Writing School

[Amer]

Oh, i though you meant the other chickens were only nasty to him. He is a chick after all and chickens are not nice to motherless chicks.
You said that he doesnt love his parents. But it sounds like he does but he's convinced himself he doesnt so it doesnt hurt.

Are you currently able to answer the questions he'll have if he does track her down?(the fact that she's survived the foxes all this time might up his opinion of her.)

Why did you leave? (Would she tell him the truth) she'd probably answer with a question
"Why is it your business to ask? What are you doing here?"
If she does: he already knows the reason, the second she answers. He just didn't want to believe it.
Whats wrong with me?
What did i do to make you hate me? (These dont have to be spoken questions but the internal confict would be there at the very least and the writer is going to have to answer those questions, either with what Timmy decides is the reason which should at least attempt to maintain his self image, or with what his mother says.) He doesn't answer. Out loud though. More conversation goes on.

What would his fathers reaction be assuming he's there, what about foxy if shes there.

What would Timmy say to her?

Well basically "I saved you!" And "I luv u"


^u^ my character creation is done a lot differently from most. Sorry if i sound like im trying to change him. Im not. i think what you have is a really good starting point.

I forgot to mention there's no reason Timmy's mother couldn't be dead.
But hopefully she isn't cause it's supposed to be a humorous story.

 

[Amer]

Hmm. I has idea.

My favorite part of writing is actually the characters, so maybe one person could give a description/drawing of a character, and others could provide their personalities and vice versa.
I have a few chars I bought that I just can't get attached to (probably because I can't role play them) so they need some life put in them. Anyone?

Sure wai not? I feel the same way. I used to try to build the characters around the story, but now I realize it's so much more interesting to build the story around the characters, which is why you have to make them interesting.

 

[Amer]

I already have a character for We Could Be Legends. I sorta kinda want to tell you about (yes she is female), but I won't. All I will tell you is that she is 26 instead of 5 lol.

 

[Amer]

This weeks prompt isn't an image, cause no one did last weeks drawing, so I guess they can do it this week if they want.
It's weather. Storms, hurricanes, sea squalls, fair weather, extreme desert heat, dust, blizzards, monsoons, tornadoes, tsunamis floods, hail, rainbows, droughts. Preferably weather you experienced, because to people living in warmer climates a blizzard may sound really bad but it isn't. It's really fun with deadly wind blowing ice shards in your face while you pretend you are in Antarctica, surviving a blizzard or windstorm (because there isn't actually much precipitation there) by shoving your face in a hollow in a snow drift to protect it from the wind. (Warmer than you think.) Or driving over perilous roads.
However, maybe you want to imagine what it's like in the Alps or India or the Gobi desert.
This will help you really imagine those things. https://www.dictionary.com/e/s/10-weather-words-you-need-to-know/?param=HP#amazing-weather-words
Maybe you should include one of those words.
A lot of people would write about humans, however, I think animals would be interesting. How does that little bird feel in a hurricane?
I'm going to write two stories.

 

[Rose Quartz]

This weeks prompt isn't an image, cause no one did last weeks drawing, so I guess they can do it this week if they want.
It's weather. Storms, hurricanes, sea squalls, fair weather, extreme desert heat, dust, blizzards, monsoons, tornadoes, tsunamis floods, hail, rainbows, droughts. Preferably weather you experienced, because to people living in warmer climates a blizzard may sound really bad but it isn't. It's really fun with deadly wind blowing ice shards in your face while you pretend you are in Antarctica, surviving a blizzard or windstorm (because there isn't actually much precipitation there) by shoving your face in a hollow in a snow drift to protect it from the wind. (Warmer than you think.) Or driving over perilous roads.
However, maybe you want to imagine what it's like in the Alps or India or the Gobi desert.
This will help you really imagine those things. https://www.dictionary.com/e/s/10-weather-words-you-need-to-know/?param=HP#amazing-weather-words
Maybe you should include one of those words.
A lot of people would write about humans, however, I think animals would be interesting. How does that little bird feel in a hurricane?
I'm going to write two stories.

Hmmm.... i might have to write it on real paper and just take a picture. I love weather.

 

[Amer]

Hmmm.... i might have to write it on real paper and just take a picture. I love weather.

Fine enough.

Spoiler: Weather

The strange, barren landscape of the planet Rolkow spread out before Wakanda. She felt a brisk wind brush her olive colored face, giving it a pink shade. Her shiny black braids poking out of her taiden fur hood were tossed by the wind. It whistled over the stark white hills and cliffs. Snow covered everything, blown into sastrugi. Not an animal was to be seen. The emptiness of the landscape seemed to reflect off of how empty her soul felt. She felt alone. But she was not alone. Not yet. She looked off into the distance, to where her home and family was, crowded around a little purple fire, wondering if she would bring home food. She would try.
Snow fell, though Wakanda hardly noticed. The thundering crash of the waves called her.
She walked out to a little hill and crested it. Even though it had seemed like the icy wasteland was endless, it was only that hills hid what was beyond. Wind blew into her face as she looked out into the vastness. Great cobalt waves, speckled with frazil and sea ice crashed dramatically against the rocks below. The ocean. Wakandda carefully climbed down the path to the rocky beach, thanking her lucky stars for the treaded boots her father gave her. A fall onto the rocks or into the icy water would be fatal. She used the light spear she carried as a stave. Pebbles skipped out from beneath her to the white crest of a wave.
Finally she had made it to the beach, looking for a slab of ice to spear fish from And then she looked up at the clouds...
They swirled ominously, purple, swollen with snow. Snow that could keep you inside for days. It was going to be a three dog night, and not one dog to share it with, she thought grimly. Wakanda remembered what happened to her last dog. It was caught in a storm like this...
And so she ran. She began to scramble up up a cliff, dropping her spear. The wind tugged at her, trying to pull her off. She clutched as hard as she could, trying not to think about the sharp rocks below, or the frigid waters. She looked for her will to survive, inching up the slippery cliff path. It couldn't really be called a path though. Most of it was cliff. Her fingers finally closed around the top and she hauled herself up. Though she was tired she began to run.
Tiny flake drove into her cheeks and blinded her. The hills around her had disappeared in the fury. She hunched her back and fought for her steps forward. The footprints she left were instantly blown away. Anything that still wasn't buried in snow would soon be buried in snow. If I die here, will they ever find me? The wind howled for her to give up. If I am to both otherwise die giving up, why don't I at least die trying?
Wakanda squeezed her eyes shut, snow speckling her black lids. She wasn't cold yet, the snow hadn't soaked into her resistant clothes. But if it did, she wouldn't have much time to live. She remembered something and pulled a mask out of her pocket. Now everything was safe except the area around her eyes.
She stumbled several times, then crawled for what seemed like forever. Each step she took with her knees and her arms seemed impossibly difficult. Tears rolled down her face and froze upon her mask. The cave didn't seem to get closer, and when it did, she saw nothing, just a blinding white nothing in front of her, odd spots of color floating through her vision.
She reached the cave entrance, and by now it seemed all a dream, as she fell in a wet bedraggled lump in the strange purple light. Alive, and home.

 

[RiverStorm]

Y'all mind if I join this?

 

[Amer]

Y'all mind if I join this?

Of course I don't mind.. I was just thinking of inviting you.

 

[RiverStorm]

Of course I don't mind.. I was just thinking of inviting you.

Thanks!

 

[Amer]

@LilJoe
@LittlePip21
@puffypoo22
Wanna join?

Spoiler: Weather

Isn't the best, but I wrote it, might as well prove it. I think a really cool chicken role play would be a winter one. Or a desert one. (I've always wanted to go to the desert. Really really bad. That's part of the reason I did desert cats.)
(I wondered what it would be like for chickens trying to survive winter in my climate.)
The snow had fallen overnight, soft and sparkly, with an untouched look that urged you to walk in it. It looked like an ordinary Midwestern forest winter scene, snow blanketing trees and the forest floor. But this place was nothing but ordinary.
There were chickens living in the forest. They had been only been released that spring.
Normally friends would be grouped together in their favorite roosting spots, instead of the flock sharing one area.
Pecks fluffed snow off herself and nudged Sundrop, who was perched next to her. "Look! Wake up Sundrop! Snow!"
A lot of the snow Pecks shook off sunk deep into Sundrops feathers. "As if you needed to remind me when you dumped it down my back," she grumbled.
"Come on, let's see what it's like!" said Pecks. She hopped off the slender branch she was perched on and jumped into the snow."Gee, it's cold," she said.
Sundrop didn't want to leave the perch, but she followed anyways. "How are we going to find food now that it's gotten cold?" She asked.
"Oh, that's easy," Pecks said breezily. "We... well we..."
"So you don't know what we are going to do? Great," said Sundrop.
"You chose to be leader of us two, not me. I, I don't need responsibilities," said Peck.
"You always have ideas, even if they are horribly harebrained," Sundrop said.
"See, I told you you needed me," Peck tried sticking out her tongue, but it looked like she had a yawning disorder or something. "Anyways, there's berries," she said.
"Lets get the berries," Sundrop yawned.
They wandered deep into the woods. Pecks got the feeling she was being watched.
"Fox!" Sundrop screamed. A red blur reached out for her, and Pecks flew into a tree. There was no use trying to fight a fox, especially in the snow, when it had an advantage. Sundrop dropped bunches of yellow feathers and broke free. All the fox had in it's mouth were feathers!
Pecks alerted any chickens who were near as Sundrop flew into a tree. The fox paced as it left black footprints in the snow.
"That was a close one," Sundrop gasped.
Pecks turned her head to her far seeing eye, giving her a view deep into the woods. "I think it has left," she said finally. "We just have to be more cautious."
The pair of them walked to where the rest of the flock was gathered. It was agreed that some of the roosters would watch and others would find food. The hens still layed eggs, even this late in the year.
Soon they found an elderberry bush and began eating. Once they had eaten their fill, they didn't feel like doing much else in the cold snow. The days were shorter anyways, so they settled together in a fir to roost, fluffed up, and sharing body heat.
"It looks like it's going to snow," said Pecks nervously. She carefully shut her eyes, but the wind began to blow something fierce. Sundrop leaned closer, hiding her head under Pecks' stippled brown wing. She felt jealous of the chicken a few branches down with the tiny pea comb.
The harsh wind broke on the thick needles on the fir. It insulated them, along with the snow that was clinging to the branches. Sundrop was grateful to have Pecks by her side, and nuzzled deeper, feeling the skin. Like a little heater. She covered her toes carefully with her breast feathers and wondered what it was like to be Petra, a hen with a few foot feather.
Pecks nuzzled closer. And the night passed. The birds stretched, never knowing they were strong enough to survive a night of snow.