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lurkerwithcomputer · 4 months

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First Day

A/N: Yet more of my Tokyo Ghoul Future AU, which is not quite "post-canon" in that past events (as in, during the time of TG and RE) happened differently, but that doesn't pop very often because the kids don't know much about it. Also this was fun to write, scent is a fun sense to dig into, and it's so important to ghouls!

Onwards to Ichika's first day at a new school!

The warmth of Mom's hand fades from her shoulder, and the building's shadow makes her shiver even though it's warm and sunny out today. She looks up at the school building, back down, and takes a deep breath of fresh, outside air before she steps inside. The inside air hits her as she walks in, too warm and weird-smelling, kind of like old cardboard on top of everything else. Everything else, like human, ghoul, sweat, fabric, soap, shoe rubber, the awful fake-grape smell from the girl next to her. The girl shakes out her hair, and Ichika feels her nose scrunch as she gets another whiff of it. Dad always says "don't judge people", but I'm gonna judge her just a bit. That's an awful shampoo choice. Who wants to smell like grape cold medicine? The other crowd in the entrance hall gets her attention this time. Mixing with the people coming in from the front doors, but like water and oil together, little blobs of people among each other's crowd, without really mixing. Her mom said this school is an... experiment, that's the word. Ghouls from the 24th ward come here, not just ghouls from above ground who blend in with humans. She's busy watching them spill out of the doors to the stairway that goes underground, because 24th ward clothes are always interesting to look at. The loose pants and open-sided shirts look very comfy. So, she's not looking where she walking. In front of her, a sudden strong scent, right in her face - salty, tangy sweat and the wet-pavement scent that everyone from the 24th smells like. It makes her imagine old concrete buildings covered in moss and vines, for a moment. But only for a moment. She pretty much bounces off someone a lot bigger than her, knocking the picture out of her head. A strong, very warm grip on her shoulder is keeping her on her feet. Ichika looks up at a girl and thinks of - Mutsuki-chan, brown skin and light hair. Saiko-chan, wide and solid and soft, but taller. Ichika knows she's not very big, but wow. Is this girl an older student? "Hey! Uh, are you okay?" "Yep! Thanks to your big, strong hands," and Ichika can't resist adding, "you're big and strong and I'm a fragile princess~" The other girl - and Ichika doesn't know her name - laughs loudly, and Ichika can't help but start giggling. "You're not fragile, I felt your shoulder. But you're funny," she says, grinning. The other girl pats her on the shoulder as they split up, and Ichika fishes in her pocket for the paper with her locker number on it. 208. She looks around the gigantic entrance hall full of lockers as she slowly walks - 2... 20... 208. She smiles as she swaps her outdoor shoes for indoor shoes. We didn't even learn each others' names, but maybe... maybe I already made a friend.

#lurker writes #tg #tokyo ghoul #kaneki ichika #lurker's TG future AU

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dragonsareverycool · 2 months

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The figure turned to look at Damian and seemed to freeze before its form shifted, rings of light covering it as it did. When the rings faded, there they floated with white hair that moved like it was uneffected by gravity and was moved by wind that wasn’t there. Freckles that looked like stars covered the beings skin, tanned but washed out and ashen, like a corpse. Wide, expressionless eyes that glowed a bright eeire green. Despite this, Damian recognized that face. He recognized that expression too. Despite looking like Tim’s dead eyed stare to most anyone else, Damian knew the expression as one of surprise, of shock. And that face was almost identical to the one in his nightmares of the worst day of his life. He knew that face every time he glanced in a mirror.

“Danyal” he said softly, his own face almost certainly in an identical expression. Despite the distance and chaos between them, Damian was certain Danyal heard him, as Danyal perked up a bit. Then, his form seemed to glitch, colors distorting as his body twitched and part of his body seemed to disappear for a moment. Then, he seemed to fade into nothing, leaving Damian to start panicking. He worried that he had just lost Danyal again.

Then he reappeared startlingly close, putting his hand on Damian’s chest “Here,” he said, the difference in how he spoke compared to Damian achingly familiar, “A drop of your blood and an offering of food if you’re feeling nice. Call my name, it may take a moment but I will appear” he removed his hand, and a piece of neon green glowing paper with strange symbols on it floated after Danyal’s hand before Damian caught it. Danyal’s form glitched again, harder, and his face set in a grimace before he faded into invisibility again.

Fun fact! Sometimes when the grief got bad enough, Damian would mimic how Danny talked and would recite stories about constellations like Danny did. He took many, many precautions to make sure that no one, not even Talia knows that he’s done this. Only Alfred the cat and maybe Alfred the Human knows, and neither will speak a word to anyone about it.

#I’m so scared of this getting popular #I am a lurker and this is my first personal writing offering to the screaming void #If too many eyes are on me I may startle and disappear into the underbrush #dpxdc #demon twins #demon twins au #it has me by the throat #just a little shred of the loving chaos in my mind #I’m so sorry I don’t have much else to give for this au rn #if people want I can make a post explaining the context for this

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beescake · 3 months

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EVIL FUCKED UP KARKAT..HEH...JUST A LOOK INTO MY SICK AND TWISTED MIND...

have u read

Thoroughbred - egomaniac - Homestuck [Archive of Our Own]

literally my #1 fave most beloved dvkt fic heheh thanks for the opening! ive been itching for the chance to recc it (even dvkt antis 🫵 ur gonna like this one kisskiss give it a chance)

#after my slkt ceo post thoroughbred author (@johnkat) came online & told me “tomkat”. neither of us anticipated this ask #which means THERE'S A PROSPECTIVE EDGEKAT AUDIENCE BEYOND OUR SUCCESSIONSTUCK DMS ?!#ask #anon #homestuck #davekat #johnkat #karkat vantas #dave strider #john egbert #2024 #vioart #fic rec tag #Thoroughbred by egomaniac (AO3)#this fic's been my baby since the day it dropped okk its so fgjhfjghjhgk... god.#be sure to check out all her fics!! its actually bcs of her that i upgraded from hs-lurker to hs-participator!!!#while writing this post i noticed she posted another one HAJHAA i shall read it once my mind is ready :))c <333

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ashwithapen · 21 days

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ao3 commenters >>>>>>> im so serious, you guys are the most incredible people, you turn me into a hundred different animals with the sheer count of excited animal-like noises you force from my lungs. i love you all <33

#to my lurker !lurk: i adore you /p #ash.txt #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #writers #writerscommunity #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #ao3feed #ao3 writer #fanfic #ao3 stuff #archive of our own #fanfic writing

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thelurkershideout · 9 days

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Write for yourself? No. Write for that one mutual who read that one off scene you did for an OC with no backstory and fell in love with it.

Also write for yourself because you also fell in love with that scene and are so excited to have someone to talk about it with.

A fandom can be you and a mutual in DMs screaming about the blorbos in your brain.

Hi @singleteapot , thank you.

#the lurker speaks #the lurker writes

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jnewinchester · 2 months

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There's currently 198 fics for death mark. Just 2 more 'till we reach 200. Thank you all for your service

#death mark #shiin #death mark 2 #spirit hunter #im eating so good again #mayhaps I'll try writing some too??#idk tho #big time lurker here but hello my fellow death mark enjoyers #pls talk to me #aha #janetalkchester

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itischeese · 3 months

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Something for ObitoWeek2024 :D

For the prompt: Lost & Found

“I—” Minato-sensei stops, turns to Kakashi. His expression is sympathetic, restrained devastation and grief. It makes Kakashi feel small, like he’s a little kid again and he just found his father, just felt his world shatter for the first time. The first, and not the last, because Obito—“We can’t leave him here.” “Kakashi,” regretful. “He’s—under that much stone…”

Kakashi shakes his head. “I know,” he croaks out, and he sounds broken. (He feels broken. How can’t he, when Obito’s—Obito’s gone, gone and dead and Kakashi will never get to—) “We need to—to bury him, or something.” It’s—not a shinobi thing, really, not something most care about. A waste of time at best. Kakashi’s father had spared the time to bury everyone, even his enemies. Kakashi’s jaw is beginning to hurt from how tightly he has it clenched, and his nails dig into his palms. He doesn’t know what he’ll do, if Minato-sensei refuses.

#nurt #kakaobi #obito week 2024 #tobito #he's just my little guy #it was SUCH a relief to realize I hadn't missed obito week #Still sad I missed Rin week but at least I haven't failed All of my children...#I still don't really know how to participate in events (too used to being a fandom lurker lol) sooo #if you recognize this from the 'which to write next by title' poll...#no you don't #I would NEVER procrastinate on a project that much....

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not-poignant · 2 months

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Good day! A genuine question. Do you really won't think about comment like " WOW!!! Thank you for this chapter! " from a person who usually writes more in-depth commentaries as something like " they didn't llke it enough for the extra sentence or two " ?

Hi anon!

So, everyone's human. Even the people who love to leave longer comments get tired sometimes, or have other things going on in their life.

And I'd rather those people leave a shorter comment or an emoji, than like, feel guilty about not leaving long comments, or just vanish into thin air (at which point I just assume they've stopped reading, because I have literally no evidence otherwise unless they're sending replies or something else). Though obviously people can stop commenting too!

There are some people who leave me three hearts (or around 3 hearts) every chapter they read. I take them as little extra kudos, or just a little sign of appreciation. It's someone going 'I'm here, I like this.' And I reply with little hearts as a little sign of appreciation to go 'I'm here too, thank you, I see you.'

That's special to me.

I love love love long meaty comments that I can sink my teeth into, but I love all my commenters, anon.

But even the people who love leaving long comments get tired, get stressed out, can't think of words, have nothing to say because they're speechless, and then it's like well, I hope they feel comfortable enough to just leave a 💜💜💜 - and if they can't, they can't.

If people don't like my fic, anon, they stop reading! They don't leave comments, they stop leaving comments and they disappear (which is why when a regular commenter vanishes, that's when I think they don't like the chapter/s or story anymore, which is fair, and they don't have to, but sometimes it can make me a little sad).

But yeah the sign of a person who doesn't like to read a story is a person who isn't there to read the story at all! Not someone who only has the energy or will to leave a sentence or two! Some of those people don't speak English as a first language, and still practicing, some are really tired, some genuinely don't have much to say, some are embarrassed because it was a sex scene, etc. There's lots of reasons!

Everyone who's ever left a long comment doesn't need my permission, but certainly has it to leave extremely tiny comments when it's all they can manage / and they want to leave something! Honestly, putting pressure on yourself to leave long comments every single time can actually stress people out to the point that they stop reading fics when they know they can't comment like that, I've been in that position myself and that's not...what we're going for.

I want people to enjoy the story first, because like...that's...what I want the most. :)

(For folks wondering, this is - I think - in reference to this post I reblogged earlier today).

#asks and answers #pia on fanfiction #pia on writing #pia on fandom #i don't think 'didn't they like it enough to say more' - that thought has never entered my mind anon!#i think 'wow they liked it!'#or 'wow they left little hearts that's sweet'#some people can't think of what to say for lots and lots of reasons #and lots of people are so tired and so burnt out right now #even i am #so we have to spend our energy wisely #i love *all* my commenters #from the ones who leave two random comments #to the ones who comment every chapter #to the ones who comment long comments and short ones #to the ones who only send hearts #in fact there are lurkers who i think never ever would have commented #if i hadn't said i was okay with hearts and stuff first #and they learned i *meant it*#sometimes you gotta start easy y'know?

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ivegennedmylastloss · 9 months

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so. i was thinking. in generation loss, why was charlie given the moniker “The Villain”?

because ranboo and sneeg’s titles make sense: Ranboo “The Hero” was showfall’s hero, no problems there, and Sneeg “The Taken” was taken prisoner in the first episode, taken captive when he tried to escape the carousel in the episode two, and was taken for granted had his life taken permanently (maybe) in the finale.

however, Slimecicle “The Villain” feels like it only really applies to the first episode, with him playing the antagonist to the hero in the form of the slime demon. in the second and third episode, he didn’t really play a villain, just mega chet and then himself.

unless, of course, charlie slimecicle was labeled the villain because he was the one that got the hero killed in the end.

be it intentionally or not, at the start of the trail of dominoes that leads to ranboo being crucified, sits charlie. in a mockery of his streaming set up, oblivious to his surroundings, unaware of the horrors around him until our dear hero saved him. an act of kindness that gave the employees the time they needed to lock the doors and seal the exits. had ranboo not stopped for charlie, they would’ve made it out and been free, they would’ve lived.

instead, our hero wanted to save their friend and in turn they were strung up and slaughtered for their good deed.

and what kind of good person would lead their friend to getting killed? who would let such a cruel fate befall his own brother? no, that’s something only a villain would do

#gen loss charlie deserves some love #and by love i mean theories that would make him cry #i know that the whole ranboo saving charlie doomed them isn’t anything new #just wanted to sprinkle a little trauma and severe guilt over our favorite goo goobie #ranboo has enough trauma they need to share with slime #also i had to check the vod to make sure i was writing mega chet correctly #of course checking one two second bit from episode two has led me to rewatching the whole series and all the behind the scenes #i mean yeah most people call him the patient but that’s boring and makes sense so mega chet it is #generation loss #genloss #charlie slimecicle #genloss charlie #gen loss theory #slimecicle #gen loss #generation loss the social experiments #generation loss theory #idk what any of the main tags are sorry if i miss tagged it #please have mercy i am but a simple lurker making my first post lmao

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amateur-scribbler · 17 days

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Hurting my own feelings by realising wanting to share my writing online means having to actually interact with people online. As an OG tumblr lurker this has been a jarring realisation; send thoughts and prayers.

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lurkerwithcomputer · 6 months

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#lurker writes #tokyo ghoul #hinami fueguchi #ayato kirishima #akira mado #gore #ayahina

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shoelace-eating-gopher · 7 months

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Of Image and Identity

tagging @fingons-rad-harp who asked if I had any Maedhros blurbs. I do. Also on AO3 here

tw for a bit of internalized ableism

*****

Maedhros always wanted to spar. It had been like this since the Bragollach, the desperate energy, the drive to be better. The need to push everyone else around him to be better as well. He wanted to make sure they were never caught unawares again. While Maglor had to admit he was improving, he also thought it was a little unfair. With the loss of Fingolfin, Maedhros was the strongest of the Noldor still left alive and fighting, and Maglor had little chance of beating him. Still, he knew what this meant to his brother, so he tried his best.

Maglor had been living in Himring for years now, and with Fingon - King Fingon - able to visit less and less frequently, he had become a rock for his brother. While the rest of their family had been scattered to the South, so far out of reach, Maglor had fled to Himring when the fires had overwhelmed his land. He was more than happy to see his brother, to see the icy fortress still standing, but he had forgotten how paranoid Maedhros could be. Maybe with good reason.

So here they were, in a private, empty court, the rhythm of battle so achingly familiar. Maglor knew that the Sudden Flame had shaken his brother to the core, but it certainly hadn’t dampened his skills as a warrior. Back and forth they spun, swords clanging, the ground a flurry of footsteps. Maglor ducked around back, trying to take advantage of his brother’s less protected right side, but he was blocked and sent spinning. He only just managed to get his sword up in time before Maedhros countered with a blow of his own.

“You know,” Maglor said, teeth gritted, but his voice good-natured. “If you’d let me Sing, this would be a fair fight.” Maedhros spun around, pushing Maglor’s sword out of the way, exposing his chest. Quickly, Maglor ducked, rolling across the floor out of range.

“You can’t rely on your voice, Makalaurë,” Maedhros said, only using Maglor’s full name if he intended to lecture him. “You need to be prepared if something like the Bragollach happens again, if you get so much smoke clogged in your throat that you can’t Sing. This could be the difference between life and death.” He whirled after Maglor, a blur of scarlet and silver, the same fire in his eyes as always. It scared Maglor sometimes, but as long as it was there, it meant his brother was still fighting.

Maglor barely had time to get his bearings, to spin around and raise his sword, before he clashed with Maedhros again. He found himself being pushed back against the weight of his older brother, who had both the height and bulk advantage. He stepped aside, cursing when Maedhros did not so much as stumble forward, and blocked the blade coming up to his back. It seems no matter what Maglor did he couldn’t get the upper hand.

“You’re not watching me,” Maedhros told him after he had got yet another ‘blow’ in. “Predict what I’m going to do next, use my strengths against me. Maybe try some strategy of your own.” Maglor’s eyes flared and he thrust his sword forward, forcing Maedhros’ arm back. Maedhros fought his way out of the maneuver before Maglor could say anything, and delivered a swift blow to the knees which sent Maglor into a smooth roll across the floor once again.

“I’m not a child that needs instruction,” Maglor huffed, bouncing to his feet again, sword primed. “I am a seasoned warrior, you know that right?” He spun around, getting in one blow to Maedhros’ side before his blade was thrust up once more. “The problem is, you're better than just about everyone.”

“Not everyone,” Maedhros said darkly, and just like that, his sword whipped out from nowhere, twisting Maglor’s weary sword arm and sending his blade flying. Maglor grimaced. He really hated losing time and time again. He turned back to Maedhros, his sword tip fixed on his chest and resigned himself to another lecture.

“You are definitely improving,” he began, walking towards Maglor. “But the small things could save your life in battle. You need more strength, more ferocity. Don’t hold back on my behalf. You can’t afford to hold back for anything. You are also very rigid on the sword handle. It’s not a lute, Makalaurë, you don’t have to - ” At that moment Maedhros cried out, pitching forward onto one knee, face twisted in pain.

“Maedhros!” Maglor cried out, dropping down beside him. “Maedhros, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Maedhros was trying to school his features into a grimace or less before turning back to Maglor, clutching his right thigh, sword still in hand. The whole scene unnerved Maglor. Had he actually done some damage during a routine practice? He hadn’t thought it was possible. Maedhros was always so strong.

“I’m fine,” Maedhros stuttered out, always the first words out of his mouth and always a lie. “It’s… my leg.” Maglor winced, immediately going to assess the injury. For Maedhros to be showing this much pain… it had to be bad.

“What happened?” He asked, forcing Maedhros down into a position that wouldn’t put any weight on his legs.

“It’s just an injury from the Bragollach,” Maedhros gritted out, not looking Maglor in the eye. “It shouldn’t be acting up.” Maglor nodded at Maedhros, letting him have his half-truths. Maedhros had sustained many injuries in battle since he had become Lord of Himring, and none of them had been anything more to him than temporary inconveniences. It was the echoes of Thangorodrim that still plagued his brother, even if he pretended to act otherwise. Maglor knew that this leg had taken considerable damage during Maedhros’ captivity, being both broken and slit at the muscle. He wouldn’t put it past the exertion from the Bragollach to make it flare up.

“Come on,” Maglor said, putting his arm around Maedhros’ back, and helping him to stand. “Let’s get you help. This is obviously worse than you’re letting on.” Maedhros stood with him, which in itself was a testament to how much pain he was in. As they rose, Maedhros clutched at Maglor’s arm.

“Not the infirmary.” He hissed through his teeth. Right. Maglor sighed. Maedhros, despite his high standing, would never let any of the healers in Himring get close, whether out of a desire to be perceived as strong or a developed aversion to them after all his time spent in the infirmaries of Mithrim. It could only be one of his brothers.

“Not the infirmary,” Maglor told him, until Maedhros had calmed down, his death grip on Maglor releasing. “I’m taking you to your room.” It was somewhat difficult with Maedhros’ extra height, but it was nothing Maglor hadn’t done before. He had retaught him how to walk after all. But by the time they arrived in the vast chamber and Maedhros slumped into one of his large chairs, they were both rather pale.

Maglor waited with a pointed look until slowly, Maedhros undid his armour, allowing Maglor to examine his leg. He was much slower to roll up his pant leg, revealing twisted white scars across bone that was not quite set properly. Maglor knew he hated this, but he needed to know how bad it was, and for that, he needed to see skin. Maglor sucked in a quick breath. The whole area was bruised deep purple and had swollen significantly. It showed no sign of deep burns, infection, or recent scarring, confirming Maglor’s theory of an older injury. Most likely, it was another one of Maedhros’ bad days. Just how bad though remained to be seen.

“I’ll be right back,” Maglor promised, and made a quick trip down to the infirmaries to pick up supplies. He came back with a cloth full of ice - in abundance in Himring - a roll of bandages, and two small vials of medicine. Even this long after the Bragollach, Maglor was surprised at how well-stocked Himring’s medicines were. Maedhros was ever vigilant. Maglor arrived back to find Maedhros holding the old wound, tapping his fingers in the familiar rhythm that meant he was trying to ground himself.

“Hey,” Maglor said firmly, drawing his attention back to him. “Maedhros, it’s alright. I’m here, I’m back. You’re going to be okay. It looks like you were right - just a flare-up. It should go down soon. Here, this will help.” He handed Maedhros the ice, and he held it to his inner thigh, hissing slightly at the pressure and the chill.

“I’ve got something for that,” he said, almost a joke. He made sure Maedhros could see him as he mixed four or five drops of the first vial into a steaming mug of tea. When his brother nodded, Maglor handed it to him, and Maedhros drank it rapidly, regardless of temperature. Maglor winced again. The least Maedhros could do was try not to injure himself again while they were trying to heal him.

“Careful,” he said belatedly. “It’s hot.”

“I’ve had worse,” Maedhros rasped at him, switching the ice to another point in his leg, trying to find relief. Maglor wanted to grab him by the shoulders and yell, telling him that that wasn’t the point. The point was there shouldn’t be a problem at all. He refrained from doing so. Instead, he focused on soaking the bandages in the second vial of medicine, letting the healing properties be absorbed into the cloth. From behind him, Maedhros stirred, stretching his leg to test it, crying out softly as he was met with more pain.

“How do I make sure that this never happens again?” he asked, his voice low and controlled. Maglor’s heart ached as he felt the thousands of questions that lay behind the request. How do I make sure this never happens when it could kill me? How do I purge this weakness from the body I worked so hard to strengthen? Will I ever really heal? Maglor wished he was a healer, one who could tell Maedhros that there were simple steps he could follow and he would never have to hurt again. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t.

“I - I don’t know, Nelyo,” Maglor said, his voice softening. “It could be a one-time thing. But…” he continued despite the dangerous glare from Maedhros. “It could also be that the best way to live with this is to learn how to deal with these flare-ups.” Maglor knelt beside Maedhros, waiting to wrap the bandages around Maedhros’ leg until he had been given a consenting nod. Maglor took it as a good sign that Maedhros only flinched slightly as the saturated bandages - and Maglor’s fingers - made contact with his skin.

“Very helpful, Maglor,” Maedhros spat, not making eye contact with him. His voice dripped with the dark sarcasm that had been ever-present since his rescue. “I am constantly reminded why I keep you around. When Morgoth strikes again - and he will - I’ve always wanted to collapse in the middle of the battlefield because I couldn't control my own injuries.” He exhaled angrily and tried to stretch his leg again, only causing more pain.

It broke Maglor’s heart. He knew how much of his brother’s identity relied on his own strength. How much his recovery had been dependent on his ability to defend himself, to have autonomy. How he coped by striving for more, always, and not relenting. If flare-ups like this persisted… What did it mean for Maedhros’ future?

“Nelyo,” Maglor said gently, tying off the bandages and putting a hand on his brother's arm. “You have faced worse than this. You are strong enough to get through this. I have faith that this will not be a regular occurrence. I have faith in you.” Maedhros looked at the ground, scowling.

“Not much to believe in,” he mumbled. Maglor gathered the remainder of the medical supplies, preparing to return them.

“It’s gotten me this far,” he said, smiling softly at his brother, seeking out his eyes. “Trust me on this.” Maedhros didn’t meet his gaze, but his expression softened slightly. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly closed, before slowly releasing all the air he had been holding in. Finally, he nodded. Not agreement, but acknowledgment. He would trust him for now. It was the only alternative they had. Maglor stood up, turning to leave for the infirmary.

“Maglor?” He heard Maedhros call from behind him.

“Yes?”

“No one knows about this, alright,” he said, a sliver of vulnerability sneaking into his guarded tone. Maglor turned back, nodding once.

“Alright,” he said, before pausing. “Fingon?” Maedhros ran his hand over his face, evidently weighing the cost of the need for his friend, and bothering the High King. Maglor raised a prompting eyebrow. Finally, Maedhros acquiesced with a nod.

“No one else,” he added, as if to make sure Maglor understood.

“No one else,” Maglor repeated, and he slipped out of the room, wishing he felt as confident as the words that came so easily to his tongue; a promise, a lie, that everything was going to be alright.

#my writing #my fic #silmarillon #the silmarillion #Silm #maedhros #maglor #so yeah I’m a writer #I have so many of these #I am just so used to being a lurker

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