✍️ Monthly writing prompt [DECEMBER]

Posted 1 year, 6 months ago (Edited 8 months, 25 days ago) by Caine

Due to a suggestion on Writers' Thread I'm giving a go to a monthly writing prompt thread! Basically I'll post a new writing prompt on the first day of every month and you have one month to complete the text and post here!
(Also, if you feel like this thread belongs to character discussion rather than a game feel free to move it - I feel like both forum games and character discussion could be appropriate places for this.)


  1. On the first day of every month a new prompt will be posted! It can be a single word, a sentence or something else 
  2. You're free to interpret the prompt as you wish! This means you can be as creative as you want with the given theme - only your imagination is the limit!
  3. When you're done with your writing, post it here either as a link to your story, or put it under read more
  4. Basically that's it! It's a very simple game 
  • Post only writings that are appropriate for all users on this thread! Also the general rules of TH obviously apply here as well
  • You're free to post as many writings as you wish based on the theme! 
  • You have a full month to complete your work. You can also post a little later if you want, but the idea of this game is to produce something within the given time frame
  • Starting day is always the 1st day of the month and you can submit your pieces up until the 1st day of the next month (of any time zone)
  • Feel free to comment and ping other people if you want to say something nice about their work! But if you want to give critique make sure to do it outside of this thread & ask them first if they're ok with that!
  • Keep your content OC focused. Fanfiction is alright as long as it features an original character you made
  • There is no limit to how long or short your contribution can be! Go wild!
More rules might be added if needed! Just have fun and be nice to each other! 


(Image is from Pixabay with CC0 license)

This month's prompt is an image! Write anything the image makes you think of!
As always, you're free to interpret the theme exactly as you will, so don't hesitate to get very creative!!  

Previous prompts:


February: Something precious
March: Big news
April: Sea
May: "Can you hear it?"
June: Celebration
July: Sneaking around
August: School
September: Alternative universe
October: Scare
November: "I don't think this is a good idea"


Hurray for prompts~! 

Inspired by prompt. Featuring Renne and Myrrha!

"I was wondering something dear." Myrrha  abruptly spoke up while she and her daughter were walking down the  garden pathways. The young noble glanced at the smaller woman as she  shifted a box in her arms, her eyes wide with curiosity. They hadn't  talked much since the former queen had returned to Fenrir, so what was  this about?

"What's that?" She asked while taking care not to trip  over the outstretched row of flowers in front of her. Myrrha folded her  arms behind her and with a whimsical smile, turned to her child.

"Have  you said you love him yet?" The nature of the sudden inquiry caused  Renne to yelp and drop the box from her arms, her face growing hot as  she turned to face the small Wolflian woman that was her mother.

"W-w-what?!  M-mother, what the hell are you saying?!" Her outburst earned a frown  from the white haired noble who gave a disapproving look.

"Language,  dear." She comically chastised before regaining her smile and kept  walking forwards, leaving Renne to hastily collect the box back into her  arms and hurry after her. Once she was beside Myrrha, the woman went  on. "You certainly can't tell me you don't have feelings for him,  especially not after your affectionate display in Baelheim." 

"T-that's..."  Renne's lips quivered as she thought back to the scene in question. Her  arms outspread as she leapt from the stands and tackled her knight to  the ground in a tight hug. Tears fell from her face that day as she  quietly chastised the boy for being so unbearably reckless. 

"I  was there, I saw. It's alright to admit. After all, everyone has someone  precious to them." Myrrha's voice drew the young noble out of her daze  and she glanced at the white haired woman, the red highlights seeming to  glow as it flowed in the wind. "I don't quite understand why you're  being so stubborn." 

"I..." Renne turned her gaze to the ground  and stopped walking. "Even if I felt someway towards him, what am I  supposed to do about it?" The girl's face flushed a deeper crimson as  she began to think about it more, and Myrrha let out a soft chuckle as  her lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

"Your father was the same  way, you know." She remarked and folded her hands at her waist. "He was a  foolish, reckless boy.  Charging into the front of battle." Momentarily  distracted from her thoughts, the blush faded from Renne's face and she  looked down at her mother with inquisitive eyes.

"Really?" She  earned a nod from the woman who began to recall various events from her  past, and her expressions changed from amusement to anger, and back  again in the span of a few seconds.

"He was that way, but that boy  was also incredibly kind." She went on as the pair continued to wander  about through the palace gardens. "He was admittedly quite idealistic at  times, but I loved that part about him too." Renne's attention quickly  waned and she started to think about her mother's words before. Love?  What nonsense. The girl never had time to think about such things, and  she wasn't particularly a fan of the common romance stories she read as a  child. 

No stories about a knight sweeping a girl off her feet. How ridiculous, she would often say. Even now, she thought they were unrealistic. And yet...

"Oh,  your majesty, and Renne!" The sudden male voice made the pair glance  left and they caught sight of Riy as he passed by them. The boy was  carrying a crate full of armor and weapons, prompting Myrrha to giggle  and hold a hand to her mouth.

"Oh there's no need for that. I'm no  longer your queen, child." She told him with a firm look, but Riy  frowned and tilted his head.

"I dunno, it would feel awkward if I  just called you by your name." He replied honestly, earning a smile from  the white-red haired woman who placed a hand on her hip. Renne on the  other hand had turned her gaze away, her cheeks heating back up from  seeing the youth here. The conversation she had been having a moment ago  was fresh in her mind, and she was unable to maintain eye contact with  her friend.

"Why don't the two of you have some time to talk? I'll  get out of your way." Myrrha said this with a laugh, but before Riy  could respond, Renne tightly clutched the box in her arms and suddenly  hurried ahead towards the palace, her lips quivering. 

"N-no, I  need to get things done. Otherwise they'll p-pile up." She stuttered as  she left the others behind. Seeing her run off, Myrrha gave a tired sigh  and ran a hand through her hair.

"That child of mine." As she  said this, Riy looked at the woman with arched brows, somewhat curious  as to what had possibly transpired.

"Did I miss something?" He was  met with a simple shake of the head, and Myrrha gestured for the boy to  follow her through the garden.

"Nothing at all dear."

Renne  on the other hand had managed to hide behind a pillar nearby, and sank  to her knees as her face regained its crimson color from before. Setting  the box down, she brought a hand to her mouth as her heart beat  quickened. 

T-there's no way. I can't... I... Yet no matter how she tried to rationalize it, she couldn't think of an excuse.
She was truly falling in love with her friend.

Raviere Rondonu

What a good pure prompt i'm crying----
I can't believe I wrote some super bitter sweet stuff like this aksdflsdjflksfj

I gazed down at the small child in front of me, her bright blue eyes gazing up expectantly and with a naive innocence that I find almost painful.  There's a pile of books by her bedside, old and worn from years of reading over and over until the lanterns light would flicker or her eyes fluttered shut and fell deep asleep.  My heart ached for her; if not for me, these books would be the only stories she ever got to hear.  I cleared my throat, casting her a warm smile as she nestled down under her blanket, still gazing at me with those inquisitive little eyes.  Yes, time to tell her another story.  Which one would it be tonight?  

"Lysithia, have I ever told you about--"


That was unusual.  Typically she couldn't wait for her story, and to be interrupted just as I was about to begin... it must have been something important.  I waited patiently.  Lysithia twisted her blanket between her fingers nervously, staring down at it while she tried to gather her thoughts.  About a minute passed; I was fine with this.  She always did have trouble speaking her mind.

Suddenly, her small hand reached out and gently rested on top of mine.  I felt my body naturally try to lift and retreat in surprise but I kept it firmly there.  What was all this about? This felt awfully bold for my timid, quiet girl... but the way she suddenly turned her head to stare with such intensity at me had me feeling weak.  I'd not seen a look like this before, not from her, or... not while she was in this body, anyways.

"I want you to only tell me a story that makes you happy, Remy!" She blurted the words so quickly that I wondered if a normal human would have been able to understand them.  I listened intently, only nodding. "Wh-when you tell me stories, even though they're happy sometimes you look so sad... Like your heart is broken.  I can't be happy if you aren't, o-okay?"  

I sat there for a moment, shocked, completely silent.  There she was, using my Old Name as if she'd known it all along, and telling me she knew of the bitter sweet pain that came along with telling my happy 'stories'.  They were all stories about her, who she'd been in her past life and what we'd done.  My eyes began to sting and I quickly rubbed them, forcing the tears back.  Here she was, only seven years old, a sick little girl who could never leave her home, and she understood me better than anyone.  

"Of course.  I'll pick a nice story this time." 

She smiled softly and her small hand slid off of mine.  Normally I'd smile back but now... now I knew she could see right through me and so I could only offer her genuine behaviors.  I sighed softly and closed my eyes for a moment, and when I re-opened them I saw her sitting up, attentive against her bedframe as she hugged a stuffed animal tightly to her.  A burst of soft, deep affection filled me; I loved this gentle little girl as if she were my own.  She was precious... this time I'd get it right.  This life, I'd save her.

"Once upon a time..." 

Leslie Gif

Nice quality thread with nice quality prompts. gonna write about leslie because i love him very much

((english is not my first language, so if y'all can give opinions on it i'd really appreciate it ;v; ))

Well, at least when you are alone, people don't know how pathetic you can be.

Leslie has the same routine every single day. Waking up, putting on his clothes, going on the computer. It was a routine that got him wondering, when was he gonna get tired of it? Leslie was always doing work, talking on foruns, or buying more toys online for himself. It was a pretty lonely and superficial routine, despite all the "danger" he was putting himself into because of his work as an informer and hacker of the mafia, he never really gave much of thought about what could happen to him. Leslie is usually too full of himself to even think of getting caught.

Although Leslie has several issues with himself, like his agoraphobia and germophobia, he always kept his cool on his own safe zone, his house. The panic attacks he used to have, are now almost completly gone, and with that his confidence should get better, but it didn't. Leslie was feeling nothing at all, and he didn't knew if this was dangerous to himself or not. Usually, when he felt that feeling of emptiness, he knew he would explode at some point. He just didn't knew where or how.

He tried to go along his day feeling at least neutral. At afternoon, he prepared to himself a nice "tea party" with no guests. Warm, sweet tea to enjoy with some sugary cookies. Everything was working swell. It was a good day. His day went by, and at night he went to his special room. A room filled with miniature toys from all over the world, adorable toys, plushies, and dolls. He was a big collector, and his room was his happy place and his most precious thing on his life, which is kinda sad.

On the center of the room, there was a lovely white ornate table  covered on an adorable embroidered tablecloth with an sewing machine in the top of it. Leslie gently sat on the chair, who was also adorably ornate, and started sewing a new dress for his new doll, and with his pale hands, the needle accidentally prickled his finger. Leslie stopped to look at his finger, bleeding on the white embroidered fabric, staining it with red. That was the moment Leslie knew it was gonna come sooner or later; When he was about to crack. Tears started rolling down his cheeks, not minding the blood on the fabric anymore. The tears were about another reason, and it was the realization that he was alone, and his most precious being were the dolls, toys, and plushies.

He felt more alone and pathetic than ever. Crying on the center of a toy room, with all the eyes of the dolls on him. It filled him with anxiety, and Leslie's cry grew louder and louder. But that doesn't matter. After all, no one could hear him. He was all alone.

maescia littlebirby

aaa this is super cute!! i havent been writing as much but ill try it out!! feedback is appreciated if you feel so fit c:

also featuring redwood and tobias hfjdjj

"So, how did you meet, uh..." Tobias gestured to the adolescent deer standing guard next to Maescia in her cozy living room. Maescia looked up from her cup of hot tea, pulling herself out of the major daydream she was slipping into.

"Redwood," Maescia finished for him. The fawn looked at Maescia, apparently responding to his name. "Well, it's kind of a funny story. For me, anyway. Maybe not funny, sort of-" She paused and cleared her throat. "Sorry. Still getting back in the swing of talking like a 'regular' person.

"When I first came to the forest, I spent a lot of time wandering. The house was barely built, and not at all furnished. One day I heard a bunch of scuffling in a ditch, right? Well, Redwood was in there. He had a sort of, uh, snapped leg?" Tobias cringed, and Maescia waved her hands. "It wasn't awful! It was, but not awful to look at.  Painful, that's the word. He was just kind of, trying to get back up out of there, but he couldn't because he was small and weak."

Redwood huffed, nudging Maescia's shoulder and nearly spilling her tea. "Sorry!" She laughed anyway, and Tobias watched silently.

"I remember, I got down there with him to try and help him out, and he went ballistic. He was trying to get away from me and attack me at the same time. It was kind of impressive. Imagine a hurt animal trying to bite your fingers off."

She sat silent for a minute, trying to remember what happened next. Redwood headbutt her and gave her a nasty mark on her left thumb, then...

"Then what?" Tobias leaned forward, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Then again, that was always there. It was probably just him waiting to move on with the conversation.

"Then I waited for him to get tired and push-pulled him out of the ditch. I helped him to my house, did what I could to fix up his leg, and waited for him to go on his way. He never did. I don't even think he had a momma at that point."

The three sat in a still, tense silence. Maescia took a sip of her tea. Tobias stared at the floor. Redwood stared the male down, slightly less wary than he was when the other human showed up.

"Redwood, he's one of my best friends." Tobias looked up to see Maescia staring in her tea again, platinum blonde hair falling over the sides of her face and hiding her expression. "He's been with me ever since. And that's been, what, two or three years? I'm glad he's here with me."

"I'm sure he takes good care of you," Tobias did his best to smile at the deer, although it probably came off more as a grimace.

"He does," Maescia replied slowly, reaching up and sideways to pet Redwood's head. He bent down and allowed her to do so, closing his eyes. Tobias observed their relationship closely. Obviously they cherished each other, and their bond was practically unbreakable.

Would a deer be allowed in the library? Probably not.

Casanova Hutcherson Kirbygal

uwu I'm not much of a writer but I really wanted to try this too xD Maybe it'll help motivate me to get into writing more, cuz recently I feel like I'll need it ;; this took me all week to do this i cri 

Forgive my grammar and although it ended up kinda sad and much longer than I anticipated, hope you like it ^^;;

Casanova glanced towards the calendar on the wall, scanning through the days that have already passed. The turn of the year was almost two weeks ago, and most of the New Year festivities have died down. He was more interested in a more important day, however, and he brushed his fingers across the day he had drawn a star in. January 14th is now only two days away, the day of his papa's birthday. It's been over a year since he had last seen him, or had last been in his presence. This time, he felt like visiting him in person. He couldn't wait to be with him again, for he had a lot to tell him. 

Parting from the calendar, he went towards the closet and pulled out a small suitcase from the back corner and began packing a few clothes. He didn't need much; the most he would want to stay is for two, maybe three days. He would go by his uncle, spend some time there, then go see his papa on his birthday. Once the clothes were in, Casanova packed the essential items. He was done in no time, since he wasn't going to carry much, and didn’t have much possessions himself anyway. He had just zipped the mini suitcase shut when he heard the door open.

Helix, his roommate and lover, walked in the room, and his face lit up when he saw Casanova. “Ohh there you are Casa!” He exclaimed cheerfully, suggesting that he had been looking for him. His eyes then wandered towards the mini suitcase and his smile faltered just a little. “W-where are you going?” 

Casanova pointed towards the calendar, and Helix turned his head to look. “...papa’s birthday...is soon.” Casanova spoke, rolling the suitcase towards the side of the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed next to it. 

“Ohh okaaay,” Helix said, closing the door behind him. He walked over to Casanova and sat down next to him, but suddenly realizing something, he turned to face him. “But wait… i-isn’t he-”

He was cut short by Casanova placing his finger upon his lips, and his soft stare down on him. Breathing in deeply, Casanova sighed, then stood up and went towards the closet once more to find his thick winter coat and gear. “I’ll… still go see him,” he said.

“I… I see,” Helix replied, playing with his fingers. “Do you want me to go with you too?” He asked.

Having donned his coat, Casanova paused, thinking about that offer, In the end, he shook his head, and put on his hat and gloves. “No...It’s okay. I… want to be with him… alone.” He finished getting dressed and grabbed his suitcase handle. “Well I’m… going to go now….”

“Oh but Casa,” Helix started, “What about work? What would the boss say about this?”

“Boss… would understand,” he replied, glancing towards the door.

“Are you sure? What if he wouldn’t-”

Once again Helix was cut off from speaking, this time with Casanova’s lips upon his own in a gentle kiss. Stunned, Helix stared back at him wide eyed, until Casanova pulled away and rose his hand to stroke his lover's cheek. “See you… in a few days….” He says, before standing back up and walking out of the room, the suitcase rolling smoothly behind him. Helix couldn't do anything but stare at his back as he left.

Casanova took the elevator to the garage level, and located his car; a modern modelled and popular brand that his uncle had got custom made for him for his longer than average legs. He packed the suitcase in the back seat, then sat in the driver's seat to rev it up. He then started to drive towards the garage exit, then towards the outer road away from his workplace and dorm. Once he drove far enough to have a comfortable position in the roads, he pressed a few commands on the car's touchscreen monitor in the middle of the dashboard, calling his uncle. He picked up after the third ring.

“Casa… is that you…?” his uncle answered in a groggy voice. Casanova realized he had forgotten to take notice of the time difference; where his uncle lived was hours ahead of his own time, and it was past midnight already there. 

“Ah… sorry,” Casanova replied apologetically, “I was just… calling to say that… I'm coming.” 

“Wha...why? All of a sudden why- ohh...” his uncle muttered, and shuffling noises of bedsheets and papers were heard in the background, and by the sound of that “ohh” Casanova concluded that his uncle took notice of the calendar. “Ah I see, I see,” his uncle confirmed, “So, when's your flight? Wait, are you driving?”

“Yes. I'm… driving to the airport now. I'll… call again once I'm booked.” 

“Ahh you should've called after you booked in the first place,” his uncle grumbled, “eh, I'll see of one of the servants are still awake. They'll keep track of you for me.” Casanova heard his uncle yawn then fall back upon his bed; he could hear the thump of the sheets and the slight bounce of the springs. “Well, I'll see you in the morning then.  Or afternoon or whatever.” Casanova told him goodnight then hung up the call, switching his focus on driving again.

A large amount of hours later, Casanova's flight had touched down and he had retrieved his suitcase, walking towards the arrivals area. He spotted one of his uncle's servants waiting for him and he went over. The servant gave his greetings to Casanova and the two of them walked to where the servants car was parked, and they took the long drive to his uncle's very large house. 

Once they reached the house, the two went inside and his uncle greeted them by the door, enveloping him in a warm hug before guiding him inside. Casanova was already familiar with his house before, so he took his stuff upstairs to the usual room he would go to whenever he stayed. From the door to his room he looked down the hallway towards another door near its end. A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he stared at that door, which belonged to his papa. Taking a breath, Casanova went into his own room and made himself comfortable. 

After spending the rest of that day with his uncle and after sleeping in late, Casanova awoke around near noon on the 14th. Once he realized the date, he became more attentive, and started to dress himself quickly. He made his way downstairs where his uncle waited for him, presenting him with a hot breakfast, knowing that Casanova would get up late. 

“You're going to go see him now, right?” his uncle asked once Casanova was done eating. 

“...Yeah. I need to … go into town first though. To… pick up a few things.” He replied, putting his things in the sink. He walked over to where his coat and shoes are and started putting them on. His uncle called one of the servants to go prepare the car for Casanova for him to the into town. 

“Hey,” his uncle spoke, “try and come back before the evening, okay? I’m gonna…,” he took a breath, “I'm gonna grab one of his favorite wines and have a drink with him when you're done, alright?” He gave Casanova a slight smile and Casanova nodded back. 

Once Casanova was ready, he and the servant drove into town. His first stop was into a bakery that he knew well. He normally wasn't into sweet things, but he knew his papa loved the local thick and gooey textured chocolate cake. He bought a slice and had it placed into a special box. He left the bakery and took a walk down the street, glancing at the shops all around him.

The front window of a florist caught his eye, so he walked over and peered through the glass. He saw many colorful bouquets and even more single colored ones lined neatly in rows, waiting to be bought. He entered the shop to take a closer look at them. The shop was small but had a sweet fragrance in the air. The florist, noticing that she had a customer, greeted Casanova.

He slowly moved in front of the bouquet display, inspecting the different types of colors and arrangements of them all. Thinking about deciding to buy one or not, he wanted to find a simple yet meaningful bouquet that would sway his decision. He became lost in thought as he looked, so he didn’t notice the florist come up to him and asked if he wanted some help.

Hearing her voice, Casanova snapped out of it, turning to look at her. :Hello sir, “ she spoke again “I was asking if you wanted some help? You look like you’re having a hard time deciding what to get.”

“Ah...sure,” he replied, shuffling uneasily. 

The florist smiled gently at Casanova. “Now, what’s the occasion, sir?”

“It’s ...a present.”

“Oh okay! For who?”

“Someone… I haven’t seen in… a long time.”

“Ohh,” the florist said softly., then appeared to be thinking of something. After a while, she asked, “Just one more thing,  this person, is it someone close to you? Or someone you care about?”

Casanova looked over at her, slightly surprised at how accurate she seemed to be. All he could do was nod. The florist was content with that. “Here, I think this flower would be a great match for that person.”

She picked a bouquet filled with plenty of pink carnations wrapped in a thick, white decorative paper. “Different types of flowers have their own set of special meanings for certain occasions,” she explains, “and this applies to the color of the flower as well. This pink one has a very special religious backstory to it, but in short, it is a symbol of undying love. In another context, it could be used to say ‘I miss you.’ If that person you're gifting it to was born in January, then it becomes more special, since carnations are like the flower of the month for January, in some places.”

Casanova was fascinated by her explanation. Not only was this new information, since he didn’t know much about the language of flowers, but this specific type and color of flower seemed to be the perfect type for his situation… for his papa. Without additional hesitation he told her that he will buy it, so the two went to the cashier and had their exchange. He thanked the florist with great gratitude before leaving her shop.

Casanova walked back to where the servant and his car was waiting, telling him that he was ready to go see his papa. The servant nodded, and started the engine. Casanova made his way into the back seat, holding his bought items close to him and looked out the window. The car started to move and soon the sights of the town slowly began to die away. 

After what felt like a long time, they finally reached their destination. Casanova caught a glimpse of the big black gates to the entrance of where his papa was being held; he remembered seeing these gates only once before, on the last time he had seen him. The servant parked off to the side of the gate, picking an empty spot, and Casanova left the car, pulling the top of his coat closer towards him. The air was cold, quiet, and unusually calm. He told the servant he would be back within a couple of hours, then turned towards the gated entrance. 

He walked down the paved pathways, glancing at his surroundings, tracing the path he took the first time he came here, over a year ago. The sound of his footsteps and the rustling grass were prominent in his ears. He walked up a hill like slope, taking a couple turned when his memory helped him, and eventually he recognized the area where his papa was. 

He walked a distance, then ran the rest of the way, not wanting to wait a second longer. His breathing shared a rhythm with his pacing, as he kept his eyes glued to one particular object. The wind picked up a little as he approached that object; that marking in the ground that displayed his papa’s location. He then stood right in front of it, then kneeled down in front of it, adjusting his body to sit on his legs. 

He remembered helping his uncle choosing the perfect type of stone; the perfect type of font to engrave his name in; the type of phrasing he knew he would like; the very location he laid in now, upon this hill, closest to where the stars would shine on a clear night. All those important and meaningful decisions looked back at Casanova as he looked upon the object, and traced his fingers across his papa's name.

Over a year has passed since his papa was laid to rest at this very spot.

Casanova placed the boxed cake slice off to the side, then took the bouquet of pink carnations and held it tenderly, before placing it gently in front of the gravestone. He then bent forwards towards the stone, wrapping his arms around it tightly in a warm embrace, and he wore an unusual expression mixed with pain and peacefulness. He turned his head slightly, resting his cheek upon the smooth, cold stone and whispered into it for him to hear;

“Happy birthday, papa.”

Julia Wright/Henry Newman Cliodna

Wrote one. :)

It's probably the first thing of Julia/Henry that uses exclusively female pronouns. Headcanon aftermath of a roleplay-canon werewolf attack that had left hir nearly literally disarmed. Centered around pancakes. It's very long-winded with little pay-off but it was nice to write.

Julia shot up from the bed and fumbled for the off-switch of her blaring alarm clock. Click. The woman caught her breath in the sudden silence A moment later she turned to check on the blanketed body of Melodie Ashen, curled under the covers with hardly anything but her wavy shock of dark hair left visible. For a moment she'd hoped that the other one had not awoken, but Melodie stirred sluggishly, bringing her forehead and one bleary eye to view.

„...w't time s'it...?“

„Too early,“ Julia gave her lover a fond look, leaned down and kissed the top of her head briefly: „You can sleep a bit more, I'll wake you up at seven.“ Melodie replied with a vague murmur.

Julia earnestly considered re-setting the alarm clock and submerging under the blankets with her. To lay next to that warm body some more, only if for another half an hour, another five minutes even. Reluctantly, however, she left behind the heat of their bed and dressed with difficulty.

She tiptoed to the refrigerator and was hit with the scent of soured dairy. It had been over a forthnight since anyone had last been to this apartment and neither had spent much time in the kitchen last night. At this rate there was no point grocery shopping anymore, as everything would mold before it could be used up. The woman  grunted in displeasure and looked through the rest of the kitchen for needed materials. Julias' left arm could still barely be lifted at the elbow, but at least the prosthetic one was capable of pretty sophisticated movement. Still, the search was clumsy and resulted in multiple boxes of dried goods falling out of their respective cupboards.

She quickly checked across the doorstep whether the noise had awoken Melodie before beelining for the livingroom phone. As much as the woman wanted to do this on her own she needed materials. Julia unsteadily dialed her husbands' number by heart, then waited patiently while the operator connected the call.

„Wright residence, mister Terry Wright speaking.“ uttered a man on the other end of the line.

„Good morning, Terry, it's me,“ Julia chirped. The mans' sleepy, familiar voice gave her an immediate sense of homesickness. She conjured an image of Terry in her mind - tall, messy-haired and rubbing sleep from his eyes, before continuing with her request: „Could you come over real quick? I need some things.“

„What happened?“ he asked, suddenly a lot less sluggish.

„Everything is fine!“ she elicited a brief laugh to calm the man down, realizing with a bang of guilt that he must've thought she was in trouble to be calling at such an hour: „I need a cup of sugar, and maybe if you have some milk left over...?“

There was a pause, followed by a sigh. „Is miss Ashen  r e a l l y  demanding baking supplies at six thirty in the morning?“

„No, of course not. Look, I'm just making pancakes, of my own initiative. Half the things are either missing or growing an ecosystem. Please, please do me this favor, you can go back to bed afterwards. I only have until seven o'clock before I have to wake her up for breakfast and work.“

Another sigh „Fine, I'll be there in...10 minutes, that fine?“

„Sure,I suppose.“ She thanked him, hung up, and got to work on gathering the ingredients that were actually present. Despite her earnestness the mess in the kitchen was only getting worse from the efforts. Turns out that a bag of flour is very hard to manipulate with semi-workable arms, as are open packages of coffee. By the time her husband let himself in twelve minutes later the place looked like a battlefield in the aftermath of an un-nutritious food war, with her in the middle of it trying to sweep the worst up into a single pile.

He exchanged the usual pleasantries while letting his gaze wander around the kitchen,  stopping at the spilled coffee and flour, then rising to the small victory standing on the stovetop „Oh, I see you've put the kettle on,“ Terry chimed, knowing from experience that remarking on the mess would just be rubbing his wife's injuries in. He put a paper bag on the counter, producing from it a jar, half a bottle of milk, some sugar and a single pale-pink dahlia: „Got your missing groceries, and some jam. Took a cutting from one of my plants while I was at it, since I thought you might want to liven the table up.“

„Terry, you really shouldn't have...“

„Just helping out on you doing the whole „romantic breakfast“ thing properly,“ he smiled a bit and rushed to put the flower in an empty vase: „How's your arm?“

The woman smiled back, then flexed her fingers demonstrably, immediately dropping the broom whilst doing so, „Feels pretty good today“ She attempted to pick the broom off the floor, but couldn't force her digits to close around the handle with enough force no matter how hard she tried, reluctantly accepting Terry's aid in the matter. The prosthetic replacing her right arm was now limp and lifeless. Alas, part of the whole supernatural cover-up meant that she was not allowed to show its' capabilities with „normies“ around, instead having to rely on the limited mobility of her crippled left arm. Julia had come to feel, that she must seem mile-deep in denial to non-occultists and had thus started to avoid their company altogether in recent weeks. It had even become hard to talk to Terry, as the woman couldn't tell him the truth of what had happened to her. Even now, although glad to see the man, a part of her wanted him to leave.

„Thanks for the help, I think I can manage the rest on my own, the arm's just a bit stiff.“

„You aren't going to kick me out yet, are you?“ Terry joked „I thought I could help you make that coffee and pancakes, seeing as it's my day off.“

„This is my attempt at a romantic gesture Terry, I should do it on my own.“

„It's the thought that counts, not who executes it. You'll get things done quicker with me around.“

„Why do you care whether your wife gets her lovers' breakfast done in time...?“

„Because I care about your happiness,“ Terry replied without hesitations. He removed the kettle, which had started to boil, from the stove and kept speaking: „Because miss Ashen seems nice, though a bit possessive at times-“


„-and I like seeing things go well between the two of you,“ the man poured some coffee into two cups, not including one for himself „I think it's sweet how you're putting effort into her.“

„Well, she's precious to me.“

„I know. I've never seen you light up near another person the way you do with her,“ Terry turned to his wife with a mirthless little smile: „I'm just...just glad that, after what happened, you've got someone you can confide to. Even if that someone is not me anymore.“

The two shared a melancholic look at that, with Julia becoming painfully aware how rapidly they were growing apart despite knowing one-another for twelve years. Her involvement with The Occultists, the contrast between what had really happened and the falsehoods presented to Terry, her own reluctance to play up traumas for the sake of the official cover-story, even their extended absence from each-others lives during the second World War all contributed to the divide. They'd married, because neither had dared to face the world or their respective orientations without an ally by their side, and until recently a part of that arrangement had been mutual honestly, which Julia just could not upkeep anymore.

After all, Terry was precious as well, just in a different way from Melodie. Julia cared for her husband as one would a best friend or a relative, and thus couldn't bear him to get involved with the things that went bump in the night.

Similar thoughts probably went through Terry's head as well, although he was unaware of the nature of his wife's reluctance to spend time with him. After a moment the man coughed and pulled up his sleeves „Tick-tock. 13 minutes to seven, we can still make it if we're quick. Let's do it like this - you make the pancakes by ordering me about, I'm the manual labor. What do I do?“

Julia glanced at the clock as well and gave in, even smiling a bit as she did: „Alright. First, I need you to take two eggs and crack them into that white bowl in the leftmost cupboard...“

She couldn't blame him for putting in effort to make her happy and the least she could do in return was cheer Terry up by allowing him to help. Even despite their perceived divide she was still precious to him, and that would forever mean a lot.








Oh hey a new month, a new prompt. I'll post something here and no I'm totally not using this thread as an excuse to procrastinate and note finish what I should be editing now.

Featuring Celeste, Renne, and Riy! (and some characters not yet uploaded.)

"Good morning!" When he had finally awoken from his slumber, the first thing Riy heard was the voice of a young woman to his right. With how cheery and full of pep it was, it could only belong to one person. With his hair in complete disarray, he turned his gaze to his right and saw someone standing by with a cheery grin and hands on their hips. Their raven grey hair was swept over their shoulder, as they leaned towards him, and their clothes were decidedly steampunk themed, with a large metal gear strapped to their waste. Blinking a few times before yawning, Riy stretched his arms above his head.

"Melilei, why do I have to keep telling you," He reached over midsentence and grabbed the girl by the cheek and lightly pulled on it, prompting her to comically whine. "Not to come into my room?!" He let go of the girl, leaving her to nurse the cheek he'd tugged on with a frown as she stepped back to allow the boy to stand.

"Princess Renne told me it was alright, and besides. No one else seems to be able to wake you." She answered before turning towards the open doorway, her frown quickly replaced by a bright smile. "Enough of that though. Princess Celeste has an important announcement to make, and she sent me to get you!" 

"Celeste sent you? Mrrgh..." With a tired yawn, he glanced over at his dresser where his armor and coat were laid out. There was a pause before he exhaled loudly and rubbed the back of his head with an understanding nod. "I'll be out in a minute." He said this, but Melilei just stood there with an expectant expression. It took a few seconds for it to dawn on Riy that she was waiting for him to undress, eliciting a growl from the youth as he walked over to her.

"Get out!" With a shout, he gave the girl a light shove that moved her into the hallway, then he slammed the door shut with a grumble. He was muttering something that Melilei could not hear, but it didn't stop the girl from giggling at how he reacted to her teasing. Content with this, she skipped down the hallway to head to where the two Fenrir nobles were waiting. The courtyard just behind the palace was currently alive with the sound of animals and rushing water that flowed from fountain heads that were shaped like wolves. Two Wolflian girls waited at the center, and upon spotting them Melilei bounded towards them with a grin.

"Ah, there you are." One of them, who sported a short white bobcut with parted bangs greeted her. Her brilliant blue armor seemed to sparkle in the light of the courtyard and Melilei nodded as she came to a stop before them.

"He'll be right out." Her response elicited a chuckle from the girl with long blue hair, Renne, as she looked to her sister Celeste.

"She says that, but I know him better than that. He'll take a while to get ready." She told her in a soft tone as she crossed an arm under her chest. Celeste just shrugged with a smirk while Melilei approached the younger noble with a knowing look.

"I guess it's fitting that he's the guy you like, huh?" Her words earned a slightly flushed look from Renne who laughed nervously as she let those words sink in. 

"A-ah, yeah. I guess so." She said in a timid voice that betrayed the usual calm she spoke in, and turned her eyes elsewhere. The guy she liked huh? It was true. She couldn't lie to herself anymore, or rather there wasn't any more excuses she could make. The princess of Fenrir had fallen in love with the boy that was her personal knight, and she was prepared to tell him that once he came to the courtyard. The mere thought filled her stomach with butterflies and her heartbeat quicken. Though it was nerve wracking, there would be no more putting it off.

The news she had to tell him. It was the best news in her life.


Aaa thanks for this thread. Needed to get some ideas out for my sci-fi story so this def helped :D

He hadn’t thought of it in years.

No, that wasn’t entirely honest. It haunted him in the subtext of his dreams, inserted itself as metaphors and bizarre themes that he would forget soon after waking. But the impact of those dreams left a residue on his psyche, in the form of trembling hands, of quickened breath, and he could never parse why.

As his ansible continued to ping on his wrist, it brought it all back, gave meaning to those early morning panic attacks.

It was that thing. The Ecclesiastical. If anything remotely intelligent controlled the universe, Kessler was sure it got a laugh at the name of that ship, and the eldritch payload it had been carrying. The thing he and the cop quietly guided into a nearby star, the dead ship it’s final resting place.

But no – surely it was done, obliterated from existence and melted in the heart of that star.

Kessler exhaled, tapping the ansible to accept the call. A hiss of static denoted the connection was made from many light years away. He found himself unable to speak.

“Hello? Kessler?”

Let silence answer that question and let it die. Let it die and forget, this was never something for you to handle. His mind clamored, trying to rearrange his thoughts, attempting to form words. Fuck, the voice on the other end of the line sounded like that damn cop.

“Yes.” He answered in a voice that he could scarcely hear. “Yes.” More firmly. Make up that confidence, put on a façade. “I’m assuming you aren’t calling me, years later, for a simple chit chat?”

“I never thought I would use your contact ID.” It reassured him somewhat, that the cop sounded as baffled as he did. 

“How secure is this channel?” Kessler asked, suddenly paranoid that someone had to be tapping into this, someone somehow knew this connection was too far apart to be anything casual.

“I’m on a non-tracer. We’re outside of all channels, except for yours.”

“So not a simple chit chat."


Kessler leaned back into the pilot’s chair, the micromemory foam molding to every dip and curve of his body. Maybe he would just continue flying until the fuel ran out. That would be nice. 

 Sirius. The detective's name came back to him with a rush of clarity.  Kessler grinned  in spite of everything. So many puns had spawned from that name.

“I’m going to make this short.” Sirius said.  “An AI monitoring the star reported a significant fluctuation on its energy readings.”

Kessler’s stomach dropped, shattering his momentary amusement. “The one—that star?”

“Yes.” Sirius replied in a drawl tone. “Human, I won’t sugar coat this for you. The star disappeared from every visible and non-visible spectrum. I don’t know what was on that ship. I don’t want to know. I kept my word. I need you to keep yours.”

The static faded away, the silence of the cabin pressed upon him on all sides. His deliverer of great news had killed the connection and severed his involvement with the simple press of a button.

Kessler wasn’t going to let him go that easily.


“Yes, sir?” the ship’s AI spoke to him as if he hadn’t been eavesdropping on the entire conversation.

“Change of course, we’re going to Herschel.”

“Sir, a diversion to Herschel will cost us six solar days, five hours and—”

“Doesn’t matter. Do it.”

He didn’t know why he was doing it. What was this going to accomplish? But there was one thing he did know. 

There was no way in hell he was confronting this alone.

César Gif

This prompt is pretty interesting and i wanted to type something to César, since it fits his character a lot. It also makes me think of him as a child, so it's gonna be fun! I never wrote something too deep for my anthro characters so thank you for this thread!

It was a really comfy afternoon. The weather was fine, with a calm rain, one of those rain that it's amazing to sleep while listening to it. And César was doing exactly it: Taking a nap, enjoying the good weather. Except he couldn't hear the rain, of course. César was a deaf kid, living in an orphanage that was too poor to keep their own children in good shape, so César was a skinny little guy, with big big ears. Of course, kids loved to make fun of the people who wasn't on the "normal list", and César was the target of bullying and bad jokes. But César really didn't mind it. He never knew how to communicate with others, since at the time he didn't knew sign language, so having an "interaction" with other kids made he feel included, which was sad. Being the joke of the other kids just to feel included was sad, and his own way of living in the orphanage.

Of course he never expected to be adopted. He sure was naive, but César wasn't stupid. All the children he saw being adopted were normal looking children, and usually younger than him. He already expected that no one would want to adopt him, but it didn't stop him from dreaming about being in a big family, surrounded by loving people. And it was exactly what he was dreaming while sleeping in the afternoon. 

His sleep, however, was interrupted by a not so gentle touch on his shoulder, trying to wake him up. César woke up a little startled, and looked at the person who woke him up. It was one of the housekeepers of the orphanage, who made him get out of bed and put him on some nice clothes. Of course, César was really confused. It's not everyday that the housekeeper actually cares about what he wears or not. After putting on some nicer clothes, César was pushed to the main hall of the orphanage, where a big woman was waiting with her arms crossed. After taking a good look at César, she said "Yes, I'm taking it."

César knew how to read lips. And he had a little bit of a problem understanding what the woman said. Not because he couldn't read it, but what was "it". Was she talking about César? What was happening? After some paperwork César was once again pushed to the big woman, who called herself mama. She was an coyote hybrid that looked more human than hybrid, but César felt a comforting feeling to be with an hybrid family.

César then got in mama's car and was ready to go to his new home. Mama didn't said a word the whole time, and César thought it was because she was too focused driving, or was just nervous. But he soon found out that mama wasn't actually family. The house was kinda old and some of the windows were broken. Entering the house, his wishes to have tons of brothers came true, but not the way he wanted. Mama had several children, some sitting on the floor, working on sewing and making pieces of clothes. As said before, César wasn't stupid. He immediately knew the purpose of him being there. 

It was the same thing as the orphanage. The normal kids enjoyed picking on César, and of course, he was used to it. He then went to learn sewing with one of the olders sisters, Maya. She was kind and liked to take care of the other children, the true "mom" they needed. Maya taught César how to sew, knit, and to make clothes. It was his work, but Maya made César actually like to knit and sew. It made his time on mama's house a little less horrible.

César honestly should have seen that coming. "Big news" for him would often turn into unfortunate events.