Do you ever get a question that’s just so…obviously reaching, you can’t help but be amused by it?
To answer your question, no, it’s not my moral responsibility to ensure my work sets an example towards young adult readers, because it’s very clearly NOT intended for them. Thus, I do not—as you so kindly suggest—need to “tone it down a little”.
If you don’t like smut, fine, read the smut free version and see if you think that’s appropriate for your young person. Or don’t read my work at all. But don’t come at me like “as a concerned parent I feel that you should” because if you are a concerned parent then the responsibility lies with you to educate your child on what is and what is not appropriate reading material for their age. Not me.
I have marked my work for the appropriate age group which is firmly Adult, meaning 18+. I have been explicitly honest about this. I have been responsible. Now it’s your turn.
Like I’m sorry you came here to try and cause drama, Susan, but the ball’s in your court on this one.
Ok tumblr, let me tell you a little about the Vampire Chronicles and why this series should have a fucking huge fandom.
Now, do you see this hot piece of ass? That’s Louis, AKA the average sulking depressed and whiny teenage blogger incarnated + a whole bunch of pyromania, gay and pain. It’s IMPOSSIBLE not to like this motherfucker. Also he’s played by BRAD PITT. As in Brad fucking Pitt, Mr. Smith/that dude from Fight Club. With a wig. He gets to do a whole bunch of stuff like this
and this
with the vampire Lestat aka TOM CRUISE. It’s basically an entire movie filled with vampires(and c’mon tumblr you like supernatural stuff), flaming homosexuals and ANGST. ISN’T THIS WHAT YOU BLOGGERS WANT?
AND THAT’S ONLY THE FIRST BOOK.
Does it get better? Oh yes. This fucking series contains not four, not six, but TEN BOOKS. This ain’t no Harry Potter or Hunger Games shiz, this is serious fucking business. TEN BOOKS OF ANGSTY GAY VAMPIRES LIKE C’MON TUMBLR U LIKE THIS DON’T U.
And I’m not exaggerating the gayness of this series. NOPE. We have some REAL golden stuff like:
“Now, I’m getting into the coffin, and you will get in on top of me if you know what’s good for you.”
“You do realize, that this is an absolutely magnificent body, don’t you? I mean you aren’t insensible to the fact that you’ve been deposited in a…a most impressive piece of young male flesh.”
“- Have you suffered in my absence? – It was pure hell. Each risk you take hurts me. But that is my concern and fault. – Why do you love me? – You know, you’ve always known. I wish I could be you. I wish I could know the joy you know all the time. – And that pain, you want that as well? – Your pain? Certainly. I’ll take your brand of pain anytime, as they say.”
The first in my Anne Rice Vampire Chronicles outfit series: the beautifully tortured and angsty Louis de Pointe du Lac ⚰️
Shirt – Punk Rave Extensions dyed with Directions Pants are second hand (Allsaints), Boots from Modcloth, jacket also second hand (Hearts & Roses) Instagram(please don’t remove caption)
When I first came back, in the 1980s, I was discovering modern music through dirty, grungy, unknown little bands who would play in underground clubs, forgotten basements of warehouses, and garages of abandoned mansions, etc. They reminded me of the Commedia Players of old or of the players in the theatre–messy, cheap paint on their faces, filthy in lovely, bohemian ways. Poor, underpaid, doing it purely for the glory with no thoughts towards money or fame.
One of those nights I was listening to a band play in one of those places–an old warehouse, mostly rusted steel girders and rotting brick walls at the point, and older musicians that I usually listened to or jammed with, but they’d welcomed me in with a smile and a the offer of a cigarette–and I remember one of the members putting in a cassette tape and playing it.
I knew it was him the moment I heard it. You don’t forget his music, mortal or immortal, not once you know it. Not once he’s played it for you, only for you, and imprinted those scars underneath your skin.
If my blood could have run cold in that moment, it would have. As it was, I grew eerily still in only the way that we can, to the point where I recall one of the mortals asking me if I was okay, did I need a drink, did I need some air?
I vaguely remember mumbling some sort of excuse and leaving. I remember the room seeming blurred, not real, the mortal voices and instruments nothing but a piece of artwork dipped in water in the background of my vision as I fumbled my way out of the building.
You see, I didn’t know then that he had lived. I had no idea. It was the last thing on my mind that Nicolas might still be alive somewhere, might not have perished, and might still be making music on that thrice-damned instrument out there in the world.
I told myself that I must have been mistaken, or convinced myself that I had been hearing ghosts instead of reality. I have often suffered thus; it would not have been a new feeling for me.
It wasn’t until decades later, when I practically ran him over in Paris, that I realized that I’d actually heard him in that grungy warehouse in New Orleans. It had been him, yes. He was alive.
I-want-my-IWTV 