Every light fantasy story needs
a talking teacup that gives terrible advice
a forest that hums lullabies
a bakery that bakes memories into tea cakes
a prince who turns into a frog on purpose
a moonbeam that you can fold into origami
a pond that reflects your happiest memories
a rainbow that you can climb into the clouds
a scarf that changes colour based on nearby magic
a rocking chair that tells stories from your childhood
a bookshop where book characters sometimes step out for a cuppa
a sleepy coastal town where the sea leaves gifts on your doorstep
Every dark fantasy story needs
a cloak that hides your emotions, not your body
a library where the books whisper secrets and the bookshelves reassemble themselves into a maze the more you want to seek a book
a map that leads you to a different foe every time
a lantern that only lights when someone tells the truth
a door that only opens if you promise never to return
a throne that turns its user into what the kingdom truly deserves
a river that flows with memories instead of water
a sword that hungers, not for blood, but for guilt
a child’s lullaby that summons something watching from the woods
Every academia story needs
all nighters fuelled by caffeine
a rumour about a professor who disappeared halfway through a semester
fighting for the last copy of a textbook
racing each other to find the best supervisor
verbal sparring on question sets
whispered debates in libraries
a mentor who’s either wildly inspiring or borderline unhinged
one student who always sits in the same spot until one day, they don’t
a group project that goes horrifically wrong
philosophising at 3 a.m. in corridors and staircases
the sudden realisation you’ve been working in the library for 12 hours straight and haven’t eaten
a changing quote written daily on the whiteboard that no one claims
Every romance story needs
a lapse of judgement, then an apology
a pet that goes astray--they go find it together
a shared umbrella in the rain
an fight in a kitchen that turns into dancing
a letter never meant to be opened--but it is
a late-night walk where neither wants to say goodbye
a borrowed sweater that still smells like them
a plant they raise together
a reunion at a train station or airport terminal
Every horror story needs
the ghost of your enemy
bloody footprints that lead into a desolate building
a voice that mimics your own, but whispers from another room
a knock at the door when no one should know you’re there
a journal that ends mid-sentence
a smell of rot with no source
a shadow that lingers long after the person is gone
a warning scrawled on the ceiling in your own handwriting
a room that’s colder than the rest of the house, no matter the season
Every historical story needs
a letter that never reached its destination, until now
a secret stitched into the lining of a coat
a forbidden romance
a family heirloom with a history only the family knows about
a moment where history happens in the background while the characters live their quiet lives
an encounter with a real historical figure
an ordinary object that survives through generations
a meal shared between enemies during a truce
