#my day has been full of newsies shit

[pigeonwit]

i DO want 2 ask you about racevid you're so right. tell me your racevid thoughts /nf :3

it's 1AM and i just got home from musical con and the newsies thoughts are rattling around in my skull so here's a full analysis of racevid in newsies (specifically referencing newsies uk, because of course i am, i have a problem)

ive said many times. there is nothing more romantic to me than inosculation. the natural phenomenon where the limbs of two trees grow into one another, slowly rubbing away the bark between them both until the flesh meets and they grow together, connected. i think race and davey perfectly encapsulate this.

race and davey do not like each other in newsies uk. you could argue davey's dislike of race is less personal, since it really seems like he just wants to provide for his family and not get distracted by loud, rude boys whom he obviously doesn't understand. davey's an outsider, we know this. he doesn't really GET being rough and rowdy the way other boys are, especially race, who is obnoxiously rough and rowdy from the moment they meet. if you're a race stannie you'll be of the same opinion as me, which is that race is only this much of a commanding presence because he HAS to be - he's one of the eldest newsies there and he's jack's second in command, he has to look like he has his shit together and isn't some kind of pushover (also it's the 1800s which i think we can all agree were notoriously Bad At Gender Roles - the toxic masculinity is gonna be toxic masculinity-ing). but davey doesn't know this, of course, so it's easy for him to brush race off as just another loudmouth who he doesn't need to know any further. which, yeah, is kind of rude, but i don't think it's rude in a way davey feels he should be aware of? i think he's of the mindset that race doesn't really care who he is, so he doesn't need to care who race is, either, or any of the other boys for that matter. but race does care. very much.

race's dislike of davey seems far more personal to me. i think he took one look at davey - smartly dressed, well-spoken, obviously not interested in learning anything about the other newsies and obviously unaware of what goes into actually paying your own way - and decided that davey was a fraud, just some prissy schoolboy looking to make some extra pocket money and had no idea of the struggles of actual working kids. i think race is very defensive of the newsies and takes on a lot of their burdens himself - he seems very self-sacrificial to me and his gambling habits, smoking and general attitude seem like the coping mechanisms of a kid under far more stress than they should be. so i think seeing davey, he feels angry. we as the audience know davey is obviously struggling, but to race, who canonically has a massive family yet no one who wants to take him in, who is intelligent yet can't go to school or have a good career, who takes care of a hundred boys every day yet has no one who takes care of him, who is constantly stressed all the time with little reprieve and yet is only ever considered 'jack's loudmouth second', i think he sees davey as someone who has EVERYTHING, and thereby has no right to complain.

it's been said before, not just by me, but when race says 'ain't we the hoi polloi?' that is an INSULT, especially in newsies uk. he's not just trying to playfully rag on davey, he is fully trying to show him that he is not welcome with the newsies, he is not one of them, and he has no right to complain about being late because his mother asked for help. when davey says 'if you look and see brooklyn, then they're with us!', he's trying to joke around - we can see that davey's warmed up to jack and wants to be included with the newsies now despite his previous reservations, he WANTS to have this group of friends and brothers and he wants them to think of him as one of them - but in the performance i saw, race FLIES at him while davey flinches away, yelling 'dont get smart with me!' and has to be held back before he can get in davey's face and presumably hit him. i think it'd be so easy for davey to dismiss race entirely here - it wouldn't be undeserved, the guy tried to HIT HIM - but we can see race growing more and more stressed as the strike begins, storming away from crutchie and hissing 'that's pitiful!' to jack like he's BEGGING, and i think davey would obviously resonate with that. he knows how it feels to be the stressed older brother, the guy who's supposed to be taking care of everyone else yet never gets listened to by the elders. if he's told to do something, he just has to do it, because that's what's expected. in many ways, davey and race are similar in that regard; they're both an older brother, but they're not the eldest nor are they the favourite child of their family (sarah in davey's case, jack in race's). their issues are easier to sweep away because 'they can handle it!' and they're constantly underestimated due to their circumstances. they're considered capable by their respective families, but not exceptional enough to pay much attention to. of COURSE davey sees that. maybe he tries not to see it - maybe that's why he wrote race off when they first met - but he can't ignore it for long. and i think that's why race is the one davey sings to the most during 'seize the day' - because davey recognizes that fear, that constant stress, that constant worry over your loved ones but the ever-present frustration of 'why am i supposed to be handling this? why do i have to take care of you? i'm a KID.' and i think davey also understands the feeling of never being able to express that, because how selfish would it be to just leave someone to their own devices? you HAVE to help. you have no choice.

i like to think that 'seize the day' is the turning point for both of them; davey recognizes race's vulnerability, race recognizes davey's bravery. both of these are aspects of them that are frequently ignored by the people closest to them - it must mean so much for someone to see that for the first time. and i think they both grow to respect each other a lot when the strike begins and they're both fighting to protect their brothers. you can really see the change in 'king of new york' - they're both very aware of each other's presence and when the singing starts, race is frequently running over to davey, jumping on his table, clapping his shoulders, ruffling his head, etc etc etc. RACE is the one who tosses davey the newspaper, and i think that action of RACE being the one to include davey in this group celebration is such a turning point for them. it's this declaration of 'we're together now. i'm with you and you're with me'; it's similar (in my opinion) to davey opening the paper and proudly showing off the headline to katherine when he says 'a regular beat for the star reporter!' after implying she's not a 'real' reporter. it's just really sweet to me. i also think 'am-scray punk!' despite being kind of rude is race's way of welcoming davey into the group - he's comfortable enough to rag on davey and davey seems confident enough to take it and roll his eyes at race's antics. i think that's something they appreciate about each other; race's ability to comfort people in the worst of times and davey's ability to see the truth behind his actions without needing to comment on it.

i like to imagine that in this understanding of each other, both characters are able to give the other what they need. i think davey would be able to take race seriously because - like some strange mirror of himself - he understands race, and would encourage him to share his fears, his vulnerabilities, etc etc. meanwhile i imagine race is one of the few people who'd back davey no matter what and trust his judgement and bravery. i find it so interesting that JPB's race yells 'davey did you know about this?!' when jack betrays the strike; trusting someone is difficult for race, and if being betrayed by his brother weren't bad enough, being betrayed by someone he didn't even WANT to trust at first would be salt in the wound. i also find it interesting that race seemed so hurt by the possibility of DAVEY betraying them despite not knowing davey very long and liking him for even less; if you'll let me be self indulgent and go back to inosculation for a bit, i think the strike and king of new york was the moment where the flesh met for them. where they finally saw each other and realized they could intertwine. the possibility of davey taking that all back would obviously be painful. race finally found someone who maybe, MAYBE sees him - and he's taking it all back.

of course, we see race realize that davey wasn't in on the betrayal, and i imagine they comfort each other in that regard. in every universe, whether it works out or not, i believe davey has strong feelings for jack, and i know race knows that. davey might THINK he's doing a good job at convincing race that he's upset in the same way he is, upset the way a guy who loses his brother is upset, but race knows it's not just that. we know race is far more insightful than people give him credit for. i like to think that's where racevid happens in this little universe of mine. they're both vulnerable and stressed and scared in ways only the other understands and they have no one else to express that to. they take comfort in that. i think maybe it starts as something impulsive, as that seems to me how race pursues pleasure - quickly and without much thought. this thing makes him happy? he needs it. now. he needs it right now or it'll go. obviously, that's not how davey does things. in my head, they have one big impulsive teary kiss that starts pretty badly and gets better as it goes on - and it DOES go on - and then in their panic they leave each other without a word and put those masks back on, the second in command and the responsible eldest son. i don't think they talk they about it. they just can't bring themselves to. but they know they can't lose each other right now. they have to hang on.

it is now 10PM and i have more for this but god this is so long and it's so late and i'm so tired so i will continue my less canon-supported racevid thoughts when i can 'cause. i really love those two very much.

#'but what about javid-' he can have both. as a treat. as a funny little treat. #undescribed1mage #ask #racevid #i'm not using 'ravey' okay racevid just sounds nicer. #racetrack higgins #davey jacobs #uksies #newsies

[kneelbeforeclefairy]

Newsies fandom, you know what I love about you? Most of you, I imagine, are not from NYC. I venture most of you haven't been here. And you talk about all these places and neighborhoods and landmarks in your fics and headcanons....and you can tell some of you have done your research (EXHAUSTIVLY) and some toss numbered street names at things and call it a day. (Which is FINE by the way. ) And new york has changed SO much since 1899. Newsies square is long gone, the streets themselves have been changed, buildings have been demolished. But you can tell you're all trying to get the FLAVOR of the city down, and who's to say who's wrong or right, when so much time has passed. And these places are just names to you, so everyone interprets what Central Park and the Bowery and the harbour feel like to them, and everyone's got their own ideas, and it's kind of amazing seeing the differentiations and people making headcanons about my beloved city, both today and a hundred years ago. No two are alike.

But what I LOVE. is that all of you. Every single one of you. Has gotten Brooklyn right. I don't know if the movie and/or musical does a good job at selling the VIBE or if everyone just arrives on the same conclusion. Brooklyn is....well it's like that.

Brooklyn is the Texas of boroughs. It used to be its own city, and it hasn't forgotten that. If Brooklyn detached from the rest of NYC it would be the fourth most populace city in the US. Brooklyn has more people than any other borough. It has more people than some STATES. And every single one of those people is batshit insane. Everything in Brooklyn is batshit insane. You either love Brooklyn or you hate it. It's full of people who are either tenth generation brooklynites, or transplants from two years ago, but they all defend their borough thoroughly. They see the world through the eyes of Brooklyn. Some don't like to leave it too often. Every single one of them would object on the grounds of Brooklyn.

And no one else wants to GO to Brooklyn, it's just too damn far, and no matter how you slice it you have to go through another borough to get there, especially from Queens which is GOD DANM ATTACHED, so you wind up never interacting with Brooklyn. And it's not like there's nothing there. Brooklyn is pretty cool sometimes. There's SHIT out there. But every time you go there you gotta take a ridiculous journey on multiple trains, or a bus across a bridge, or WALK ACROSS A BRIDGE or take a fucking ferry? Which is a thing now? Which is cool? I guess? But it's still a fucking ferry and who has time for that unless you already live near a ferry stop. And an hour and a half later you've moved ten miles and you're in fucking BROOKLYN and there's an independent coffee shop, a bougie bakery, and a Catholic church, and if you take ONE WRONG turn you wind up in the creepy part of Brooklyn, which is actually all parts of Brooklyn, sandwiched in between the gentrification, and there you will find a series of creepy warehouses with graffiti that runs from God damn art to mildly disturbing for reasons you can't explain. And no matter how deep you go there will be an Italian guy to yell at you.

And every time I GO to Brooklyn, which I endevor not to do, I have a good time, don't get me wrong, but some Brooklyn shit happens. What is Brooklyn shit? I can't describe it. Brooklyn shit. Everything that happens in Brooklyn is so FUCKING Brooklyn. I've been to Brooklyn more in the past month than I have been all year, and every time I go to Brooklyn, some Brooklyn shit happens, and I come out like a war veteran going "I'm not afraid of Brooklyn....it's just everything in it that makes me nervous."

#this rant brought to you by the logistics of getting a bunch of people to brooklyn #Newsies #new york city #this isnt even really about newsies but it sorta is

[tarynisbunhead]

Alright so back in November I had someone contact me over on Zazzle, back when I had the calendars up for sale. They liked my restored/colorized images and were impressed by my research on the newsies and movie stars.  They asked for an interview, I did some research and discovered this person released articles for The Oregonian, so I accepted.  This person, Tom, is a journalist and did several interviews in the past, so why the hell is it that an interview he set up, he forgot?  We rescheduled the next day and......phone reception was trash, which he knew that location had that problem but went anyway.  To be honest, I wanted to just call it off because I had better things to do than sit and wait for this fool to maybe call for another interview, but my ex was excited with the idea of me being interviewed so I agreed to reschedule.  On the third day, Tom and I were able to get the interview done.  We talked about my restoration work, my work as a historian and in silent film.  I didn’t like that when we started talking about my job as a historian he kept bringing up other people, and talked like they knew history 1000x better than I did.  I know what I know and continue to learn everyday, what the hell?  Anyway, before parting ways he let me know he'd keep me posted.  That never happened.

January rolled around and I contacted Tom, asking how things were going.  He told me The Oregonian wasn't interested in my story because Longview was too far away......................what?  Okay first of all The Oregonian has run tons of stories on colorizers and their work over the years, why would mine be any different?  Second, my location has literally nothing to do with my art.  So if The Oregonian rejected my story, I don't believe it was for THAT reason.  In fact, I don’t believe the newspaper rejected me IF they were told about me because my hometown is celebrating 100 years, that would be an opportunity I would think.  So I’m just putting it out there that Tom never told The Oregonian about my story.  Tom did assure me he had another ace up his sleeve, there was a magazine he was affiliated with called Old Stuff Magazine.  And again he went silent.  Why am I the one who constantly has to contact him?

Last night I sent an email that basically asked "It's been seven months, you had a plan, what's going on?"  As angry as I was, I didn't use nasty language or hostile wording, just came right to the point.  Tom took it way too personal, and at the same time exposed himself in his response.  He said that he pursued the story as far as he could.......okay if you hit a dead end why not just contact me and be fucking honest about it?  Say "Hey sorry but I can't find anyone who wants to print the story" but instead there was this need to hide information from me.  He then went on to say he offered my story to publishers pro bono out of respect to my work - Are you serious right now?!  Pro bono means free of charge, you didn't even get in touch with me and discuss that!  Also what publishers did you talk to?  So far the only places you've told me about are The Oregonian and Old Stuff Magazine, so unless you give me business names you're straight up lying.  Holy shit I know the scam, I used to tell my parents "I went to stores and asked for applications", that really meant I went to two stores.  Oh and then he ended it with "Some stories just don't pan out.  Given the tone of your message, this will definitely be one of them."  In other words, he got caught putting my story on the back burner and doing nothing with it.  All I did was ask a question, no hostility or profane language and Tom went full blown unprofessional by trying to make it out like I attacked him and he's the victim.  Fuck off dude.  It’s been seven fucking months.

I found his Facebook two months ago and he posts a bunch of newspaper related memes, from Superman to anime.  He also posts about going on assignment, on location, and there's posts of him going on family outings but there's NEVER talk about meetings with publishers.  Asshole got caught, he's not a victim in this at all.  How many months did it take for those other assignments to get released?  Probably not seven months.  All he had to do was contact me and let me know the truth, like a fucking professional but he didn’t do that. I thought about contacting The Oregonian, but they'd probably side with him and it'd be a huge waste of my time.  Anyway, here's what NOT to do if you're a journalist.

#journalism #The Oregonian #journalism nightmare

[saidrolav]

🐧

Hi! I was wondering if I could be matched up with a Stranger Things character, I tend to ramble a lot so if this goes on for a while well that’s just me being kinda rambly and long winded.

My appearance is that I’m short, I’m 5’3, I’m pudgy mostly due to my love of sweets and food. I prefer to wears pastels and brighter colors. I have shoulder length kinky curly hair and I usually pull it back into a bun so that it doesn’t get into my face when I’m writing. I wear glasses as well! I have light blue eyes as well as a shit ton of freckles.

My personality is as my friends would tell me that I’m that one ray of sunshine in the darkness, they also compare me a lot to Samwise from Lord Of The Rings. I’m a lover of reading books when I have the time, writing a lot of the time as well. I also LOVE film, I’m sure that my brain is 85% movie quotes at this point so I reference random movie lines and I’m sure that I could have full on conversations in movie quotes one of these days hopefully with my future partner. I love musical theater, it’s one the biggest parts of my personality. Whether that be movies or actual physical musical theater. I listen to a lot of cast albums on a loop depending on my mood for what I enjoy listening to (my favorite is Newsies though). Basically what you need to know about my personality is that I love anime, cartoons, film, and musicals.

Music is a bit weird for me I love a lot of 80’s stuff and that’s where a majority of my icons lived. Elton John has been my favorite singer since I was 10, Rush has been my favorite band for the last year. Basically if there’s a band that speaks to the misfits I’m a fan of them Queen, Fleetwood Mac, and Stray Cats as well!

I’m a cat person but I love animals more than anything. I have so many dream cat names but Merry and Pippin are two of the biggest ones for sure.

Hopefully this was enough information to work with!

Hiii Thanks for asking a 🐧!! You're a big Elton John fan AND a musical fan so you're my friend now. 👁👄👁 I ship you with..

Eddie Munson!

He would definitly steal your glasses to try them on and go like "Does it fit me ?" While tilting his head 😭😭 You guys would spent houuuurs at his place just watching movies for hours and listening to music as you eat sweets

He's not so much into musicals but he'll definitly love to see you get excited about it and he'll listen to it with you even tho he doesent understand a thing 🤙

In the futurr you'll definitly have a tons of cats (black cats are his favourites) and you'll obviously call two of those Merry and Pippin

#stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things season four #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things ships #🐧

[miryum]

Nickels (Spot Conlon x Reader)- Part 10

I would just like to repeat that this will NOT follow the story-line. (Mostly because I'm to lazy to rewatch the movie...) so yeah! Hope you enjoy!

I dropped down from the statue in the middle of newsie square, right in front of Spot, Jack, and Davey. It'd been a couple of weeks since that night, and the strike was in full swing. Almost all the newsies were there, and we're about to negotiate a deal with Pulitzer.

"'Ello boys." I said, smirking.

"Hey Nickels!" I turn around to see Les, a younger newsies that I'd gotten to know quite well. He'd guessed my secret early into me meeting him, and was now one of the few newsies that knew I was a girl. He was an energetic little guy, and full of fire. He was like a little brother to me.

"Heya buddy!" I scoop Les up, "'Ow ya doin'? 'Elpin' Jackie boy wid da strike?"

"Oh yes!" He said, "I even went to visit Emerson da odder day."

I pulled his cap over his eyes, "Good job." Whenever I couldn't visit Emerson, I sent another newsie to. However, when Emmie met Les, they immediately hit it off and became best buddies.

"And 'ow is your boyfriend doin'?" I asked Les.

He blushed and shoved away from me, "It's not like dat." He mumbled. I started cracking up.

I turned back to Spot, Jack, and Davey. "You're really good with him." Davey smiled.

"Eh." I shrugged, "I'se had ta deal wid Emmie my 'ole life."

"So!" I slung an arm over Spot and Jack, the former slinging an arm around my waist, "'Ow we feelin' 'bout Pulitzer?"

"'E betta gives us what we's wants, odder wise we's not lettin' go." Jack said.

"What deal we're gonna make wid 'im?" I asked hesitantly.

"Whateva he wants. Odder dan da prices stayin' da same." Spot said.

"Great." I said, "I'se just gonna wait on da roof 'till it's over."

"Why?" Spot tightened his arm around my waist.

I looked over at him, "I'se don't need 'im knowin' I'm a goil."

"'E won't know!" Spot argued, "Davey didn' know 'til yous showed 'im, and 'e's da smart one!"

"Thanks?" Davey asked, "Was that a compliment?"

"Spot." My jaw clenched, "I'm gonna go now."

Spot grunted, but let his arm fall from my waist. I turned to disappear into the crowd, when the doors to Pulitzer's office banged open, and out strode Pulitzer himself.

"Shit." I swore and pulled my cap down low. I ducked a little bit behind Spot.

I peeked out from behind Spot to see the rest of the newsies silent and Pulitzer looking over us all. As if he was searching for something. Thank the Lord I had Emerson stay at the lodging house today.

"Newsies of New York!" Pulitzer called out, "It has come to my attention that you are unsatisfied with the new price raise. I am here today to discuss this. Who is the one that would like to stand before me and tell me what they would like me to do better?"

Everyone was silent for a second before Jack stepped forward, "Me." He said.

"And me." Spot stepped up next to him, leaving me uncovered.

I felt Pulitzer's eyes land on me and burn into my skin, "And what about you, young lad? Do you dare to step forth against me?"

"Of course I do." I said, stepping up next to Spot. I raised my head a little to look Pulitzer in the eyes.

I saw a look of recognition and confusion flash before them, but he was smart enough not to say anything until he was certain.

"And what are your terms, Jack?" Pulitzer asked.

"You lower da prices." Jack said and a chorus of shouts followed him.

"And what will you give me in return?"

Jack paused. He hadn't thought this far ahead, "What do ya want?" He asked, still trying to appear tough.

Pulitzer smirked, "My children."

***

"What?" Jack said, "What's do ya mean? We don't got your kids!"

"Oh, but you do." Pulitzer stepped into the crowd of newsies, none of us moving an inch. "Let me tell you a story. As you know, I have seven children. Kathrine, Herbert, Edith, Lucille, Constance, Ralph.... and Y/n." I felt Spot tense up beside me. I lowered my gaze.

"At a young age," Pulitzer continued, "Ralph and Y/n ran away from home. It was devastating, and we searched everywhere for them. But, we never found them. Until, I got a tip that Ralph had changed his name and was lording over the Bronx newsies. I was relived that we'd found him, and proud that he was commanding a battalion of newsies- especially one as big as the Bronx! I understood why we couldn't find him for the longest of time now. He had changed his name so that no one would recognize him. It made sense as he was the most well known of my children, and my eldest son. But... we still hadn't found Y/n. Then, someone saw a lone newsie sneak into the Bronx lodging house. A newsie..." Pulitzer came up behind me and leaned over me. I closed my eyes as a shiver went down my spine.

"A newsie," Pulitzer repeated, "By the name of Nickels."

He took my cap off my head and my hair fell down over my shoulders. He grabbed my arm and dragged me in front of the rest of the newsies.

"Meet my daughter, Y/n!"

#spot conlon #spot conlon x reader #spot #newsies #newsboys #1898 new york #new york #x reader #1898 #jack kelly #davey #les #joseph pulitzer

[i-write-newsies]

A/N:

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(D/N) - DEEZ NUTS!! /j Deadname

(E/C) - Eye Color

(H/L) - Hair Length

(Y/A) - Your Age

Ships Included:

- Jack x Davey

- Spot x Race

- Finch x Smalls (Platonic)

- Albert x Elmer

-Katherine x Sarah

- Spot x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

- Race x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

Summary:

You have always dreamed of living in the world of your favorite characters, to escape from whatever rotten life you have and make friends with the people you love. One day, fate decides to give you a chance. But when you're not prepared to be rushed into that universe, it becomes a roller coaster of balancing good and bad emotions and events.

Good luck, Reader!

!!TW!!

~ SELF HARM

~ TRANSPHOBIA

~ MAJOR INJURY

~ ABUSE

~ ARGUING

(Y/N) POV:

I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I'm (Y/A) with (E/C) eyes and (H/L) (H/C) hair. At least it used to be (H/L). I cut it all off today. I can tell my mom just found out because of the loud cursing and stomping. "GODDAMMIT, (D/N)!!" she yells. What scares me the most about this situation is the fact that I'm kinda used to this. I hear her coming up the stairs to my room and rush to the door and lock it. As expected, the door handle starts rattling violently, "(D/N) YOU LET ME IN RIGHT NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SH!T!" She starts banging on the door, stressing the lock.

I sigh. Today was one of the worse days. I slip on my noise-canceling headphones and press play on my musicals playlist, consisting of:

- Waving Through A Window

- On My Own

- A Little Fall Of Rain

- Angel of Music

and of course...

The entire Newsies soundtrack.

By the time I get to 'Seize the Day', it's twilight outside. I lift one of my headphones to check if my mom is gone. I hear nothing. I look out the window and don't see her car. Perfect.

Unplugging my headphones and letting the music play, I walk over to my dresser, open it up, and reach deep in the back. Aha!

I pull out some bandages (A/N: DO NOT ACTUALLY BIND LIKE THIS OK BYE). I take off my shirt and try not to look in my mirror, fearing what sort of feminine body I may see. I start wrapping my chest to the point that it gets a little hard to breathe. This kinda hurts, but my dysphoria is stronger than my need for comfort and, let's be honest, safety.

Slipping my shirt back on, I look into the mirror and smile, satisfied with my flat chest and somewhat choppy short, (H/C) hair. I jump onto my bed and plug my headphones back into my phone which is now playing Santa Fe. Santa Fe honestly makes me think. I'm only, what, (Y/A)? And I still go through all this BS. I need out. Somewhere my mom can't tell me I'm female. Somewhere like...Newsies. I mean, Race is canonically trans, right? Not to mention all of them are definitely fruity. They'd accept me. The fresh, bandaged cuts on my arms are the only things keeping me in reality right now

As the song ends, I realize that I've been crying. God, why am I stuck in this wretched place? The question as well as thoughts of Newsies reverberates in my skull, a sort of white noise until I fall into a much-needed sleep.

"Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?"

"Especially in a place this..."

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

Jack POV:

I yawn, rubbing sleep from my eyes as the circulation bell drones on an' on. I let my eyes adjust to the view of the sunrise from my penthouse in the sky.

As I try to get up to get ready, a pair of arms drag me back down. "Jackieeee" a half-awake Davey groans, "come back down, it's freezing up here." "Dave, we gotta get to work. The boys can always count on me being at the gates early, so if you don't get up, I'm leaving you behind." This seems to wake him up a little more, "Alright, alright fine." he shivers as he gets up. I throw him his top shirt and vest and he desperately claws them on to gain warmth. Carefully, we climb down the ladder.

"What'd I tell ya, Dave? Even in the middle of summer, the night's always freezing." Davey rolls his eyes and does a little shiver "I know, Jackie, now c'mere and warm me up" I grin and move in closer, holding his hand, as we start walking to the gates. "Still not warm enough!" Davey said in a singsong-ish voice. I sigh and feign annoyance, leaning in to give a short but sweet peck on the lips. I think he's satisfied now. We're not usually this lovey-dovey, but I think we're both touch starved and subtly begging for a hug.

Davey, being the amazing boyfriend he is, stops by Jacobis to get us some breakfast. "Dave, you really don't hafta-" "I insist, Jack. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he says in an almost snobbish voice. I give him a small smile. That's my smartass Dave.

As we get to the gates, I notice a small figure leaned up against it. By now, the sun has come up some more over Manhattan 'n Dave 'n I don't have to walk as close to warm ourselves up. The figure seems to be sleeping, a newsies cap over their eyes. I think it's a kid. Maybe a new newsie looking for work?

I crouch down in front of him lift his hat, and start tapping his shoulder, "Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?" "Especially in a place this..." Davey notes. The kid seems to wake with a start. He rubs his eyes, and I chuckle a little "Whatsa matter? Ya look like youse seen a ghost." He doesn't seem to find this funny and repeatedly switches from looking at me then Davey with some confusion and shock in his eyes.

"I um-" he stutters over his words, "Aye, aye, kid, calm down, you ain't in trouble or nuttin." He takes a few deep breaths. "Okay... I'm (Y/N). I'm just freaking out because This isn't where I fell asleep, and- and I just- feel like I know you..." "Well, (Y/N) it sounds like you're one of da Newsies now," I say with a grin, "Now, we gots ta give you a nickname, we rarely eva call someone by their real name, 'cept Dave 'n Albert of course," The kid stays silent, clearly still shocked from waking up in a foreign place. "I feel like I know you.." he says, barely discernible. "Maybe ya do, maybe ya don't, Dave here's the only one good with faces." The kid looks up at Davey, who seems deep in thought, "(N/N)" he exclaims, "Ah, sorry, what I meant was your nickname should be (N/N)!" "I like it! But why (N/N) exactly?" I question, "Well, *insert reason why here*" "Well ain't you a clever boy, Dave!" I say, ruffling his hair. Davey shies away, "Jack! Now I have to fix my hair!" he complains, "Sorry, sorry." Davey then leaves to fix his hair in front of a shop window nearby, leaving me and (N/N) alone.

(N/N) seems to want to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he shuts it just as quickly. I try to fill the awkward silence, "So, what's wit' da bandages, kiddo?" He freezes, "Nothing, just a ploy to get people to buy more papes..." he trails off. I have a feelin' he's not tellin' the truth, but I go along with it anyway, "Ha! What an idea, I wonder how I neva thought a' that before." he smiles, seeming satisfied with the praise. Davey returns from the shop window, "Alright! Ready to start the day?" (N/N) nods, and so do I.

Newsies start gathering, some glancing at (N/N) and some anxiously peering through the gates. I look at the headline for today: New Newsie Price! "Aye, Dave, you seein' this shit?" "Language- and yeah... what in the world was runnin' through Pulitzer's head when he thought of this??" I look at (N/N), whose mouth is a thin, pale line but whose (E/C) eyes are glinting with determination. "Heh, kid, what's that look for?" He looks at me, a little startled, but quickly regains that same tough expression, "I have a feeling that this ain't some silly little joke. And I'm worried 'bout the kids that may get hurt in the crossfire." I laugh, "Youse just bein dramatic! Surely, they wouldn't be as dumb as to underpay their own employees." I walk over to Weasel and slap down a penny "100 papes please!" "That's gonna be dime, Kelly."

My heart almost stops, and it takes all my strength not to break down in front of the boys. I fake a laugh, "Surely you're joking." "100 papes costs a dime, take a look at the headline." I hit the money box out of anger, "Then we'll just take our business to Brooklyn." Someone pipes up, "The same thing's happenin' there." "Then we'll go to Rushing!" Specs jogs over, seemingly out of breath, "I'll save ya the walk; it's the same everywhere."

Fuck.

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Y/N POV:

A sharp pain in my chest temporarily distracts me from the situation at hand. Ah. I almost forgot. I still have to bind. This sucks. I feel a pair of eyes on me and turn just in time to see Racetrack Higgins avert his eyes. I give him a confused look and turn back to Jack singing "The World Will Know" I forget all about his weird staring and get back into the determined beat from before.

Soon, the newsies and I make our way to Jacobis for some...water I guess? I do happen to have some extra money in my pocket so I think I can treat all the boys to some seltzer. I sit down on a hard wooden chair in a slouch. The room is buzzing with excited talk of the strike. I give a small, sad smile. These boys have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Crutchie sits next to me serving a wide smile just as Jacobi enters with a tray full of waters, "And here's one for you, and for you, and for you- who's the big spender that ordered everyone seltzer?" shyly, I raise my hand, "That's me, sir." "You know these cost a quarter each, right?" I pull out a handful of quarters with a cheeky smile "and I got more where that came from." The boys go wild, "Where did ya get all that money, kid??" Davey, being the concerned mom, asks "Please tell me you didn't steal that." I shake my head, "I used to live comfortably, but my mom kicked me out for...reasons." my grin falters for a second, but no one seems to notice.

"Well!" Jack stands on a table, "Here's to the strike! And, of course, (N/N)" He gestures towards me with a wink as everyone cheers. As Katherine enters, I start to zone out and stare at a speck of dust on the ground. After all, I know the plot all too well. I perk up, though, as soon as Jack asks who's goin' to Brooklyn. My hand shoots up, "I nominate me and Race!" I exclaim. I look over at Race, who's staring at me, blushing and jaw dropped a little. I grin at him and look back at Jack, who's a little shocked. "A-alright! Me and Dave'll take the Bronx, I guess."

*Timeskip to after the restaurant scene*

I walk down the Manhatten alleys blindly, no clue where I'm going, when I hear someone come up behind me. "Hey, (N/N)! It's me, Race." I smile weakly, "Oh, hey." "I always sell my papes at Sheepshead in Brooklyn, so I know where to go."

It's almost completely silent except for the clicking of our shoes on the paved roads. "So... how'd ya get here as a Newsie, (N/N)?" "Well, Jack 'n Davey found me sleepin' on the street just this mornin'" He laughs, "Wow! So you got used to the Newsie life real quick!" "Yeah, I did.." I let out a small chuckle as well. Race pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his lips and goes to light it but hesitates. "Uh- Wanna cigar?" "Wow, Racetrack Higgins giving me one of his own cigars? I'm flattered!" I joke, "But, yeah, I need smoke." He digs into his pocket and hands me another cigar, "You eva' smoked before?" he stares at me as I put the cigar in between my lips. I grin sheepishly, "No." "Okay, maybe we should stop for a second. Coughing while walking ain't the most fun thing in the woild."

We lean up against a wall as Race lights first his, then my cigar. I inhale and immediately spiral into a coughing fit. Race smacks my back, "You good, (N/N)? I ain't neva' seen a fella cough that hard on the first puff." I roll my tear-filled eyes and continue coughing.

Once my coughing fit subsides, I feel a wave of relaxation. "God I should do this more often." I groan, Race grins, "Yeah, once you get past the whole blowin'-your-brains-out part of smokin', it's real nice. Anyway, shall we continue?" he gestures to the streets ahead. I nod my head and take another puff, "Yeah, it's gettin' kinda late and we do NOT wanna wake up the Spot Conlon." Race nods in agreement and we hurry along. Even though I know Spot is kind of a softie, that doesn't stop me from being intimidated by his prowess.

We reach the Brooklyn lodging just as Race's cigar burned out. Race takes a deep breath and gives three solid knocks on the door. A kid younger than me answers the door, "State ya business" "I'm here to let Conlon know about some very important news." The kid squints his eyes but responds "I'll ask him if he's willing to meet with anyone right now. Who should I tell him is askin'?" "Race. Higgins." He says somewhat awkwardly.

The kid closes the door. Race and I stand quietly waiting for the OK to see Spot. Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Spot. "Ra-" he notices me and coughs, "I mean- Higgins, would you like to step in to discuss the important news?" I almost laugh at the way he went from totally in love to distinguished gentleman. I shoo them away, holding in laughter, "don't worry, I'll wait out here and give you lovebirds some space." (A/N: or should I say sprace) I see them both go tomato red.

I sigh as they head inside. I take a drag from the cigar and start thinking. How did I end up in the newsies universe and act this calm about it? This feels so surreal. But I want to stay here forever. Far away from my sh!tty mom and all my responsibilities.

Lost in my own head, I barely notice as Racetrack storms out of the lodging, clearly pissed. "C'mon (N/N), we're leaving." he grabs my hand and angrily powerwalks to the next street over. Once we're there, he lets go of my hand and sighs harshly, walking slow. "I assume it didn't go well?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Not. Well." "Wanna talk about it?" he shakes his head and starts walking "No, thanks. I think we's better get to bed before Jack gets worried." he stops. "Do you have a place to sleep?" I look down, "Not really..." "Well!" he grabs my hand again with a big grin, "Looks like youse bunkin' wit' me." I start to protest, but realize it'd get me nowhere with this stubborn SOB, so I let myself get dragged along. Oh, well. I might as well get rest for the strike tomorrow, goodness knows I need it.

As I settle down into the rough sheets, the gentle snoring rocks me to sleep with thoughts of the strike. One thought flashes through my mind before I fall asleep; God help us all.

I wake up to someone poking my face. My eyes flutter open and I almost fall off the bunk at the sight of Race's face right in front of mine. "JESUS CHRIST, RACE, YOU SCARED THE SH!T OUTTA ME!" He backs off, putting his hands up in surrender, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that Jack said you had to be up and out in 10 minutes so we can have an organized strike or whateva'" Race rolls his eyes, "I'm startin' ta think that Davey's rubbin' off on 'im a lil' too much."

I groan, tempted to slide back under the covers, but get up anyway. I slept with my clothes on so I don't have to do anything about that. As I look into an old, rusted mirror and comb my fingers through my now tangled hair, I feel another sharp pain in my chest, accompanied by a dull throbbing. I really should have taken off the bandages while I slept, but now it's too late. I take one last look in the mirror and, ignoring my eyebags, quickly head out the door to join the others. As I get to the gate, everyone's waiting with anticipation, faces grim but hopeful.

Everything happens in a blur. One moment we're striking, and the next we're beaten into a pulp. I manage to soak a Delancey in the eye when suddenly a familiar sharp pain fills my chest and wince, faltering. Morris takes this as an opportunity to knee me in the stomach, forcing me to the ground, where their take turns kicking my chest and body with those damn steel-toed boots of theirs until my clothes are torn and the cuts on my arms reopen. Suddenly, there's a small crack as my body swells up with pain and the taste of metal enters my mouth. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the pain registers in my brain. In my blurred vision, I see the Delancey's walk away, ready to torture their next victim; Crutchie.

I try to get up and reach out, try to scream at them not to hurt him, but all I can do is weakly move my hand in their direction and spit out blood. Suddenly, a small but rough hand reaches out and drags me into an alley. "Dammit, (N/N) what were you thinking?! Fighting in a gawddamn binder, and a makeshift one, no less!" "R-..Race..?" "Not now, (N/N) I have ta get youse to safety foist." I watch as he chews on his nails in thought, "Dammit! The only way back to tha lodge is through the Delancey's again!" He sighs. "Brooklyn it is..." He gingerly picks me up and carries me as fast as possible to Spot's turf.

Setting my feet on the ground and propping me up against him, he bangs on the door. "Spot!" Please! This is serious, I need your help!" I can hear the tears in his voice. Spot flings open the door, obviously very concerned. He's confused for a second, then looks at me and his eyes go wide. "GET THE MED KIT AND A COT OPEN, WESE GOT SOMETHING HORRIBLE THAT'S HAPPENED" he yells behind him. Race, now more calmed down, takes me in his arms again, but seems to refuse to look at Spot, who looks away as well, but more in shame.

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Race POV:

I watch as some of the Brooklyn newsies take (N/N) and lay him on a cot, anger surging through my veins. I take a deep breath "I'll take care of him. You guys don't have to worry about it." As they leave the room, I look down at (N/N) and can't help but feel guilty. Like this is my fault. I only got away with a black eye, but he got all this?

I regain my composure and start by taking (N/N) shirt off. I can already see the bruises starting to form and cringe. I take off his binding bandages and see his chest expand immediately. Poor kid. He must have been hurting in more way that just one. I take the gauze from the wooden box and gently wrap his torso with it. Maneuvering around his arms, I notice something. The bandages on him arms. When he was wearing them before, Jack said it was a marketing ploy, but now I see red bleeding through the white gauze.

I unwrap (N/N)'s arms and gasp. Hundreds of tiny, but deep cuts litter his forearms and wrists. F#ck. He was hurting so much more than I could have ever known. I wrap them with fresh gauze and treat the rest of his wounds, stepping back to admire my handiwork. That's when I start to cry. Full-on tears falling, face in hands crocodile tears. I turn my head with a start to see Spot, standing over me with a hand on my shoulder, looking apologetic "I'm so sorry..." Suddenly this sadness turns to rage. I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him outside to an empty alleyway. "SORRY?? SORRY, MY 4SS! (N/N) AND SO MANY OTHER 'HATTEN NEWSIES ALMOST DIED OUT THERE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN UNTIL YOU KNEW WE WOULDN'T "CAVE" WELL, WE DIDN'T CAVE, AND LOOK WHAT F#CKING HAPPENED! AND DONT YOU SAY SORRY TO ME AND EXPECT ME TO FORGIVE YOU JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THAT'S FOR CROW TO DECIDE." Spot seemed silent at first, but now I could see his anger building up; "WADDAYA THINK WOULD O' HAPPENED TO MY BOYS, HUH?? I WANTED TO WAIT TO SEE IF WE WOULD BE THE ONLY ONES FIGHTIN IN THIS BATTLE AGAINST PULITZER."

I open my mouth then close it. He has a fair point, but doesn't he trust me and the udda newsies not to bail in their hour of need? I sigh, pinching my nose. "I'm sorry Spot, I just-... I just wish you trusted me a bit more..." I look up at him to see tears in his eyes. "OH, SPOT HONEY, ITS OKAY, I'M NOT MAD, DON'T CRY, DON'T CRY" I shush him, pulling his head into my chest, which isn't tough considering his height.

As he lets go, the adrenaline rush from today dies down. God, I'm so tired. My knees nearly buckle and Spot notices, "Aye, aye! Tony, you doin' okay?" I nod at him, but the bags under my eyes are making them droop, "Race, honey, you need to get some sleep, okay?" I shake my head but soon fall into Spot's arms as my legs give way. "Fine..." I mumble. I can feel him grinning, "Good, we gots an extra bed for youse to sleep in." I sigh, grateful. I can feel Spot picking me up, the rhythm of his boots tapping along the ground, a pause and shift as he opens the lodging door and kicks it closed behind him as I fall asleep.

I wake up in a cold sweat. (N/N). I need to see (N/N). I need to check if he's okay. I climb out of the bed Spot laid me in and let my eyes adjust to the dark before maneuvering around all the other sleeping kids. I make my way as quietly as possible to where (N/N) is resting. I crouch down and take his hand in mine. How could I let this happen? And how did I not notice his suffering? I press the back of his hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My body is so tired right now, but my mind is too tortured with guilt to let me sleep.

By the time my thoughts finally leave me alone, the sun is rising in the sky. I'm finally drifting when- "Race?" I turn my head to the voice, "Oh, jesus, you look horrible!" Spot exclaims, "did you even get any sleep last night?" I shrug, to be fair, I lost count of the hours. Spot sighs, "Race...go sleep. At least for a few more hours. I can watch (N/N) if that makes you happy," I nod, rubbing my eyes. I stumble back to my bed amongst all the Brooklyn newsies and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

My mind dreams of talkin' cigars and bloody bandages. I see Crow propped up against the wall, smokin' a cigar. "(N/N)! (N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so happy that you're okay!" (N/N) doesn't answer, I slowly starts walking towards him, "(N/N)...?" he starts laughing. Softly at first then roaring, and the laughing turns into a heavy coughing fit. As (N/N) coughs, red smoke pours out of his lungs and clouds my vision. I swipe at the air, trying to brush away the fog, "(N/N)?? (N/N), where did you go?!" suddenly, the smoke clears and I see (N/N) bruised, damaged, bleeding body at my feet, I gasp and step back. (N/N) slowly turns to face me, and in a painful, teary, almost sickly whisper asks, "Why did you let this happen?" Tears start spilling down my face, "I- I didn't me-" "You did this to me Race. Race. Race. Race! Race! RACE! RACE!--

Spot POV:

--RACE WAKE UP!" He wakes up with a gasp. He looks around wildly, tears dripping from his chin. I've never seen him like this. He must care for him like a brudda. To be honest, I'm worried as well, not only about (N/N) but now that we know 'Hatten isn't gonna back down and we join the fight, what's gonna happen to the newsies in general? Kids could get hoit. Bad.

"Spot?" Race starts sobbing, clinging to my shirt fabric, "Please...tell me it'll be okay..." I can't. Race, I don't know if it will. I almost start sobbing on the Spot ( A/N: heh...), but I hold my composure and smile at him, "It'll be okay, Tony...we're all gonna be fine" He seems to believe this, at least a little bit. "Now, don't you gotta meet up wit' da udda newsies?" He retracts his head from my chest, eyes wide. In a nasal voice, he goes "AW SHOOT, I 'MOST FORGOT" I watch him with a small smile as he rushes to get dressed like the goof he is. God, I love 'im.

Race POV:

Silence. I got there too early. Fuck. I can't just be alone with my thoughts, but at least I have some extra money to... I don't know? I walk up to the bar, where the owner of Jacobi's is cleaning out glasses. I sigh and sit down, "Got anything to help forget? At least for a little while...?"

"Ain't you a little too young for that, kid?" I give him a look and push my money over the counter to him. He quietly collects it, "So what can I get ya?" I'm silent for a bit "Fireball." I say with some demand in my voice. He disappears behind the counter and comes back with some shot glasses and a Fireball bottle, pouring it out into the glasses as I watch. I notice as he sighs, "Feel betta, kid." Can't promise that.

I pick up a shot glass, watching as the orange liquid spins around in it. I take in a breath of spicy cinnamon before letting the liquid slip down my throat, leaving a trail of a burning sensation. Soon, one turns into another, and another, and another and before I could comprehend it, the room starts to spin and blur. Eventually, the room fills with newsies, mumblin' 'bout how crappy the strike went. I do my very best to fit in and not act drunk, but the time zooms by and I find myself singin' 'bout bein' the king o' new york. At some point in the blurry memory, Katherine suggests getting drunk and I throw my hands up and cheer. More free Fireball! But then she clarifies that it was a metaphor, to which I am very disappointed.

The rest whizzes past me and soon I'm stumblin' my way to Brooklyn. I knock heavily on the lodging door, then lean on it. Unexpectedly, the door opens and I'm left to fall flat on my face at the feet of my boyfriend, Spot Conlon. "Race! Darlin', you okay? Youse fell flat on ya face!" He extends a hand that I receive and pulls me up. I giggle, "Ahhhh, my Spotty! Always carin' 'bout uddas. Pshht! Yeah, I'm fiiiine." I flop my hand down to wave off his concern. He wrinkles his nose, "You reek of cinnamon....and alcohol." He widens his eyes and I let out anudda giggle, "Race! Tell me you didn't jus' get drunk!" he whines, I grin, "Okey, 'you didn't jus' get drunk'" I imitate him in a deep voice and he sighs, "Jesus Christ, Racer.." he grabs my hand pulls me inside, eventually laying me on a bed, face red with a giggling fit. "Goodnight, my liege," I giggle some more, "and you my Prince," he gives a small smile before covering me with a blanket. I fall asleep before it's up over my shoulders.

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I wake up with my head feeling like it's going to explode.

Fuck Life.

I groan and sit up. "Mornin' Sleepin' Beauty" Spot smirks and hands me a cup of water, "Shut the fuck up" I whine and grab the glass, "Ooh feelin' feisty today, huh?" I shoot him a look that could rot a squash with one gaze. He holds up his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, my bad," He shrugs. I sigh and take a sip of water, which turns into me chugging the whole thing. "You betta get ova this hangover fast, hon" I groan, not ready to do anything at all today, "We gots the meetin' wit' Jack."

End my life.

"No, I don't think I will," "fuuuuck did I say that out loud?" I let out a small wail, and Spot chuckles a little, though you can tell there's somethin' on his mind still, "Yeah, ya did sweetheart." I grumble something incomprehensible and look down, red. He smiles, "Get dressed and drink as much water as possible, okay? We can't have you hungover for the big meeting, right?" I nod...which causes my head to hurt. Ow.

I sigh and decide to take my sweet time getting dressed. This sucks. "Spotty!" I call, then cringe after a new wave of pain hits, he pokes his head through the door "Yeah?". "I don't have the energy to deal wit' all dese gawddamn bandages. Help me?" He blushes a bit but agrees to help me bind. All I focus on is not hurting my head again. Spot ties the bandages and stands back to admire his handiwork but quickly notices my cringin'. "Do you want somethin' cold?" he asks gently, I nod as gingerly as possible.

*Timeskip to after the newsies meet n greet bcuz I'm power-finishing this at 12am and my mental health is steadily declining*

My hand shakes as I bring a fresh, unlit cigar to my lips.

Jack. That sellout, that traitor.

A sharp pain knocks me out of my angry thoughts. Ah. I burned myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Racer.." says a gentle voice, "You okay? that's your 3rd cigar in the past 2 hours or so." I look up to see Finch leaning over me as I sit on the ground, a concerned look on his face, "You're gonna run out all too soon" I give a bitter laugh, "Yeah, I guess I will." Finch can see that there's not much he can do to help me. He gives a weak smile and turns to walk away.

I see Davey run off somewhere. I wonder where they're going? I sigh and turn my head back down to the ground. Who cares? Without a leader, the strike'll just fall apart and Pulitzer'll win. Who was I kidding when I bragged abt being da "King o' New York"? I'm just some nobody kid without a nickel to my name. The bigger guys always win, so what's with me tryin'?

Jack POV:

I can't let any more kids get in this much danger. I visited (N/N) today. I found out about all his... injuries, as well as whatever he was born as. He's been through so much before all this, he doesn't deserve it.

It's my fault for being so ignorant. For not noticing anything was goin' on. My fault for inciting this stupid strike. For getting all these kids hoit. and Crutchie...poor Crutchie, locked up in that godawful place. I know he ain't helpless, 'e's a cheeky little bastard, I'll give him that, but the Refuge breaks down even the biggest of smiles and smothers the brightest of people. I will never forget that hell I went through. I went in a cheeky fightin' kid with a deep, strong flame, and came out with the embers barely glowing. It took years just to spark it up again. I'm terrified as to what'll happen to him.

I lean over the railing of my penthouse, not even noticing as it shakes and squeaks, making way for a young boy a little younger den me. "-Jack! JACK!" "Jesus Christ, yeah??? Oh, it's you, Dave..." I look away shamefully, he's probably here to chew me out and tell me we're done and gone. "What the hell was that?" I wince, I knew it. "Waddya mean 'what the hell was that?'?" "You know what I mean, JACK KELLY." I'm fucked. "YOU BETRAYED US FOR MONEY?!" "I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT PRESSURED TO IF I WADN'T DEALIN' WIT' A FLAKER!" Davey gives a bitter laugh and balls up the front of my shirt in his fist, tugging me towards him. "Ohoho! And if I wasn't your 'best friend' you'd be lookin' at me through one swollen eye!" "Oh, yeah? Well, don't let that stop ya, huh? Gimme your best shot!" something soft roughly pressing against my lips. The only thought at the moment is; 'Well, this is new... and passionate, 'specially from Dave' there's a heavy, awkward silence.

I back away from him, knocking over my drawings in the process. One specific drawing rolls out seemingly by fate. It taps on Davey's shoe and he looks down. His eyes widen a little as he reaches down to get it. "Is this.. the Refuge?" he puts a hand over his mouth, "weren't you stuck here once? Rats, cockroaches everywhere, 6 kids to a bunk? Holy fuc- I mean fudge." If the moment weren't this tense, I might've laughed. "Jack..." I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready." I shake my head and he drops his arm understandingly. "Either way, we could use this. Heck..." Davey seems deep in thought before his face lights up, "We could make our own newspaper!" I look at him in disbelief, he notices, and speaks again "think about it, Jackie! Kath's a real talented writer! This art could change the perspective of hundreds! We could write to tell all the workin' boys to go on Strike tomorra'! And we could expose Snyder in the process!" Hey, that's not too bad..."But, Dave, how're we gonna print it?" His face falls, "I didn't think about it...we're banned from every printin' press in New York.."

Oh no. Ohhh no. "No. Noooo." I whine, Davey chuckles, amused "what?" "I know a printin' press that no one would ever think of!" Davey grins, "Then what are we waitin' for?" He puts my drawing back into the case, and slings it over his shoulder, getting ready to climb down. Suddenly, a thought strikes me, "Wait-" "Yeah?" "Dave- what are we exactly? Like I know how we act to each other n' everything, but we've never really said out loud what we are..." Davey giggles, "Jackie-" "No! Tell me right now, are we... in love? Boyfriends, I guess?? Or am I just something for your own experimentation?"

He cups my face in his hands, "Jackie..." he kisses my nose, "Of course I love you! And yes! We are in love! Dating! Boyfriends! Whichever way you want to define us!" Soon we're both grinning ear-to-ear and blushing. "Now!" he exclaims, hopping up, clearly on a high from the whole kiss and convo, "Let's get to it!" I laugh and stand up as well, following my over-enthusiastic boyfriend down the ladder. As Davey said; Let's get to it!

(Y/N) POV:

'My head hurts...' I think groggily. I try to open my eyes, but my vision is blurred and wonky. I sit up. Nevermind. Everything hurts. As my vision starts to clear, I see a very tired Spot Conlon sitting in a chair in the corner of whatever room I'm in rubbing sleep from his eyes. He fixates his eyes on me for a second, and I can see the sleepiness and confusion in his eyes turn into shock and joy. "(N/N)! Ohmygod! I'm so glad you'se awake!" I can see him go to wrap me in a bear hug before holdin' himself back after he remembers all my injuries. Wait. My injuries. "Does this mean you know about...?" I vaguely gesture to my arms and Spot nods sadly, "And..." I cringe and gesture to my chest, now only lightly bound with medical tape, but tighter than needed for a typical injury. I smile to myself. That must've been Race. He's like a perfect older brother, not only thinkin' about my physical health, but also my mental well-being.

Spot notices the look on my face and sees me lookin' down at my chest, he chuckles, "Yeah, Race decided on that. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible while you heal." I start grinning even harder. Spot spoke up again "Don't forget that even boys born seen as boys don't have perfectly flat chests, so binding as tight as you did wasn't necessary or safe, for that matter." I give him a look, is Spot really trying to be the cis savior right now? He gives me a look right back, "What? I know what I'm talking about." He lifts his shirt up to reveal two scars on his chest. I gasp, "But you're only *insert years/months* younger/older than me! How did you even know that this was an option, as well, how did you do it?" He smirks, pulling his shirt back down, "Thought so. Anyway, I don't really know. I needed them off desperately and randomly thought of it. As for the how, Buttons is AMAZING with scissors and blades. Like, scary amazing." He shivers. I blink. Damn.

He gives a shy grin "Do I really pass that well?" I look at him enviously "Of course! But... how do you look so...masculine?" "Well, I tried my best to copy the behavior of other boys I saw. And the whole working out didn't hurt." I nod, taking a mental note. Behavior, got it. Can't promise sticking to a workout, though. Spot scoots closer, taking my hand in his, "But the most important thing to understand is- behavior, body type, and a powerful reputation doesn't define being a true boy. What does is what's in here-" he taps my head, "-and here." he points to my heart. Spot looks me in my eyes, "You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes." I feel my eyes water, and Spot opens his arms to me with a sincere look. I fall into his arms and cry tears of joy. Spot and Race are the older brothers I never had, helping me at every fork in the road of my transition.

(A/N: I noticed that a big issue in trans fanfics was that the cis person was always the one to condescendingly teaching the helpless trans kid how to bind properly. I decided to make both of your mentors trans, had them both know what they're talking about, and made sure that you weren't completely useless or clueless, only that you needed guidance seeing as (Y/N) is a trans kid with no former knowledge about his transition. As well, I kinda wanted this fic to be of help to any newcomer trans men. Anyway, on to the last of the story!)

"So how are your ribs feeling?" Spot asks after we both calm down, "A little sore, but pretty much moveable. Is it really this painful to bind? I mean, the past few weeks I had the binding stuff on was my first time." "It shouldn't, I mean, lookit Race. He seems energetic and flexible even when he's binding." I think he sees my insecure face because he speaks again, "What I mean to say is- if you have more experience binding, you'll know how to mix mental and physical comfort. Either way, what fucked up your ribs wasn't the binding, it was the Delancey's. Not saying the way you were binding wasn't bad and wouldn't have caused lasting damage, of course."

I see Spot have a flicker of thought behind his eyes, he pulls out an obviously stolen silver pocket watch with the initials H.A. engraved on it to check the time. "Almost time..." he mutters. I give him a suspicious look, "Almost time for what...?" he looks sheepishly at the ground, "Nnnnnothing." I let out a noise halfway between a snort and a scoff, "Uh huh." "Fine." he sighs, "All the newsies and workin' boys is comin' together today. We'se hopin' ta finish up this strike Once And For All."

"Let me guess, I shouldn't go because I'm still healing." He nods, "Spot!! I need to do my part in this strike! I can't miss the most important day of my life." he gives me a weird look, "You don't even know what the outcome'll be, plus I promised Race that you wouldn't get hurt." "Please, I've been bedridden for WEEKS. And I won't get hurt" I protest stubbornly, he sighs exasperatedly "FINE, but I'm gettin' you right outta there at the foist sign o' danger, okay?" "Okay!" I say, content with the compromise. "We should prolly get you up and used to legs again before the strike--" my stomach rumbles harder than Les when he sees the chocolate croissants in the Pastry Shop window, and that's seriously saying somethin', "--and something to eat, too."

Spot holds my hands as I get out of bed and basically learn to walk again with wobbly legs. You could just paint my back with spots and call me a baby deer. Once I get my legs to work with me, Spot leads me to a tin tub. I give him a 'seriously?' look, "What am I doin', goin' ta church?" he laughs sarcastically, "Ha, ha. (N/N), you haven't cleaned yourself since the last time you were conscious. I also need to refresh your bandages since those haven't been touched since Race changed them in the foist place." "Fiiiine" I growl.

Spot unwraps my arm and chest bandages, but when it comes to me taking off the rest of my clothes, he looks away (not even for my privacy, but just because he is highly repulsed to the idea of naked bodies) I add enough soap suds on top of the water to cover my body so he's comfortable.

He grabs some soap and lathers up my hair with it, soon rinsing it. He also lathers and rinses my face, removing the built-up dirt, grease, and sweat, which accumulated surprisingly quickly for only spending a month, or was it two, here. Spot brings out a small piece of scrap fabric and a bottle of some liquid, then gently grabs my arms. "This might burn a little," he said empathetically. He dampened the cloth with what I am assuming is disinfectant and started pressing it against my healing cuts. I tried to hold in my pain but let out a small hiss when the cloth reached the deeper cuts on the backs of my arms. Spot stopped temporarily, letting my arms adjust to the sting a little, before continuing. Once he's finished, he hands me the soap and leaves the room to let me bathe myself in peace and picks up my dirty clothes and old bandages. "Holler if you need anything!" he yells on his way out.

I create a lather in my hands and stand up so I can actually wash my body. The air is chilly compared to the bathwater, so I do my best to be quick as I let my soap hands travel gingerly over my body. I look down, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel ashamed. Spot words echo in my mind as I smile softly; 'You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes.' I guess, for now, I'm confident in my masculinity.

I sit back down, enjoying the warmth, and rinse myself off. I step out of the bath and look at the grey-ish brown-ish water. Ew, was I really that dirty? As the cold air envelops me once more, I realize I don't have a towel. Or clothes. "Spot!" I call out, "Yeah?" I hear a faint voice, "I need a towel and some clothes!" I answer. There's quiet, then a series of rustling sounds that slowly get closer. The door opens a crack and I see a tan, muscular hand slide a pile of clothes and a towel in my direction. I smile gratefully, "Thanks, Spotty!" "Aye! Only Race can call me dat..." "Okay, fine."

I dry my hair as much as possible, before continuing to my body. There's not much actual rubbing rather than patting because of my injuries, so when I get my pants on and slip my button-down onto my shoulders, they get a little damp. "Spot?" I call out again, "Do you think you could help me with my bandages?" "'Course!" He casually picks up the chest bandages and binds it pretty much perfectly- Tight enough to make a difference in my chest size, but loose enough to let my ribs heal. Spot then starts re-bandaging my arms, "Can I ask you a question, Spot?" "Sure, (N/N)" he says nonchalantly, "Why is it you are repulsed by fully naked bodies, but you're perfectly casual and fine about helping me bind my chest when I'm half-naked?" he clears his throat as if he was ready to spin a whole story, "Well, Race used to live with me and we started trusting each other a lot more than when we first met. He trusted me enough to teach him the best way to bind, and he trusted me enough to feel comfy without a top on when around the house, so I'm kinda desensitized. But when it comes to people being naked or bein' overly suggestive, I just..don't like it. At all."

'Asexual,' I think, 'Knew it."

"Anyway, you ready to fight off the bulls and get our rights back, (N/N)?" He stands up and offers a hand to help me up, which I receive. I catch my reflection in the dirty bathwater. I can see crystal clear, that I am dapper, strong, and ready to kick some Delancey ass.

But first, Lunch.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I arrive at the strike on Spot's shoulders, hyped for the happy ending they all worked so hard for. Spot sets me down gently and scans the crowd for someone. It seems he found them because his face lights up. I see Race run over to us. "(N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so fuckin' glad that you're awake! Especially today of all days!" however, his enthusiasm is soon replaced with concern, "But is ya sure yer okay? You must've woken up just today, so are you feeling good? Yer injuries don't hurt too bad, you're not dizzy, hungry, thirsty?" "Calm down, Tony, I gave him a bath, changed his bandages, gave him food n' water, even a pep talk, so you don't need to worry!" Race takes a few deep breaths, "Okay, okay, yeah I'm fine. But that's great!" He engulfs me in a firm, but gentle hug. I look around the crowd and see some familiar faces, Katherine seems to have brought another girl with her, who I'm assuming is Sarah, Davey's sister. I see Albert and Elmer tightly holding each other's hands. I see Finch and Smalls exchanging jokes as a form of distraction. I look back at Race and Spot, who are being so romantic, it's almost gross. Almost.

The adrenaline still hasn't left me so when people start getting as excited as me, it just hypes me up even more. We look up at the window of Pulitzer's office and see Jack and a few others standing there, waving. I wave back vigorously. Not too long after, Jack, Davey, Pulitzer, and The Governer appear on a balcony, Jack at the front. "Newsies of New York City..." cue the pause for dramatic effect, "WE WON!!" The crowd of newsies roars with joy. I watch as Crutchie limps out and beats Snyder's ass as the abuser is dragged away, I don't understand why so many people see him as an angel, it's obvious that he's a cheeky lil' rat bastard.

Suddenly, it's like everything is in slow motion. I look around once more and see Katherine and Sarah kissing, same with Albert and Elmer, Finch and Smalls are hugging each other tightly. I look back up at the balcony and see Davey and Jack gettin' it ON. I look once again to Spot and Race, who just finished kissing. Spot reaches down and hoists me onto his shoulders to cheer. And as I take in this momentous victory one sense at a time, I realize in a moment of pure bliss-

I finally found my true family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word Count: 8190

(A/N):

This took VERY LONG (approx. one month, I just finished after working from 9 pm to 5 am) I know it was supposed to be a simple one-shot, but since there was no one to help narrow down and shorten the plot for me, I got carried away. I am, however, pleased with the length of it. This may be the longest fic I've ever written. As well, I hope any underlying advice or tips mentioned in the story helped you to understand/realize something.

I would love it if you were to vote, give me some constructive criticism, and/or request something for me to write! Don't forget- I live to write that one fanfic you can never find.

Love y'all!

~ Race

#newsies #fanfiction #newsies fanfiction #reader insert #ftm #trans reader #javid #sprace #almer #crutchie morris #morris delancey #katherine x sarah #spot x race #jack x davey #elmer x albert #hyperfixation #fansies #broadway #newsies broadway #ships #no one x reader #oneshot #no sleep #long oneshot #fanfic request #requests #requests open #tumblr #gay #lesbian

[5-jorjas-in-the-fence]

Fearless (Taylor’s Version) as Newsies

Fearless: Romeo. Yes I know you think he’d be love story but he’s such a hopeless romantic I can guarantee he lives for the whole ‘take my hand and drag me head first fearless’. Plus he’s a pretty timid guy, so him being fearless is just *chefs kiss*

Fifteen: Davey. I feel like he’s made some bad choices which is why he’s so careful. He definitely lives by ‘I found time can heal most anything’

Love Story: Race, the dramatic little f*cker, lives for Love Story. Don’t act like he won’t speed down a freeway screaming at the top of his lungs while whoever is in the passenger seat (usually Albert) looks at him with great concern.

Hey Stephen: Les. He probably has written poetry for some girl in his class. Plus it’s such a wholesome song, I’m just imagining his little voice in the back seat of the car singing ‘I CANT HELP IT IF YA LOOK LIKE AN ANGEL, CANT HELP IT IF I WANNA KISS YA IN THE RAIN SO COME FEEL THIS MAGIC IVE BEEN FEELING SINCE I MET YOU’ and then Davey (who’s driving, he doesn’t trust anyone else to give Les lifts unless it’s Jack or Sarah) Just turns it up so he doesn’t have to hear Les’s screeching

White Horse: oh boy time to ✨cry✨ and you know who relates to this song? Albert. Not sure why, he has a lot of feelings so for him a song about pure hurt is up his ally. He loves all the lyrics and ‘I’m gonna find someone some day who might ACTUALLY TREAT ME WELL’ he screams a little too passionately and then race is there like ‘am I a joke to you 👁��👁’

You Belong With Me: Crutchie lives for this song. It’s so fun and he loves humming it and he just- he loves a good classic. He definitely has a Junior Jewels shirt that he got all the newsies to sign. It’s his favourite pyjama shirt.

Breathe: Elmer. Probably cause he has nine siblings and he had to leave them, he was hella close to them so now he’s alone... I’m fine

Tell Me Why: Henry. ‘CAUSE YOURE THE ONLY THING ON MYYYYY MIND’ he does that and points his finger dramatically. I have this weird head canon that he takes SO LONG in the bathroom so he sings into his shampoo bottle and looks in the mirror... yeah it’s a lot.

You’re Not Sorry: Specs. It slaps. So does Specs. In conclusion: yes.

The Way I Loved You: Jack. Now The Way I Loved You is about two people. The one they’re currently with, and the ex. So for him I feel like he’s not really sure what his feelings are doing, so he misses his ex while he’s with his current partner... yikes. Someone get the boy some therapy he needs it.

Forever and Always: Spot. He’s angry. He’s going feral. ‘OhhhHHHHH AND IT RAINS IN YOUR BEDROOM EVERYTHING IS WRONG, IT RAINS WHEN YOURE HERE AND IT RAINS WHEN YOURE GONE’ yeah he’s really into it... like he’s popping off. Specifically that part where Taylor is full on P I S S E D and that high note comes up.

The Best Day: *don’t touch me I’m crying* Katherine (pt 1, yeah she has two songs stfu like you didn’t see that coming) k so she loves the best day cause she ✨lost her mother✨ when she was 14 so uhhh, she just likes it cause it reminds her of her... which is sad... oh fearless OG came out when her mum was around as well, so when she lost her she probably played The Best Day to cope.

Change: oh all of them I mean have you HEARD it??? ‘It was the night things changed, I can feel it now, all the walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down itS A REVOLUTIONNNNNNNN SO THROW YOUR HANDS UP CAUSE WE NEVER GAVEEEEE INNNNNNNnnnNn *inhales* AND WELL SING HALLELU-‘ yeah it slaps.

Jump Then Fall: SARAH JACOBS!!! It’s so soft and I can BET she kinda sits there quietly watching her SO and then is like ‘holy shit- fuck their laugh- oh my god’ and has moments where she’s like ‘my gosh I love them’ and she’s so comforting and warm. So the whole line ‘I’ll hold you through the night until you smile...’ cause she knows that she wants to fall in love so bad but she’s also like ‘please don’t be afraid to fall please just love me holy shit I love you’

Come In With The Rain: gosh idk they all scream the chorus at the top of their lungs (there are so many tracks on this album I’m just going to have to skip songs where I can’t think of anyone 🧍‍♀️

There’s also probably gonna be a few repeats

Superstar: Pulitzer thinking about Teddy Roosevelt 😏

Today Was A Fairytale: Albert, he deserves a happy song. After a happy date he dances around the room singing it, until someone knocks on the door and he’s like ‘shit they heard me’

Mr Perfectly Fine: ohhhhhhhHHHH KATHERINE MY QUEEN. She’s p i s s e d. She’s m a d. She’s p a s s i o n a t e. She’s also still with Jack at the time so he’s like ‘wtf’ scared for his life- then he uhhhh breaks up with her... cause of valid reasons and is ok but still broken and that takes her love for the song to a whole new level cause she always got it but never got it. Not she’s on the verge of smashing a vase as she screams it.

We Were Happy: ✨newsbians✨ just for the line ‘talking bout your daddys farm we were gonna buy some day’. Idk if I ever like- posted about it but Chandler @tarantulas4davey and I had a wholeeee thing for cottage core Kath and Sarah so yk

Don’t You: Jack. He’s a mess. Wbk.

Bye Bye Baby: Race. he just wants to live that main character life cause he’s dramatic so... ‘it wasn’t just like a movie, the rain didn’t soak through my clothes, down to my skin’ honestly same. What a mood.

Love story Remix: THEYRE ALL VIBING

Anyway, in conclusion: yeehaw.

Stream Fearless Taylors Version. Please send in asks asking to elaboration or something if you want to :)

#taylor swift #fearless Taylors version #Taylors version #fearless #ralbert #javid #newsies #musicals #theatre #broadway #disney newsies #newsies 2017 #jack kelly #Davey jacobs #sarah jacobs #Les jacobs #Albert dalsilva #race Higgins #newsies hcs #newsies headcanons #Albert newsies #race newsies #finch newsies #specs newsies #spot Collin #spot newsies #Elmer newsies #Romeo newsies #Jack newsies #Katherine plumber

[mrsdeanwinchester19]

The Interview

Steve x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: The Avengers have interviews with a news outlet and it doesn’t go as expected

Type: Fluff and humor

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: This was inspired by the Jiminy Glick/Jimmy Fallon interview

The Avengers compound was almost completely quiet, Steve was the only one awake.  He doesn’t normally stay at the compound anymore, preferring to stay at his house, but they got in late from a mission last night and fell asleep after taking his suit off.  The only noise came from the drip, drip, drip of the coffee maker as he mentally tried to prepare for the interviews the whole team has today.  Everyone had been assigned a journalist for a news outlet called The New York Sun.  They were doing a piece on the Avengers, hopefully they won’t try to turn it into an exposé, but it’s not like they would find any information that isn’t already on the Internet after Natasha decrypted and released SHIELD’s files.

Bucky stumbles into the kitchen in a long gray and purple striped robe, looking like he just woke from cryo.  “Good morning sunshine,” Steve jokes.  Bucky glares at him before taking the cup of coffee that Steve had prepared for himself before walking back out.  “FRIDAY,” Steve says to the air.  “Set an alarm for everyone’s room.”  He smiles slightly when the loud alarm starts blaring in all their rooms.  

Sam slams his door open and looks around frazzled.  “What the hell, man?” He clearly woke up thinking there was some kind of attack happening.

Steve simply shrugs his shoulders in response.  “You need to get ready.”

Once everyone had gotten up and gotten ready, they all have a meeting in the common area.  Tony orders them not to say anything the people don’t know about already, don’t say anything about each other, and definitely don’t talk about relationships or family.  

The journalists are spread out around the compound, each in their own room, so Tony tells them where to go to meet their journalist.  Steve goes into the conference room to see one chair turned away from him.  When he closes the door, the journalist spins their chair around and sets their papers on the table.  Steve is immediately struck by how beautiful the interviewer is. Long Y/H/C hair tumbling over her shoulders, bright Y/E/C eyes staring into his baby blues.  She’s wearing a tight black skirt and a white blouse that Steve can slightly see her lacy bralette through.  

“Steve Rogers, nice to meet you,” she says, extending her hand.  Steve grips her soft hand in his rough one and shakes it.  He can’t help but notice the lack of a ring on the hand he didn’t shake.

“Nice to meet you too Miss…” he trails off.

“Y/N.”

“Miss Y/N.  It’s not often we do interviews, just press conferences,” he says, sitting down across the table from her.

“Well, normally I interview celebrities, so this is a nice change of pace,” she answers.  Apparently Steve isn’t a celebrity in her eyes despite the fact that he’s a national icon and has been since World War II.  

“What would you like to know?” Steve changes the subject.

“I want to know about your journey.  I want to know how-” she checks her notes, “-Steve Rogers got to where he is today; but not too much detail because I don’t actually care.  You were born where?”

“I was born and raised in Brooklyn-,” Steve explains, but she cuts him off.

“-Isn’t that wonderful? Poor Brooklyn or Newsies Brooklyn?”

“Uh, it was more poor Brooklyn.”

“Poor Brooklyn, okay. And I’m assuming from the grammar…limited education.”

Steve nearly has to keep his jaw from dropping at her audacity.  To keep his mouth from opening, he clenches his jaw as she continues with the questions.  He may not be a genius like Tony, but he’s smart.  While Tony’s head is filled with ideas for inventions, his is packed with military strategies, fighting styles, and a lifetime of wise advice that the team never wants to hear.  Then, at night, what takes over his mind is how embarrassing the Rappin’ with Cap videos about hot lunches and tooth decay are.

She continues before he has a chance to respond, “There are a lot of words you don’t say.  Rumors are you don’t swear, is that true?”  Steve nods his head in affirmation.  “Why?  Are you scared of saying the words or something?”

Steve sighs, used to this kind of response.  “I just think it sounds unintelligent and unprofessional.”

“Ah, and with your lack of education you want to sound as smart as possible.  So, moving on, you stopped producing weapons.  You said ‘I’m not gonna do it anymore’.  Why is that?”

“Yeah, that uh, that wasn’t me, that was Tony.”

“And you are…?”

“Steve Rogers.”

She gasps, “These questions are not- I’m not prepared for this!  Alright, improvising.  Here’s one, how are you alive?”

“I beg your pardon?” Steve asks, not quite understanding if she’s referring to his age or a certain mission he shouldn’t have come back from.

“You went into the ice. Human cells are mostly made of water. When water freezes, it expands. Your cells should have burst.”

“They think that the serum prevented it from happening.  The doctors said that instead of the water in my cells expanding that when it got cold it clumped together and turned solid.  I’m not a scientist though, that’s something you would want to ask Bruce or Cho, they tried to explain it to me.”

“Bruce isn’t a medical doctor, right?” she asks.

“Right.  But he studied the serum, attempting to replicate it and now that I’m here again he’s trying to learn more about it.  I was basically a pin cushion for him in the beginning, he took so much blood.”

“Alright, last question. I wanna ask you about your relationship with Bucky Barnes.”

“He’s a very good friend-“ Steve begins.

“Lover.”

“What?”

“Is he your lover?” she asks again.

“No, he’s just a friend; basically my brother,” Steve defends.

“Admit it in this interview, he’s your male lover!”

“You’re just trying to get a reaction out of me!” Steve says.  He knows he shouldn’t let her rile him up at all, but he can’t help it when the entire interview has been to hold.

“I’m not trying to get a reaction.”

“Yes you are, you’re trying to get a reaction out of me by saying ridiculous stuff like this!”

“I’ll tell you the reaction that I’m trying to get over, I’m trying to get over the fact that I thought this was with Stark!”

“You gotta be shitting me.”

“Oof, Rogers, you kiss your wife with that mouth?  Or should I say you kiss Bucky with that mouth,” she says.

Steve pulls at his own hair before walking out of the conference room.  She’ll find her own way out.  What the hell kind of interview was that?  The questions were almost nonsensical, followed no pattern or sequence, and apparently she thought she was interviewing a different person.  He’s been angered by interviewers before, especially when they try to work in “gotcha” questions, but never straight up insulted like this with the education comment.  He’s not sure if the others are done with their interviews yet but if he needs to talk to them, he can text.  He’s headed home.

  You unlock your front door and drop your purse after closing the door. Before you even get a chance to turn on the light, a voice calls out.  “Limited education?”

You jump a bit and put your hand on your chest.  You look over to see a dark figure on the couch.  He stands up and slowly walks over until he’s in the light shining through the front windows from the street lights.  “I think you deserved it,” you say.

“Oh really?” he asks.

“Yes.  Texting your wife that you’re getting in and then staying at the compound?”  You walk closer to him.  “I stayed up for hours worried that something happened to you in the last few minutes of the flight and you said I’m not allowed to call you during missions.”

“I’m sorry babe, my phone died and I passed out when I went to go take off my uniform.  Can you forgive me?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You look up at him then at his chest.  “I mean, a massage would definitely help…”

He laughs.  “I was about to ask the same thing of you, especially after FRIDAY showed Tony the full recording of my interview and then had an almost two hour phone call with me about it.  He’s gonna kill me when he finds out the interviewer was my wife.  Actually it’s gonna be when he finds out I got married and didn’t invite the team.”

“Well don’t worry about it,” you say, setting your hands against his chest and feel his strong heart beating beneath his skin.  “He’ll understand since you two weren’t on good terms at the time. In other news, I wrote you a shining review about how you’re smart, selfless, brave, kind, and how sexy your ass is.”

He laughs and leans down to kiss you.  The kiss is chaste but sweet.  “We’re having dinner with the team on Thursday.”  

It’s Monday today so that gives me only 3 days to mentally prepare to meet the people most important to him. “Are you sure?” I ask nervously.  

“Of course!  You already know Bucky and he loves you.  I’m sure the rest of the team will too.  Besides, how else will we explain the great article about me when Tony saw the interview.”

“Did you tell them they’re having dinner with you and your wife?” I ask.  I have hung out with Bucky and Steve dozens of times.  He comes over for dinner at least twice a week and he was the best man at Steve’s second wedding.  Because Tony and Steve had been split apart, he really wanted Bucky at his wedding, even though he wasn’t fully recovered yet.  I think Steve would’ve put him in a straight jacket had it meant he could be there.  Bucky also wanted to be there more than anything, he was just terrified he would ruin Steve’s day.  So after telling Bucky, you had a small, second ceremony that Bucky was able to attend, along with Steve’s Wakandan friends. We may end up having a third ceremony that the team can finally attend.

“Nope.  I just told them team dinner on Thursday and they have to be there.  But for now, how about we head to the bedroom and get reacquainted?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows and biting his full lower lip.

“Yeah, you need to take care of your wife that you left alone for a week.  Otherwise you’ll get an article about your secret addition to glazed donuts and soap operas!”

Taglist: @imanuglywombat​

#Steve Rogers #steve x reader #captain america #the interview #fluff #Avengers #The Avengers #steve rogers x reader #steve x you #tony stark #Bucky Barnes

[how-to-do-activism]

What are some decent, reliable, left-ish (or at least less corporate shill) news sources that don't bog down in spectacle or inaccessible rhetoric? I'm having real trouble striking a balance between "staying reasonably informed about the state of the world" and "so obsessive and paranoid over the news that i wake up one day unable to turn my head left because of the muscle tension" and having some concrete news sources in my pocket would probably help a lot

Okay serious answer: If you read Spanish check out La Jornada.

If you don’t read Spanish - uh.

I’m assuming you’re in the US because you’re asking me.

Local-esque papers? Small-ish papers? I tend to find the Sacramento Bee less off-putting than a lot of other publications; The San Jose Mercury News is another one I’ll turn to. But I grew up in CA so outside of that I don’t really know much about papers that are smaller than the Chicago Tribune.

The Left has a news problem. Really left lefties don’t tend to write in newspapers and when they do really really left lefties yell at them for it.

If you’re trying to just keep up with current events but you don’t want to go completely fucking nuts, look at Fox news, or get behind a paywall then I recommend the following:

Check your LOCAL-local paper, the smallest one closest to you. The one run by one pissed-off grandma and three college students that’s half ads for the local furniture store and is available for free in front of city hall. These are usually weeklies. Pick them up and read the whole news section.

Check your local college paper. College journalists are fucking awesome and give a ton of shits about what they’re doing. The stories will be highly campus-focused but during the school year there’s usually a breaking news area that covers local and national news. These papers are almost all online these days.

Check your local-ish paper. I’m currently living in Las Vegas so that would be any paper published within a 500 mile radius that has a metro-area population of half a million people or more. Papers from San Diego or Phoenix or Las Vegas or Reno would count. Find the one you trust the most and bookmark it.

Check Buzzfeed News (I know, I know, but their journalism branch is pretty good)

Check the BBC

I’m a little weird in that I’m either reading no news whatsoever or I’m reading *everything* because I spent five years as a journalism major and it kind of broke me as a human being.

Your goal is to *glance* at the news every day to see what the headlines are and then look away.

Once a week catch up on major stories. Dedicate an hour or four (not four, again, I am kind of not okay) to seeing what’s been happening in depth. The reason you do this once a week is because most headlines are developing stories that don’t actually have any news content these days. The full coverage usually takes at least a day or two to get past the breathless this-just-in stage.

If you’re on twitter follow *one* major news network but OH BUDDY, do I think you should get off twitter. If you’re feeling sick and overwhelmed and lost because the news is so ubiquitous and so terrible and you’re on twitter I promise you that twitter is part of the problem for you.

For good in-depth left-esque stuff I tend to check out Slate, Vox, the Intercept, and actually a whole bunch of tech blogs. Ars Technica and Boing Boing are good places to start.

I dunno, friend, the news is a trashfire. It’s hard to find things that are reliable and it’s hard to find things that don’t seem like they’ve bought in to the worst parts of capitalism without reading, like, Salon or some shit and Salon is frequently useless and infuriating.

Also Teen Vogue is pretty great right now and how’s that for a kick in the balls? Really excellent lefty journalism is coming from a children’s fashion magazine.

(Teen Vogue’s staff are EXCELLENT and I will not hear them besmirched but FUCK when I was a journalism major it was very much the In Thing to sneer at fashion magazines. Which I didn’t because I had a subscription to Details from the ages of 16 to 24 and they had some completely fucking INCREDIBLE investigative news stories and utterly amazing interviews. But yeah people used to give me side-eye in my very serious news journalism conversations because I was way more into the magazine side of things and since I was more interested in reading Details than Newsweek I wasn’t seen as newsy enough but dude, when’s the last time Newsweek dedicated 5000 words to *anything*??? Depth! Over! Speed!)

Also please read news about your country that is written by other countries especially if you’re from the US because the perplexed tone of the BBC going “The Americans???? Are at it again???” is fantastic but also really grounding - looking away from the Fox New squabbling and talking heads smugness is just. It’s very refreshing. I like the BBC because it’s easy for me to read but periodically if I have the time I’ll also try to check out La Jornada but my Spanish isn’t really strong enough to read it reliably.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Specs

(Please ignore how awful my gif is)(Requested via message)

(I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a while!)

- You met Specs while walking to work in the morning. He was out selling his papers when you and a few of the other girls you worked with passed him.

- He quickly snatched the hat from his head as you walked by, eyes seemingly locking onto you even though you were in the middle of a small crowd.

- The two of you met each other’s gaze and without meaning to, your steps began to slow. A small smile found its way onto your face before you hurriedly made your way back to your group. As you reached your friends sides, you spared one last glance at the boy over your shoulder. You were secretly pleased to see that he was still watching.

- Normally Specs wouldn't linger in a selling spot for too long unless it was raking in a good profit. But let’s just say that he had a bit of an ulterior motive when returning to the area.

- Day after day, you would continue to see him while making your way to work. Your friends began to tease you about it, grabbing your arm and giggling in your ear as you passed him. You felt flattered by the attention but you still wondered if he was actually attracted to you and if so, was he ever going to approach you?

- It was after about two weeks that he finally did. You passed his usual selling spot in the morning and found that he wasn’t there. So, with a little dash of disappointment settling in your stomach, you headed off to work and went about your day.

- You walked out the doors of your work at the end of your shift, wiping your hands on your dress and pulling the hair from your face. It was then that you saw him, his body leaned casually against the wall of the building besides yours.

- He kicked himself off of the wall once he noticed you, pulling the hat off his head as he made his way over.

- He tries his hand at a polite, gentlemanly introduction, fiddling with the hat in his hands as he spoke. He “confessed” that he’d been watching you “for a little while now” and explained that he wanted to get to know you more.

- You smiled and agreed, glad that he had finally decided to try his luck with you.

- Your first date was that same day. The two of you walked around town together, getting to know each other and sweetly flirting. By the time you had to return home, you had already promised to see him again the next day.

- The two of you shared your first kiss on your fourth date. You’d been sitting together in one of the many alleyways of the city, recounting different stories from your day when you started to notice him looking closely at your face.

- You ignored it for a while, figuring that he was probably distracted by a smudge of dust or paint, something that often found its way onto your face after a long day. It wasn’t until you began to walk home together that you finally learned that there wasn’t anything on your face.

- The two of you were just about to say goodbye when he hesitated for a minute, glancing down at what you finally comprehended was your lips and asking if he could kiss you. Now, how could you say no to that?

- Pda wasn’t exactly very common back then so the two of you keep your affection to yourselves for the most part. Although the newsies are far less worried about public decency and reputations, Specs in particular is trying very hard to be a gentleman for you; at least in public.

- Forehead kisses as he wraps his arms loosely around you, keeping you close to him.

- Never ending pecks on the lips. He’ll keep moving in for another one unless you push him away.

- He’s sort of a geek compared to his fellow newsies; he doesn't do nearly as many crazy stunts as them. Maybe he’s more mature, …or maybe he’s just less coordinated than everyone else.

- Even though he’s a geek, he still does crazy/ridiculous stuff; he just doesn’t do acrobatics while doing so. Locked yourself out of your house? He somehow knows how to pick a lock. Forgot something somewhere? He’ll run all the way back there to get it for you!

- He’s kinda slow in the reflex department; you’ve been his savior more than a few times. You’re probably one of the only reasons his glasses are still intact.

- Specs is generally pretty polite but he is not a morning person at all. Be careful when attempting to wake him up, you may end up snatched and cuddled against your will or aggressively grumbled at.

- All the newsies would absolutely love cuddling with their girls and you cannot convince me otherwise. Some may be more shy than others but they all secretly love it. Specs typically sleeps/rests on his back so he’s pretty fond of the sweetheart cradle.

- He’s not ashamed of the fact that he likes when you baby him but he’ll get extremely embarrassed if anyone somewhat comes close to guessing that he does.

- He may be a little rough around the edges but he always tries to treat you like a lady; at least when he can help it.

- Getting visits while or after he sells his papers.

- He would genuinely wait around for hours just to be able to spend a little time with you. Get off work at seven? Well he gets off at five but he can stand to wait a little. Its worth it, right?

- People are just used to seeing him sitting on a crate outside your workplace, fiddling with whatever he can find to pass the time.

- He has a habit of holding/playing with things when he’s stationary so expect to have your hand occupied quite often.

- Piggyback rides. It may not be proper for a lady such as yourself but frankly, you don't give a damn and neither does he if you don’t.

- Likes bothering you in that playful boyfriend sort of way. You get teased, poked and prodded, especially when the two of you are alone together.

- He’s always got something to say. The two of you could have a full conversation about literally nothing at all.

- He’s happy to let you lean on him. What’s the difference when it’s a cute girl doing it? He’s used to having the other newsies use him as an arm rest so having his adorable girlfriend resting against him is a welcome change.

- I don’t know if it’s just me; but he looks so much better without his ridiculous top hat on?? Thank god he takes it off around you.

- He doesn’t have much; if any, pocket money so you’re not going to have any expensive dates. That being said, he tries to do something nice with what he has.

- Little love letters filled with misspellings and awful grammar. They may not be the most poetic things in the world but you adore them all the same.

- Walking around town together. You may have seen it all a hundred times before but it seems entirely new when you’re with him.

- Cozying up in secluded corners.

- Refers to you as ‘me old lady’ when talking about you to other people. He doesn’t use too many nicknames when talking with you though. He isn’t a big charmer so he isn’t used to the concept. He probably calls you “missy” jokingly but that doesn’t exactly count as a nickname, does it?

- He both follows your orders and disobeys you like you’re his mother. He’s constantly on that line of I will blindly follow you and I will make you make me.

- He may give you a little shit now and again but he’s a ride or die and thats a fact. When it really comes down to it, he has your back no matter what.

- The newsies may not seem like the most sensitive people in the world but Specs is a bit more empathetic than most. He hates seeing people; especially you, all sad or distressed.

- He may not be the greatest at it but he always tries to comfort or cheer you up in any way he can.

- He’s not used to people really caring about him and his wellbeing so it’s always a shock to him when you worry about his safety or try to take care of him.

- You once brought him some food because you were worried he wasn’t eating enough and he nearly cried. You should have seen his face when you handed it to him; it was like you were giving him a hundred bucks.

- Occasionally you’ll sneak him into your house when your parents aren’t home so he can take a warm bath in a tub that he actually fits in and eat a full meal.

- Sometimes the two of you will walk around town together, pretending that you’re both a wealthy couple. You put on posh accents and look through the windows of shops you could never buy from, boasting about how you’ll get this or that and talking about other “rich person” things.

- He saves up money for an entire year just to be able to buy you a Christmas/birthday gift. Either that or he’ll attempt to make you something, usually some kind of newspaper flower.

- How jealous he gets really depends on who it is that he’s meant to be jealous of. If it’s another newsie flirting then he’ll just tell them to get lost but if its someone with more class than him then he feels more threatened. Why would you chose him over some upper class fellow?

- He may act aggressive with the guy but he’s more reserved and feels like he has to take more shit if the fella decides to get smart. He doesn’t want to be put in the refuge for soaking him if his parents take it up with the law.

- Nearly all of the newsies would be protective of their girls and this trait isn’t lost on Specs. He’ll stare down people he doesn't like, keeping you behind him and puffing out his chest whenever they turn up.

- He’s always keeping an eye out for you and lingering around. He usually isn’t too far from your side when he can help it.

- He always stands behind you as you’re sitting down, holding the back of your chair and keeping a close eye on everything that’s going on.

 - He’s surprisingly fast on his feet and is an arguably good bullshitter/liar which he used for both good and; occasionally, bad causes. He can’t lie to you very well though; you can always see right through him.

- Most of your fights are pretty trivial so it isn't hard for the two of you to makeup. A lot of the time he’ll just forget that you were fighting or what you were fighting about and continue on like nothing happened or admit that he doesn’t even know what you’re supposed to be bickering about.

- You get a ‘love ya’ every time you’re saying goodbye or whenever he just feels the need to say it.

- The two of you will undoubtedly be pretty nervous when introducing him to your parents. The look on his face when you and your father first laid eyes on each other should be framed.

- He’s genuinely ready to spend the rest of his life with you. He’s one of the older newsies too so marriage might be just around the corner; if your folks will allow it.

#newsies imagine #newsies headcanons #newsies x reader #newsies headcanon #newsies imagines #90s movie headcanon #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagine #specs imagine #specs headcanon #specs headcanons #92sies imagine #92sies headcanons #92sies headcanon

[septicstories]

Big Life in a Small Town (Part 1)

A/N: This is based on the song "Santa Fe (Prologue)" from the Newsies musical! It's not based on the plot of the musical. The song will be altered a tad, but not too much! In the next part though, I'll have to do some edits. But for now, you've got this... mess? I dunno, I'm writing this before it's done. This is post-X-men Apocalypse, so Peter is in his late 20's.

Genre: Bittersweet fluff

Warnings: alcohol, drinking, mentions of broken limbs, daddy issues, no beta reader, minimal editing

Word count: 1.3k (1,385 words)

The X-mansion was quiet, the cool midnight air only changing currents occasionally when a silver blur sprinted around.

Pietro had his younger brother in his arms, running around. Peter injured his leg a while ago, stuck on crutches. ANd it was killing the young speedster.

And Pietro noticed.

So he scooped his younger brother up out of his room, running him around the mansion's vast yard until he smiled. That's when he brought him up to one of the rooftop balconies of the mansion.

The two siblings weren't the only ones in their family who lived in the mansion. Pietro's twin, Wanda, was fast asleep, her room near the balcony.

Pietro, as immature as he may seem, was wise beyond his years. He'd seen more things than he ever would have wanted to for a 35-year-old man. Hell, anyone would be unsettled when you find your mother died of sickness, and your father was out of the picture when your younger brother was born a few years after.

Pietro and Peter sat on the balcony, a case of beer between the two, a sudden scoff came from the older speedster.

"What's up, you alright?" Peter asked, looking at his brother.

Pietro's eyes were glued to the ground below them, a sour expression on his face.

"Those streets down there," Pietro began, a dry laugh leaving his lips. "They sucked the life right out of our old man. Well, they aren't doing that to me."

Peter pursed his lips, watching as his older brother took a swig of his beer.

Pietro has always hated staying in one place for too long. The mansion hadn't really ever been his favorite place. Staying at their aunt's house in D.C. was something he looked forward to every summer. But, even then, he could only stay there for a few days before needing to go somewhere else. Not just from his need to move, but the U.S. government still wasn't absolutely fond of mutants.

"But everyone wants to come to New York," Peter let out a small chuckle. To an outsider, it'd sound like he was in disbelief, but he understood how Pietro felt.

Staying in one place was hard. But Peter also managed to make himself a family here at the mansion as he grew up. He met the ever-sweet Jean Grey when he was 20 years old. The poor girl had some trauma that no one but Chuck knew about. He got to meet Hank, and Raven, and all of the other younger kids. He thought of them all as his younger siblings.

He couldn't leave.

"You keep your small life in the big city. Give me a big life in a small town."

Pietro's words snapped Peter out of his thoughts, looking to his older brother. Pietro's eyes had lifted from the ground, looking up to the sky.

"They say folks are dying to get here."

"What about you, Piet?"

"Me? I'm dying to get away... to a little town out west that's spankin' new," Pietro said with a grin. "And while I've never been there, I can see it clear as day! If you want, I bet you, you could see it, too.

Peter has always had a particular question on his mind, that he always knew the answer to.

Then why haven't you gone? What's stopping you?

But, as always, Peter kept his mouth shut. He didn't want Wanda and Pietro to leave, as dumb as it may be. They were the only family he had left. Well, that he knew of and that knew of him.

Erik was another person he'd address when he had the courage.

But not...

Not now.

"Close your eyes."

Peter looked at his brother again, who was staring back at him. Honestly, he was waiting for his brother to snap in his face and use what became his favorite phrase after a few movie nights: "Hello, McFly?"

"Come with me, where it's clean and green and pretty, and they went and made a city out of clay."

Clay? A city out of clay? That sounds... odd. Peter hasn't stayed too long in other parts of the world, opting to stick to the Northeast area of the U.S. Occasionally, he'll go further South or a little bit further West. But never past Kansas.

"Why, the minute that you get there, folks will walk right up and say, 'Welcome home, son. Welcome home to Santa Fe!'"

Being called son was something the Maximoff boys wanted more than they would ever elude to. Their father? Out of the picture for the most part, up until they realized he was a terrorist. And he didn't even know about Peter.

Of course, the townsfolk of Santa Fe may not call you "son" as soon as you land on the premise. But, two bastard sons can dream, can't they?

"Planting crops. Splitting rails. Swapping tales around the fire," Pietro's grin grew as he spoke. He really thought about this a lot, didn't he? "Except for Sunday when you lie around all day."

Peter didn't know how much Pietro truly thought about leaving. Pietro's mind was full of places to go and see, places where he could take his family and live without having to deal with attacks from the U.S. government.

Santa Fe was where they'd go next in the U.S., but Sokovia was certainly the next best option. The U.S. government wouldn't come looking for them in Sokovia.

Right?

"Soon your friends are more like family, and they're begging you to stay! Isn't that neat?" Pietro asked as Peter took a large sip from his beer. "Living sweet in Santa Fe."

Pietro trailed off, almost in a dream-like state, making Peter flinch. He really fucking wanted out, huh?

"Hey, no one worries about a bad leg in Santa Fe. You just hop on a palomino, you'll ride in style!" Pietro joked, knocking his shoulder into his brother's.

"Feature me, ridin' in style," Peter giggled, taking a swig of his beer again.

"Hey, I bet a few months of clean air, you could toss that crutch for good!"

"Santa Fe," Peter and Pietro mumbled in unison, one happy and the other more tired. "You can bet, we won't let those bastards beat us. We won't beg anyone to treat us fair and square. There's a life that's worth the living, and I'm gonna do my share."

"Work the land, chase the sun." Pietro ran his hands through his hair, standing up.

"Swim the whole Rio Grande just for fun!" Pietro and Peter shouted together. The two had massive grins spreading across their faces, just happy to see the other smiling.

"Watch me stand!" Peter stood up quickly, only to feel a sharp pain jolt through his bad leg. His hands flew to the balcony railing, gripping it tightly as he let out a choked noise of pain.

"Watch me run..."

Pietro frowned when he saw his brother's grimace, watching Peter set himself down into a sitting position. The poor kid was gritting his teeth and sucking in harsh breaths as he set himself down.

"Hey, hey..." Pietro began softly, sitting down beside his brother before slapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you know that we're a family?"

Peter's eyes met Pietro's, painting over his grimace with a weak grin. "Yeah, b--"

"Would I let you down?" Pietro asked.

Peter let out a weak laugh as his brother continued.

"No way. Just hold on, kid, until that train makes Santa Fe."

The younger speedster let out a yawn, leaning his head on his brother's shoulder.

"Let's get you to bed, okay?" Pietro said, only getting a nod from Peter.

Pietro scooped his younger brother up in his arms, speeding through the mansion into Peter's room before setting him down.

"Good night, Peter."

"Good night, Pietro."

Pietro sped out of Peter's room, only to be stopped when he passed Wanda's room. His sleepy twin gave him a look, one that he didn't see often, and it concerned him.

"Pietro, we're being called to Sokovia," Wanda whispered sleepily.

"What? Why? All three of us?"

"No. Peter needs to stay here. He's got a broken leg, Pietro. Just you and I."

Pietro took in a quick breath before nodding.

"When do we leave?"

"... you didn't see that coming..."

A/N: Haha, cliffhangers are fun, ain't they? Okay, but, here's what you have for now! The other one is already in my drafts, and I've got plans for that! So, I'll get all that shit out, and we'll be good! I've got so much shit in my drafts, holy shit. Okay, uh... I don't have much to say, so thank you for reading! I don't necessarily have a tag list for this sort of stuff, so if you want to be on a tag list, let me know! And please let me know if you find a typo or something that doesn't make sense. Like I said, there's minimal editing.

#septic's stories #quicksilver #pietro maximoff #peter maximoff #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel fanfiction #x-men fanfiction #marvel #x-men

[willowistic22]

Famous!newsies

Ok so here are my famous!newsies headcanons from an a modern au i thought of if newsies were celebrities/famous yknow bcs I couldn’t get this idea out of my head and idk what to do with it other than making a headcanon list nabsnzbsvsnsbz anyways hope yall validate me after not posting any original content for like…. awhile now hehe

btw it got longer than expected. And I mean r e a l l y long. So if yall wanna read this better sit down and buckle up! 

Jack

He’s an artist on youtube

Like a modern day bob ross ig??

If yall know zhc on youtube just imagine that but not so rich (I don’t watch zhc btw but i do know that he does custom art on iphones and stuff and that is definitely not jack kelly)

Anyways Jack simply goes by Jack Kelly.

So jack does art challenges. Like does the weirdest requests from his fans left in his comment section and stuff

Or maybe challenging himself to make art from a specific theme or a specific media

Sometimes he vlogs too but his art videos are what his fans like the most

His merch is amazing because he designed the pattern/drawing/whatever yknow. It’s printed/sewed/whatever on the clothing and it’s good quality. It’s pretty lowkey for a youtuber’s merch bcs jack doesn’t like those merch that just smacks his logo on a hoodie

Davey

He’s a fantasy, YA, romance writer (he mixes it wisely ok?)

And goes by David Jacobs

Listen he’s a hopeless romantic and i’m pretty sure yall agree too

He wanted to stick to YA romance. The classic high school lovers yknow

But he wanted to challenge himself since he’s been writing about high school lovers since he was in high school

Thus the fantasy genre came in mind

So yeah he likes creating love in his own universe

Whether it’d be different worlds, universe, species, time periods, whatever.

He wanted to direct the movies based on his books, but he’s actually lowkey terrible at leading on his own. But he did stick to being the script writer and co-director (look idk how it works in the film industry i’m just making shit up)

Crutchie

He’s a solo jazz singer

Crutchie gives off Michael Buble and Jason Mraz vibes tho

And maybe a bit of frank sinatra? Yknow ‘cause he sings jazz

Also he riffs thank you very much :)

He goes by Crutchie Morris to everyone

He usually plays the acoustic guitar or piano on stage

Ok but he’s like really good with the piano

Makes the best jokes on stage too. Some are just sarcastic comments.

Crutchie asking through the microphone : “Oh, straight?”

A fan he’s talking to from the crowd : “Uhh… no, gay”

Crutchie : “no not you, the vodka”

Everyone at the concert : *laughs*

Crutchie, jokingly : “Oh, you’re drinking vodka! Straight? No gay”

(yes that was indeed inspired by that one video of Harry Styles and a fan in one of his concerts yall can’t stop me)

Kathrine

She’s a crime mystery writer

Think like the modern day Agatha Christie

Okok but she goes by Kathrine Plumber on her books :D

She chooses that genre bcs she’s a huge fan of Agatha Christie

Her favorite book from Agatha is Murder on the Orient Express

Oh and her books are sometime very gruesome alkjsfhakjsfb

Nobody check her browsing history, she’ll look like a murderer

Ok but I feel like she also has a youtube channel about books and stuff and sometimes like to vlog

She also has a writing tips series on her channel where she shares tips on some of the frequently asked questions about writing or her fans leave a specific question in the comment section and thought she could expand more to it in a full length video

Also she likes to vlog while she’s in a book convention

Her books are also turned into movies and she has done a great job directing it

Race

Yall would be lying to me if you don’t think this kid would end up being a twitch streamer and youtuber (like vlogging yknow. I feel like his gaming stuff would strictly be on twitch)

And ik it’s widely agreed by everyone in the fandom that he’s a dancer of some sort so yeah he’s also simultaneously a dancer

I don’t think I need to explain any further bcs it’s just so in character

He goes by Racetrack Higgins

Ok so he likes to vlog on his youtube channel

Sometimes does stupid challenges

Maybe he’d drag Albert to do a challenge which he always says no

“I’ll just be your cameraman dude, dw”

Race : *angery*

Since Al and Smalls are the skateboard peeps™ race is the rollerblade dude™ bcs I say so

He has three cats named Racecat Higgins, Spot Clawlon, and Romeow (i’ve mentioned it before and I will mention it again hehe) and his fans loves them endlessly

Albert

You don’t think this kid would also end up being a twitch streamer and youtuber like his bestie up there?? Lmao you thought wrong (again, gaming is strictly on his twitch)

He just goes by Albert DaSilva on the internet

And yes he’s also a dancer because I say so

On his Youtube channel he also vlogs

Half of his vlogs starts with him riding his skateboard

“Hey, guys! Welcome back to another vlog-” *falls off his skateboard for not paying attention to a curb*

It happens way more often than he’d like to admit let’s be real. His fans make a compilation of it and memes on reddit

Always wear a snapback

Snapbacks are an important element to him so his merch store is really boosting his snapbacks

And just for the wormsie discord server he has one with the word ranga on it after it being born from a stupid inside joke he, race, and both of their fanbases combined share (@ my wormsie fam thank me later)

Oh yeah, his youtube besties are Race and Smalls just so we’re clear here :) (I’ll get to Smalls in a bit)

So I always headcanon Albert having two big dobermans. So his fans always want to see a doggy update because Zara and Zoey are everything to them.

Doggo vlogs are fun. It’s usually Albert taking the two good girls to Central Park for playtime or teaching them new tricks

Spot

He’s a solo rock singer

Is an amazing singer like wow none of the newsies expected him to have that sort of pipes to reach high notes

And he does it amazingly with no sweat

Also his instrument is the electric guitar to go with his amazing singing ajsfhasjfhajhf

Anyways he goes by Spot Conlon still

And his songs are very lyrical. Like very.

A lot of metaphors. No one knows what most of his songs means.

So basically Taylor Swift songs if it switched genres to rock. And not even like songs from speak now or red. But like if evermore and folklore songs were to turn into rock songs with a little bit of reputation vibes sprinkled on top. And his concerts has the reputation era vibes but make it spot conlon (hey non swiftie fans reading this i’m so sorry i’m pretty sure yall don’t understand wtf i’m talking abt)

That is also the only way i know to describe his vibe i’m sorry but i don’t really listen to a lot of rock alkjhfasjk

Anyways it’s a known fact that he wears tank tops daily that it becomes his signature look. And also an inside joke among his fanbase

Now just picture the merch booth from one of his shows and there’s like endless tank top designs for his fans to pick and choose

He’s also crowned to be the King of Brooklyn bcs of obvious reasons

But the joke is he’s a pretty tough hardcore guy that’s a cat person

Sarah

She’s a badass female solo singer

Mostly does pop but the badass type of pop

Yes, she does go by Sarah Jacobs

Fans were really surprised Davey and Sarah are related

Because one is a hopeless romantic while the other is a total badass

Anyways she gives off Little mix, Ariana Grande, Taylor Swift, and Selena Gomez vibes

That is literally the only way I can describe it

She’s very lyrical, with a lot of metaphors

When she dances on stage, she d a n c e s

All while holding a mic to sing. And she hits all those high notes like it’s no ones business (a literal queen i tell you)

She and Spot are besties and has been known to have done a few collabs together

Their fans were hesitant about their collabs since their genre is pretty different from the other but they make it work and it slAPS

And among all her boppy songs with full choreography and backup singers, she always have a few songs she sings while only being accompanied by piano or guitar (Either electric or acoustic) which she plays on her own

Finch

He’s an indie pop artist with his trusted acoustic guitar by his side

Just think of music by Wallows and Lewis Capaldi were to be blended in together and Conan Gray for the cherry on top

But it has a little bit of Ed sheeran, Lorde, and Lauv vibes to it too

His concerts are simple but his songs are mostly very boppy so his fans still have fun either way

And it’s usually in small venues but there are times where he had a concert in a huge stadium

He goes by FINCH (yeah all caps btw)

Finches are a very on brand thing for him obviously

Has been known to collab with Crutchie and they actually make a very good team

Somehow was able to combined both genres to produce a few boppy songs

Ok ok but Finch and Crutchie have made a collaborative album (and maybe they went on tour????)

Specs 

He’s a history fiction writer

Yes this is inspired by the fact that he’s 100% a history nerd (no one change my mind i love this headcanon aight)

And he explores a lot of different histories from different parts of the world

He actually helps a lot of students understand history even further for school through his novels

Anyways he goes by Specs because I say so

No one knows why that’s his pseudonym and Specs isn’t interested in explaining either. No one other than the newsies need to know it was born from a stupid nickname the newsies gave him :)

His research mostly comes from history books because of his genre which wouldn’t be a problem since he has loads and will voluntarily buy more if needed

Also yeah he makes a great director for the movies taken from his books

Mush

He’s a chef on youtube

Goes by Mush Meyers

So think if Gordon Ramsey and his youtube channel but make it mush

Yeah that’s it really

Ok but Mush is a jolly and friendly person

Other than just food vlogging he does cooking challenges and cooking tips too

Sometimes he does the cooking challenges with a friend (mostly henry but i’ll get to him later on in the list)

But he also vlogs his life

Which isn’t really often but he likes to sometimes

He’s that big of a foodie he has a food blog too

And also a seafood restaurant so that’s cool :D

Henry

Like Mush, he’s a chef on youtube

Goes by Henry on the internet and in general

Ajkfhajfjska I’m thinking about how ppl would address him as Chef Henry kajhfkjlashfjklasfjklsf

He mostly does the same thing like Mush actually

Food vlogging and cooking challenges (they do it together so) sometimes cooking tips

But Henry vlogs his life a lot

And instead of a food instagram he has a food blog

He has a sandwich restaurant

Yeah it is inspired by his pastrami on rye with a sour pickle line from KONY get mad about it why don’t ya (well if i’m not mistaken henry was the one that said it but idk i have horrible memory) 

Blink

He’s a youtuber

Ok so I have a specific headcanon that Blink majored in psychology but didn’t end up being a psychologist

So instead he becomes a psychologist on youtube

Who often vlogs jhgasjlfhs

The guy looks like he could cut you but his sense of humor once you get him talking is just *chef’s kiss* amazing

Which is why he also has a podcast because he’s also secretly great at talking

He just thinks mental health is very important, okay?

Romeo

He’s an actor

Mostly on Broadway but has worked with Hollywood before

He’s usually a supporting character but has been known to understudy for main characters

Ok ik these bullet points are getting shorter and shorter but these are mostly bcs some of these stuff are pretty self explanatory since it’s very in character

Like are you telling me a kid named Romeo isn’t gonna be in some way very dramatic and end up turning that personality trait into his career?? Plus he’s very good at that?

Yeah you’re lying to me

Also he’s a pretty frequent vlogger on youtube

Look he’s a fun guy, what did you expect?

Just goes by Romeo on youtube

Elmer

He’s an actor

Has done his fair share in Broadway and Hollywood but started in Broadway

He can dance but thinks he’s pretty average in it yknow

Which his fans has no idea what he’s talking about because on stage he can do flips and turns like it’s no ones business yknow

But he can sing really good and takes pride in it

Elmer would play characters that is really far off from his own personality that fans couldn’t believe that Elmer played that character

He has done his fair share in main characters and supporting characters on Broadway

In Hollywood he usually does indie and rom-com movies

Buttons

He’s a fashion youtuber and basically an influencer 

Let’s be real this boy is a fashion icon

He’s not really a model but more like a fashion influencer and also kind of a fashion designer

His clothing line is very *chefs kiss* amazing

He designed it all and sometimes likes to design for his friends as well

He also does fashion tips on his youtube channel

His instagram game is god tier level (along with Tommy Boy and Sniper I’ll get to them in a bit) 

But yeah he also vlogs

And goes by Buttons Davenport

Jojo

He’s an actor

Mostly on Broadway but has done a few movies in Hollywood

He radiates main character energy and he does become the main character most of the time (on hollywood at least)

On Broadway he mostly enjoys being apart of the ensemble because this boy loves dancing

But he does play a few supporting characters

He has released one or two albums too because his singing is top tier

But isn’t interested in doing a lot of live concerts with his albums

Since no one has the time to say Josephino Jorgelino De La Guerra he turned it into Jojo De La Guerra (so much for ‘a special nickname only for friends and family’)

Mike and Ike

They’re a pop boy band and bcs of my lack of creativity it’s called Mike and Ike

At the start of their career :

“My name goes first because I’m older than you!” - Mike

“You’re only older than me by 13 minutes, holy shit!” - Ike

But Ike slowly accepts the fact that it’ll be like this yknow

Anyways they’re pretty great singers

They have one direction and new hope club vibes

Tho unlike one direction they can dance (i love the boys alright but i really think it’s funny that they can’t dancelkhjjlh)

They like to switch from the guitar (electric and/or acoustic) to the piano

The amount of times their name is confused by the candy is too many 

But they like it like that lol

Anyways i’ve mentioned a headcanon where Mike has tattoos (not like from head to toe but it’s fairly noticeable to everyone) and Ike has piercings

So the only way their fans tell them apart is by that

But there are times where Mike has his tattoos covered or Ike took his piercings off in public alone. A fan mistakens them for the other twin but they still respond to the other name because they don’t feel like there’s a need to correct them since they’re mostly known by Mike and Ike anyways. When the fan posts it on instagram and tags the twin they thought it was the twin that was tagged would comment “wrong twin but nice pic you two”

Happens wayyyyy too many times. Their fans are officially scared to approach one of the two in public alone without their differentiating indicators on which is which

And yes it is widely known that they argue a lot when it comes to writing songs

Nothing out of the ordinary sibling squabble yknow but it’s a lot

But they do end up finding a solution to the topic of their argument and make a good team at the end of the day

Hotshot

He’s an actor

On Broadway, he’s one of those actor’s that is mostly good in just the acting and singing

He can’t dance to save his life sjdfghaf

So Jeremy Jordan yknow asj;oghajshf

No not really. He can dance a little bit

So he’s mostly the main character

But he’s widely known for his works in Hollywood

He does a lot of drama. Think stuff like Elite and Designated Survivor. Yeah those kinds of heavy drama (well idk i think those two are pretty heavy)

He wants to release his own music because he’s a pretty good singer but he can’t write songs to save his life either jgnjafjasf

And all the demo songs he was suggested by producers isn’t his cup of tea

So he’s no singer ladies and gents ://

The name Hotshot is used to name his social media platforms. He always adds a description in his bio’s that Hotshot is a nickname his friends and family use so his fans and the media refer to him with his name

I headcanon Hotshot’s real name is Tyler or some sort. No don’t ask me what’s his last name is because idk either lol

Sniper

She’s a model, beauty and fashion youtuber (I’m pretty sure those are two different things tho idk i don’t watch youtube religiously anymore), and just an influencer in general

Instagram game on p o i n t

I know most beauty youtubers go by their names but uhh… i don’t think i’ve ever thought of a first name for Sniper but I really think she really would just go by Sniper Wah on the internet (Idk she seems like an Ashley in my head but feel free to recommend headcanon names to me)

Anyways she’s very fashionable

Tommy Boy (i’ll get to him just wait aight?) and Buttons are her fashion besties

The three of them pretty much appear in each other’s Youtube video not Tommy’s tho bcs he doesn’t have one lol

Sniper’s brand are huge sun hats

I have no idea how or why but that girl has sun hats vibes I can’t explain any further I’m sorry

Doesn’t have a clothing line but does have a make up brand of her own. She calls it Sniper. Yeah that’s it akjfhjf

Smalls

She’s a twitch streamer and youtuber like race and albert

They’re a youtube trio everyone loves it

And yes she does go by Smalls

Oh and she also dances like her two stupid besties thanks for asking

Bubblegum is her brand (idk how to explain she just has the vibe)

She is skateboard chick

I’m imagining a video collab of her and Al on a skatepark doing stupid challenges

It’s her most viewed video

Tommy Boy

Ok ok he’s a model, influencer, and dancer

So think a male version of Gigi Hadid that dances

No he doesn’t have a youtube channel but frequently has made an appearance on Buttons’ and Sniper’s videos

Yes his instagram feed is also very amazing

He goes by Tommy Boy

People genuinely thinking ‘Boy’ is actually his last name and kinda think it’s strange but doesn’t complain

Tommy literally didn’t think people would think it was his last name. But they did anyways

Les

Let’s just get straight to the point : he’s a famous tiktoker 

And yes, ppl are surprised at the fact that him, Davey, and Sarah are related to each other 

To the people that made it through this entire list. Congratulations and thank you for your validation. Have a wonderful evening and stay hydrated 

i will write at least one oneshot out of this au i promise!!

#newsies #newsies headcanons #random writing #jack kelly #davey jacobs #crutchie morris #katherine pulitzer #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #spot conlon #sarah jacobs #finch cortez #specs newsies #mush newsies #henry newsies #kid blink #romeo newsies #elmer kasprzak #buttons davenport #jojo de la guerra #mike and ike newsies #hotshot newsies #sniper newsies #smalls newsies #tommy boy newsies #les jacobs #writing these tags makes me realize how many newsies are there #and there are actually still more oh god- #tw cursing #tw alcohol mentions

[livesincerely]

Part two of an ask from @deliciouspeachpirate that said “Hey there! I'm so sorry the election is upsetting you, I totally get it, its pretty awful. Could you do kiss on the cheek/forehead kiss for Jack and Crutchie (platonically of course) and possessive/desperate kiss for Jack and Davey? 10,000 points to whatever your Hogwarts house is if the Javid kiss is in the rain. I hope you are able to relax and feel better soon! I'm always here if you want to vent or anything<3”

The cheek kiss is here: x

00000

Possessive Kiss (in the Rain)

It’s a sizzling hot afternoon, only made tolerable by another surprise summer rain shower. Jack’s leaning against a set of boxes the guys haven’t got to yet, sipping slowly at a canteen of water, ordered to sit his ass down and ‘rest for ten goddamn minutes, Jackie, or I swear to god—‘ and Jack’s long since learned not to argue with Davey when it comes to stuff like this.

His eyes track slowly around the square—there’s Racetrack and Albert bickering about the best ways to coil a sodden pile of rope, Hotshot, Sniper, and Smalls cleaning away broken shingles, pieces of trash, and random bits of laundry blown into the courtyard by the storm, Specs, Tommy Boy, Henry, Spot, and Myron working on securing a piece of fallen fencing back into place—but his gaze is always, inevitably drawn back to Davey.

He’s gotten his hands on an old broom one of the Newsies pulled outta some backroom, using his height to knocks leaves, sticks, and dirt out of the Brooklyn Lodging House’s gutters. Every few minutes he has to stop to push his sopping wet fringe out of his face, rivets of water streaming down the bridge of his nose and off the high points of his cheeks, and he stripped off his vest some half an hour ago due to the heat, leaving him in just his now-transparent button up, which is doing absolute fuck all to conceal the strong set of his shoulders and the lean lines of his back.

Jack’s not sure how long he’s been staring when a voice chimes up, “Yeah, he’s a looker, ain’t he?”

He turns to look: another Newsie has wandered over at some point while Jack was distracted, one that he hasn’t spoken to before. He’s about Jack’s height but looks to be a year or two younger, with a sharp shock of carrot orange hair and a face full of freckles, dressed in Brooklyn red and navy—Jack thinks he remembers someone calling him Rooster. He’s staring at Davey with open desire.

“What’s that?” Jack says, frowning.

“That guy you’re eyeing up—Davey, I think his name is?” Rooster says, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his across his chest, but never taking his eyes off Davey. “He’s really somethin’, huh?”

Jack feels his jaw start to clench, nostrils flaring. Rooster doesn’t seem to notice, continuing with, “I didn’t even wanna help with all this stupid, clean-up shit, but I sure am glad Spot made me come along, ‘cause the view more than makes up for the work. It’s just a fuckin’ shame that he’s taken, or else I’d go over there and... introduce myself, if you know what I mean,” he finishes with a smirk.

“You would, would ya?” Jack asks, very evenly.

“Sure,” Rooster answers, easy as anything. “A fella as pretty as that? You don’t see that every day—gotta get ya kicks in as they come, ya know?”

“Right,” Jack grinds out.

At that moment, Davey lifts up on his toes, trying to get at a particularly stubborn bit of debris caught in the corner of the gutters, and the new position only highlights the way his rain-soaked slacks cling to every last inch of him.

Rooster lets out a low whistle; Jack grits his teeth at the sound of it. “Damn, that’s nice. I’d love to get my hands on an ass that swee—“

Jack shoots to his feet so abruptly that the rest of Roster’s comment is lost to the wind. He starts towards Davey, something hot and a little frenzied scorching through his veins.

“Hey, pal, that ain’t a good idea,” Rooster calls after him when he realizes Jack’s intention. “Like I said before, he’s already taken, and I hear the guy he’s courting ain’t too keen on people tryin’ta move in on his fella. He’s the leader of Manhattan, so you proba’ly don’t wanna get on his bad side.”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, more of a growl than a word, not even turning to look back at the other boy as he stalks forward. “You really don’t.”

As if sensing Jack’s approach, Davey sets his broom down and takes a step back from the outer wall, turning towards him just as Jack stops in front of him. Davey looks at him from beneath the mop of sodden curls plastered to his forehead, then runs his tongue over his lower lip, licking away the raindrops that have gathered there. He raises an eyebrow: “I thought I told you to take a break—“

Jack curls a hand around Davey’s neck, palm splayed wide over the curve of his jaw, and draws him into a heated kiss. It’s slow and searing, Jack stepping closer and tilting Davey’s head just so—until he can press harder, press deeper—tongue sweeping in to plunder and devour and claim.

“Jack,” Davey says, half scolding, half breathless. His mouth has gone deliciously kiss-swollen, his eyes a little dazed. “What was that for?”

Jack kisses him once more, a chaste little peck, then pulls him in, nuzzling at Davey’s neck as his hands slide down to sit low on Davey’s hips. Over Davey’s shoulder he can see Rooster staring at them, wide eyed and stiff as a board. Jack pins him with a steely stare and a smile that’s all teeth, and the other boy goes starkly pale beneath his freckles.

“Maybe I just think you’re gorgeous,” Jack murmurs, lips brushing against Davey’s ear. “Maybe you’re just irresistible.”

“Uh huh,” Davey says, not fooled for a second. “What is it, really?”

“You’ve got somethin’ of an admirer.”

“Oh?” Davey says dryly, following Jack’s gaze over to where Rooster still sits, frozen. He arches an eyebrow and, because he can be just as much of a sarcastic asshole as Jack is, gives a little wave. Rooster lets out a squeak, audible even at this distance, and scurries away, tail between his legs. “And what did he say that set you off?”

“Nothing worth repeatin’,” Jack rumbles, planting a kiss to Davey’s temple. “Don’t worry about it.”

Davey gives him a look, one that says that he’s not buyin’ what Jack’s sellin’ but is choosing to let it go for now. “Possessive bastard,” he comments affectionately. “You’re ridiculous, Jackie, love.”

“Guilty as charged, sweetheart,” Jack says with a shrug, trying and failing to hide a smile. “Guilty as charged.”

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #Javid #*ask game #*ask #*the writing desk #*editor's note #let's cut to the chase series #🤗🤗🤗 #have some more possessive Jack Kelly for the holidays

[zacc-attacc]

Firstly - I really love good puns, so your username made my day xD

Then, for your request thing - would you maybe write a Sprace OneShot that plays in the canon era? Maybe some sort of friends-to-lovers thing?

Thanks :)

First of all, thank you for the request! And for the compliment, of course.

ANYWAYS, HISTORICAL SPRACE, HERE WE GO BABS.

Sweet-Talker- A Historical Sprace Fic

Word Count: 2k

I wasn’t supposed to fall in love. Period. Especially with a boy. I was Spot Conlon, the King of Brooklyn. Not some blithering idiot who brings flowers to some idiot boy halfway across New York. I had made a pledge, not only to myself but to the others. I was responsible for them. 

So why was I falling for a stupid blond Manhattan boy with an addiction to soggy cigars?

I still remember the first time I saw him-- on a pape I was selling to a regular buyer. It was just a black and white picture, which hardly did any justice to how handsome he was in color. But even among 20 or so other newsboys, I felt a flutter in my stomach when I looked into his eyes. 

Disgusting, I thought as I sold the paper. Is this what the boys were talking about? Sparks flying and all that sappy shit?

If I had been smart, I would’ve sold all my papes and kept my distance from the strike. From Cigar Boy. 

Brooklyn don’t get caught up in things that ain’t our deal, I reminded myself. 

But Race, as I learned later, tends to bring out the worst in me. So I did the dumb thing. I sold all but one of my papes (I couldn’t bring myself to just… Give him away like that. For what? A penny?) and ran to Manhattan. 

Where it was a full-blown war. Pulitzer had called in dozens of goons (but, of course, couldn’t be bothered to show up himself), an army of policemen, and the only cop the newsboys truly feared-- Snyder. The only man who had succeeded in locking up the two most resilient Newsies of New York- Jack Kelly, and yours truly. 

I watched in horror as bottles were thrown, teenage boys were hit by adults, even a smaller boy who needed a crutch to walk was beaten with his own crutch. And I knew I couldn’t do the smart thing, the Brooklyn thing ever again. Not for this.

I ran to join my brethren, letting myself give in to the adrenaline of a battle. Luckily for me, most people were too lost in the chaos to notice me. 

All except for one. 

As cops ran, chasing boys as if they were prey that they would likely never catch, who other than Cigar Boy walked over to me, spitting blood out of his mouth and extending his hand for a handshake. 

“Well, well, well, to whats do we owe the pleasure of Spot Conlon of Brooklyn?” He said, giving me a tired grin. He didn’t have a cigar between his lips, but he did have one sticking out of his pocket. I shook his hand, noticing that even after he had literally been beaten up for an hour plus, his handshake was firm. 

“Okay there, Sluggo, we’ll talk when you ain’t bleeding from the head,” I said gruffly, turning and starting to walk back towards Brooklyn. If I could convince the boys, we could come back later and tell Manhattan we were joining the strike. 

“The lodge is this was,” the boy pointed to the opposite direction of where I was heading. I gave a light laugh. 

“No, no. I’s best get goin’ so you’s can patch up.” 

“There ain’t no way I’s letting you walk halfway across New York after getting beaten up,” the boy protested, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the lodge. 

“I’ve been through worse,” I protested, attempting to dislodge my arm from his grasp. 

“Well, ya’int goin’ through that again. Now c’mon. We has some bandages back at the lodge for that cut of yours,” he said, gesturing to the deep cut in my upper arm. I sighed in defeat and started walking. 

“Just so you know… This is just to make sure yous don’t pass out in the streets on the way there,” I clarified. The boy just rolled his eyes and chuckled. 

“For New York’s most feared Newsie, you sure is worried about someone you just met today.”

“I’m feared, but I an’t heartless, sweet-talker. I don’t want another life on my conscience.” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. What kind of monster did he think I was? Race stopped walking. I looked up and saw a complex setup of fire escapes, rails, and a rooftop where a newsboy who could only be Jack Kelly was pacing.

“Fair enough. Well, we’s here… So I’s just gonna swing up, grab my stuff, I can meet you down here,” the boy said, grabbing onto some rungs of a fire escape and climbing up with surprising nimbleness. It was as if the battle had barely affected him. That, or he was still riding the adrenaline rush. 

“No, no. Take care of your boys. I won’t die,” I said, hearing the panic in my tone. If Jack saw me with no reinforcements, he’d start to think we were fully on board. And if Brooklyn wasn’t, and word got around that I had already fought… It wouldn’t be good. They would accuse me of being a traitor. I couldn’t risk that.

“Ey, no, that wasn’t part of our agreement!” he yelled as I walked away. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Next time, have me shake on it, sweet-talker!” I shouted back, turning around to see his impish grin. My muscles were screaming in protest from overuse, but I had to get home before dark. 

“The name’s Racetrack Higgins!” was the last I heard before breaking into a sprint. 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

And here we are now. Strike over, prices back, nobody dead, everyone happy.

Except for me. 

Because I wasn’t supposed to fall in love, but here it came. Striding down the hill with a cigar in its mouth.

I could feel the unease in the boys beside me. We weren’t used to soloing Newsboys in our area, barely after selling hours, no less. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” I muttered to them, walking towards Race. 

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here,” I hissed, grabbing his shoulders and fake-shoving him to look like I was giving him a serious talking-to. He couldn’t know we knew each other. It had to look like we were fighting.

“Well, Conlon, I thought we’d had a moment there,” Race whisper-shouted back, shoving me as well. I lowered my voice to an even quieter tone. 

“Meet me in your alleyway after sundown.”

He looked at me, confusion on his face, but nodded numbly and ran away. 

I heaved a sigh and turned to go spin some fake tale about why he was there.

That boy is going to be the death of me.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Why’d you chase me out like that, Conlon?” Race asked, leaning against the brick wall of the Newsboy lodge. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. 

I hated it. 

“Because, Higgins, the boys don’t like strange Manhattan Newsies on our turf,” I half-spat. How stupid could he get? Didn’t he understand what was at stake here?

“You’re mad at me,” he said, his eyes flashing with realization. 

“Yeah, no shit,” I muttered, starting to pace. This was a bad idea. Why did I keep letting myself come back to him? Why was I constantly subjecting myself to the one thing I couldn’t have?

“Why? I just wanted to see you again,” he protested, walking towards me. I turned around to face him, my nose practically touching his chin.

“‘Cause we ain’t supposed to be friends. The boys see you hangin’ around Brooklyn, they’ll think yous tryin’ to prove something. And you know what they do to boys that ain’t ours? They beat ‘em up. Then, they bring them to me. And I decide if they’s gets a real pounding. But do I have a choice? No! Once they’s decides yous getting beat, my say hardly matters. If I randomly tell them to let someone go, I’m considered soft. Then we both get beat. Do you see what they’ve done to some boys? I ain’t letting that happen to you, Race! I’m not patching up your wounds because I couldn’t control-”

“Spot.,” Race cut me off. I froze. It was the first time he had used my full name. 

“What?” I asked bitterly. I noticed my eyes were burning. Why were they burning? What was this hellish sensation?

I felt something warm trickle down my face. 

Oh. My. God. I was crying. Crying! I hadn’t cried in four years! All about some idiot boy who had lovely eyes and blond hair and was empathetic and made me genuinely laugh and feel safe for the first time in years-

Race stepped forward, crushing the distance between us in one stride (damn tall people), and then… Hugged me. 

I hadn’t been really hugged in seven years, since I had made it to Brooklyn. Well, I had received bro hugs. Light ‘ey, whaddup’ hugs. But this… This was the type of hug that I hadn’t received since my parents had died. The type of hug that shields you from the outside world, that makes you feel like an atomic bomb could go off and they could protect you from it. 

It was so strange, so human. I hadn’t been treated like a real person for so long.

“It’s really like that, huh,” Race whispered, stroking my back. I felt goosebumps appear on my skin. How much feeling had I forced myself to miss out on? 

“It’s just… A lot. I mean… I’ve always known I would give my life for those boys, they’re my everything. But… I don’t know if they would for me. I don’t even know how much they truly respect me. I can’t even say if they’d respect this new rule I’ve been thinking of putting in place,” I said, not moving from my place in Race’s grasp. 

“And what would that be?” Race muttered, rocking back and forth. It was… nice. 

“No beating up on Racetrack Higgins ‘cause he deserves the world,” I said, my voice still muffled in his shirt. He chuckled. 

“I hardly deserve the world… But… Could I have you?” there was this caution in his voice, so different from the constant suave tone he took on while talking with me. But, then again, I of all people was sobbing into a boy’s chest, so this night turned out to be the night of all the unthinkable. 

“I don’t know if that’s what you really want, but… You can have me, sweet-talker,” I said, tipping up my head and meeting his lips in a kiss. 

It wasn’t sudden, or brash like most would’ve thought our first kiss would be like. No, it was slow and sweet. Because even if our relationship was loud and chaotic, we could take pieces of it as slow as we wanted. 

And now, I can say that my sweet-talkers lips are just as sweet as his words.

A/N: Thank y’all so much for reading! if you have any sort of prompts, pop on over to my asks! Love y’all! <3 

#newsies #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #historical #newsies the broadway musical #fanfiction #spot conlon x racetrack higgins #sprace #racetrack higgins X spot conlon #strike #newsies fanfiction #sprace fanfiction #dice writes

[agentsnickers]

*chants* more soulmates sprace! more soulmates sprace! more soulmates sprace! Please?

I’m so sorry I’m pretty sure I’ve requested this before but your AU is really good and it’s killing me in the way really good fics do so please whether it gets a happy ending or not???

It takes almost a month after the strike - and, more importantly, his outburst at Spot - for Race to venture back to Brooklyn.

He’s hoping just to spend the day at the racetrack, but he should’ve known he wouldn’t get that far. He barely makes it across the bridge, in fact, before a Brooklyn newsie has him shoved against a wall with his shirt clenched in an iron fist.

“I don’t know what you said to him, Higgins,” Hotshot spits, her expression and posture entirely too intimidating for her barely five foot frame. If Race had any doubts about her blood relation to Spot, the cold glare she’s giving him would confirm the resemblance beyond arguing. “But he’s been so fucking weird since the last time you two talked -”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Race says, moderately honestly. 

“Spot, you dumbass,” says Hotshot. She presses Race harder against the wall. Race is pretty sure he could get out of this if he wanted to, but honestly Hotshot scares him. “He’s been all quiet and introspective and shit, and I know it’s your fault. Fix him.”

“I wasn’t plannin’ on seein’ Spot today, actually,” says Race.

“Oh, I know,” Hotshot says. “Only I figure I know what’s up wit’ the two’a you, and I ain’t puttin’ up with it no more. He’s your soulmate, ain’t he?”

Race nods silently.

“Ugh, boys,” Hotshot grumbles. “Look, Racer, I don’t wanna get involved in your shit, but if you don’t talk to Spot and snap him outta this weirdass mood, I will personally throw you in the fucking river.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Race, “heard. Where is he?”

Which is how he ends up dumped at Spot’s feet by a tiny, angry newsgirl. 

“Heeeey, Spotty boy,” Race greets awkwardly, getting to his feet. “Hotshot’s pretty damn strong.”

“She gets a lotta practice haulin’ idiots around. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hotshot says you’ve been actin’ weird, and she wanted me to ‘fix it’ like it’s my fault somehow,” Race says as casually as he can.

Spot’s face falls, though. “Not your fault. But because of you.”

“I don’t regret what I said, Spot,” Race says, tucking his hands into his pockets. “If you don’t want me that’s fine, but I don’t have to suffer through it.”

“It’s not I don’t want you, Race,” Spot replies quietly.

“No, you don’t want a weak spot. That’s worse.”

“People I’m close with ain’t safe!” says Spot. He pulls Race by the wrist into an alley, and apparently it’s just a day for getting manhandled by people who are more than a full head shorter than him. “We do the soulmate thing and it puts you in the middle of my shit, and that means you’re in danger. I can’t go takin’ risks with you like that, and I can’t afford the distraction.”

“Distraction,” Race repeats.

Spot’s grip on Race’s arm tightens. “Are you hearing me, Racer? I want you safe. You’re safer not involved with me.”

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t wanna be involved with you,” Race lies.

“Ain’t just you, anyway,” Spot says in a low voice. 

“What, you got a second soulmate squirrelled away somewhere?”

“Nah,” says Spot. He gives Race a small smile. “Just got more’n soulmates to worry about. There’s a reason Hotshot and I don’t advertise our relationship, either.”

“But she’s still your sister. And I’m still your soulmate.” Race meets Spot’s gaze very carefully. “You can say or not say whatever you want. Those relationships don’t go away.”

“No,” says Spot. “They don’t.” He sighs, breaking eye contact. “I’m sorry, Racer. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t wanted.”

“Well, you did,” Race replies. “I know you’d be happier without a soulmate, Spotty, you don’t have to apologise for it. That’s life, I guess.” He wrenches his arm from Spot’s grip, making back toward the street. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll stay outta your hair. Wouldn’t want you getting distracted.”

#sprace #newsies #finn writes fic #imprint au

[ubernoxa]

The Slippery Slope: An Izzy Stradlin Fanfiction

Chapter 1: Penguin on a Leash

MASTERLIST

Story Summary: 6 Chapter mini series about Izzy meeting a biologists who works at the zoo. Takes place after his time with Guns an’ Roses

Izzy watched the penguins swim around in their habitat trying to understand what all the hype was about. Lafayette had fliers and banners advertising the new baby penguins that were born at the zoo only a couple of weeks before he moved back to his hometown. After quickly realizing that he had fallen into a rut since leaving Guns N’ Roses, he decided to mix things up and visit the zoo to see these overhyped penguins and alleged peaceful gardens that were pictured in half the advertisements he saw.

It was around 2 pm, and Poppy felt relief that there were no children tours on Fridays. Since it was slow she was granted the permission to take one of the injured penguins on a walk. This was without a doubt one of those moments when she was glad that she went to college.

“Yeah Phil, that’s where you will live once your flipper gets a little better,” Izzy’s attention was pulled from watching the penguins swim about when he heart the soft voice followed by some form of squawking and giggles.

“Yeah, and then once you are fully healed, you get to go back to Chile!” Izzy found the soft voice to be a girl, probably only a few years younger than him, talking to one of the penguins who she had on a leash. Maybe it would have been considered weird, but after touring with Guns, the bar for what was actually weird was high. Girl dressed in full wetsuit while walking around a penguin on a leash just wasn’t weird enough.

“What’s wrong with his flipper?” Poppy’s attention was pulled from her penguin when Izzy spoke. She sent a soft smile towards Izzy, just another zoo patron. She felt a sigh escape her as she quickly looked around to make sure they were alone.

“Poor thing was found cut up on a beach. We’re guessing that he got cut up by a piece of steel, but he is healing really well, such a trooper. I will be sad to see him go,” Izzy held onto every word as she spoke. It was clear that she loved her penguin friend. With her soaked hair and wetsuit, he wondered if she recent went swimming with the penguin.

“Did you two just come from a swim?”

Izzy felt a small smile grow on his face as she giggled at his question.

“No. Before this walk I was checking up on a Dolphin and Edward startled me causing me to fall into the water....I swear sometimes dolphins can be really rude,” Poppy fwlt small butterflies begin to flap their wings in her stomach. The nerves were beginning to soar.

Poppy smiled as Izzy listened to her go on and on about how their little zoo volunteered to help Phil the penguin get better. He was her pride and joy, and there was no doubt that she would be crying when he went back to the wild. They would be happy tears, but tears none the less.

Poppy was shocked when Izzy hadn’t started to show disinterest half way through her rambling. Little did she know that not only was Izzy actually interested, but he was also used to someone rambling about animals. The penguins were a good change from snakes.

“Do you only work with penguins?”

“No, I work with most of the water creatures here. I stay away from the reptile house, those snakes creep me out. I don’t trust them,” Poppy felt a shiver travel through her as she thought of the snakes, or danger noodles as she called them behind closed doors. It wasn’t professional for someone who had a doctorate in zoology to call snakes danger noodles...even if that’s what they were.

“I’m Poppy by the way,” she sent a warm smile Izzy’s way after silence filled the air in between them.

“Izzy,” Izzy reached out his hand and quickly shook Poppy’s wet hand. He was almost shocked she hadn’t recognized him.

“Is this your first time here in the zoo?” Poppy asked hoping to keep the conversation alive. He was definitely the quiet type, but she liked that. She also liked that he was incredibly hot.

“I haven’t been here for at least 15 years....” Izzy watched the penguin Poppy was walking look at the photos of penguins that hung on the wall for decoration. Izzy decided it was strange seeing a penguin outside of its inclosure, but he figured it was strange seeing a rockstar in a zoo.

“Well I have only been here for one year, but a lot has changed. I’m already giving Phil, my penguin buddy here, a tour...would you like to join us? It would help me look more normal because I would be talking to an actual human instead of just a penguin. All that I ask would be for you to help keep your eyes out for any zoo patrons. I’m supposed to be avoiding visitors,” she hoped, no prayed that Izzy would join her. It was clear that he wasn’t from around here by the way he dressed, and she wanted to know what type of cowboy wore a floppy hat like the ones they worse in the musical Newsies.

After a quick chuckle, Izzy replied. “Well you haven’t been very good about staying away from zoo visitors, so I think you could use the help.” Truth be told, Izzy almost said no, but there was something about her silver eyes that caught his attention.

Poppy spent the next couple of hours giving Izzy the most in depth tour she could. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was definitely showing off. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had listened to her ramble this much, and she was going to take full advantage of it. She could hear her mother in the back of her head lecturing her on how she was boring the poor boy to death, but whenever he asked a question or sent a small smile her way she pushed that thought to the back of her head.

Izzy quickly learned that he could listen to her talk about her animals all day. Her silver eyes appeared a little greener whenever she talked about them. Her cheeks would blush and the tips of her ears would turn a little red whenever she apologizes for rambling, but Izzy would always reassure her that it was fine. This only made her cheeks go redder. He had to admit, it was pretty cute.

“That ones name is Edward. He is the one who startled me this morning resulting in me falling into the water,” Poppy pointed at one of the larger dolphins in the far right corner.

“He is defiantly my favorite then,” Izzy teased while looking the aquatic beast up and down.

“Edward doesn’t seem like a dolphin name,” he added walking over towards the dolphin she pointed out. He took another sip of the water that she had given him earlier in the tour. With all of their walking she didn’t want him to get dehydrated.

“That’s why I call him Axl,” this caught Izzy off guard causing him to choke on his water. After a couple of coughs he was able to regain his composure.

“Axl?”

“Yeah of Guns N’ Roses...he’s the lead singer, and according to the tabloids he is horny dick. Edward here shares a similar personality. I heard in a interview not too long ago that Axl is apparently from Lafayette, so I thought it was perfect,” she shrugged before she went back to watching the penguin who was clearly interested in his dolphin ‘friends’.

Izzy smirked as he watched dolphin Axl swim around. He wondered if she was a fan of Guns N’ Roses or just heard of the music. It was almost impossible to avoid hearing about the band. He had been trying to avoid the band entirely for weeks now. Bottom line, he appreciated that she didn’t know who he was. What he was or used to be.

“Looks like Axl is taking a liking to you,” she giggled as she pointed towards the dolphin that was clearly staring at him. Poppy giggled as Izzy moved left and right trying to test to see if the dolphin was actually looking at him. He felt like a fool, but her laugh was worth him making a fool of himself.

“If you ever want to go swimming with your new buddy, let me know. Usually Axl doesn’t like guys, but he seems like he wouldn’t be against swimming with you,” he turned to see the girl smiling from ear to ear.

“No, I’m good. I don’t feel like dealing with a horny Axl,” this earned a giggle from Poppy. It was true though, he had dealt enough with his Axl’s bull shit for years, and he didn’t need to meet the dolphin version.

“Well.....if you ever change your mind,” Poppy walked over towards a small table filled with fliers and grabbed one. She quickly flipped to the page that had her picture on it and wrote her phone number on it.

“This is my personal number, feel free to call it to go swimming....or...if you want to talk about other things. I’m sure you have heard enough about sea creatures to last you a while,” Poppy felt her cheeks flash red as she turned her focus towards the penguin, too intimidated to look Izzy in the eyes.

“Sure,” he said before she waved goodbye and headed behind a staff only door, penguin right behind her.

He opened the brochure and looked at the about our staff page she had written her number on. She looked very different in that photo. Her wetsuit was replaced by a white lab coat where the red hair that framed her face caused her freckles to stand out even more.

Doctor Poppy Thomas is our second aquatic specialist. As a proud Indiana Alumni, Dr Poppy earned her masters and PHD at Purdue University with a focus on animal rehabilitation and psychology. Poppy joined us during the Summer of 1990, and has become a quick favorite amongst the penguins.

Poppy couldn’t help the smile that was plastered on her face as she brought Philip back to the rehab room. She couldn’t believe that she had actually given someone her phone number. She was so proud of herself. Was it professional? No.

Did she do it anyway? Yes.

Plus if anyone asked she could just give a little while lie and say that he was writing a paper and needed to get a hold of her.

“Someone is in a good mood,” Poppy looked over towards Dr Elliot who was reading some academic journal.

“Went on a walk with Philip, he is moving his arm a lot better. He appears to almost have full range. Don’t ya buddy?” Poppy looked at the penguin who was minding his own business.

“Ohh good to hear Poppy!” Sally, one of their technicians, cheered while helping Poppy take off the harness.

“So who was the guy you were showing around? Was he someone who donated a lot of money or something?” Sally asked the moment Dr Elliot left the room.

Despite only being a vet technician, she had more experience with how their Zoo worked than Poppy. Sally had worked at the Zoo for over 10 years, and no one gets a tour unless they are someone special. Now if they were special to Poppy or to the Zoo was a totally different question.

“No, just a visiting paying patron of the zoo,” Poppy shrugged back.

Sally smirked as she saw the red hues fill Poppy’s cheeks. Did someone have a small crush?

“A cute paying patron?”

“I...uhhh...I didn’t notice,” this only earned a laugh from Sally.

“Ohh honey...one of the volunteers asked me why you were giving a tour to a cute guy who looked to be about you age ,” Sally smirked the entire time she was talking.

Poppy just brushed off her comment and went to change out of her wetsuit. Sally was married with two children, so she lived through Poppy. It was something Poppy had grown used to. Whether it was Sally telling her to go out to a bar or to see some concert, Sally would make the recommendations. Her recommendations would also include guys to date, her very unwanted recommendations.

Poppy then spent the rest of the day checking up on the other animals, Izzy never slipping her mind. She then drove home, trying to get her mind off of the boy she gave a tour to. She sang along to songs on the radio all while feeling bad for anyone nearby who heard her poor vocal skills. Once she got home, she walked into her cozy one bedroom apartment and immediately walked over towards her kitchen and began to cook. The entire time she never took her eyes off of the phone.

She grew impatient as dinner turned into watching a show which turned into showering and heading to bed. All hope of Izzy calling her diminished as she curled up under the covers.

Almost in parallel Izzy sat on his couch, silence filling the air. He had debated back and forth on whether or not to call her. He could hear his band mates...ex-bandmates in the back of his head giving him their unwanted advice. Axl was saying to move on, he was a rockstar and she was nothing. Slash was saying something about how she would be a good fuck because doctors know the human anatomy best. Steven and Duff were saying to go for it because she was cute. He let a groan escape him as he plopped down on the couch. Chicks were so much easier when he was in a band.

Izzy soon found himself digging through his bag that was filled with sheet music and other crap, eventually finding the flier with her number. He then found his phone and dialed the number, hoping it wasn’t too late. He turned towards the large black clock that hung on the wall. He cussed to himself as he noticed it was 3 in the morning.

He had almost lost hope when the phone continued to ring, but he felt a smile cross his face when he heard a groggy hello from the other end.

“Hey, Poppy? This is Izzy.”

#gnr fanfiction #gnr fanfic #gnr imagine #guns and roses fanfic #guns and roses imagine #guns and roses fanfiction #guns n roses fanfiction #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fanfic #guns n’ roses fanfic #guns n’ roses imagine #guns n’ roses fanfiction #izzy stradlin fanfic #izzy stadlin fanfiction #izzy stradlin imagine