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gremlinmodetweeker · 3 months ago
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Lights Go Out I Wake Up
König is my sweet little baby and I love him dearly. Enjoy some more Phantom of the Opera!König as he watches reader. He's a bit creepy, but he's also my little creepy baby. Also, this story has a very different interpretation of Carlotta. I thought it might be nice to have women supporting women this time. Or well, one woman being a support. Anna, who you have yet to meet, is not so nice at all.
Also, König learns he has competition! He's not too happy about that.
Anyways,
No Content Warnings
Wordcount: 2.4k
Art from This Post
Story below the cut
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Lights Go Out I Wake Up
You looked up in the balconies of the opera house expectantly. You tried to see if he was there. Maybe, if you were lucky, you might see a flap of his cape or a glimpse of the crimson ribbons of his mask. You desperately searched but, as always, it was to no avail.
You turned back to the stage where the primadonna was on center stage. She flicked her long blond tresses over her shoulder as she reached out to the audience, serenading them with her warbling soprano voice. You were drawn into the siren’s song, listening to each staccato note followed by a sweeping drop, each rise and fall of her tone as she sang out the tune to The Magic Flute. She attacked, she defended, she swooped and she swelled with the song as she traversed across the stage.
You smiled softly. You would never be like Carlotta, not in a thousand years. She was leagues above anyone in the house, hands down. Men traveled halfway across the world to bear witness to her voice and her visage. By the final notes of the song, the stage had been outlined with a row of roses, each bouquet from a different suitor fighting for her hand. Carlotta’s voice masterfully lulled each one of them into an enchanted hypnotic state. You followed her movements, trying your best to memorize each and every single flick of her fingers or swoop of her wine red dress as she sang out to the crowds. In that moment, Carlotta had placed the dagger in your hands and sang to you of rage, hatred, scorn. You, Pamina, watched as your mother told you her plans and urged you to slay the sorcerer. You watched her, her passion and beauty overwhelming as she came to a crescendo of the song, the make-or-break of the piece, the part that broke many a singer’s voice before.
Carlotta’s face was clear and relaxed as she hit the high notes, a beautiful crystal clear attack, receding briefly only to sharply hit it again and again before swaying onwards. One of the most brilliantly technical pieces of opera written for a soprano, and yet Carlotta seemed to be floating as she swept across the stage. She was above it all as she magically twisted the song to her delight.
As always, you were floored.
Carlotta was the greatest opera singer to ever come from the British Isles. At least, that was your opinion. The true beauty of Carlotta though was not her voice, nor was it her impeccable diamond-cut beauty. The beauty of Carlotta was her loving eye. She looked into the crowd and you could see her love for them in every smile she gave them. She was the queen of the stage and you would never dare to steal her title. As always, she looked at home here, presented for thousands to admire. She was the songbird of the Vienna State Opera, but this building was her cage.
When she had finished, she left the stage with tears in her eyes. You immediately took her in her arms and hushed her.
“I don’t want it to be over,” she sniffed as she held you tight.
“We’ll still keep in touch,” you assorted her.
“We both know it’s not the same,” she held you tightly, then released you back to the darkness of the workshop.
“We can message each other online,” you tried to explain but she wasn’t having it.
“I won’t be able to teach you anymore,” she bemoaned, “and then you won’t have anyone to help you with Anna.”
“I don’t need help with Anna,” you huffed.
Carlotta gave you a look, “Darling, we both know that’s a lie.”
You frowned, but followed her back to the dressing rooms. You flipped on a single light, keeping the room only barely lit enough to be able to see yourself in the mirror. Meanwhile, Carlotta sat at her vanity and flicked on the lights to get a better look at her own beauty. You watched her slowly wipe off the theater makeup while she sat at her vanity. She drummed her fingers on her cheeks in a light massage as she cooled down from the performance.
“So, do you know what you’ll do when you get home?” you leaned on the wall beside the vanity.
“Go to my parents probably,” Carlotta said as she put a dab of skin lotion on her fingers, “they’ve missed me. I’ve missed this little cafe in London that makes the best butter tarts. I hope they’re still open…”
“If they make the best butter tarts, why wouldn’t they be?” you asked.
“Everything goes too fast in London. One day you see a new hat shop, the next day it’s a tourist trap. There’s never a dry day in London!” Carlotta gave you a quick grin before dabbing at her temples again, “and I miss it. Vienna is nice, but it’s not home.”
“I thought you said Madrid was your home,” you pointed out.
“I was born in Madrid but I was raised in London,” Carlotta explained, “I moved there when I was eight. I only visited Spain when going to see my family, but other than that I was at home in London.”
“You know, you’re the only english woman I’ve ever heard be nostalgic about London,” you mused, “everybody else calls it a tar pit.”
“Oh it’s a tar pit alright,” Carlotta laughed, “but it’s my tar pit.”
You smiled as she went through the rest of her routine, unwinding her hair from its high knot and gently sloughing the great billowing red dress to change into a sleek pair of leggings and a turtleneck. She tossed her blond hair over her shoulders, casting you a sad look as she watched you take off your own clothes.
“I don’t have much longer to teach you,” she sighed.
“Well, it’s not like I need the teaching,” you pointed out, “I’m not your protege. I’m just a backup singer.”
“But you have the voice for a lead,” Carlotta countered, “you have it! Oh stop laughing, I’m serious! You can do it! Anna can do it, but she’s not a natural. You are.”
“I can’t handle that much pressure,” you sighed.
“But you can!” Carlotta sighed, “I just… I wish I could take you home with me. I could train you, give you a position at the RBO, we could do it! You could be a star!”
You shook your head sadly, “I’m not a star though. I’m lucky I even got my parts here.”
Carlotta clenched her lily-white fists in her lap. Her big wide eyes narrowed into feline slits. She looked angry, frustrated, but most of all, disappointed as she whispered, “You don’t know what you’re throwing away, do you?”
“I just know that it's best if I stick to my own lanes,” you grumbled.
Carlotta’s eyes never left you as she pursed her cherry red lips. In the dim light, she looked like a perfect angel, much like the ones painted above. She clenched her hands together, then let them relax with a sigh.
“You’ll keep up your lessons with me?” she asked hopefully.
You nodded and sat on a nearby stool, “Of course. I love your lessons.”
Carlotta smiled thinly, “I love them too.”
You watched as she slipped her necklace back over her swan neck. The bright glint of ruby reminded you of the stage curtains she wrapped herself in. You couldn’t imagine Carlotta as anything other than a singer. She was born for the stage, after all. Her entire childhood had been preparing her for the opera house, following in the footsteps of her mother and her mother before her.
How you wished you could follow in her footsteps.
“I’m gonna miss you, you know,” you sighed.
“I’m going to miss my best student,” Carlotta gave you a somber smile.
“We’ll keep in touch, right?”
Carlotta flashed her award-winning smile, “I have all your socials; I’m not letting you get away from me that easily!”
You chuckled as you walked around the room, searching for a small brown box.
Carlotta got up to peek over your shoulder to admire the empty wrappers tucked under your shawl.
“Well,” she crowed, “looks like tubby got his treat after all!”
“Tubby?” you scoffed, “the phantom isn’t fat!”
“Well that’s what everybody else says,” Carlotta pointed out,” and if he’s eating candies and chocolates all day long then he’s bound to be… Well, you know… Tubby.”
“I’m telling you,” you rolled your eyes, “when I saw him he was skinny as a rake.”
“As a rake?” Carlotta raised a perfect eyebrow, “not a tractor mower?”
“No he’s skinny! Honestly, I should probably put out something a bit more substantial for him…” you muttered.
“Oh you’re going to go and make the phantom home cooked meals now, are you?” Carlotta smirked.
You huffed as a blush crossed your cheeks, “Well, maybe it would be nice.”
Carlotta hummed as she watched you go dispose of the wrappers. When you sat back down, Carlotta gave you a sagely nod.
“Well, if you get this phantom on a diet maybe he won’t be so afraid to show himself,” Carlotta shrugged, “who knows, maybe you could introduce us. You do seem to be his favorite.”
“Me?” you twittered awkwardly, “I don’t know about that…”
“Oh I know!” Carlotta laughed, “whenever you’re on stage the reviews are all five stars! I think the reason you’re being cast so often is that the managers are noticing how well we do when you’re on stage!”
You huffed, “You’re saying it’s not my skills as a performer drawing in the reviews?”
Carlotta bristled, “No I’m not saying that!” she relaxed as she took your hand in hers, “I’m saying that the phantom has a liking for you. I love you, but one particularly good background singer isn’t going to turn the tides of an entire production. You don’t ensure that lights magically keep working. Hell, one lead girl, Hannah I think but you’d have to check with her, her mic went out halfway through a performance. Not a single person noticed until they were doing audio checks after the performance! It was incredible!”
“Wait, you’re talking about the time we did Faust, right?” you asked.
“Yes that’s the one!” Carlotta grinned, “I’m telling you that something’s special about you when you’re on stage. Everybody else says you’re a lucky charm, but I think that a certain someone is watching over you.”
You looked away to try and hide your flushed face, “Well, maybe. But if he really liked me, wouldn’t he maybe introduce himself? I only saw him once…”
“I’m telling you,” Carlotta said primly, “he’s afraid you’ll think he’s fat! Either that or he’s an actual ghost, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“I thought Henry was the ghost hunter around here?” you elbowed her lightly.
“What I said stays between us!” Carlotta warned you.
“Sure,” you smirked, “whatever you say.”
“You know, you should show more respect for your teacher,” Carlotta sniffed.
“I thought you were Anna’s teacher?” you pointed out.
Carlotta groaned and rubbed her temples irritably, “Well she’s no star either. If it weren’t part of my contract here I would’ve dropped her ages ago. She’s…”
“She’s something else,” you supplied.
“Oh she sure is…” Carlotta grumbled as she leaned her elbows onto the vanity, “at least I get one decent student out of this contract.”
You smiled, “I try to be.”
Carlotta turned to face you again with a ghost of a smile, “You are.”
You chatted easily in the dressing room, swapping stories of theater hijinks and arguing over the stature of the phantom of the opera late into the night. As you left for the night, you wondered once again if you had actually seen the phantom so long ago. Was it really true? Did you actually see the phantom, or was that just another performer? You suspected you’d never know for sure. You just hoped that you’d actually seen the whole event. You’d started to wonder if you were hallucinating the entire time.
You shut the door and locked it as you left.
Inside the room, König drifted from the corner of the dark room to your vanity. He heard voices coming from the alley behind him. Carefully, he used a nail he’d stolen earlier to tack a small letter to the corner of your mirror before ducking behind a panel in the wall. He noted that the gap was terribly small, far too small for a ‘tubby’ man to fit through. If that Carlotta wasn’t such a good teacher, well… König shook his head of the thoughts. As long as Carlotta was good to you, he’d be sure to watch over her too. His personal offense could wait another day if it meant ensuring you’d be safe in the opera house. He could be the ‘enormously fat rat’ as long as he could continue to watch your performances.
He hid behind the wall as the next group of singers swanned through the door. He listened to them titter about, laughing and giggling after such a successful showing. He heard a small gasp, and listened close.
“Look at that!” a girl said aloud.
“Look at what?” another asked.
“On the Songbird’s vanity! There’s a note!”
“Should we take a look?”
König bristled.
“No, no we shouldn’t. Let’s just ask her about it later.”
“Do you think it’s a lover?”
A scoff.
“I don’t think so. She’s not exactly a lovable sort.”
König rolled his eyes.
“Well, maybe. There’s that one guy who’s always asking about her.”
“Oh, that Makarov guy?”
That got König’s attention.
“Yeah, the russian guy. He’s always watching Songbird, you know? I’ve heard he only gets tickets when Songbird’ll be on stage.”
“You think he got backstage to pin a note for her?”
“Maybe, or he might’ve given it to a stagehand to do it for him. Either way, it’s so romantic!”
“Well, if it’s really Makarov behind that, Songbird’s got another thing coming for her.”
“You think so?”
“Oh I know so! Makarov… Well, he’s not a good man. Let’s just hope it’s anybody but Makarov.”
König glanced around in the dark. Makarov? Who was this Makarov? Why was he interested in his little Songbird?
He didn’t bother to hide his footsteps as he crawled away, too focussed on the new man to notice how the girls went silent as he left.
“Was that the phantom?” someone asked.
“Maybe. What’re your thoughts he wrote the letter?”
“A ghost writing a letter? Now I know you’re making things up.”
“Who knows, maybe he did. Can you imagine it? A phantom falling in love with our little Songbird?”
Someone hummed carefully, “Something tells me that’s not too far off the truth.”
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König dump
Alternate Universes
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gremlinmodetweeker · 2 months ago
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PLEASE
everyone will have to hear me out on this one BUT MOOSE KONIG…. MOOSE KONIG IN RUT
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melit0n · 4 months ago
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MASTERLIST.
Call of Duty:
⋆☀︎. Knock Knock (let me in) -> König x reader (oneshot)
⋆☀︎. Half-Starved -> Ghost x reader (oneshot)
Phantom of the Opera:
⋆☀︎. Miasma -> Phantom x reader (oneshot)
Sleep Token:
⋆☀︎. Oh warm, distant June -> Vessel & Sleep (oneshot)
OC works (not x reader):
⋆☀︎. Farewell to Providence -> Knowledge & Brutus
⋆☀︎. Rising Waters -> Knowledge & Brutus
⋆☀︎. The Fire doth Sing of Iron and Devotion -> Darya & Mel
OC works (x reader):
⋆☀︎. Delicate Is The Flesh -> Yan!demon OC x reader (fic):
Prologue
Chapter one: For Whom The Bell Tolls
Chapter two: Corvus and Krater
Chapter three: Belly of the Beast
Chapter four: Something Forgotten
Chapter five: Citrus and Cinnamon
Chapter six: Mumbling Conscious
Chapter seven: Heavy is The Head that Mourns The Past
Chapter eight: Be Not Afraid
Chapter nine: Eye for an Eye
Chapter ten: Blood will have Blood
⋆☀︎. Ao3 || Quotev || Wattpad (heavily inactive)
- DISCLAIMER: I do not give permission for any of my writing to be used for AI, both for the training of a stylised bot and for C.AI bots. If anybody sees any C.AI bots that use my writing as a basis, or follow the same storyline as my writing, please let me know.
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kepxler · 2 years ago
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Looks at Erik : the face of a skull but wears a mask to look more human
Looks over at Simon : the face of a man but wears a mask that looks like a skull
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ssspace-cadet · 5 months ago
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hihihi!! im pluto! this is an agere sideblog for when i feel little and silly! i go by she/her pronouns, i have ADHD, i love music, reading, and sleeping <3
you’re always welcome to send asks 💗
#pluto babbles — just random thoughts
#pluto writes — little imagines or scenarios
#pluto does things — things i make or do
#pluto answers — answering asks!
Note: this is a sideblog, so i apologize for not following back!
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I am a minor! Please don't be weird 😅
regressed age: ~4-6
favorite things: music, colors, books, animals, soft things, food, traveling, sleeping, rambling, etc.
fandoms: my little pony (friendship is magic), spider verse movies, cod (MW), POTO, disney movies, star vs the forces of evil, gravity falls, some animes, etc. (I appreciate recommendations!!!)
favorite colors: browns and reds, but every color is prettyyy!!
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Rules:
DNI-> any NSFW blogs, DDLG/MDLB variants, anti- agere/petre, homophobes, transphobes, anti-lgbtq+, racists, if you’re just mean :/
please be respectful and kind! this is a safe space :>
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bal-kote · 2 years ago
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Think of Me (POTO film version) really hits me witha full range of emotions.
It also fills me withe urge to write a fusion CoD x POTO AU fic. I don't even have a proper idea, just vague bits and feelings! Help.
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mrstabbymcshooty · 2 years ago
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Welcome
Callsign: Misty
Hello! Names Abigail, I hope you enjoy my blog. I’m a gal who just goes on this site for fun. Hope you enjoy my ramblings and ADHD hyperfixations.
Why mrstabbymcshooty?
All the guys I like have blood on there hands so it fits
I either go for moody homicidal brunettes or snarky homicidal blondes. Seems to be no in between.
Current Theme: Legolas & the Fellowship | Lord of the Rings
All my men with kill counts:
Jon Snow (GoT), Robb Stark (GoT), Daemon Targaryen (HotD), Harwin Strong (HotD), Cregan Stark (HotD), Gwayne Hightower (HotD) Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher) James Bucky Barnes (MCU), Loki (MCU), Warren Worthington III (XM) Jake Hangman Seresin (TGM), Pete Maverick Mitchell (TG) Jason Todd (DC), Conner Kent (DC), Bruce Wayne (DC), Roy Harper (DC) Erik (PotO) Jake Sully (Avatar) Kylo Ren (SW), Anakin Skywalker (SW), Han Solo (SW) Homelander (The Boys), Frenchie (The Boys) Simon Ghost Riley (CoD), John Price (CoD), Konig (CoD) Aragorn (LotR), Faramir & Boromir (LotR), Thranduil (TH), Kili (TH), Halbrand (RoP) Zuko (AtLA) Kaz Brekker (SoC), Matthias Helvar (SoC). Johnny Lawrence (TKK & CK), Robby Keene (CK), Hawk (CK) Tommy Shelby (PB), John Shelby (PB) Edward Cullen (TW), Charlie Swan (TW), Carlisle Cullen (TW), Paul LaHote (TW) Gale Hawthorne (THG), Finnick Odair (THG), Haymich Abernathy (THG) Sam Winchester (SPN), Castiel (SPN) Daryl Dixon (TWD), Rick Grimes (TWD), Shane Walsh (TWD) Aaron Hotchner (CM), Spencer Reid (CM) Captain Speirs (BoB), Major Winters (BoB) Edmund Pevansie (CoN), Prince Caspian (CoN), Peter Pevansie (CoN) Rafe Cameron (OB), JJ Maybank (OB)
Feel free to check out my other blogs:
Writing: Ao3 | Wattpad
DC: @mrbroodymcshooty
Anime: @mrblastymcsplodey
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gremlinmodetweeker · 4 months ago
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thank you for the beautiful, lovely and amazing wonder of phantom of the opera x konig <3!!!
i would love to know more, especially with phantom!konig winning and keeping sweet, songbird reader all to himself. he deserves! the love! the connection of their love song would be so sweet and pure!! <3
Okay so Phantom!König is going so hard in my head right now it's insane. I was making new AUs and the ask I got kept coming back so now it's probably gonna be a whole new story series, so keep your eyes peeled for that. I love this guy so much. He's such a dweeb.
So, he genuinely loves reader more than anyone else he's met. More than the women he met on tour in the military, more than the nurse who cared for him in the hospital, more than the girl who gave him flowers in school. He's obsessed with Songbird (name for reader) on a different level. He needs her. He can't be without her.
He is so horrified by his face, but I'm gonna be honest, for having a mild case of leprosy it's not that bad. I am down to draw some out on paper, but sadly I can't make a reference for him digitally because my school photo shop license got revoked ;-;. It hurts my soul.
But! Phantom!König is determined to win over Songbird. He will leave bouquets of roses by their door, he'll always give them bottles of water from the vending machine (gonna go into this later, but he had to learn what the heck a vending machine was just to use it), he'll go so far as to mess with the stage equipment to shine an extra light on Songbird even when they're in the back. He'll do anything to bring Songbird to center stage.
He's terrified when he sees your ex lover come back into your life. He's horrified to know that it's a man who's known as a monster in this city, and he wants so badly to steal you away to save you from him. He's going to do everything in his power to wrench you away from that vulture's talons. He won't have you stained by that filth.
He's not a good lover. He's strange, possessive, archaic. He's older than you by centuries, so his idea of a proper relationship is pretty outdated. But he also wants to be good. He knows he's a sick and twisted man, but he wants to be good for you. He wants to love you as you deserve to be loved. He doesn't want to steal you away into the darkness, he wants you on stage for everyone to hear your beautiful voice. He wants you to be loved by everyone nearly as much as he loves you. But nobody will ever love you as much as he does.
Nobody.
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sm0llbear · 2 years ago
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Thomas Hewitt/Bubba Sawyer
Erik, the phantom of the opera
Simon Ghost Riley
That's it...That's how I feel about them
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Uh so I made a character bingo if anyone wants to try it (:
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wikitopx · 5 years ago
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In spite of historic Hollywood restaurants, myriad entertainment venues and symbolic significance as the glitzy and glamorous entertainment capital of the world, Hollywood has seen some good and bad times as an area over the previous century.
But now the swath of Los Angeles that spans from Western Avenue on the east to North Fairfax on the west is experiencing a new culinary revival. The neighborhood's oldest hangouts are cherished with a new appreciation for nostalgia, while brand-new spots emulate the old with fresher, more innovative flavors. All the while, L.A.'s most celebrated chefs continue to keep the bar high with some of the nation's best restaurants right here in Hollywood.
Here are our top 10 best restaurants in Hollywood.
1.Providence
The only thing fussed over more than the guests at Providence is the fish. Chef Michael Cimarusti’s obsession with sourcing the highest quality, most sustainable seafood is obvious in every bite. He cherishes each piece, using gentle cooking techniques that coax the flesh, leaving melt-in-your mouth texture along with revelatory flavor combinations. Co-owner Donato Poto glides through the dining room overseeing the attentive service team. When the time comes, he gracefully prepares tableside Santa Barbara prawns. After many courses of Cimarusti’s creations, a serious-faced fromagier pushes a large, glass-enclosed cheese cart in front of you. Desserts are whimsical and live up to everything that came before.
2. Gwen
Brothers Luke and Curtis Stone’s glimmering luxury meat haven on Sunset Boulevard proves once again that chef Curtis does not rest on the laurels of his celeb status. The in-house butcher shop coexists with a lavish dining room where guests can see meat carcasses hanging in clear view. The slightly more appealing spectacle at Gwen is Curtis Stone himself. The tall Aussie can be seen preparing the five-course tasting menus in an open kitchen, often sporting barbecue goggles on his head. Several menu items are cooked over an open flame, giving the room a wonderfully smoky smell that adds extra anticipation to the restaurant's main draw: meat.
3. Musso and Frank
While many newer establishments attempt to emulate vintage Hollywood glamour, Musso and Frank actually embodies it. Opened on Hollywood Boulevard in 1919, the wood-paneled, leather booth–lined restaurant has been feeding movie stars, locals and tourists for almost a century. Fortunately not much has changed in that time. And though actually ordering throw-back menu items such as grilled lamb kidneys with bacon, calf’s liver steak or a smoked tongue sandwich would be only for the novelty of it, other classics like gooey Welsh rarebit, lobster thermidor and a variety of steaks and chops are safe bets. Nothing beats drinking a well-stirred martini while nestled in a cozy booth where Humphrey Bogart likely once sat.
4. Papilles
In a small storefront inside a strip mall near the 101 Freeway, chef Jordan Rosas prepares locally sourced vegetables from local farmers like Weiser and Flora Bella in an open kitchen. Rosas, who worked previously at Thomas Keller’s Bouchon and Marcel Vigneron’s Wolf, recently took over for chef Tim Carey, who is now at Lost at Sea in Pasadena. The menu format at Papilles matches the bistro’s interior: small and simple yet thoughtful and refined. The regularly changing, seasonal three-course prix fixe offers first-course starters such as carrot ginger velouté or romanesco salad and heartier mains like braised beef cheeks or a pork loin with sweet potatoes. At $38 per person, it is a steal. And just when the little unlikely bistro couldn’t seem any more charming, Santos Uy’s selection of natural old-world wines validates the meaning of the restaurant’s French name: tastebuds.
5. Hungry Cat
The Hungry Cat’s location in the heart of Hollywood, a stone’s throw from the ArcLight Cinemas, has made it an ideal pre-movie dinner spot for the 11-plus years since it opened. But after imbibing any of its farmers market–inspired cocktails and tasting chef David Lentz’s locally sourced, seasonal seafood creations, moviegoers are likely to forgo any screening for another round of local beer, kumquatinis and oysters. The Hungry Cat is a destination on its own. Lentz’s Maryland roots shine through in towering, multitiered platters of shellfish such as clams, marinated mussels, shrimp, snow crab and lobster. Dishes such as whole grilled orata with sunchoke purée, chanterelles and salsa verde are hard to forget, and the clam chowder is easily the best in town.
6. Paley
Paley, the shiny restaurant on Hollywood Boulevard in the new Columbus Square complex, aims to channel the Gilded Age of Hollywood with its midcentury-inspired dining room and serious service. It succeeds at channeling Old Hollywood without actually being old. Despite the traditional menu format, starters such as hamachi crudo and mains like king crab and Santa Barbara uni spaghetti with saffron and chives exhibit modern flair. With its lavish interior and welcoming bar, Paley is versatile as both a special-occasion destination and a casual meet-for-a-drink spot. It's open for lunch and dinner along with brunch on the weekends.
7. Baroo
At Baroo, the strange little fermentation-centric restaurant in a rundown strip mall, there is no table service and no alcohol. But we don’t go there for that. We go to Baroo because noorook, a bright pink koji beet cream risottolike plate of fermented grains, has a wonderfully chewy texture. We go there for faux oxtail “ragu” pasta that makes actual oxtail ragu seem unnecessary. Chef Kwang Uh (who interned with René Redzepi at Noma) has made Baroo famous with his esoteric process and fascinating food. Though Uh has left for Korea for a few months while co-owner Matthew Kim takes over, Baroo is as worthy of a visit as ever.
8. Petit Trois
Peruse the menu at Petit Trois and you’ll see some traditional French bistro fare: escargot, steak tartare, a croque madame, steak frites. It’s the kind of simple food that would seem unexciting if Ludo Lefebvre weren’t cooking it. It’s not that Lefebvre is doing anything imaginative with the omelette or French onion soup at the tiny strip mall, counter seating–only bistro. It’s that he’s doing the classics in the way only a true French chef who trained with the best in France and Los Angeles can do: perfectly.
9. Trois Mec
Have we tired of Trois Mec? Has the novelty of eating in a tiny room behind the guise of a Raffalo’s Pizza sign worn off? Does the food seem less thrilling, the concept less fresh? Not a bit. If anything, recent meals have been more exciting and more innovative than when Ludo Lefebvre, Jon Shook and Vinny Dotolo first won our hearts three years ago with their weird experiment of a restaurant. Over five glorious courses, you’re likely to find delicious oddities such as brightly acidic beet tartare with horseradish crème fraiche and a wedge of latke-like potato pancake, or tender chunks of bay scallop and foie gras swimming in a matsutake mushroom and miso broth that’s flecked with pickled sunchoke and hazelnut oil. With almost every dish, a new discovery is made, taste itself feels new and vibrant again. The experience will cost you around $100 per individual, including duty and tip (purchased early as a nonrefundable ticket), the music will be noisy, there are no menu choices. Which still feels as vital and riveting as it did from the get-go. —Besha Rodell
10. Salt's Cure
Since making the switch to a daily breakfast-lunch-and-dinner routine, Salt’s Cure has become a glorious model for the next-generation diner, a small, all-day operation that serves as a sunny spot where you can meet over some of the city’s best oatmeal pancakes, or indulge in the simple but stunning smoked fish on toast (smoked in-house, of course). There’s a killer burger at lunch, or a classic chopped salad, and the vibe is laid-back and friendly — just what you hope for in a neighborhood hangout. At night things turn a little more serious, with big hunks of meat (all animals are bought whole from local farmers and butchered in-house), or beautifully cooked fish prepared simply and thoughtfully. The space is barely more than a room with a kitchen in its center, and eating here can feel like strolling into someone’s storefront living space. But order a glass of odd wine, look to the blackboard for guidance, and know that just about anything you order will be better than you imagined. —B.R.
Recommend: Top 10 best restaurants in Cape Cod
From : https://wikitopx.com/food/top-10-best-restaurants-in-hollywood-700309.html
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kepxler · 2 years ago
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And if I make my poto fixation and my cod fixation kiss ? What then
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coatntails · 4 years ago
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reblogging this in honor of the cock ribbon stream
Is Red Death's codpiece supposed to have prominence, or am I just horny?
I kind of wanna say it depends on the codpiece!
Examining some of the examples posted by Operafantomet here and here, we get some variations. A few, like the Tokyo one, are obviously codpieces but well integrated into the rest of the costume; you would not notice them unduly.
But others, such as the one from the (original) UK tour, feature a most curvaceous lump, an excellently rounded swelling, a quite shapely bulge. One can’t help but look at those bountiful protuberances and think certain, pointedly optimistic thoughts.
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gremlinmodetweeker · 3 months ago
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A Man Among Ruins
So do any of you guys remember this one post HERE where someone told me about phantom of the opera!König? Well it's stuck in my head now. I'm gonna be reading the books, but before I did I wanted to start out with this little drabble here to set the stage.
TW: references to König being a nazi colonel (he left the army because he was disgusted by the nazis)
Wordcount: 1.5k
Art from This Post
Story below the cut
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A Man Among Ruins
In 1861, construction of an opera house began in Vienna. Over the course of many years, an elaborate building of columns, gold and marble was constructed. Stone was shipped from across the land to build up into the towering building, carved to perfection by the finest sculptors Austria could find. It took decades of work, but the Vienna State Opera opened its doors to the public.
Music echoed from the great belly of the beast across the land. Many came to take in the great and elaborate shrine of the arts, a beautiful and majestic plinth upon which life, death, romance and tragedy was acted out upon, dazzling spectators for generations to come.
Glorious, beautiful, and tragic.
During the world wars, the building was bombed by Allies, reduced to naught but rubble. There were no sculptors who came from generations of artisans, most had died in the war. There were less painters of great standing, for they had died in the war as well. All the greats of the time were lost, and the people were left to weep over what once had been.
However, in this tragedy, there came a small miracle.
A man, tarnished by war and now an outcast among his cohorts, found refuge in the basements beneath the building. Nobody saw the man slip in, nobody cared when he disappeared amongst the halls and stages of the rubble. Who could care? And why? He was a homeless man who could matter less, so why bother him when he slept among rubble and bones?
Maybe, that’s where he belonged. It certainly seemed that way, at least.
He was left to his meager kingdom, and so he relished in it. He took from the scraps left behind, fashioning himself a gentleman in costume garb. He found a great cloak, one big enough to hide even his grand size, and he managed to fashion himself a pretty mask from some remains. He then hid himself in the darkness fro years to come, only leaving at night to feast from rubbish bins and off local scraps. Occasionally, someone would find him and give him offerings, taking sympathy on his sorry state. He’d thank them in broken words, and retreat back into the darkness where no being could ever have the misfortune of laying eyes on him.
But the Vienna State Opera lived on as more than a memory. This man, no longer able to remember his name of who he was, was awoken by the sound of machines and men’s voices. He ventured forth from his lair, hiding among the ruined gardens to dare see who would trespass on his lands.
To his surprise, they were architects. They were overviewing the building, debating its demolition or its salvation. The man suspected they would disappear, but they came back. He feared they’d destroy his home, but they did nothing of the sort.
In fact, they built around him.
These practical people were stable and pragmatic, undeterred by whispered stories of giant men who lived among the ruins. Instead, they took to teasing each other as they cleared out what was lost, and rebuilt what they could. 
The man watched as his palace was built around him. Great stone columns stood tall and proud in the yard. Cherubs fluttered in pairs above doorways. The man watched the building rise around him, and though once he was afraid, now he saw himself as a king of a new land, and so he called himself as such.
He would watch from below as painters lay on their backs as they brushed billowing clouds and lush forests onto the ceilings. He saw designers bicker and argue over which curtains to hang on the main stage, hidden just out of view in the newly built seating area. He would crawl through the catwalks to follow set designers shaping the stage to their views. 
And he was proud.
He had been a soldier, a good soldier at that. He’d risen up the ranks, but when he learned of the war he was fighting, he fled. All the titles he’d earned, once glorious and beautiful, now were blemishes to his name. He would tell you he fled the world because of the blemishes that consumed his face, but this was not so. Rather, he could not live to be a part of such an evil on earth.
So, shame followed him wherever he went, a shadow of a deserter cast onto the walls behind him.
Now, he was different.
It started one day when a young actor caught sight of him on the catwalks.
He only knew she saw him because she raised her finger at him, and called out a word he’d never heard used against him before.
“A ghost!”
A ghost? Was that what he was?
He didn’t stay long enough to figure it out. Instead, he swung out of sight and back into the darkness. He worried someone might shoo him from his home like a common gutter rat, but instead, he was more welcomed than before.
“It’s a ghost,” he heard someone whisper when he crawled through the backways of the building, now perching to peer down at the backstage where the actors had huddled.
“It must be a man who was here during the bombing,” said a big, burly man with a resonating voice.
“Do you think it’s possible?” a strawberry blonde waif of a woman perched on a velvet stool before her vanity.
“I saw him with my own eyes!” the blond woman from before declared, “it’s not just possible, it’s real!”
“Do you think he means any harm?” the woman on the stool finally turned to her coworkers.
The blonde woman thought for a moment. She pressed a finger to her chin in deliberation, then said, “I think he was more afraid of me than I was of him.”
“Well, if he was afraid of you, what’s the likelihood he could do any harm?” the big man’s laughter rolled like thunder.
The man smugly thought that he could kill them all within a minute of descending down on them, but was quite content to keep such things to himself. He’d come to like these patrons of his home, considered them a sort of family by now. He was more than happy to let them stay, as long as they didn’t try to drive him out.
And they didn’t. Instead, they welcomed him in with new rumors, and to his delight, gifts. They said that if the phantom accepted your offerings, your performance would go smoothly. The man was more than glad to ensure all their performances were exemplary, so long as his stomach was full.
He didn’t take too kindly to one woman begrudgingly complaining that ‘the phantom’s going to get too heavy to sneak so silently if this keeps up’, but he still ate her offered truffles happily, and when a stagelight looked as though it might fall, he held it in place the entire evening. Only when the last guest left did he let go, where it tumbled down into a cacophonous mess. She notably left out two boxes of truffles the next time she was set to go on stage.
The man relished in his palace. He was a beloved being, a mascot for the theater. They adored him and showered him with gifts, and he took them in kind.
Of course, looking from the balconies could be lonely. He watched them perform, acting out beautiful stories of love and joy below him, and he would imagine himself as the great hero below. He envied the men, sometimes. However, he still took their gifts and watched over them. They were all part of his watch, and he’d treat each of them in kind.
When the stage was empty and nobody was around, the man would go down and onto the stage. There, he would sing to the empty chairs. His voice would project, following all the tips those singers gave each other, and he would fill the entire building with his beautiful, sonorous voice.
So there he stood on his stage, singing The Marriage of Figaro’s ‘Se voul ballare’ so brightly to an empty stadium, accompanied by a silent orchestra. He sang with all his heart, his voice carrying across the entire hall and resonating back at him. Beautiful, glorious and true. He was glad, and you could only imagine his surprise when he heard a small set of hands clapping.
His eyes snapped over to the source of the sound, and there he laid eyes upon the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. And just as soon as he was spotted, he dashed to a stage ladder, scrambled up to a series of props, and ducked behind them out of sight.
As he raced back to the basement, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could hardly believe he’d let himself be seen. And for how long? He’d finished the song by the time they made their presence known. A part of him wondered what they thought of his singing. Did they like his voice? He’d trained for so long, but he’d never expected an audience. He was never quite good enough for that.
But they had clapped for him.
Warmth bloomed in his chest.
Yes, they had clapped for him, and they had done so happily.
He would need to keep watch over this new little songbird.
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Konig Dump
Konig AU stories
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gremlinmodetweeker · 3 months ago
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More Phantom of the Opera!König! This time a full body shot. I really like the idea that he's dressed to the nines but lives with the rats. Maybe reader will help bring him out of his shell? I dunno, I just think he's neat.
Konig Dump
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gremlinmodetweeker · 3 months ago
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I drew some versions of Phantom of the Opera!König, both with and without the mask. He's pretty handsome, but the mask makes him feel better about himself.
Konig Dump
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