astonishing how good it can feel to get some chores done sometimes. you’ll be sitting there like damn i am some type of horrid little smeagol like creature who should be crushed to death. but then you do some laundry and you’re like wrow. im actually gods most fuckable soldier.
Here is our protagonist hes going to tell you a story. But some of it he's remembered wrong -- was it raining that night? And some of it he's obfuscating or skirting or deliberately lying about. He's admitted the first time he tried to tell this story was a performance. Also he hallucinates, sometimes. Oh, and there are characters who can erase and alter memories. When does he mix up a detail? When is he lying? When is he telling what he thinks is the truth but he's just wrong or being lied to himself?
Here's Claudia's diaries. The written word, in her own words. Surely we can trust them! Except she knew her diaries were being read by her fathers/brothers/jailors. She had reason to present her life in a certain way in those writings, reasons to not write down everything. And same as any other person,even if she was writing the truth, she was limited by her perspective of what that was. Here are her diaries but some of the pages have been ripped out, censored by other people.
Here is Rashid. Except no, he's really the vampire Armand. He can erase memories. He was pretending to be someone else. His name was never Rashid. It isn't really Armand either, he doesn't even know his own name, or all of his own story, Armand will do.
Here is Real Rashid. Even Rashid isn't what he appears to be. He works for a shadowy organization.
Here is Daniel Malloy, our journalist, our interviewer. It is his job to ask questions, provide evidence reveal the truth. But even he can't trust his own altered memories. He has time he can't account for, gaps in his memories from years of drug abuse and one bad trip from a week of drug AND vampire abuse. He is not an objective observer, he too is a part of the story he is trying to tell.
Here is Lestat de Lioncourt. Except not really. maybe once at the end. Here he is through memories, and other peoples stories and hearsay. Here is the seducer, the boogieman, the abuser, the victim, the Vampire. He haunts the narrative, and starts the narrative, and is, in many ways, the bleeding heart of the tragic narrative and he never tells his own story in his own words.
Here is a trial. Except its a play--prewritten, rehearsed! the accused can barely speak for themselves. The audience has no choice but to laugh along to the story being shoved down their throats. its only a story. You can see the fake limp rope, when that one vampire 'flies' - its all pretend, its all a show...right?
Loustat short comics - There is nothing else until the storm is over - Interview with the Vampire TV Series
text transcription under the cut ⬇️
Fake magazine illustration
Page 1
Daniel : So, tell me... Did you see Lestat again?
Page 2
Louis : When he's not on Tour, he would occasionally visits.
Page 3
Daniel : So you're what, now? Friends?
Louis : [Hello Lestat.]
Lestat : [Hello Louis.]
It would be too simple. You know us.
Louis : [ That's new. Still enjoying the glitz and glamor?]
But there is this arrangement we are both fine with.
Page 4
When two people hurt each other so deeply, what is left afterwards?
Page 5
Things like that, it seals doors once still unlocked at the time. Can time really heal everything?
[Mets moi dans mon cercueil, Louis, Louis...]
Page 6
[Stay down chéri, I don't want to fight like this. I'll stay. I'll stay, I'll never leave you ever again. I promise. I'll be happy. For you. For her. Please please please please]
Some things were flipped over to show the truth. Others, I learned to see differently. I faced my wrongs.
[I'll be anything please please please please please please. I didn't know it was a gift. I wore it like a curse. I was selfish. I wanted you to suffer. Because I was. Suffering. I came to thank you.]
Page 7
Do we love each other still? Yes. Can we live under the same roof, share the same spaces, the same bed, for an extended period of time, again? No. But this raging, all devouring passion, it is now replaced by something that can never be altered. Is this the price we had to pay to finally be equals?
Page 8
We have never been more understanding of each other. A shadow of something that could have been from the start. Friendly jokes. Bickering I will never admit enjoying. Respect. And then, the always surprising softness. So eerie after all that happened. Yet, we always welcome it.
Page 9
Daniel : [How dramatic. Not ready to live together again, yet he's all over your coffee table.]
Louis: [I didn't buy these.]
Daniel : [Sure. Will you let me know the next time he passes by?]
Louis : [Well I can't. This is his safe place. You will have to find him by yourself I'm afraid.]
Daniel : [Of course. He can't make anything easy. As if he didn't have enough safe places with his ten properties.]
Page 10
Louis: [Nice chat. Bye, Daniel.]
Lestat : [Only when I'm not on Tour, hm?]
Louis [Approximately.]
Lestat : [Thanks.]
Louis : [Did you really just say thank-]
Lestat: *kisses Louis* [...too soon?]
Page 11
Louis : Almost a century is enough waiting.
Whenever Louis gets really mean it’s not because he’s tapping into his true vampiric self, it’s actually him channeling the hating ass spirit of his mother.
"Know only this, mon cher, you are the only being I trust, and whom I love, above and beyond myself. All my love belongs to you. You are its keeper. A veil will now forever separate our union. But it is a thin veil and I am always on the other side, face pressed up against your longing."
"How do you write such realistic dialogue-" I TALK TO MYSELF. I TALK TO MYSELF AND I PRETEND I AM THE ONE SAYING THE LINE. LIKE SANITY IS SLOWLY SLIPPING FROM BETWEEN MY FINGERS WITH EVERY MEASLY WORD THEY TYPE OUT. THAT IS HOW.
I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing. I hate editing.
please please please please reblog if you’re a writer and have at some point felt like your writing is getting worse. I need to know if I’m the only one who’s struggling with these thoughts
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