Avatar of Atrophy

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8 yrs ago
Current Off Hiatus?
9 yrs ago
On Hiatus
9 yrs ago
"Mecha Cowboys" has less than a thousand hits on Google. I've never been more upset.
10 yrs ago
RP Concept: "Screw just the plans, we're stealing the Death Star and taking that baby for a joyride!"
5 likes
10 yrs ago
The VeggieTales theme song has been stuck in my head for at least three days now. Can't decide if it a good or bad thing yet.
6 likes

Bio

Writer of schlock dressed up in some decent clothes.

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@Atrophy

TOGETHER, DEXTER AND PENNY GONNA MAKE IT ALRIGHT.

WHAT A DAY. WHAT A LOVELY DAY.


HELL YEAH, WE SPORK NOW BABY!
I'd like to change my abstraction please
powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Spoon_Man…


If that's the case, I'm definitely making one of my characters have this abstraction. Then we can finally settle the silverware wars for real.


The Campsite - Male Cabins.


Rita knew that Martin was trying to calm her down and trying to be nice. It didn’t help, obviously, her heart was still racing and her body was still shaking, but she still felt obligated to thank him. To say something nice in return, to pretend that she believed his empty promises so that the others and him wouldn’t worry about her. Her lips parted with a crack, and a voice came out.

“Everything is going to be okay,” she repeated slowly to herself; her eyes casting a look of irritation towards Martin. Her tone was uncommonly bitter. “I knew you were a loser, but I didn’t take you for being a fucking idiot, too.”

Her eyes grew wide and darted back and forth as she covered her mouth with a hand. She had not intended to say something like that; it had just slipped out. Clearly, the pressure must’ve been getting to her, cracking through and poisoning her filter. She forced an apologetic look onto her face and, slowly, as if she was almost fighting to get the words out, tried to set things right.

“I’m...sorry,” she said. Her voice was strained and forced, not unlike that of someone who had been crying, but to her it felt different. Heavier, if that was possible. “I, uh, I didn’t mean it.”

"Hey guys, can ya'll give me a hand?"

Anything to get away from this moment. Rita forced herself to stand up, catching herself against the wall to steady out her shakiness. Yet, despite her confusion on what had just occurred, her mind felt more at ease; she was still terrified, yes, but the panic attack had been kept at bay. If anything, staying next to Martin was more horrifying than getting split like a log. At least with the latter the only person who got hurt was her. Losing her one friend because...she pushed the thought away.

Lightly she stepped into the other room with slow, uncertain movement, making great effort not to look at Martin’s face, before she was on the opposite side of the bedframe from Kimberly. She gave the other girl a nod but did not say anything, worried about what else might slip out from her tightened lips. Grabbing the edge of the frame, she prepared herself to move to it wherever Kimberly was going.







The Campsite - Female Cabins.


“Oh, shit.”

The sound of Billy’s alarmed voice drew Penny to the window. Her desire to cry had been shifted into a quiet fury—she had been thinking about Scott Reese, superdouche extraordinaire, and how the kid would’ve been locked up years ago if daddy hadn’t been the one with the keys. It seemed absolutely unfair, utterly unfair, that he could have gotten away with all of his bullshit while she was hounded by the cops for the slightest infraction. She could still feel the cuffs cutting in to her the last time they had found her out at the mountain. And now, in the shadow of the mountain, Scott Reese was going on a freaking killing spree; somehow, she still felt like his dad could play it off as “boys will be boys”, the prick.

Billy turned away as the axeman split another girl in two with a shudder. He had seen how quickly Scott had moved to catch up to that girl; there was no way they would outrun him, and unless he moved away from the one road off the island there was no way they would sneak past him. His mind began churning for other possibilities—no boats on the docks, but they could possibly swim as long as there was no undead kids in the water waiting to pull them under. Staying put could also work, but with the amount of women Scott was slaying it was only a matter of time before he came to the girl’s cabins to rack up a few more kills. He ruffled his hair. Damn it, he wasn’t an ideas man, he was an opinions man. Why wasn’t anybody else trying to come up with something?

Unbeknownst to her brother, Penny was coming up with an idea. Her stomach knotted as she watched Scott butcher another girl, and her eyebrows knitted into a look of determination. She spun from the window and quickly riffled through the room for her bag, grabbing something out of it before shoving the bag to the side. She patted her leather jacket, feeling the small object in her pocket, before making her way towards the door. She stopped once she felt the handle, in part because Billy had spoken up.

“What the hell are you doing?” he said, the concern in his voice apparent.

“Probably going to get myself killed,” she said, her eyes thin.

“Are you seriously going out there?” said Billy, standing up to stop his sister.

“Better to burn out,” she muttered.

Reese was moving—shit, he had spotted other people. She threw open the door and ran after him. This was a horrible idea; damn near suicidal. But Penny would’ve killed herself anyway if she let herself become yet another bystander, yet another victim, instead of trying to stop a massacre before it became even bloodier. She couldn’t not understand how Billy could just hide and wait for it to all passby. These people here—she could now see Claire and Dexter and whomever else were with them—they weren’t her friends, she didn’t like them, but they were still people. They didn’t deserve to get killed; especially not by Scott Fucking Reese.



The Campsite - The Campfire.
@Surtr Inc@Junkmail@PharaohAtem




She wasn’t built to run—and smoking didn’t help, either—but the adrenaline coursing through her veins was enough to give her the energy she needed to bolt across the field. In her right hand she had grabbed her lighter, a little pink BIC; her left hand was holding the can of hairspray she had snatched from her bag. She’d seen enough videos of people making impromptu flamethrowers to act as pest removal in regards to wasp nests, and what was Scott Reese but one unnaturally giant, grey skinned pest? She was in striking distance now. They both were. Surely he had heard he coming now.

“Hey, dickhead!” she screamed, flicking the lighter and spraying the aerosol. One more orange light appeared that night as flames erupted from the spray, tossing themselves towards Scott’s head. Ideally he would set on fire, although she had her doubts about it. If it at least blinded him, even temporarily, it’d be long enough for the others to get away. A small victory. As she began to torch the giant, Penny felt her eyes begin to strain and focus on his arms, readying herself to dive out of the way the second he moved to swing his axe.
<Snipped quote by pokemad1>

keep talkin like that am imma be tuckin' you into bed with a kiss and a bed time story


Am I the only one whose mind swapped the T in "tuckin'" with an F?




The Campsite - Male Cabins.


This was beyond her. Plans? Rita had a plan to be spontaneous and outgoing, and Claire had shredded it. After that, she didn’t have any plans.

She didn’t even know how she ended up in this cabin, huddled against Martin with her hands pushing back her greasy hair, her heart racing a thousand miles a minute. This was the worst night of her life. She’d go back to Texas. She’d take the embarrassment. Anything, anything would’ve been better than this. She wasn’t built to cope with situations like this. Nobody was built to cope with situations like this. And and and, and the teacher! They could end up like the teacher? Split in two by some murderous monstrosity? Why would someone bring that up? Why would someone suggest that? She could feel her fingers pushing into her skull; her skull that the monster would cleave in two. This was bad, bad, bad.

She needed to calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Think straight, breath, breath, in through the nose, out through the mouths. Panic only begot more panic. Relax. The only way to survive was to relax. Don’t think about the blood—on the axe, on her sweater. Don’t think about the monster—outside, hunting. Don’t think about dying—excruciating, and alone. Don’t think at all, just breath, breath, breath. In, out, in, out, in...better. Okay, now, try and help the others think of a plan. Anything. No such thing as bad ideas. On three. One, Two…

The sound that came out of Rita’s mouth was a mouse-like squeak. She slammed her hand over her mouth and grabbed onto Martin’s arm, her nails digging into his skin. Her chest was heaving; a sweat had begun to break out on her forehead. She bite down on her hand, the pain distracting her from the world around. Ignore everything. That was the answer. Ignore everything and try to calm down. Relax. Relax. Relax. It was easy, just try to relax.

What a fucking laugh.

“Hide. Just hide,” she muttered.




Now. The Campsite - Female Cabins.

“What!?” Billy said, finally raising his voice and spinning around to confront his friends. “It was just a joke. Don’t...be...so...holy.”

It was decently far, but his vision was clear and he wasn’t nearly high enough to be hallucinating something like this. There, by the campfire, was Scott Reese, resident Chad and general buzzkill, doing what he did: ruining the night. Only it wasn’t in his typical format of getting too drunk and trying to fight people, unless he had drank something that made him transform into a goddamn Frankenstein’s monster. But really, the most disconcerting part wasn’t Scott’s display of what happened when someone took too many steroids, but the part where he was ripping an axe out of his philosophy professor’s skull.

Actually, nah, all of it was pretty fucked up.

He grabbed Suzie and Layne and pulled them inside the cabin, shutting the door and killing the lights. He motioned for them to get down, which all but Penny, who had not seen the attack, did. His sister, however, was not ready to end their argument. She stood defiantly with her hands on her hips and a sneer on her face.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.

“Penny, shut the hell up and get away from the windows,” said Billy, his normal tone replaced with one that was both alarmed and commanding. He scuttled around the floor and dropped the blinds of all of the windows; Penny, who was never used to seeing her brother be serious, realized how he wasn’t screwing around and haunched down on her heels.

“What’s happening?” she whispered.

“I think Scott Reese just fucking killed someone,” said Billy in a hushed tone.

“What?” Penny scouted over to the window and peered through the blinds. Her eyes grew wide and she pressed her back up against the wall. “Holy fucking shit, I knew that kid was nuts.”

“We should call the cops,” said Billy. Billy pulled out his cell; it lacked bars, but maybe there was still a chance the call would go through. Of course, it failed. Gotta love rural America.

“They’d just end up helping him anyway,” muttered Penny bitterly. Billy could hear what sounded like music being played; Penny’s eyes snapped to the window, but she didn’t move to look.“Now what’s happening?”

Shifting towards his sister, Billy peered through the blinds. “A girl’s trying to catch his attention.”

“And what, lead him away like the fucking Pied Piper?” said Penny through her teeth, letting her head fall back against the wall. “I hate this town.”

“We’ll wait until he passes and then make a break for it,” said Billy, keeping one eye peering out the window. “Keep low, keep quiet, stay outta the light. Get to a place where we can call the cops.”

“I hate this town, I hate this town, I hate this town,” said Penny, a mantra to try and keep herself calm as she gripped the bridge of her nose and tried not to cry.
@Surtr IncI'm sure I broke something in here somewhere.




And if anyone was wondering, the concert was great. Even if the seats were about as comfortable as sitting on a knife, the beer I got at a bar afterwards was nine dollars, and the opener was just one guy breaking a guitar while some lady played a saxophone in a way that mimicked music class on the day they give everybody recorders.
I'm gonna go see a pretentious instrumental rock band tonight so I won't be reacting to the Axe Man splitting (nudge nudge) up the campfire gang until tomorrow. Assume that Rita is probably running...so if @Surtr Inc wants to place people in situations, please have her situation be not being turned into firewood.

Also, I've been working on a dynamic sibling duo in my spare time and the sheets are almost entered into the "let's flip a coin to decide if we should completely purge this shit and start again or just pretend we're happy with this verbal schlock" phase so, uh, get pumped for more jerks.

The Campsite - Campfire.


Thanks to the combined efforts of Martin and Zoey the punch that “the librarian” had braced herself for never came. Regardless, she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Her eyes were now boring a hole in to the ground, one where she could crawl inside of and hideaway for the rest of the night. She could hear the sound of her heart thundering in her ears; even without the danger, the anxiety was still there. She felt a sharp pain in her fingers. Absentmindedly, she had been clawing at the log seat; her nails were dark and dirtied with splinters and blood. She shifted in her seat and tucked her hand underneath her thigh, her “I love NY” bracelet glaring up at her. She bit her lip. Should’ve gone there. What kind of idiot runs away to Montana of all places?

Tuyen’s voice pulled her out of her mind. She actually seemed concerned, which should’ve made Rita feel better. It didn’t. The tiny voice that always whispers suspicion in Rita’s ear was at it, assigning ulterior motives to mundane actions yet again. She doesn’t really care about you, she’s just trying to make herself look like a good person, it said. Typical. Her other hand was now clawing at the log. Her eyes were still burning in to the ground. The blood was still in her ears; there was a tightness in her throat. She felt sick. Martin’s voice yanked at her again, and she realized that politeness demands that she said something.

“I’m fine,” she said, the lie barely eeking out. She wasn’t, but that was what they wanted to hear, so that was what she had to say. Nobody ever wanted to hear about actual problems. Better to just pretend it’s all okay like a loveless marriage, if only for the sake of the children. Still, sometimes the children can tell when mommy and daddy are on the rocks. Gotta sell the lie. Rita paused, trying to let calm wash over her. A great lie was one that even the liar had to believe was true. She breathed. Forced a smile. Looked up. Met eyes with Tuyen.

"I liked your story," said Rita. After a pause, she added, “So is there anything else to do in this town than drink in the woods and try to ignore the smell of manure?”


That really improved the thread a bit guys, don't you think?


Doing the Lord's work.
So this means Rita and Claire are best friends for life now, right? I think I read that the right way.
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