Interview with the Vampire + Arrested Development
I’ve always wanted to talk a bit lenghtily about my opinions on fic, fic writing and the general writer-fic-reader culture and I just saw an extremely unpleasant “article” on ao3 that righeously attacks a certain genre of fanfic that I personally don’t read, nor like, but the existence of which really doesn’t bother me.
First things first, to me the positives of fanfiction vastly outnumber the negatives. I am used to living in absolute certainty that anytime I want to have fun, escape or get a little hot and bothered, there will always be fic to provide that for me. I will always, always find a fic I love. Notice I am saying fic *I* love, not, “fic that is good”. And having this certainty, I become entirely unbothered by the automatically existing other group, aka fics I don’t love.
Despite commenting on fics as much as I can, and participating in the fandom, there is still something utterly personal about fanfiction to me. It’s reading it on my phone as I’m shaky and queasy on my way to an exam, to a job interview, to an annoying doctor’s appointment. It’s loading up fics to my kindle and reading them at 3am on the plane when it kind of seems like neither time nor space are real anymore. It’s checking my ao3 subscription emails right after my alarm goes off because finding out a fave WIP updated might actually wake my brain up in a pleasant manner. I’m not exaggerating when I say I go through my life non-stop reading fics bit by bit.
What each and every one of the writers responsible for those fics gives me is priceless. And they are not even asking for a price! Just some damn decency.
The phrase “don’t like don’t read” might seem simplistic and in a way, almost illogical – except with the existence of meticulous tagging system, it becomes reality. Tags are there to warn and to entire. Writers, use them. Readers, read them. But it doesn’t stop there. It is, in fact, entirely possible to open a fic and find it wanting and still follow that directive. How? Close the damn tab. If you want to nitpick it, the phrase becomes “i have read, i haven’t liked, i have stopped reading”.
Now, we are people. We get passionate about fandoms, characters, ships, so I get that not everyone – not all the time – is capable of being so chill about being faced with something they seriously didn’t like.
Don’t inflict it on the author. And – and this is a peeve of mine – don’t passively aggresively inflict it on all the authors who might read your vague, public rant and think “is this me?” or who will add it to that ever growing list of mental barriers and doubts that we seem to be soaking up like sponges. Just tell it to a friend. Punch a pillow. Go and find a fic you love.
Remember that even though it seems your taste might be objective, or “common sense” – and this is easy to fall into especially when things like basic grammar are involved – it’s just not. Not in these cases. That description of my daily fic consumption I wrote above? That has been going on for years and years. Somewhat recently I decided to look up fics for an old ship of mine, remembering how deeply I loved them, how I reread them many times, and I was so giddy about getting to enjoy myself like that again. My reaction was a little “oh”. It was not only me whose tastes have changed, but also fandom and fic writing that has evolved, however, that doesn’t at all alter my past enjoyment. And for every fic you scoff at, there might be a reader who is at an entirely different place than you are, and is loving it. Don’t undo their support by your selfish lash out.
Bottom line, just focus on what you do. Focus on finding what you like. Support what you like. It’s not like “bad” and “good” fic are fighting for their place on the interwebs and only one can get the spot. This is not a limited space library.
If you need a more candid conversation about things like ships, characterizations and so on, turn to meta. Meta is there for people to disagree on, because meta should follow rules of logic and analysis. Fanfiction doesn’t have to.
Wise words from a wise lady, couldn’t have said it better.
Fandom isn’t so different from real life. There will always be people who enjoy things I don’t like and vice versa, no two people are the same. I often wonder if these people harass others in real life, too, if they bitch at somebody just because they like cheese. Because that’s what it comes down to, different tastes. So much energy wasted when there’s so much good to be had.
As promised, more ship babies!
Louis & Armand’s child (if raised during the Trinity Gate era) would be, by far, the most loved and well taken care of out of all the ship children, lol.
Daniel & Marius’ kid was a suggestion (I forgot who though…) but I imagine they would be the most ‘arty’ of the bunch and super, duper snide. Not as vindictive as like… Armand and Lestat’s possible offspring, but as much of an ass for sure.
Close Quarters
“So what if we had to sleep on lumpy pallets, and the neighbors woke us up with fighting.” -Lestat, The Vampire Lestat
Was it the first night? The second? Third? It had all been a whirlwind to me, the excitement of arriving in Paris, the world suddenly such a different place from where I’d spent the last 21 years. People everywhere, the stench of shit and piss in the streets, the sounds of horses and church bells and music everywhere. How I loved it.
We’d rented a tiny room at the top floor of a building–one bed, two windows, a shelf and a basin in which to wash. Such a small space! Such heaven to me, such cramped and glorious beauty.
The first night we’d made wild, happy love, tumbling into the lumpy, uncomfortable bed twisted and entwined and endlessly delighted in each other. The bells of a church chimed the hour in the distance, the moonlight spilling into the little window and onto the floor of the flat. I remember this image as I drifted off to sleep, a strange thought coming to me that I hoped my mother was okay, that she was becoming well again, perhaps.
It was maybe an hour later that I was roused, abruptly, by shouts. The wall above our head thudded as something hit it–something heavy.
“Nicolas–” I shook him, then, his eyes snapping open.
“What is it? What the hell–?” He sat up, nearly conking heads with me, both of us turned to face the wall behind the headboard.
The screaming continued, followed by the shattering of glass. I know my eyes widened, then–I’d experienced plenty of abuse and yelling in my years, yes, but never had I been privy to the violent fighting of complete strangers, not in such an intimate way. I’d grown up in a damn castle, for God’s sake–the walls were thick and the place devoured sound.
Then Nicolas began to laugh.
I snapped my eyes to his, “How can you laugh? It’s terrible!”
He fell back against the bedclothes, snatching my pillow as he laughed and throwing it at me.
“Welcome to Paris, Lestat.”
Un poco de Covada
y otro poco de Mpreg vampirico
(recuerdese que Lestat da por sentado que ambos convirtieron a Cladia)
family portrait
Artist Walead Beshty Shipped Glass Boxes Inside FedEx Boxes to Produce Shattered Sculptures
cant tell if pretentious or just petty about their experience with fedex
HQ- Miles McMillan // 2016 Polaroids/Portraits – FW ‘16