Everybody's Writing Clop! (One-Shot with Song)

Everybody's Writing Clop!

 

 

>Another day at the AiE facility was coming to a close.  As the bells went off to signal the end of the work day, you led Anonymous back to the front door, marking the end of his tour.

 

Alright writefags, shift's over.  Ya'll know where you got to go.

 

"That was great!  Where are we going now?"

 

Home.  Didn't ya hear?  We're done for the day.

 

"Aaw but I wanted to see more of AiE!"

 

It'll be here for you tomorrow.  Now come on, Scruffy the Janitor doesn't like people around when he's working.

 

"So, have we seen the whole thread?"

 

That's right.  Sad, feels, rustling, rainbro, good feels, funny, fetishy.  Good ends, bad ends, no ends, sad ends, un-ends making readers cry.  Gooks, mooks, flukes and spooks, every Anon by the by.  Smart ones, strong ones, weird ones,

 

old ones, ones who lose and ones who try.  You've seen it all, Anon!  Every thing our little factory here has to offer.

 

"Then...what's that room all the writefags are going into?"

 

>...

 

That's just an exit door, Anon.  Everybody's going home.

 

"Oh.  Well, lets head out that way!  I wanted to talk to some of those guys-"

 

NO!

 

"...Why not?"

 

Eheh, well... its just, all the way down there!  We can head out the exit on this floor and meet them round back.

 

"I dunno, I'd hate to be too late and miss them.  Come on, lets get going!"

 

Anon, wait!  Dammit...  

 

>You chase after Anon, rushing down the stairwell to the writefag floor.  Just as he makes for the door handle on the far side of the room, you shout out.

 

Anon, HOLD IT!

 

"What?"

 

Anon, listen to me.  You don't need to see what's behind that musty old door.  Once you're in there, I can't take you back out.  There's no turning back.

 

"Well, I've got to know now."

 

Suit yourself.  Just remember, I warned you.

 

>Anonymous cracks open the door, peering inside.  Slowly, he opens it wide, revealing the writefags still at work in a back room.

 

"What...is this?"

 

Welcome to AiE's dark little corner, Anon.

 

"...What are they all writing?"

 

Stroke script.

 

"What?"

 

Beat books, naughty novels, sultry stories.  Tainted tomes all made with ill-reputed ink.  Clop, Anon!  Clop!

 

"But, why?"

 

Their feeling the LOVE, Anon.  Got it so bad they can't stop themselves.  It starts easy enough.  A flirtatious fic here, a rutting joke there, harmless at first, but as the hours of reading grow, so does the sickness.  They start writing it themselves, fulfilling the requests of others.  Soon enough, they're making requests of their own.  It's a virus, Anon, a disease!  They can't write their normal work because they get caught up in all the Clop.  Tripfags are forgotten, updates get postponed, stories DIE, Anon! Now, you get to experience it all for yourself.

 

"W-what do you mean?"

 

I tried to warn you, Anon.  Stop you before it was too late, but now you're here, and the late night shift's about to start.

 

"You're joking."

 

No jokes here, Anon.  Just rape.

 

"There CAN'T be this many writers for this!"

 

You'd be surprised how far a little imagination can go.

 

"There has to be some clean authors!  People who don't fall to this level of indecency!"

 

Oh, Anon, don't you get it yet?  Look around you.  Recognize the tripfags?  We're all here, and we're all damned to do it.  Here, let me show you around.

 

 

Wuten's tootin on his own horn

Rainbro Dash and Sonic Boom.

Next thing we know spaghetti shows

And they're rutting in bedrooms!

 

Aether's wafer thin on voting

For a good CYOA.

It's in the bag, no one's a fag

Then Clop outvotes you anyway!

 

Clocks, time box, our favorite Warlock

Necron fights and SorcAnon!

Eldar dicks get in the mix

Swallowed as the dawn sets on.

 

Gadget set to agitate you

With updates to Silver Spoon.   (Not really!)

Trix? She sticks to potent magicks

But still wants that Human Harpoon!

 

 

 

"Ok, but that's only a few examples.  I mean come on, not ALL the writers here are into CLOP."

 

Oh?

 

 

Ready, Setty?  Here comes Betty!

Spaghetti, and Sparkle too!

Never know how far she'll go

To rut in ways you never knew.

 

Uncle Brainhorn?  We should forewarn,

Rape is one hell of a drug!

Sex is curt when getting Hurt-

The mares don't like their special hugs.

 

Magma Marehood, Hot Monkey Wood,

It's the trend you cannot stop!

Outfits, cockpits, giant crotch tits,

Beat the meat and get a mop!

Zebra voodoo, Changeling vagoo,

It's the end of our bookshop!

Everybody's Writing Clop!

 

"No, I don't believe it!  There's got to be at least ONE clean writefag!"

 

Just accept it, Anon.  Even if there is a clean writefag out there, what's the point?  Doesn't take long till he falls to his lesser ways.

 

"What about dead writers?"

 

Them, too.  Nothing escapes the Clop, Anon.  Not even Sherman tanks.

 

"This... is a lot to take in."

 

I was there myself once.  I know how it is.  Come on, Strelnikov left some vodka before he went, we'll talk about it over a couple shots.

 

"Where do we even start?"

 

Spose we could start with the first one I saw.  You see, Anonymous was stuck in Tartarus with Nightmare Moon.  They were about to climb a cliff face when...