((Previously, on SotF TV…))
She didn’t go far.
She made it clear of the scene. She made it clear of the smoke, too. Wasn’t like she needed it to suffocate, anymore. It was like… it was like what she’d studied in class. The Crucible. That part where the guy was forced to lay down, was forced to have stones laid on his chest. Could’ve… could’ve stopped, at any point, but he chose to keep putting them on himself, one at a time, one at a time, until eventually his chest caved in. It was like that, except for the part where he hadn’t been shot. And also except the part where he stabbed himself with a harpoon. And also except the part where he didn’t have a reason. He was… he’d been protecting his land, right? No matter what he said his family would lose their farm, so… so he didn’t say anything. He let himself die because he had a reason to. Something to gain. Something to say.
More than Verity had, honestly.
She was… she was by the front of the ship. By where… by where she’d come back, however many hours ago. By where she’d first come to, however many days ago. She’d lost the harpoon when she’d left it in Anthony. She’d lost Timothy’s gun… back during that first fight with Anthony. Maybe it’d fallen off the ship. Maybe she’d still been holding it when she jumped. Either way, it was just the other gun, in her pant pocket, but, like, was there really much of a point anymore? She was tired. Her legs hurt. Her chest hurt. She had to save her breaths for between each step because she couldn’t really do it autonomously anymore. Why was… why was she still walking?
Right. Because she wanted to. Because she still could. She wanted to… she wanted to…
So she took a step. Towards the railing. She’d never liked the ocean — still didn’t, honestly — but maybe there was still time. Maybe she could change her mind, at the very end.
And she took a step. For… for somebody. She was sure there was somebody in her head who cared. Who’d want her to. She didn’t need to do anything, for any of them, but… but it still didn’t take much to do this. It still didn’t take much to do somebody a solid.
So she took a step. Because she could, because she wanted to, and after however many hours, however many days, she finally knew that that was all the reason she needed.
And she took a step.
.
Whalebones
TV3 Endgame, Part 10 of 10.
-
Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
"Here's how Mandy can still win-"
The girl from Missouri shut the video.
Canada was a better place, after all.
Verity laid face down. Ivan stumbled. Olivia held herself up together.
"She's not dead. Don't act shocked when she gets up."
Ivan stepped on Verity, foot pressing against against the big girl.
The girl from Missouri shut the video.
Canada was a better place, after all.
Verity laid face down. Ivan stumbled. Olivia held herself up together.
"She's not dead. Don't act shocked when she gets up."
Ivan stepped on Verity, foot pressing against against the big girl.
-
Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
It was like her cat, at four in the morning, lying down on her chest during the middle of a dream.
It was like she was trying to absorb herself in her music, but then somebody was turning the lights on and off because her parents wouldn't give her a fucking second to notice that they'd entered her room.
She'd been in another world, for a moment, and it'd been fantastic. There were so many lights, and colours, and it was all so warm, and comfy, and fine, and she didn't have to worry about anything. She could sleep. She could just take in the vibes. She could feel happy, and there wouldn't be any risk of that being taken away.
And then somebody would force her back into consciousness. And then she'd be on Earth again.
"Mmf-"
It was like she was trying to absorb herself in her music, but then somebody was turning the lights on and off because her parents wouldn't give her a fucking second to notice that they'd entered her room.
She'd been in another world, for a moment, and it'd been fantastic. There were so many lights, and colours, and it was all so warm, and comfy, and fine, and she didn't have to worry about anything. She could sleep. She could just take in the vibes. She could feel happy, and there wouldn't be any risk of that being taken away.
And then somebody would force her back into consciousness. And then she'd be on Earth again.
"Mmf-"
-
carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
After all the screaming, the gunshots, the carnage, the cruise ship was settling back into a deafening silence.
"Not yet," she mumbled. She wanted to add but she will be, but couldn't find the words.
All three of them knew. The end was coming. That assumption hung in the air like thick, white smoke. Olivia breathed it in through her nose. She invited it into her lungs and it made her vision swirl. She almost felt like she could reach out and touch it and let it engulf her.
Ivan was still there. Looming. He bled into her lucky hoodie.
She felt dull anger. It was an old, flickering lightbulb that buzzed inside her skull. Not quite at him.
She swallowed a hard lump of words: she had everything and nothing to say.
She'd shot a man dead. But the story wasn't hers to tell. It never was. And it never would be. She didn't care. Today she was a gun and a jacket and a cute swimsuit. That was the end of it.
Once, there was another girl bleeding out on a cruise ship floor.
Olivia wanted Ivan to leave.
"Not yet," she mumbled. She wanted to add but she will be, but couldn't find the words.
All three of them knew. The end was coming. That assumption hung in the air like thick, white smoke. Olivia breathed it in through her nose. She invited it into her lungs and it made her vision swirl. She almost felt like she could reach out and touch it and let it engulf her.
Ivan was still there. Looming. He bled into her lucky hoodie.
She felt dull anger. It was an old, flickering lightbulb that buzzed inside her skull. Not quite at him.
She swallowed a hard lump of words: she had everything and nothing to say.
She'd shot a man dead. But the story wasn't hers to tell. It never was. And it never would be. She didn't care. Today she was a gun and a jacket and a cute swimsuit. That was the end of it.
Once, there was another girl bleeding out on a cruise ship floor.
Olivia wanted Ivan to leave.
The girl from Missouri started to type a message in a Discord chat, but her messaged appeared as red.
She tried to react to a post, but the screen shook and her :kyoko_mandy: disappeared into nothingness.
She bit the bottom of her lip.
She had expected to lose ties in this. This was to be expected. Fame was something that drove people apart, and that split those she had met into shattered pieces of personalities that she had never seen before. It was like a Final Destination movie, where one by one, everyone she had known from before went through a freak accident and mysteriously revealed their version of themselves.
Whether that meant telling the news about her relationship, whether that meant blocking her on Discord because she didn't post her friend's video on Twitter, or whether that meant that her dad wouldn't talk to her when she was in Canada; it was kinda all of the same thing, really. The game of fame wasn't meant to be experienced first hand. You were supposed to watch it through a screen, or read through a magazine. You weren't supposed to live it - no humans were meant to be that famous.
The once girl that had been from Missouri sighed. What was next? What was going to be their next move?
"Pass me the gun." Ivan said with shells in his pocket.
She tried to react to a post, but the screen shook and her :kyoko_mandy: disappeared into nothingness.
She bit the bottom of her lip.
She had expected to lose ties in this. This was to be expected. Fame was something that drove people apart, and that split those she had met into shattered pieces of personalities that she had never seen before. It was like a Final Destination movie, where one by one, everyone she had known from before went through a freak accident and mysteriously revealed their version of themselves.
Whether that meant telling the news about her relationship, whether that meant blocking her on Discord because she didn't post her friend's video on Twitter, or whether that meant that her dad wouldn't talk to her when she was in Canada; it was kinda all of the same thing, really. The game of fame wasn't meant to be experienced first hand. You were supposed to watch it through a screen, or read through a magazine. You weren't supposed to live it - no humans were meant to be that famous.
The once girl that had been from Missouri sighed. What was next? What was going to be their next move?
"Pass me the gun." Ivan said with shells in his pocket.
-
Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
“What-”
The corpse jutted. Rattled. The voice was muffled — as if Verity was speaking to the floor — but it was there. Audible.
“You wanna get kill credit?”
Alive.
“You wanna- pretend you fucking-”
The corpse jutted. Rattled. The voice was muffled — as if Verity was speaking to the floor — but it was there. Audible.
“You wanna get kill credit?”
Alive.
“You wanna- pretend you fucking-”
They had fell in love through a computer screen.
It was a strange thing, really. Something else that humans were never meant to experience. The once girl that had been from Missouri had questioned themselves about it. What this just love? Or was this akin to their mind afflicting themselves with a fantasy of a relationship? Was this reciprocal?
What did it mean to be in love through a medium?
Would it even make sense to someone else? To the others that had experienced it, perhaps. But to their parents and to their friends, this was completely foreign and incomprehensible. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t add up. It was akin to discovering a new number between five and six, and expecting everyone to be able to use it in a common conversation.
The once girl that had been from Missouri thought about it often. She was in Québec now. It’s not like it mattered now.
“Pretend, what? I got the five I needed.” He stared down at the broken body of a woman - no, a girl - that could have been something else than a scratch to a tally. “You can be the sixth.”
It was a strange thing, really. Something else that humans were never meant to experience. The once girl that had been from Missouri had questioned themselves about it. What this just love? Or was this akin to their mind afflicting themselves with a fantasy of a relationship? Was this reciprocal?
What did it mean to be in love through a medium?
Would it even make sense to someone else? To the others that had experienced it, perhaps. But to their parents and to their friends, this was completely foreign and incomprehensible. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t add up. It was akin to discovering a new number between five and six, and expecting everyone to be able to use it in a common conversation.
The once girl that had been from Missouri thought about it often. She was in Québec now. It’s not like it mattered now.
“Pretend, what? I got the five I needed.” He stared down at the broken body of a woman - no, a girl - that could have been something else than a scratch to a tally. “You can be the sixth.”
-
Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
“Yeah, fucking- shoot a girl who’s already dead-”
There was a cough. A splutter. From each side of Verity’s mouth was a splatter of blood.
“Fucking-”
There was a breath. Ragged, choked, but it was still there. Still trying.
“Pretend you actually did something-”
There was a cough. A splutter. From each side of Verity’s mouth was a splatter of blood.
“Fucking-”
There was a breath. Ragged, choked, but it was still there. Still trying.
“Pretend you actually did something-”
-
carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
"...leave it."
She moved her head from side to side. Shook it "no" in slow-mo, barely even noticeable.
A selfish wish filled up her throat.
she's already
get out
i don't
i miss
they're gone
so is
She clutched the gun like a security blanket.
She moved her head from side to side. Shook it "no" in slow-mo, barely even noticeable.
A selfish wish filled up her throat.
she's already
get out
i don't
i miss
they're gone
so is
She clutched the gun like a security blanket.
Québec was a strange place.
People spoke in French, but a lot of them understood English, especially since they were at the edge of the border. If anything, the fact that they spoke English made them a local celebrity. The three of them - well, two of them plus someone that would come later - were here on vacation. Six months, maximum. They had a place lined up. It was nice. A house with four bedrooms, three bathrooms, one large kitchen connected to the dining room, and a yard behind them. That last part had been the most important part.
Since this was a volunteering trip, actually.
Not just vacation. They'd raise rescue dogs. They had got into an association that had enjoyed the spotlight that Amanda had brought to them. Nobody knew that she was going to be, potentially, long term. And that was fine. That made her feel good.
It made her feel she some control over her life, especially when people made drama video about her on YouTube. It was the cost of being the girl that dated a SOTF-TV victim.
"Pretend? I did something. Unlike you. You lost. You're losing. You didn't get the Ten Kill Release. You're bleeding out, and you're dying. You did nothing. Your entire life is culminating to being a checklist on an Excel spreadsheet. You're an embarrassing excuse of a woman." He pressed his foot against her rib cage, pushing. Hard. "Pass me the fucking gun, Olivia."
People spoke in French, but a lot of them understood English, especially since they were at the edge of the border. If anything, the fact that they spoke English made them a local celebrity. The three of them - well, two of them plus someone that would come later - were here on vacation. Six months, maximum. They had a place lined up. It was nice. A house with four bedrooms, three bathrooms, one large kitchen connected to the dining room, and a yard behind them. That last part had been the most important part.
Since this was a volunteering trip, actually.
Not just vacation. They'd raise rescue dogs. They had got into an association that had enjoyed the spotlight that Amanda had brought to them. Nobody knew that she was going to be, potentially, long term. And that was fine. That made her feel good.
It made her feel she some control over her life, especially when people made drama video about her on YouTube. It was the cost of being the girl that dated a SOTF-TV victim.
"Pretend? I did something. Unlike you. You lost. You're losing. You didn't get the Ten Kill Release. You're bleeding out, and you're dying. You did nothing. Your entire life is culminating to being a checklist on an Excel spreadsheet. You're an embarrassing excuse of a woman." He pressed his foot against her rib cage, pushing. Hard. "Pass me the fucking gun, Olivia."
-
Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
Oh.
Oh.
So this is what she’d been brought back for. So she could listen to Ivan prattle on about how he was the greatest SotF player of alllllllllll tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime. How she was a loser. A Yeti. A bigfoot. How she was overweight. How she couldn’t ever get rid of any of her pimples. How she smelled. How she had facial hair. All because she’d bumped into him on her way from the music rooms. All because she was there, and he was mad, and he wanted to let her know that. All because she dared to share the same physical space as Ivan. The Adonis of Garden Grove. The guy who knew so much stupid trivia like that fucking meant something.
She’d thought this game was meant to change people. It hadn’t changed Ivan. She’d… she’d done so much. She’d found so many people, and she’d found out how much they mattered to her. She’d found herself, in the ocean, holding on to a ladder, and she’d made a choice to keep going. Because, in the end, Verity had wanted to. She wanted to live. She wanted to keep those memories. She wanted to keep being her. She wanted to do something for herself.
And this was what she got. All she actually did was shift who got kill credit. All she’d be was a dot point next to somebody else’s name. She’d die, here, and Ivan would still be the shithead who’d made her feel like dirt all because she deigned to scuff his shirt. He hadn’t changed.
He hadn’t been challenged.
And he hadn’t done anything.
“Can you at least turn me over?”
Oh.
So this is what she’d been brought back for. So she could listen to Ivan prattle on about how he was the greatest SotF player of alllllllllll tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime. How she was a loser. A Yeti. A bigfoot. How she was overweight. How she couldn’t ever get rid of any of her pimples. How she smelled. How she had facial hair. All because she’d bumped into him on her way from the music rooms. All because she was there, and he was mad, and he wanted to let her know that. All because she dared to share the same physical space as Ivan. The Adonis of Garden Grove. The guy who knew so much stupid trivia like that fucking meant something.
She’d thought this game was meant to change people. It hadn’t changed Ivan. She’d… she’d done so much. She’d found so many people, and she’d found out how much they mattered to her. She’d found herself, in the ocean, holding on to a ladder, and she’d made a choice to keep going. Because, in the end, Verity had wanted to. She wanted to live. She wanted to keep those memories. She wanted to keep being her. She wanted to do something for herself.
And this was what she got. All she actually did was shift who got kill credit. All she’d be was a dot point next to somebody else’s name. She’d die, here, and Ivan would still be the shithead who’d made her feel like dirt all because she deigned to scuff his shirt. He hadn’t changed.
He hadn’t been challenged.
And he hadn’t done anything.
“Can you at least turn me over?”
-
Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
“I-"
-
Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
"I wanna see the stars.”
Amanda had settled comfortable in her bedroom. She laid in her bed, her laptop warming her up her stomach. It was the middle of Winter in Stanstead, so the warmth was more than appreciated.
Stanstead was known as the Three Villages by the residents. It was the combination of Stanstead Plain founded in 1796, Rock Island founded in 1798, and Beebe Plain also founded in 1798. Amanda's basic understanding was that the three towns - and probably more - were incorporated, but they had been cooped together by the Canadian government to make an official border crossing town. It had like 2000 inhabitants, half of them only spoke English and the other half only spoke French. There were only a handful of people capable of speaking both languages, being able to put themselves in the middle of what seemed to be a friendly rivalry.
Both side of the border were together, and Amanda lived on the American side of it. Something about her vacation visa experiment but falling in love with the place, and the fact that her roommates had actually enjoyed living there, quietly. Amanda didn't really feel like she needed more than that as a reason. If her friends, well, more than friends, enjoyed this place, and she did too, what was the point of going back to live with her parents?
Dog fostering and training wasn't easy by any mean, but Amanda enjoyed it. She drove around, both in Canada and in America, collecting vulnerable animals and nursed them back to health back at her home. Amanda had been the designated driver due to obvious reasons: she liked to drive, she liked leaving the couple alone, and she enjoyed listening to SOTF-TV podcast discussing about her past relationship with Ivan Rodriguez.
Amanda refused to be caught listening to that.
"Shut up, piggy." He kicked her again. "You killed Keegan. I'm taking back what's mine."
Stanstead was known as the Three Villages by the residents. It was the combination of Stanstead Plain founded in 1796, Rock Island founded in 1798, and Beebe Plain also founded in 1798. Amanda's basic understanding was that the three towns - and probably more - were incorporated, but they had been cooped together by the Canadian government to make an official border crossing town. It had like 2000 inhabitants, half of them only spoke English and the other half only spoke French. There were only a handful of people capable of speaking both languages, being able to put themselves in the middle of what seemed to be a friendly rivalry.
Both side of the border were together, and Amanda lived on the American side of it. Something about her vacation visa experiment but falling in love with the place, and the fact that her roommates had actually enjoyed living there, quietly. Amanda didn't really feel like she needed more than that as a reason. If her friends, well, more than friends, enjoyed this place, and she did too, what was the point of going back to live with her parents?
Dog fostering and training wasn't easy by any mean, but Amanda enjoyed it. She drove around, both in Canada and in America, collecting vulnerable animals and nursed them back to health back at her home. Amanda had been the designated driver due to obvious reasons: she liked to drive, she liked leaving the couple alone, and she enjoyed listening to SOTF-TV podcast discussing about her past relationship with Ivan Rodriguez.
Amanda refused to be caught listening to that.
"Shut up, piggy." He kicked her again. "You killed Keegan. I'm taking back what's mine."
-
carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
They weren't listening. No one was. Once again, Olivia's life intersected with a pair of stories that were not her own, her little pinball-self bouncing between two random flippers on the gameboard of life. A lacrosse ball, passed between two teams. No one ever bothered to ask the ball anything. It was just the ball, the prop, the thing that propels somebody else to a grand victory.
RJ and Lucia didn't die for this childish bullshit.
"Ivan!" she snapped. "Give it a fucking rest, will you?"
Hard to believe that after all of this, it was her own teammate enduring the brunt of her wrath.
Tch. Teammate. They'd fought well enough together, that was one thing. But if SOTF could make Anthony Golden a madman, make Verity into this odd mix of murderess and pitiful mess, why couldn't it make Ivan anything but the big meatheaded bully he'd always been? Hadn't he learned anything from this? Hadn't he gained — hadn't he lost — hadn't he fought — hadn't he fled — hadn't he played and been played, the way they all had?
The illusory Holly was twittering in her ear again.
Olivia grit her teeth and flipped the dying girl, pretending she was somebody else.
RJ and Lucia didn't die for this childish bullshit.
"Ivan!" she snapped. "Give it a fucking rest, will you?"
Hard to believe that after all of this, it was her own teammate enduring the brunt of her wrath.
Tch. Teammate. They'd fought well enough together, that was one thing. But if SOTF could make Anthony Golden a madman, make Verity into this odd mix of murderess and pitiful mess, why couldn't it make Ivan anything but the big meatheaded bully he'd always been? Hadn't he learned anything from this? Hadn't he gained — hadn't he lost — hadn't he fought — hadn't he fled — hadn't he played and been played, the way they all had?
The illusory Holly was twittering in her ear again.
Olivia grit her teeth and flipped the dying girl, pretending she was somebody else.