Weekly Writer's Challenge | Week #11 Addict

Weekly Writer's Challenge | Week #11 Addict


This works the same way the weekly pixel thread works, in that you’ll be given a prompt each week, and you’ll get points for creating any kind of response. You can then use 100 points from here to get a pokemon through our badge system! That and just the glory of being on the leaderboard. :smiley:

I’m very open to suggestions for the prompts, as if not I’ll just be finding basic things from google. You don’t have to follow the prompt exactly, it’s just meant as a spring board to write something.

Addict:: Everyone’s addicted to something in some shape or form. What are things you can’t go without?

Week 10

REDO: Redo any of the week’s previous themes for points! Points for EVERY prompt you do, you can do multiple and get multiple points!

Week 9

Space: Suggested by FlameChrome

Week 8

Missing You: Write about someone you miss dearly. (Or your character misses dearly)

Week 7

Witch: Traditional or different, let’s write about magic users of the darker kind (sometimes).

Week 6

Continuation: Take the week to work on your own work, be it stories already in progress or you want to work on. Feel free to put the snippets you work on below, or just post that you’ve added more to a story.

Week 5

The Stars: Take inspiration from a night sky. Or, write about a time when “the stars aligned” in your horoscope.

Week 4


Jewelry: Write about a piece of jewelry. Who does it belong to?

Week 3


Sugar: Write something so sweet, it makes your teeth hurt.

Week 2


Dragon: Envision a dragon. Do you battle him? Or is the dragon friendly? Use descriptive language.

Week 1


Dread: Write about doing something you don’t want to do.



What’s after? Once you’re out of the frying pan, there isn’t a fire, it’s just a slightly larger pan. A little more room to breath as the fire below you rages as hot as it feels like that day. Emotional turmoil leads into another day and another and another till you’ve arrived at the future, which is now the preset. Everything changes, slowly, little by little, but progress is slow. Am I even going to right way?



Nina: 10


Dragon: Envision a dragon. Do you battle him? Or is the dragon friendly? Use descriptive language.



She was sad. Her heels clacked on the ice as she walked. For a long time, she had lived with humans in her form, but had snowy lands to stretch her beautiful wings. Soon though, she had to leave. Once more she pulled the cloth from her fake flesh and molded into the form she was born as. Her claws neatly cleaned, pure white. Her scales opalescent blue, creating a blinding light ricocheting off the snowfall. In 100 years, she did what she was not supposed to. She roared. A roar of power and sorrow that shook the hibernating creatures nearby to their core. Just once more, in her dragon sanctuary.



“You’re lucky you’re not chained up with the others.”

The wyrm snorted at his handler’s statement, before breathing smoke out of its nostrils to communicate that they weren’t true dragons. With a sigh, the handler shook his head and began bathing him.

“I’ll never understand what goes on in your mind…”

The wyrm didn’t speak, even though it was very much capable of doing so. If it wanted, it could devour him in a single gulp, but that would sow just as much fear. Nay, it was better to remain silent and complacent to what was asked of him. Being obedient meant freedom, and an ability to stretch his wings. His unruly brethren did not understand, and were slain or captured as a result.

“Hey, since you’ve been so good, how about a treat?”

The wyrm gazed at its caretaker as he offered him a chicken, and devoured it with ease. It wasn’t as good as a live one, but it was still a tasty treat.

…Obedience had its perks, in hindsight.


Nina: 20
Fawful: 10



The young man sits comfortably in his chair at the cafè across from his workplace. He then takes the cookies and cream frappucino he ordered in his hands and takes a moment to appreciate it. Within its plastic container, a mix of cookies and cream, chocolate chips, milk, mocha syrup, and vanilla ice cream lay therein - a great blend of wonder that always appealed to him whenever he longed for something sweet.

He slowly sips from the familiar narrow, green signature straw of the cafè as he glances at the street from where he sits. Drinking this sweet delight always made the world outside shine more brightly and beautifully. It was as if the sugar did a little magic to how he saw the world as it made him forget the problems he encountered in his work. Not even the cold feeling from the ice oozing up to his brain could interrupt the sweet feeling he had.

Moments after, he takes the last sip from his frappuccino and he smiles as he mutters, “Thank you, Dad, for introducing me to this sweet wonder whenever we had those little opportunities to hang out.”


I’m not good at this ahah


Alice’s cough had gotten a bit more tough. Marnie pulled the covers closer up to her chin. The little girl’s feverish body was hot against her, to the point of being uncomfotable, but she wasn’t going to move anytime soon. Her daughter didn’t feel great, so Marnie would stay. She pulled Alice close to her chest.
“My head hurts…” Alice winced.
“Just a litttle longer.” Marnie pet her hair.
“You’ll be up and running around soon, my little girl. For now, let’s just sleep.” She smiled and kissed Alice on her warm forhead. Soon all will be right, but cuddling like this wasn’t so bad either. She’ll only be like this for a short while, before she’s grown. For now though, she was her little girl that she would protect.


Nina: 30
Kiyotaka_Ishimaru: 10
Fawful: 10



Jewelry: Write about a piece of jewelry. Who does it belong to?


A small silver ring. A small ring with one slot for a small simple sapphire to go in, and yet it’s protection was very powerful. The stone had been purified with all sorts of potent pieces of magical prey. Some willingly, some not. But now here it sat on her hand, waiting for the harrowing journey of hardships her, as the heir, would take. The only one left, she couldn’t feel but lonely and longing for a more luxurious life she was accustomed to. It would have to do, she thought, underestimating the full power of the ring.


She held the silver, heart-shaped locket in her hand. Its chain was made of refined silver while the locket itself had a floral design. She had protected its elegance and beauty throughout the five years it was in her possession and it looked unblemished, as though it were still brand new. The locket was a gift from her beloved before he had gone to war and promised that he would marry her once he returned. However, three years had passed and no word of him was heard anywhere. The crew which he had been a part of was still missing somewhere in Europe.

She opened the locket and gazed at her beloved’s young figure from the attached image within. Although she felt like giving up on him several times, the locket kept her hopeful, as if his image shared a warm feeling reassuring her that he was still alive.

“I wish that you’ll return soon. I really, really, miss you a lot, you know, so I hope you don’t keep me waiting forever.” She said with a wistful expression.

She was teary-eyed, but she chose not to cry because her beloved would have wanted her to be happy, so she managed a small smile at his face, remaining positive that her wish that he would return would be granted.

“How long would you keep staring at my picture?”

… and it seemed like strong-held wishes will always come true to those who wait.

Warning kinda creepy

She chose to ignore the warnings about the pendant. As she raised it to her eyes space seemed to unravel around it, giving way into something more primordial and tinged with malice. The black stone matched her gaze, she could not look away. A timeless eternity later she unclasped it and put it on.

Some time later she awoke from a deep and dreamless sleep and looked around. Her house lights had gone out, though she had no recollection of turning them all off. Light streamed in through the filthy windows and she noticed that the mail slot in her door was crammed full of unopened mail. The rugs and floor were coated in dirt and she could hear the squeak of rats. She got up hesitantly, her legs unused to movement.

She looked down at the pendant. It whispered to her. And what it said was beautiful. And terrifying. She fell to the floor.

A timeless sleep later she was awoken by the bulldozers demolishing her home. The pendant radiated rage. She wasn’t supposed to be awake yet. She raised her head and noticed parts of her body were missing.

The pendant could keep her in stasis for a time but not provide all the nourishment she needed to survive hibernation. She wouldn’t need some bits of herself, it knew. It fed them to her. She heard a section the roof collapse on top of the workmen, killing them all instantly. The woman must not be disturbed yet, the metamorphasis was just beginning.

Suddenly the girl-thing awoke in a daze. Her eyes were filtered, like looking through a kalaedoscope, and she could see a fourth primary colour. Her clothes were rags and below the rags grew reddish scabs like exoskeletal armour, in patches all over her skin. The still-free skin around these scabs was a mass of scar tissue. She looked down at her feet and notice she had three toes per foot. They were fitted with claws on the end. She looked at the pendant which had been around her neck for so long and noticed the black stone was now bloodred. Eyeless, it followed her gaze.

When the wearer of the pendant awoke for the last time its house had long collapsed around it, and so had the city it had once been a part of. The black night sky was streaked with solar flares and what looked like a supernova explosion was visible in the faraway eternity. It arose from its slumber and discarded the pendant without a second glance. The thing that had once been a girl was complete, it had no more need of trinkets. It knew where it had to go. It rose into the sky on buglike wings sprouting from its back and flew off into the horizon to conquer.

Far above the war-torn planet earth hovered a spacecraft from a faraway galaxy. Inside it were two similarly buglike aliens. One gazed down at a special viewscreen showing the movement of the thing that had once been a girl. The other looked in horror in the other direction, at the distant supernova.

They were the Achroi. One thousand years ago their astronomers had predicted the supernova, and that it would destroy their entire solar system. One that day all of Achroius wept. Now it had happened. Even in a millenia, there had not been enough time to get everyone off. Achroius had been a world of quadrillions. Now mere thousands survived, with nowhere to go.

The Council of Achroius had hatched a plan, creating a trinket that stimulated metamorphasis in certain alien species. It had dropped the trinket onto earth and waited for someone to pick it up. Many had. For centuries, it had been reviled as a cursed object, with no understanding of its true purpose. Finally a woman from south africa had picked it up and gazed into its depths and the Achroi knew it had won. The metamorphasis took over five centuries, slowly as the humans warred amongst themselves. Finally, the Achroi watched one of their own emerge from the ruins of a human city and rise to claim the desolate world. They knew then, their species had a future.


Nina: 40
Kiyotaka_Ishimaru: 20
Toga: 10
Fawful: 10



He was so far away. In the morning, when he would wake, his soft face would be illuminated by a different star than mine. I had begged him not to go, but it was the best opportunity of his life. The chance to be a star himself, so far and dim from me, while shining in his own light far far away. It won’t be long 'til my old own star dies. He took the light with him.



I’ve always liked the stars in their home, the outdoors, far away from lights of the city. They seem to futter about in their own way, as if to say, that they will be the way they are for centuries. We could take a page out of their book. We think we need to be celestial being to show the universe what we are, but we don’t have to conform to any imperfect stereotypes or social codes made by those who came before us. Stars remind me of lying on a makeshift stage in Arizona at 1 am, looking up at their beauty. After hours of dancing to country music with my family and extended family, i was fully subdued and able to appreciate their wonders in full. That was one of the times i felt Euphoria in a calm manner. As if my constant need for action was put to rest. No cruise or Disneyland trip could give me the experience that those wonderful creations from god gave me that night on a dancefloor made of plywood kitchen tables. Amen.

From experiences i got from a June 9th, 2018 Crosby family reunion in St. John’s, Arizona, United States of America


Nina: 50
Kiyotaka_Ishimaru: 20
Astropaw: 10
Toga: 10
Fawful: 10


So, right now i’m writing a story about a futureistic society, where there is a caste system based on names. Names are assigned by the goverment, when you register a child. Short names are poorer, while looooooooong names are more wealthy. There are also these people who are called “the nameless” who are basically slaves of the government. The government largly controls the people because of knowledge, or the lack there of. For example, Instead of a clock or watch to be on time for work, loud buzzing sounds are blasted though the workplaces. There is an buzzer that goes off in the room of every working parent, thought most families can’t aford much more than a 2 roomed apartment. This means that if a government official were to say, “I think we should make more money today” he could make people wake up 15 minutes earlier and no one would be the wiser, as he sleeps in till 9am. oh and also(to keepp the system going) being lesbian or gay is strongly outlawed(guess what gay boy made his main character convieniently hella gay).

There are not one, but 2 resistances. The first is called “The liberation” and is the one that our main character works for. They rely on secrecy to make quiet moves against the government. They have a gesture that is pretty well known among the people. They have names that are earned and are a great honor
The second is called “Brutallia” and as its name suggests it is brutal. They think that the best way to take down the government is to run in, guns blazing, and do as much damage as possible. They make fun of the name system, with names like “Bloodmonger” or “Sargent yerdead”
To easily distungiuish the 2, if there is a building out in the open with an inportant millitary general inside, but also some inocent people the groups would:
Brutallia: Burn the building to the ground and move on
The liberation: not risk the lives of the innocent people inside. maybe hack their system, canceling part of the millitary general’s escort and take it over as he/she’s leaving.

I can’t really post snippets of what i’m working on now, but i’ll findo some stuff that can give you guys a feel for it:
…Subtle glances back toward the street and the apartment building windows have become extinct. I see propaganda projected on the sky, “love you leaders,” is said by minister Movella Milagros Moonsong in a constant. I scoff and study her face, caked with so much makeup, but it can’t hide the fact that her 53 years in office have not treated her well…

…I attach a small device to the fingerprint scanner in front of the subway station an access card pops out of a slot in the bottom of the scanner. On it is my photo and fake identity. I examine the picture. I look at my sea green eyes, sharp facial features and short-cut brown hair. This must have been taken a few months ago. I smirk at my name: Eric Blunk, fitting enough. Not too long, but I have a last name: middle class. I pull off the little circular device and conceal it in my sleeve. I march forward at a comfortable pace, I’m not being watched, yet. I wear plain grey pants and a grey long sleeved shirt. I have a cap with the government’s seal on it and a metallic name tag: guard clothing…

Sorry my posts are so long, also do you guys have any adivice on spitting stuff into reasonably sized paragraphs. I mean, i’m fine with dialog, but whe there isn’t it all gets jumbled together


feeling “the glory of being on the leaderboard” right now. XD


scene i’ve been writing that i’m not really sure where to place in the chronology.

Year ? of ? (? LA)
Castaduon System

In my dream I was a princess on a dying world. The holy city was aflame and tremors raced down the street towards me, fleeing the Desolation as if they had minds of their own. I looked up at the Tomb of the Thousand, a massive temple of glass and protas, a marvel of engineering. The tower was coming down. Something even stronger was forcing its way through the many pillars and domes. Something monstrous.

I felt a strange presence in my hand and looked down. Blazing with blue-green fire in my left grip was the Sword of Strangeness. I grinned.

Raising the elder weapon, I turned to face the dragon.

Its face was of hypersteel and carbok, its teeth sharpened spikes of irongranite, its eyes red laser lights. I saw massive gears turning inside the gaps in its skull, computing its thoughts, communicating them with the massive server in the sky. It opened its mouth and a blast of ice spilled forth, crackling and freezing the floor and columns. I was unfazed.

Of its own volition the Sword of Strangeness danced in my hand, singing tales of ancient magic and dark science in a language that was old aeons before humanity ventured into space. The blast of ice slowed hesitantly, fearfully. Without even a thought from me the Sword twisted my arm in a painful waving motion, and the ice dissipated in a heartbeat. With the Sword of Strangeness, the universe was a toy.

Something flashed in the dragon’s eyes. Fear?

“Fool!” it spoke, in a voice so beautiful, so indescribably melodious and perfect, I would hear it repeated in my head for weeks hence. “Thy king hath perished, hewn about thy ruined temple as if a discarded bauble. The carcasses of thy forces lie about thee, for our lady Life stalketh all those who hath not joined her with timbrels and danced. Wilt thou not acquiesce thy destruction? Wilt thou not lay down thy Sword and repent before our Lord?”

“I shall not,” I said quietly.

I swung the Sword of Strangeness and dissolved the dragon’s head at a thought, only to find the surface of reality dissolving with it. As the world blurred and swam away I awoke in my cot in the hold of a small smuggling ship.