Anthology of Lost Motivation

A collection of stories that were never quite completed for one reason or another

Snap.

Written by Wolsal

October, 2024

Snap.

If they didn’t know any better, they would think they could hear the sound.

In front of them stood a [DMNLHTRTWBH], a small creature bundled up in their arms. They stood at their door, looking at them expectantly.
They felt their eyes twitch as they stared on at the tiny pink baby wrapped up in a blanket, elongated snout with whiskers shooting out in every direction, rounded folded down ears and closed eyes.

Standing behind the [DMNLHTRTWBH] was a cream colored cat adorned in flowery garments, huge pink eyes looking up at them. And stood just off behind them, gathered in the temple at the bottom of the stairs, was everyone else.

“Rat- I mean, Ratil, good morning! We all came as soon as we could, we had to share the good news-!” [DMNLHTRTWBH] spoke, uncharacteristically excited sounding.

In that moment of time, something in them broke, a tether pulled so tight, fraying away and growing thinner and thinner, wearing weaker and weaker. 

That something in them snapped.

“What.” One simple word, spoken in a shake, a word that in any other situation wouldn’t elicit more than a half hearted reply. They watched in real time as shock fell onto everyone's faces, contorting their placid faces into ones of utter bewilderment.
“What is this…” Their voice shook, tears building in their eyes as they took a step back, eyes locked onto the many figures in front of them.
They dug their small nails into the wooden frame of the door as they felt the tears begin to spill down their face. 

They watched as the bug's mouth opened, trying to find the words. They held up a pawed hand. “Don’t.” They hissed, glaring at them. “Leave.” They spoke, trying to stop their voice from cracking.

“Ratil, listen, we just-” A spindly kytenous hand falling on their shoulder, making them flinch away, stepping further in. “I SAID LEAVE.” The rat growled, shoving their hand away. Tears continued to spill down their face, dripping onto the floor.

Kali Fight

Written by Wolsal

December, 2024

Chaos. That was the only word that could truly describe the carnage- sheer, unadulterated, chaos.

The 5 warriors darted around the arena, all fighting a common enemy. Piercing, blue eyes bore into the combatants, pitch black plumage seeming to not only absorb, but consume the light that hit them.

The shing of a dagger slicing against flesh rung in his ears… or maybe it was rushing of his own blood. He couldn’t tell- he didn’t care to tell. Another summoned enemy fell- he had to get to them 

His hooves clopped rapidly against the concrete brick floors, moving swiftly and quickly to where he saw his companion. The [DMNLHTRTWBH] was in a duel with the large vulture, the other 3 busy fending off summoned plumed enemies. 

He watched as they effortlessly bore their long curved blades, smashing against oncoming flurries from the enemy herself. Weapons floated and moved in front of her, keeping she herself safe and sound from the [DMNLHTRTWBH]. 

At a glance, you may assume these were simply autonomous weapons- perhaps they had invisible wielders. 

But no, it was none of those things. Upon more than a cursory look, you could see the almost glowing blue fog that seemed to bend around the weapons, glistening and shimmering in the light. 

The source was clear- the crown. A foreboding awful thing, granting the wearer near limitless powers. The fog trailed up to the strange eyed headpiece, eye fixed on the smaller enemy.

The loud piercing sounds of metal hitting metal invaded his ears, an uncomfortable sound at best and a deadly distraction at worst. Yells and curses bounced around the circular walls of the room, disorienting him as he calculated his next move.

The smallest combatant, a grey goat with soft hazel eyes darted forwards, holding out his weapon. He managed to jam it into the heinous bird's leg, so much going on that she didn’t even notice his presence.

Pit

Written by Wolsal

September, 2025

CONTENT WARNING(S): Panic attacks, grief, implied character death mentioned

It was so quiet. He couldn’t remember the last time it had been this quiet.

Solomon stared at the wall he faced, eye unfocused as he spaced out. All the windows had been curtained off, only the slightest bit of light illuminated the room. 

He felt himself draw in one tentative breath after the other- the pit in his stomach only growing. He noted the familiar unwelcome intrusion of tears in his eye, though he made no sound. Every few moments he'd need to remind himself to continue drawing in breath, else he’d hold it without even registering he was doing so.

Keith had left to pick up some supplies the pair needed- though Solomon couldn’t accompany him. He let out a choked growl, gritting his teeth as he tried to will away the tears in his eyes. He rolled over- trying to take his mind off of things.

As he looked at the other side of the room, he saw Keith’s belongings strewn around, a few notes haphazardly pinned to the wall with reminders that Keith had scrawled on. He also saw a few belongings in a neat pile on the desk that sat parallel to their bed. Some clothes, a few knick-knacks, and the thing that sent him over the edge- a stack of worn paper with borderline incoherent writing. The paper on top a letter Wolperlope had written to Solomon.

He let out a guttural sob, more quickly following as his face scrunched up- wrought with emotions gripping him so tight it felt like he was suffocating. He buried his face into the blanket wrapped around him- stifling his sobs in the soft fabric. 

He heard a soft creak as the door opened- he didn’t bother lifting his head up to look, he knew it was him. He heard several items being set down on the ground, followed by the sound of the door shutting and anxious footsteps approaching him.

“Sol?” A gentle yet concerned voice said, Keith leaning down to better see his partner. Solomon lifted his head up just enough to peer at him- though his vision was blurred from tears he could still see the concern on Keith’s face. He always tried to hide it, but he didn’t do a very good job at it. 

Keith sat down next to him on the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey… it’s ok- I’m here…” He spoke softly, moving his hand to gently rest on his head. He ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

Solomon sobbed quietly, he didn’t need to say or explain anything. Keith knew what was wrong. He leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. Keith leant against the backboard of their bed, carefully lifting Solomon up and holding him close. 

Death won't reap

Written by Wolsal

January, 2026

CONTENT WARNING(S): Near death, grotesque injuries

It was cold. While the air surrounding the clearing buffeted its occupants with a gentle warm breeze, it felt so, so cold. Worn mossy bricks still damp from rainfall that had yet to clear from the lichen coated ground soaked into his fur- burrowing to his skin like needles of ice.

A shuttered and wheezy breath emanated from the grey heap of fur piled on the ground- tight metal chains dug into his flesh and rubbed away at raw skin. The blood hadn’t yet dried from the fight, nor had it stopped flowing from him in iridescent rivers of ichor. 

Soft, delicate footsteps approached the crumpled body that was seemingly a bad gust of wind away from breaking into pieces. A breath hitched, 4 orange eyes locking onto the once familiar goat.

Nymph stood, staring for a few moments in contemplative horror. Solomon was… dying. He was dying? Was he dying…? He stepped closer, trying not to focus so much on the small withering green light that appeared to be seconds away from burning out. 

Focus. Focus. The burning pain in his hands yanked his attention away from his injured friend, making him grit his teeth and pause for a moment before returning his attention to the goat.

He knelt down next to the near motionless body of his fallen friend, watching in hollow silence as his chest struggled to rise and fall as he took in breath. 

He cautiously and gingerly reached out a hand, suppressing the urge to retch at the sight of his own furless, cauterised hands. He placed his palm on the shoulder of the seemingly unconscious man, waiting for a moment to see if he’d elicit any form of response…

Nothing. His eyes didn’t even flutter, not so much as a groan or change of expression.

“Solomon-” He choked out, throat suddenly going dry as he stared down. Wrong- this was wrong- a cruel, cruel joke perhaps. But this couldn’t be real…

The longer he stared at the body, the more the silent panic creeped in. His eyes strayed to see the many gashes strewn across his body, skin forced to part and reveal the muscle and fat that too had been torn up by the claws, blades, and swords turned against him no more than an hour ago. He felt bile rising in his throat at the sickening sight, fighting the urge to turn around and release the contents of his stomach onto the grass.

Fuck- fuck. He had to do something- he had to help, to get somewhere safe, to stop the time from ticking on his friend’s clock. He couldn’t- there was nobody to help- nobody except for him. 

He looked around for something, anything he could use to help. He was met with nothing. Looking down he spotted a partly torn piece of his cloak. He steeled himself for what he knew he had to do- reaching his shaking, bloodied hands towards the edge of the cloth that enshrouded his shoulders. Doing his best to ignore the screaming pain from his hands as he gripped the fabric, he tore a strip of it off.

And another. And another. He fought through the excruciating pain as he tore more and more fabric away from the cloth until he was left with a small pile of fabric strips. 

Nymph paused, taking in a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He couldn’t even feel anything touching his hands anymore- all he could feel was the consuming fiery pain eating and biting at his nerves. 

Stealing himself once more, he reached a hand out, placing a curled fingered knuckle underneath Solomon’s chin, carefully tilting it up to attempt at a better look of any neck and shoulder injuries. 

(un)Welcome home

Written by Wolsal

January, 2026

Keith slowly creaked open the door to his cabin, careful not to disturb the other occupant with his arrival. He peeked his head in- all the windows had the blinds pulled over them, none of the lights turned on nor candles lit.

Solomon was sitting on the bed- tensed up and glaring at the unwanted intruder. His hands were shackled in front of him- secured to the metal bed frame. It wasn’t exactly the greatest solution to preventing him from escaping or maiming anyone, but it’d have to do for now. 

Keith stared back at the pair of green eyes glaring at him from the dark. He placed down a wooden bowl onto the countertops, shutting and locking the door behind him. He reached for the lamp by the door- switching it on to illuminate the shadowed room. Solomon was hunched over- tail swishing side to side in anger.

 Keith cleared his throat, taking a cautious step towards him. “So…” He paused, unsure of what to actually say to him. “How… was your day?” He asked, already knowing the question was useless. 

Solomon shrunk away as Keith drew closer, fur starting to bristle. “Fuck off-” Solomon snarled back in response. Keith raised his hands up in surrender- not moving closer. “I live here- I have to come back eventually.” He spoke calmly in an attempt to assuage him. “I won’t touch you, I just wanna be in my bed.” 

“Well I was here first, so fuck off.” Solomon bit back without giving a moment to consider his words.

 Keith sighed, pulling out the chair from his desk. Taking a seat, he turned to face the goat sitting on his bed. “Alright, I’ll just sit here.” He idly tapped his claws on the arm of the chair. 

“Do you need anything? I can get you food- or some fresh clothes, your bandages probably need replacing.” Keith said- half offering to Solomon and half thinking aloud. Solomon didn’t respond- only keeping his glare on Keith.

The truth was, he actually was pretty hungry and could do with a drink of water. And fresh clothes didn’t sound all that bad… but no. No, he couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t let him- wouldn’t let anyone win. Even if that meant starving himself and sitting in old bandages.

Keith sighed, frowning. “Sam– Solomon, you haven’t eaten anything all day. Will you please just… try eating something?” Keith tried not to make it too obvious how aware he was of Solomon’s gaunt, frail appearance. It had been a long time, but he remembered what Solomon looked like once-upon-a-time. He knew that wherever Solomon had been sent all those years ago had done a number on him. He could see it, even if he refused to speak about it. 

Untitled Solokeith fic

Written by Wolsal

February, 2026

It was late- though the summer sun was yet to complete its travel to below the skyline, night was beginning to creep into the lively village, bringing with it reprieve from the blistering heat of the day. 

Keith was arriving home at last, having gone to gather some supplies he knew needed restocking and getting caught up in conversations and chores the village needed done. 

He was just relieved he could finally get home- though a part of him dreaded it. 

He knew Solomon had been sent back to their home no more than an hour ago for getting in a drunken barfight with a random civilian- not an all-that uncommon occurrence since he’d arrived 6 months ago, and he knew what to expect.

Keith knocked on the door once before pushing it open- Solomon never remembered to lock the door, nor did he ever bother to answer it either. 

He set his belongings down on the countertops nearest to the door, pushing it shut with his foot as his eyes adjusted to the dark of the room. “I’m home for the night-” he announced, looking around. 

Initially he didn’t see Solomon- thinking he may have simply snuck back out or gone to barricade himself in the bathroom again. It didn’t take long however for him to catch sight of the goat, seeing him already curled up in bed. He rolled over, blinking a few times at Keith from where he lay.

“What’re you doin’ here-” Solomon grumbled out, words notably somewhat slurred and groggy. 

“I live here.” Keith responded rather matter-of-factly, turning to open his closet and retrieve a night shirt. He was quick to replace his work shirt for the more comfy loungewear- tossing the dirty shirt in the general direction of the clothes hamper. He yawned, rubbing his eyes as he strode towards the bed.

Solomon reluctantly shuffled over so Keith would be able to fit in the bed- a routine he’d grown accustomed to at that point. 

The fic where Solomon falls

Written by Wolsal

February, 2026

Keith traipsed back to his cabin, coming back for a break after having worked in the blistering sun. A break might be a bit of an exaggeration given he’d have to manage Solomon- though things had improved between them. I mean, they weren’t exactly good per-se, but after almost 2 months of co-habitation Keith could enter his house without enraging Solomon.  

As he reached the door, he knocked several times. He waited for a response from the other side to indicate he was good to come in, however he received nothing. 

He reached out and knocked again. “Solomon?” He called out, sighing in annoyance. Still nothing. He waited a few more moments.

 “I’m coming in, alright?” He announced, grabbing and twisting the door handle. He attempted to open the door- it wasn’t locked, however it bumped into something almost immediately that prevented it from opening. He must’ve barricaded the door again.

Keith groaned, just wanting to get inside. He opened the door harder in an attempt to shove whatever it was blocking him out of the way. 

As the door made contact once more with the blockage Keith heard a quiet groan from the other side. His heart sank, quickly abandoning the idea of opening the door, pulling it shut and rushing to the window. The curtains were pulled shut, however he knew it should be unlocked. He hoisted the window open, shoving the curtains aside and climbing in.

Immediately upon entering his eyes fell onto the “object” that was blocking the door. It was Solomon- sprawled out face first on the ground with the desk chair clattered on the ground.

“Shit-!” Keith cursed, rushing over to his side and kneeling down. “Hey- Solomon-” He spoke hurriedly, hand hovering above his shoulder. He received no reply. He very carefully placed his hand down on his shoulder- hoping to elicit a response. Nothing. Keith was starting to panic- he was never able to touch him. He hated it- and so he never did. 

He quickly placed his free hand on his other shoulder, rolling him over onto his back. It was immediately clear what the problem was. He had a large, bloodied bruise on his forehead and was clearly not conscious. 

He shook him by the shoulders in panic, grip tightening. “Please wake up- come on-” His voice shook 

Mourn

Written by Wolsal

May, 2026

It felt cold. 

Not quite cold- maybe numb is a better word. Though numb would imply a lack of feeling, right? Then why did he feel so much?

The world felt heavy. Suddenly so big and obtrusive, and he was so small. He sharply inhaled, the back of his palate stung as a lump formed in his throat. He shuffled his legs closer to himself- hugging his knees to his chest as he bit back the sobs he knew were coming. Fuck.

The wounds on his back, chest, and legs hurt like no other- constricting tightly on his flesh and keeping him locked in as tiny a shape as he could to avoid stretching the burns further. He didn’t want to keep crying- he didn’t know if he even could. He was pretty sure he had no water in him left to even cry out- his dry mouth and eyes told him as much.

He looked around for the millionth time- rocky hollows and thickets staring back at him. The jagged stone felt rough against his back, digging into his charred pelt. He shivered.

He was alone. He’d never been this alone before. His whole life he was 

A King Opened His Eyes

Written by Wolsal

May, 2026

Quick footsteps ran down the hall, a heavy hand planted on the handle to the large opulent door to the throne room. In a quick motion the door was thrown open, startling the sole occupant.

“Sir-“

“Yes, you have my attention.” 

“There was someone trying to break into your quarters, my lord.”

Solomon raised an eyebrow, shifting in his seat and adjusting his robes. “And you detained them?”

“Well, yes we did but-“

“I’m not sure how you want me to assist you further.” Solomon sighed, a hint of annoyance sneaking into his tired voice- hazel eyes flecked with bright green glowered down at the guard that stood by the steps of his throne.

The guard shuffled nervously under his gaze, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry sir, please forgive my intrusion- I just think you… you may want to see who tried breaking in.”

Solomon shot her a skeptical look, sighing and tapping his claws on the arm of the chair. “And why would that be?”

“She says she knows yo-“ “And you believed her?” 

Solomon interrupted almost indignantly before pausing. He took a deep breath.

 “...My apologies for snapping, Chi. Why did you believe her?”

“I… think you should see for yourself sir…” The guard half-mumbled, seeming hesitant to say more. The goat paused, analysing the lone guard before sighing. 

“Alright, bring her in.” He spoke softer, giving her a nod,

“Right away.” The guard nodded, quick to duck away through the partially opened door.

There was the distant sound of muffled voices and scuffling footsteps drawing closer, 3 distinct sets of feet audibly echoing through the hall. 

Solomon fucking dies (TSWH)

Written by Wolsal

May, 2026

CONTENT WARNING(S): Would have written about Solomon dying but I gave up way too fast

(Opening scene of everyone walking in)

Keith rushed over to the crumpled form on the steps- worry quickly making its presence known as he knelt down. He reached down a shaky hand to rest on his shoulder

He was freezing cold. Not just a bit cold, he was cold as a corpse. Keith felt the blood drain from his face. No- no no no-

He shook him in an attempt to elicit a response, his heart squeezed itself as his panic began to rise. 

“Solomon- wake up- c’mon…” He spoke softly, grip tightening on his shoulder as he received no response. He waited a few more moments, steeling himself before carefully placing his other hand on him.