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free-for-all-fics · 1 year ago

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Phantom of the Opera AU Prompt inspired by Disney’s Phantom Manor! Some dialogue and inspiration taken from Mystery Legends: Phantom of the Opera and the Leroux novel, but this could work for whichever version you like! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by this and I’d love to read it! 👻🤍

The Phantom's identity had been treated as ambiguous for a long time, a random dark spirit that arbitrarily chose to ruin your wedding. After several years, the story of what really happened came out from underneath the charred and blackened rubble of the Paris Opera House:

After your mother died when you were six years old, life didn’t go as your father, Joseph Buquet, had hoped it to be. He’d often get drunk and grab you, yelling about how he was a failure before bursting into tears. Every time he’d do that, you also cried and begged him to stop, telling him it was all your fault. When he sobered up, he’d embrace you and give you treats, apologizing for what he’d done. But as his money wore away, he'd have these fits more and more often. At least you still loved your father, but he was all that you had and you had to sing in the streets to make some money to provide for him and yourself, at least until he found a job. He couldn’t seem to hold one for long, though. The few coins you did make, he would take the tin can you collected them in and spend most of it on alcohol for himself, or sometimes a cheap toy or doll if he was feeling guilty for not being a better man and father to you. To make ends meet, your father didn’t have much choice but to join the Paris Opera as the chief stagehand while you joined the chorus when you were ten years old.

He began telling you and anyone who would listen stories of an Opera Ghost that haunted the theatre, describing his horrific corpse-like face in great detail. His ghost stories frightened the ballet girls, but you had heard this kind of talk from him before, so you just thought he was on another one of his drunken ramblings. You didn’t think much of it. Despite being warned not to, your father got himself drunk and wandered down into the Opera House catacombs for some inexplicable reason. Maybe he was trying to follow someone?

He never returned to the surface and was later found dead, hanged in the third cellar between a flat and a set piece from “Le roi de Lahore”. Unbeknownst to anyone, his corpse was right next to the entrance to the Phantom's torture chamber. Due to his intoxicated state and the cause of death, it was ruled a depression-driven suicide…but was it really? Left all alone, you were a bastard and an orphan, a peasant girl trying to make your way in the world and a name for yourself with your singing, but your singing wasn't anything special before your lessons with the Angel of Music, whom you believed had been sent to you from Heaven by your deceased father.

Under the Angel’s tutelage, you were almost supernaturally skilled at singing. During those many months, you went from a light soubrette to a dark soprano of almost divine quality. You only communicated with your Angel through your dressing room wall, never seeing his face or learning his name. A string of admirers, all obviously enraptured, stared on in plain view while you performed on stage. As your voice rang throughout the concert hall, he reflected from the shadows of Box 5 on how well he had taught you and how you had given yourself over to him, your Angel of Music.

In womanhood, many men vied for your hand but none were ever good enough for you in the Phantom’s eyes. He deeply resented all of your suitors, so he terrorized them in the hopes he’d scare them into leaving the Opera House forever, never to return. But despite his best attempts, your suitors were stubborn skeptics who refused to believe in ghosts and wouldn’t leave, still insistent on pursuing you romantically. They ignored all his threats and warnings, so the Phantom murdered them all, one-by-one. He wanted to have you all to himself. You spent most of your time under the Phantom’s power, helpless to act against him in fear that he'd hurt either you or someone else in the Opera House.

He kidnapped you multiple times, with the intention of romancing you and making you his living wife so that he could buy you nice things and take you out on Sundays. He held you prisoner in a luxurious Louis-Philippe bedroom, keeping you like a songbird in a gilded cage to sing only for him. He would always drug you with a cursed fragrance to ensure your cooperation - He lived a life where trust and faith were impossible luxuries. He forced his gold wedding ring on your finger and warned you that you mustn’t lose it. You were protected so long as you wore it, and it was then that he finally revealed to you that he was called Erik. Erik’s ring was rather plain, quite old and rusty. Wedding rings were quite expensive and he didn’t have enough money to buy a new ring.

“This ring is one of my most precious possessions. This was my poor mother’s wedding ring. This ring deprived my poor mother of her freedom, instead gifting her with a hideous son. But for you, this ring symbolizes the promise of freedom. Unless you are curious as to the consequences of denying my love, then be sure to keep hold of my ring. After this damn month I promised you, you will become my bride. This was your destiny, from the moment you met the Angel of Music! You shall be mine, and stay in my damned hell with me forever! I can already hear the wedding bells! Kyrie….Kyrie.…Kyrie eleison...”

You later fell in love with and became engaged to another man. Despite the Phantom becoming increasingly controlling and aggressive towards you, you developed a case of Stockholm Syndrome so bad that you frantically urged your fiancé to take you far away from the Opera House and the Phantom before the month was out, no matter how much you begged to be taken back. Not that he had a chance to follow up on his promise…

Your paramour didn’t like that you were wearing Erik’s ring. He wanted to marry you himself and didn’t want to keep your engagement secret, despite your insistence that it had to be this way for everyone’s sake. You confided in your fiancé that you fell madly in love with the Phantom, but you were also terrified of the control he had over your soul. You couldn't recognize yourself anymore, and did whatever he told you. When your fiancé tried to tell you that you were in over your head with a man you didn't know, you gave him the familiar, "You-don't-know-anything-about-him-it's-none-of-your-business" speech.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Erik eavesdropped on you and learned of your plans to run away and elope. You thought you could escape to the roof and keep secrets from him, but you were gravely mistaken. He could be everywhere. He could see and hear everything! He could move through the walls and doors in the Opera. He couldn’t bear the prospect of you being taken away from him forever, so he rigged all the doors and windows in the Opera House so everything would be locked or stuck. No key would open anything, and no weapon or tool could break through. He sabotaged any and all attempts to escape to the outside. No horses or carriages would come to rescue you or anybody else trapped inside. And even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to do anything. Erik had fallen in love with you, became fixated on you. His restless spirit wanted you and, mark his words, he would have you. He wouldn’t be denied.

“I had given you everything, yet you chose him over me! The pain I felt would pale in comparison to the destruction that would follow.”

You and your fiancé had no other choice but to hold your nuptials in the Opera House. On your wedding day, you were thoroughly distressed when you lost Erik’s ring because you didn’t know what would happen. The mysterious Opera Ghost appeared in your vanity mirror, seeking revenge on you for your betrayal. Legend has it that, while you were preparing in your room, the Phantom lured your fiancé up into the discreet and secluded attic, where he hanged him by the neck from the rafters with his Punjab Lasso. In the ballroom, the bride sat alone. The wedding march played and you waited, but many hours went by with no sign of your groom. Guests slowly filed away, leaving you alone in the makeshift church with the staff. You kept telling the butlers and maids that he would come.

"Someday," you told yourself, "he will come.”

And so, having never taken off your wedding dress or dropped your bouquet, in preparation for your beloved’s return, you wandered the Opera House aimlessly, singing melancholy songs of lost love. Erik found the ring and he gave it back to you, forcing it on your finger once more. This time he made sure your soul would be bound to his and you could never take it off. You became infuriated when you learned your "Angel" was, in actuality, a malevolent specter with the appearance of a rotting corpse. He tricked you. He took advantage of you in your fragile and vulnerable emotional state while you were grieving your father, whom he murdered. Just like how he murdered your fiancé and God knows who else. Your capacity to anger was much more pronounced when you briefly attacked him and finally snarled at him that you hated him and you had no sympathy for him after all the evil he’d done.

“Who are you really?”

“Have you forgotten your Angel of Music already? I shall show you everything and make you remember! Don’t you dare raise your hand to me! What you see is who I am. Who I’ve always been. Who I will always be. Do you like what you see? Know,” he shouted, while his throat throbbed and panted like a furnace, “know that I am built up of death from head to foot and that it is a corpse that loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you! Your freedom had nothing to do with letting you marry that unworthy man. Did you truly think I'd let you get away with your affair? I did what I had to, for our love! I will kill all who stand in our way and set you free! You will curse the day you betrayed me.”

You were the obsession of a nigh-unstoppable, hideous, insane, stalking serial killer who wanted to marry you and keep you underground with him forever until you died. The vulnerability of being the trapped love of a monster was especially palpable as when you took a bath in Erik’s lair you kept some scissors close by, ready to kill yourself - out of the fear Erik would rape you while you were naked. While Erik never forced himself on you and showed no interest in anything of a sexual nature, he still wanted you to never leave his side. That domination he had over you was very unsettling, especially given how traumatized you were by it.

When Erik prepared to force you to marry him, you attempted to kill yourself to escape him by stabbing yourself or slitting your wrists or throat with the scissors, but Erik intervened and took those away from you. You then bashed your head against a wall, hoping you’d be sent to Heaven or Hell to escape him. The soft darkness of nothing, in all of its shadowed velvet embrace, would be better than this Purgatory you found yourself in. You didn’t succeed. The Phantom stopped you from killing yourself by tying you to a chair. Another sigh, deeper, more tremendous still, came from the abysmal depths of your soul.

"Why did you cry out, my love?”

"Because I am in pain, Erik."

"I thought I had frightened you."

"Erik, unloose my bonds…Am I not your prisoner?"

"You will try to kill yourself again."

You once again sat at your dresser in your boudoir, an old woman, crying and rubbing your eyes with a tissue. Your dress that was once a pristine white became stained with gray and brown spots. From dust and…dirt or dried blood? You couldn’t remember. Your bouquet of red roses became black. What manner of sorrow could rob a rose of its very color? Tear-stained letters between you, your fiancé, a friend, and your father could be seen sitting on a table, along with your wedding portrait. What a pity it would remain incomplete. What a pity your groom-who-never-was-to-be would never get his portrait painted to hang alongside yours.

Erik still inhabited the Opera House, laughing and mocking your human devotion to your intended husband. There was no reason why he did all these evil deeds, and even if there was one, he apparently loved to do it. In the following years, he invited his dead and demonic friends from the afterlife to fill the Opera House in an eternal party. Your wedding march became a sinister organ rendition of the Phantom’s own design, his music scores written in dark red ink - Wait, not ink, blood. Fret not, beloved, for if he drew all these music scores with his blood, he wouldn’t be standing here before you. This piece was either a wedding mass or a requiem mass. It was up to you to decide.

A dark curse fell upon the Opera House. The state of it and the surrounding grounds was slowly transformed and corrupted by the evil forces, until it was abandoned indefinitely, with you presumably dying inside, never having found your groom. In present day it’s derelict and the grounds are overrun with bramble, plants, and trees that have grown wild. All the flowers have died and can no longer grow in tainted soil.

“Oh, how long I have waited for this day! Welcome back, my love. Welcome to my realm. Here our lives will begin anew. This time I will make you love me. This time you won’t leave me. This time…you will stay with me forever. You denied me love, and I shall deny you freedom.”

Erik has condemned the poor bride to haunt the Opera House for all eternity. To this day, it’s believed that the Opera House is still haunted by yours and Erik’s ghosts, along with his 999 ghastly guests. He continues to haunt you from beyond the grave. Unlike the rest of the ghosts who are lost and wandering souls, he's a purely evil and homicidal spirit who enjoys being cruel, and seems intent on tormenting you. You remain vigilant in the search for your lost love, but waiting for over a century for your groom - and living with Erik’s abuse - has taken its toll on you.

So desperate for true love and affection after years of loneliness and maltreatment from the Phantom, you propose to anyone who dares to step foot inside the Opera House, in the vain hope that one of them will save you and take you away from here. When that doesn’t work, you urge them to turn back. If they don’t heed your first warnings, you point them in the right direction and try to help them escape the Opera House while Erik taunts them. You warn them against going down certain hallways, knowing they’d lead straight into deadly traps or Erik himself, but sometimes they’re so afraid and on edge that they don’t stop to think or listen to you. Your attempts to save people from Erik don’t always succeed, but you keep trying anyway as an act of defiance against him. Many guests have entered the Opera house and only a lucky few have ever made it back out, but that few is enough to motivate you to keep fighting against Erik.

Erik’s disembodied voice greets the guests as he makes an impassioned speech about the beauty that once lived in the Opera House, insisting that beauty lives here still, before lightning strikes and a cloaked man is visible from the rafters, hanging your groom. His corpse swings down above everyone’s heads, sometimes with a sickening crack as if his neck has just been broken. The Phantom materializes in the conservatory only as a shadow, invisibly playing the piano, then in the ballroom, standing in a shattered window obscured by darkness, laughing at the crying bride. A few rooms later, he’s standing outside the Bride’s Boudoir and makes himself fully visible to you as a skeleton-faced man, a living corpse.

The Phantom is next seen laughing and gesturing to your coffin - an unmarked, ornate black tomb where you will find no rest nor peace. Guests who touch it feel warmth emanating from beneath the coffin’s lid while something inside is pulsing. The rhythmic vibrations give off the sensation of a beating heart that’s still pumping blood. Erik appears one last time, staring down at you from a window on the second floor of the Opera House before finally disappearing. He intends to never, ever let you leave the Opera House. Are the subsequent guests who come to visit going mad or is this place truly haunted? What sort of sick fantasy is this?

Those brave enough to venture down below into the catacombs beneath the Opera House and fortunate enough to survive the dark and disorienting descent down into Erik’s lair will find a crypt that holds a black coffin that matches yours. There’s an inscription in the stone. It reads, “Here Lies the Angel of Music”. Is this where the Opera Ghost is buried? But wait, that doesn’t make any sense! The Phantom of the Opera is just a myth, an urban legend, a ghost story to scare kids. It was just a tactic to boost public interest in the Opera House and increase ticket sales and tourism! Why would a person who never truly existed have a tomb? Erik isn’t real or alive…or is he? Is this a stage prop? Upon opening it, there’s no corpse or human remains! A single black rose is all that lay in the Opera Ghost’s grave!

The foolish mortals can hear the Phantom’s maniacal laughter as they make a dismaying observation: This chamber has no windows and no doors…Which offers them this chilling challenge: To find a way out! Of course, there’s always his way…

#phantom of the opera x reader #erik x reader #phantom of the opera #mystery legends phantom of the opera #leroux phantom #phantom manor #phantom manor AU #gothic horror #gothic horror AU #ghost AU #random fic idea #random prompt #fic ideas #pls tag me if you’re inspired by this #I’d love to read it

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apoptoses · 8 months ago

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✅ in your humble opinion, what's something anne rice got absolutely right?

I think that more than anything, she really nailed the vibe of every location she used in her works. Her gift for making the reader feel as if they're actually in old New Orleans, or the catacombs beneath the theater in Paris was insane.

And she had a great ability to develop her character's behavior and manner of speaking to coincide with wherever they were in history/the world: Lestat as a mortal in Paris is not exactly like Lestat in New Orleans who is not exactly like Lestat in California before his concert. He morphs with locations and time just as Armand changes from Venice to Paris to Miami. Her characters changed over time like real people, they responded to the places they were in, and I think that's what makes them so real.

So yeah she was just incredibly good at capturing the essence of a place and making it feel like the reader and the characters were really there!! A powerhouse of a writer tbh when she was on top of her game she was on it.

#apoptoses answers

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andessence · 22 days ago

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@hehymns | starter call (accepting.)

The dark days are behind them. No more does Armand consign himself to crypts and catacombs. No more does he wield the authority of Satan as a weapon to beat back the questions and curiosities of his reformed coven about the mortal world. And yet he too often finds himself to still be a relic of a bygone era, not only out of touch with the modern Paris, but also with the centuries that came before, when he lived in her very heart, but saw nothing of her nature. A concerted effort to refamiliarize himself with that other, sunlit society has been necessary, at least so much as to glean from it the cultural touchstones that will draw in an audience to the young Théâtre des Vampires.

And when his own efforts falter or frustrate him, there is Nicolas, one of the youngest of their ranks, still 'of the times' in a vital way... and too broken for Armand to fear revealing his inadequacy to. What harm can the poor, mad thing do to him? Who among his company would take seriously a criticism of Armand's knowledge from these lips? Nicolas's condition has improved somewhat over a brief few years, but he simply has not accepted the Dark Gift with grace. He likely never will. Armand anticipates each moment another crisis in the flames — one not to be survived.

"Ah, Nicolas, come, if you would. Do you fancy a hunt?" Pretense, obviously, but he uses it to draw Nicolas far from the coven, to weave him through the streets as if on a mission, halting only and at last before the newest, most uncertain source of mortal turmoil - the captured Bastille. Its mass imposes deep, seemingly immovable shadows upon the nighttime street, and yet there is every day talk of its imminent destruction. His eyes soak up the scene at a glance and then turn to Nicolas, eager to see what reaction the upheaval provokes in a child of this age. "A passing malaise, do you think, or something more? Can it mean anything to our theatre?"

#okay i'm SO sorry it took so long to get you this starter!! i hope this works for you <3 happy to pivot if you want something else #hehymns #(armand) v; théâtre des vampires #||x you have no idea how crucial the timing and location are [ queue ]

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mysteriis-moon666 · 5 months ago

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MALEDICTIONS N°2

L’image du hardos c’est celle d’un être inadapté, un ringard, sectaire, crasseux, satanique, véhiculant des vestiges voués à disparaître, enfin ça c’était avant. Maintenant le metal est ‘’tendance’’, mis en lumière avec « Diabolus in Musica » à la Philharmonie de Paris en racontant son mythe en musiques et en images jusqu’au 29 septembre 2024 en partenariat avec France Inter (hein ????), et l’info est relayé partout par n’importe quel mag happy-friend. Bientôt Arte TV fera gagner des calendriers de l’Avent Motley-crüe de 2021 avec des MonChéri à la liqueur Manowar, et France Inter des porte-clefs coca cola fabriqués en chine populaire au soirée metal de Live Nation.

De plus tu trouveras sur le net pléthore de youtubeurs qui relaient ce qu’ils ont lu ailleurs pour t’expliquer tel groupe, tel genre…Bref et au fin fond de la caverne tu auras le fanzineux. Tiens, on l’avait oublié celui-là, 80% au bas mot, 120 % pour les nouvelles générations (le fanzine est en papier).

Le hardos est fidèle à sa passion. Si les éditions Atlas sortaient une collection des plus grands groupes de metal en maquette d’allumettes chez votre marchand de journaux (à seulement 1,99 €), vous pouvez être certain que les fadas des métaux lourds ne pourraient plus s’arrêter sans avoir la collec complète.

Ok, vous avez déjà entendu mille fois ‘’Le metal est un style qui ne se renouvelle pas, les concerts sont grisonnants’’, ok, nous demandons l’exil et nous prions pour vos âmes, mais surtout foutez nous la paix, cela fait des décennies que nous vivons à côté de vous, comme des vampires, sortons la nuit de nos cimetières pour fleurir les palais de l’occultisme sonique avec tapage. Je ne peux pas changer le monde, mais je ne veux pas que le monde me change. Les groupes, disques, qui comptent sont gravés là où le temps ne détruit rien. Ils sont écrits avec le souffle et le sang. Même oubliés, ils restent cachés quelque part, et ils remonteront à la surface en apportant une partie pour toujours de nous. Alors ne continuez pas à arroser une fleur fanée. Ne laissez pas les disques opportunistes vous crucifier, et le vide toxique enraciner chaque territoire de vos émotions.

Malédictions est un fanzine. Fait par des fans pour des fans.

Réalisé par Camille qui auparavant avait concocté le fanzine Metal Witchcraft, il est accompagné par Léa et Quentin, ce trio façonné dans la forgerie de Vulcain au pays de dôme propage la sainte parole. Vous trouverez dans ce second numéro les interviews de All Borders Kill (Punk Hardcore/Thrash Metal, France), Anthems Of Steel (Festival pour Mäniacs only), Disfuneral (Death Metal, France), Electric Shock (Hard/Heavy, France), EXHAUSTER - Thrash Metal (Thrash Metal, France), NunSlaughter (Death Metal Legend, USA), Profanatica (Black Metal Legend, USA), TRESPASSER (Un-true, un-pure, un-orthodox Black Metal, Suède), VII (Horrorcore/Rap Hardcore) et Wempusa (Doomgaze, France). Avec une centaine de chroniques de disques, de zines et de livres, c’est dense, copieux, généreux, c’est le fanzine parfait pour découvrir ce qui se perpétue dans les grottes, caveaux, bas-fonds et sépultures, levant le glaive au firmament avec la hardiesse de Ronnie James Dio (dernier chasseur de dragon), Malédictions mérite le détour.

Limité à 200 copies, format A4, 96 pages. Pour le commander, envoie un mail à cette adresse : [email protected]

Il doit rester (peut-être) un fond du premier numéro de MALEDICTIONS (tiré à 250 exemplaires), 108 pages de blasphèmes et de musique extrême, avec les interviews sans langue de bois avec Tom G. Warrior (Celtic Frost, Triptykon), Catacomb, Troubadour le fanzine qui bourre (ou plutôt bourrait, RIP), Manzer, Tentation, Herzel, Lord Gallery, Savagery, Lassolas, S.M. Lozen et Preghiera. Sont également au menu des festivités des biographies de Catacomb et Tentation ainsi que plus de 80 chroniques de musique, de livres et de zines. Il y a aussi des badges à l’effigie du fanzine, à prix libre.

youtube

#Youtube #Malédictions Fanzine #interview

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porhomme21 · 8 months ago

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#sports cars #fashion #entertainment #google #style #usa

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hematomes · 2 years ago

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As we enter Fontaine if we don't get catacombs that serve as an underground network for the black market and information system I'm gonna be very disappointed cus I learnt Catacombs are solely French by my french teachers. If they somehow dont use Catacombs here I would be sad

WELL there's a chance they'll reference paris' catacombs bc that's where ppl sometimes hold concerts and shit, and before it was stuff like balls and... masquerades. maybe that's where we'll meet lyney and lynette ////

otherwise i think it could be an interesting DLC!! underground like the chasm, with yet another lost nation <3

#— answered #— nonnie

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 4 years ago

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I just woke up to the thought of myagi fang on a cliche highschool trip to Rome or Paris or smthn. Them all bring touristy and goofing around or eli and Demetri being gross or even better a picturesque karate sequence over the landmarks

Well obviously now I HAVE to make a list of headcanons about a Paris trip, it’s the LAW

~Eli insists on taking photos where it looks like he’s doing karate moves on famous landmarks. He punches the Eiffel tower. He roundhouse kicks the Champs Elysee arch. Demetri thinks this is utterly ridiculous, but goes along with it.

~Demetri’s style is more to just pose super dramatically in front of famous landmarks in the hammiest possible manner. Eli, never without his fundamental need to be incredibly Extra at all times, is often talked into joining in.

~Demetri sets out on a quest to find the perfect croissant. He makes an extensive list of the strengths and weaknesses, at least a page long, of each one he consumes. His goal is to analyze every croissant he consumes in order to objectively determine the best one in Paris. Everyone else in Miyagi Fang finds this incredibly obnoxious and begs for Demetri to stop. Demetri does not stop.

~Sam insists Aisha and Moon come along so she isn’t the only girl. They become the group fashionistas of sorts, and insist on hitting every cute boutique they pass for a shopping spree. They also generally have a blast buying each other clothes and surprising each other with them.

~Sam also buys Demetri a few scarves, because if he’s going to be her Gay Best Friend, goddamn it, he needs to start dressing like it. Demetri acts all surly at first--because he has a very solidly-defined wardrobes and there’s just no place for fancy scarves with his graphic tees--but eventually he comes to fawn over them and starts wearing them everywhere, no matter how garish they look with the rest of his outfits.

~Furthermore, he loves to wrap his scarves around Eli so they walk around sharing a scarf. Eli grumbles about it, saying it looks dumb, but secretly he doesn’t mind being kept close to Demetri at all times. Demetri’s favorite scarf to share is a really soft, silky dark purple one that he vehemently insists is “classy.”

~At one point, everyone goes to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Demetri takes like 60 selfies of him and Eli with the city sprawling away in the background, wrapped up in their purple scarf with the wind blowing both their hair all over the place. When they go off to different colleges the following year, these photos are the first ones the boys look at when they miss each other.

~The Miyagi Fang gang goes on a riverboat tour on the Seine at some point. Eli loooooves the adrenaline rush of leaning really far over the boat railing and feeling the wind whipping past his face. This regularly scares the crap out of Demetri and he’s constantly hauling Eli back over the railing, insisting that “drowning in a river or being run over by a boat really would not be a very badass way to go out.”

~They go to Versailles at some point, and in the gift shop, Demetri grabs a cheap plastic souvenir tiara and places it on Eli’s head. Eli just kinda cocks an eyebrow at him and is like “...why?” and Demetri gets this big shit-eating grin on his face and says “Because you’re a drama queen.” Eli just starts spluttering angrily before finally getting out “I’M NOT A DRAMA QUEEN YOU’RE A DRAMA QUEEN” and Demetri gets an incredibly smug look on his face before countering “Well, I remember one of us beat up the other over a 1-star Yelp review, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me.” Eli continues to splutter, but can’t find a good response to that one. Demetri ends up actually buying the crown for Eli. Eli would never admit it to a single living soul, but he keeps and cherishes it forever, despite it being purchased solely to make fun of him.

~Of course Johnny insists they visit the Catacombs, because “I hear there’s a bunch of skeletons and human remains and shit down there. Shit sounds badass.” There are in fact a number of skulls, and Eli is awed, gushing about how “cool” and “hardcore” this place is. The perfect setting for a hard rock concert, he insists. Demetri will not stop roasting Eli for being such an edgelord.

~Eli buys them some comic books written in French at a dingy little street stall in some backalley. Neither of them have any intention whatsoever of learning French, of course--they figure it’ll be way more entertaining to try and figure out what the fuck is going on whilst knowing absolutely no French whatsoever.

~The only French Demetri knows is “I love you.” He learns what it is so he can say it frequently to Eli and purposely butcher the pronunciation in a different manner every damn time, solely because he knows this will annoy the crap out of Eli. “JAY TY-MEE, ELI! JEE TIMMY!” “I am GOING to kill you Demetri, I SWEAR TO GOD.”

~At one of the many gift shops they visit, Demetri buys Eli a sword. Probably not like...a real sword, because those are expensive af I imagine, but like a replica or something. Eli is absolutely JAZZED and runs around yelling “HELL YEAH!” and swinging the damn thing all over the place. Miguel just turns and whispers worriedly to Demetri “Are you sure we can trust him with that thing?” and Demetri just waves a hand dismissively like “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 4 years ago

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I've seen a lot of stuff about the inside of Panthera's mind, and wanted to add my own take on it. I rambled way too long with this so i added a cut so people don't have to scroll for a while

When the other heroes first go into Panthera's mind, they land on a big version of one of those joke 'Un-Welcome' mats. it's kind of a 'world hub' of her mind.

There are distinct sections that divide her memories into categories. Some memories fall into multiple categories, and have multiple doors connected to the themed areas. There's a boat that houses family memories, a replica of Paris for Panthera's superhero adventures, a flower garden for memories with Rose, a hallway with school memories, a concert hall for her music and Kitty Section, and a dirt road you'd see in a fantasy adventure that has her experiences with newer friends.

Most of the memories they see are relatively happy, with less than half of them having negative emotions. But as they go further, the team notices a lot of things on the floors of these zones. Fake grass patches, ugly rugs, discolored tiles, too-big traffic cones, etc. Underneath these are closed manholes, bolted down with metal plates.

When they make their way back to the beginning, they see the Un-Welcome mat, and it all clicks. The squad rips it off the ground, revealing a massive manhole that isn't bolted down.

This hidden area is a replica of the Parisian Catacombs. The memory rooms are holes broken into the walls, and there are no doors to hide the scenes that play out.

The first things they see here are moments with self-deprecating trains of thought and anxiety spirals. Deeper in are Panthera's panic attacks, and further beyond are the times she's sacrificed herself for Ladybug.

At the very end, there's a massive vault. When they open it up... what they see isn't pretty.

After the team sees this dead-end memory, the massive vault that holds it fills with water, flooding the catacombs and pushing everyone back up to the enterance. The water flow stops before it can spill out onto the surface, refusing to taint the happier side of Panthera's mind.

———

OH DAMN.

#Panthera Noire au #submission

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atmilliways · 4 years ago

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Dethentine’s Day 1

February 8th - A Romantic Getaway

Today I give you what seems to be the first Lavona/Trindle fic posted to Ao3. It, uh, gets kind of dark towards the end, mostly for star-crossed lovers reasons. You’re welcome and/or I’m sorry, whichever applies.

What Matters

The late evening air of Paris is clear and crisp as the two women exit the small museum shop that marks the end of the Catacombs tour, arm in arm.

“Well, Liebling?” the taller of the two asks in German as they cross the street. “Did you like it?”

“It was fantastic.” Her companion, who has a definite American accent, is absolutely beaming beneath her black, touristy beret. The studs in her nose and bottom lip glint silver in the streetlight. “I’ve never seen so many femurs and crania in one place before. Thousands of human skulls and bones. Skeletal remains of more than six million people. You could just . . . feel the dead, all around you.” She sighed. “This entire trip has just been perfect, Lavona. I’m so happy you were able to take the time off.”

“Anything for you, Trin,” she replies with an indulgent smile. “I wanted to make this trip special for you considering the sacrifice you’re about to make for the cause.”

“You’re doing an amazing job.” Trindle beams at the nickname, as she always does. “Where to next?”

“Cantada II,” Lavona confirms. “It’s a heavy metal absinthe bar in the 11th arrondissement.”

“Ooh. So they’ll be playing. . . ?”

“Almost definitely.”

Lavona watches her eyes light up at the prospect of drinking to Dethklok music, and knows deeper than bone that Trindle was the right choice. The young woman has the right history, the kind that the band’s manager won’t think twice about when he orders the inevitable background search: goth since middle school, tattooed and splashed all over social media photos of copious concerts from high school onwards, putting herself through life as a cosmetologist and esthetician. She is, by all accounts, a member of one of Dethklok’s many key demographics.

Which is exactly why Succuboso Explosion had reached out to her in the first place. She’s perfect. So perfect, in fact, that Lavona sometimes finds herself wavering in her single-minded pursuit of Nathan Explosion’s seed. . . .

Only sometimes. But it’s in moments like right now, drinking in the way Trindle’s normally pale face flushes with whole-hearted excitement. Poor girl has never been out of the United States before in her life. There’s a whole world to explore, and she has an enthusiasm for taking it all in that Lavona had lost a long time ago. If things were different, her first instinct might be to protect that spark, to nurture and tend to it until maybe, just maybe, some of it might rub off on and infect her too.

But they had both agreed. The mission is what matters. Once they all truly become vessels that hold the future, maybe then there will be time, as pregnancy allows, but for now Lavona knows it’s best to remain as dispassionate as possible.

So she hails them a cab, and they go to a moodily lit bar with blood red walls and unsettling artistic renderings of monsters and zombies on the walls. Trindle says she recognized it from some Anthony Bourdain thing, whoever that was—Lavona doesn’t own a television, so all she gleans from the comment was that the man had died since filming it, which seemed to heighten the appeal somehow. Excited to try everything, Trindle insists on working her way systematically through the drinks menu. It’s a good night.

They returned to the hotel late, both slightly unsteady on their feet despite Lavona’s attempts to keep her head. Trindle had insisted that she take at least a sip of each with her, and Lavona hadn’t had it in her to say no.

It’s far from a fancy suite, the group’s finances being mostly directed in other directions. Just a standard room with two double beds. Until tonight Lavona has kept to her own side of the room, but when Trindle tangles their fingers together and hesitantly tugs her to cross the invisible line with a hopeful smile . . . Lavona follows the pull.

Later, after Trindle had fallen asleep on her side, Lavona sits up in bed and watches the gentle tide of her bosom. The sheets are thin enough that she can make out the heavy black shapes of her tattoos. A stray lock of hair drapes across her cheek, fluttering with every exhale; gently, so as not to wake her, Lavona brushes it back behind her shoulder.

How odd to think that soon this view will be Nathan’s. She should be jealous of Trindle. She is—and isn’t. She’s jealous of them both, with a fierce ache in her heart and between her legs, but she also feels a peacefulness that she’s never known before. Dispassionate as possible. . . . Well, apparently that had always been relative. Maybe if the silly girl hadn’t mainlined lessons on both Duolingo and Babbel for several months and then surprised her with rough but promising conversational German, Lavona might have stood a chance.

If she could, she would suspend this final moment of their romantic getaway in amber and wear it like a jewel.

But Trindle had agreed.

Lavona leans across to the nightstand between the two beds and retrieves a slim black case from the top drawer. Unzipping it reveals a pre-filled syringe, which gleams in the moonlight as she uncaps and flicks it to make sure there are no air bubbles. One quick injection and Trindle will stay asleep long enough for the next step.

When it’s done, Lavona leans down and kisses Trindle’s forehead, kisses her closed eyelids, kisses her slack lips. “I’m sorry, Liebling,” she whispers. “Godspeed. The sooner the mission is complete, the sooner we can reunite. I . . . I hope you can forgive me.”

Then she dresses and goes to the door that connects their room to the one next door, knocks, waits to hear a reply knock, and opens it. The other four members of Succubosso Explosion file in, dressed in surgical scrubs, pushing a narrow stainless-steel table, and carrying trays of sterilized equipment.

They had outvoted her on this, arguing that the mission was of the utmost importance. Ever since their initial failure with the Loin Extractor, knowing that an outsider would have to be recruited to infiltrate Mordhaus, most of the group’s budget has gone towards the development of behavior modification technology to ensure success even without the rigorous training they’ve all undergone for years. Trindle is merely a tool; this implant will endow her with a single-minded desire to collect Nathan’s spend as often and as diligently as possible, as well as adding a certain amount of “bimbo-ification” that will put her even further beyond suspicion than her otherwise innocuous history already does.

It hasn’t been tested on human subjects, there simply wasn’t time. They have one slim window of opportunity, a rare and coveted backstage pass which Trindle will use to approach and ensnare her target.

All Lavona can do now is hope that the plan will go off without a fucking hitch.

#dethentines 2021 #metalocalypse fanfic #lavona succuboso #trindle (mtl)#lavona/trindle #my fanfiction #giving the person you're trying not to get too attached to One Great Day before they go off on a questionable mission

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karmaholmes221 · 3 years ago

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Vicomte de Phantom II

Pier 69

Paris, 1895- A mysterious fire consumed the Opera Populaire. A mob rampaged through the theatre's twisted catacombs baying for the masked man they held responsible. Only his mask was ever found...

I flicked a strand of wet hair out of my face and began messing with the sleeves of my dress. It was busy down at the piers for this time during the day as relatives stood and waited for the disembarking passengers to make their way through the custom house. I stumbled slightly as I was jarred by a young man, who rushed past me to join a rather large crowd just outside the gates. Unable to extinguish my curiosity, I moved closer to see what all the commotion was about, slipping into the crowd of reporters, photographers, well-wishers, and gawkers without notice. The man, who was clearly a latecomer, turned to the man beside him.

“Has the Persephone docked yet?” he panted.

The man nodded. ”Yeah, the passengers are going through customs now.”

”Here they come!” A young woman whispered loudly to the two men as the first of the passengers made their way through the gate.

”It’s Mrs Astor!” one of the reporters called as a portly lady wearing an enormous plumed hat stepped through the gates, being escorted by a dapper gentleman.

”Hey, Mrs Astor! Over here!” the photographer called. Mrs Astor turned and several flashbulbs went off.

”How was your trip?” one reporter asked.

”Is that the latest Paris style?” another called.

Mrs. Astor just smiled and blew them a kiss before turning away and allowing herself to be escorted to her waiting carriage.

”Look, there’s Colonel Vanderbilt!” A young man near the front of the crowd called.

”Hey, Colonel, enjoyed those French pastries, did you?” the reporter asked.

Vanderbilt smiled broadly. “There’s nothing there we don’t have bigger and better over here, I assure you.”

”Thanks Colonel!” the photographer said loudly, trying to be heard over the chattering crowd. The Colonel smiled indulgently, patting his ample waistline lightly as the photographers flashbulbs went off before moving off to hail a carriage.

”Hey, there she is!” Someone yelled and all heads turn to the gates, I glanced over, only slightly curious as to the reason to who this mystery person was that they were all standing here waiting for and felt my breath catch in my throat at what I saw.

There, framed in the gateway, clutching the hand of a young boy, stood Christine Daae’. She was nearly obscured by veils and a cloche hat but she was gorgeous, iconic, every inch a star. There was a moment of awed silence as I tried to reign in my pounding heart and push the dread that was seeping through me away. ‘Why, after all these years, why did she have to show her face here, in this town? If Erik finds out she’s here…’ I refused to complete the thought, I didn’t want to think about how far Erik would go to regain his hold on the former prima donna. I pushed the thoughts away as the crowd burst into pandemonium as flashbulbs exploded and the reporters and photographers began shouting, all vying for Christine’s attention.

Christine remained silent, pulling the boy at her side closer to her and wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders as a familiar voice rose above the shouts of the crowd. “Her name is Madame de Chagny! Stand aside! Stand aside, please!” As Raoul appeared through the gate, I couldn’t stop myself I gasped. The woman just ahead of me glanced back but I could hardly find it in me to care. It was Raoul, older and slightly more weathered looking than I remembered, but still the same man that I had been married to all those years ago, still dapper and handsome and, in this moment, brusque irate. “No pictures, do you hear? No pictures of my wife, no pictures of the boy!”

”Hey Christine, why Coney Island?” one reporter called.

”Your first concert in years, why ain’t you singing at the Met?” A reporter in front of me, a young man with ink stains on his shirt, called out and Raoul looked towards him, a dignified look on his face.

“The Vicomtesse has been engaged by the well-known impresario –”

”Well-known?!”

No one’s ever seen the guy” the same reporter cut him off, before launching another into another question. ”How’d he lure the great Christine Daaé over here, anyways?”

”It’s the money, right? All that American moolah!” The photographer said mockingly.

”Hey Christine, whatcha gonna sing, “Yankee Doodle Moolah”?”A man in the crowd called and the people around him sniggered.

Raoul turned towards where the man’s voice had come from. “My wife is an artist, sir - - !” Raoul began heatedly.

”Yeah, and her art is paying off your gambling debts, is what they’re saying in France.” The photographer scoffed. I was hit with a moment of surprise at the news, I had heard of there financial burden because of some poor investments but I hadn’t realized how badly off they must be if Christine was coming out of retirement to pay their debts off.

”Is it true you left your entire fortune on a roulette table in Monte Carlo?” the reporter asked and Raoul’s eyes blazed angrily. “Why, you insolent jackal! How dare you -” Raoul said taking several steps toward the reporter.

“Father-” The boy began in a quiet voice that was unlike either of his parents.

“Not now, Gustave!” Raoul snapped as reporters turned their questions on the boy.

”Hey kid, how does it feel to have a famous mother?”

”This is your first time in America?”

”What do you plan to do here at Coney?”

The child glanced around shyly, clearly not sure how to handle the attention. ”I… want to learn how to swim.” He said quietly. There were hoots and laughs from the crowd and I couldn’t help but feel a small amount of sympathy for the boy shrinking back against his mother.

”I said, leave the child alone!” Raoul snapped, glancing around anxiously. “For God’s sake, didn’t this Mr Y send someone to receive us?”

I felt another stab of shock at the sound of Erik’s new name here. It was the name he had been using in the public eye at least, to me he was still Erik. The shock gave way to anger as I realized that he had been in contact with Christine and Raoul, however vaguely, while I had been forced to sever all ties with everyone in Paris because of his actions. I was brought out of my thoughts as the boy suddenly became very animated, he stepped forward and pointed at something across courtyard. “Mother, look..?Right over there… Across the square.. What is it?”

Everyone turned and I wasn’t surprised to see the sight of Erik’s carriage, fancifully designed with horses that were entirely mechanical and a driver whose face was completely obscured. The crowd around me began to buzz as words of astonishment, wonder, and even fear were thrown back and forth. “What on earth could it be?”

“I’ve never seen such a thing before in my life!”

“Damn strange, that’s what it is!”

“The most peculiar conveyance!”

Suddenly the door of the carriage opened and three familiar figures extricated themselves from the vehicle. I ground my teeth as the three figures bowed in unison to the crowd before turning to approach Christine and her family with their usual bizarre yet beautiful motions. “Are you ready to begin? Are you ready to get on? You’re about to start out on the journey of your lives.” Squelch said before reaching behind the child’s ear and pulling out a colored handkerchief.

” Is this some kind of joke?” Raoul demanded, his voice filled to the brim with bewildered outrage.

One of the onlookers closest to Raoul scoffed. “No, it’s a publicity stunt for that freak show on Coney!”

”It’s a front page feature, is what it is! You getting this, Smitty?” One of the reporters asked his photographer as he rushed to write in a small, leather book and I couldn’t help but smile at the idea of such good publicity for free.

There was yet another flash from the photographer’s camera.“You betcha!” he replied, taking yet another picture.

Gangle stepped forward. “If you’re ready, then get in. Once you’re in, then we’ll get gone. And who knows, once it goes, Where you’ll be when it arrives?” Gangle spoke and, in one fluid motion, he had removed Raoul’s top hat and suddenly made it vanish into thin air.

“This is outrageous!” Raoul snapped as the crowd began to murmur again, this time in approval.

“It’s amazing!”

”Brilliant!”

”I’m telling ya, that Mr Y is an absolute genius!”

Gangle and Squelch quickly moved to flank the family and walked them towards the carriage as the bird-like Fleck beckoned them forward. “It’s a fun house where the mirrors all reflect what’s real.” Fleck said mysteriously.

“And reality’s as twisted as the mirrors reveal.” Fleck and Gangle whispered.

Squelch added his voice to the mix. “And the fun is finding out what the mirrors show…” By now the whole group had reached the carriage and Christine was helped into it as Raoul continued to protest.

“This is unacceptable, do you hear me? I will be taking this up with your employer! Whoever he is!” Raoul snapped as he was finally coaxed into the carriage, leaving only the boy, Gustave, outside it.

Gustave gazed at the carriage and then at the crowd, his face and voice excited as he spoke.”Everything and everyone, it’s all just how I dreamed…All the freaks, and all the fun, exactly how I dreamed…And Phantasma still awaits…Wonder what’s behind its gates…” The boy climbed into the carriage and it silently rolled off as the onlookers watched, speechless. As the carriage disappeared from view I quickly turned on my heel and began to push my way through the crowd, catching snatches of conversation. ”That was something’, wasn’t it?” A boy who couldn’t be older than sixteen told the woman who was hanging on his arm.

”I was hoping she’d sing. Caruso sang half of Pagliacco for us when he got off the boat.” A woman complained to her friend.

“I bet she ain’t got it no more, not like the old days. Sure, she’s pitch perfect… But empty inside, like the flame went out or something’.” One of the reporters said simply, digging in his coat for a match.

I slipped passed a woman who looked to be my age as she suddenly began pointing to the arrival gates, calling out to the crowd. ”Look! It’s the Rockefellers!”

I finally made it through the last few people and slipped down the busy street, a plan forming in my head. I veered off the main street and into a dismal back alley. I would take a shortcut back to Coney Island and Phantasma, and I would find out exactly what was going on.

#part 5 #romance #phantom #opera #love never dies #erik destler #raoul #fanfiction #vicomte de phantom II

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phanfictioncatalogue · 5 years ago

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3k-5k Words Fics (4) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: February 21st, 2023

part one, part two, part three, part five

Appreciation - placingglaciers

Summary: In which Dan is the town’s successful, wealthy, irritable, but lonely, mortician and Phil is his gardener who has to deal with his bad day from work the best way he can.

between the bars (ao3) - commonemergency

Summary: Dan is a lonely twenty-something year old not really looking for a connection until he finds one, and it's not in the way he expected, in fact he can't really even remember it.

Or the one where Dan and Phil meet on Tinder.

But Tonight, We're Something (ao3) - truerequitedlove

Summary: In which Dan and Phil are nothing. If anything, they can’t stand each other. But they’re nothing. Even if every time they see each other, they end up having sex.

Call Me D-4-N (ao3) - Do_it_with_the_Howell_Lesters

Summary: Phil gets abducted by alien!dan who learns about humanity and emotions from him.

Can You feel The Love Tonight? - nebulous-frog

Summary: Phil sings with the door open while he’s folding laundry and Dan overhears. Phil's completely tone deaf and doesn’t know any of the lyrics, but that won’t stop him, dammit, no matter how many times people ask him to seriously just stop. Dan thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

Dancing of the Butterflies (ao3) - flymetomanchester (orphan_account)

Summary: Every year when death comes to life and the moon hides as the days linger, the royal family holds a celebration. Traveling the long journey from England to Paris every year in order to celebrate the downfall of the French Empire known as Valentine’s. Every year the celebration differs as no theme repeats and this year it’s a Masquerade Ball. The prince, Phil, is to meet a young princess who will rule over the British Empire with him one day. Things go astray when the brown eyes of a French peasant meet the prince’s and the prince chases him through the forbidden catacombs of Paris to unveil his identity.

Delivery (ao3) - drxpdead

Summary: In which Phil is maybe kind of obsessed with the leather jacket wearing pizza delivery boy, because he just had to ask for the cutest one.

Enough - youreyesholdgalaxies

Summary: Phil has been being distant and Dan feels like their friendship is over, while Phil is trying to block out some thoughts that he doesn’t want to think about, the thoughts of Dan needing more.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Prime Minister (ao3) - yoongioss

Summary: Philip Lester was the youngest ever appointed Prime Minister.

Happy Phantoms (ao3) - vvelna

Summary: Dan's flat is haunted, so she contacts a team of ghost removal experts.

I Heard That - philipsenpai-fics

Summary: ~4.4k, extreme parent fluff and Phil being a teacher :3

Just Playing (ao3) - watergator

Summary: Dan and Phil decide to turn their date into a game.

Lydian (ao3) - sierraadeux

Summary: When Phil needs to accurately depict a jazz club in one of his films, it only makes sense to experience one in real life.

Pillow Talk - somelikeitpink

Summary: Snippets of their timeline shared in their bedroom.

Plus One (ao3) - TortiTabby

Summary: Dan is Phil's plus one at his University Class Reunion.

Starstruck - paradisobound

Summary: Phil attends all of Dan Howell’s concerts. In fact, he makes it a rule to even record every one he goes to. You could say he was in love with Dan Howell and in fact, that wouldn’t be a lie because he’s actually Dan’s fiancé. Too bad Dan’s fans see him as the creepy guy at Dan’s concerts.

Thank God We're Home (ao3) - Shambelina

Summary: Dan and Phil return from touring and they have sex. That's it, that's the plot.

thicker than water (ao3) - phandomsub

Summary: Daniel isn’t handling his punishment well, and his mother doesn’t understand.

Today Is For Us (ao3) - CaibrynM

Summary: Dan and Phil take a day for themselves in between the tour ending, planning for their premiere in Brazil and the upcoming Christmas Holidays. Lots of Fluff and a little smut.

why did you steal my cotton candy heart? (ao3) - hedgehogtongues

Summary: He pulls out a fake bouquet of flowers from behind his back, three of them. Pink, blue and yellow. Sunflowers, they seemed to be, and Phil’s beam practically is one. He passes them to Dan, who is gushing completely, cheeks stained pink.

‘Phil, how did you even get these?’

Phil’s smile turns cocky, ‘My grandma was psychic, I think, so I’m like all magic and stuff. Hence the fact I’m a magician.’

or the one where dan's a moody carnival worker and phil's a popular magician.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #3k #3k masterlist #5k #5k masterlist

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ivwxy · 4 years ago

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FMP Brainstorm:

what am i interested in?

recycling

food waste, finishing all your food

turning off lights in rooms you won’t be using for a while

keeping good habits and saving energy and electricity

reusing, hoarding

closing windows, doors, drawers and handling other furniture in the house gently

interior design, home accessories

redesign iKEA? design iKEA promotional image for each continent to better suit it? increase appeal? make catalogues and infographics of the unique architectural and interior differences between countries and continents, tying in their differing cultures, traditions and origins of the people and culture, communities

organisation, colour-sorting

genuine human interaction, consideration and looking out for others

balance of each individual’s needs in a relationship

give and take ratio, balance within one’s life both personal and in general

putting in effort into maintaining a friendship, subsequent ratio? does it even exist? is there a formula to a successful long-lasting friendship?

give and receive: in life, what is the average output you receive back out of what you invested? do you receive more than you give, if so what affects that? which circumstances define and influence how far your effort goes and what or how much you get out of your investment?

self-driving cars are the future; advocate for self-driving cars

consume less meat to not only improve overall health but save the planet

how humanity has wiped out thousands of species without ever having even discovered them

the impact of humans on planet earth

the impact of humans to other species co-existing on our home planet

is intergalactic expansion of humanity a positive thing? will we only ruin more planets and damage them irreversibly?

old archaeology, lost civilisations and nomadic tribes; Mayan civilisation, the Ancient Huns, Atlantans, lost peoples, lost languages

how astronomers of the past became so advanced and knowledgeable about the sky without using any of the modern tools we have today

the Paris catacombs: how the hell people used to navigate them; current illegal activity in the catacombs and the fact that no one has mapped it fully, still unexplored. caves carved by ancient civilisations that preserve thousand year old art and stories

supernatural phenomenon such as the Bermuda Triangle and other areas on earth that emit strange energy

how the majority of the ocean is still unexplored; what’s the biggest sea creature? does the Kraken exist? what lies at the bottom of the ocean?

how is the jellyfish immortal and how on earth did all the various species on earth evolve from the same point and turn out so vastly different from one another? for real jellyfish and lobsters (and every invertebrate) could convincingly be from an entirely different solar system. yet here they are, on earth with us, sharing the same resources

is everything we experience a simulation?

superhumans? genetically modified gene pool, GATTACA

are we headed toward a dystopian future?

astral projection, the subconscious: what are we really? do we understand ourselves? are we really aware of ourselves?

BANANAS

Banana house? What would it look like? Banana land, banana production, banana uses, history, benefits, health effects

badminton, promotional visuals

dogs at shelters; how to boost appeal to the public on adopting a dog from a shelter? rescuing dogs and discouraging backdoor breeders

japanese culture: internet/cyber cafés, hikokomori, kodokushi, gigolo/host industry, rent-a-family business in japan, fake-family industry, escape/moving companies, mass overworking, impact of overtime, holographic virtual idol concerts, projected characters welcoming people home, marrying virtual characters, super sophisticated interior design and functionality for tiny homes and apartments, parents letting 4 year old kids travel alone to school taking public transport and navigating to and fro on entirely their own, maid cafés and the like, weird services and industries you’d only find in japan

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imagine-organization-xiii · 5 years ago

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If the Organization could go to any of these places, what would their favorite haunted location be?

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Xemnas - Corvin Castle, Hunedoara, Transylvania - Tourists are told that it was the place where Vlad the Impaler was held prisoner by John Hunyadi, Hungary’s military leader and regent during the King’s minority. The Castle is sometimes mentioned as a source of inspiration for Castle Dracula in Bram Stoker’s 1897 horror novel Dracula.

Xigbar - Winchester Mystery House, San Jose, California - After the death of her husband, rifle magnate William Winchester, Sarah Winchester commissioned this dizzying labyrinth of a house in order to keep safe from vengeful spirits killed by her husband’s guns. The home has four stories, 160 rooms, 10,000 window panes, and 47 stairways — some of which go to nowhere at all.

Xaldin - Tao Dan Park, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam - Over 24 acres of gardens make Tao Dan Park look like a paradise, but at night, locals have reported that the park takes on a different feel. Rumors say that the ghost of a young man who was killed in an attack still wanders the park, looking for his lost love.

Vexen - Poveglia Island, Venice, Italy - A short trip from Venice, the beautiful island of Poveglia has scars from being a quarantine zone for people suffering from the plague. In addition, the island was used in the early 20th century as an insane asylum.

Lexaeus - La Recoleta Cemetery, Buenos Aires, Argentina - thousands of statues, mausoleums, fairytale grottoes, and intricate tombstones, as well as the remains of Argentina’s most iconic figure—Eva Perón.

Zexion - Bhangarh Fort, India - Two hundred miles from Delhi, this abandoned fortress sticks out in the middle of the desert. Legend has it that a sorcerer cast a curse on the area after being rejected by a local princess.

Saix - The Myrtle’s Plantation, St. Francisville, Louisiana - historic home and former antebellum plantation built in 1796 by General David Bradford, it is touted as one of America’s most haunted homes. The house is reputedly built over an Indian burial ground, and the ghost of a young Native American woman has been reported.

Axel - Catacombs of Paris, France - After a prolonged bout of heavy rains flooded and unearthed the overcrowded Les Innocents cemetery in the spring of 1780, a wave of rotting corpses tumbled onto the property next door.

Demyx - The Queen Mary, Long Beach, California - a retired British ocean liner that sailed primarily on the North Atlantic Ocean from 1936 to 1967 for the Cunard Line that is now permanently docked in Long Beach. A horrific series of events involving more than 50 deaths makes it one of the most haunted ships in the world.

Luxord - The Tower of London, London, England - Many famous people have called the Tower of London their final resting place. The infamous fortress has been steeped in tragedy for over 900 years and home to many ghostly sightings of English royalty, including Anne Boleyn and Mary, Queen of Scots.

Marluxia - Hoia Baciu Forest, Cluj-Napoca, Romania - This forest is considered the most haunted in the world. Visitors often report intense feelings of anxiety and the feeling of being watched while traveling through the forest, and some of the most common sightings include ghosts, unexplained apparitions, faces appearing in photographs that were not visible with the naked eye, and even some UFOs.

Larxene - Château de Brissac, Brissac-Quincé, France - One of the tallest castles in all of France, the seven-story Château is known as the home of “The Green Lady,” aka the ghost of Charlotte of France, who was killed by her husband after he discovered her having an affair.

Roxas - Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, Weston, West Virginia - Built as a sanctuary for 250 patients afflicted with psychiatric illnesses, the asylum became so crowded that it held 2,600 people at its peak. No one knows all that happened under its roof, but apparitions, unexplained noises and strange shadows suggest that the spirits of those who lived there might have unfinished business.

Xion - Isla de las Munecas (Island of the Dolls), Mexico - While it might look more like a horror movie set, the chinampa (akin to an artificial island) used to be the residence of a now-deceased man named Julian Santa Barrera. After finding a dead girl’s body in a nearby canal, Barrera collected and displayed the toys in the hopes of warding off evil spirits.

#haunted places #organization xiii #organization xiii headcanons #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts headcanon #metamorphoragamuffin

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