raoul photo

anonymous asked:

Goodness, Au clair de la lune! It's the most mesmerizing and soothing children song ever! Now I can't help but picture Pierrot narrating the story. And even better, imagine TC,Raoul and Christine as Commedia dell'arte actors, all dressed up. Actually, I can't picture wich of them would make the best Pierrot. Like, Christine has the slightly saddish spooky aesthetic, Raoul is the most precious melancholic Pierrot, and TC is the pining depressed Pierrot. Love Fantomestein too much for my own good

Awwweee thank you! I have been itching to draw more Pierrots (and inevitable Fantomestein!Pierrots especially after TC called Raoul a Pierrot in the comic akdhf).  I think they would all make cute pierrots, and I have been wanting to sketch Raoul/Pierrot, Christine/Columbine, and…TC/Harlequin…

I haven’t sketched for “fun” in so long good gravy


Raoul: Christine dear I hurried over to tell you that I love you.

Christine: Again?

Raoul: I still do.

                          - The Phantom of The Opera (1943)


Rally Racing 101 ft. Raoul ÇaRoule | Canyonlands National Park, Utah

Fun fact, in that first shot I initially had Cruz and Lightning lined up neck-and-neck as they traversed the uneven terrain, but then Lightning decided to BARREL ROLL himself into the lead. So I was just like… you know what, buddy, A for effort, I’m gonna go ahead and give it to you.

To date, Lightning remains the only die-cast that has taken it upon himself to drive off multiple cliffs. It’s a good thing I have two of him, because this one is getting beat to all hell. XD

Also, Raoul is having the time of his little die-cast LIFE. 


Hadley Fraser: a Timeline
1. 2001 - 2002 Les Miserables, Marius Pontmercy
2. 2005 The Far Pavilions, Ashton Pelham-Martyn
3. 2006 Doctor Who, Gareth
4. 2006 - 2007 The Pirate Queen, Tiernan
5. 2009 - 2010 The Fresh Beat Band, Reed
6. 2010 Les Miserables: 25th anniversary concert, Grantaire
7. 2011 The Phantom of the Opera: 25th anniversary concert, Raoul de Chagny
8. 2012 Les Miserables: 2012 Film, National Guardsman
9. 2013 - 2014 Coriolanus, Tullus Aufidius
10. 2014 - 2015 City of Angels, Stine

All I Ask of You - Peter Parker

Your name: submit What is this?

I was just studying literature. At the moment, it was The Aenid. I had my pencil, my ruler and my book on my bed as I underlined a few words and annotated on the margins of the pages. The book I had was a family heirloom. It had a collection of different handwriting and inks on the margins. It was my grandad’s, then my father’s, then now, mine.

My father died when I was younger. He worked as a profiler with the FBI. He was working a case, but while he was doing a negotiation, he was killed.

I remember the way he looked at me before he’d go to work. He’d look at me each time like it was the last time he would ever see me, and he’d talk to me like all of his words could be his last. Of course, when he’d do it, he’d always come home safely except for the one time he didn’t.

He was sitting at the table, drinking his coffee. I was late for rehearsals, so I grabbed my lunch box and kissed his cheek with a simple, “See you later, dad,” to which he replied with, “See you later, darling.”

I remember that that night I was a bit bitter and angry at him because he didn’t watch my show. I didn’t know that he was on a case, let alone dead. I didn’t realise until I had gone home and saw that we had voicemail.

My mother wasn’t around at the time, so I listened to it, completely oblivious to what was on the answering machine.

And there were his last words.

There was a tapping on my window, breaking me from my thoughts and tearing my gaze from the book. I had expected to see Peter in his suit, but instead, I saw Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit. Confused, I got up, putting up a coat. I opened the window.

“Y/N,” Tony began, his voice filled with urgency and panicked.

“What happened?” I asked him.

“It’s Peter, I… we need your help. He’s in danger,” he told me. My face paled and my eyes widened slightly at his announcement. “The… His captor… he won’t let him go. Says he wants to talk to F/N’s daughter. Payback, he said.”

“I don’t understand. My father was a profiler. He was a hero, sure, but he wasn’t any superhero like you guys. How could he possibly know my father?”

“I don’t know, but he won’t let Peter go until he talks to you,” Tony answered truthfully. I bit the inside of my cheek and looked away. “It won’t be safe. At all. Peter wouldn’t want you to do this, and I don’t think your father would either.” I looked at my book.

“I’ll… I’ll come with you.”

“Are you sure?” Tony eyed me. I inhaled shakily and nodded. I rand my hand through my hair.

“Yes. I’ll just… I need to do something.” Tony nodded.

I walked out of my room and walked to my mother’s room. Beer bottles were scattered everywhere, on the floor, on her table… I bit my lip. She didn’t take my father’s death very well. After he died, she turned to drinking. She was unconscious, sprawled out on the bed. I walked to her and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered before leaving. I met with Tony on my fire escape and he lifted me up, beginning to fly me to where Peter was.

Peter, I decided, had saved enough people. Everybody needed saving now and then, and I would gladly save him, even if it meant my own death, I would save him. It was the person I had been taught to be—to save people. No matter who it was, I was taught to be kind and to help. I had been taught to be good.

Tony had put me down in a meadow. We weren’t in the city of New York, well, we were, but more on the outskirts—the generally empty area of New York. The place nobody went to.

I recognised the place I was in—it was the same place I went on my first date with Peter. It was an impromptu sort of thing, or so I thought. I had had a bad day at school and Peter insisted on taking me out. When we arrived, I saw the a checkered red blanket on the grass with a picnic basket on it.

I was laughing because he had put his hands in front of my eyes, and I had tripped over my own feet and he caught me before I could even hit the ground, which put us in a rather… compromising position, so to speak. He pulled me back up and he turned me toward the picnic space. I gasped and I kissed his cheek, making his cheeks turn into the colour of rubies.

The sight I was looking at now wasn’t nearly as nice.

In the same place a blanket was, a man in a red suit stood, similar to Tony’s but much more slender. He held onto Peter by his shoulder, who was in his suit, but his mask was in his hands and I could see a gash on his cheek and a black eye. Peter, who looked up at me and widened his eyes, gasped ever so softly, and I’m sure I did too when I saw his injuries.

“Y/N… What… what are you doing here?” Peter asked me.

I glanced at Tony, who stood behind me, before looking back at the brown-eyed boy. I ignored his questions and looked at the face of the man behind him. The man had a smug smirk on his face, and he looked familiar, but I didn’t know where I had previously seen him. “You called?” I rose an eyebrow at him.

“Do you not remember me?” He asked, stepping forward along with Peter, who stumbled at the movement. Finally, as he stepped into the light, I could see his face more clearly.

“Mr. Raoul?” I furrowed my eyebrows. I recognised him, finally. He was my old director. He was practically my second father at the time. He helped me grieve over my father’s death when I returned to school.

“That’s right, Y/N. You know, I always liked you. So clever,” he smirked. “Now, the deal’s simple: you come to me, and I’ll let go of lover boy here.”

“Y/N, don’t,” Peter told me.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked the director, who shrugged.

“I thought I’d finish the job,” said Raoul, who took a phone out of his suit’s compartment. He threw it at the ground in front of me. I bent down, eyeing Raoul suspiciously as I took the phone. I pressed its power button and I saw a photo of me as a kid.

It was one of my first Halloweens. I was dressed as Belle, the Disney Princess. “I… I don’t understand,” I murmured, voicing my thoughts. Raoul wouldn’t have this photo. It wasn’t online or anything. It wasn’t even in our family photo albums… the only person who had this photo was my father. I unlocked the phone with ease, seeing as there was no passcode.

“Check it’s calls,” Raoul advised. I looked up at the villain, tears welling up in my eyes, but I glared nonetheless.

“Y/N, what is it?” Peter asked me. My grasp on the phone tightened and my jaw locked the longer I looked on the villain. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I broke my gaze away from Raoul and turned my head ever so slightly.

“What’s on it?” Tony whispered. I looked at Raoul again, who kept his smirk, before handing Tony the phone. “Oh my god,” he muttered when he saw the lock screen.

Christine, Christine, don’t think that I don’t care, but every hope and every prayer rests on you now, I remembered the lyric from The Phantom of the Opera. My dad sang it all the time.

“Do you remember being Christine?” Raoul asked me. “You were a fantastic Christine for a fourteen year old.” I glared at him. “Could you see how similar your predicaments are?” He asked, “You can’t refuse; you have no choice.”

He was right, but like hell was I going to say that.

“Why?” I asked him, “Why my father?”

“He was onto me. He knew about the murders around town and my connection to them and well, your Angel of Music couldn’t just disappear, could he?” He asked. I fought every fibre in my body to stop myself from slapping him.

“You’re no angel,” I growled.

“But I was,” Raoul’s gaze turned into one of insanity and evil. “You see, I was your angel, Y/N. You’d be nothing if not for me!” I bit my lip, stopping myself from fighting and yelling.

“Let Parker go,” I told him.

“Come with me and I will.”

“Y/N,” Peter’s voice called softly. I looked at the wounded hero. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Peter,” I apologised, my voice softening for the first time since I had arrived. I began to walk closer to the villain, who pushed Peter forward, making him stumble. Peter met me halfway, his hands tied in front of him. I untied him and freed him and I pulled him into a hug, burying my face in his shoulder. I allowed tears to spill from my eyes, but I wouldn’t make a sound. “I love you,” I whispered. “I love you so much, don’t forget.” He held me tightly and I could feel him shake. I leaned back slightly and put my cupped his cheeks with my hands. “Don’t think that I don’t care, but the people need you, Peter.”

“But I need you,” he whispered, meeting my eyes. Tears began to spill from his eyes, and I’m sure tears were flowing out of mine. I closed my eyes and got on my toes and I kissed his forehead. I let my lips linger there for a moment before pulling away again.

“You have me, Peter. You always will,” I assured him, “And you’ll move on,” he shook his head while I nodded, “Yes, you will. You will.”

“No, I won’t. Y/N, I need you, please…”

“Everyone needs to be saved sometimes, Peter. Even the heroes. Especially the heroes,” I assured him. “Every waking moment of every day, I will love you and I will always be with you. I promise you that. Let me be your freedom, Peter,” I whispered, hugging him again. “I need to do this.”

“Please,” he choked out.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, pulling away from him in a swift motion. I walked to Raoul, who smiled at me. When I arrived to him, I turned to face Tony and Peter.

“We’ll come for you, Y/N. I promise,” Peter told me. I smiled softly at him before Raoul stated;

“I wouldn’t be sure of that if I were you.” With that, he threw down a smoke bomb and took me away. I closed my eyes, not wanting to open them because I knew I’d only start to cry even more.

As I was taken away, I thought of Peter.

Anywhere you go, let me go too.

Love me, that’s all I ask of you.

Johnny Depp responds to Hunter S. Thompson’s criticisms about Johnny’s test photos as Raoul Duke. Hunter told him that the way he was standing was wrong, his ears were wrong, the eyes were wrong, the glasses were wrong, and that nothing was right. Johnny sent the above fax and this letter back:

July 29, 1997


Please know that I am not in any way number one, trying to make an ass of you in the film; number two, turn you into some over-the-top caricature; number three, fuck you over in some kind of cartoon-y way; number four, treat this material like an episode of The Red Skeleton Show; or number five, disappoint you or anything close to any of these things.

I am doing my best to combine pieces of you; the you of today that I’ve gotten to know, the you that I’ve studied from some older video material, and the character from the book, Raoul Duke.

We are at the beginning of this hideous ride and things are just starting to take shape – only starting. So don’t freak out. Give it and me a chance. The wardrobe is not where it needs to be yet and I want your help with it. Fuckin’ eh. Understand that I am not a scumbag, and that all I want outta this thing is for you to proud of the work and the film. Nobody’s getting fucking rich here, believe me. I am an actor and can only do what I can do. I am not, and cannot be you, but I can come pretty fucking close, and will. This is MY work. If you remember back about a year or so ago, I asked you if you were sure that I should be the actor to play you in the film. Your reply was ‘Yes.’ Well, it was at that point that I told you that if I was able to do it properly, and did a remotely good or accurate portrayal, that you most likely would hate me for the rest of your life. That is the risk I run here and okay fine, I’ll deal with that. But don’t ever think that you can throw a bunch of shit at me, and expect that I’ll eat it. You’ve got the wrong boy in this case. I respect, and admire you greatly, and hold our friendship in very high regard. But don’t treat me as if I were a weaker animal, because I will surprise you. Your work is yours, my work is mine. We need to remember that.

Call, or write, or not.

Yours in love and war,

The Colonel (x)