@raoulstineweek Day 6/7: Celebration/Free Day!

I decided to combine the 2 days together because I was struggling a little. I decided to use White Day as the celebration as March 15 is White Day, a follow up to Valentines Day in most countries such as Japan and Korea. Here’s a lineless chibi Fem R/C I did based on the AU @christinescarf​ @/najlaved (doesn’t have Tumblr as of this post) and I made. 

Anyways, look out for a possible name change soon. 

Raoulstine Week 2022 Day 4: Feelings

Maybe

“Did you hear that? The vicomte, at the performance tonight!” Meg giggled, shutting the door to her dressing room. “Isn't it amazing?”

Christine looked down at her hairbrush. She knew that if she glanced in the mirror she'd see the hot blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Yes, I suppose,” she whispered. Meg placed a hand on her shoulder. “I'll bet he remembers you,” she said, in that singsong-tone that made Christine roll her eyes and grin.

“Why would he? We knew each other when we were children. It was years ago.” She’d been telling herself this all afternoon. She had the Hannibal performance to focus on. She had no time for these girlish thoughts. Besides, back then they were only friends.

“Yes. Then you were only friends. Maybe now, that you're both grown-up…”

Christine shook her head, all of a sudden thinking the room was much too warm. “Oh-- Meg, stop! Please! I can't afford to be so ridiculous. I must get ready.”

Meg shrugged, stepping back. Christine brushed her hair. They were silent.

After a while, Meg’s laugh filled up the little room. “You know, you've been brushing that same lock of hair for five minutes now.”

Christine half-giggled, gulped, and promptly put down the brush. All too soon, Madame Giry came knocking and Meg was called back to ballet practice. All too soon--as she was nervous--Christine was onstage, but for the first time, she wasn't relegated to the background. As she sang she gained confidence. This was what she was meant to do. She sang for herself and not for him, but hoped her voice touched him all the same. And in the back of her mind was a small, wonderful “maybe”. With any luck, the performance wouldn't be the only magic of the night.

Raoulstine Week 2022 Day 7: Free Day

He dipped the forcola deeper into the water. Forward, back, side to side-- each time bringing the two of them closer to warmth and light. They could both use some warmth and light.

“Raoul--” Christine’s lovely voice broke into his thoughts, “You don’t have to hold the oar so tightly. Your knuckles are white.”

“So they are,” he mumbled, looking down at his fingers. He flexed them and then continued on.

Soon they reached the dock and ventured up back to the living world, mostly in silence. What was there to say? Not much, at least in the shock of the moment.

As they wandered the halls of the opera, Meg rushed up to Christine and hugged her. “I wanted to go and find you,” she said hurriedly. “But Mother said I couldn’t go, and when I got there you were gone--”

“I’m alright, Meg,” Christine said with an easy laugh. How, he had no idea. “We’re safe now, both of us,” she looked right at him.

Before he could think of anything to say in response, a tortured, wailing sound made itself known. He and Christine exchanged puzzled looks before running down the hall and around the corner to follow it. Meg trailed behind. “It’s best you don’t bother her, La Carlotta--”

But they didn’t listen, and the door to the diva’s dressing room was ajar. They entered a crowd of people-- among them Meg’s mother and the managers-- who were consoling the clearly distraught woman.

“All he did was perform his part-- he did what was demanded of him!” she growled through tears. “And--” she looked up. Raoul had to admit to himself he was slightly scared of the hatred that crossed her face then. “And it was all because of Christine Daae! It’s her fault he is gone!”

He stepped in front of Christine and spread his arms out to shield her, but she pushed them down. “What are you talking about? What’s my fault?”

She sneered. “How dare you pretend you know nothing! My Piangi is dead, and all because of you!”

The chatter stopped, and the entire room collectively wilted. Christine wilted-- he could feel it. He looked back to see her shoulders sink and her eyes shine with unshed tears.

“I-- I’m sorry--” she whispered, extending a hand to the Prima Donna. “If there is anything I can do--”

“There is nothing! You have done enough!” Carlotta shouted.

“Perhaps we should retire, Andre,” Firmin muttered in a hushed tone. Most others followed, but Meg and her mother stayed behind. He was glad for that, in a way. They weren’t alone.

“He didn’t deserve this! He didn’t do anything! It could have been anyone else! It could just as easily have been you!” she screamed, and pointed her finger at him.

“Signora--” Madame Giry said sternly, to no avail.

“It should have been you! You and Daae are obviously in love-- anyone with eyes and half a brain can see it! And the ghost has eyes everywhere. It should have been you instead!” He couldn’t breathe, didn’t dare to.

“Signora! Need I remind you that you are speaking to the Vicomte de Chagny?” Madame Giry reprimanded. He swallowed and shook his head.

“It’s alright, madame. She is not in her right mind,” he replied softly. He took Christine’s hand, too limp and cold for his liking. “Come, Christine. Let us leave her alone.” Carlotta’s shouts rang in his ears, even as they faded while they walked back down the hall.

“Raoul-- she’s right, it’s all my fault--” Christine cried suddenly, gripping his arms with all her strength. “I feel terrible…” She sobbed into his shoulder, and he couldn’t care less that she was ruining his shirt.

“Listen to me,” he breathed, pulling away only to look her in the eye. “Don’t for another second believe that any of this is your fault. The only one responsible for his actions is him. Carlotta will see that, in time. She’s only angry, my love. And she has every right to be-- it is wrong that Piangi is dead. But she has no right to be angry at you.”

She continued to cry. “And what she said, about you? Oh, Raoul--”

“Sssh. We’ll be alright.” he murmured.

It could have just as easily been he who died that night. Maybe it should have been. Logically, it should have been. But it wasn’t.

Carlotta would come to terms with that someday, he knew. Still, he went back to her dressing room later, as the Vicomte de Chagny, just to speak to her and make sure she didn’t talk to Christine in that manner ever again.

@raoulstineweek

Okay so I forgot to post things on the right day! OH WELL, that just means I’m gonna cram two stories into today, the last day. Efficient!

First up, for Family:

Life continues on for Raoul and his wife, but, stalked by a figure from their past, will he ever find peace? Post-ALW, 1,700 words, drama/comedy, rated G, very dumb and it’s maybe my favorite thing I’ve written.

And second, for Celebration:

Despite Erik’s warnings, Christine celebrates her first Christmas with Raoul and receives a gift that leaves no doubt about which man loves her most. Written for PotO Advent Calendar 2020, 2,500 words, a strong T rating, sort of funny? I think it’s funny. Raoul would not.

Also, I suppose I’d better add in a plug for my ongoing WIP, which features a post-ALW married Raoul and Christine, but like, Erik is there too.

111,000 words so far, strong M rating, drama/comedy/angst/sex stuff.

It was in writing this one that I really grew to love Raoul and appreciate the depth and complexity he adds to the story. So, sorry, 13 year old Flora, but he’s actually not the villain of the story. (The villain is that darn lasso, it just has a mind of its own! Erik is, of course, completely blameless and actually a perfect baby angel who just wants to be loved; you did get that right. 🥰🥰 KIDDING ofc)

Day 6 of @raoulstineweek is celebration for which I though Masquerade seemed very fitting. I remember seeing Raoul had a Harlequin outfit in one of the non-replica productions & thought the idea seemed very cute especially with how much harlequin/ballerina art there seems to be so here’s my take on it!

Raoulstine Week 2022 Day 6: Celebration

Think of It (A Secret Engagement)

“May I come in?” Raoul's voice rumbled pleasantly from behind the door. Christine could hear his happiness, which only made the knot in her stomach grow tighter.

“Yes, you may,” she replied absently, folding her fingers over the ring.

Attached to a silver necklace, she couldn't bear to look at it. It was so beautiful. Certainly the most beautiful thing she had ever been given. Its diamond was so clear she could nearly see her face in it, and oh, how it sparkled in the light…

She wished with all her heart she could wear it proudly on her finger, and display it to everyone at the masquerade. But she knew that was impossible.

“I've arranged for a carriage to take us for a ride later. If it is too cold outside, or if you're tired, I can send it back, but I thought you would enjoy it,” Raoul said as he jogged inside. She heard his words but could not for the life of her make out their meaning, her thoughts were so preoccupied.

“Raoul…” she began, but couldn't fathom what to say to him. So she simply looked down at her fist, blinking furiously to keep back tears.

He chuckled, a warm sound from his belly that made it so much harder for her to stay somewhat composed. She glimpsed from the corner of her eye his boyish grin reflected in the mirror. He rested his hands on her shoulders, a gesture so comforting Christine thought she might shatter.

“Tonight will be wonderful. Imagine the looks on Firmin and André’s faces when they hear of our engagement. When they see your ring…” He stopped, finally looking down at her.

“Christine, what's wrong? Where is your ring?”

The whole room seemed to spin around her. In that moment, his questions were drowned out by the Phantom’s vibrato filling her head. So tantalizing, so beautiful, and yet so horrifyingly deafening. A sob escaped her. She could not be wholly present with Raoul. And, of course, she now had to break his heart.

“I-- I'm sorry, Raoul. But I-- I won't be wearing it tonight.”

He said nothing, but took his hands off her shoulders and stepped back. There was tension in the room with them now. There was the Phantom in the room with them now, but sweet Raoul had no idea of any of it.

He cleared his throat, and spoke with quiet reservation that, to Christine, was almost worse than shouting or anger. “And why not?”

She sniffled, then took a deep breath. She needed to be strong, to not raise his suspicion or that of her angel of music.

“I just don't want to right now, Raoul--”

“Why not?” His voice raised in volume, though still he did not yell. She glanced back at him, but darted her gaze away because she couldn't look him in the eye. He was confused, he was hurt, he was betrayed. She saw it all in those youthful eyes she knew so well.

But whatever pain he felt now was worth preventing what the Phantom might do to him, she told herself. She remembered Buquet’s limp body dangling from the ceiling and shuddered. It was strange, how an angel could cause a disaster beyond imagination. And she would do everything in her power to make sure another one did not happen. If only she could tell him how she was just protecting him like he did her.

“You will know soon, darling. You will. But now, let us just go to this party. Please, don't upset me-- I have just washed my face and I wouldn't want to frown any more or make it run with tears. Get dressed, and then we shall make our way to the celebration. Enjoy yourself this evening. For my sake if not your own,” she said, holding her chin up high. Her reflection glared steadily back at her-- resolved and resolute.

He sighed, biting his lip and tugging on his waistcoat jacket. The latter was a tick of his she found quite adorable, but now she paid it no mind. For her strength and her sanity she paid it no mind.

“Alright. I'll see you shortly, Christine,” he muttered, making large, brisk strides to the door that crashed against her ears.

“It’s around my neck, Raoul,” she burst out, standing up and facing him. The chain was heavy and cold.

Colder still was his stoniness.

“It is meant to be worn on your finger,” he replied curtly, shutting the door behind him.

She collapsed onto the floor, her nails digging into the soft loveseat for dear life. The tulle of her joyous pink skirt crumpled around her.

She didn't care if her angel was watching, she didn't care that she had just washed her face and was made to look like a shining star princess. Christine cried, because the last thing she had ever dreamed of was a secret engagement.

Day 7: Free day!!!

Mizrahi/Sephardi Jewish Christine

Let's go home-Natsuki Takaya

ID:Christine (with Mizrahi/Sephardi heritage) telling Raoul of Mizrahi (Moroccan heritage) that they are going home,up to the surface

"Rai-Rai let's go home as our community is waiting for us"

This one is a free day so I capture my Christine telling Raoul that they're going home to where their Jewish community is

For this duo,I did their names to Cidila and Rauf as they use it as a way to blend into Gentile Parisian society

This free day is showing Cidila (Christine) telling Rauf (Raoul )in the phantom's lair  that they're ready to go home after she return the ring back to the Phantom (It's a mini in between scene before they riding the boat),This is one unforgettable Yom Kippur  that they're never forget (also he organised this day to premiere Don Juan to catch him in the act which did backfired in that day) which they are warmly welcomed back by their community and have that meal/supper from this ordeal they went through,I enjoying painting the boat and the environment here,I recently play around with a hanfu inspired coat

Plus it's nice to showcase the diversity of the Jewish Culture beyond the east european that normally seen in media,I pick the Sephardi (Spanish Jewish) and Mizrahi (MENA/SWANA Jewish) which is not shown much in the media and thought it will be lovely to showcase here.This Christine is created from @behindthemirrorofmusic who created a lovely Phantom Jewish history which showcase how Jewish representation play a part in Phantom

I got some additional help from navybird from my Discord in being the supervisor on the lived Jewish experience after my bad head-canon writing  which I'm not good at,In art department for my POC jewish Christine and Raoul duo,I use a good combination of looks for them,Christine is the most fun as I mix the SWANA faxes that look interesting with a lovely Spanish actress for an unique look while keeping the doll-like imagery in mind.

Hope you enjoy this Raoulstine with my fruit salad Christine and Raoul,As I'm more of an artist of East Asian heritage than a writer on the lived experience of different cultures,it would be nice to collaborate with writers with these lived experiences in helping me in doing these fruit salad gang justice,let me know if interested

Day 4: Feelings

South Asian Christine/Raoul

ID:Raoul of South Asian heritage in his victorian formalwear confess his love to Christine of South Asian heritage wearing undergarments with a duck egg blue hooded cape in the rooftop of the Paris Opera

Anywhere you go, let me go too,Christine, that's all I ask of you

I'll make sure not to proposal my girl in front of the man who is obsessed with her nothing more nothing less

It's nice once in awhile to have a dark chocolate skin tone to be the good guys for once.The lovely Raoul is no other than the restaged tour understudy Michael Maliakel,I also use the setting of Phantom for the background here.I enjoy putting fancy south asian jewellery on this Christine with a traditional braid with blooms

Day 6: Celebration

East Asian Christine/Black Raoul

ID: A floral wreath piece that surrounds Christine of East Asian/Chinese heritage in her victorian wedding dress with elements of the traditional wedding outfit and Raoul of Afro heritage in the victorian formalwear

After the final lair,Christine decide to wear her traditional Chinese wedding look when she get married to Raoul instead of the white dress (well she decided after the experience) of course Raoul don't mind at all,It's lovely to put a part of my heritage inside a Christine and it's something I wish I can watch when I was 15 .This Raoul with my lovely East Asian (Chinese) Christine is the Opera Australia Phantom in the Harbour Callum Francis,This floral wreath that I did is my first foray to watercolour is this watercolour florals that I see in social media and I use the flowers from the Victorian language of flowers for this floral wreath here to represent Raoul and Christine.

Raoulstine Week 2022 Day 5: Family

Another year. Another whole year since Father died. The sun will shine today, Christine can tell by the light airiness of the clouds. She wakes up early to get ready. She dons her favorite dress and her red scarf, and she kisses a still-sleeping Raoul’s hair before leaving.

She walks to the Perros graveyard, it being too early to get a driver for a carriage. Besides, she likes the fresh air. She always loved to take walks with Father in the mornings, when they would mimic bird calls while the sun rose.

She holds her flower bouquet as gently as she can, though her hands are shaking and all she wants to do is grab it tightly, she’s so scared. Well, scared isn’t exactly the right word, is it? It’s been another year. She can survive without him, and she’s been to his grave before. But sad can’t be the right word either-- sad doesn’t even begin to describe the ache in her heart that will never truly go away, no matter how many years pass.

She kneels by the headstone and leaves the flowers. Daae. A curious name indeed. Father was a curious man. There was no one else like him. Almost always happy, yet deeply bothered by the hardships of others. Almost always playing music, yet spending whole hours in silent thought just after reading the paper. Almost always full of life and laughter, yet suddenly gone.

Still, Christine bets he would be proud of her for making it another year. She no longer relies on her pain. She lives in love instead of in grief. Christine is sure he would be proud of that. He lost her mother before she could even know her. And he still loved with all his heart, telling fond stories of her but never losing sight of his daughter.

Christine is surprised to find she isn’t even crying. How strange. All she feels is numb, and there’s not even much cold to speak of.

She’s numb until she feels a warm hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright, Little Lotte?”

She nods at Raoul, reaching to place her hand on top of his. “That’s the strangeness of it all. I’m not whole, but I’m no longer broken.”

He puts his other hand on her other shoulder. “Because you're strong. Just like he knew you would turn out to be.”

She nods again, and still doesn’t cry. As they sit in silence for the rest of the morning she wonders if part of the reason she is no longer broken is that she has love. Her father moved on from her mother’s loss with the help of his daughter. And she can keep moving on with the help of her forever friend.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, The Phantom of the Opera (TV 1990), Phantom - Susan Kay Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé Characters: Raoul de Chagny, Christine Daaé, Erik | Phantom of the Opera Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort Summary:

Quick little one-shot for Raoulstine Week 2022 Day Three- Hurt.

When Erik frees Christine and Raoul from the opera, the hours that follow are a confusing round of beginning to address the hurts and sorrows they have both just experienced and planning for the future to come.

Raoulstine Week Day 3: Hurt/Comfort

Healing

She is almost asleep. Her breaths come controlled and comfortable, her eyes begin to close.

And then she hears him wake.

It's a gasp, like the wind has been knocked out of him. Or pulled out of him by a noose.

She shoots up and finds him easily in the warm, soft lamplight that had just been dancing behind her eyelids. Although she wishes the Phantom well, she doesn't particularly care for the dark of night anymore, and neither does Raoul.

“It's alright, darling. I'm here. I'm here,” she whispers as she takes his hands in hers. A swallow gets stuck in her throat-- they are trembling and slick with sweat.

“Christine, I--” She sees him come back to reality, sees the change in his eyes as he realizes he is not in the lair.

“It's alright, Raoul.” She gently brings his hand up to her face and rubs his knuckles on her cheek. “I'm right here, you see? I'm safe. And so are you.”

He sighs deeply, then leans in, asking for a kiss. She smiles and answers, and when they part, his features are calmer, softer somehow. She sees more of the boy who ran into the sea for her scarf than the man who crossed the lake to save her life.

They stay silent, but he holds her. She looks down at their intertwined fingers on the sheets, then his arms. Her gaze travels up to meet his eyes, or perhaps his lips again.

But before she can get there she sees it.

It is all too visible, even in only the lamplight. Her heart almost stops.

“Raoul, your neck!” she gasps. He looks perplexed for a moment. Then something crosses his face she can't quite place. Embarrassment, she thinks.

But she does not understand why he would feel embarrassed of the bruises.

She wonders how she didn't notice them before-- angry and deep red in a thick, blotchy circle around his throat. The kind of bruises that turn purple later, and swell larger and get much worse before they get better.

He won't look her in the eyes, but assures the covers instead. “It doesn't hurt, Christine. It truly doesn't--”

But she has already reached up to probe one of the welts, and as soon as she presses-- with a kind, venturing touch, of course-- he sucks a sharp breath in through his teeth and yanks his head away to the side.

“Be honest with me, Raoul. Please,” she says. His gaze flicks to her and he nods, almost shyly.

“I-- I know.”

Christine doesn't hug him close like she so desperately wants to. She gives him his necessary space for a few minutes. Sitting in the silence with him until he slides back next to her. He puts a strong arm around her shoulders, and she lays her head on his chest so she can feel the rise and fall. He is trying his best to take long, deep breaths.

“You are my hero, Raoul,” she tells him then. The way his chest muscles contract and his deep breaths falter, she knows he doesn't entirely agree. But he does not object to her statement.

Christine can't help but stare at his neck. A weight settles on top of her, because even though her mind is certain it was the Phantom who gave him those awful marks, her soul convinces her to take the blame. Raoul seems to know her so well that in that instant he cuddles her closer, making the thoughts grow faint. She reminds herself that he does not fault her for what happened. He is rational in that regard.

She looks at his neck once again, and after careful consideration tilts her chin upwards. Ever so slowly, she plants a kiss on one of the bruises. She makes sure to brush her lips against him so softly he does not flinch. Rather, he relaxes into her. She kisses him again, and again after that. She takes her sweet time, giving special care to each bit of his collar. His quiet exhalation is one of relief.

“I love you more than anything, Christine,” he murmurs into her hair.

At last, his voice is tinged with a peaceful drowsiness.

She smiles sadly. “I know, Raoul. I know.” She knows all too well.

She continues to soothe him, and soothe herself with the kisses, as he drifts off. Soon afterwards she sleeps, deeply.

And she's sure that just like the bruises, they will heal.

Raoulstine Week Day 2: First Date (Sort Of)

Raoul sped to the cloakroom for his hat. The quicker he went, the better. Two minutes-- he and Christine. Just like old times. Talking with her in her dressing room stripped away the Vicomte de Chagny, and with her he became the gawkish boy he'd once been. Except now everything was different. He'd always loved her, but seeing her sing that night…something had changed. Now she was a woman, and she was stunning. Now he was a man, and he couldn't deny that he was smitten. Suddenly he was a man and a boy all at once, and all he was certain of was that he couldn't wait to have dinner with Christine.

He jogged up to the door again, his heart still pounding from when he'd first seen her that night. Now it would be he and Christine, laughing and talking--

Someone was speaking. A man. A man’s voice filled the dressing room.

“Whose is that voice? Who is that in there?” He rapped on the door with much more force than he should have, but he didn't care. When there was no answer save for the muffled words of some man calling himself an angel, he thrust open the door.

Of course he was too late. Both angels were gone. But how? He glanced around. They hadn't left through the door, and there were no other avenues of escape in the room. What if Christine wasn't safe? They had planned to go out, and all of a sudden she was gone without a trace. What if her leaving wasn't willing?

The problem was that he had no clue. All he was certain of was that he would try his hardest to find out what had happened to her.

I didn't think I had ever written anything Raoulstine but a friend reminded me that I had - Ankou - and then I remembered that when I wrote the first chapter, I almost made myself CRY with the sadness of the doomed and tragic love between Raoul and Christine. Your may not cry. I think I was just having an overly dramatic day.

So here's my contribution to Raoulstine Week 2022:

Ankou - rated Mature, 11.5k words, 3 chapters, AO3.

I don’t really have anything new for Raoulstine Week, but I have compiled a list of Raoulstine oneshots I’ve written in the past.

The Morning After- Christine wakes up in the de Chagny mansion the day after the Final Lair. Written as part of my touch prompts series. G, 311 words.

To the Rooftop- Christine’s thoughts on the rooftop of the Palais Garnier. Also written as part of my touch prompts series. G, 308 words.

A Secret Engagement- Raoul proposes to Christine during a Christmas celebration. Originally written for the advent calendar. G, 771 words.

A New Day- Raoul and Christine spend the night in the towers of the Notre Dame after the chandelier crash. Written for Raoulstine week last year. G, 410 words.

And tangentially related since it is E/C/R but does have some tender moments between Raoul and Christine, A New Life- The final lair ends much differently. Written for Queer Week 2022. G, 453 words.