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Once more with sparkles

I think it was Anne Rice who popularized (if she didn’t outright invent) the concept of vampires as cold white marble statues, but the concept has influenced many subsequent vampire stories, and even spread its stony tendrils, via fanfic, into vampire mythoi which don’t use it. Jossverse vampires are in many ways a subversion of the Anne Rice model - they’re pale and they’re room-temperature, but in other respects they’re relentlessly down-to-earth. They can have sex, with all its attendant messiness. They have to shave (cf. Angelus’s various regrettable forays into facial hair through the centuries). If they don’t bathe, they get stinky, and if they eat people food, my bet is they have to dispose of it somehow. Even when they bite their victims, it’s not a couple of neat pinpricks, it’s a big messy ragged wound.

Moreover, while they gain immortality and strength, Jossverse vampires are presented as hideous monsters, who grow more monstrous with age. The loss of one’s soul in the Jossverse is not simply something for the vampire characters to angst about; it turns them into something indisputably evil and unfailingly horrific. Becoming a vampire is never presented as something to be desired in the Jossverse.

Fans, of course, often have other ideas. The vast majority of shippy fanfic dealing with one of the vampire characters emphasizes the marvelous advantages of vampires - erections of infinite duration! No body odor! Perfect, flawless marble-statue musculature! Etc. Traits such as paleness and lack of warmth, which were intended to remind the viewer that this is an animated corpse, become eroticized, and much of the vampire character’s attractiveness arises from their lack of squishy, stinky, human imperfections. (Some of these things are only dubiously canonical; we have, for example, Anya’s word that Spike smells good, and several characters mentioning that unwashed vampires smell bad, though it might be possible to argue that it’s the clothes rather than the vampires smelling in either case.)

On the other end of the spectrum, traits such as game face, or growling, which were intended to be animalistic and horrifying, are likewise eroticized by some writers. And again, these traits are often expanded into areas of dubious canonicity, as witness the myriad stories featuring vampires purring, or having a social structure which models that of a fantasy BDSM club predatory animal.

While I haven’t made any systematic study of this, I am mildly curious as to what extent the writers and readers who tend to go for the marble statue version overlap with the writers and readers who go for the grr!argh! version. I know that the former doesn’t do much for me, whereas I enjoy many but not all of the features of the latter. One of my writerly kinks is the intersection of the fantastic and the mundane. I always want to know that the plumbing is like in the magic castle. If vampires don’t smell, why don’t they? If they do smell, what do they smell like, and why? How many situps a day does it take to maintain those washboard abs, and does pig’s blood really go straight to your hips? So for me, the marble-statue vampire is a useful concept, if only because I take a perverse pleasure in subverting it. But in the end, it’s the growly stuff for me. Purring? Totally canon.

It strikes me that in some ways, this kind of thing is a way for readers and writers to have their Exotic Other cake and eat it too. There may come a time when fetishizing dark skin or epicanthic folds carries as little cultural baggage as fetishing blue eyes or freckles, but that day is not yet. But there’s no Undead American lobby to object to writers rhapsodizing over the perfection of Angel’s cold, marble-hard, chiseled white/ivory/ecru/whatever chest, or the salutary effect of Spike’s growl on Buffy’s [insert euphemism here.] We can safely dehumanize vampires, reduce them to a collection of things that make us tingly in our naughty places, because they’re already inhuman.

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Blah

I worked on “Little Sister” over the weekend, and got a reasonable amount done on the next chapter, considering that Kathy came down sick and I mooched around all Sunday feeling groggy and headachy. I’m in a “I’m going to finish all my fic and disappear from the face of the internet” sort of mood, which I know will pass, because, let’s face it, the odds of me finishing all my fic in anything less than a couple of years is tiny indeed. I also printed up invitations for the dozen or so people we want to send snail-mail copied to - I stopped by a Hallmark store on Friday and found some blank, printable invitations I liked. I need to print off envelopes, and we should be able to mail them off this week. So the weekend wasn’t a total loss, work-wise, even it the laundry is still mocking me, and the lawn needs mowing again after all the rain.

[info]tiirz is starting up her V:TM game again after a long hiatus, and I dug up my character sheet and dusted her off. The last time we ran a game, AtS was still on the air. Yeeks.

My back went out last night for no particular reason, and I could hardly walk this morning. Better now, but can we cancel September? Because so far, it sucks.

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There have been many posts lately about ideas, and how you get them. This post is about the next step: once you have an idea, what do you do with it?

Some time back, I got some feedback on “The Lesser of Two Evils” (the story where Spike kills Warren) which brought up, among other things, the fact that Warren had family in Sunnydale. And that gave me an idea. What if Warren’s mother came to Buffy and asked her to investigate her son’s disappearance?

Continue Reading »

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I just signed up for [info]seasonal_spuffy, dammit. Go thou and do likewise.

Yes, you! Don’t slink away from the monitor, I can see you! Click on that link! Now! Go!

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I made a pretty with all the relevant wedding/reception info - I think I’ve sent a copy to everyone who requested it, and quite a few who didn’t, but if I missed you out and you would like a copy, let me know. There are a couple of you for whom I only have snail mail addresses, and so you will get an actual paper invite shortly.

Why yes, I am approaching this whole wedding thing in a completely haphazard, “Whee! I have a barn! I have a trombone! Let’s put on a show!” way. Why do you ask?

I nerved myself to talk to my supervisor about the job issues today, and she was very enthusiastic about the idea of me applying for one of the new positions, providing they’re approved, which we’ll know by the end of the week. I keep forgetting that for some unaccountable reason my employers are a great deal more impressed with me than I am with myself. Part of me is still convinced that someday they’ll discover the Awful Truth, but until then… MWHAHAHAHA! World domination!

Anyway, thanks for the back-patting. I know that compared to many people I know, my problems amount to a hill of beans, and so I tend to downplay them to myself, and then when I write them all out like that it suddenly hits me than maybe one or two of them are worth being upset about.

And Kathy likes the salsa, so all is, I guess, not entirely lost.

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In which I stress

I keep starting posts and erasing them because they’re all so catastrophically boring. So, bullet points:

  • Re: Seasonal_Spuffy, torn between obligation to represent for ship, yo, and desire never to enter another ficathon again. Re: shiny other ficathons, ditto.
  • Made salsa. Did not turn out nearly as well as last time. Think I used wrong kind of vinegar. And yet my thumbs are all stingy with jalapeno juice. Stingy thumbs + mediocre salsa = WOE.
  • Massive changes coming at work - new database they’ve been begging for for years finally in production, departmental expansion featuring new quasi-managerial positions, me stressing out about whether or not I will qualify to apply for same, much less get them, much less succeed at them if I do get them. Much stressing over conversation I had with manager last quarterly evaluation, in which I blithely said I didn’t want to go into management - maybe reporting or something. However, quasi-managerial positions here, now, & paying more, putting possessors of same in line for Brighter & Better Things. Whereas nebulous non-managerial jobs in other departments not so much. Fingernails: I gnaw them.
  • I owe Kathy a birthday cake and a present. Also WOE.
  • Did not finish weeding the garden this weekend.
  • Mom is waffling about coming to the wedding. I understand that travel is difficult for her, at her age and with her health problems, and if she’d just come out and say “I don’t feel well enough to go,” or “It would exhaust me and I wouldn’t enjoy it,” I would be sad, but I’d understand. But she keeps coming up with stuff like “I can’t leave the cats alone” or “It would be too difficult to get handicapped access at the smaller airport,” and it makes me crazy. The last time we talked she seemed to be leaning back towards going, but it kind of hurts that she’s willing to travel to Portland for a week by herself to see my sister and the grandkids, but trying to duck out of this.
  • My sister’s on her last round of chemotherapy. Since her cancer had spread to so many lymph nodes, the chances of recurrence are high, so she’ll be going in for CT scans every six months for… pretty much the rest of her life, I guess. She still needs to consult with her surgeon on when or if they’re going to reverse her illiostomy. It’s good news as far as it goes, but she was saying the other day that the odds of her living to collect Social Security weren’t good. Not being depressed, just… factual. :(

Huh. Perhaps my salsa woe is displacement.

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This is the revised and beta’d version of my [info]lynnevitational fic. There have not been any major changes, but it’s been polished a fair bit, and some things have been clarified just a tad.

Every Silver Lining’s Got a Touch of Gray
By Barb C

Disclaimers: The usual. All belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy, and naught to me.
Rating: R. A mean nasty verging on NC-17 R. An R with ATTITUDE, baby!
Pairing: Buffy/Spike
Synopsis: After Angel convinces Spike to go undercover in an attempt to find out where Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, the vampire CEO of Wolfram & Hart, has hidden the muo-ping containing his soul, Angel and Buffy must rescue Spike before it’s too late. But Buffy and Spike have unfinished business of their own…
Author’s notes: Written for the 2008 . This story takes place in the same universe as “Raising In the Sun,” “Necessary Evils,” and “A Parliament of Monsters.” It’s set about eighteen years after POM, and is the third part of a three-part series of stories, the first two parts of which haven’t been written yet. I know, I know, I’m a terrible person. But it just came out that way! Many thanks to betas [info]slaymesftly. [info]kehf, [info]deborahc, and [info]shipperx!

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So I was having this Very Serious Discussion with my betas about the sex scenes in ESLHATOG (revised version should be up tomorrow, btw) and somehow or other, this was the result…

INT. BARB’S BRAIN

SPIKE is lounging in bed, perusing the latest issue of WSC. BUFFY is dressed in comfy PJs and sitting at her desk, reading e-mail.

SPIKE: Sodding Czechs…sodding defense… bloody, sodding Portsmouth…

BUFFY: [with a frown] Look at this!

SPIKE: [absorbed in the footy] Wossat?

BUFFY: Just look!

[She turns her laptop so SPIKE can see the following piece of SPAM}

Continue Reading »

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To the love of my life

Happy Birthday, Kathy!

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Drabble: Looks Like Fun

A drabble in belated honor of JM’s birthday:


Looks Like Fun

by Barb C
Disclaimers: The usual. All belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy, and naught to me.
Rating: PG-13
Setting: Post-Gift AU
Pairing: B/S
Distribution: Ask and you shall receive, I’d just like to know where it ends up.
Synopsis: Happy birthday to you!
Author’s notes: This story takes place in the same universe as “A Raising in the Sun” et. al.

“But I didn’t mean to!” Connie wailed.

“What you meant doesn’t matter!” Buffy snapped. “Honey, think about - ” She glared at Spike, whose rapt gaze lacked something in the parental reprimand line. “Back me up here!”

Spike tore his eyes away from the flames. “No more playing with lighters, sweetness.”

Buffy handed over the baby with an eyeroll. “Hold Alex. I’ve got to call our insurance agent. Bill! Stop pestering the firemen!”

Connie sniffled, clinging to Spike’s leg. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Your birthday cake needed all its candles.”

“So it did.” Spike looked down and grinned. “Best birthday prezzie ever!

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This is the free demo result. You can also download a complete website from archive.org.

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