Not being at The Vampire Lestat concert when I own as much The Vampireβs Wife as I do?
YOU ARE THE REASON

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@mobyfitzwilliam
Not being at The Vampire Lestat concert when I own as much The Vampireβs Wife as I do?

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the thing about phone in bed is that it's so awesome. almost makes you feel like betraying & destroying yourself for nothing isn't all so bad
new tapestry
2027 ; i will pay you to keep your hand over my mouth
FASHION CREDITS: 'MAYHEM: REQUIEM'
Lady Gaga is the ghost of her own broken-down and withered gothic opera house as she takes the stage for the Apple Music 'MAYHEM: Requiem' - the final chapter of this hauntingly beautiful era.
Photography by Jack Bridgland. Styling by Hunter Clem with assistance by Kallie Collett, Thomas Jay, Lisa Bruno, George Villalpando, Casper Tveteraas Hauge and Rebecca Moreno.

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i think the most beautiful thing about being a human is the capacity to change
the raven king / the black king / the king of the north / the king / john uskglass / john dβuskglass / his lost daoine sidhe name / the nameless slave
INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE, set design byΒ Mara LePere-Schloop
Loustat short comics - There is nothing else until the storm is over - Interview with the Vampire TV Series
text transcription under the cut β¬οΈ
Fake magazine illustration
βAnd even though youβre so far gone, Iβm still at Walden Pond.β

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πππππππππππ presents, βπ²ππππππππππ!β
Oscar Wilde Loves Me
Charlotte BrontΓ« Me, Baby
GHOSTWRITER - Preparations for the Halloween Ball
Dear Reader,
I sit writing this latest entry before my vanity, still in my suite at the McKittrick Hotel, ensconced in the Village of Gallow Green, as I dress for the Halloween Ball.
I often sit in contemplation here, considering how I appear to the others here. When first I would leave my quarters, I wore the Victorian mourning attire left for me, but my Mistress has since given me the ability to appear in other ways.
I have converted the gown into my own version of a suit, something a bit more androgynous. I am growing a collection of Vampiric capes, although I've heard tell that these make me appear more the Vampire's Wife than the beast, himself.
The Hotel is in the midst of seasonal change, as the preparations for the Halloween Ball come to fruition. Countless bouquets of florals are being carried into the ballroom, where each night I have begun my hauntings. Even the surrounding town has taken on the festivities at the request of my mistress.
Rumor has passed through the hotel and reached me that a Lost Garden has been rediscovered, set to be opened for the evening's festivities. What has gone unspoken is that this celebration has interrupted the normal goings-on of the hotel, seeming to release those under the spell of this place for an evening of phantasmagorical delirium.
"Back to Manderley? Why, I've never left." - A Story of the Ghostwriter
My Dear Reader,
Please forgive my long delay in correspondence. In writing my novel Ghostwriter, I have certainly lapsed in delivering unto you a timely update. However, please do not mistake this delay for a lack of fondness. Indeed, there is nothing I desire so much as to share my love of the McKittrick Hotel with you.
I have come to the conclusion that in the writing of my first days in staying at the McKittrick hotel I have been missing out on many things indeed I had thought that I would conclude the writing once I had checked out of the hotel and was safely on the train back to London and back to my normal world. Once I had boarded my train car, I would compile the madness of notes that I had created from my suite, and I would work them into something a bit more logical for a more extended release. For you see it was quite complicated staying up to date with all of the goings on within the hotel and indeed in the village of Gallow Green, while also staying on task and writing this novel.
Please, dear reader, do not fear. Ghostwriter is developing into something far more complicated and far grander than I ever could have imagined. I thank the guidance of my lady in red who during my initial stay at the McKittrick Hotel provided me with such enlightenment on my purpose here. So, what comes now? Well, it is a bit confusing how I went to leave the Mckitrick and boarded the train and yet as soon as I boarded the train and settled into my car, I was immediately getting out of it and re arriving at the McKittrick Hotel as if for the first time. More than once I have heard the phrase, "we can never go back to Manderley again," yet I continued going back to Manderley again and again and again as if it were the first time all over again.
And to this day I have never left.
Secrets lay further on at your own peril, dear reader.

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GHOSTWRITER - The Arrival, Continued.
I awoke the next morning having slept more soundly than I can truly ever recall. Encased in the heavy bed curtains and behind the thick velvet shades over the window, it was as if the outside world had entirely vanished. I rose quietly, for even in the safety of my room, it felt disrespectful to disturb the quiet of the place.
I opened the window quite slowly, looking out upon the world for the first time. Gallow Green is remarkable corner of the world, startingly beautiful, wide, bare, and open, and upon perceiving it fully that morning, I resolved myself to set out exploring. I shut the curtains, and looked about the room for my luggage, only to find them adjacent to the door, quite empty.
Upon opening the great wardrobe that say prominently across from my bed, I discovered that, somehow, the Porter had been able to unpack my belongings into it. Within sat my dinner suit, an overcoat, a black fur, and my underclothes, and various shirts and trousers to pair. Indeed, many of these items I did not recall carrying with me into the hotel. I must have forgotten that I had checked a much larger trunk on the train, which miraculously made it to the hotel upon my arrival at the end of the line.
At the far end of the rail, adjacent to the cape I had worn in the previous day, hung something odd. A black lace mourning gown, complete with veil and puffed sleeves, stood suspended in the air. Perhaps, I thought, it had been a left behind by a previous resident and was mistakenly overlooked by the Porter in his haste to unpack my belongings. Attached was a folded piece of paper. So
Sir,
Welcome to the McKittrick Hotel and Gallow Green. You have already made quite an impression here, and we are anxious to see what literature comes forth from your time. I am quite an admirer of your work, and I hope my corner of the world inspires you sufficiently.
Iβve sent this ahead as a gift, with hope that you will enjoy wearing it during your time here.
I look forward to crossing paths soon.
-H
GHOSTWRITER - The Arrival
I write with the full knowledge that this documentation will not be found until long after my death. Indeed, my purpose is not to be read, but to document this experience for personal posterity, as my only real intention is to work very perversely to please myself.
I have always seen myself as a character in a gothic novel, and after living this experience, I know that the final step is simply to record the story on paper.
Be warned, there will be little rhyme or reason to this tale at first, but much as I became acclimatized to the mystery as it unfolded, so too will you grow accustomed to the world, hypothetical reader.
One final word of warning. Darkness is contained within this text, and by engaging with it, it cannot be guaranteed that you shall be safe. Go safely forward, but beware.