) is a control freak who interfered the most forwardly with their games. They wanted the most chances possible for stories and gaming, so created a mechanic to allow for more deaths and strategies. They ended up breaking Limited Life more often than not with their strange mechanics. They wanted a centrepiece to their arena similar in danger to the pillager outpost Double Life incidentally had, but broke it while attempting to make resources more plentiful to minimize time resource gathering.

The Secret Keeper (it/its) wanted to create a more relaxed game with more ridiculous and silly situations, so inserted itself into the game to hand out tasks to do instead of mull around until the players kill each other and mechanics to discourage hurting each other directly. It doesn't care for the drama the others before it loved so much, and didn't both maintaining the curses Boogieman placed leading to some of them breaking.

[hybbat]

One thing I don't like is characterizing Jimmy's canary curse as a fault of his ego/stupid mistakes. He can be and has done those things, but that's not the root of why he loses.

In third life his last death was from a stray arrow that managed to slip through a half block from half a desert away, absolutely a freak accident and crazy shot into a box that was supposed to protect him. Two of his deaths happened back to back in this game, staying completely safe the rest of the time and in both he wasn't the only one.

In last life the man started with two lives and spent the whole game on those two lives! He died in the middle of a big fight where he was not the only one to perma die.

In double life Tango was at fault for the first death, and Jimmy WAS being extra cautious. Even Tango noted how long Jimmy went without dying. And can we acknowledge how incredibly crazy it is that he got knocked off from an arrow that hit him on the BACK of his head? All four were leaned out, and Scar made it out safe, because their attackers were specifically hunting the ranchers based on misunderstanding and bullying. And the enderman death. He was the third to die that way, lasted the longest with the least (on a food run, shield almost dead, no safe trees, abandoned) and that enderman came out of nowhere. That was the purest of bad luck.

And in limited life. Well, there's a lot of deaths, and some of them were silly. But several of his deaths were to Grian and HIS mistakes/malice. He fell off their base the least and his final death was one not even unique to him. The real nail in the coffin was Etho's boogie kill which was never intended to be him but Etho attacked a group after Impulse stole his kill. But the important thing to note is despite all that, Jimmy still died one of if not the fewest times in limited life!

Jimmy's problem isn't making stupid mistakes like Scar. He doesn't make them more often than any other player. He died the fewest times in two seperate series! His problem is his refusal to pvp. He never gets boogieman, he never knocked anyone else down, and when he does end up in group fights he tends to lose or run away. Limited life he got probably the fewest kills besides Tango, and three of them were willingly given to him. He never gained any lives in last life except his brief moment stealing martyn's. Jimmy's biggest problem is that he is too cautious and has zero fighting instinct, he never takes the risks to get ahead, and each time he even thinks of it he's punished for it so who can blame him.

And also Grian. Honestly, mostly Grian.

[mcyt-trios]

PROPAGANDA:

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss:

Listen to me closely. There is no other alliance on the whole Traffic series as based as them. They did EXACTLY what they set out to do. Did they Gaslight? Oh fuck yeah. Did they Gatekeep? You better believe it. Did they Girlboss??? By the good grace of god they did!!!!!!! They are simultaneously the blueprint for every trio of mean girls in a 2000s high school movie and the most genuinely devoted alliance on the whole server. They trust and respect and love each other in ways beyond mortal comprehension. Vote them please I'm begging you.

They were an absolute powerhouse! Also also, Cleo finding herself a group of people who were properly loyal to her after being betrayed for the healing arc. Scott telling them he was the boogieman and refusing to kill even if it meant going red. They're just so hhhhhh

cleo is gaslight (setting things on fire), scott is gatekeep (protecting the base), and pearl is girlboss (girlbossing).

Quite possibly the most ride or die alliance of Last Life. Consistently sharing lives, helping each other get boogey kills, refusing to hurt each other… they were just such a feel good team up for the entire series :] and then they kicked Pearl out in double life :]

Listen they are the EPITOME of ride or die. They love each other so much during that time. Do you hear me. Dear God they are the most precious

Best faction on Last Life. Set the template for pretty much everything Scott and Cleo do together, and set us up for 5AM Pearl.

Boreal Trio:

look. look okay so youve got two battle hardened at least mildly immortal warrior brothers-in-arms slash best friends slash partners for life, and then youve got this anxious, queer wet cat of an enderman who lives in their shed. oooh my god this is gonna be so incoherent im so sorry. ranboo was doing soooo awful when doomsday happened and both techno and phil immediately went him. that one. he needs to be safe and supported and away from all of this he should come with us. only if he wants to. and he did want to!! he was soo anxious but he got more confident!! none of them are great at expressing their feelings verbally (techno is but he also does other things) so they do it in other ways! phil rushing over as soon as he hears ranboo CLOSE to water because he knows it hurts him! techno moving the prison break up from 'some time soon i guess' to 'now now we are leaving now we are doing this RIGHT NOW' as SOON as ranboo gets detained!! avenging his ghost, throwing any and all hesitation about tubbo away to work with him because that was what ranboo wanted, that was what he asked. always checking in and making sure he was okay. all three of them are soooo dysfunctional but i love them so much. think of the mansion raid streams!! techno and ranboo off adventuring, phil taking care of the animals and getting up at 3am real time to trigger their stasis chambers!! they care about each other all so fucking much and they are a family! please vote for them i will be very sad otherwise :(

[puddleorganism]

I’ve seen a LOT of different - all very cool - ideas for what Martyn’s winner thing should be and naturally I’m going to make it worse

Martyn design by @cherrifire !

(Explanation and version with blood under the cut)

See, my thinking is that Limited Life’s win broke a pattern. In every previous season, the winners were victorious due to some sort of contradiction to the rest of the game.

Third Life was a war fought in self-interest. Most factions came together to fight simply because they had a greater enemy than each other that needed to be taken care of. Even people who were incredibly loyal to their allies expected loyalty in return. Grian won because of Scar’s selflessness. He gave his life not as a test, not to become a stronger weapon, not to pay back a debt. He gave his life for gratitude. A peace treaty signed in blood.

Due to the introduction of the boogieman mechanic in Last Life, that season was one of hidden intentions. In the end, there was no will-I-won’t-I. The final four declared, with utmost clarity what their intentions were. We’re going our separate ways, and when we next see each other we will kill each other.

In Double Life the pairs were meant to protect and care for each other, to bring each other to the end. Pearl not only was shunned by her soulbound, but actively caused harm to herself and Scott and was purposefully reckless with their lives. Then, I’m honestly not sure what they were meant to do when there were only two left lol. I think they would’ve either had two winners, or forced the final two to fight. Either way, Pearl wasn’t the winner of her own accord.

Finally, Limited Life, the outlier. Ironically, this season was one of sudden, unexpected deaths. You’d think it wouldn’t be, with a timer telling everyone exactly when they were going to die; and yet no one’s timer (except Martyn’s) actually hit zero. With the re-introduction of the boogieman mechanic and all the damn tnt minecarts SO many deaths were unexpected - and there were so many of them. It was a bloodbath. And that’s exactly how Martyn won. It was unexpected, it was unfair, and it was brutal.

His win was the opposite of all the others. A defiance of a pattern of defiance. It makes sense, given what I understand of his lore.

That’s why I think he ought to be the black hole (or event horizon, if you want a cooler title lol). All the other winners put out some sort of light, even if they don’t literally scientifically produce light. The sun, the stars, the moon. Martyn is the outlier, the one who embraced the darkness and the blood.

The sun, the stars, the moon, and the looming event horizon.

[sprucefrog]

In lieu of Mumbo being on Secret Life have a Mumbo Last Life posts that's been sitting in my drafts forever:

Last Life Mumbo is something else:

Ep.1: Zooms in on Grian's backside (ass) with a spyglass.

Ep.2: [Standing among the other southlanders] "Do you wanna kiss?"

Ep.3: Marries Martyn.

Ep.4: "I'm sorry Grian... I love your back."

Ep.6: [Talking to Grian] "Should we just, just stare at each other for the whole session and just really really admire one another?"

____________________________

Bonus:

Ep.2: [Talking about Scar] "He didn't have to do me though."

Ep.4: "I'm not the boogieman!!! I'm... I mean I'm the, I'm the boOgieman!" *starts dancing*

Ep.6: [Talking about Scott] "He is quite talented he is... and handsome as well. Wow, what a man."

[novastardoughnut]

Wild life predictions

With a new season of the life series, I like to do what I've done for the last couple and make predictions over what I think might happen so I can reflect back when the season is over. So, based on what we have right now with only 2 episodes, here are my thoughts

As much as I wish for it, I don't predict Jimmy going out first. This could always turn around in an instant, but with 6 lives and the more careful, cautious playstyle, Jimmy might have a fairly good chance here. i can pray this jinxes it, but I dont think it'll work. I predict skizz dying first based solely on him having the most deaths so far

So far, the rules have all been mechanical changes affecting how functions of the game work. I don't expect this to change. Future wild cards I predict are randomised drops (IE destroying dirt gives diamonds, destroying stone gives steak), blocks getting sand physics, the floor is lava (standing on grass sets you on fire) and a bounty of some descriptor (kinda like an inverted boogieman for when there are still some yellows or greens outnumbered by reds or limes. One person is told hunt [blank] and the other is told theyre being hunted)

I think the wildcards will get increasingly violent or potentially costly in terms of life loss. In order to push towards that end point and red madness.

I think that impulse has a pretty good chance of winning here, and i would love for him to take a win, but equally, we now have a pretty good chance of a repeat winner.

The tuff guys are in a terse relationship, and I have no doubt they'll kill tango or kick him out at an early opportunity.

I'm not convinced martyn and ren will get heavily involved in RP too much. The newer more episodic format i think draws players away from player interaction/character drama into more environmental struggles that place focus into engaging with the gimmick of the session.

[waffles-art-writing]

Times Where Your Mind Takes Over - Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Kinda Head Cannons)

Summary: It has barely been a few months since you were able to leave the medical wing, the psychical wounds healing and scarring, mental… not so much. All the times your mind has taken the wheel and makes you crumble beneath its grasp, how all the boys of the 141 help you through your pain.

(Thank you @boogieman-23 & @tomhardy41 for your comments! And the inspo! Sorry if it’s not what you had in mind, I hope you don’t mind the tag!)

(Part 2 to JOKER) Sorry this took so long to get out.

Proofread: Nope, couldn’t be bothered.

Pairing: 141!Platonic x Fem!Reader

WordCount: around 4.5K

Age Rating: PG13

Codename: JOKER

KEY: Y/N - Your Name, L/N - Last Name.

Warning/Info: PTSD, Anxiety, mentions of torture, conscious of self image, weapons, injury, Normal COD stuff, PTSD Nightmares.

May turn this into a proper series! Comment if you are interested in that :)

——————————————————

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

It’s been almost five weeks since you got out of the medical wing, you stayed in your room a lot more than before the mission and being caught. You locked yourself up in your room for the first week, only leaving to shower and get food. The weeks following you attended some of the training, always having a balaclava or a black medical mask on. You hid from prying eyes of other people, avoiding areas with a lot of other soldiers. If you had to go into an area with ten or more people you would beg one of the boys to come with you, most commonly if it was Soap who joined you. Or you would just avoid it and wait. But now at week five you have gained the courage to mill around the base by yourself more often, keeping your face covered always.

Ignoring the lingering gazes of people, or the quiet conversations you hear around you. You're gaining back your courage, your old out going self is slowly coming back, until you were left alone in the gunnery with a new recruit.

You worked quietly at a table off to the side of the room cleaning your new sniper rifle, thanks to Price, he was able to get your rifle back to you in somewhat good condition after it was abandoned back where your life got turned upside down. The sound of fabric on metal, the satisfying clicks of parts going together, it’s calming. That is until someone walks into the room, you feel their eyes burning holes in your back, your movements falter when you hear them walk up behind you.

The feeling of dread rushing through you as you think fast, your mind not connecting the dots of this is a gunner on base, people come and go. But with it being late in the evening, you thought you would be by yourself. Your body moves before your mind can protest.

You whip around, your fist clenched around the handle of the small pocket knife you had on the table, your blade mere inches from the poor recruits throat. You stare him down, your eyes dark, fear is driving you, nothing but bone chilling fear courses through you. Your arm drops, the realisation hitting you in the face like a sack of bricks. You mumble out a quick apology as you throw everything hap-hazardly into the rifle case, not caring as you zip it up. You dart out the room, not running, not sprinting, just hauling ass at a quick walking pace. The dim halls lighting your way out into the compound, leading into the mess hall that is connected to the barracks - the place you desperately want to be - attempting to avoid as many people as possible.

You speed walk down the corridor, weaving in and out of other soldiers, your rifle case clutched in your hand.

The pounding of your heart thumps in your ears, blood rushing, mind racing, not a single thought about what’s in front of you. The only thing that is racing through your mind is the heart stopping feeling of someone behind you, the eyes of a predator biting into you. You’re practically shaking as you walk towards the doors of the barracks your team resides in. You fumble with a keycard that's in your pocket, your hands shaking as you swipe it through the slot. “Come one” you mumble as you try again, the red light buzzing again. The small screen lighting up presents a ‘Cannot Read Card’. You try again, and again, the same declined buzz sounding out.

You growl out in frustration as you wipe the card on your shirt, hot tears blur your vision, your throat tight like you cannot breathe. Suddenly everything seems to disappear, the tight throat, the fear of the man that caused you harm coming back to get you.

The feeling of safety envelopes you when a gloved hand wraps around yours, you jump out of your skin at first. You look up to see your Lieutenant, his eyes cold as ever but there's the hint of worry dancing in them. “Easy love…” he mumbles, keeping his voice low to not startle you more. He sees you shaking, he watched you struggle with the Key card a few times before he decided to come help you. “Breathe, focus, you're safe” his voice is calm, you nod as you let his hand guide yours through the process of swiping the card. The light turns green and the sound of the door unlocking rings in your ears.

You push forward, Ghost not too far behind, he managed to take your rifle case from you without being caught. You don't even make it to your room before you collapse to your knees in the corridor. Quiet sobs fill the room, Ghost’s quiet footsteps barely audible as he approaches you carefully, knowing how you feel. He’s experienced his own form of torture, paranoia, fear and the feeling of something or someone coming back to continue to pummel you with their hellbent rage. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t touch you, just stands next to you quietly. Allowing you to drain your emotions without fear of someone coming in, seeing you weak and vulnerable

You walk into the corridor, you fall to your knees, finally you’re somewhere that no one can see you. At least no one outside the 141 that is. Ghost stands next to you, not talking, not touching. He’s not good with words, he himself just bottles everything up and shoves it deep inside with Simon Riley to be able to become the infamous Ghost.

You stand on shaky legs, a few sniffles coming out as you brush the dirt off your knees. Ghost places his hand on the small of your back, quietly telling you he’s there if you need him, his actions are more than you could ask for.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish

You finally got convinced by Soap to spar with him, finally getting you out og the cocoon of a blanket burrito he found you in. You were moping around the small common room that’s in the barracks you share witht he 141, everyone could tell that something put you off, resetting your progress of coming back to your normal self. Ghost knows, no one else does, the silent Lieutenant kept your break down hour between you and him. He hasn’t even told Price, your captain.

The sparring was going well, your confidence in hand to hand combat still there. You discarded the black medical mask not too long ago, finding it easier to breathe without it while inside. You’ve managed to pin Soap to the mat, a confident smirk on your face, a glimpse into the real you. “Fuck- I thought you would’ve gotten worse without training for as long as you did.” The Scotsman huffs out, sweat dripping down his brow, his smile not leaving his face, happy you’re coming out of your shell again. You step away from him to let him get up, you wipe your face with your shirt, ignoring the twinge in your side from a punch he landed on you.

The sound of the metal hinges chime out, your body freezes, mind going into overdrive as your eyes widen. Your mask is on the other side of the room by your bag and Soap’s. “Lass, look at me” he's quick to draw your attention away from the new presence in the room, his hands come to rest on your shoulders, making you look at him. “Joker, look at me, not at the mirror, not the people behind you. Me, got that?” His voice is low, almost commanding compared to his normal cheerful and playful tone he most commonly uses.

You nod, your breathing picking up in pace as you glance at yourself in the wall mirror of the gym, the scars that adorn your face stick out like a sore thumb. Soap uses his thumb to guide your face back to his, brows furrowed slightly as he makes you look at him.

Why are they in here, what are they doing here? Are they here to judge you? Stare at your scars? Tease you? Bully you? Make fun of you? Here to push you against the wall and poke at you, cause you more pain, point out all the damage that has been thrust upon you without your permission. Make you feel even worse about yourself than you already do, make you want to lock yourself in your room and wallow in self hatred. “Lass, look at me.

“Johnny- I can’t… I can’t do this…” You mumble, leaning into him, hiding your face in his chest, your fingers curl around a dark blue shirt he is wearing. “Okay, okay, just hold onto me doll I’ll get you out of here. You just gotta focus on me okay?” He looks down at you, you nod your head. Soap cautiously leads you out of the room, the rowdy group of people too caught up in their conversation to notice you two slipping out the door. Soap scoops you up in his arms, your arms wrapped around his neck, holding onto him like your life depends on it.

Your heart beat is in your ears, the rushing feeling to your head makes you feel nauseous, bile rises up into your throat. “I’m gonna be sick” You mumble, biting your tongue to try to keep it under control. Soap mumbles out an ‘okay’ luckily you’re mere metres from the bathroom, he kicks open the door, hoping no one is in there going about their business while he hauls his team mate that is about to be sick into one of the stalls.

Burning fills your throat as you cough out your breakfast into the toilet, your hands gripping the edge of the porcelain bowl. The smell makes you feel even worse than before, your body quivers, energy plummeting with your adrenaline from the fear. Soaps large hands rub your back gently, while his other hands back your hair, trying to soothe you. You groan as your stomach twists into more knots, sweat running down your face mixing with tears. “You’re okay Lass…” Soap’s low timbre sounds out from behind you.

You sit back onto your heels, attempting to bring your breathing under control. Soap passes you some toilet paper before flushing the toilet, you wipe your mouth while thanking Soap for everything he has done for you. “Thank you Johnny… for everything.” Soap chuckles lightly while shaking his head, he gently pulls you closer, he can still see you quivering from the fear you can feel. “Nonsense Lass, it's the least I can do.” You huff in annoyance as you snuggle into him, his arms wrapping out you tightly.

It’s peaceful being wrapped up in his arms, despite what just happened and where you are. You can hear his heartbeat, it's even and soothing in your ear. Your breathing evening out, falling in sync with Soap’s. You eventually fall asleep, despite being on the fall in the bathroom. Soap smiles slightly, a huff of air leaving him like a chuckle. His arms loop under your legs and back, lifting you off the ground.

Soap passes a few people in the corridor, ignoring their stares, thankful you naturally hid your face into his shoulder. He bumps into Gaz on the way to your room, thankful he's there to open the barrack doors. “Thanks mate” Gaz shrugs, as he follows you two into the corridor. “Is she okay?” He asks, wondering why Soap is carrying their teammate. “She should be now, got crowded in the gym.” Soap states as Gaz opens the door to your room, he stays by the door watching as Soap tucks you into your bed.

“I’ll go get her some water” the younger man states, walking off. Soap brushes the hair out of your face, fingers dancing over the scars on your face. He pulls your desk chair up next to your bed, leaning his elbows on your bed. “You’re safe Lass, we’re all here, I’m here.” He mumbles as he leans on his arms, rubbing small circles on your hand with his thumb.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

You stare into the mirror, eyes locked onto the pale pinkish skin that now adorns your cheeks.

The sinister smile staring back at you, the memory of the blade, the dark gaze, the sinister smirk.

Your hands clutch the sink basin, knuckles white as your breathing becomes shallow and quick.

Tears slip from your eyes, falling down your cheeks and into the white porcelain sink.

That’s when you see him, the same smirk that chills you to your core. Makes your stomach churn like a stormy sea, your eyes widen in fear, your throat constricting as you see the bloody blade come to hover in front of you. The crimson red dripping from the steel, the same red that drips from your cheeks, the pain. Searing pain, blinding white hot pain. You attempt to scream, nothing comes out, your voice nonexistent, useless. You flinch away when no the blade trails along your lips, suddenly seeing your wrists and ankles bound to the chair.

The same man leans in close, his breath fanning over your face, the psychotic look in his eyes sending shivers down your spine. “No, No no no no” you whisper out, your body shaking as tears blur your vision. “No! Go away! You’re dead! I killed you! Leave me alone!” You scream out, tugging against the rope.

A fist connects with the wooden door, banging on it, door handle jiggling. “Lass! Open up!” Soap calls out, his voice scratchy from being woken from your screams, he's just in sweatpants. “JOKER! Wake up!” He steps back, when Ghost comes running down the corridor, Price and Gaz following. “What the bloody hell is going on Johnny?!” Ghost barks out, his eyes dark, the normal black paint around his eyes missing, just a plain black balaclava adorns his face. “She’s having a nightmare! She’s screamin’ bloody murder!” Soap replies as he turns to the team, his face painted with worry. “The door is locked and she’s not waking up” his fists clench when he hears you call out for them, begging for whatever hellish dream your mind is laying out for you.

Ghost stands in front of the door, his large frame casting a harsh shadow on the wood. He backs up, stepping forward again, kicking at the weak point of the door.

The sound of wood splintering fills the room, light floods into the darkness of your room. Your blankets kicked to the floor, pillow hanging off the edge, your own body squirming. “Leave me alone!” You scream, you’re still asleep.

Tears stream down your cheeks, you can hear the faint sound of your name being called. It’s familiar, but desperate, almost begging. You whip your head around to try find the source, your mind racing as you hear the all too familiar nickname. “Lass, wake up!” Soap! It’s Johnny, he’s here, but where? You hear another voice, its firm, commanding, the timbre of the man’s voice comforting.

“Kid, Love, you gotta wake up” Ghost… What are they doing here, but where are they, you need them. “Ghost- Soap? Please! Help!” You whimper out, a choked sob escaping you. A you feel warmth, sudden warmth on your shoulders, hands, rough hands. Familiar hold, it’s Ghost… and Soap. They are here, you can’t see them. “Open your eyes Lass, nothings gonna hurt you.”

You wake with a jolt, your hands clutching at Ghost’s arms, your breathing quick as you sit bolt upright. That’s when it hits you, the constricting feeling of crying, blurry vision. You see Ghost first, then Soap. You shake in Ghost’s hold, terrified to move, to speak, to even blink as you stare wide eyed at the two men. Gaz and Price are by the door, giving you three as much room as possible. Not wanting to overwhelm you. That’s when you lock eyes with your friend, a pained sob falls from you as you reach out to the one of the youngest on the team, Gaz. Ghost has moved to the side, Soap stays seated on the ground by your bed as Gaz walks over.

His sibling-like nature comforts you more than you would care to admit. He moves slowly when he approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes full of concern as he watches you shake in your spot. You make small grabby-hands to him, he chuckles lightly as he moves closer, knowing you just need the comfort. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your face coming to hide in his neck, quiet sobs can be heard from you as Gaz rub’s your back. He knows the pain of having nightmares so vividly they leave you shaken, not wanting to sleep ever again, hell, they all do.

After some time, your sobs turn to sniffles. Ghost ended up sitting at your desk, Soap behind you, keeping a hand on your shoulder, rubbing small shapes there. Price disappeared for a little while, coming back with extra blankets as pillows. “I have an idea” He states as he stands in the doorway, knowing you love movie nights with the team even though he somewhat finds them annoying. Soap jumps from his seat, happy for sudden movie night in the middle of the night. Gaz chuckles, looking down at you, seeing you smile a little.

He scoops you up, carrying you to the couch in the common area of the 141 Barracks. He settles down, you comfortably snuggled up next to him. Soap cramps himself on the other side of you, dragging Ghost with him. Price takes his spot in an armchair next to the couch, remote to the tv in hand as he flicks on your favourite movie.

Gaz keeps you close throughout the movie, quietly talking to you to keep your mind occupied when the movie goes quiet. You eventually fall back asleep in his arms, his thumb rubbing small circles on your back. Soap leaning on you, one the verge of sleep himself, Price is still awake - albeit barely - while Ghost has his head back, small snores leaving him. There’s a small smile on your face, knowing you're safe and surrounded by the ones that are your teammates, friends, family.

Captain John Price

Gaz, Ghost and Soap are off base. It’s the weekend, they decided to go explore the local area the team is currently situated in, they are here to meet with another task force in a few days. You’ve decided to stay in the safe house, taking stock of what there is and if you need to ask Price to help with getting things.

You are standing in the kitchen, food laid out on the kitchen island, not a lot is there, maybe a night or two dinner’s worth, very little for breakfast and not a lot of energy packed things. Whoever was here last didn’t bother with emptying out the cupboards and fridge of perishables. You’ve gagged multiple times, having to dump the trash bag outside as quickly as possible when it started to stink out the safe house. Price walked into the room to find you holding your shirt over your nose, holding the trash bag as far from you as possible. He chuckles when he watches you come back inside, sighing with relief. “So what do ya got Joker?” He asks, walking up next to, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You groan, leaning on the bench, your notepad in front of you. “Not a lot sir, barely two dinners, not a lot of breakfast food along with nothing full of energy or nutrition. So basically nothing…” you rub the back of your neck as you turn to Price, who is smirking at you. “Ain’t surprised, so we're gonna go shopping or what kid?” You shrug, looking at the food in front of you. “It looks like it.”

You’re standing in front of the grocery store, staring at the large glass sliding doors, it’s like a large daunting tower to you. Your staring at the building like a little kid staring at the school building on their first day, anxious, scared of who’s going to be in there, what’s going to happen. Are people going to see what’s under your medical mask? See the scars? see what happened to you? Make you feel even worse about yourself than you already do, stare at you like you’re some freak.

A hand is placed on your shoulder, Price is stomping out his cigarette on the ground. “You can wait in the car if you want, kid.” He states as he watches your hands clenched into fists repeatedly, he knows what you're thinking he can practically see the thoughts playing like a movie in your eyes. “Joker?” You lock eyes with him, you let out a breath you didn't even realise you're holding. “I want to do this… Just stay with me? Please?” You ask, you think you sound pathetic, you know you do, you can hear it in your voice. “Of course, I’ve got your six.” Price states, his hand falling from our shoulder to motion towards the doors. “When you’re ready” you nod, making your way to the doors.

So far it's been reasonably quiet, the occasional customer here and there, they haven’t even given you a second glance. Other than the kids, who would be staring at you and Price. You keep telling yourself that kids will be kids, they stare at anything and everything. Price has kept next to you, slightly behind you the whole time, occasionally placing his hand on your shoulder or your back to make sure you know he’s there. However when it comes to the checkout, there's a man in front of you, his stature similar to the devil you see at night, or behind you in the mirror.

His hair is the same. Your breathing quickens, back straightening, muscles tensing. Price stepped away to grab a bottle of something, he said he will be back in a second. The isle he disappeared into only a few metres away, you turn around to try to find him. But your eyes lock onto someone who’s not Price, a woman, she's looking at you with a small smile. You nod your head in return and turn back, staring at your boots. “Are you okay?” The man in front of you asks, he happened to turn around to see you look from the woman to your boots. You flinch when you hear him, your blood turning to ice. You nod again, not looking up at him, not trusting your voice.

The next thing you know is the basket being taken from your hands, the smell of cigars and leather mixed with something like sandalwood, maybe some gunpowder? “She’s okay, thanks mate, just doesn’t like public places too much” its Price, John, your safety blanket. Price stands between you and man, keeping you close to his side as he unloads the basket onto the checkout conveyor belt. You keep your head down, hands in your pockets to fiddle with loose thread that's in there. The young girl behind the counter asks you for your ID, you look a lot younger than John. He got a bottle of bourbon, so in turn you’re asked for ID.

“She’s old enough, I’m paying anyway.” John states, he is already pulling his wallet out. “I’m sorry but I still need to see her ID, I just don’t want to get growled at by my boss, I’m sorry.” John nods his head, understanding why. You fumble with your wallet, trying to pull the driver licence out. You can hear kids talking to their parents, asking why you need to show your ID, other people are talking about things. Your mind twisting them into why are you taking so long? Why do you wear a mask? Why are you so nervous? It feels like it's been ten minutes of you trying to get your ID.

In reality it's been barely a minute, you finally hand over your ID, she looks from the ID to your face. “Okay cool, sorry for the trouble.” John pays and you’re quick to grab the paper bag and walk out.

You get inside the car, slamming the door behind you. John gets into the driver's side, looking over at you hugging the grocery bag to your chest. You’re staring ahead but not actually looking at anything, just aimlessly staring. Your mind racing, eyes wide, brows furrowed, your mask still secured to your face. “Look at me, Joker.” He calmly states, his tone soft to not startle you, his hand is placed on top of your own on the paper bag. “Kid… It’s me Price, John, you know me. Look at me sweetheart.” He tries to gain your attention, slowly bringing you back into the present.

You slowly look towards Price, fear is evident in your eyes. He gently cups your face in his hands, bringing your foreheads together. It’s something he does with you to ground you, you picked it up from him and ended up doing it with everyone else too. Except for Ghost, he doesn’t like being touched, you have done it one or twice, but that was pure luck. Soap loves it, Gaz adores it, Price does it to keep your attention away from your intrusive thoughts. “Focus on me Joker, you're safe, you’re with me.” You focus on his voice as your eyes flutter closed, your hands gripping the paper bag of groceries tighter. “You can get through this, you're strong, you’re one the best.” his grip on your jaw is grounding, it's firm but not tight.

You open your eyes again, your thoughts slowing down, your breathing back to normal as you look at price. “That’s my girl.” He states with a smirk, pulling away, ruffling your hair slightly like a young child. “Th… Thanks Price.” You mumble, wiping the loose tears from your eyes as you settle down in your seat. “No need to thank me kid, my door is always open if you need me. You know that, right?” He raises a brow as he looks at you, turning the key in the ignition. “Right.” You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you watch Price pull out of the parking lot, driving towards the Safehouse.

You’re beyond thankful for this help, support from all of them. All of them taking their time with helping you with your trauma, anxiety, and the stomach churning nightmares.

[joifee]

is Bigb a watcher in your swamprot art? I noticed the many eyes around him.

Additionally, I would love to hear about your heart monitor headcanon plz

First: No I don't headcanon BigB as a watcher - I actually don't headcanon any of the creators as watcher! But yes this is a reference to the watchers; hinting that they are behind the boogieman curse and watching bigb do it^^ Second: Yes let me explain it, I even drew infographics (i love drawing infographics)

The heart monitors show of the amount of life/time a player has. 3rd life is simple, just three hardcore hearts stacked on top of each other. Last Life shows the amount of hearts you have as a number. Beneath that there is a "GIVE" button you can transfer a life with. I think you do it by pressing the button and making the heart monitors touch (kinda like paying with a credit card) Double Life has two rows of hearts. Your own and the one of your soulbound mirrored on the bottom. In the middle is a "soul string" that represents your relationship. Limited life shows three hearts just to fit in with the others (it isnt really a necessary thing, it just looks cute). It also displays your pulse and the time you have left. (More info and more graphics below)

The heart monitors change depending on whats happening. If you loose a life and turn yellow or red, the missing hearts get blacked out while the rest turn yellow/red.

In Last Life the number just goes down.

When a player turns red in last life, the button gets crossed out and looses its function.

For Lim. Life the more time you loose, the higher beats your pulse (even if it doesn't)

In Double life the "soul string" on the monitor shows the relationship with your soulmate. If you haven't found them, it shows a "?". If you doing well it shows a heart. When you are fighting/not working together/divorced it shows a messed up ball of string. The string is displayed broken when you and your partner run out of lifes.

Elimination turns all the hearts black.

If you are the boogieman, a purple watcher eye appears on your screen that is only visible to the affected player. It overshadows everything else displayed on the monitor. The eye vanishes once you killed another player.

If you recieve or lose time/life a lil purple notifications pops up telling you how much you earn.

Your screen gets messed up if a player doesn't record or is missing an episode (this does not count if a player gets replaced aka gem or lizzie in limited life don't have this.) Example would be Bdubs during in limited life (also yes he uploaded his movie, no I not gonna change it)

Gosh i always wanted to talk about it. Here are some more examples

[fr0gleggs]

Ethubs and Unrequited Devotion

1. How Christianity Encourages Codependence by KC Brown 2. Building the Redstone Shop! - Hermitcraft 10 #8 by TangoTek (7:44) 3. Cop Car by Mitski 4. Psalms 121:6 5. Last Life #5 - Boogieman Business by Ethoslab (23:08) 6. This reddit post by u/DeadSpiderInPocket 7. Zero at the Bone by Jane Seville 8. Last Life: Episode 7 - BETRAYED by Grian (31:55), transcript by beacon-lamp 9. art by @panidanya

[sophieinwonderland]

You’re really brave

People are mean to you. People hate you. People wish death on you.

But you don’t seem upset.

Instead, you look their bigotry in the face, and you laugh at their expense.

I wish I was more like you

I hope you’re doing alright

Thanks! 😊💖

You know, it's weird thinking about how much of my personality is my own, how much came from my source, how much came from my lived experiences since being here, and how much came from my host's upbringing.

Because one thing that I know is that my host grew up watching a lot of the Daily Show and the Colbert Report. When he went hardcore atheist, he started watching religious debunk videos like Logicked. We still watch Last Week Tonight with John Oliver every week.

I think in some ways, a lot of that has influenced my own perspective.

At a certain level, you have to laugh at the bigotry. Because while it can be extremely harmful, it is also kind of funny due to the absurdity of it all.

There is a deep irony here that coats every layer of syscourse

I mean, just look at sysmeds! They treat science like a religion, yet most have never read a single academic paper in their life. They puff out their chests and confidently proclaim that all of the doctor support them, yet can't even quote a single one.

They get offended if you compare them to transmeds, but then will use the same exact arguments.

Behind every single belief or value they claim to have is another contradiction for another layer of misinformation.

And I just can't help but find humor in that.

And even the death threats... Are kind of funny too. Because in the end, I'm not someone who will ever be worried that they are going to find me. Nor am I somebody who would be encouraged to take my own life when they tell me to.

A couple years ago, every sysmed had "demo systems DNI" in their pinned. Do you want to know what a demo system is?

According to them, it described a group who was just trying out being a system. People who would make temporary headmates that they would get rid of if it didn't work out.

THEY DIDN'T EXIST!

I don't mean that in a fake claiming way. I mean that in the way that, the earliest source for this, seemed to be a sysmed who misspelled Endo and got hit with autocorrect.

This was not a real group until after they made it one! Yet they whipped the entire anti-endo community into a frenzy over it. To the point that all of them were telling this imaginary group of people that didn't exist to not interact with them. 🤣

They made long posts decrying how terrible these demo system supposedly were.

And from the very beginning, it was just a sysmed boogieman.

That's funny stuff! 😁

[snake-eyes-11]

ooc; Hello everyone.

I know I'm not around here very much, but I heard some news today and I felt I should write something about it.

For those of you that haven't heard, we lost an absolute legend today.

Ken Page, the voice of our beloved Boogieman, has died at the age of 70.

I obviously didn't know him personally, but I have known and still have the pleasure of knowing the character he loved and played so well.

When I first watched TNBC, I was captivated with the characters immediately, but I always loved to hate Oogie. He was the perfect villain to me: flamboyant, sinister, funny and scary. I've heard countless people say they were scared of the movie for how intimidating Oogie was.

I've always tried to embody the heart and spirit Ken Page gave to Oogie in his voice acting and I like to think I achieved it for the most part, but there truly would not be Oogie as we know him without Ken Page.

I had the honour of seeing him perform live at The Nightmare Before Christmas: Live in Concert in December 2019 and I was utterly spellbound by how good he sounded live and in person over twenty years since the release of TNBC.

He was, as I said, a legend that will truly be missed and even though he will never see my blog and will never know how much his performance touched me as an individual, I want to thank him from the bottom of my heart for bringing one of my all-time favourite characters to life.

This isn't the last time we'll hear the Boogie song 💚🖤💚

[mcyt-trios]

PROPAGANDA:

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss:

Listen to me closely. There is no other alliance on the whole Traffic series as based as them. They did EXACTLY what they set out to do. Did they Gaslight? Oh fuck yeah. Did they Gatekeep? You better believe it. Did they Girlboss??? By the good grace of god they did!!!!!!! They are simultaneously the blueprint for every trio of mean girls in a 2000s high school movie and the most genuinely devoted alliance on the whole server. They trust and respect and love each other in ways beyond mortal comprehension. Vote them please I'm begging you.

They were an absolute powerhouse! Also also, Cleo finding herself a group of people who were properly loyal to her after being betrayed for the healing arc. Scott telling them he was the boogieman and refusing to kill even if it meant going red. They're just so hhhhhh

cleo is gaslight (setting things on fire), scott is gatekeep (protecting the base), and pearl is girlboss (girlbossing).

Quite possibly the most ride or die alliance of Last Life. Consistently sharing lives, helping each other get boogey kills, refusing to hurt each other… they were just such a feel good team up for the entire series :] and then they kicked Pearl out in double life :]

Listen they are the EPITOME of ride or die. They love each other so much during that time. Do you hear me. Dear God they are the most precious

Best faction on Last Life. Set the template for pretty much everything Scott and Cleo do together, and set us up for 5AM Pearl.

Prince Trio:

Me when they're princes and children of gods (said gods all being siblings. Making them all cousins) They all need very big hugs. Sherbert's dad (God of Creation) is trapped in Purgatory, and they tried to get them out at the end of season 2 and it failed (because Sherbert got. A possible god following them around (metaphorically) and changing things they touch sometimes-) because instead of it bring back their dad it brought back a person they killed. (Also happens to share their mortal mother with Rae) Rae's godly mother (Goddess of the Mind) sucks and corrupted multiple of their friends. (One of which was Sherbert.) and he's also the vessel for said mother, and got some silly mind powers because of it. Athena is literally a child created for being the vessel of one of their parents, who is also the God of destruction, which by proxy makes him the vessel of destruction and that is an awesome title-

[the-local-pineapple]

MORE OF MY INKTOBER PROMPTLIST ARTTTT

Today's prompt was feather :DD

So have Scar with Grian's feather as earring!

And yesterdays since I couldn't post it on here since my acc was gone:

Last life Mumbo when he learned he was the boogeyman (not to be confused with boogieman) that session!

[jamsofdeath0]

The whole thing with the Canary Curse was always that "The first person dies and then all hell breaks loose. Chaos and carnage left and right." Arguably no series has had this happen more swiftly than Secret Life. Lizzie dies and the SAME session both a wither and warden are summoned to duel in the center of the map. Like HOLY SHIT. But the weird thing is 3/4 red names died. This means NEXT session is gonna be relatively peaceful. Normally when people start dropping they ALL follow suit but despite multiple people being dead dead most of the server is yellow or green.

The tasks really have Secret Life deviating from the sort of psuedo formula that was developing by virtue of having the same people doing a similar series multiple times. Reds can't just kill, so they also haven't been dragging folks down with em. Yellow and Greens as well can't just do as they've done before because they have to spend a good majority of their episode trying to do some weird thing. Hard to do normal Minecraft or even just Traffic Life things when you have to go play tag, or FIGURE OUT what your weird thing even is.

Tasks might be the BEST gimmick they've come up with. It's definitely up there with boogieman at least with how much it changes the game. But whereas boogieman really only changed the SOCIAL game, tasks change EVERYTHING. Boogieman was effectively a direct upgrade from 3rd Life. They did an "experimental hardcore series" and after seeing what people liked most about it added a little spin. Tasks aren't that. They're not a twist, they're a WHOLE DIFFERENT THING. Last Life is 3rd life but more. Secret Life is 3rd life but different.