gay gay homosexual gay

Writing pretty much whatever, whenever. I’ve moved to A03 but I still post short stories

[crow-writes-things]

Introduction, but updated!

Hello everybody! I have finally found the courage to make this account public. This exists because I am too embarrassed to post on main my shitty writing attempts. Sleep deprived posts included. Have fun ;)

Btw you're allowed, no, encouraged to give writing prompts 

[crow-writes-things]

GRAAAAAHHH I LOVE WEAPONSSSS

While she mostly defaulted to swords, rapiers were definitely her second choice. She love the speed it gave her, although due to her style of fighting, it was exhausting to use for very long. There was the greatsword, but that was the exact opposite problem. She loved the power it gave her when she swung it, but it weighed her down and made her sluggish and slow. It didn’t help that she kept overestimating it’s range, either. There was the kusarigama, oh that thing. She adored it so much, swinging it around was just so fun. But there was never enough space to use it to its fullest potential without it bouncing off a wall and smashing right back into her face. (That was NOT how she lost her right eye, that was there since before she got brought here)

[crow-writes-things]

Dumb love song thingy I thought of in the shower

I used to be tough, I used to be mean,

But when I’m with you, I’m soft and sweet

Melted like a marshmallow

Underneath your heat

And I hate that I’m this gushy

So I say that I hate you, and push you away

But when I see you

I’m happy you’re okay

[crow-writes-things]

This felt too short to put on my AO3 so it gets to go here instead yippie!

Warning for decapitation

If it wasn't for the fact she was stuck in place, she'd have fallen to her knees already. She couldn't even pinch herself awake, her hands too far from her face to even try. All she could really do was crane her head to stare at the blade hanging above her. It looked like it had been recently cleaned, polished to perfection.

It had not, however, been sharpened.

A spotlight shone down onto Urotsuki, along with some loud fanfare like this was just a show. The crowd cheered loudly, throwing insults at her all the while. Urotsuki tried not to sob, but tears fell anyway, and the crowd seemed to adore that fact.

The blade rose higher.

"Please..." Urotsuki doesn't remember the last time she's spoken in a dream before.

C H O P

[gummybugg-deactivated20251021]

Calling All Tag-Friendly Writeblrs

Do you like Writing? Do you like Games?

Interact with this so that I can add you to my Mental List of writeblrs to tag in fun writing games! 

[crow-writes-things]

Meat room meat room

Tw for gore (I mean it’s literally called the meat room)

I can’t use readmores on mobile so if any of this freaks you out, speed past this pls

This is not as crackfic-esqe as I make it sound

Inspired by Dream World on Roblox which is inspired by Yume Nikki which is inspired by- I’m gonna stop now

You wake up.

You are in your room.

You are not in your room. It can’t be.

The walls pulse. You can hear a loud, rhythmic sound. A heartbeat. You cautiously slide out of bed.

Your shoes squish disgustingly on the floor. It looks like wood. It moves like flesh. You walk out of your room and into the living room.

It’s the same. Everything is the same except for the walls and floors.

You turn the tv on. It’s just red static. You switch it back off and move over to your door. You haven’t been able to open it for god knows how long.

As soon as you turn the handle, a piercing screech comes out of nowhere. It’s so loud that you instantly release the handle to clutch your ears.

It stops as soon as you let go. You glance around your apartment, but it’s only you.

And the heartbeat.

You check the balcony. Normally, it’s too high up for you to escape without breaking quite a few bones at best.

The sky is red. Slowly dimming and brightening in time of the heartbeat.

Nothing has really changed.

So you walk back to your room and slide under your covers.

The dull thumping heartbeat is surprisingly soothing, and you quickly return to your dreams.

Back to the Nexus, stranger?

[crow-writes-things]

Summary: You, a cat who has recently died, are bored. So, with nothing to do, you wander around and start interviewing cats. 

Fandom: Warrior cats 

No title because I couldn't think of a good one-

Will probably be multi-part 

No canon characters are mentioned. You’ll be talking to mostly Dappleclan cats, and a few Glowclan ones too.

You are bored. Tired of the plentiful prey, constant warm sunlight, and other things. So, you’ve decided to wander around and go talk to other cats.

You see a Siamese cat, causally talking to a friend of his it seems. They look like a good start. 

“Hey there bud, what are you up to?” the she-cat speaks first, very confident.

“And interview, hmmm? Well, I'm not too interesting myself, but maybe Tornstar could indulge you? He’s quite the persistent fellow, but not much of a talker really, so you'll have to make it snappy.” she replies, gesturing the other cat over before getting up to leave.

“You two have fun! Oh, and by the way, I’m Mistlechasm!” she shouts back at you.

“....I suppose we should start at the beginning?” Tornstar asks. His voice is harsh and raspy.

“Well, when I was a kit, I got washed out to sea. I survived, but I ended up inhaling a lotta seawater. Wasn’t really good for my lungs. Left me with a raspy voice and a horrible immune system. I tended to get sick a whole bunch. Couldn't even go out half the time. Silverfoam would fret over me all day like a worried mother hen. Even with that, I still caught whitecough and greencough practically every moon. Not a fun time, I'll say that much. But I persisted, and that got me a spot as Bristlestar’s deputy. She was a good leader, but even good cats die. So, I took over. Got a mate, Lynxpatch. Had a good life. Then.... A dog got me. Anti-climactic, I know. I don’t think I can tell you anymore, my throats kinda hurtin. Go talk to Melonshade and if you're lookin’ for a real heart-wrencher.” Tornstar rubs at his throat before wandering off to go lie in the sun.

[crow-writes-things]

Warning call

Lightkit meets someone who gives him a very, very important lesson.

Characters: Lightkit (white and ginger tom), Shrewkit (grey tabby Tom), and Daystar (brown tabby she-cat, only mentioned) 

Fandom: Warrior cats

Extra: This is a made up clan called Glowclan, and basically a small drabble I wanted to write. Doesn't really have a plot, but will definitely have a lasting effect on Lightkit, aka Lightbreeze!

“Hey! Hey you!” 

Lightkit jumped, whipping around, fearful of getting chewed out by Daystar AGAIN for trying to sneak out. He really had no idea why she was so tough on him for that.

It was another kit, but not one he recognized. He was a grey tabby, with sparkling blue eyes, and looked to be a lot younger than Lightkit. He seemed... Concerned.

“Who are you?” 

“‘m Shrewkit. You probably don’t know me.” He casually said, before quickly speaking again, leaving no time for Lightkit to even try questioning him.

“You can’t go out there ‘till you're a ‘paw. It’s dangerous. You can... You know.... Die.” He made a motion with his paw, sticking his tounge out, eyes rolling upward. Lightkit gave him a confused, yet defiant look.

“How would you know? And why should I trust you?” He asked. Shrewkit shook his head and looked at the other kit, smiling nervously as he spoke.

“‘cause that’s how I died.” 

[crow-writes-things]

Funny new wof oc :) 

She did not want to be here. It was loud, there was too many dragons, and most importantly, she stuck out like a sore thumb. She’d much rather be in her “room” making a new spear or chestplate than sitting here at ANOTHER one of Queen Scarlet’s parties. But it wasn’t like she had a choice. 

She just wished she looked less like a Nightwing and more like a Skywing. But she was no Rainwing, and couldn't change her scales. 

She decided to focus on something OTHER than how other dragons were probably gawking at her, deciding to just focus on herself instead. Like a true Skywing.

First of all, her name was Silverdusk. A little ironic, actually.

Second of all, she was a Nightwing Skywing hybrid.

Her scales were mostly black, except for her wing membranes, which were a rather pretty shade of orange that slowly faded into a light yellow the farther down they went. She didn't have the little spots that most Nightwings had, or maybe she did, and they just blended in. Her belly was the same color, becoming lighter the farther down, and her body was a bit slim, but otherwise she didn't really have any more Skywing-esqe parts. There was also the small teardrop marking she had next to both eyes. She messed with the bracelet on her right arm. It was rather thick, made of gold, with a red gemstone in the center. Scarlet had demanded that she make it at least look a LITTLE nice. The bracelet itself was actually enchanted, making her entirely fireproof, and it was also essentially unbreakable, or at the very least it was very, very difficult to do so. The fireproofing was important for her line of work as a blacksmith, meaning she could work faster without needing to worry about getting scalded. But other than that, it didn't really mean anything, other than being able to actually make contact with that little dragonet Scarlet had started keeping around. Her “future champion”, or something.

She... Sort of had powers? She could mind read, but it took a lot of energy, unlike other Nightwings, who presumably (she never actually knew one long enough to confirm) could do it with ease, and even needed to learn how to block it out.

She glanced around again, not really having anything else to think about. There! An opening to escape! She slunk out of the room, now thankful for her dark scales. Off to doing what she SHOULD'VE been doing in the first place, which was making weapons.

[crow-writes-things]

Closing Shift: A game that never will exist.

Your name is Kit. You are a sleek, bipedal black cat with piercing green eyes. You are slightly taller than average. You wear a white, skintight catsuit with a blue line on each side, as does the rest of your team.

You are the group leader of what is called the Extermination Team. Your job is to kill Meatlings, blobs of writhing flesh that swarm the lab, trying to get in. You’ve had this job for as long as you can remember.

You don't hate your job, but you don’t find any glee in destroying these creatures like some of your colleagues do. Despite not liking to talk, you feel a sense of... Connection with your team. They are like family. An occasionally sadistic, bloody, family.

You don’t remember your real family. You just know that whenever you think about them, your throat tightens and your stomach heaves with wrath and hatred.

[crow-writes-things]

Trying to make an scp because why not

Most of the time I just redact the numbers because I have no idea what to put, but this time I checked the wiki and figured out I can use numbers higher than 8000. Not good with this kind of stuff so sorry if it’s bad

SCP- 8063 “The Announcer” 

Cognitohazard

Euclid 

SCP- 8063 is a female humonoid entity, with a height of around 6 feet, 9 inches. It has pale skin, black hair, and yellow eyes. SCP-8063 wears what appears to be a standard work shirt and pants, with a labcoat and a pair of glasses. It is unknown if it actually requires these glasses to see. SCP-8063 is relatively friendly with staff, though it does express slight annoyance at being contained.

SCP- 8063 has the ability to mimic any sound, from any source. It appears to prefer female voices. SCP- 8063′s voice also has the ability to “sway” any listener into a state of compliance. SCP- 8063 has countered that yes, while their mental state is swayed, they are still fully capable of refusing what it asks of them.

Incident:

SCP- 8063 managed to escape containment with a stolen keycard and wandered the halls for several hours. It was later found in the cafeteria, curiously investigating SCP- 294. Multiple empty cups were found on the floor, suggesting that it’d been testing just what SCP- 294 could do. The cup in SCP- 8063′s hand was found to be blood and other body tissues, with most of it already having been drunk.

Incident:

During an interview with Dr. [REDACTED] SCP- 8063 flew into a rage and began killing anything that moved. Long fleshy tendrils with sharp tips appeared to burst from its back, which it then used to dismember anything in its path. SCP- 8063 was found later in a storage room, fleshy webbing connecting it to the walls as it stared blankly. Once the webbing was severed, SCP- 8063 apologized sincerely for its outburst, and returned to its cell, where it then slept for a full two days before awakening and returning to its normal self. It is unknown what exactly caused this rampage, as SCP- 8063 refuses to speak about it, and the recording seems to have been distorted to the point of incomprehension.

Footnotes:

“SCP- 8063 knows a variety of languages, including sign language. Interestingly, the latter does not affect ones mental state in any way. It is advised that all personnel working with SCP- 8063 learn basic sign language.”

[crow-writes-things]

Generic anime title about the Grim reaper being a cute girl who’s also a seamstress here

(This isn’t a fic, just a short thing I wrote. I believe that the people on AO3 call it “a ficlet”) 

“Being a reaper was BOOOORING. You just grab the soul and toss it into a portal. We didn’t even retrieve the souls ourselves anymore. Everyone there is either an angsty teen or a tired adult. But we were kinda born to do this? So, I just snuck out. Started up my own new business out of the kindness of my heart, giving people a second chance in return for servitude, depending on how evil I think they were. I lovingly stitch and sew all the husks by hand, each specifically made to serve a purpose. It’s fun, like, REALLY fun. So, what do ya say? Want another chance? You don't seem that bad, so I'll only keep ya for two years, then you can go.”

[crow-writes-things]

Agoraphobia

Summary: Agoraphobia  (ag-uh-ruh-FOE-be-uh) is a type of anxiety disorder. Agoraphobia involves fearing and avoiding places or situations that might cause panic and feelings of being trapped, helpless or embarrassed.

Fandom: None 

Characters: None mentioned, is in first person 

Notes: I don’t actually suffer from anxiety, but I'm doing my best to try and properly write what an anxiety attack would be like.

This has no plot, it is a writing exercise.

You’re going to die.

You’re going to die.

You are going to die.

No, you aren't. No, you aren’t.

Calm down. Breathe.

You can’t. Your heart is trying to hammer its way out of your chest. Your lungs have forgotten how to work. Your throat is clogged with air, too thick to breathe.

You feel like you’re drowning in molasses, everything slowed down tenfold.

Your vision is just a white blur sometimes, flashes of hot piercing through your ice-cold body.

Stop it.

Stop shaking.

You can’t. You try, but you just. Can’t.

Someone says something. 

When you don’t react, they repeat until it becomes comprehensible.

“Count. Breathe.”

One.

Two. 

Three.

Inhale.

One.

Two.

Three.

Exhale.

You keep repeating that, until you can see again. Time returns to normal. You can breathe again; your heart isn’t trying to escape your body anymore. You're propped up in a bed, someone just barely touching you, awkwardly trying not to lean into you. You sigh, and they lean into you, and you lean into them.

You aren’t going to die.

You never were.

[crow-writes-things]

The Fangtree: What they look like, what they do, and how to avoid them

The Fangtrees are trees that can be found in the Void near the Asylum. They look similar to dead trees, except they have oily black bark, often with large, unhinged jaws full of sharp teeth. The Fangtree will mimic the voice of its last victim in order to draw in more prey, but it does not appear to have any actual sentience, only a simple drive for sustenance. If you hear someone calling from beyond the fence, do not try to go to them. While there is a low chance the tree itself will get you first...

The Cat very much will.

[crow-writes-things]

Voidkin stuff: How they work

Voidkin are creatures that represent not people or things, but concepts, often negative ones, like certain mental illnesses, abuse, trauma, ect. I figured I'd underlay which Voidkin is what, with even some Voidkin you haven't seen yet!

Vincent: The most powerful Voidkin, Vincent represents Self-Hatred itself.

Lilac: The sister of Vincent and only just barely less powerful, she represents Suicidal Thoughts, specifically ones stemming from believing that one is too horrible to live in this world.

Meatpuppet: Her exact concept is still unknown, but it might be Manipulation, though it’s not known if she’s meant to represent the manipulator or the manipulated.

Piper: Abuse, specifically Psychical Abuse and the affects it has on oneself. He is incredibly violent, to the point even Vincent prefers to stay away.

Bun: The constant pushing to be Perfect, to not Think, to simply be a Doll. To assist, no matter what. Anything less is downright disgusting.

Star and Struck: Survivor’s Guilt, specifically over the Loss of a Loved One, and a Coddled Child Blind to the World.

Rain and Bow: Blissful Ignorance and the Hatred of Everything.

Rose: Extreme Narcissism.

Alice: Misguided Innocence. 

M!ÑK: Insanity Caused by Excessive Repetition. 

[crow-writes-things]

Teach myself complete submission

Summary: Guilt starts setting in, even though she hated him.

Warnings: Dead bodies, body horror, whatever the word for killing your parents is, guilt complex, referenced manipulation and its effects

Fandom: None 

Characters: Vincent, Meatpuppet

Note: I listened to No Wind Resistance while writing this, and the title is a lyric from the song, so yeah. Listen to that for the full effect.

Finally, the hole she dug was refilled. She didn't have to look at it anymore. Just the old TV that sat in his chest, pulsating like a heart remained. Its screen was pitch black, no longer showing the red screen. She’d even tried fiddling with the buttons, but it didn't come back. She set it on the stump, serving as a gravestone. He didn't deserve one. 

At least she thought so.

She leaned on the shovel, its sharp end digging into the soft ground beneath. There were flowers all around. There were flowers everywhere. She didn't know why they suddenly started blooming all over. In hindsight, it made the area around all the prettier.

He would've hated it.

She should destroy them.

But she had no energy. Besides, he was six feet under. It didn't matter.

She hiked the shovel over her shoulder and started walking.

Back to the asylum. 

She’d stop by the pond. See what that headless guy who sat there fishing all day was doing.

She didn't want to think.

Usually, he’d do the thinking for her, dictating who she should kill, at what time, and if she should eat them on the spot or bring him the body.

And she’d do it. Mindlessly. Perfectly.

Any less than perfect and a row of stitches would pop, threatening to turn her to nothing but scraps of meat sliding around in sticky black sludge. He’d always fix them though, apologizing softly. And she’d forgive him.

He was lonely.

That’s why he made her.

A puppet.

A Meatpuppet.

[crow-writes-things]

I’m a doctor, not a dollmaker!

Summary: Meatpuppet’s orgin story! Yay!

Warnings: Gore, body horror, sewing together things that you probably shouldn't, doll made of human flesh, lots of Bad Stuff

Characters: Vincent, Meatpuppet

Fandom: None 

Note: This is all weirdcore. Heed the warnings. The asylum itself is basically made to be as brain-fucky as possible, being built in the Void Realm after all.

Void Juice is basically the innards of a Voidkin, their blood, organs, it’s literally everything. It will also HEAVILY fuck up any human who touches it.

It was difficult to even obtain that much... Resource, considering its extreme rarity making it a delicacy to them. The Voidkin, he means. Not only that, but it was fragile in his hands, could be shredded to bits if he so much as ran a claw down it.

So why had he decided it would be the perfect resource to make a new creature out of?

He wanted to be able to kill it if necessary. A good doll needs stuffing. And he was planning on using Void Juice, specifically his own, to make a Voidkin almost as powerful as him.

It was easier when you had four arms, carefully stitching each piece together, fragment by fragment. He decided to make it animalistic in design, landing on a cat as his preference, due to their apt hunting skills.

The chest lay open still, no stuffing inside. No internal organs. The eyes would form quickly, once it started living.

He’d already prepared the Void Juice, which hurt an extreme amount to yank out of his own body.

And carefully let the pitch-black sludge fill the empty husk, eyes lazily opening and closing inside the goop.

Now, the final stitches.

A paw reached up and tugged on his coat. Its eyes hadn’t formed in their sockets yet, but it could see all the same, staring at him with a mix of curiosity and fear.

“wHø?” it warbled, voice barely even comprehensible.

“VĪNCĒNŤ. CÃLL MË... FATHER.” he responded. The doll, no, puppet, perked up and clung to him in an awkward hug, nearly tipping off of the table. 

What to call her though?

It was a puppet. 

A puppet made of meat.

Meat.

Puppet.

“Meatpuppet.”