#medda is their mom

[i-politely-disagree]

Y'all I'm trying to write something but uh....I'm not sure how i feel so ima just put a bit on here

(modern au)

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Jack groaned, using the monotonous voice he reserved for scenarios when he knew it would be best not to express emotions “Really, Race? This guy?”

Race glared, tightening his arm around Spot’s shoulders.

 “Yeah. Got a problem?” he challenged.

Kicking one of Race's stray clothes to clear a path, Jack laughed wryly and motioned to Spot. 

“Um..I do…it’s Spot Conlon.” He was trying to keep his cool. To breathe. He knew how easily Race was influenced, He knew how easily Spot could influence. And he knew damn well Race knew who he was dealing with. So why? Why the guy who got suspensions basically weekly, the guy who every idiot in school looked up to simply cause he could land a punch and kick a ball? 

Spot took the staring match between the siblings as his chance to leave, he pulled on his jacket and maneuvered his way out, extra careful not to disturb anything. As soon as the door shut Race spoke up

“Why do you give a shit who I’m dating?” he began to raise his voice “This is the happiest I have been in years. You are not messing this up for me” 

“I give a shit because it’s him!” 

Race’s blood boiled; Jack knew nothing. Nothing about Spot's past, the persona he felt he had to put on, and how he treated people he was close to. Feeling Jack's hand rest softly on his shoulder didn't help. Jack was not on his side.

“Look,” Jack spoke, taking a more gentle approach “I just don't want you getting hurt.”

!!THIS IS NOT COMPLETE!!

#sprace #newsies fanfiction #spot x race #newsies #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #fanfiction #not finished #should i write more? #jack kelly #race and jack are brothers #medda is their mom #modern au

[pealeii]

Happy Mother’s Day to Medda Larkin ❤️

#the mom of all moms #newsies #medda larkin #miss medda larkin

[thefactsofthematter]

having random au thoughts but ballet dancer race is so very special to me… mini fic in the tags lol

#his teacher made him take pre-pointe when he was like 11 because he had weak wobbly ankles but high arches and kept hurting himself #at the end of the year when all the girls had their first pointe fittings he was like wtf :( i want some too after all this work :( #so his mom took him to get fitted for pointe shoes expecting him to try it for a while and then be over it bc boys don’t do pointe #but he LOVED it and it helped his overall dancing SO MUCH #so then he gets to college and leaves his home studio and has this secret skill that he keeps under wraps for a while #until they’re doing this big year end showcase where he needs to choose a variation to perform #and he’s like fuck it. this is my time to stand out. #and he chooses grand pas classique bc of COURSE he has to do the most. if he’s doing this he’s choosing something super difficult #to show off how actually insanely controlled his dancing is and how graceful his lines are… which isn’t always as clear in male variations #and he doesn’t wear a tutu or a tiara bc he doesn’t want this to look like he’s doing drag or making a joke #he finds this gorgeous costume that’s manly but beautiful and suits him just right and he goes out there en pointe and crushes it #but yeah idk he goes from so nervous to just. fuckin validated and overjoyed as soon as ge hits the end pose and everyone starts cheering #or like all his friends start screaming during the quick piqué turns at the end and he’s never been happier #and his first teacher is probably there (maybe it’s medda) and god it was worth it to make him try something weird when he was little #bc look at him now :’)

[behold-the-brave-battalion-17]

Katherine: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him?

Medda: You did WHAT-

Davey: William Snakespeare!

#newsies #newsies musical #katherine plumber #medda larkin #davey jacobs #mom friend duo #newsies incorrect quotes

[jackmkelly]

i wish people treated medda as if she was more than jacks mother figure. yes she is that and yes its beautiful that shes willing to be that for him & the fact that he has that support system & safety net is wonderful HOWEVER, shes also a black woman in 1899 who is successful enough to run her own theatre. shes also a woman who was willing to risk losing her theatre or getting blacklisted because she helped those kids and allowed them to hold a rally in her theatre. (in the book she literally mentions the papers have power over her too. if reviews don’t get published her career is at risk). shes an Incredible and mesmerizing performer who can fill seats nightly. shes probably saved a few of the boweries from ending up on the streets. she lets jack come in and get paid for doing art which he just Enjoys. clearly shes just willing to Help people who heed it. shes an incredibleeee character with an enormous heart and while she does love jack she is so so much more than “jacks mom” :’)))

#newsies #newsies uk #jack kelly #medda larkin #not targeted or anything im just thinking about it #i love her So much #and i love how she loves jack #but she is more than that #and thats really cool :)

[hexmari]

Okay so we all know and love Medda as Jack’s mom.

BUT THINK ABOUT DENTON AS SPOT’S DAD!

#newsies #newsies 1992 #newsies musical #spot conlon #bryan denton #GET THAT BOY A FATHER

[frogmanfae]

Okay so I've seen so so so so so so many fics where David hates physical touch (from everyone but Jack, of course) but hear me out

David Jacobs who wasn't exposed to a lot of physical touch as a kid. He hugged Les, but that was more Les hanging onto him like kids do. He and Sarah went through a phase where one of them decided it was weird and awkward to hug the other and they haven't been able to break the ice yet. His dad isn't in the physical capability to hug him without taking some time to go through a process. His mom hugs him as often as she can but sometimes they all just get swept up in things and it doesn't actually happen very often.

So it's just not something that he thinks about very much. It isn't something that's a part of his daily life. It isn't something that's incredibly important to him one way or the other. He's hesitant about people he doesn't know very well touching him so he thinks he might not like physical touch, but that's actually a normal experience.

And then one day one of his friends hugs him out of nowhere. Maybe he helped Race win a game of poker, he agreed to take a look at one of Buttons's siblings who was really sick to see what kind of medicine might help, he was ranting to Crutchie about something... maybe he had a bad day and swung by the theater to get some quiet and Medda saw how upset he was and just wordlessly opened her arms like she does.

From that moment on, Davey realized he was missing something in his life. He takes every opportunity he can get to hug his friends or his siblings, he bends down to hug his father from his place in his chair he can't get up from too many times in one day, he makes a point to not let business be an excuse to leave his apartment without hugging his mom first, he lays in Albert's lap and mindlessly fiddles with Finch's fingers. He loves physical touch and it's his main love language. It takes a while for him to get comfortable with just doing these things whenever, but it gets to a point where none of the other newsies really pay any mind to it. Even Spot Conlon just keeps on talking when Davey casually holds his hands sometimes.

David Jacobs hating physical touch is overrated, gimme this once in a while.

#this is platonic davey x everyone #i feel strongly about this #i will elaborate if asked #(please ask) #newsies #david jacobs #livesies #davey jacobs #newsies live #92sies #uksies #newsies uk #newsies 1992

[theres-no-escaping-us-pal]

ABOUT THE NEWSIES PRODUCTION I SAW LAST NIGHT!!!

OMG IT WAS SOO GOOD! THE DANCING WAS AWESOME! THE SINGING WAS SO MUCH BETTER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE!!!

MEDDA LOOKED AT ME DURING ‘THAT’S RICH’!!!

WE MADE EYE CONTACT AND I WAS LIP SYNCING AT HER!!

THE CAST WAS SO NICE OMG!!!

THEY WERE IN THE HALL AFTER THE PRODUCTION (as normal with high school productions)

AND ME AND MY FRIEND WERE THE ACTRESS FOR KATHRINE’S FAVORITE AUDIENCE MEMBERS!!!

WE WERE LIP SYNCHING EVERY SONG AND SHE LOVED IT!! SHE WAS SO NICE!!

THE MEDDA’S ACTRESS COMPLIMENTED MY OUTFIT!!! SHE WAS SO SWEET!!

THE DUDE WHO PLAYED JACK WAS REALLY COOL!! HE DID A GREAT JOB!! HE HAD THE EMOTION! HE HAD THE DEPTH!!

THE ACTOR FOR RACE HAS ACTUAL BROADWAY POTENTIAL!! HIS SINGING HIS DANCING HIS ACTING HIS EVERYTHING!! (I might have a small crush on him lol) HE WAS REALLY NICE TOO!!ABD HIS EYES WERE REALT BLUE!! WHICH IS A WEIRD THING TO NOTICE BUT I DID!!

OMG LES WAS SO GOOD!! THEY HAD A GIRL PLAYING HER AND THE SASS WAS REAL AND I WAS HERE FOR IT!!

ONCE AND FOR ALL HAD AMAZING HARMONIES!! IT WAS AWESOME!!

“HEREE THEYY COMEEEE!!” YES RACE!! KILL IT!!!!

IT WAS SO SO SO SO SO SO AMAZING!!!

I’M SO ASKING MY MOM IF I CAN GO BACK NEXT WEEK CAUSE TICKETS ARE ONLY LIKE TEN BUCKS FOR SECOND ROW!!!!

I CAN GIVE MORE DETAILS IF YIU GUYS HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!!!!

#newsies #livesies #newsies brainrot #newsies broadway #davey jacobs #newsies live #i love newsies sm #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #katherine plumber #santa fe #finch #specs #fuck kosa

[artemis-lynn]

hear me out.

DISCLAIMER: this is for 92sies since the livesies Jack & Medea can't be blood for obvious reasons (NOT RACIST)

Jack Kelly is biologically Medda's son.

-He crashes at her place sometimes to escape Snyder and everyone

-Although it pains her, Medda lets her son live as a newsie because she knows he'd only feel restrained if she tried to force him to live the 'normal' lifestyle

-He wants to go to Santa Fe because he believes that's where dreams are made of and he's just not satisfied with NYC.

-He would bring Medda, but he knows she's too attached to her theatre to leave

-No one, save for a few VERY close friends, know that Medda is literally his mom. She had a secret romance with his dad that needs to be hidden so he can't tell many people

#92sies #newsies 1992 #newsies #jack kelly #medda larkson

[the-realest-spot-conlon]

I wanna start a new series following Spot and Jack as brothers on ao3 but I've got a few too many ideas so yall pick one goddammit

#newsies #spot conlon #92sies #racetrack higgins #sprace #jack kelly #davey jacobs

[newsiesheadcanonscusican]

Racetrack Headcanons

He and Albert are 100% best friends (sorry, don't ship Ralbert) and share a single braincell

Stoner. 100%

Medda is his mom too, can't tell me otherwise.

He and Jack have the sweetest sibling relationship known to man and even though they are not blood related, they are truely each-other's chosen family

He is obsessed with Spot. And it is a mutual thing. They are the totally and unequivocally in love with one another. The only reason he didn't go to Brooklyn when Jack was asking the newsies as a whole is because he didn't wanna out their relationship before Spot was ready

If he likes you, he will infodump. It could be about anything but he will do it.

He bites. He will bite you. If he likes you that is. The thought process being, person sweet, sweet = yum, bite if sweet, bite person

Albert and Race cause constant chaos and no one can tell me otherwise

Worries that those in his life (especially Spot, Medda and Jack) aren't proud of him and find him a burden when really he's not

Totally addicted to caffeine and nicotine. Coffee and cigars/cigarettes (or vapes if it was this century) are life

#racetrack higgins #spot conlon #newsies #medda larkin #newsies headcanons #headcanon #albert dasilva #sprace

[i-politely-disagree]

Not The Ones They Love

Modern AU

TW: Swearing? Jack hating spot ig

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Jack groaned, using the monotonous voice he reserved for scenarios when he knew it would be best not to express emotions “Really, Race? This guy?”

Race glared, tightening his arm around Spot’s shoulders.

 “Yeah. Got a problem?” he challenged.

Kicking one of Race's stray clothes to clear a path, Jack laughed wryly and motioned to Spot. 

“Um.. I do…it’s Spot Conlon.” He was trying to keep his cool. To breathe. He knew how easily Race was influenced. He knew how easily Spot could influence. And he knew damn well Race knew who he was dealing with. So why? Why the guy who got suspensions basically weekly, the guy who every idiot in school looked up to simply cause he could land a punch and kick a ball? 

Spot took the staring match between the siblings as his chance to leave. He pulled on his jacket and maneuvered his way out, extra careful not to disturb anything. As soon as the door shut, Race spoke up.

“Why do you give a shit who I’m dating?” he began to raise his voice. "This is the happiest I have been in years. You are not messing this up for me” 

“I give a shit because it’s him!” 

Race’s blood boiled; Jack knew nothing. Nothing about Spot's past, the persona he felt he had to put on, and how he treated people he was close to. Feeling Jack's hand rest softly on his shoulder didn't help. Jack was not on his side.

“Look,” Jack spoke, taking a more gentle approach, “I just don't want you getting hurt.” 

Something snapped inside Race. “Hurt?! You think he would hurt me?!” He yelled in disbelief and anger, thankful for his mother's current absence 

“I didn't sa-” 

“Forget it, Jack! I don't need your approval, I can make my own decisions!” tears of anger and frustration threatened his voice with a crack. He may not have said it, but Race knew he meant it.

Jack backed away, hurt by Race's sudden outburst “... I'm just trying to look out for you..”

He looked more worried as he took step after step closer to the exit

“Hurt people hurt people.” He stated like a mother comforting a 3-year-old. 

He wasn’t trying to be condescending; he was trying to gently back up his disapproval, but all Race's ears picked up on was the tone he could only perceive as Jack pitying him. He avoided eye contact, using his peripheral vision to see his brother closing the door. 

Tears spilled down Race's cheeks, falling off his chin, salty liquid staining the hem of his shirt. He brought his legs to his chest, hugging them tightly against him as if the weight of his body was too much for his mind to hold along with the weight of his emotions. Jack’s judgment fell around him, tiny particles accumulating until he couldn’t move, coating the waterlines of his eyes with dust, and falling into his lungs until he was gasping for clean air. 

He was forever grateful for Jack and how much trouble Jack had gotten him out of, but this was going a bit far. Race’s taste wasn’t that bad. Plus, he wasn’t allowed objections when Jack brought Davey over and he hated feeling somehow inferior because of how much control Jack thought he could have over him.

Race wrapped himself in crumpled sheets, his tears spilling and discolouring patches of his mattress. Tears of frustration, anger, lack of validation and vague fear he resented himself for even thinking of. He knew in his heart Spot loved him, even if they hadn’t used that word yet and he knew he had to trust him, trust in himself and trust Jack had no idea what he was talking about.

Hurt people hurt people, but not the ones they love….right? That‘s how it works, isn’t it? You work through the pain together, ignore how you can't fathom anything long-term with them and you stick it out until Jack has a reason to say ‘I told you so’. Feeling his phone buzz under his fingers and wishing his boyfriend had stayed, Race ignored the outside world. All he did was sit with the emotions until they became familiar so he knew exactly what he was bottling up again.

#newsies #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #spot x race #sprace #my fic #newsies fanfiction #fanfiction #jack kelly #medda is their mom #race and jack are brothers #his phone buzzing was spot asking if everything was okay for anyone wondering (also being kinda offended)

[sl-newsie]

Hat Thief (Jack Kelly x Medda's Daughter)

Hi!! Idk if you’re taking requests (if you aren’t ignore this, but if you are) could you please write a 92sies Jack Kelly x reader? Perhaps the reader is a year younger than him, she’s quite playful and steals his hat, practically forcing him to chase her. Very very fluffy and sweet! Tyy!!!♥️                 Gotcha!

Friendship is a wonderful thing. When two people’s relationship grows so deep, sometimes it feels as if they’re one and the same person. I met Jack Kelly 5 years ago, when mother and I first traveled to New York. My mother, Medda Larkson, became very busy with her theater and didn’t always have time to entertain me. Jack cured that. The minute he first snuck in backstage we’ve been thick as thieves ever since. He’s got his dream of leaving for Santa Fe, and I have my own dream of becoming an actress like my mother. But for now we’ve let our childhoods prosper with a strong friendship connected by fun memories.

“Hey there, Annie!”

Speak of the devil.

“Heya, Jackie.” I turn away from the costume I’m sewing and face the cowboy himself. He’s been growing more lately, especially since he can afford food better since the strike. “How’s the headline today?”

He leans back against the wall and twirls his cowboy hat in his hand. “Was ok, I guess. It was about the new horse at the track. Race luved it! How’s your day been?”

I shrug and gesture to my project. “Been woiking on this for the past two hours. Mom said I can take a break in ten minutes if you wanna do someth’n.”

Jack gets a devilish glint in his eye. After setting his hat down on the vanity, he slinks over to grab my hand and starts pulling me towards the back door.

“Whaddaya say we skip the wait and you can go on a break now? I hear there’s a few boids at the pond. People’re saying they’s flying south for winter, call’n ‘em swans.”

“Jack, I don’t wanna get anodda tell’n off from- Wait. Swans?” My jaw drops. “I’ve only read about them in books!”

“I thought that’d spark your interest!” Jack grins. “So let’s go!”

He drags me behind him while I try to pull the other way. “No, I can’t! I promised I’d have this dress done by supper.”

“Aw, c’mon.” Jack pouts and sticks his lip out. “Don’t leave me alone.”

I scoff and boop his nose with my finger. “You’ll survive for ten minutes.”

I sit back down and return to sewing the dress, while Jack keeps pacing the room.

“I could ask Medda to let you go early,” he suggests.

I stifle a laugh. “Won’t work. Mom’ll have you scrub’n the stage for say’n that. Just because you’re a year older does not mean you are smarter, Mister Kelly!”

The cowboy makes a mock look of surprise and dramatically clutches his heart. “I thought we were on a foist-name basis! I’m scarred!”

Then an idea flickers on in my head. Carefully, I inch closer to the vanity. “Well, we might not be able to go somewhere else to have fun-” I grip Jack’s hat behind me and hold it up to dangle it in the air. “But who says we can’t have fun here?”

Jack’s eyes widen when he sees the hat. “Now now, Annie. Give it back.”

I think for a second. “Nah. I think I’ll keep it!” And with that, I dash out the door and into the backstage corridor.

“Annabelle Larkson, give that back right now!” I hear Jack shout behind me.

“Come and get it, Jackie boy!”

I snake through the curtains and begin climbing the stairs to the catwalk. I’ve explored every inch-a this place since I was a kid, so I know every hidey-hole there is. There’s a tucked away cupboard near the back that’s poifect for right now. Once I’ve crammed myself in, I wait to see if Jack will continue with the chase. He’s not one to disappoint, because he comes panting up the stairs in a few seconds. 

“Alright, Annabelle. You got me! Come on out now.”

Why is this so fun? I struggle to silence my heavy breathing when I see him getting closer through the crack in the door. My heart’s beating faster and faster! But is it because of the thrill of the chase or something else? Jack walks past, and I swear he can hear my racing heart through the thin wooden door separating us. He passes, and seems to have missed me entirely-

“Gotcha!”

The cupboard door swings open and two strong arms grip my dress to pull me out. My reaction is a goilash squeal that rings throughout the empty theater as I struggle to break free.

“Oh no, you ain’t get’n away that easily!” Jack grumbles as he backs me into a wall and starts tickling me.

“No- No! Not fair! No tickling!” I titter.

After a while I stop fighting and Jack ends his tickle revenge, trying to keep a serious face but it keeps slipping into a smile.

“You give in?”

I roll my eyes and turn to face him while he’s still gripping my arms. “You know I ain’t do’n that, Jack.”

His brow furrows and he nods, seeming to think something over. “Alright, let’s make a deal.”

“I’m listening.”

He releases my arms and points to his hat I’m holding. “You give back my hat, but can keep my heart.”

His what? I frown. “Your heart? What’re you-? Oh!”

Jack leans in and presses a soft kiss to my forehead, causing me to strain against the wall in surprise. My hands press against the brick, unsure what to do. I’m speechless.

"You stole my heart too, Annie." When he pulls away and sees my shocked face, Jack starts panicking. “Did I mess up? Are you mad?”

I slowly come to my senses and shake my head. “No, no! You- you read me just fine, Jack. I’s just surprised it took you this long.”

He mirrors my surprise and playfully swats my shoulder. “You luv me too? You mean all this time I could’ve been kiss’n you? I thought you just thought of us as friends!”

I smirk. “So what’s stopping you now?”

He grins and leans in closer. “Not a thing, Annie.”

Friendship is a wonderful thing. When two people’s relationship grows so deep, sometimes it feels as if they’re one and the same person. And that’s exactly how it feels when Jack closes the gap to mesh our lips togedda. A million emotions race through me, and all in all I could never think of any odda guy I’d want to kiss me. It feels right. 

“Just curious,” Jack mumbles through the kiss. “Your mom ain’t gonna kill me for this, right?”

“Hm. No. Then she’d have to hear me complain the rest-a my life. By the way, this is yours.” I flop the cowboy hat on Jack’s head.

He chuckles. “I dunno. I think it looks bedda on you.” Jack brushes his nose against mine and wraps an arm around my waist. 

“Aw, I’m flattered. But what kinda cowboy would you be without your hat, hm?”

@amoreenaflower

Hope this is the fluff you were looking for! ;) 

#newsies #newsies 1992 #newsies musical #newsies broadway #jack kelly #jack kelly newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies x reader #racetrack newsies #racetrack higgins #medda larkson #92sies #christian bale

[agentsnickers]

Since we were talking about this yesterday, here's a NM prompt: Spot's reaction to the situation with Race's parents

It's not even like Spot and Race are particularly close, is the thing.

Race is Jack's friend first and foremost, a year younger than Spot even though they're in the same grade. It's just that Jack is kind of like a star, pulling people into his orbit, and it's hard to be one of his planets without being friends with the other planets, too.

It's just that this would be something Spot cared about whether they're close or not.

He's been meticulously collecting homework for Race in all the classes they share, and the ones he doesn't share with anyone besides. He hasn't been in school a few days, while Crutchie's Uncle Bryan and Medda and Buttons's mom Lydia get everything sorted out for him. But he'll want to catch up when he's back, Spot knows. Once everything's figured out and Race doesn't have to look at that house ever again.

He doesn't deliver the homework himself, though. Hands it off to Jack when he's heading over to the Dentons' after school or gives it to Crutchie directly to pass along. Collecting the work for him feels like the only thing Spot can do to help, but walking into Bryan's house while everything is still so messy feels like overstepping.

He needs to help, though, is the thing.

Everybody in their little group knows the story - hell, half the sophomore and junior classes know the story, at least in fragments - but it's sitting heavy in Spot's chest and he can't stop thinking about it.

Race came out to his parents last week. The conversation ended with Race running out of the house without picking anything else up, without any of his clothes or even his backpack for school, and walking through the steadily darkening streets to Crutchie's house. He'd asked to stay the night.

Bryan offered him a home.

(Did Dana Higgins mean it when she said she didn't consider him her son anymore? Did it matter, when a sixteen-year-old boy showed up on his friend's doorstep for want of anywhere else to go?)

Spot is deeply, deeply furious with Race's parents. Much more so than he really has any right to be. How dare they turn out their only son? Their one and only job in his life is to look out for him, to love him. It would be horrible if it happened to anyone, anywhere, but this is a progressive area, Race's parents never seemed the type, and Race is -

Race is -

How could anyone look at Race, who is clever and silly and shines so bright all the time, and decide that he isn't good enough for them?

It's unthinkable.

And then there's the other thing.

Spot has been the Token Straight Friend in their little group for a while now, but lately he's been wondering whether that's actually true. He dates, but he's not sure he's ever really liked a girl. He dates, but he knows his heart hasn't really been in it. So he's been wondering, poking quietly at his feelings and trying to figure out where they lead. And then Race got kicked out.

And the thing is, Medda would never, ever do that to him. He knows. Not just in the abstract way that they'd all assumed they knew about most of their parents, but concretely. Jack has been out for ages and Medda just keeps asking him to make safe choices. That's it.

He knows that in his house, at least, he'd be safe. But this has been a harsh reminder for all of them that the outside world is less forgiving and less accepting than they'd like it to be.

That's a crisis for another day, the thinks.

Better safe than sorry for now.

("Hey," Race says on his first day back at school, another handful of days later.

"Hey," says Spot, taking in every inch of him and trying not to be too obvious about it. He looks smaller, somehow, but he's smiling. "How're you holding up?"

"Alright," says Race. He catches Spot's wrist, squeezing tightly. "Thanks for the homework."

"Yeah," Spot says. "Any time.")

#newsies #sprace #spot conlon #near miss au #finn writes fic #collision course au #near miss adjacent

[crystallizedtwilight]

Happy Mother’s Day to mama bear Crystal!!!

Awww thank you!! Medda's the real resident mom 🩷 Crystal is the sister who hides you from the cops in her feathers

[lupinblacktheone]

First times chapter 1 - Freshmen

Hello, friends! This is the first chapter of my fic "First times" for the @newsiesminibang24

I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you will enjoy it as well! The artist was @cowboy-caboodles. Check out his amazing art here:

Read it in AO3!

 “And… there”, said Mr. Jacobs, placing the last box on the wooden floor.

         “Thanks, dad.”

         “Have you got everything you need, honey?”, Mrs. Jacobs asked, looking around the room.

         “Let me see… books, clothes, computer, sheets, extra sheets, snack money…”, the young man rubbed his forehead, making his father giggle. “Oh, yeah. Can I have an extra hug?”

         The woman wrapped her son in a bear hug and kissed his cheek. “Take care.”

         “I will.”

         “Can we visit Sarah now, mom?”, Les begged, pulling on the woman’s skirt. 

         After one more hug and kiss, Esther allowed Meyer to bid their son goodbye.

         “If you need anything, just call us, ok?”

         “Alright, dad.”

         As the family left the room, David turned around to start unpacking his clothes. Halfway through the second box, he heard his mother’s voice again.

         “Medda, darling!”

         He rushed to the door, just in time to see her kissing the cheek of the theater star Medda Larkin. Of course renowned journalists and authors Esther and Meyer Jacobs would treat her as an old friend.

Maybe they really are friends, David shrugged. They had reviewed all of her shows, after all.

“Come here, honey”, Esther waved at him. “I want to introduce you.”

Long ago, David had learned to hide his shyness in front of his parents’ acquaintances, posing as the erudite, well-behaved, happy-not-to-be-noticed middle child. And he was glad to play that role, because it allowed Sarah to take on the intellectual discussions and Les to be the life of the room.

This time, the boy wasn’t interested in charming Miss Medda. He’d rather make someone behind the adults burst into laughter instead.  David looked past his mother’s shoulder to find his little brother telling jokes to a young man around David’s age — probably a freshman as well —, his hair covered by a vintage cap and dressed in a blue button-up shirt.

“Well, if you’ll excuse us, we have to pay a visit to our daughter”, said Meyer.

“Send Sarah my regards”, she waved

Of course Medda Larkin knows Sarah, David laughed to himself.

The house where Sarah lived with two other girls was a fifteen-minute drive away from David’s dorm. As soon as Sarah noticed them getting out of the car, she put a box on the floor and jumped into her father’s arms.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? The place is a mess.”

“How could we not come? Today’s David’s moving day”, Esther kissed Sarah’s cheeks.

“That’s the famous David Jacobs?”, said one of Sarah’s roommates, with bright brown hair.

“The one and only”, he showed her a tiny smile as they shook hands.

“We’ll be throwing a party this weekend. Wanna come?”

“I appreciate it, but I have a lot of things to unpack.”

“C’mon, little bro”, Sarah jokingly slapped David’s arm. “I can come over and help you. And besides, parties are mandatory credits for freshmen. Did you know that?”

“Who are you and what have you done to my sister?”, they laughed. “You used to be daddy’s little princess.”

“And you still are momma’s precious boy, I see.”

“Knock it off, you two”, Les demanded, pushing David so he could hug Sarah.

“She’s right, you know”, Meyer whispered in David's ear. “Not about the credits, of course, but socializing at this stage is very important.”

“Dad…”

“I just want to make sure you are well-adjusted to this whole thing.”

“Fine. If that will make you feel better, I can come to the party.”

“That’s my boy.”

With the rest of the family gone, Sarah drove David back to his dorm, advising him to lose the tweed vest to the party.

“Nobody will want to be your friend if you look like a professor.”

“Thank you”, he grunted, forcing the door open. “For the ride and the advice.”

“Anytime”, she winked at him and drove off.

He walked into the building as fast as he could, trying —and failing, to a certain degree — to avoid the annoying drizzle. He climbed the stairs back to his room.

“I have already picked out my bed”, a male voice announced before David could acknowledge his owner.

It was the young man who laughed at Les’ jokes earlier. He had hung his cap and changed the blue shirt for a pair of — apparently very soft — gray pajamas. They met in the middle of the room to shake hands.

“The name is Jack Kelly”, said he, pocketing his hands.

“David Jacobs.”

“Oh, so you are Les’ brother?”

From Sarah’s brother to Les’ brother. What an upgrade.

“I have never done this before. What do we do now?”

“I think we are supposed to become best friends by default.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“So, soon-to-be-best-friend, do you have any plans for the weekend?”, David asked.

Jack’s shoulders went down. “Probably write emails to my friends and draw a little. I’m a bit rusty.”

“I know a place where you’ll find a ton of references.”

Jack showed him a large smile.

“I’ll take my new pencils.”

David sent Sarah a text, just to let her know he had invited his roommate to her party, without giving his brain the time necessary for it to reflect on what was happening.

For the rest of the night, the boys sat in a comfortable silence, with David arranging more of his belongings and Jack sketching — to warm up the muscles for the art classes.

***

“Hey”, Jack said the next morning.

David’s response was a long, heart-felt yawn and a nod.

Jack put on his favorite blue shirt and a pair of jeans. All of his art materials for the day were packed — he even remembered to include some personal favorites along with the recommended list of brushes and paint. Medda had given him a debit card so he could get more supplies and snacks anytime he wanted.

This was his first official day at college and he wouldn’t let anything ruin it, not even a cranky roommate.

As soon as classes started that day, the notice boards of the dorms were flooded by colorful posters inviting freshmen to participate in the most ordinary or exquisite extra-curricular activities, clubs and teams or to join fraternities and sororities. Others, more discreet, announced part-time jobs at restaurants and shops nearby. Jack stopped by it, just to take a look — or so he said. Maybe something interesting would pop up.

“Do you mind giving me a hand?”, said a boy, holding a box full of pamphlets.

“Sure.”

Once he freed himself of that burden,  the boy attached another notice to the board: an invitation for the rugby trials.

“You can take one if you want”, he said, taking the box back. “It’ll be next Wednesday.”

“Thanks”, Jack grabbed a bright red piece of paper.

“I’m Race, by the way.”

“Jack.”

“See ya ‘round”, he waved and walked out of the building.”  

Despite not being late to his first period — art history, what a cliché —, Jack felt the weight of sixty eyes staring him down as he walked by the desks trying to find a free spot. A pink-haired girl dragged some of her stuff, clearing space for him to sit by her side — and protecting her drawing from potential “art thieves” (her words, not mine) in the process.

Everybody around him seemed so… creative and busy. It was almost like he could hear these people’s minds working to create this century’s Starry Night and Jack had nothing more than a few drafts in his sketchbook.

“You are capable of great things”, Medda used to say. “But remember to always run your own race.”

Medda had given Jack all kinds of advice — both as a parent and as an artist —, but that one had always stood out in Jack's brain. Maybe that was because if the world around him was a race, he was definitely losing.

The professor entered the room and the focused students immediately turned their eyes to the white board. Seventeen minutes into the lecture and he had already lost half of his listeners. Most of them were texting, the phones hidden under their desks, like in High School.

When the girl by Jack’s side started to doodle on her notebook — and she was doing a pretty good job on that beach landscape! —, he shook his head, in an effort to regain concentration. Medda worked very hard to find a school with an art program that suited him — not to mention she was paying for his tuition. He would not let her down. He took a deep breath, counted to five, let all the air out through his mouth and grabbed a pencil. Not to draw, but to take notes.

Ninety minutes later, Jack left the room, slightly proud of himself for having sat through such a long class — he would mention it in his next email to Medda, for sure. Now he was on his way to a more “artsy” class, at the carpentry workshop.

With a sigh, the professor told every student to take protection equipment from the locker at the back of the room as soon as they entered. Then, she proceeded to read the syllabus with her monotonous voice. The first project was going to be a medium decorative sculpture. They weren’t going to use the saw yet, but there were sharp tools involved, so they ought to be careful anyways.

Attached to the syllabus, there was a list of forbidden sculptures — tables, shelves, squares and any other kind of simple shape and so on and so forth for two and a half pages.

Jack turned his head to the left, getting a view of the front patio through the window. There had to be a loophole on this list he could explore. He just needed some help to find it.

The bell finally rang, prompting the students to return the equipment to their respective boxes and flee the premises. Jack’s stomach growled as he reached the cement path.

He had a free period before lunch was served, so he bought a snack — a bag of chips and a bottle of lemon juice, his favorites — and headed to the dorm, with the hope that he would have the place to himself.

But well, he was wrong. David was hunched over his desk, typing as if the wooden floor was about to open and shallow him.

 “How’s it going?”, Jack asked, letting the heavy backpack fall on the bed with a muffled sound.

“One day into this and I am already screwed.”, he rubbed his forehead and took a glance at the blank document he should be working on. “You?”

“I am thinking about dropping out”, David stared at him, his eyes wide open. “Relax, it’s just Carpentry.”

They stayed there, in an awkward silence trying to figure out how to kill that piece of free time.

“If you had to write an essay about a historical period, what time would you choose?”, David got Jack’s attention.

“Something easy, like the eighties or the nineties”, Jack approached the desk to read the text on the computer screen. The professor wanted the students to do some broad research — focusing on wherever they found interesting or important — and then, write a news article about it. “Or maybe the seventies. Then, you can write about the hippie movement and its impacts in modern society.”

“I liked your first idea better. I can dissect the millennial lifestyle. Maybe interview some people.” 

Then Jack decided to work on a portrait of Medda, based on a picture taken on the day he graduated from High School. It would make a good Christmas present when finished.

She started acting when she was seventeen, so all the changes time imposed on her were registered somewhere. At thirty-five, when she became Jack’s foster parent, she didn’t look like the star-strucking beauty she once was, but she was gorgeous, for sure. Now, ten years later, she was considered a maternal figure by pretty much everyone who laid eyes on her. However, he still found it difficult to represent her kind and soft gaze.

“Who is she?”, David said, over Jack’s shoulder.

“My mom.”

“That looks awesome, man. Do you take commissions?” 

I do now, Jack thought, nodding.

“Great. Can you paint a picture of my family? They would love it”, he started scrolling through his phone’s gallery. “This one is good. Can you do it?”

Jack studied the image. It showed a happy couple with their three smiley children in front of their double-deck house. He recognized the younger versions of David and Les, along with a girl — perhaps one or two years older than David.

“ I charge fifteen bucks per person plus ten dollars if the background is complex. So that adds up to…”, he pressed buttons on his phone’s calculator. “Eighty-five bucks.”

“Is it okay if I give you fifty bucks now and…”

“The rest when it’s done?”, Jack raised an eyebrow. “Fine, but only because I know where you sleep”, he laughed.

This guy has got a weird sense of humor, David thought, transferring him the money. 

“It is a pleasure to make business with you, good sir.”

***

“We should get going”, David announced on Friday night.

In twenty minutes, they were ready to go to Sarah’s party. Despite the chilly wind, they decided to walk there and take a look around the campus. They passed by fraternity houses and dorm buildings where blaring music could be heard through closed windows and people were already wasted.

He is hating this, David thought as Jack walked silently by his side. He’ll go back to the dorm and never talk to me again.

Jack didn’t. He just kept kicking pebbles along the sidewalk. Around his head, the world was covered by a dark blue cloth as the moon got up from behind the clouds.

Sarah’s house was the block’s church mouse when they got there. David walked ahead of Jack to ring the doorbell.

“Coming!”, an unknown voice announced. The girl took a glance at David before shouting louder: “Your brother’s here!”

“Thanks, Kath”, the girl seemed to have appeared out of thin air. “Evening, boys.”

She hugged David and extended a hand to Jack.

“I’m Jack, the roommate”, he said, shaking her hand politely.

“I’m Sarah, the sister. C’mon, the guys want to meet you.”

In the neatly-decorated living room, two boys were sitting in front of the TV, playing Mario Kart. On the other side of the room, three girls are discussing a book over cups of coffee. Sarah got a hold of David’s arm and dragged him through the little groups. Jack approached the snack table to have some soda.

“Can you fill this up, please?”

Jack filled a cup with lemon soda up to the top and gave it back to the boy who was leaning on the wall next to him.

“Thanks”, he drank a big gulp and burped. “S-sorry. I’m thirsty.”

“Oh, hi, Thirsty. I’m Jack.”

“That was terrible”, he chuckled.

“What? You almost spilled your drink!”

“That’s because I have weak nerd arms”, he flexed his left arm. “My name is Charlie, but everyone calls me Crutchie.”

Before Jack could open his mouth again, the boy showed him the crutch under his right armpit.

“So, how did you sneak in?”, Crutchie grinned. “The window?”

“Nah, Sarah’s brother invited me.”

“Which one is he?”, Crutchie fixed his posture to look around.

“The one with the black pants over there.”

“Hmmm… your boyfriend is pretty.”

“Not my boyfriend. Roommate.”

Someone turned some jazz music on with a loud giggle.

“C’mon, Jane. This isn’t a café!”, Crutchie said. 

“But it looks like one”, a girl replied.

All eyes in the room had turned to the argument going on, except for David’s. He was way too focused on his own conversation to care about people around him. He didn’t even seem to notice that the girls near him had basically turned their backs on him to participate in the “Jane vs. Crutchie” thing.

His hands had stopped mid-air, drawing visual aids for a story Jack couldn’t hear. Something in the scene reminded him of the Vitruvian man he had seen a thousand times in Arts classrooms.

He grabbed the sketchbook and pencil in his pocket and drew a circle. He could draw a basic face with his eyes closed, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t have trouble getting the hands right.

***

Sarah’s friends were very interesting, David noticed as she introduced him to each one of them. Especially the girl who opened the door.  Her name was Katherine and she was more than happy to follow Sarah around. Actually, it seemed that both girls were satisfied with the arrangement, because  every few minutes, Sarah would interrupt the conversation to look for Katherine.

Their other roommate turned some music on while people sat down to eat pizza and drink soda. David watched as Jack helped a boy fill his plate with mini pizza slices.

“You can ask”, Sarah placed a hand on David’s shoulder. “But don’t stare. That is rude.”

 Only then, David noticed the crutch on which the right side of the boy’s body leaned. It wasn’t thicker than a twig and was almost invisible against the yellow wallpaper. And his wide jeans covered any defects his leg could have.

Now Jack, with that button-up shirt he loved so much, was as bright as the Sun. Their conversation was inaudible from across the room, but Jack was smiling a lot — David liked to see him smiling, because that Carpentry project was gradually sucking his soul away.

  Speaking of assignments, David had his own problem to solve: a short story with tridimensional characters and a man vs. society and a man vs. self conflicts. That on top of all the other homework he had to do made his brain twirl. He knew he could make it, but he also wanted to run back to his dorm and type his fingers out.

Stop, take a deep breath and take a look around, was Esther’s advice every time her children had trouble writing. Maybe the universe has got a clue for you.

“So, Debra has quit for real this time?”, Sarah asked Katherine.

“Yeah. She got that position she was hoping for.”

“So you need a new assistant.”

“Correct.”

“You know, my little bro here studies journalism too. And he would love to join the newspaper.” 

“I see…”, Katherine looked at David with a raised eyebrow. “You start on Monday. Thanks, love”, she turned around to kiss Sarah’s cheek.

“Anything for you, dear.”

Sarah finally let go of David’s arm, just to grab Katherine’s waist and walk away. In a millisecond, David crossed the room and sat by Jack’s side, ready to whisper at his ear:

“I’m in.”

“The newspaper?”, David nodded with a huge smile. “That’s great, Davey.”

Davey. No one had ever thought of calling him that way. And when the word came out of Jack’s lips, it sounded like a brand-new symphony.

“C’mon, let’s celebrate”,  Jack offered him a hand.

“I thought you wanted to draw!”

“I have enough sketches for three months now.”

 They put their coats on and got out the door. Jack held it open to David by instinct.

“Why, thank you”, David smiled at him. “You are a true gentleman.”

“Mom taught me well.”

Again, they walked in silence to the empty bus stop. Around them, parties were still going on — and with no end in sight.

“I know a place that sells great coffee. They call it ‘secret blend’ or something”, Jack said, getting on the bus.

“Lead the way, then.”

They passed by the college campus and entered the city neighborhood — which was inhabited mostly by students nevertheless. The apartment buildings were not too high. It was like a toddler had placed some toy construction blocks in groups of four with strip malls under them here and there.

Cheap burger and coffee shops raised to the sky, their green spotlights bashing the sidewalks and streets. They stopped in front of an obscure shop, with a half-lit sign that said “Dale’s” in blue neon calligraphy. This time, David opened the door, which earned him a smile from Jack.

The place wasn’t busy, so they grabbed a seat near the window and waited for someone to bring them the menu. A girl their age — her name was Patricia, according to the little tag on her shirt — welcomed them to Dale’s Coffee Shop, the most trendy place in town and the unofficial home of the Gray Tigers.

 “I should start calling myself an unofficial member of the Gray Tigers”, Jack pondered as the waitress left. “At least, it sounds good”, he looked so determined saying that. Not to mention he had been training and talking about it non-stop ever since he met Racetrack. 

Jack ordered an espresso with one cream and five sugars and David asked for a vanilla cold brew. While waiting, the boys observed the movement on the street.

“I almost forgot”, David said, watching as an old man carried a seemingly heavy wooden box. “How is your Carpentry project?”

“I still have no idea what to do about that”, Jack sighed. “We are not allowed to use simple shapes or saws, so what can we do? I hate this class so much I can’t come up with a single thing.”

“You could take two square pieces, sandpaper them on the top and sides, nail them together and paint it red. Boom! You have a heart.”

“Thanks”, Jack gave him a shy smile. “Actually, do you mind if I use your idea?”

“Yeah. Happy to help.”

David’s mind once again wondered about the short story he had to write. The only thing he knew was that he wanted to discuss the desires and agonies of a young artist’s heart.

“Hey, Jack”, the boy looked up from his phone. “I have a tricky assignment to do. 

“And what is that?”

“A short story.” 

“That should be no trouble for you, a freshman and already a member of the university newspaper.”

 “The thing is: it has to meet some weird requirements and I was thinking I could use you as an inspiration for my main character?”

“Yeah. Just don’t give the poor guy an overly tragic death, ok?”

David nodded as a cup was placed in front of him. Jack was served immediately after and then, his world could be summarized to that slightly stained, chipped porcelain cup.

“You should at least try your drink”, David suggested. “It will get cold.”

“Oh”, Jack shook his head, now passing his gaze to David. He had a gulp of his coffee, perfectly made, as Race said it would be. “Do you have a plot for the story?”

“Kinda. I know what I want to explore, I just don’t know how.”

“Tell me about it. That might help.”

As David recited the concepts he had in mind, Jack noticed how his elbows leaned against the plywood table.

I wonder if he’ll think it’s rude if I do a quick sketch.

“What are you drawing?”

“It’s… hum… your character”, he finished the hair, parted in the middle, like David said. “See?”

“Wow!”, he stared at the small page. “It looks great! I love what you did with his hair.”

“You can use it to illustrate your story if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’ll give me an excuse to use the graphics tablet my mom’s friend got me.”

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it”, Jack wiped the air in front of him.

“Sorry guys, but I need you to leave”, the waitress approached them, followed by a tall, bald man (probably her manager). “We are about to close.”

“Oh, ok. Sorry”, said Jack, getting up. “How much do we owe you?”

Jack insisted on paying for the whole bill — he also left a generous tip. After all, he was the one who did the inviting.

“After you, good sir”, David held the door open.

“Aren’t they the cutest?”, the guy whispered  at the girl’s ear a second before the door was closed.

“I know, right?”

#newsiesminibang24 #Newsies #92ies #Javey #Livesies #Art student!Jack #Journalism Student!David #David Jacobs x Jack Kelly #Sarah Jacobs x Katherine Pulitzer #Sarah Jacobs x Katherine Plumber #Friends to Lovers #Rugby player!Jack #Both Jack and David love coffee #Mutual Pining #Fluff #omg they were roommates