underground lair

So, my cousin and I were chitchating about PotO the other day (she’s a baby phan, she just read the Leroux novel) and she had this brainwave about a Phantom of the Opera theme park, and we started toying with the idea and what it would look like and what it would include and well… these are some of the ridiculous things we came up with:

  • “some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera”, playing from the speakers whenever someone enters the park
  • an underground lair boat ride
  • a chandelier drop tower 
  • a chandelier chair swing ride
  • a Punjab Lasso reverse bungee
  • Punjab lasso claw machines where you can catch monkey plushies
  • a mirror funhouse (obviously)
  • a “find the safety pin” game
  • a torture chamber escape room with live actors as the Daroga and Raoul
  • karaoke (once again, obviously)
  • a “catch Christine’s scarf” game
  • small comical skits every day at 5pm, possibly inspired by the Tumblr posts of the Phandom
  • a “climb the elephant from Hannibal” climbing wall
  • an “escape the rat catcher” flipping doors game 
  • dunking game with musical/book trivia or musical lyrics
  • “keep your hand at the level of your eyes to take a photo”
  • a roller coaster ride that takes you to the roof of the opera house, then plunges to the cellars
  • a trapdoor escape game 
  • a “climb the rafters” zip line/climbing game
  • scorpion/grasshopper animal springers for da babies
  • pony rides with Cesar for da toddlers
  • a souvenir shop with all sorts of PotO memorabilia and merch
  • actual masquerade balls every Wednesday and Saturday, and the invitations will be notes signed by Erik
  • a small museum showcasing the history of the book and the musical
  • there will be street names like “Rue Scribe” or “Rue Notre Dame de Victoires” and the centre square will be “la Place de l’Opera”
  • an actor dressed as the Daroga, wandering around the theme park, randomly staring at people suspiciously
  • the faucet handles in the WCs will be a scorpion and a grasshopper, and you’ll have to turn the grasshopper for hot water and the scorpion for cold water (because Erik would definately be the cold water lmao)
  • a hologram of Erik will show up in the WC’s mirrors every now and then to scare the shit out of people
  • Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber “head in the hole’s”
  • A “Cafe de l’Opera” coffeshop/restaurant/bar/whatever (just like the one that’s across the Opera House in Paris) where there will be a self-service policy for wines and spirits and you’ll have to go get them yourself from actual wine barrels and every time you pour wine in your glass you’ll hear “barrels! barrels! any barrels to sell?” from the speakers
  • “IIIIT’S OOOVER NOOOW THE MUUUSIC OFFFF THEEE NIIIIGHT” playing whenever someone leaves

…I never realized just how much I needed this in my life aND I SWEAR I’LL GIVE MY KIDNEY TO ANYONE WHO’LL MAKE IT HAPPEN

{feel free to make your own additions to the list. actually, please make your own additions to the list}

The Types and Why the Repair Man is Here

ISFP: They lost a game of monopoly they were really invested in and punched a wall in anger.
ISFJ: The book character they loved died and they threw their book out the window… then jumped out after it having regretted it immediately.
ISTP: Their friend had only wanted to roast marshmallows, but they got so entranced by the fire they couldn’t help but set the house ablaze.
ISTJ: They were trying to redecorate their house and knocked over a lamp, which in turn fell over and made a hole in the wall.
INFP: They had a mild existential crisis about whether or not they exist, then tried to walk through a wall to see if they were a ghost.
INFJ: They were trying to solve a crime that had happened across the street and went all-out with the reenactment.
INTP: They forgot they had food on the stove, went on tumblr, and the whole house caught on fire.
INTJ: There was a minor structural error in their underground office/lair and the whole thing collapsed.
ESFP: They have a crush on the repair man and decided the only way to get them to come over was to smash the windows.
ESFJ: Their dinner party got out of hand. Maybe letting ENTP cut the cake wasn’t a good idea after all…
ESTP: They got really drunk and thought it would be a good idea to dance on the table.
ESTJ: They discovered it was cheaper to knock down the wall themself and then call a repair man than hire a contractor.
ENFP: The woodland creature they snuck into the house clawed all of the walls and cabinets.
ENFJ: They had this whole party planned for their friend and long story short there was an incident with the rental tiger.
ENTP: They decided to test out online make-it-yourself weapons and it went terribly, terribly wrong.
ENTJ: The police found out about their ambitions to take over the world and confiscated their notes and trashed their apartment.

Things the Phantom of the Opera does in the play:

  • Sings
  • Composes an opera
  • Kills a few guys

Things the Phantom of the Opera does in the book:

  • Sings
  • Composes an opera
  • Kills a lot of guys
  • Invents ventriloquism
  • Masters the art of illusions and sleight-of-hand
  • Carries out a series of political assassinations in Persia
  • Builds two (2) palaces so renowned for their beautiful and ingenious architecture, his clients attempt to murder him
  • Builds robots
  • Builds an underground lair with a torture chamber as elaborate as anything in the Saw movies
  • Uses a lasso to strangle anyone who discovers his identity

Zinn’s Secret Underground Lair / Laboratory - The Falls in Maguma Jungle, Guild Wars 1

Zinn was one of my all time favorite NPC’s in the original Guild Wars. His interactions, especially with G.O.X. always made me laugh. After completing the new Flashpoint achievement to find all of his recordings… I couldn’t resist popping back into the original game to pay him a visit. 

@demisexualhale sorry you had a rough time today. have this au that i saw you talking about after i creeped on your blog. it’s… uh. probably not what anyone involved thought it would be. but i hope you like it? 


sterek. 2k. spy au. warnings: i know nothing about spies, secret criminal organizations, or technology in general. just roll with it.

“I’ll pay you twenty bucks to hum the Mission Impossible theme while I do this,” Stiles muttered, fishing an exacto knife out of his tool belt. He fit it under the very edge of the ID scanner and, with a flick of his wrist, popped it off like a dream.

“You could pay me twenty thousand and I still wouldn’t do it.”

“Spoilsport.” Gently pulling all the wires out into the open was the easy part; it was identifying the right one to snip that was going to be the tricky part. Would it kill all organized crime syndicates to stick to one universal standard?

“Try the yellow wire. Third from the left.”

Try?” Stiles repeated under his breath. “We’ve been planning this job for weeks and you want me to go in with ‘try’?”

He could practically hear the eye roll on the other end of the earbud. “Cut the wire, agent.”

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A New Companion, Chapter 3

TITLE: A New Companion


AUTHOR: fanficshiddles

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you turned yourself into a dog by accident when you got a potion wrong. Loki finds you on the street in the winter and takes you in, as he feels bad for you out in the cold and he also feels a connection with you. Then one night he falls asleep with you, a dog, at the bottom of his bed and wakes up to find a woman there instead.


‘So… How does it feel to have just fucked your dog?’ Vina asked teasingly as she lay in Loki’s arms in his bed.

‘Well, she is a pedigree bitch. So I’d say she was satisfactory.’ Loki grinned.

‘Hey!’ Vina said as she nudged his side.

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Have a happy humpday! NSFW Raph smut


The quiet was deep and welcome, the lack of noise a cherished balm on her overworked senses. The constant stimulate of the city was something she’d grown used to long ago, but these rare moments when she slipped underground to find the lair unoccupied – save Splinter – were treasured. Not that she minded the company… but it was nice to enjoy the silence from time to time, and there was next to none of that when the boys were home.

She glanced briefly at her phone, noting the time before setting the device aside again, her attention returning to the book in her hand. They would likely be returning soon.

Then, as though conjured by her thoughts, the distinct sounds of their voices carried through the tunnels, shattering the solitude. She frowned. Judging by the volume and tone of one voice in particular, something had happened.

Uncrossing her ankles, she swung her legs down from the arm of the couch, turning and pushing herself into an upright position as she marked her page. Placing the novel aside, she glanced at the entrance and awaited their arrival… and the imminent storm she could hear approaching.

His anger was palpable, rolling off of him in waves as stalked into the lair, the others giving him a wide berth. His chest was heaving, muscles tense, eyes murderous as he glowered at his older brother. Time seemed to crawl to a stop as the two stared at one another, each daring the other to say something, do something. Finally, after what seemed a tense eternity, Raphael curled his upper lip in disdain and turned away, moving swiftly toward his room. The door, a thick sheet of metal he’d rigged up with some salvaged hardware, nearly rattled off its hinges when he pulled it shut, the sound echoing through the cavernous space like thunder. She wouldn’t have been surprised if someone topside had heard it.

Calmly, soundlessly, she stood and followed after him, slipping into his room and settling herself on his bed without a word. He was pacing, he always did when he was upset, and she thought to herself – not for the first time – that he was incredibly enticing when he was mad. His eyes practically glowing, wide jaw set and tense, sinew and muscle rippling beneath his scaled skin like waves. But she didn’t say it. She never said anything in situations like these.

No… these situations called for patience. He would reveal to her what he needed in due time.

Sometimes he needed to vent, to voice the vicious thoughts that raced through his mind. And she would listen, mute and unjudging, as he expelled his frustrations verbally. Other times he wouldn’t say a thing. He would simply continue to pace, her presence alone seeming to calm him, until eventually he would come to sit by her, sighing deeply and soaking in her nearness. And sometimes, when he was truly riled, he needed another kind of outlet. Somewhere to direct all of the emotions churning inside him like a hurricane.

It seemed like this time it would be the latter.

He stopped quite suddenly, turning to pin her with his stare, nostrils flaring, eyes blazing as though back-lit by the fires of hell. The look he gave her was full of madness and greed, and she understood, pushing herself further onto the bed and leaning back as he approached. The large male prowled over her like some rabid demon, taking in a lungful of her sweet scent. Acceptance, anticipation, surrender. Desire pooled low in his gut, making him growl deeply, and he gripped the front of her shirt.

“You’re mine,” he rumbled as he stared into her eyes, watching her pupils shrink and dilate.

“Yes,” she whispered, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the chains that kept his fury in check.

The fabric gave way easily in his strong hands, falling to ragged pieces around her. She held tightly to the sheets as he divested her of the remainder of her clothing, his motions violent and hurried. When she was bare before him he pulled back, rising up onto his knees to stare down at her pale flesh. Her breasts trembled with every shuddering breath she took, taut stomach clenching, long legs splayed delightfully for his pleasure. She looked divine, like some kind of sacrificial maiden laid out for a hungry beast. When the smell of her arousal filled his head, he decided he felt every bit the part of the ravenous creature.

He bent, taking one final draught of that heavenly aroma before pressing his mouth against her glistening center, drinking deeply of her excitement.

She arched against him, withholding the sharp cry that threatened to erupt from her lips. He was not quiet in his enjoyment of her, sampling her slick flesh with fervor. His tongue was insistent, teasing her clit until she shook before slinking lower to collect the fruits of his labour. Again and again… bringing her to the brink before denying her, until she could hardly breathe, the pleasure so immense it was choking. When he finally ventured deeper, spearing into her with that wide, talented tongue of his, she came, unable to stop the shriek of delight that clawed its way up her throat. He didn’t pause as she thrashed against him, holding her in place with a steely arm across her hips. He brought her to second climax soon after, and a third. When he finally pulled back she was reeling, twitching as she descended from her mind-numbing high.

Her wetness was everywhere; her thighs, the sheets, his lips. Good. She was ready. He glanced up the length of her beautiful body again, divesting himself of his gear and armor. When he lowered himself over her again, carefully keeping the bulk of his mass from her as he settled between her legs, he purred into her ear, “You look like a fuckin’ angel.”

She laughed a little at that. She was no angel. A fallen angel, perhaps… she was hardly pure. But for him… for him she could be one. She would be a light in his darkness, the guiding hand that led him to absolution. She didn’t know if she would be getting any rest tonight, or even tomorrow… it would depend on the level of his anger, but she would endure. That was what he needed, and that was what she would provide.

His thrust was sudden and not at all gentle, and she thanked whatever god was listening that he’d prepared her so adequately. The feeling of him inside her was one she didn’t think she’d ever grow accustomed to. It was overwhelming, a sensation that was just as much pain as it was pleasure, and the masochist in her revelled in it. A part of her needed this as much as he did, this brutal release, succumbing to the darkest of passions. He moved her with his hunger well past the morning hours, time slipping into nothingness as he sought and found his peace within her, announcing his completion with a deafening roar.

She lifted a hand to trace his jaw, their tired eyes meeting, and she gifted him with a breathless smile.

He watched her for a handful of seconds, seeming to drink in the expression with a sort of wonderment before slanting his mouth over hers in a kiss that was both deep and slow, his wordless proclamation of gratitude. Thank you for enduring. Thank you for being here. Thank you for staying with me. A hundred ‘thank yous’ passed between their lips, unspoken but heard.

She thanked him in her own way, too, small kisses littered across his face and neck, down his arms and chest. Thank you for your passion. Thank you for coming to me in your time of need. Thank you for trusting me enough to let me help you. She didn’t think he quite realized what she was doing yet… but she imagined that one day he would.

**Apologies for the lack of regular smut, as of late… hope this makes up for it**


Haunted Mansion catacombs.

One of the original ideas in New Orleans Square was to pull every ride (Pirates, Tom Sawyer, Haunted Mansion) under a unifying theme.

This attraction was a walk through catacomb that led from outside the Mansion to Tom Sawyers island, to a new underground area called “Pirates Lair.”

The idea was there was a bloodthirsty pirate who owned the Mansion and was alluded to in the POC ride. The bodies in the catacombs were the 999 Happy Haunts. Why they were happy is a mystery.


HQ Sherlock Backdrops - Part 3 -

Excellent resource backgrounds for making Sherlock edits or graphics - Cut out your characters & put them infront of: The Diogenes Club, Irene Adler’s house, Mycroft’s underground lair, Bart’s Hospital, the Thames foreshore from The Great Game, the wedding venue, Janine/CAM’s office & 221b with added booky goodness!

Other Backdrops here: (Tardis 1) (Tardis 2) (Sherlock 1) (Sherlock 2) (Sherlock 3) (Sherlock 4)


On April 21, 1957, Mrs. Marshall of Lewisham Park in London, found a note beside her backyard fence. The contents of the note were spine chilling. It was from a young lady being held hostage in a dug out prison underneath her neighbors shed. The police were called and they searched the house of John Raymond Bridal. Sure enough, just as the note said, there was 28 year old Marjorie Jordan, locked in a reinforced cellar under the shed. It was made up like a small apartment, bed, chairs, table, and even a radio. Bridal was immediately arrested and Marjorie was taken to the hospital.

She was seized from her room in a boarding house on January 7th by Bridal. He broke into her room, tied her up and kidnapped her on the back of his motorcycle. He took her back to his house where he told her he needed help with his inventions. He wasn’t exactly lying, he was an inventor, at least he wanted to be, but her main job would be digging. Digging his under shed dungeon so there would be more room for his inventions, and, oddly, for his laundry. He didn’t sexually assault her, but he did force her to obey his instructions. When she didn’t listen he made her undress in front of him or beat her. So she dug, for 105 days she was trapped in Bridal’s twisted world. Finally, as she was being led to the washroom one night, she managed to sneak the note over the fence which was her only view for the past few months.

Bridal went to trial at the Old Baily. Though he professed she was only helping him and was there consensually, he ended up pleading guilty to unlawful imprisonment and assault. The court only gave him a sentence of a measly three years. Of the whole incident Marjorie had this to say:

“I shovelled out earth and put it into buckets which he pulled up. Sometimes we loaded as many as sixty buckets a day…He would come into the room each night and let me come up to his house…He would stand guard outside the bathroom door while I washed. Then he would lead me back to the room…He got an electric stove and fixed up the current in the hole and everyday he would lower down food which he bought from shopping lists I made out for him…About three weeks ago he decided I was resigned to my fate and he let down a wireless set…I had my handbag compact, luckily, so I was able to do my face each day and keep my self respect a bit…But, golly, how I longed to go to the hairdresser or else have a darned good bath.”

That british 1950s stiff upper lip really showing.

Pictured above: gifs from archival footage, first is Marjorie Jordan, then John Bridal (in glasses), Mrs. Marshall demonstrating where she found the note and a few shots of his underground lair.

Alphabet Setting Prompts!

Antique Shop
Enchanted forest
Ice cream shop
Karate class
Nursing home
Parking lot
Storage Room
Underground lair
X-ray room
Yard sale

Jock or Not

Originally posted by maddeninglyrichard

Reggie Mantle x OC

Words: 2,300

Note; brief mention of death, pictured Emmy Rossum as Nina, slight swearing.

It was an average day in the small and quaint town that I lived in, nothing very special about the day. I had work at the local coffee shop, Grundy’s Grind, and I was babysitting tonight - two toddler twins, Bella and Ben. Not much of an excentric lifestyle, but I managed.

I needed to save up money for University anyway, and since I decided to take a gap year to save up money for school, I took and did what needed to do. Plus, I was going to be staying on campus, which was extra money. Why I chose to go to Manhattan Art Academy, I have no idea.

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: Robbie cuts Sportacus's hair, could be shipping or not

I had zero ideas for this one until I actually started writing. 

In which I give Sportacus my fear of curling irons because none of you can stop me:

“You know, most heroes wouldn’t let a villain so close to their neck with a sharp object,” Robbie pointed out.

“Most heroes probably have actually barbers in their towns,” Sportacus replied, frowning as he twirled a lock of damp hair in his face. Robbie slapped his hand away and wrapped a black cape around Sportacus’ shoulders.

“You’ll need to sit still,” Robbie said, “Can you do that?”

“Of course I can.”

“Well excuse me; I’ve only ever seen you on the ‘kangaroo’ setting. Not the ‘still’ setting.”

Sportacus giggled. Robbie clamped a hand on his shoulder, “I said still.” Still grinning, Sportacus sat up straight. The underground lair fell silent as Robbie combed Sportacus’ hair. Soon after, Robbie began cutting. 

He cut with a practiced ease Sportacus had been hoping for. If Robbie had said no to his strange request for a haircut, his next stop at been Bessie’s house. There was no telling how Sportacus’ hair would have turned out then. 

Sportacus felt the cool metal of the scissors against his eat and flinched. The cold retracted immediately and Robbie asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Just… be careful of my ears, okay?”

“Oh I’m so glad you said something, I was planning on just slicing through them.”

Sportacus knew full well Robbie was being sarcastic but he still reached up and cupped his hands over his ears. Robbie walked around until he was in front of Sportacus. Tucking the scissors in his pocket, he grabbed Sportacus’ wrist and gently pulled them down.

“Exactly what is your problem?” He asked not unkindly.

“I… I know they stick out a bit,” Sportacus looked down at his boots, “I’m always afraid they’re going to get cut. That’s why I wanted someone I trusted to cut my hair.” He felt embarrassment color his cheeks, “I know it’s stupid but I’ve had problems in the past with barbers cutting too close or curling irons burning them or… sorry, it’s stupid.”

At some point during his rant, Robbie had released his wrists. When Sportacus found the courage to pick up his head again, he was giving Sportacus an odd look. Sportacus expected Robbie to agree with him at any second.

After a moment, Robbie snorted, “You know, most heroes wouldn’t trust a villain.”

Sportacus let himself smile, “Most heroes probably don’t worry about stupid stuff like this.”

“It’s not stupid,” Robbie walked back around behind Sportacus, “What’s stupid is that you let someone get near you with a curling iron. Have you seen your hair? What would you need that for?”

A bubble of laughter found its way out of Sportacus throat. 

What followed was probably the most stress-free hair cut he had ever had.

the funniest thing about the institute using synth crows to watch your every move up on the surface is that at some point your dickhead kid has to realise that his parent is more interested in building intricate turret systems, having a phenomenal amount of great gay sex and becoming a melon farming trade baron than they are in finding and visiting his boring underground nerd lair.

Kiss It Better (Sara Lance x Reader)

Request: Hi! It’s the sara lance anon. Can you do a prompt where sara had a crush on the reader in high school and recognizes the reader instantly when the reader is out and about with their new superpowers?

Prompt: You bump into the white canary who recognized you during a fight and after cleaning up your wound, she confesses her high school crush on you.


Warning: Some violence but not a lot. Like the reader gets punched once and a guy gets knocked out. Some mention of blood.

A/N: This is my first time writing for female EVER!! Let me know what you guys think:) Happy Readings!

Originally posted by randombiohacker

Originally posted by thedarkoneswan

“Let go of me!” you heard a woman scream as you patrolled through the streets. You followed the screams and found two guys harassing a girl for her money. The tall and skinny guy went through her purse while the other guy, who was a bit smaller but built held her down.

You raise up your hand and send vibrations that knock the guy holding the purse against the alley’s wall. Speed was not one of your strong suits so when the other guy swings a punch you don’t duck down in time. You take a few steps back and bring a hand up to your mouth and see some blood on it. You look up in time to see him raise his clenched hand, ready to swing when a blond lady hit him over the head with a crowbar that was on the ground. The guy falls to the floor in pain and you knock him unconscious.

“Y/n?” you look up at hearing your name and finally get a good look at the blond girl who you now recognize.

“Sara? Wait..you are the white canary?” you say looking her up and down, taking in her appearance.

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