#race and jack are brothers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Average visit duration of Tumblr.com is 10 mins and 25 secs.

#race and jack are brothers

i-politely-disagree · 2 months

Text

I really wanna write a fic where Jack and Spot are equally overprotective of Race, so when Race and Spot start dating, Jack becomes a weird sort of helicopter sibling and Spot is just over it.

(half the story would honestly end up being weird filler but I felt the need to share the hc)

#newsies #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #spot x race #sprace #not a fic #jack kelly #what am i doing here #they'd be weird frenemies #race and jack are brothers

68 notes · View notes

incorrect-batfam-quotes-mostly · 11 months

Text

Race: Jack, I did something really stupid.

Jack: That’s a new record. I haven’t even had breakfast.

#Newsies #newsies incorrect quotes #racetrack higgins #race newsies #Jack Kelly #jack kelly is a tired older brother

112 notes · View notes

newsiesficchallenges · 1 month

Text

Day One of Found ‘Em in a Dumpster!

Happy Day One of blorbos week! For today, just send an ask with the name of your blorbo and the most unhinged reason why they’re your blorbo. Whoever has the best gets the prize of worldwide acclaim and prestige!

12 notes · View notes

kellyscowboy · 11 months

Text

꒰✧ᯇ✦꒱ OUTLAWS OF SANTA FE

ᯇ summary ! ✦ “You know what they say about cowboys who brag too loud about their women.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose. Jack gave a mock laugh. “Anyone in town would tell you I’m not queer. ‘Specially the ladies who pass through. Who do you think you are, anyway?” As the boy pushed his hat out of his face, he made direct eye-contact with the outlaw. "I think I'm the fella that can send the ‘famous’ Jack Kelly home crying to his mama." Jack was silent, stunned. His finger was still pressed into the man’s chest, but it had begun to shake. "What now, Cowboy? I'd tell you to take me down like you promised," Deadwood gave a slight shove to Jack’s shoulder, yet he found himself almost toppling over. "But you're too corned to even stand straight." aka the wild westsies au i've had in my drafts forever ᯇ tag list ! ✦ @bound-for-santa-fe ,, @fandomtrashcollector (taglist form is in my pinned post!!) ᯇ warnings ! ✦ cussing, alcohol consumption, violence, use of guns ᯇ vienna's thoughts ! ✦ here are the meanings of the wild west slang words in here:) paintin' his nose - to get drunk corned - drunk fogy - a stupid fellow dynamite - whiskey ANYWAY, i've had this in my drafts for forever and i just wanted to finally finish is so sorry that the ending is really rushed el oh el. also i recommend listening to Billy the Kid by Tex Ritter before reading!! as always, reblogs & comments are always appreciated <333 ALSO READ IT ON AO3 THE PLAYLIST 2883 WORDS © 2023 , 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

WANTED Jack ‘Cowboy’ Kelly $1,000.000 REWARD Wanted for robbery, murder, and disruption of the public. Does not attack without motive. Contact Sheriff Charles Morris of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

WANTED The Delancey Brothers $500.000 REWARD Oscar and Morris Delancey are wanted for robbery and attempted murder. Contact Sheriff Charles Morris of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE Deadwood David $5,000.000 REWARD Wanted for robbery and murder, on a large scale. Does not attack without motive. Contact Sheriff Charles Morris of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

A proud cowboy listened to the chatter of customers outside of Spots Shootin' Saddle Saloon. A cocky smirk played at his lips as he pushed through swinging doors. He heard gasps and the sound of multiple pistols being dragged from his holster. Then, the saloon went silent—save for the high-pitched squeak of wet glass being towel dried.

The bartender didn't even spare him a glance. "Well, well. If it ain’t the famous Jack Kelly."

“I could say the same to you, Spot. Lookit you, got yer own saloon and everything.”

One of the saloon boys perked up. "Jack!” The boy gave a half-hearted excuse to the men he was serving, he made up for his departure with a wink. He eagerly made his way behind the bar and began fixing the ex-cowboy a drink. "What brings you into town?"

Jack gratefully took the drink with a tip of his hat. “You’re a good man, Race.” He downed the drink before addressing the question before him. "Can't a lonely cowboy just visit his old friends?"

"Why, sure he could!” Racetrack grinned, already refilling his glass.

“That is, if that's what he was really doing." Spot added quickly. “Besides, can’t really be calling yourself a cowboy anymore. Not when a wanted poster names you an outlaw.”

“I can call myself whatever I please.” The cowboy realized it was a fight not worth fighting. He waved him off and dragged the newly poured whiskey closer. "Howd’ya know it was me?”

Spot laughed. "What, when you walked in? Yer the only fella I know who quiets my saloon like that.”

Racetrack leaned forward against the counter; his arm wrapped lovingly around Spot’s waist. He rested his head in his own hand, his elbow digging into marble, and gave Jack a pointed look. "Not anymore. Say, Jack; you heard of that David feller, yet? He paid us a visit couple’a days ago. Shoot, we didn’t hear much noise in here ‘till the next day!”

Jack's fingers squeezed his glass, before they relaxed and stretched. "Yeah, I've heard of him. Fill 'er up again, would'ya?"

Spot took the glass and kept his gaze on the outlaw whilst he poured the whiskey. He placed it in front of the boy with a thump, then glared at him through narrowed eyes. "What are you really here for, cowboy?"

"Just paintin’ my nose, Spot." Jack pushed away from the bar, drink in hand. He sat down with a boy who was lazily pulling at the strings of his guitar. “Tell me a story, Al."

The boy responded with a toothy grin, then tipped his hat up and out of his eyes. He slowly looked up and made eye contact with the outlaw. “Long time no see, Jackie." He plucked at his guitar more rhythmically than before. "What'cha wanna hear?"

"Why don’t you tell that one about ole Billy the Kid?”

"Only because you're an old friend." Albert chuckled. He took a deep breath before he put on his story-telling voice. His demeanor demanded the attention of those around him, and he always got it when he was performing. "Some folks do a lot of good in the world, that encourages us to do good. A few people start off on the wrong foot - their black deeds serve as a warning post to us. The song I'm gonna to sing for you now, fellers, is about a boy who sorta wandered off the straight and narrow trail, took up a crooked course. As usual with all outlaws, he paid with his life. His name,” a pause, “was Billy the Kid."

His singing was mesmerizing, just like his stories, and everyone in the saloon slowly began to sing along. Some of them absentmindedly hummed along as they gambled, and others gave the man their full attention. They swayed merrily back and forth with each other, their glasses raised to the gods as they hooted and hollered.

"I'll sing you a true song of Billy the Kid. I'll sing of the desperate deeds that he did. Out in New Mexico, long time ago, When a man's only chance was his own forty-four."

While everyone sang along, a boy slipped in through the doors, entirely unnoticed. He whispered to Spot and kept his head hung low. Had he made any noise, it had been covered up by obnoxious singing. The boy pushed a couple of coins across the counter before he slumped farther into his hat.

"When Billy the Kid was a very young lad, In old Silver City, he went to the bad. Way out in the West with a gun in his hand- At the age of twelve years, he killed his first man."

Racetrack wanted to tell Jack about the man at the bar, but Spot had instructed him to keep quiet. He had been told to loosen the outlaw up, and he did just that. Race kept a close eye on Jack’s drink and made sure he never reached the bottom of his glass.

"Fair Mexican maidens play guitars and sing A song about Billy, their boy bandit king. How ere his young man-hood had reached it's sad end, Had a notch on his pistol for twenty-one men."

To say the drinks had loosened him up would be an understatement. Jack pranced around the table—dragging Racetrack along with him—with his glass raised. The whiskey sloshed over the side and splashed his boots. He jumped atop the tables and managed to gain the attention of all the customers. It wasn’t long before everyone was shouting and throwing their drinks into the air.

"Twas on the same night, when poor Billy died, He said to his friends, 'I'm not satisfied, Twenty-one men I have put bullets through. Sheriff Pat Garrett must make twenty-two."

Jack tried to sing along, but his mouth had other plans. He rambled to Albert, who just smiled as he sang, about his recent affairs. “I could take down the sheriff!” He bragged. “No! I could take down big ol’ Deadwood David… with my eyes closed!” Al shook his head and his eyes flitted quickly to the man at the bar.

"Now this is how Billy the Kid met his fate. The bright moon was shining, the hour was late. Shot down by Pat Garrett, who once was his friend. The young outlaw's life had now come to its end."

“Don’t make promises ya can’t keep, Kelly.” Spot warned with a sigh. Racetrack cocked an eyebrow from his place next to Jack. He raised the pitcher in question, and moved away from the table when Spot shook his head. The cowboy waved off Spot’s warning as the bartender whispered lowly to his customer.

"There's many a man with a face fine and fair, Who starts out in life with a chance to be square. But just like poor Billy, he wanders astray And loses his life in the very same way."

Everyone cheered in unison for the song; although, some might’ve been cheering for their gambling wins. Albert smiled and tipped his hat before he went back to strumming mindlessly at his guitar. A small grin made its way onto his face as Jack drunkenly droned on.

"D’ya hear Spot? Talkin’ bout promises I can't keep!" He scoffed; a drunk burp made its way up his throat. "I mean- Listen, I've got way more kills under my belt than Billy the Kid had got." Jack took a sip of his glass. Race had been filling it with coffee, but he was much too drunk to notice. “He would’ve never died if he was as experienced as me. Besides, this Deadwood guy’s a total poser. I betcha I could take him on with my-” He looked confused for a second. “With my- my eyes closed!”

“So you’ve said.” Albert shook his head and chuckled. "Anyhow… the song ain’t a challenge, Cowboy. It's a warning. Don’t mess with something that ain’t botherin’ you.”

"You’re starting to sound like my Papaw, Al.” Jack bumped Albert’s shoulder with his cup. “He don’t look good on you. Oh! You know who looked good on me, though? Them gals over in Tombstone.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!" He slurred. "I mean, practically a different girl each night. Gorgeous women too. Unlike any lady out in these parts."

An obnoxious scoff came from the boy at the bar. He circled his finger around the rim of his glass as he spoke, his head still down. “I sure ain’t heard any Tombstone ladies bragging on about pirooting with a Jack Kelly.”

All conversation ceased at the boy’s words. The notes on Albert’s guitar suddenly became more dramatic, and Jack would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so offended. Spot let out an exasperated sigh, but the rest of the customers were visibly tense. Every man had a hand on his gun, waiting for a showdown.

Jack turned and stared the boy down. "Maybe you ain't talked to the right ladies.”

"Maybe you just ain’t worth bragging about.” The boy took a sip of his drink. Racetrack let out a short giggle, then nervously ducked under the counter to make a drink that nobody had asked for. “Or, maybe, you ain’t really been with as many ladies as you claim.”

Disgruntled, Jack got up and made his way to the bar. The boy laughed as the outlaw tripped a little over his own feet. Jack grabbed the man by a shoulder and forced him to spin in his chair. He shoved a mean finger into the man’s chest. The man at the bar snickered, his face still covered by his hat.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Huh?”

“You know what they say about cowboys who brag too loud about their women.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose.

Jack gave a mock laugh. “Anyone in town would tell you I’m not queer. ‘Specially the ladies who pass through. Who do you think you are, anyway?”

As the boy pushed his hat out of his face, he made direct eye-contact with the outlaw. "I think I'm the fella that can send the ‘famous’ Jack Kelly home crying to his mama." Jack was silent, stunned. His finger was still pressed into the man’s chest, but it had begun to shake. "What now, Cowboy? I'd tell you to take me down like you promised," Deadwood gave a slight shove to Jack’s shoulder, yet he found himself almost toppling over. "But you're too corned to even stand straight."

Spot cleared his throat. “I won’t have you dunderheads havin’ a showdown in my saloon. Be respectable, boys.”

“There wasn’t gonna be no showdown, anyhow. This feller’s too drunk to do anything. He couldn’t shoot at me even if he had his pistol to my head.” Deadwood flicked a coin to Spot. “Thanks for the dynamite, Spot.” And with that, he proudly walked out of the saloon.

Jack watched the man leave and stood tall with fake pride. After the man was gone, he made a drunken attempt to sit down but instead accepted his place on the floor. Racetrack sighed and raised the outlaw by his armpits before sitting him on a barstool. Spot scoffed as he handed the outlaw a glass of water. “I told you not to make promises you can’t keep, you stubborn ole fogy.”

"I'm fixin' to keep that promise. But right now,” He started to gag, “I think I'm gonna be sick."

“Steady, Izar.” Jack mumbled. “Ain’t too far from here.” His horse neighed, almost as if she was responding to him. She even sighed as he stumbled into her. Jack could almost hear her complain about his recklessness. “I ain’t that drunk, Izar. Honest.”

He led her into the stable behind the Conlon home. “Spot was kind ‘nough to give us a nice little place to stay in for the night.” Jack looked around the stable and flinched at the smell of manure. “Well, he offered to let me stay in the house. But ya know I can’t leave you, mama.”

“Second I heard about you, Jack Kelly, I knew you were insane.” A voice muttered from the corner. “But I never would’a figured you was the type of insane to talk to yourself.”

Jack groaned. “Fuckin’ Spot. He knew you’d be here. Ain’t that right, Deadwood?”

“Yup.”

A tense silence fell over them, but Jack was far too tired (and drunk) to start a fight. He began to take off Izar’s saddle. “I wasn’t talkin’ to myself. I was talking to Izar.” He explained and gestured to his horse. Though, as Deadwood laughed, he realized that wasn’t a much better excuse. “Listen, I don’t feel the need to explain myself to you.”

“Yet here you are. Doing it.” Deadwood snorted as he pulled his hat further over his face. The hay he was laying in enveloped him as he snuggled deeper into it. “Now, I promise not to kill ya if ya promise to shut up.”

Jack grunted in agreement. His intuition screamed at him not to let his guard down, but Izar had already nestled herself into the hay. At that moment, he figured his awful gut feeling was just the whiskey from earlier. Besides, Izar had a good judge of character, most of the time. She curled around Jack as he rested against her, and the two slowly drifted off to sleep, just inches away from one of the deadliest men in the country.

Yelling voices and the sound of cracked wood startled Jack awake. Once he came to his senses, he realized that Izar was no longer behind him. Panic filled his chest and he scrambled to his feet. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he began to barely make out what was happening in the shadows.

Deadwood had a lanky boy pinned beneath him, his pistol to the person’s head. Another boy laid up against the wall of the barn; he was surrounded by splinters and his own blood. His head lolled against his shoulder, the blood from his nose pooled on his leather vest. The boy had a gun in his hand, the safety off and his hand on the trigger.

David lifted the boy underneath him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. “I knew you were pathetic, Morris. But going so low as to kill a man in his sleep? We may be outlaws, but we have some sense of morality.” His hand in the Delancey brothers’ shirt tightened as he pushed the boy farther into the wall; Jack could hear the wood cracking beneath him. “And you don’t kill a man’s horse. Not unless you’re too much of a pussy to kill the owner.” Then, he dropped the man to the floor and spit at him.

Morris used a dramatic hand to wipe off his face before he scrambled to his feet. His hands shook as he moved to grab his pistol. “You place a single finger on that gun, and I will break every single one of your fingers-” Deadwood growled and grabbed the boy’s wrist. “One. By. One.”

After he let go of Morris’ wrist, the boy tripped over himself as he picked up his brother. Oscar barely seemed alive; his only sign of life had been the elongated groan he let out as Morris lifted him. David stopped the two before they could hurry out the door. “You two better never point a pistol at my Cowboy or his horse ever again. Next time, you don’t get a warning. I’ll line you two up and watch the bullets go straight through both of you.”

The two hesitantly nodded (Oscar moved his head down, and that was enough for David). Morris dragged his brother out the door, and it wasn’t long before the sound of galloping hoofs grew quieter and quieter.

“What the hell was that about?” Jack demanded. Deadwood rolled his eyes and led Izar out from behind his own horse.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Cowboy. Go back to sleep.”

“You’re losin’ it if you think I’m gonna let this shit go,” Jack argued as he moved to pet Izar’s neck. “They got you riled up enough to call me your cowboy.” He scoffed. “And you called me queer.”

David cocked his pistol in retaliation. “I defended you while you’s was asleep, but I’m not against shooting a man who’s awake.”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry, Deadwood. I won’t tell no-one ‘bout this. It wouldn’t be good for my reputation, anyhow. Cowboy don’t need no-one to save him.” He closed his eyes, an amused grin on his lips, and went back to resting against Izar.

The infamous outlaw stared at him, before he broke into laughter. “Spot was right. You are a stubborn ole fogy.”

35 notes · View notes

str4wb3rry-newsboy · 1 month

Note

If you endgame ship jackcrutchie, how does that work with canon events (asking respectfully.) Was Jack ever attracted to kath and/or Davey? Does he try it with one of them and then go back to Crutchie? If so does that hurt Crutchie's feelings at all/does he date anybody else?

in my mind jack didnt think of crutchie as an option cuz its the 1890s and ppl wouldnt even talk about that kind of stuff. he definitely liked katherine and their relationship was meaningful but sometimes things just dont work out with people. maybe their lives are just headed in different directions and they thought they were better off as friends. jack would realize how he felt about crutchie MONTHS after that, and they wouldnt get together till many years later.

crutchie has known he was in love with him since day one, no one finds out until jack gets with katherine and race notices how it affects him. race and spot are the only ones who know until they eventually figure their shit out. jack probably tells race and/or spot at some point as well, making them both go insane trying to convince each of them to do something about it. davey would probably be the first person jack would tell tho.

regarding davey, i dont think jack ever was attracted to him (except in 92sies cuz there is no other explanation for that shit). i personally love aroace davey but if not that then maybe davey had a little crush on him for a bit, but it faded pretty fast after the strike. him and jack are besties.

if you cant tell i love jack and crutchie dearly and they have a home in my head.

#also spot and jack are both latino and theyre brothers #i have a lot of headcanons that i treat as canon #newsies #newsies the musical #crutchie morris #jackcrutchie #crutchie #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #newsies broadway #race higgins #spot conlon #headcanons #newsies headcanons #newsies hc

5 notes · View notes

muckety-mucks-i-s-goin-delux · 1 year

Text

There is a reason why Jack and Crutchie are newsies leaders with Race as the second in command, the holy trio of Lower Manhattan

Jack is a natural born leader, he's charismatic, he's been around and seen how the world works but he's also idealistic. This boy is a DREAMER. He's the loverboy. It's easy to get swept into the fantasy when Jack talks about it. A strike? Sure, sounds great, we can take them no doubt.

He's also mighty protective of his kids. He'd give up his dreams, his ideals just to keep his kids safe. He'd do anything for them, he's the person you go to when you have a problem and he might not be able to solve it (or have an idea how to for that matter) but he will listen and advise best he can.

He also definitely puts away some of the money he earns for whenever some of the newsies can't pay for food or lodging or whenever they need bandages or medicine.

He also loves the newsies so much, he definitely mother hens them.

Crutchie is not an obvious leader, not with Jack around but the kids flock to him anyway. He's got easy, playful (gremlin like) personality, he's great problem solver and best at advise. He's the VOICE OF REASON. A strike? Yeah, we should probably swallow the bitter pill and get the papes or well starve cos noone cares about us.

He's been around, being an orphan and having a bum leg, long enough to know that the world is a cruel place and he's wise beyond his years in a day to day matters. He's the one that thinks of basic, yet crucial for survival things like will they have enough food? Is everyone in the lodging and do they have a place to sleep? He sees a kid on a street and offers help. He's the one to keep the guys (or not if it's particularly funny) in check. Jack, for the love of everything holy no. This is the stupidities things I've heard. No, Race you can't do that and I don't care you think you can take them. You will die. He sees Les and immediately wants to keep him safe but the he remembers right they got folks

Racetrack is the second in command because he's younger than the other two, a kid enough to still mess around with his friend and be the smartass funny guy of the group but when things get serious he does a 180 and he does not fuck around. Strike? Fuck ye, we won't let them walk all over us! It will be a pleasure to tell Weasel meself! But at the same time when he sees there are no reinforcement coming he wants to back down, he looks around at the kids and thinks fuck we can't take them, this is a bad idea.

He's the tough love kind of guy, he loves the newsies, they are the only family he had, being at the lodging house the longest/a newsie for forever so if you fuck with one of them get ready cos he's coming for you. But at the same time he'd leave them to resolve their problems themselves or does not interfere unless things get real. You spend all the money already? Suck to be you. Haha, get a load of that guy, what a loser. Jack you still thinking? Sure he is can't ya smell the smoke?

He's most independent of the newsies. He goes to Brooklyn everyday, sells his papers, bet on the ponies (usually wins because he's wicked at maths and probability) and at the end of the day comes back to joke around and tell funny stories. But when Denaceys are picking on someone he's first one to start a fight. He's the first person you go get when shit goes down on the streets because he will not lecture you like Crutchie would or would not fuss too much like Jack would. He would call you an idiot and move on. But he's loyal to a fault just has a lot of anger building underneath and does not know how to process that so he either ignores it or just blows, but not on the newsies, no, he'd just pick a fight with someone or say something a little meaner than he intended but they know he doesn't mean it.

He's the second cos he doesn't know yet how he would lead the newsies. He keeps his feet on the ground hard and sucks at all that mothering Jack does. He's also used to doing his own thing and what's he supposed to do when people start looking up to him for guidance?

He also definitely puts away some money just not as obvious like Jack to help out the ones that are down on their luck at the moment. He would be the official secretary if newsies had one. No, Jack, we absolutely do not have money for that. No, Henry, don't take 100 papes. Why? One cos yous not Jack, you're shit at selling, two the headline sucks and chances are you'll be eating 20% of what's it worth and you can't afford that

21 notes · View notes

onemorestrangeronthestreet · 10 months

Text

Hi this is something I wrote a while back about after the strike

---

Jack wasn't satisfied. He wasn't satisfied with the win. He boasted about the accomplishments they've made, but it was all to hide his true feelings. He stayed up for many nights, making sure everybody was alright, cause he felt it was his responsibility. There was hidden terror, hidden guilt, hidden feelings of worthlessness. But he kept up a proud front, cause that's what he wanted the others to see

Crutchie wasn't happy. He wasn't happy to be back. He cracked a smile to comfort the others, but it wasn't the same smile as before. He gave his food to the others, cause that's what he was used to in the refuge. There were hidden bruises, hidden scars, hidden tears. But he kept up a happy front, cause that's what he wanted the others to see.

Race wasn't clueless. He wasn't clueless about what his brothers were going through. He told a joke to make the others laugh, but he did it to not let them in on his worry. He kept a close eye on his boys, cause he knew they always did the same for him. There were hidden thoughts, hidden words not said, hidden anxieties. But he kept up a careless front, cause that's what he wanted the others to see.

#race crutchie and jack are brothers #especially in the uk version #i love them #sorry this got darker than i intended #I've always thought the newsies finale is weirdly happy #i get that its a musical and it kinda has to be #but still #newsies #musicals #uksies #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #crutchie morris #race newsies #crutchie newsies

7 notes · View notes

i-politely-disagree · 16 days

Text

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

20 notes · View notes

we-are-inevitable · 1 year

Note

Race DnD

this is just a silly little high school/college au in my mind. race is jack’s younger brother, a junior in high school, and jack and davey are both in their freshman years of university when they start dating. when jack beings davey home to meet the fam after they start dating, race and davey dont immediately click, but as soon as davey mentions that he’s a DM for a campaign, race won’t shut up about the bard he’s playing in a discord campaign with his friends

#cue race and davey talking about dnd for forty five minutes and creating an idea for a one-shot to do eventually #so now davey has tentative plans to DM a campaign for his boyfriend’s younger brother and a hoard of 15/16/17 year olds #davey jacobs #david jacobs #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #newsies #livesies #newsies musical #ask a jac !

18 notes · View notes