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Week Eight - This will thread will contain a week's worth of writing exercises to be completed each day. I'm going to award W.P. (writing points~) for completed assignments, and to give myself less math this time, it's 1 W.P. per regular assignment, 5 per bonus. If I make a super bonus assignment, I will tell you what it's worth individually. (Please bear in mind that I will not award points / will deduct points for incomplete / improperly completed assignments and I cannot award points past the days of the week in question. Thank you.)

You may do as many or as few as you please. Anyone is allowed to join up at any time, but please let me know in a PM if you want to be added to our tag list because only people on the tag list will be awarded points. Also, you may leave the exercises at any time. Please tell me if you wish to be removed, though. I will not remove you unless you request it.

Our goal here: Fun, encouragement of young and old writers, and self-improvement. :D

ONE IMPORTANT RULE: PLEASE DO NOT REPLY TO ANY OTHER WRITER'S POST. I created a feedback thread, please use it: Link! My insistence on this is to ensure that other writers can edit as needed, and while it is possible to unlock posts, it's best not to create any more work for our admins / mods than necessary. Thank you for your cooperation. =) 

Monday! "Ford and Chris" Week! Because neither of you gave me enough to get your own week.
Make a fording post. (If you don't know what that is, it's a long, rambling, often bizarre story that comes to a often seemingly random conclusion.) Bonus: After making your insane rant, try to make a logical explanation for it. Good luck!

@Will11 , @TheNewIAP , @Ogre11 , @Kwism1127 , @ecoLyte , @Beagle , @Ford , @betaband , @Claw2k11 , @SonicTurboTurtle , @DerpBacon , @Romulus , @galobtter , @Swiftstryker , @BenCrucifix , @31TeV , @MadHattersDaughter , @At_Your_Throat , @Tim36D , @Jibble , @NightBirdBlue , @3173v3 , @Vampwolfie , @Spacecats , @Shinobi , @Morgan_R , @TacocaT , @Chris113022 , @jamescoker1226

Now this is my strength. *Cracks knuckles.*

Today was like any day for me. I woke up, layed an egg, fertilized it, then waited for it to hatch before picking up the little chick waiting inside and violently shaking it until its brains were just as scrambled as the rest of it will be in a few minutes time. Only then I would mash it up with a spork (but still keeping it alive) so then it could witness as I-. Okay, nevermind, long story short: I beat it up, pissed on it, cooked it, the ate it, then pissed on it again. After breakfast, I then went on with the rest of my daily routine consisting of: Going to the park to eat leftover bread crumbs, playing hide and go rape with JayJay (my cat), getting my hand stuck on something stupid like a feminist, rip my arm off, grow a new one, complete my daily DNA exchange with a starfish, listen to a half hour lecture about personal space and equality from that feminist from earlier. etc.

 So anyways, at the last phase of my day (feeding JayJay's finger puppets beef jerky resulting in him dying of a heart attack). I heard a knock on the door. I answer it and see borsch that is flying on itself with its toe tied to its heel. I stare at it for a moment and it puts shelf flavored oven mitts on me and an apron that reads: Vote for Harper so he may rank, a tourney, beaurocracydemocratspoliticalfishberryofblueohyouknowwhatalsoisbluetheoceanandblueberriesandholyshitimtakingthisassignmenttoofararenti?

Oh, this'll be fun... *ahem*

One Saturday afternoon, I woke up to see a bird with the face of Louis Armstrong standing on my bed. We began singing "A Wonderful World" for a few moments before I punched the bird in the face and threw it in a pot; it was almost Thanksgiving after all, and I still needed a turkey. So, after throwing the bird in the pot, I locked it in the fridge before walking into the bathroom to relieve my bladder. Little did I know, there was some construction going on and the bathroom had been torn from the wall. So, considering I lived on the top floor of the hotel, I obviously fell to my demise.

But wait! I managed to survive! How, you ask? With a little something I like to call... A JETPACK! I flew back into my hotel room and through the wall. After going through several rooms (some of which I don't want to talk about), I ended up on the other side of the hotel and flew to the sky. I ended up in SPAAAAAAAAAAAAACE and found a group of aliens flying around in a UFO, blaring a generic pop song from the early 2000s. Being the avid hater of pop music that I am, I flew towards the aliens' UFO and then abandoned the jetpack. It blew up the UFO, and I fell to my demise again. But I managed to survive because... I dunno, fuckin' Han Solo saved me.

TL;DR: The Catcher and the Rye was decent.

I can't do this....;-;

But it's easy. xD Just rant as nonsensically as possible in narrative form, and give us a conclusion (a bit like a moral) that seems utterly random.

@Ford ... You're telling me you don't know how to do something that you suggested, which was named after you on the grounds that you do this sort of thing all the time? xD

xD Lazy brat, no excuses! It was your idea. Post and face your shame of being outdone like a man.

:P I was considering it. I will if you post yours first. :D

Wait, why is it 'Ford AND Chris' week? XD

Because some of the exercises for this week are from you.

... I suggested an exercise?

Actually, you suggested themes, but exercises were made as a result.

"Barely rant"? You? BS. You've ranted at me more times than literally anyone else has in my entire life. I have, at this points, several hundred messages from you. x_x Most of them insanely long posts about guns, games that involve guns, stories that involve guns, and your life in general.

So I remember the one time Charles Darwin wouldn't give me a cookie because he for some reason had no hands. He told me to go away and that he had no jelly but I objected by saying that he had a whole block of cheese in his ice chest. Of course he got mad and was raging at me as I set his house on fire. I sneakily gave him a red penguin and destroyed his ice chest. After that I stumbled across this guy named Kiel and he told me to write something about the company Ford. So here I am typing a paragraph without decent punctuation and now I feel bad for not writing something decent but hey, Ford is a car company and they don't sell cookies either so they're just big fat car nerds. Then I logged on to "FIERY FLURRY HHSIAHDIASHIDS" and told all my jelly friends about the time I met Charles Darwin. My jelly friends screamed at me to eat some hair and I of course objected again to tell them that their cheese has spoiled and they should probably just take away its allowance.

TL;dr: Milk products hate oatmeal.

A few weeks ago, I freaked out hard after drinking about a quart of black coffee. I was trying to finish a take home test, three chapters of homework, and a ten-page paper my sadistic Management professor from Ukraine assigned to me before she left for Barcelona. I failed my test and saw no way to finish my paper in time, so I panicked, drove 30 miles to my old community college, drove to my mom's house, got into a screaming match with her, punched a dent in my grandfather's trailer, drove another 20 miles, got in a screaming match with my dad, fled to his parents' house and fell asleep in front of my laptop.

tl;dr? Chocolate from Amsterdam is the shit.

So today I was fucking around with derivatives like no one else's fucking business, cuz fuck it, but then there's this real skinny guy who sits on the other side of class that likes to visit and chill out with the guys next to me, so I'm like " 'Kay, that's just fine," and so I talking with them and stuff and then he realized I was trying to become a "thing" with his cousin.  No wonder he was looking at me funny.

Right then and there, our professor looked at me and him, and then at this chick that sat right next to me, and then he takes a Daedric sword and cuts his wrist, and glares at me and the chick, but smiles at the skinny guy.  Next thing I know, I'm looking at a bruise on this skinny guy's temple, and it hasn't gone away in about like...I don't know, forever?

And so the bruise swells and becomes purple, and it bursts into grape juice (it certainly didn't taste like it) all over the class, and I'm trying to plug it up with my brand-spanking-new textbook, y'know? Cuz, like I didn't care for the textbook conditions over some guy's life, and if I get in good with him, then I get in good with her, know what I'm saying?

So while I'm mashing his face trying to contain this shitstorm geyser, the teach's chin points at the chick, and the chick faceplants into this book that she clearly wasn't supposed to be annotating.  Sam Harris's "Free Will" was valued around 11 USD, but take it from the guy who leafed through it all, it's like he's trying to take credit for Freud's shit.  When she did faceplant, Division Leader Euclid (only Malk will know) popped out and gave everyone a very violent bird-flip and went on to take on an oversized Sheogorath (relative to the figurine-sized Euclid) with that saber Three Rings had in the game files, but never bothered to send out.  They went on and duked it out, and teach simply pointed his chin and raised his eyelids and eyebrows, as if taking off his eyes would kill him instantly.  It probably would, considering how epic the fight was between the space alien and the space alien.

Also :

Sheogorath eventually bandaged up the skinny dude's wounds (even if it WAS just a flesh wound), and so we decided to trespass Area 51.  We almost got quickscoped by a couple guys, but luckily the teacher was there and he deflected them all with his chin, so I guess everything worked out in the end when we took the fifth-gen F35s out for a ride.

TL;DR Don't sit on the edge of a fighter jet's wing during takeoff.

In retrospect, I think I've just made my own genre of posts.

So, I was talking to my boyfriend on the phone the other day. It was one of those old fashion land lines, with the curly cord connecting the phone and the stand. Round and round my finger went, curling and uncurling the curly cords (try saying that 3 times fast!) when the butler brought me my daily bowl of strawberry pudding with whipcream and a cherry on top. I thanked him, and started eating, until much to my horror, I saw he served with a spork! In my surprise, I jerked on the phone cord, which yanked it out of the wall, which sparked, and the spark landed on the beautiful carpet below.

Within moments it was ablaze, the flames reaching higher and higher. Mesmerized, I watched them. They reached out, curled and danced around my toes, my ankles, my legs. And I joined them, dancing in the flames, waltzing. Gleefully, the flames danced with me, burning nothing. 

Then the butler yelled, and I frowned, looking down. Everything was charred and black. The beautiful carpet, the couch I was sitting on, my legs, my thighs, my torso. Then I screamed, so shrilly they must've heard it a mile away, closing my eyes and wishing it wasn't happening. 

When I opened them again, I was sitting on the couch with no fire, no burns, nothin'. Shrugging, I went back to eating my stawberry pudding with a spoon while talking with my boyfriend.

Teal deer; Flames are great at waltzing.

So the other day I was taking my cat for a walk, but then it suddenly started raining dogs! My cat turned into a poodle, so I left him on the floor for people to step in. But this upset a nearby old lady who told me off for littering, but fortunately a large chihuahua landed on her head so she stopped talking.

I walked backwards and stepped in my poodle cat, and so my feet got all wet with the tears of my grandparents. So I went to their house and wiped my shoes clean on a handkerchief. But the old sofa started attacking me with dusty old people smell so I had to hide behind the piano and wait for the grizzly bear to save me.

Then I went home and slept for 57 hours straight.

tl;dr don't drink Mongolian beer.

Tuesday! Place a fictional character, any fictional character, in a non-fiction setting and write scene from their perspective. Bonus: Now try putting a historical, real person in a fictional setting and doing the same.

@Will11 , @TheNewIAP , @Ogre11 , @Kwism1127 , @ecoLyte , @Beagle , @Ford , @betaband , @Claw2k11 , @SonicTurboTurtle , @DerpBacon , @Romulus , @galobtter , @Swiftstryker , @BenCrucifix , @31TeV , @MadHattersDaughter , @At_Your_Throat , @Tim36D , @Jibble , @NightBirdBlue , @3173v3 , @Vampwolfie , @Spacecats , @Shinobi , @Morgan_R , @TacocaT , @Chris113022 , @jamescoker1226

Percy Jackson (What, Greek myths rock!) stood in what seemed like a long-time-ago Texas. Nothing but green fields surrounded him and he felt faint about being too far away from the sea. He inched his hands toward Riptide but finally relaxed when a cattle rancher approached him. Little did he know that he carried a handgun in his back pocket.

"What'cha doin' here, son?" The cattle rancher asked. "There ain't no city fer miles around."

Percy cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, sir, but it seems that I have lost my way home. How much time does it take to get to Long Island from here?"

The cattle rancher laughed. "It'll take ya at least two weeks or more to get from here to New York, son; where are yer parents."

"Yeah, about that," Percy began to say, but suddenly, a large cloud of brown began approaching the land. The cattle rancher shouted as the cloud whirled closer.

"Gosh darn it, the people have been talkin' about a giant dirt cloud fer weeks? What was I thinking?"

Then suddenly, both men with swallowed in the storm.

Bonus:

George Washington blinked. Where was he....? He stood up to reveal a bread ground. He looked up to the sky, and it began to rain grape soda. "What in tarnation...?"

"Welcome to the Freakzone, George Washington. We've been waiting for you to find us."

And he fainted on the spot.

Rand Al'Thor woke up, laying on a soft bed. Sitting up, he looked around the room, frowning. This wasn't at all familiar. Something felt off. Instinctively he cast out emotion, and tried to embrace the One Power....but it wasn't there. Panicking, he got up and realized just how small his room was. Claustrophobic, he hurried to the window, sighing as he gazed out before staring in astonishment. 

There were oddly shaped metal boxes that moved on black wheels, seemingly all on their own. Houses were tall, soaring high in the skies and of completely foreign design. No kids were out playing either. Quickly, he got out of the room and down the stairs with his cloak billowing out behind him. What he saw astounded him. There were all sorts of metal contraptions, a box that played moving pictures while a pair of kids stared into it, paintings that looked so real, a bright light in the ceiling that looked like neither a lamp or a candle.

The kids were oblivious to him, continuing staring at that thing as if their life depended on it. He started walking towards them, when a woman came out of a hall and screamed, practically flying towards an odd little thing. She pushed on it in a certain place, and a small area glowed, and the number '9'. Then she pushed it again, and the glow changed to say '99'. Desperately, he tried to grab onto the One Power, but it still evaded him. How could it evade him, while working just fine for this woman? Finally she pushed on the thing again, in a different place. Now the glow said '991', and an odd sound came from it.

Well, that night ended with him unconscious in a sanitarium. 

Wednesday! - Select three members of CYS and write about how you believe they look and what their occupations are. Bonus: Bump that number up to six, and for the sake of brownie points, have one of them be me. :P

@Will11 , @TheNewIAP , @Ogre11 , @Kwism1127 , @ecoLyte , @Beagle , @Ford , @betaband , @Claw2k11 , @SonicTurboTurtle , @DerpBacon , @Romulus , @galobtter , @Swiftstryker , @BenCrucifix , @31TeV , @MadHattersDaughter , @At_Your_Throat , @Tim36D , @Jibble , @NightBirdBlue , @3173v3 , @Vampwolfie , @Spacecats , @Shinobi , @Morgan_R , @TacocaT , @Chris113022 , @jamescoker1226

@At_Your_Throat - xD Unknown profession? Kind of a cop-out... use your imagination! :D (Hobo's a profession, right?)

Oh, gawd. Okay. 

DerpBacon- tall male, dark hair, dark eyes, spiked hair (???), occupation: student

GMB13carat: sandy blonde hair, slightly sideswept, medium height, male, occupation: Target cashier (what? It's just the way he posts :P)

Claw2k11- tall male, dark hair, brighter colored eyes, slightly spiked hair, occupation: Unknown 

Nobody knew much about Kiel, aside from his fascination with dead babies and Japanese culture. However, these things alone gave great hint to the truth. Kiel had only recently emerged from the Führer's personal cryo-stasis chamber when he started his account on CYS. He had great difficulty shrugging the mannerisms from his former life, often combing his dark brown hair in the style he wore during the war and letting the name Brandt slip out in conversation. It hardly mattered, though, as everyone thought him dead, discounting his ease in procuring a body double to stand trial for his misdeeds.

The man known as ItAintPretty tried his best to hide his true self, a man who had been torn down numerous times, driven into the deepest caverns of Zion National Park. His occasional posts on CYS mentioned little of his efforts to fight off the ghouls and botanic abominations that had invaded his home. While he had never been horribly sociable on the site, the frequency of his visits became less and less as he had to devote more of his time to the pack of feral children he had adopted.

Delta44 started his CYS account shortly after getting his leg maimed by a crocodile in the Northern Territory of Australia. When his tourguide service failed to get off the ground, he largely abandoned his hick bushman persona, cutting his nappy blond hair, adopting a more "proper" manner of speech, and signing on with a mercenary firm to begin a new career as a sharpshooter.

Jamey Coke - I imagine him around 5"6', dark tan, slightly long hair for a guy that's bronze coloured hair, clean-shaven, average width with an awkward stance while often fidgeting, dark brown eyes, and still recently been certified as an adult. Collage student.

Nerraf Leik - I image Kiel as a bit taller than James, about 5"8'. (do pictures count? I picture is worth a thousand words...) 

Mellisa -  

Demon wolf - 

BGM13 - *looks at location stat, thinks of a tapeworm or something*  

Bradin - A 29 year old Hispanic guy with an English accent, a long braid down his back, a tophat, and living in his mothers basement. (no clue, at all, whatsoever.)

Thursday! - Sci-fi with a twist courtesy of Chris. Take a common sci-fi setting / plot, but give it a twist, and write the first page of that story. Bonus: Write the last paragraph as well.

@Will11 , @TheNewIAP , @Ogre11 , @Kwism1127 , @ecoLyte , @Beagle , @Ford , @betaband , @Claw2k11 , @SonicTurboTurtle , @DerpBacon , @Romulus , @galobtter , @Swiftstryker , @BenCrucifix , @31TeV , @MadHattersDaughter , @At_Your_Throat , @Tim36D , @Jibble , @NightBirdBlue , @3173v3 , @Vampwolfie , @Spacecats , @Shinobi , @Morgan_R , @TacocaT , @Chris113022 , @jamescoker1226

(Y'all do realize I specifically said "how you believe" those people look, right? And their occupations, granted. :P I did not say "make accusations of cryo-nazis or insinuations about foot hair. xD While funny assholes, (Jk. Maybe.)  it doesn't exactly fit, but I'm accepting those entries anyway because one of them is from Ford, who suggested that exercise, so I'm gonna just say I interpreted his request wrong. Granted, a "roast" week woulda been fun.)

You suggested three or four, I think, lol. I'd have to check my notes and I'm not going to right now because reasons.

A "bravery" week? Hm. I'll think about it.

How can you know what I believe? I could very well believe that you were Hitler's personal physician and head of Germany's forced euthanasia program (only Hitler would appoint the same person to those two posts, lol) who murdered him (or perhaps just injected him besides the usual meth and bird shit, to sedate him and leave him easy prey to the allied forces) and hid in the stasis chamber he prepared as a contingency.

xD My bad. I'm not sure why, but for a moment there, I assumed you were at least moderately sane.

Yeah, yeah, you and your silly assumptions.

By the way, is "decapitative" a word?

Gee, did you not even feel the need to capitalize that response?

But then what of terms such as "post-decapitative ischemia"?

I swear, sometimes Biologists scare the living Hell out of me.

Lol...

Shit. I didn't mean that as a pun.

Though, I can kinda imagine a 9th grader making a presentation for his biology class called "the living Hell: observing the common Hell through its development and life stages".

What a Twist! The Book With Seven Motion Picture Adaptations That All Suck

"Oh no," cried the young Martian, "the humans are attacking!" Indeed, their giant arachnid-like vehicles landed on the surface of Mars and continued to move closer to town. The Martian military moved to the border to defend from the human menace, thinking that they could stop the ships and save Mars, but they didn't know about the HUMAN'S LASER GUNS! The beams cut through seventeen soldiers and a bunch of buildings before the Martians could even fire a shot! By now, the humans were in town, and with every step the legs of their ships impaled a car or an innocent bystander. What on Mars could stop them!?

Bonus: At last, Ingot Flimn, the regular foot soldier turned hero, killed the last humans with his chlorine gun, which just so happened to be poisonous to humans where as it was a beverage all over Mars. A ton of hot Martian chicks with three breasts came up to him, and he got laid a bunch of times. "That blowed!" Shouted a man in the theater. "Why make a movie about Earth and Mars on Goddamn Venus?!"
The End

Aw... I wish I had a week... Damn, I have been so busy. Welp, time to try this out.

It's come. The end of days. They're everywhere. I tried to warn them, I tried, damnit! I showed them the reading, the strange anomalies, but they wouldn't listen. At first, they thought I was joking. When they realized I was serious, they thought I was crazy. They almost locked me up, but then those things came. I was right. But it was too late.

The Memes had invaded Earth.

Bonus:

I did it. They're dead, They're all dead. The Ultimate Meme Destroyer took most of them out. I killed the last one, I did it.

But at what cost?

To beat the greatest enemy known to mankind, I had to become one of them myself. I'm not human anymore. I've become a Meme. I've eaten the chip and have become them. I've inhaled the plant and gained immense knowledge. I've drank the nectar and have gained unstoppable power.

But at what cost?

Everyone wants to kill me. My own government put me on the blacklist. So now I've gone rogue. Using my powers for their purpose. To kill.

I'm the best assassin money could buy.

I am the fear in everyone's dreams.

I am the monster in the closet or under the bed.

I am the shadows. 

I am the MLG Noscope Swaglord.

But at what cost?

Friday! - Now take the same characters from yesterday, throw them into modern fiction, and put a twist on that genre as well. Write the first page of that story. Bonus: Write the last paragraph as well.

@Will11 , @TheNewIAP , @Ogre11 , @Kwism1127 , @ecoLyte , @Beagle , @Ford , @betaband , @Claw2k11 , @SonicTurboTurtle , @DerpBacon , @Romulus , @galobtter , @Swiftstryker , @BenCrucifix , @31TeV , @MadHattersDaughter , @At_Your_Throat , @Tim36D , @Jibble , @NightBirdBlue , @3173v3 , @Vampwolfie , @Spacecats , @Shinobi , @Morgan_R , @TacocaT , @Chris113022 , @jamescoker1226  , @bilbo

Your eighth week scores are as follows:

@SonicTurboTurtle - 1  
@Chris113022 - 7
@At_Your_Throat - 8
@jamescoker1226 - 2
@Swiftstryker - 1
@TacocaT - 3
@Ford - 6
@Ogre11 - 12
@BenCrucifix - 6
@Raven47 - 6
@Tim36D - 6

Congratulations to everyone on your participation, albeit not consistent, it was entertaining and varied.

Thanks again to 3J for awarding points and giving us a place to track them: Link