#thinly veiled fiction

[smute]

honestly the problem with booktok (and bookstagram) is not YA lit. it's not about people enjoying books that some might consider "low-brow" or whatever.

imo booktok is the culmination of several problems:

firstly, there's the homogeneity of algorithmic recommendations and the enormous influence those recommendations have on the publishing market. booktok recs tend to be of a very similar style and subject matter. they're easily digestible, easily bingeable titles that arent overly complex. booktok favors stories written by white women, often featuring characters with traumatic backstories and focusing on themes like overcoming adversity and the pursuit of romantic love. they are also usually very anglo-/americentric. none of this is necessarily bad, and none of it is by design, but it's not a coincidence either. it's the result of the constraints of short-form content on the one hand, and on the other, of an algorithm that amplifies, in broad strokes, the preferences of the core demographic of any given group of users.

secondly, it's about the commodification, not of reading, but of being Someone Who Reads Books (TM), which i think is just a particularly obvious symptom of online peer pressure and social-media-driven self-presentation. booktok doesn't encourage you to read, for example, sally rooney. it encourages the cultivation of one's own identity as someone who reads sally rooney. the problem here is not that sally rooney is a shit writer whose work has nothing of note to say. quite the opposite. sally rooney's work is relevant and interesting. in fact, it's being studied by scholars, and even if it wasn't, people can and should be allowed to enjoy some light reading, and yes, even Problematic (TM) fictional characters.

the real problem is the fact that the very nature of how booktok works actively discourages the critical discussion of the stories that it circulates. the problem is not millions of teenagers reading colleen hoover's slop (i love me some slop) – it's millions of teenagers encouraging each other to read and internalize – UNCRITICALLY – hoover's particularly romanticized depiction of abuse. tiktok's algorithm does not foster diversity of opinion. it doesn't foster diversity PERIOD. it doesn't foster slow, in-depth discussion. its only function is *make line go up* – line go up = clicks, views, engagement, money.

due to tiktok's popularity, booktok also has an enormous influence on marketing-related and (apparently, to some extent) editorial decision-making in the publishing industry. this is not just the fault of booktok, goodreads is part of the same problem. i mean, booktok has managed to turn colleen hoover's 'it ends with us' into a bestseller FIVE YEARS after it was originally published. it has also led to publishers dropping authors or DELAYING THE RELEASE of new titles after booktokers flooded the goodreads pages of unpublished books with one star reviews.

as i said, the underlying issue here is not unique to booktok. it's the same homogenization that plagues the movie industry, the tv industry, streaming services, etc. the publishing industry is just particularly vulnerable to such manipulations of public opinion. in the end, tiktok is not a social media app. it's an entertainment app and its content is focused on brevity. the biggest booktokers aren't simply avid readers. they don't post actual reviews of books they enjoyed. they're influencers who receive boxes of books from publishing houses to show off in haul videos like "have you guys heard of squarespace?" and that's it. the level of engagement with the texts themselves is like reading a blurb on the dustjacket, and unfortunately that is reflected in the selection of titles that become popular. if it can't be sold to you in 3 sentences, the algorithm will bury it.

[leeeeeeef]

everything is fine

courtesy of my awesome gay brush i made over a year ago

[fitzrove]

todolf iceberg

[skiitter]

Sometimes I’ll just be living my life and get absolutely fucking sidelined by dhr feels. It’s impossible to cope tbqh and I wish the fandom hadn’t become just Booktok with extra steps. I miss them and the absolute wretchedness of them as a ship and it sucks.

[spooksandstories]

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. In a way I struggle to describe, the world came alive around her. Colours brightened, and so did people, unable to resist the joy she brought.

For some reason she spoke to me. I was flattered, of course, stumbling over my words.

She smiled, I swooned.

Love at first sight, do you believe in it? I do.

For that entire conversation, I was hooked on her, hanging off every word. Entranced. Nothing else mattered in that moment.

She asked me out. I accepted. Just before leaving, she leaned in close.

Lips brushing against eachother.

Heart beating fast.

We kissed.

For every moment of joy spent in her presence, it was worth that kiss. For the stabbing pain I felt, for the blood that burst from my lips.

She smiled and left.

Still bleeding, aching and wincing, I could only think about how excited I was for our date.

*

3 nights later, we held hands walking into her favourite restaurant. Pinprick drops of blood form on my palm. I ignore the pain.

The evening is perfect. Good food and conversation. I can't take my eyes off her.

She can't keep her hands off me, gently holding my arms, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

Each touch, however slight, brings needles of pain. Sharp and cutting, clothes slowly stained red over the hours.

But I don't mind. Not if it's her.

We leave once people start growing concerned. Blood stains cause quite a stir.

So we leave, head to a hotel. Somewhere grand and bleeding with money. People pass us by, and she cuts fresh wounds into me, blood trailing after her fingers on my back. Marking her territory.

Then, lying on the bed, looking up at her. My body exposed, desperate for her touch.

Slowly, so slowly, she reaches down. She touches me delicately, like she doesn't want me to break.

But she keeps reaching down. Fingers pushing deep into skin. A dagger in my stomach.

It punctures. A gush of blood, spurting out hot and excited. I let out a cry, and start moaning. That makes her smile.

With one hand now inside me, the other grips my elbow.

Pain sparks in the bone, and the sound of the crack is almost as loud as my scream. Before numbness creeps in, the feeling is electric in my arm, or what remains of it.

Fingers grope and tear flesh. Intensines probed, untangled and spooled out into open air. I watch, delirious, as she puts the glistening mess to her mouth and feasts on it.

By now, thoughts are hard to form. Images blur and give way to sensation.

A pressure moves from the stomach, higher up, rubbing and teasing the lungs.

For a long time I cannot breath. Something is wrapped around my trachea, bulging under the skin.

She stops before I pass out.

Hours pass. Hands molesting my insides, sometimes taking parts out, sometimes putting things in. Sensation burns across my whole being. All of it is euphoric.

I could have stayed like that forever, mindless in the pain.

But at some point, she put me back together. Closed all the seams. I felt empty without her inside me. An ache, a hollowness deep inside.

That was the first time I felt such bliss. It was not the last. We still talk, though she does not listen. Her eyes, her beautiful eyes, just look over my body and hunger to use me.

On the blessed nights were I am cut apart, I am left changed. Parts missing or gained.

As good as it feels, really I do it for her. To see her, bloodied and feasting, viscera smeared across her smiling face.

She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and her I live for her.

[leon-on-the-froggy-chair]

not to be controversial or anything but how tf you gonna be a RE fan and then pro-capitalism and defend corporations and governmental greed and shit

[koiturine]

confession | night.

tws: anxiety, heavy drinking, implied discrimination

it's late. it's been late, and we really should've gone back to the hotel room hours ago.

but i drink. i drink and i drink and i drink. every snide remark gets kicked back with the sting of cobra venom, but it takes more than a little liquid courage to make absolutely sure it doesn't get to me.

"he's my boyfriend, koi." did he really not tell anyone before he brought me to this company party?

"my 'arm candy' has a name, you know." thank you so much for introducing me, avie... does that guy think i'm your male hooker or something?

"do you seriously think i can't date someone without an ulterior motive?" did you used to date people with an ulterior motive?!

i sipped through every comment, and pregamed every future comment. and... well, i basically drank my way through the whole party. but aventurine isn't the only one with a good poker face. i might not have the best tolerance, but i can hold myself together when i'm wasted.

"my precious little jackpot. you're not having a bad time tonight, are you?" i feel the blood rush to my cheeks when he whispers in my ear... and the tiny bit of upset behind his teeth. "yeah! i mean... i'm good. it's fun meeting all your co-workers." all of the liquid courage pours out of my body in a deluge of sweat. oh my god i'm so humiliated i wanna go for another drink.

aventurine knows. he has to, or he wouldn't grip my hip so tightly. "i like my free booze." i blurt out the statement while i try to look him in the eyes.

"you like your free booze when you're dancing. you think you need your free booze when you're scared." i can't make direct eye contact with him for long. it took a lot of learning on his part to realize i can't make direct eye contact with anyone. but it's obvious when i'm avoiding it on purpose.

i'm not as smooth as he is. i can't go with the flow and pull him into a dance or ask him 'why would i be lonely? you've been with me the whole time.' it's not just loneliness. it's knowing i'm supposed to have fun, but not being able to let go without it.

it's insecurity that i'm not good enough.

i... need another drink. "one sec..." aventurine holds me closer before i get a chance to skedaddle. "c'mon, avie. i gotta pee."

"you can pee in the room." this blond thing wrapped around me starts kissing me over and over again, chuckling and hiding the simmering ire as we walk out. he doesn't even hold my hand as we walk to the elevator. of course, aventurine keeps his smile. but the dead silence says everything.

he's quiet when he's walking with me.

he's simmering in silence when he's walking ahead, not even holding my hand. at least... that's how it feels.

the elevator carries the same thick air, the booze at least easing my anxiety and fear. i know i'm in trouble, but i can only freak out so much in a stupor.

it doesn't even take a second when he closes the door to our suite behind me. "what the hell is going on?"

i was lying. the sting of his disappointment puts a lump in my throat. this is the end, isn't it?

"nothing... i... don't wanna talk about it."

aventurine sighs, squeezing the bridge of his nose. he's obviously mad. but if i say something he's probably gonna think i'm stupid. i try to maintain a poker face. i can't let him see that i'm scared. i can't make him think he hurt me. why the fuck am i even hurt by such a stupid question!?

"...i..." aventurine blinks up at me, surprised that i'm even trying to loop back around. "i don't... want you to think i'm boring. or embarrass you, or if i'm really worth bringing to a rich corporate party, or--"

i was so lost in my spiral i didn't realize he was pulling me into a hug. the warmth and softness, the smell of his cologne at least... helps. "you aren't the only person the ipc judged from just their looks."

...right. his avgin eyes.

"the only way you could've ruined it is if you didn't show up at all." i think i feel aventurine's hands tremble a bit. the question leaves my mouth before i get the chance to mull it over.

"so did you bring me because you didn't wanna feel alone?"

he chuckles at that, rubbing my back as his soft voice reassures me every step of the way. "of course i did."

[yeats-infection]

this happened today

[lazarus-james]

ive... ive written 53k of janack... in one month. am i... ok?

[just-your-average-cryptid]

“So wait a second, why don’t you have a wand? Aren’t you doing way more complicated magic stuff?”

“Well, yes,” Professor Argus replied, “but I’ve also had the experience and training to simply manifest by gesture. The wand is to help you channel your will while you’re still learning to control your power.” Getting only blank stares in response, he sighed and leaned back against the desk.

“Did your first-year teachers not explain the Hierarchy of Manifestation?”

“The what?”

“Oh dear,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “no wonder these poor kids are struggling.” He knew those new standards were fairy-farts, but this was far worse than expected. “Magic is led by the will of the caster and the inclination of their power. No matter how much I might want to, I cannot cast any kind of Divination spell because my power lies in metallicraft sorcery. The more confidence and control you have, the more complex your magic can be. Control, however, is the hard part for most young mages. Was it not you, Malken, who was scouted after your wild, untrained magic manifested as shrinking your neighbor’s sheep?”

“…yes, sir.”

“No shame in it, young man, it’s happened to all of us in our early days. Try explaining why your house stood up and walked away with your family still in it!” The student smiled awkwardly, but the reassurance did its job. “The wands you now hold are carved from Elfwood, which retains its ability to harness and absorb magical energy. They will channel your desire and direct it, allowing you to manifest without any unwanted side effects.”

He untied a small pouch from his belt and dumped the contents into his hand, an assortment of metal scraps and gears. Closing his fingers around it, he continued, “Once your control has been improved and your confidence heightened, you should be able to manifest by gesture — for instance, I believe that a flick of my hand will assemble these parts into a mechanical bug, and so they shall.” Indeed, a moment later the beetle twitched its wire antennae, gears whirring as it shifted about. He placed it on his desk to be set to work later.

“The most powerful mages can manifest their desires by sheer will alone — they think it will be, and it is so. It will be quite some time before you reach such a point; even I often struggle with it. Professor Vin can provide a suitable demonstration if you are so interested. Now! It does appear we’ve reached the end of our time together. Thank you for your attention today, and be ready to present your manifestation when we meet again in three days. Class dismissed.”

One of the students stayed behind — an inquisitive one. He liked them. “Will you be available later today? I have a question about how to do a Beasttongue manifestation in a, uh… small classroom.”

“We may discuss that whenever you like, my friend. I shall be here for quite some time, I believe; I will, of course, be sharing my thoughts with the Education Council on their new plan.” His voice dipped into a growl as he finished, the other half of his heritage not so easy to suppress this time.

“Thank you, professor!” they said, rushing out to rejoin their friends. Argus sighed, taking a few deep breaths until his teeth stopped feeling pointy.

“Well, little friend,” he said, turning to the metal beetle, “how would you like to deliver a message for me?”

[malaierba]

Not a big fan of how the A.damsApple fandom sometimes talks about Sera let alone Lilith negl

[fancy-a-dance-brigadier]

I do believe that fandom as it exists on tumblr has stopped being fun

[chocobothis]

Me: Wow, I’m having a difficult time right now with med changes and things.

Me: Now is an excellent time to want to figure out how to run a Star Wars OC Server. Because this fandom is clearly made up of stable, rational people who don’t regularly piss me off with the most rancid takes imaginable. There’s no way this can go horrifically wrong at lightspeed.

Anyway, I’m probably gonna watch youtube videos on how to do this. I’m brand new to actually setting up a server with the intention of being any sort of public. If I do undertake this I want to know what in the fuck I’m doing. Because I like to be as smart as possible when making the stupidest decisions.

[maryannmackey]

'It's not like we could leave. You're like... Rapunzel up here. Locked away in your castle.. with all your hair... Hayes Campbell, the new-millennium Rapunzel.'  'Rapunzel of the Four Seasons,' he said. We laughed.  For a moment, he held my gaze and I felt that distinct rush. The realization that this attraction had ceased to be just physical. That somewhere I had crossed over. That I liked him.  'When I was ten, I came here for the first time with my parents. We stayed in a hotel in Times Square and we visited the Statue of Liberty and did all these touristy things. We went to see Ground Zero and they were just starting to build again.'  I realized that this, what he was talking about, was only ten years ago. That I was living in Los Angeles by then, still somewhat happily married, and with a two-year-old. Our references were so far off. When the towers came down, Hayes would have been in the equivalent of the third grade. 'There was this one afternoon,' he continued, 'that we spent up in Central Park. Just walking around. And there was so much going on. These huge Latin families picnicking and playing music. People roller-skating. Blokes playing football.. soccer. It was so alive and full of energy and happy. And I remember feeling it was wicked that for one afternoon I was part of that. I was talking to Rory this morning, and I was telling him how brilliant it was to lose a day walking in Central Park because he's never been. He'd never been here before the group. But then I realized, we can't do that. I can't do that anymore. He may never have the opportunity to do that. Which is weird, yeah? It's a trade-off...' He was quiet for a moment, looking out toward the greenery. His stunning profile. His beautiful bones.  He turned in my direction suddenly, pressing his back up against the railing. 'I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry. I just get going sometimes and ---'  Hayes's lips were still moving when I kissed them. This warm, wide, inviting pool that beckoned. I could not resist the bait. His youth, his beauty. And everything, everything about the moment, was wonderful.  'Oh-kay,' he said when he finally allowed me to pull away. 'I didn't see that coming.'  'Sorry. I just.. your mouth.'  'Really?' He smiled 'It wasn't the hair?' I began to laugh. His large hands circled my waist, drawing me into him. 'It wasn't my waxing nostalgic about my childhood holidays? Because this one time we were in Majorca..'  'Shut up, Hayes.'  'You know this means I win, right? Because I held out longer.'  'I didn't know it was a competition.'  He shrugged. 'I didn't know it wasn't.'  'That's because you're twenty.'  'Yes, well... you seem to like that.' He stopped talking and leaned in to kiss me again.

The Idea of You, Robinne Lee

[razorsadness]

She was there for the aftermath of me, running from boy to boy to girl to boy, my slut rebounds. I hoped one might sweep me off my feet the way you had and stay around to pick me up, but. All I had was loss, and everybody loves a winner, so nobody loved me.[13] M consulted the tarot cards on my behalf and it seemed the deck was stacked with nothing but The Tower and the Three of Swords. Heartbreak, sorrow, disaster–what else is new?

Until H–one of your best friends–told me he’d had feelings for me since the night we met. (I mean the night he and I met, which was also the night you and I met.) And I thought: maybe this time, for the first time, love won’t hurry away.[14]  He crooned: my aim is true[15] but we lived halfway across the country from each other and I was still recovering from the aborted love affair with you. So H and I were just a few months of offkey serenades over late night phone lines, another near miss, and not much more.

—Jessie Lynn McMains, from “After a While, Crocodile”

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

if any of my fanfics get published at least i can rest assured that i didn't post any of the original versions so nobody can know 100% sure for real just what my original intent was 😇