sleepycrowkid

[sleepycrowkid]

battered and bruised

[sleepycrowkid]

ermm

[sleepycrowkid]

There is no title.

A short story I wrote based off a picture for my film studies class. There is no title.

No one looked when the sky disappeared. No one noticed when the stars went dark or when the earth flipped on its axis. No one will ever know the void of an empty universe or what a dying star looks like. Or are the stars still there? It was hard to tell. What was left of the world had ripped apart at the seams and restitched itself into what was not. No one looked when the sky looked back.

She didn’t know what it was. Well, maybe she did. At least, she knew as well as anyone—which was none—that it was impossible. The imposter that was not the moon rose and set and illuminated just as the moon once had. She could see it in the corner of her eye. And if so brazen, she could just make out the color of the iris.

The moon wasn’t golden.

The moon didn’t blink.

The moon didn’t have an iris.

Impossibility became reality, and reality was staring right at her. It looked so unmistakably human. Some distant part of her wanted to laugh.

She didn’t know why it watched. What could be so interesting in this little forest anyway? But it was the sky and the sky was the world and the world was left behind. Or was the world the ground? She looked down, and sure enough, she was standing on dirt. It was cold. She was barefoot. A white silken dress, filthy and tattered, brushed against her knees. A breeze softly pulled the fabric, a rustle in the trees somewhere.

Yes, the world had gone to die.

She had seen it happen. The ones who looked. Who stared into the world’s reaper. She saw the funny things it did to them. Unraveled and unmade, rewrote their very being into what was not. It was quiet. It was swift. It was the world unfolding. And then the world was a pine forest road, leading somewhere halfway to obscurity and glory. Saved were those to look away before meeting its gaze, a miracle to those who would look back bleeding. No one looked back at all.

One by one, ebbed into oblivion. They didn’t even realize they were being watched.

And now, when morbid curiosity nipped the heels of her inhibition, she risked a glance at the thing. What did glory look like? Was it golden?

Buzzing.

Static branching out to every nerve, a crown of fractal patterns as the nosebleed starts. Has she always heard the ringing?

It was quiet. It was swift. Glory was a trail of crimson catching on a false moonlit dress.

Somewhere, a dog barked.

There was no dog.

There was no forest.

No one looked when the sky looked back.

If anyone can find the artist of the painting, I’d like to credit them.

[sleepycrowkid]

A short story I wrote based off a picture for my film studies class. There is no title.

No one looked when the sky disappeared. No one noticed when the stars went dark or when the earth flipped on its axis. No one will ever know the void of an empty universe or what a dying star looks like. Or are the stars still there? It was hard to tell. What was left of the world had ripped apart at the seams and restitched itself into what was not. No one looked when the sky looked back.

She didn’t know what it was. Well, maybe she did. At least, she knew as well as anyone—which was none—that it was impossible. The imposter that was not the moon rose and set and illuminated just as the moon once had. She could see it in the corner of her eye. And if so brazen, she could just make out the color of the iris.

The moon wasn’t golden.

The moon didn’t blink.

The moon didn’t have an iris.

Impossibility became reality, and reality was staring right at her. It looked so unmistakably human. Some distant part of her wanted to laugh.

She didn’t know why it watched. What could be so interesting in this little forest anyway? But it was the sky and the sky was the world and the world was left behind. Or was the world the ground? She looked down, and sure enough, she was standing on dirt. It was cold. She was barefoot. A white silken dress, filthy and tattered, brushed against her knees. A breeze softly pulled the fabric, a rustle in the trees somewhere.

Yes, the world had gone to die.

She had seen it happen. The ones who looked. Who stared into the world’s reaper. She saw the funny things it did to them. Unraveled and unmade, rewrote their very being into what was not. It was quiet. It was swift. It was the world unfolding. And then the world was a pine forest road, leading somewhere halfway to obscurity and glory. Saved were those to look away before meeting its gaze, a miracle to those who would look back bleeding. No one looked back at all.

One by one, ebbed into oblivion. They didn’t even realize they were being watched.

And now, when morbid curiosity nipped the heels of her inhibition, she risked a glance at the thing. What did glory look like? Was it golden?

Buzzing.

Static branching out to every nerve, a crown of fractal patterns as the nosebleed starts. Has she always heard the ringing?

It was quiet. It was swift. Glory was a trail of crimson catching on a false moonlit dress.

Somewhere, a dog barked.

There was no dog.

There was no forest.

No one looked when the sky looked back.

If anyone can find the artist of the painting, I’d like to credit them.

[sleepycrowkid]

My dear wolf, the sun

The sun gives the wolf

Yellow eyes

To hunt

In its shadows.

The moon paints it silver

To hide

A blood-stained pelt.

The joy of a shepherd

It is to watch,

The wolf wound itself while

Tearing wool off.

The sheep left behind,

Once upon a manger.

The sorrow of a mother

It is to see,

The wolf chase love away

When it smiles

With all its teeth.

But when you’ve cut

Your mouth

On everything,

Is there anything

Left to bleed?

My dear wolf,

Do you need a bandaid?

[sleepycrowkid]

PROLOGUE

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 1-9)

AND SO IT BEGINS!

[CONTINUE] [MASTERPOST]

[sleepycrowkid]

We’re all a big family here 🖤

[sleepycrowkid]

in all timelines and in all possibilities 🫶🏻

key frames below the line!!

[sleepycrowkid]

SHERLOCK AND CO ARTISTS!!!!

Please!!! I beg you!!!! DRAW SOMETHING WITH SHERLOCK AND “Come along - Cosmo Sheldrake” LYRICS

I mean????

Come, come, come, come, come along now

Run away from the hum-drum

We'll go to a place that is safe from

Greed, anger and boredom

LITERALLY SHERLOCK INTRODUCING JOHN AND MARIANA TO THE WORLD OF CRIMINOLOGY???!!!

We'll dance and sing till sundown

And feast with abandon

We'll sleep when the morning comes

And we'll rise by the sound of the birdsongs

LIFE ON BAKER STREET WITH A NEURODIVERGENT CHAOTIC???

PLEASE

SOMEBODY HEAR MEEEEE

[sleepycrowkid]

Ever here that's left in me is yours just as it was

[sleepycrowkid]

Happy 1 year anniversary to Mr Sherlock Holmes! Here's a litttleee celebratory comic from me

[sleepycrowkid]

[sleepycrowkid]

[sleepycrowkid]

crying, sobbing even

“You’d turn on me after all we’ve been through?”

[sleepycrowkid]

My experience with queer media lately:

[sleepycrowkid]

— forgive me.

[sleepycrowkid]

Toxic old men yaoi my beloved🩸🪓⚰️