Never feel guilty for reading fan fic at 3am. Everything is fanfic in the end. From fanfic you were made, to fanfic you shall return.
Read that which has been panned by literary snobs. Read novels churned out by the dozen by authors with a dozen pseudonyms.
Read your US and People. Flip through Popular Science just for the gadgets section. Read articles about the perfect chocolate chip cookie.
Read books outside your comfort zone. Don’t finish them if you don’t want. It’s the book’s fault, not yours.
Read in your comfort zone. Read a YA and romance and science if and fantasy.
Skip over the boring bits. Read it because you heard about it from Oprah or because everyone else is reading it.
Giggle yourself silly at something so poorly written and full of author wish fulfillment that you just can’t stop reading it.
Don’t listen to the keepers of taste and culture. Their reward comes every time they pat themselves on the back for their superior taste.
Don’t listen to the academics that bemoan the downfall of society and learning. They have been doing that since Socrates’ time.
Don’t listen to the tv presenters who insist you are not cultured if you haven’t read from this list of books.
Audio books count as reading. Ebooks count as reading. Fanfic of questionable quality counts as reading. Rereading books for the third time counts as reading. Reading to your child counts as reading. Reading from the back of the cereal box (and doing the puzzle) counts as reading.
TL;DR: read what you want. Don’t be ashamed. Never let someone try to make you feel bad for how or what you read and enjoy. Tell them that I, your Friendly Neighborhood Librarian have absolved you from your guilt and have given you special blessings. Go forth and read, my child.
Tag Archives: fanfic
Drabble request please – lestat having a wardrobe crisis ^..^ thank you in advance
[Can I recycle this one? It
was for @gairid and Stellie.
This is sorta cheating to post an older one so I’ll try to think of another, too]
A Fitting
Lestat putting on a little fashion show for Louis! Modern-day. No spoilers apply.
“How long does it take for you to change?” I said, slumping further into what these stores affectionately call “the boyfriend chair.” I checked my phone for the time, but did not remember the last time I’d checked it, so I tucked it back in place fruitlessly.
He stepped out of the fitting room sheathed in an amount of intricate dark red satin and chiffon that left just the right amount of flesh to the imagination. His long finger twirled a loose ribbon, a trickle of blood, as he studied my reaction. The scarlet enhanced the scant golden hair on his arms, legs, and broad chest. It gave him an altogether rosy glow.
In a blink he had crossed his arms and jutted out a smooth hip, sulking. “What, you don’t like it?” He gave his blond mane a toss and huffed. The saleswoman’s mouth had fallen open, as if seeing a miracle. She mumbled something about being wrong that a man couldn’t ‘pull off’ this outfit. I licked my lips. I could pull it off of him right then and there.
Lestat swiveled around and assumed a few classical sculpture poses in the 3-way mirror, but this was playing, still watching me.
“Really Louis, you’re hurting my feelings. Cat got your tongue? I’ve tried on so many and you just sit there.” He pouted, and I stood, stretching my limbs.
“Just because I don’t rain praise upon you,” I said, pressing my body against his in a sensual embrace, and he watched in the mirror as I ran my fingers along the edges of the thin fabric. “Does not mean you haven’t conquered me.”
Once again thank you very much.
I’m so glad you enjoyed it! Good to know that the effort was appreciated *hugs*
I guess I am unofficially taking drabble requests *o* whether I can fill them in a timely a manner like this, or at all, isn’t guaranteed, but hey, send it and I’ll consider it!
Easier prompts tho: words or holidays.
“What can I do to make you love me?” he whispered. (Armand/Lestat) I like the gif, isn’t the fire so beautiful? And yes that sounds beyond perfect. I just want Lestat to reciprocate the love of Armand, can you imagine them together as lovers through the time? I sure can. Thank you, Burnadette!
Alright, I managed to fill your request, hope this satisfies you! I tried to give you what you asked for, but to really make this ship work, I would need to write SO much more, since it is a tough ship to ship, with neither of them really willing to /completely/ overlook or forgive their past behavior towards each other, but this is a step in the right direction.
Takes place after Prince Lestat. Here’s an excerpt of A Brief Reprieve:
What can I do to make you love me?” He whispered.
“Are you kidding me? I do love you!” I scoffed, planting a little kiss on top of his head. “You want a certificate? Want it engraved on a plaque?” I said, nosing into his hair.
“Be serious, Lestat.”
“I’m dead serious. Undead serious.” I laughed, leaning back and pulling him to lay back against me.
Armand gazed up at me in silence, a soft smile on his face, then looked back at the fire. What did he want from me? We had just spent the entire evening together, killed together, and then curled up together in front of a roaring blaze as the snow fell outside the window. He felt good in my arms, all collected up and warm. What could be better? Aside from the throbbing pain in my head. That left something to be desired.
“How does it feel right now?” He said. He stared at the fire.
“What?”
“You know. Holding the Sacred Core.”
“Good Lord, don’t call him that. It inflates his ego and I’ll get a splitting headache.”
“There isn’t room enough for all that ego in there, is there?” Armand chuckled, tapping at my forehead. I took his hand and kissed the fingertips.
“Sometimes there really isn’t.” I sighed. It was true, Amel was my own permanent backseat driver. For now, he was murmuring to himself, but it was growing louder. Soon, he would want to be included in whatever I was doing.
Slash Fic Gothic
You have blond hair, he has brown hair. You always have blond hair, he always has brown hair. You dye your hair brown, but suddenly his hair is blond, and you feel as though maybe you are him, and he is you, and you have blond hair again, and he has brown hair.
His gaze is impossibly fond, his eyes are impossibly blue, he pulls you impossibly closer, your heart beats impossibly fast, the bulge in his pants is impossibly hard, he should maybe get that checked out.
You don’t remember ever working out and yet you look down and see you have a six pack. When you next see yourself in the mirror you have an eight pack. When he takes of your shirt you have ten, twelve abs. You’re scared to look again in case there are more.
His eyes change colour depending on his moods. At first you thought it was a trick of the light, but now you’re not so sure. They switch between blue, green and grey. Once you thought you saw a flicker of red. You make sure to kiss with your eyes closed now.
You’re white, and so is he. Sometimes he’s your enemy, but you still love him, don’t you? Of course, it makes sense. You’re not sure what you like about him, exactly, but there must be something, right? There’s this intangible thing between you, isn’t there? You feel like you may have more chemistry with your non-white friend, but that can’t be right.
You don’t remember taking your clothes off but you’re naked now. Well, all you remember is toeing out of your shoes. You always toe out of them, although you don’t quite know what that means.
Your pronouns mix into a blur and you no longer know where you end and he begins… You reach out your hand to his hand on his arm… your arm… his… You are sitting and he straddles you but is facing away… There are hands everywhere…
THE ACCURACY HURTS.
You smell like sandlewood. You don’t know what sandlewood even IS.
Once your shoes are off, you pad everywhere. You try to walk, but you can’t, your feet don’t comply. Your only option if you want to get from room to room is to pad.
Your tongues battle for dominance. There can be only one victor. One tongue is not walking away from this battle. Will it be yours?
He tastes like smoke and wine, whatever he had for dinner, and something distinctly him. You don’t know what that taste is or where it comes from… only that it is distinctly…him…
Is he The Smaller Man? Or The Larger Man? Are you The Pale Man? Are you The Slender Man? The Blond Man? You no longer have a name… you are just an epithet.
You thought you were about the same size, but, the clothes come off… and he’s The Larger Man. So large. He’s got six inches on you. You can tuck your head under his chin. Ten inches now… is he growing? Are you shrinking?
It’s weeping. OH GOD WHY IS IT WEEPING?
he’s on his knees before you, engulfing you, so you must grip his hair. not to guide him, never to guide, only to hold steady. only to remind, reassure, remain for eternity. you will never let go, even when it’s over. your hand stays, always.
Everything between you and him is electric. It’s sizzles and sparks. Is there a short circuit? Maybe you should check the breakers.
You find out you have incredibly sensitive nipples. So does he. Is that common? Why are they always pebbled?
Your orgasm is violent. It threatened your family. Your orgasm is actually the antagonist.
Inexplicably, your semen is made of ribbons and ropes. It can paint, but only in splatters and stripes. Very Jackson Pollock.
The whole time I read this I read it in Cecil Palmers voice and it made this 10x funnier
I just wanted to let you know I really liked your fan-fiction. I’m kinda new and young to the vampire chronicles but my mom is an Anne Rice Veteran (read @ 12), and I used to try to read her copies when I was very small but she chased me off in a “not yet little one” manner. Well I rediscovered them recently through a friend and I appreciate them so much more than I would have at 8 b/c I’d have missed many nuances. Your interpretation btw of the characters is so spot on I adore it. Keep it up!!
Merci beaucoup!! You made my day
♥u♥
(of course I don’t write fanfic, anywhere, what kind of horrible meanie would do that?? yes i do actually)(And that is so sweet of you, my interpretation of the characters is spot on?! *hugs* Most of it comes from my own headcanon, but I’m also grateful to be in this fandom and have the benefit of such good headcanons to absorb through other ppls fanworks and RP, etc. <3)
#I love these kind of stories, how ppl got their first taste of this stuff… you were 8?? That’s very young, yep, you probably would have missed certain things… and it sounds to me like it got this Forbidden Fruit quality for you like it did for me. I was 11, and while my parents didn’t stop me from reading it, I wasn’t old enough to see the movie!IWTV in 1994, so I had to wait until it was on VHS (YES I AM THAT OLD) to see it, and even then, it was rated R so I had to sneak over to my friend’s house to watch it. I had bought a copy from another friend and relabeled the tape Forrest Gump, and for some reason my parents never thought it strange that I had 2 copies of that movie… they probably never noticed lol.
But I am jealous that your mom (AR Veteran! omg I bet I am closer to her age than yours) is into it. I tried to get my parents into it a few yrs back, and they made it through the first two books and then dropped it. OH WELL. At least now I can quote canon occasionally and they have an idea of what I’m referencing.
Wretched Anxiety – great-pan-is-dead (TheCrimsonDream) – Vampire Chronicles – Anne Rice [Archive of Our Own]
In a terrible state, Louis tries to deter Claudia from her intentions to kill Lestat, and Claudia sees a side in them unkown to her.
(sort of) Prompt: “…to tell of the times he came to me in wretched anxiety, begging me never to leave him…” –Lestat, TVL
Claudia POV—
The closer an exam gets the higher my fanfic productivity goes up
Can’t decide if I’m satisfied this is finished, but what can I really expect from what started as overgrown drabbles scribbled in notebooks.
Stain on the Collar – Burnadette_dpdl
*~Fresh fanfic~*
Reception (Fourth; Awaken) – Burnadette_dpdl – Interview With the Vampire (1994) [Archive of Our Own]
[IWTV-era] Lestat brings Louis to a gathering, once again aiming to correct his fledgling’s dietary choices. Like many offspring do, the offer of the right kind of sustenance is still met with resistance.
Why fan fiction is so important #10yrsago
Teresa Nielsen Hayden:
In a purely literary sense, fanfic doesn’t exist. There is only fiction. Fanfic is a legal category created by the modern system of trademarks and copyrights. Putting that label on a work of fiction says nothing about its quality, its creativity, or the intent of the writer who created it.
The Pulitzer Prize for Fiction this year went to March, a novel by Geraldine Brooks, published by Viking. It’s a re-imagining of the life of the father of the four March girls in Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. Can you see a particle of difference between that and a work of declared fanfiction? I can’t. I can only see two differences: first, Louisa May Alcott is out of copyright; and second, Louisa May Alcott, Geraldine Brooks, and Viking are dreadfully respectable.
I’m just a tad cynical about authors who rage against fanfic. Their own work may be original to them, but even if their writing is so outre that it’s barely readable, they’ll still be using tropes and techniques and conventions they picked up from other writers. We have a system that counts some borrowings as legitimate, others as illegitimate. They stick with the legit sort, but they’re still writing out of and into the shared web of literature. They’re not so different as all that.
I-want-my-IWTV 