#so much happened in the double session extravaganza but this was towards the end and made me laugh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nickireadstfc · 7 years

Text

The Raven King, Chapter 9 – Spooky Scary Bonding Times Send Shivers Down Your Spine

In which the monsters go costume shopping, Neil forces everyone to have Fun Squad Hangs, we learn Things™ about Matt and I start to realize Andrew cares about 24601% more than he’s trying to show.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Raven King.

Finally, the much needed breather chapter is here – it’s Halloween!

Our monster squad takes this as an opportunity to go hang out at everyone’s favourite Fun Drugs Party joint, commonly known as Eden’s Twilight. Before they can go, though, Nicky makes me relate to him yet again by doing something I’ve been doing for years – pressuring all my friends into Halloween costumes.

(And carnival, and cosplay, in my case.)

“You wouldn’t trust me to pick out your costume, would you? I’d probably make you a French maid or something.”

Except you’ve kind of picked out outfits for him in the past, for y’all’s club adventures, and you always picked clothes you thought he looked super hot in?

So basically, what this is trying to tell us is that Nicky has a drag kink.

Nice.

An animatronics raven flapped its wings and cawed at Neil as he approached. He pushed it to the back of the shelf and moved a glittery Styrofoam skull in front of it.

Bahahaha. This is such a tiny detail, but I love it.

You can never escape the ravens, Neil. N E V E R.

“People don’t really wear these, do they?” Neil asked and (…) pulled the next one off the rack. It was a milk carton with a cutout for the wearer’s face and a bold “Have you seen me?” printed beneath it.

“Oh, that’s perfect, Neil,” Andrew said. Neil sent him a dirty look.

PLEASE TELL ME THERE IS FANART OF THIS. I am in tears.

And next: Neil, my boy, my dude, my son – does this.

“We should invite the others to come with us,” Neil said.

FUCK. YEAH.

Neil starting to bring the team together!!! Everyone slowly bonding and becoming friends!!!!!! It’s the fuck happening!!!!!

I am so, so beyond here for this, have I mentioned that already?

“We need them,” Neil said, keeping his eyes on Andrew. “Talent alone won’t get us to semifinals. (…) You have to stop breaking this team in half.”

YOU TELL EM, MA BOY.

“I’m not asking you to be their friend,” Neil said. “I’m asking you to give an inch.”

“Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile,” Aaron said.

“You really think they’re strong enough to take a mile from Andrew? You think he’d let them?”

My dude has a point.

My dude has all the points, in fact.

GET YOUR ASSES TOGETHER EVERYONE, ALRIGHT.

Nicky, however, raises the fair argument of how they treated Matt last year, yet when Neil asks how exactly they treated Matt last year, Andrew tells him to ask the dude in question – and also agrees to let the rest of the Foxes join their Halloween extravaganza, which surprises everyone so much it ends the conversation.

Well. Best to tell Dan and the squad the good news immediately, no?

Dan stepped out into the hall with [Neil] and pulled the door closed behind her. (…) “We’ve got a visitor. He came by a little while ago looking for Andrew.

(…) This is Officer Higgins of the Oakland PD.”

Weeeeeeell shit. I knew that dubios phonecall thing was going to come around again.

Neil heard the doorknob creak in warning as Andrew twisted it further than it was meant to go. It was a startling giveaway considering Andrew’s wide smile and the breezy tone of his voice.

“Oh, I must be imagining things. Pig Higgins, you are a very, very long way from home.”

I knew it. That whole affair stinks. Andrew is not nearly as cool and chill about this whole situation as he pretends to be.

What is happening, I’m so intrigued by this.

“We were looking at the wrong person, weren’t we? (…) The other kids won’t speak up. They don’t trust me that much. You’re all I’ve got.”

That got Andrew’s attention. “Kids? Kids, plural. You only mentioned one last time, Pig. How many has she had?”

She? We were talking about one of his foster fathers last time – but Higgins said they looked in the wrong place.

A foster mother, then? And a fair amount of child abuse, as it seems. Once a-fucking-gain.

“How many kids, Pig?”

“Six, since you,” Higgins said.

Six instances of child abuse, then, probably seven including Andrew.

Hell to the fucking no. Andrew, you stubborn shit, help those kids.

Also, apparently the foster mom’s name is Drake. Probably a family name. Will keep that in mind.

After that conversation, Higgins leaves again before we can get any more interesting information. Ughhhh. Why must there be suspense, I need to know now.

“Why are the police looking for you?”

Andrew tilted his body towards her and smiled into her face. “I’m in no trouble, oh captain my captain.”

Alright, first he references Les Misérables and now Dead Poets’ Society – Andrew, stop being a goddamn nerd. <3

Neil then goes to do what he came to do in the first place, which is informing the squad of their incredibly luck of getting to hang out with the monsters on Halloween.

It goes about as expected – meaning, everyone’s mind as blown.

“How the hell did you talk Andrew into this?” Dan asked, staring at Neil.

“I asked,” Neil said.

Genius. Amazing. How has nobody had this idea before.

“He implied you were the harder party to convince,” Neil said.

Oh, yeah.

MATT BACKSTORY TIME, BABES.

Let me sum this up for you. Matt’s dad – asshole extraordinaire – got him into drugs, as he wanted his son to fit in with the rich kid party scene in New York. Matt tried getting clean, but was a wreck when he arrived at PSU, hiding from any party people who might tempt him again by camping out on the girls’ couch – which, might I add, is an adorable picture, no matter how angsty.

Andrew ‘King of Unorthodox Helping Methods’ Minyard saw how fucked up Matt was and promptly gave him speedballs INSERT WIKIPEDIA HERE, which are about one of the most fucked-up drugs you can have (it’s cocaine and heroin together and it kills people on the regular. Fun!). But plot twist! Turns out Andrew had done everything with Mommy Boyd’s permission and his plan succeeded in bringing Matt into rehab and back into a normal life.

I have………… so many questions. Also, respect for Andrew. Also, what the fuck??

Also, MATT MY SON LET ME PROTECT YOU WHAT THE HELL. <333

“I don’t know if they’ve talked to you about Aaron’s history, but you understand Andrew’s, don’t you? He’s not allowed to fight his addiction. Watching Matt struggle was very hard on them both.” (…)

Andrew said they’d picked up the [cracker dust] habit for Aaron’s sake. (…) Chances were cracker dust was a paltry substitute. Watch Matt crumble under temptation would have wrecked hell on Aaron’s own sobriety.

Neil was starting to rethink how apathetic Andrew was about Aaron’s life.

Are you telling me Andrew got them all into cracker dust just to protect Aaron while he worked on getting Matt clean?

And you’re telling me Andrew doesn’t care about anyone or anything?

Bull-fucking-shit.

Andrew, you seriously have so many problems and you are so problematic like 80% of the time but dude – I love you.

“What’d you guys get [for costumes], so we don’t double up on anything?”

“I’ll ask. I’m hoping Nicky was joking,” Neil said, getting to his feet. (…)

It turned out Nicky wasn’t joking, but at least a zombie cowboy was better than a milk carton or a cow.

NEIL THE ZOMBIE COWBOY.

Again, please tell me there is fanart of this. I NEED IT.

And before you know it – it’s Fun Bonding Party time!

Apparently, ‘party’ means a few hours of the most awkward social interaction ever – Aaron refusing to talk to anyone except his family, Andrew being annoyingly energetic and rude, and Nicky trying to make up for his asshole cousins by talking So Damn Much – but you know, it’s a start.

Kevin shifted in his seat enough to pull his hand in his pocket. The rattle of pills against plastic was so soft Neil might not have noticed it if not for Andrew’s reaction. (…)

“Don’t make me hurt you,” Andrew said. “I don’t want blood in my ice cream.”

Ah yes, thanks, I had momentarily forgotten how EXTRA Andrew is.

Kevin also finally solves the question of why he has Andrew’s pills when Andrew off his meds – it ensures Andrew won’t take them in the first flash of withdrawal. Alright. I would have expected some bigger explanation for some reason? Idk. Maybe there’s more here, maybe I’m just seeing things.

Onwards to more fun things – Betsy makes a surprise reappearance via text!

“Just Bee!” Andrew said. “Bee being stupid. Bee being, ha. Look.”

Andrew tossed Nicky his phone. Nicky took one look at the screen, laughed, and reached across Aaron to show Neil the phone. (…) It was a grainy picture of Betsy Dobson wearing a bee costume.

What level of PRECIOUS. I love this woman.

It turns out Andrew and Betsy are texting BFFs, which is something I absolutely did not see coming.

Apparently, Andrew likes her considerably more than Neil does.

“Andrew goes through shrinks like he’s trying to break a world record only he knows about. She’s his eighth one at least.”

“Thirteenth,” Andrew said. “She made sure to ask me if I was superstitious.”

Uhmmm precious.

“Some insane number. But when Andrew waltzed ut of her office at the end of his first session with her she was right on his heels and completely unfazed. Pretty impressive, right?”

“No,” Neil said.

Nicky sighed. “Eat your ice cream, jerk.”

Eat your ice cream and learn to start appreciating Bee Dobson for the gift to Foxkind that she is, jerk.

Time for a change in scenery – from Fun Ice Cream Times to Fun Club Times!

Seriously, this club does not get any less suspicious to me. I resent every time they go there. That first night has me pretty much scarred for life and I wasn’t even the one who was drugged and kiss-raped. How Neil is so ‘meh’ about going there again all the time is beyond me.

Then again, ‘meh’ just about describes Neil’s attitude towards most things that aren’t Exy or survival. So there’s that.

When they arrive, Dan – understandably – raises the question of whether or not it’s safe to let Andrew be clean for a night, to which Nicky has to say some things.

“Trust me, you’d know if he was clean. It’s, uh… (…) it’s unmistakable. You’ll see next summer whether you want to or not. He’s off his program in May and should finish rehab by the time we start June practices.”

This is the point where I wonder how long the AFTG books will stretch, time-wise. The first book started in May and ended in August, the second started in August and we’re now – halfway through the book – in November. If we keep up this pace, TRK should be finished around January/February and TKM should end just in June – meaning we will see Andrew off his meds probably?

HECK YES.

10 bucks says Andrew has to come off them for some reason earlier anyways. Don’t ask why. It just feels like it should happen, for suspense reasons or something.

And once everyone is settled in the club, most of them go dancing, having fun, doing normal people stuff – except for our favourite antisocial ‘Help I don’t know how to human’ dudes, who once more engage in an unexpected heart-to-heart.

“I’ve never been in a position where I could get to know people,” [Neil said.] “I know I have to let them in if we’re going to make it through the season, but it’d be easier if they were just names and faces. How have you stayed disconnected for so long?”

“They’re not interesting enough to keep my attention.”

Yeah, hi, this is Nicki speaking, is FUCKING BULLSHIT there, I’d like to call them?

Seriously. As if.

“What about Renee?”

“What about her?”

“She’s not interesting?”

“She’s useful.”

“That’s it?”

“You expected a different answer?”

Is Neil trying to slowly find out whether Andrew like-likes Renee or not because that may be a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Also, “she’s useful” for fuck’s sake, stop blowing holes in my platonic goalie BFFs ship.

“Yes? No? It should be – it is – irrelevant, but…” (…)

“Sometimes you’re interesting enough to keep around. Other times you’re so astoundingly stupid I can barely stand the sight of you.”

I’m interpreting that statement as either:

1) I’m gay, you fuckwit (most likely)

2) I’m interested in you, you fuckwit (probably not likely at this point in the story, not yet)

3) I’m ace and could really give less fucks about this whole dating shit, you fuckwit (an enjoyable headcanon, but unlikely as we know that Andreil is #endgame)

Neil scowled at him. “Forget it. I’ll ask Renee.”

“You’ll have to stop avoiding her first.”

Yes, please do. Preferably immediately, next chapter, get on it, chop chop.

I need more Renee content always.

[Neil] went alone to the railing overlooking the dance floor. (…) He had to trust that they were all there, safe and having fun. He was content to watch and imagine.

Lonely, too, but there was nothing he could do about that.

Except for, y’know……… Making friends…….. Having them teach you healthy social relationships…….. A wild concept, I know, but just consider it………….

Deep sigh.

If you like what I do here and you want to help me continue writing, please consider buying me a coffee! Thank you so much <3

#nicki reads tfc #tfc #trk #aftg #the raven king #the foxhole court #all for the game #nora sakavic #I'm a day late because I was busy yesterday wheeeee! soz #//hurls chapter @ you and leaves in a swoosh of cape

101 notes · View notes

veraverorum · 7 years

Note

You've been visited by the OTP AU fairy Challenge! If you feel up to it, write 500 or less words for your OTP in any AU setting! Hard mode: choose up to 3 different OTP AU settings and write 500 words or less for each! Good luck! (feel free to become the next fairy and offer some writers your own challenge, too!)

I got this message more than 1 moth ago but I’ve finally finished them!Ready for some musical AUs?

Phantom of the OperaThe lock of the door gotturned but Jack didn't notice it. He was too busy changing intosomething more comfortable than stage clothes, deciding in the endfor a white gown with laces at the hems.The oddity of thesituation hit him when he entered the waiting room of his dressingroom and suddenly all the candles turned off as if by magic.Hetold himself he wouldn't act scared. Jack had always been brave,since the day he had been left all alone in the world, orphan of theomnic crisis. Hesitating for a brief moment he looked around,checking for a possible intruder. One could never know, given thetimes. Not to mention Jack was steadily becoming the new star of theopera. Everything could be possible, even the worst possibility.Thevoice that broke the tense silence put Jack's nerves to rest.Uponrecognizing who was speaking, he relaxed immediately. Jackhad no face nor a proper name to associate with the entity but thedeep voice that had spent so much excruciating time coaching himthrough arpeggios and melodies was his Angel of music. An obscureentity who followed him ever since the day he put foot inside theOpéra Garnier and who Jack believed was a messenger from hisdeceased father.It called to him with his tenor tone, warmingits way into Jack's heart even if it stung of jealousy andpossessiveness, “ignorant fool this brave young suitor, sharing inmy triumph!”Jack had to hide hissmile at being somehow coveted that way but more important matterswhere at hand, like his musical education. Sweet-talking the Angelout oh his outbursts was something that Jack had long since grownused to do. He had a demanding nature, prone to tantrums that seemedto be placated only by Jack's angelic voice hitting the right notesof a soft melody – the kind that stole hearts and tears at the sametime.Maybe, though, thistime the ghost had felt that his domain over Jack was beingthreatened, undermined enough that he wanted to re-assert his powerover the singer once and for all. Jack was slipping from between hisfingers, captivated by the spell of an admirer who had nothing tooffer other than the funds that surely were not coming from the hardwork. Certainly not someone who deserved him.If the ghostliving in the basement of the Opéra wanted to keep Jack close to himhe needed to offer him something more valuable than vile money, orhis expertise on singing. He needed toentice him, draw his attention by making him curiousand ensnare Jack in his net. Hismellifluous words had offered him the coveted sight of hisface.Jack followed his beloved voice toward the mirror andinto it, until he came face to face with the man wearing a white halfmask, and then took his hand.

Chicago

Thatsurely wasn't the way that Jack Morrison thought he would becomefamous and end up under the spotlight.He had thought it wouldhappen through a career in cabaret, dancing and singing and lookinglike a delicious candy wrapped in refined, sparkling sequin clothes,and all that jazz.Instead, his audience would get to know himin a very different way... by his bewildered mugshot greeting thereaders of tomorrow's newspapers from the first page, the captioncalling him murderer.But that would be for tomorrow. As fortoday, Jack had been dragged off to jail to wait for his turn at thecourthouse, thrown in together with similarly convictedfelons.There with hims was Gabriel Reyes in all his glory,the latest murderous sensation in town. He was famous for the show heshared with his brother and for killing said brother and his owncheating husband in a blind rage. He had seemed to realize what hehad done only afterward, while washing his hands from all theirblood. There had been no guilt whatsoever.It was too bad thatGabriel's fame was already on the path of decline due to Jack'sunexpected stunt.The world was full of sharks and once Jackhad managed to grab the spotlight for himself, he found it difficultto let go of it, or share, even if Reyes was a true vaudevillain,more than Jack could ever dream of being. A hot one too, worth todance a sweet tango with, but as far as Jack was concerned, it wasnot enough for him to give up on his one chance at popularity.Jackhad done anything he could in order to hold on this opportunity; hescraped together what little money he had and made sure his tale waseven more pathetic, appealing to the masses, fluttering his eyelashesat the paparazzi and lawyers alike.It was that way that AnaAmari, best criminal defense lawyer of the city did her gigs: prettyboys with pretty eyes and sob stories. She was quick to switch fromGabriel's case to Jack's, and her silver tongue was legendary incourt. She spun his account until it became unrecognizable and farfrom the truth. It was self defense! They'd both reached for thepulse rifle!Almost ashamed by his own actions, Jack acceptedtips from Ana that would have been otherwise used in Gabriel's case,making the celebrated actor go ballistic. In the end though,after his own sentence had been lifted, it had been Gabriel the oneto seek Jack out and ask for his help. Cooperation. “You know, mydouble act is still a damn fun time. But to put it on I need apartner.”Double act, double the murderers for double thefame. The vaudeville scene was going to become all theirs. And theinviting smile on Gabriel's face was naughty enough to suggest thatmore would be shared between them than just the profits.Jackaccepted.

Moulin RougeTheroom was the most absurd collection of things Jack had ever had thepleasure of seeing. It should have been a pleasure. Probably. It wasnot.Itwas gaudy, an extravaganza of exotic objects unlike any other, andfar removed from the simple, almost puritan education Jack hadreceived while growing up.Itmade him uneasy, thorn between gawking at the mess or leaving in ahurry.There where reddrapes everywhere, carved panels of gold painted wood, statues ofmonstrous foreign creatures... In the middle of all that opulence,clad in nothing but black satin and lace lingerie clinging to hisstatuesque body stood Mr Gabriel, motionless. Hissmile was a little awkward, too big and unnatural, one hand in theair, the other resting on the inviting curve of his hip.Jackhad to be honest with himself: he would have immediately said yes toanything the actor proposed him, then and there, at that display. Theproblem was, Mr Gabriel seemed to think the same - as soon as Jackstarted explaining the reason why he had been sent to meet up withhim, Mr Gabriel had launched into a series of yips and barks at hiswords, rolling around on the silk sheets of the bed, gripping them inhis beautiful fingers like a lifeline.Uncomfortable at thedisplay due to both a certain sense of decorum that was beingoffended and the fact that he felt a growing attraction at the sightthat he could not deny, Jack tried to not stammer as he reminded MrGabriel that he was there for a private poetry reading session, asper their prior agreement in the ballroom.When Mr Gabrielpulled Jack down on the bed with him, begging for more naughty words,Jack gaped at him like a fish. Was Mr Gabriel a kindred soul, one whotrembled in delight at the beauty of rhymes and poetry? Thehand that sneaked on his inner thigh and the hot mouth latching atthe base of his neck, whereis pulse was beating faster than usual,told Jack a different story. Yeah, no. Big mistake.Thatwasn't what Torbjörnhad sent Jack there for! He said as much to Mr Gabriel and theperformer recoiled at the words.“Torbjörn...You're not the Duke!” Mr Gabriel was both offended and distressed.It would have been comical if he weren't throwing accusing glares atJack, who still found him the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen, evenif he looked murderous at the moment.“I-I am not!” whatmust have happened was becoming clear to him. An even biggermistake.A sharp knock on the door broke the momentary stallbetween the two.“Shit, the Duke!” Mr Gabriel whispered ashis face paled, eyes snapping to the door.Shit indeed, Jackthought.To be posted soon on AO3!

#reaper76 #r76 #Vera's work #all these musicals are kind of old? gosh...#Anonymous

6 notes · View notes