#newsies live imagines

[heliads]

:D yay!!! I love your Newsies stuff sm (and yes you absolutely should rewatch its amazing). If you have time could you maybe write a Race x fem!reader where she's like Spot's second command and kinda like the "mum" of the Brooklyn kids - they go to her for like comfort and when they have injuries or have problems etc. And she's kinda reserved and such but became friends with Race from when he'd spend time in Brooklyn, and after the strike (during like KONY I guess) he goes to find her to ask for her help like getting everyone fixed up and the like, and at some point from there onwards it's like FEELINGS yknow? No worries if not! Only if you're inspired and have time and such :) I love your writing - you're so v talented xx

grateful for your support in my rewatching newsies agenda. anything for you anon xoxo

masterlist

There’s a newsie from Manhattan wandering your streets again. He’s not supposed to be crossing over into Brooklyn like this, none of them are, but for some reason that hasn’t stopped Race Higgins from showing up time and time again. 

It’s not like this should really matter. Shouldn’t, anyway. Brooklyn is messy and getting messier. One particularly plucky Manhattan boy shouldn’t have an impact on what you’re doing on a day to day basis. Spot’ll do some nonsense involving a good threat or two to scare the guy off. This sort of thing happens once a month, but Brooklyn always ends up on top. Always.

That hasn’t seemed to sway Race, though. Last time he tried this, one of the other Brooklyn generals was in a fighting mood and nearly left the blond with a black eye had you not stepped in and put a stop to the scuffle before it started. No one needed any more trouble when you’ve already got so much as is, or so you claimed.

Truth be told, you’re not really sure why you helped Race out. It’s not like you’ve got any particular fondness for the guy, he keeps bothering you whenever he sneaks over the turf boundaries. It’s like he has a sixth sense for figuring out where you are whenever you’re selling papes. Even when you tell him to bug off and leave you alone, he’ll just start selling half a block down from you, or right across the street. Just close enough that you can see the trademark grin on his face when you roll your eyes and do your best to ignore him.

At the end of the day, it’s not something that should be the pull of too much of your attention. It’s Race, for goodness’ sake, not a rogue Delancey brother or someone who could actually cause you grief. Race just wants to make you laugh, which is weird of him to do but not actually dangerous.

Dangerous is the rest of Brooklyn. Dangerous is what waits for Race when he’s not halfway in your shadow. Dangerous is what made you Spot Conlon’s second in command when there were so many other newsies vying for the title. You know dangerous, and you know how to handle it, how to keep your boys safe. That’s what you should be focusing on the most, not errant Manhattan newsboys who keep getting alarmingly close to making you crack a smile.

But. Well. It is easier to think of boys than trouble. Boys try to make you laugh, for the most part. They don’t come back under the cover of the dead of night, bloody and trembling, talking to you about cops and thugs busting up strikes, about workers from the Refuge who want to brazenly take kids off the street just so they can keep up their numbers. They didn’t always.

Then they did, and suddenly you weren’t quite so easy with your temper and gait anymore. Race was usually quick to a smile, a laugh, a joke. He’d offer you a cigar free of charge, then swear like a sailor at any other boy who tried to even look at his prized possession. You were different, he didn’t want to trouble you. 

So he said. Didn’t stop him from hanging outside your window until you climbed onto your fire escape just to get him to stop throwing pebbles at the dusty glass. You might have spent more than an hour outside that night, and the next one, and the next, but it was only so he’d let the others rest. You falling asleep on his shoulder at least once, then waking to find his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, was pure coincidence.

Race was always carefree. It was his job, you think, his role to play amongst the Manhattan newsies, just as yours was to keep track of your Brooklyn kids. Race used to tease you relentlessly about how the Brooklyn newspaper distribution system would completely grind to a standstill if you so much as got a cold.

It wasn’t entirely a joke, it was true. Race knew it. The two of you could hardly talk for longer than ten minutes before a boy or twelve would come up to you, asking for help on something else. He saw how long you faked your smiles just for the happy expression to start fading into an exhausted sigh whenever no one was around but him. You liked your position in the newsie ranks, truly you did, but it drained everything from you.

Sometimes it felt like it was just you and Spot fighting a losing war trying to keep all of your boys out of trouble. You teach them to be tough and loud and unapproachable, but it will never be enough? How could it be, in this city? Race tells his jokes and you laugh and you try not to pretend that everything is falling to ribbons. At least then you could marvel at the colors.

Still. Race stayed. Longer than you expected, in all honesty. You kept waiting for him to have his fun and leave you to your city that never sleeps, but he came around and it felt more natural by the day. Instead of being surprised that he showed up, you started feeling confused if a week went by without you seeing him.

And, when two newsies come to Brooklyn from Manhattan talking about a strike, and neither one of them is Race but both of them need your help anyway, you listen. More than Spot, at least. Spot gets wind of trouble and he shuts down their plea in an instant. Despite the fact that you think this is the best chance any of you will have to change something around here, Spot can’t risk his guys.

You never know when someone will back out without telling you, he tells you later, and then all of you would be stuck out there on the front lines without backup. The ace without the sleeve up which to hide. Brooklyn kids are tough, and they wouldn’t run, but who knows a damn thing about anyone else?

It made you want to scream and cry and run out there anyway, just to prove a point. You heard how the strike went later, how no one showed up except the Manhattan boys because no other borough would come without Brooklyn’s express approval. You catch whispers and threads of the story, but you don’t learn the whole thing until Race shows up.

He’s alone this time, beaten and bruised. You flinch when you see him, even though he’s not swinging. The look in his eyes, though– that’s enough to leave you bloody.

Race puts a hand on your shoulder. The knuckles are bruised, and you try not to notice the spatterings of skin already turning a mottled purple and green. “It’s not your fault. Jackie boy told me you tried to convince Spot to join us.”

You frown, look away. “You got hurt and we could have done something. That sounds an awful lot like I failed.”

Race shakes his head, puts a hand on your cheek so you have to look at him again. “I’m not here for that. This isn’t your fault, it’s his. Pulitzer’s. Him and those damn thugs. Not you.”

You nod slowly. It’ll take some time before you’re able to absolve yourself of the guilt, but you can try. “Let me get my first aid kit, I’ll come back with you, try to patch some of the kids up. Can I assume that a lot of them are worse than you?”

Race’s expression drops. “Yeah. The thugs came hitting pretty hard.”

“Well,” you say in an attempt to cheer him up, “I’d wager it’s because they knew your lot were the toughest around.”

Race cracks a smile, even though you’re sure it must be painful. “Oh, absolutely. I’d topple a building with a single punch.”

You can’t help but cast another worried look towards his hands. Damaged, bruised, and they had tipped his cap towards you just a morning or two ago. Race always liked to playact a gentleman when you were around. As if any of you have money or morals to spare. The only mansion you’ve got is the wide sky above you, the expensive habits of running too fast on green grass. Your gold is a rusty coin or two, your finery hand-me-down clothes. Your mockery of manners is the closest you’ll get to that sort of lifestyle, but it was always fun to fake it, anyway.

“No more punches,” you tell him. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Race retorts, “we’ve got to be out there again tomorrow for the strike. We’se not giving up so easily.”

The thought makes your stomach twist. Race, back out there, ready to get dealt another blow. Maybe this time he won’t be able to pick himself up so easily. Maybe this time he won’t be able to pick himself up at all.

No. You won’t let it happen. This is still your city, damn it, and you have not spent all these years sweating out your sunrises and sunsets to keep it informed just for the last bits of your control to be ripped out from between your desperate fingers.

“You won’t be alone tomorrow,” you decide, “I’ll get Spot to join you.”

Race frowns. “Jack and Davey tried that already, I thought. He said no. Isn’t Spot a dead end at this point? Unless there’s something else you know to change his mind.”

You sigh. “You’re not wrong. I talked to him, though, after your boys left yesterday. I tried. As much as anyone can try to talk to Spot, y’know. I’ll try again, though. The choice he made was–” There are a lot of words you could attribute to Spot’s decision to stay out of the strike. Stupid. Pointless. Backstabbing. You end up saying something a little more polite. “Not what I agreed with, to say the least.”

Race’s lips quirk up in a half smile. “Glad to hear it. I always liked it best when you were on our side.”

You snort. “I’se a Brooklyn newsie, remember? I don’t think we was ever on the same side.”

Race shrugs. “Maybe not in a turf war, but other times we got along just fine.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Race grins, leans a little closer to you. It feels like your whole world is tunneling– you can look at his eyes or his lips, but not both, and it’s enough to make you dizzy. “The last month or two, I swear you almost liked me. Sure, you’re a tough girl if anyone asks, but I know what I know.”

“And what do you know?” You ask carefully. It takes every fiber of focus in your being to keep breathing, chasing every word he says like a high price headline.

Race tilts his head to the side, considering this. Considering you. “I know that you’ve been hanging around me more and more. I know that you aren’t trying to run anymore. I know that no Brooklyn newsie sticks their neck out for someone from ‘Hattan unless they’ve got a pretty good reason. Most importantly, I know that I want to kiss you, but only if you want that too. Do you?”

He’s so close to you now, practically a breath away. Just enough room for you to run if you wanted to, but also for you to do something else, something you’ve been thinking about even when you swore you wouldn’t.

“I do,” you breathe, and that’s all Race needs to lean forward and kiss you at last. He tastes like blood and foolish hope and promises you know he’ll always keep. It’s a damn good mix, enough to make you kiss him again when he starts to break away.

This is how you keep him safe, then. You love him too much and you convince Spot to lend Brooklyn’s support by hook or by crook. You defend the strike and you defend your boy. There are a hundred reasons this could all go wrong, but thousands, thousands more, that all shout for you to keep going. 

Well, you’ve always liked a little bit of danger. Race is good trouble, and you are well inclined to keep him.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @mayfieldss, @amortensie

#race higgins #race higgins imagines #race higgins x reader #race higgins oneshot #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies x reader #newsies oneshot #newsies race #newsies race imagines #newsies race x reader #newsies race oneshot #newsies live #newsies live imagines #newsies live x reader #newsies live oneshot

[walkman-cat]

i had to :}

(i love these panels)

#yes this is a kirk and spock quote #it fits!! #im imagining this as happening as like the end of an episode. maybe after diplomatic relations maybe after jacks saved the ship #featuring a live kath reaction! #shes half betazoid she’s sensing their emotions and this is getting real old real fast (jack and davey have had interactions like this #on the bridge before. everyone’s sick of them. there are multiple betting pools.) #newsies #david jacobs #jack kelly #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #javid #davey doodles #newsies star trek au

[we-are-inevitable]

in case the first one's too weird, perhaps the phrase 'bruised heart', because ive been listening to pink ladies again and have a problem - @pigeonwit

"I guarantee you, you don't want me. You don't."

The words hit Jack like a truck.

When he told himself he was going to finally confess to David today, when he ran through all of the options and avenues for the conversation while on the thirty minute subway ride, he never once considered this option. The option where David thought he wouldn't be good enough, the one where he would say-- that.

Jack's mouth opens and closes for a few moments, the words lodged in his throat, before he chokes out, "What?"

To his credit, David laughs. It's not a happy sound, though- no, it's defeated, and trails off into a sigh at the tail-end of it. As he drops his shoulders, David's gaze flick's to Jack's across the table, before dropping back down to his clasped hands next to his cup of coffee. "You don't want me," David says easily, like it's a fact. Like it doesn't rip Jack in two.

"No, I heard you," Jack says, leaning a little further in, but he makes sure to keep his voice down- he doesn't need the rest of the cafe hearing this. Why he decided to do this in public, he doesn't know anymore, but he felt like he was going to burst out of his skin if he didn't blurt it out. "I just- I don't... get it. What do you mean, I don't want you? I think I know what I want, Dave."

David sighs, shaking his head and giving Jack a desperate, pleading look. "I'm telling you, you don't want-"

"And I'm tellin' you, you don't know what I want or not," Jack cuts in. "And I want you. I want you, and everything you're willin' to give, do you understand?" He stares at David, who is silent, and refuses to meet Jack's eyes.

Jack takes a deep breath and reaches out, gently taking David's hand. David doesn't pull away, but he doesn't grab back. "Look, I... I don't care if you don't want this. That's fine, and we can forget I ever opened my big mouth, okay? But if you- if you're refusin' to give this a shot 'cause you don't think you're good enough... Dave, you can't possibly believe that."

David gulps, his gaze shifting frantically, and he looks like a deer in the headlights. The image makes Jack regret ever saying anything, but when Jack starts to pull his hand away, David stops him with a squeeze. "Do you-" He stops, clearing his throat and staring straight at the wooden table between them. "Do you know how hard it is for... for me to get out of bed every day?"

Jack stays silent. David takes a breath, and closes his eyes.

"It's- It's not that I don't want you, Jackie, 'cause I want you more than you'll ever know," He whispers. "But you... You deserve more than me, okay? You deserve someone who doesn't feel drained every day. Someone who can be... I don't know, happy, without having to try to be. I'm a mess, Jack. You don't want that."

"I don't want that for you," Jack murmurs, squeezing David's hand back. "David, we... we can wait 'til you feel better, or healed, or whatever the fuck it is, but regardless, I don't... I don't need you to change for me to love you, okay? You deserve that, just as you are."

David finally looks up, and gulps hard. "...Love?"

"Yeah. Love," Jack responds.

David's shoulders sink a little, and he nods slowly, his grip on Jack's hand tightening. "I'm broken," David mumbles. "And I-- I know that sounds dramatic, but I've never... I've never been good at this, and you know that. You've been there for all of my breakups."

"Yeah, I have," Jack nods, "and I know that you didn't deserve a damn one of 'em. David, you're a catch, and if people don't get that... That's their problem. Not yours." With a soft sigh, Jack looks down, then shifts in his seat and looks back up at David. "You don't have to make a decision now. We can talk this out when you want, 'kay? The ball's in your court, Dave, but... You ain't broken. I swear."

"Jack..."

"There's a difference between broken and bruised," Jack murmurs. "Okay? You... You might be goin' through a rough patch. You might be hurtin', and that fuckin' sucks, but that don't mean you're beyond repair. You said the same damn thing about me."

David gulps hard, then uses his free hand to rub his eyes. "I... I don't know if I'm ready for-... I'm sorry..."

Jack shakes his head. "You got nothin' to apologize for, okay? If you need to wait, we wait."

"I want to," David explains. "I-... I really, really want to try with you, I just..."

"It's okay," Jack whispers. "I promise."

"Promise," David whispers back.

They finish lunch. They go to the park, then to a bar. They table it for a month and a half before David takes the plunge and kisses Jack. A bruised heart just takes a little time, and Jack Kelly would wait an eternity and a half for David Jacobs.

#i am imagining this is a college au or smth. jack and davey being besties in high school. years and years of pining #and watching each other fall in and out of bad relationships #until they give it a shot. and they fit. and things aren't perfect and they're both a little bruised but they're healing together #and that's what matters isn't it?? #thank u pidge i am smooching u on the head for this. i love sad davey #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #javid #javey #uksies #livesies #newsies live #west endsies #pidge tag

[shsl-fander]

Strikes aint fun but they sure is tiring!

#jacks hat fell off #sleepy newsboys are real #I imagine this happened multiple times #since they were always together #javey #javey newsies #javid #javid newsies #newsies #newsies live #livesies #newsies art #fanart #fansies #newsies fanart #davey jacobs #jack kelly

[newsiesimagines]

Newsies Imagines #40

#too much stuff in this fandom and not enough of it is ME #newsies #newsies imagines #dr doofenshmirtz #newsies live #newsies uk #actually I just get stressed out when in a big fandom #it's why I stay anonymous this fandom fluctuates too much and I cant count on it being tiny #the only fandom i post about on my main is like 5 people and a coconut so we're good there

[crutchie-with-a-y]

A couple days late, BUT HAPPY 123RD ANNIVERSARY OF THE NEWSBOYS’ STRIKE OF 1899!!!

#newsies #newsies fandom #newsies fanfic #newsies fanfiction #newsies imagine #broadway #jack kelly #musicals #racetrack higgins #broadway musicals #newsies live #1992sies #race newsies #newsboy strike of 1899 #newsboy strike

[kellyscowboy]

꒰✧ᯇ✦꒱ REFLECTION OF DECEPTION

ᯇ summary ! ✦ jack kelly's mirror lies to him, and david jacobs would rather take a lifetime of bad luck than let the mirrors continue with their deceitful schemes ᯇ warnings ! ✦ lowkey just angsty, uhh i mean not too angsty ig but i think you get the idea, a single cuss word lol ᯇ vienna's thoughts ! ✦ sorry this is lowkey so short! i thought it was gonna be a lot longer but it didn't turn out that way. reblogs & notes are greatly appreciated♡. also its 1 am & this was only edited once so if it doesn't make sense just pretend it isnt here. also!! this is very different from what i usually write so bear with me 823 WORDS © 2023 , 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

Jack Kelly was a sculpture, a gift sent from the gods. He was just as much a piece of art as he was an artist. From his calloused hands used in only the softest of ways, to the way his eyes spoke every truth of his soul. There had never been such a human to walk the earth, David Jacobs was sure of that.

David could talk about the abstract creation that was Jack Kelly until his heart stopped. About how Jack Kelly was the design of Aphrodite and Apollo, and how he would worship him as the people of Greece had worshiped his creators.

For Aphrodite blessed him love, with beauty. She pressed the dimples into his cheeks and painted the freckles on his face—the ones that only appeared when the sun shone. His laugh, that could send anyone within a twelve-mile radius into an early grave, was all her doing. Aphrodite had spent days, if not weeks (hell, Dave could argue it took years) perfecting him.

Apollo had blessed him with the sun. For his smile, the toothy smile that was so wide it could make someones jaw hurt just from seeing it, radiated more warmth than a hot New York day. And Apollo blessed him with light, for his eyes shone brighter than the brightest star. His artistic gifts had also been hand-curated by Apollo, an ability unique to Jack. Because there was nothing that anyone else could create that could compete with his works.

Jack Kelly put every bit of his being into his art. Every single stroke of paint held a little bit of his soul. His rough hands would glide over dried paint, and everything he possessed would leak into his canvases. Every line his calloused fingers traced stole its first breath from his fingertips.

He knew of beauty. He knew that beauty was everything. Beauty was a young mother holding her terrified sons' hand and pretending she wasn't just as scared as him. Beauty took form in the way of brotherhood, and beauty was ten thousand fists—ones of different background and beliefs—angrily thrown into the air.

Each and everything that blessed Jack's eyes was art. There, however, was one exception. And it was quite possibly the best piece of art in existence. Himself.

Apate, mistress of deceit, had stolen the creation of Jack Kelly just before he had been sent to bless the Earth. Though she could not undo the work of another deity, she could curse him to a life of falsity. She could change his story from one of art and blessing to one of tragedy. And she did. She took a film of insecurity and deception, and gently pressed it atop his eyes. Then, as an extra fuck you, she manipulated mirrors to whisper heinous lies to him for the rest of his life.

And the story of his creation turned from a story to a tragedy. For Jack had been blessed with the beauty, skills, and warmth of the gods; but he would never be able to admire the piece of art that changed David Jacobs' life. Himself.

While Jack Kelly had changed his life, David Jacobs had changed the other boys' fate.

"Davey," Apate—in an attempt to keep Jack Kelly's story one of tragedy—whispered to him from the clouds, "Be wary, for mirrors shall be your downfall. And with every mirror that you break, you shall be punished with seven years of badgering luck."

But Aphrodite's voice spoke to him loudly and with confidence. "It is untrue that mirrors shall be your downfall, for your story is one of great love. You will love greater than I have loved, and it will be your downfall. But for every love you love, and for every reflection shattered, you shall fix the broken. Do not be wary, for your fate is written in the stars."

And so it was told.

Jack Kelly had been stolen by the goddess of deceit and was misled by his reflection. And while David Jacobs had been the product of Athena and Momus, their tales had been curated by Zeus. Zeus, god of fate, wrote their story into the stars so that David Jacobs may save Jack Kelly from the fate that was himself.

They had been destined to save each other since the stars had been formed. While Jack Kelly drowned in the deception of his reflection, David pulled him out and broke every mirror that dared whisper into his lovers' ear.

Jack Kelly had been made to be a tragedy, an artist who would never be able find the art within himself. But David Jacobs had been made to save him. For David Jacobs' love was his downfall, and his lifetime of bad luck meant nothing when he got to feel Jack Kelly's lips against his own.

And so true was it, that the story in the stars had been their fate.

#i cried while writing this LMAOO #but also i'm emotional and its getting to that point of the month where i cry over everything so #may not be THAT sad but #uhm i've literally never written anything like this so please be nice #bc i will cry #jack kelly #francis sullivan #david jacobs #javey #javey newsies #newsies #newsies 1992 #92sies #1992sies #livesies #newsies live #newsies broadway #honestly you can imagine any jack kelly & davey you want #i love imagining christian bale's jack as an artist too #pretend its not 1 am #javid #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ newsies // oneshots ❥ #☄. *. ⋆ vienna's ... writing

[frogmanfae]

I'm doing some research for the newsies fic and exchange and omfg y'all should really look into the history of the Refuge (the New York House of Refuge irl) this shits wildddd

#newsies #newsies uk #uksies #livesies #newsies live #92sies #newsies 1992 #newsies book #newsies fic #newsiesficandexchange #this is not how i imagined the Refuge #its not as bad but its somehow worse? #history

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Carrying the Banner Masterlist

Albert DaSilva x Gemma Hayes | Davey Jacobs x Lucy Larkin | Oscar Delancey x Hilda Beckett | Spot Conlon x Quinn

✨Completed✨

Starting note

Chapter 1- Strike (Albert x Gemma)

Chapter 2- Songbird (Oscar x Hilda)

Chapter 3- The Attack (Albert x Gemma)

Chapter 4- Safety (Davey x Lucy)

Chapter 5- Caged Songbird (Oscar x Hilda)

Chapter 6- I Never Planned On You (Spot x Quinn)

Chapter 7- The Rally (Albert x Gemma)

Chapter 8- Night at the Theater (Davey x Lucy)

Chapter 9- Thunderstorms (Oscar x Hilda)

Chapter 10- Jailbreak (Spot x Quinn)

Chapter 11- A Moment Alone (Albert x Gemma)

Chapter 12- Once and for All (Davey x Lucy)

Chapter 13- Morning in Staten (Spot x Quinn)

Chapter 14- Hearts in Sync (Oscar x Hilda)

Chapter 15- New Memories (Albert x Gemma)

Chapter 16- Birthday Surprise (Davey x Lucy)

Chapter 17- Good Changes (Spot x Quinn)

Chapter 18- Dancing in the Rain (Oscar x Hilda)

#newsies #newsies live #newsies imagine #newsies live imagine #albert dasilva #albert dasilva imagine #albert dasilva x oc #davey jacobs imagine #davey jacobs x oc #oscar delancey #oscar delancey imagine #oscar delancey x oc #spot conlon #spot conlon imagine #spot conlon x oc

[heliads]

'from you i'd buy anything ' - jack kelly x crutchie morris

Jack Kelly is thinking about leaving. Crutchie is thinking about staying. Neither of them like that very much.

a/n: who was expecting me to briefly come back from exam hiatus with a jackcrutchie drabble? not me for sure

masterlist

Imagine, for a moment, that there is a boy on a fire escape, and he is listening to his best friend talk about leaving, and that boy is you. And your best friend is your best friend. And he matters more than anything.

Imagine that you have lived your entire recorded life in one city in one country in one world selling newspapers. Your birth was announced in a newspaper, probably, a newspaper that was sold by a newsboy quite like you in many ways but vastly different in the ones that matter, and when you die, your obituary will be placed in a newspaper sold by a different newsboy who is, again, both similar and dissimilar to you, a newsboy whose birth announcement you sold in a newspaper. You will sell the paper announcing the death of the boy who sold the news of your birth, and you will sell the paper announcing the birth of the boy who will sell your death. And so the chain goes on. You will sell many papers of many boys, and you will not even know it, or maybe you will. It does not matter if you read the newspaper. It only matters that you sell it.

Imagine that you have been selling newspapers with your best friend. He is your best friend because you sell newspapers with him, or perhaps in spite of it. You love him completely; you adore him like a devotee gazing upon a god. If you were one of the well-suited men writing up the articles that get to be in print, you would put your best friend in the newspaper. Not because he was born or died, but because he lived, and he lived extraordinarily.

Imagine that your best friend is telling you how much he cannot wait to leave this place, the only place that both of you have ever known. He could do it, you know. Leave. He would be good at it like he is good at every other thing except staying. Although you are his best friend, there is nothing you could say to make him stick around, so instead of saying anything, you listen. You do not like what you are hearing, although you pretend otherwise.

Imagine that your best friend could have left town a thousand times before now, but he waited for this early morning, this stolen breath before dawn, so that he could tell you he was going and judge your face to see how you would take the news. Imagine that he has already spent hours and days and weeks coming up with every possible argument you could make to keep him in New York City, Gotham, the City That Never Sleeps, so that you would think him clever, and laugh, maybe, and want him here. Imagine that he does not know that you already think him clever. Imagine that he thinks he has to prove it somehow, as if years of friendship and ill-concealed longing were not enough to cement that belief in your mind already. It is printed on your brain with permanent ink. Like in a newspaper.

Imagine that you are on the fire escape and listening to your best friend talk, and imagining what will happen one day when you wake up and are alone. You have been lonely before, but this would be worse. He would be fine at it, you think, your best friend. He is good at making friends. Even best friends. You think about them now, someone taking your place in sunny Santa Fe, where the city is not gray and lifeless, where the children do not starve in the streets. It does not matter if your replacement is a girl or boy, if Jack Kelly loves them as much as he loves you, they are not you and therefore they are an enemy.

Imagine that your best friend does not want to swap you out for anybody. You are the crucial part in his plans, the piece that completes the puzzle, but he does not know how to say it and you do not know how to say it, either, so it goes unsaid completely. The bell rings and the two of you hurry to the place where they give you the newspapers that you will sell together, and neither of you get rid of the words hanging leaden on the tips of your tongues. Tomorrow, he will repeat this conversation, and it will go the same way. Imagine that you might know what to do tomorrow. You won’t, but there is no loss in trying. Imagine that it might work out in the end. Imagining is easier. It always is.

newsies tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @misguidedswagger, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#newsies #newsies imagines #newsies oneshot #newsies drabble #newsies live #newsies live imagines #newsies live oneshot #newsies live drabble #newsies fanfic #newsies live fanfic #newsies 1992 #newsies 1992 imagines #newsies 1992 oneshot #newsies 1992 fanfic #jack kelly #jack kelly imagines #jack kelly oneshot #crutchie #crutchie imagines #crutchie oneshot #crutchie fanfic #crutchie morries #crutchie morris imagines #crutchie morris oneshot #crutchie morris fanfic #jack x crutchie #jack x crutchie imagines #jack x crutchie oneshot #jack x crutchie fanfic #jack kelly x crutchie morris

[newmsies]

if they were being accurate Mr. Pulitzers football probably could have been our soccer since Hungary is in Europe and that's where he was from and Europe calls soccer football but they casted all the Newsies as cis men so ig I'll let it go /j

#I'm JOKINGGG by the wayyyy #just saying though #make our soccer Mr. Pulitzers football 2023 /j #also calling it football makes sense but i live in America so I'm used to calling it spccer #*soccer #also he's from Budapest but bro's so old he moved there when it was just Pest #like literally it was still Pest when his family moved there from Mako #also the house he was born in is a fucking #post office? I think #I'm not 100% sure but imagine being a ghost and being like #oh i wanna go see my old home #and then people are just sending packages in it #newmsies #newsies #joseph pulitzer

[nuwuna]

Dance HCs for the Redacted bois :)

David: Ballet

My man likes rules and ballet has those rules. He was the best at partner work and lifted those girlies into the air with no problem. The pack teases him abt it sometimes but angel loves it. They constantly ask him to teach them variations.

Asher: Classic Jazz/Hip-hop

I think he was enrolled in jazz classes as a kid and really enjoyed it. Later on, he thought hip-hop was really cool so he watched a bunch of videos on it. yes, self-taught hip-hopper ash. he's an absolute beast at clubs and definitely dances to the songs playing at grocery stores.

Milo: BALLROOM PLEASE HE'S LITERALLY PERFECT FOR THIS ARE YOU KIDDING? He loved every aspect of it: the style, the costumes, the competition, EVERYTHING. He was really good at it too, he won like 90% of the competitions we was in. He definitely had a massive rivalry with another person and was petty abt it.

Vincent: Contemporary Ballet

not necessarily ballet but it has a certain artistic element that he enjoys. He took a few classes as a kid and then enrolled in some classes at his college. I just think that he would be really good at it and it's not super traditional.

Sam: Country Western

my guy is from the south what did you expect? anyways he went to a lot of shindigs as a kid and then went to country clubs in college. He's goated at partnering too. he spins his partners around and lifts them into the air with ease. Even tho darlin is made of steel he can still pull crazy stunts.

William: Ballet

He's literally from France and was the reason why Tchaikovsky wrote the Nutcracker. He KNOWS his stuff.

Gavin: Jazz 

Okay a bit different, but I think that he enjoys the more mature jazz/theatre. Like cabaret, chicago, and moulin rouge. he LIVES for that shit. fosse is his idol bro. he occasionally surprises freelancer with a little number lol

Damien: Ballet

my man went far with this like he was GOOD. He was definitely enrolled in a professional company before he went to damn. He was super particular about every move and argued with people during variations. He even got annoyed at the girls he was paired with because they weren't certain moves correctly. The other dancers didn't like him very much, but those russian ballet teachers did, and that's why he got so many good roles in the shows he was in.

Lasko: Musical theatre

okay, hear me out here. he's a show tunes guy. he loves newsies, grease, and hamilton and was for sure a theatre kid before his powers manifested. Like can you imagine how cute that is? he's a little bit embarrassed about it but when freelancer asks him about it he pulls out the old CDs. pls so cute

Huxley: Rhythmic tap

no not theatre tap like he goes hard with the rhythms. you really wouldn't expect it but you can sometimes catch him tapping when he's sitting or waiting in line. he's an absolute beast at it.

Caelum: Lyrical

he loves all of Maddie Ziegler's solos. the likes how much emotion is put into every move and gets very invested in the stories he tells through the movement. he also really likes all the pretty costumes.

anyways this is all just my opinion and I miss dancing a little bit. :P

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted headcanons #redacted david #redacted asher #redacted milo #redacted vincent #redacted sam #redacted william #redacted gavin #redacted damien #redacted huxley #redacted lasko #redacted caelum #redacted shaw pack #redacted solaire clan #redacted damn #i made this during a road trip lol #should i make more of these? #it was pretty fun

[we-are-inevitable]

Javid 32!

32 - “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

——

ok this was a little longer than i anticipated!! and also @thefactsofthematter sent this exact prompt in as well lol, so: here ya go!

this will definitely be posted to ao3 also

——

As soon as he opens the front door to his apartment, Jack is hit by the distant smell of weed.

Nothing out of the ordinary. About twice a week, Jack will come home to the smell. It doesn’t bother him— he’ll, he used to live with Race and Albert, and they smoked like they needed it to breathe— but the apartment looks empty right now. Usually he’ll come home to David smoking in the living room, but the living room looks untouched.

He pauses after locking the door. Looking around, he doesn’t see anything weird; the living room is clean, there aren’t any dishes in the kitchen sink, the lights are all off except for the lamp in the corner, but Jack sees evidence of David on the dining room table. A iPad, left open, and a textbook next to it. An apple pencil lying next to it.

He moves closer to the table, dropping his jacket off on one of the chairs, and just as he does so, he hears a soft cough from outside the window. Looking up, he doesn’t see anyone, but he notices the smoke fliltering past.

“David?” Jack calls out, walking to the open window.

Just as he reaches it, David’s voice says, “Out here.”

Jack nods to himself, pulling himself through the window. He looks to his left, and David is there, on the fire escape with a joint between his fingers. He’s wearing a black tank top and gray sweatpants, so he probably went to the gym earlier, and if Jack concentrated hard enough on ignoring the smell of the joint, he’d be able to pick up on David’s shampoo from his still-damp hair.

“Hey, man,” Jack murmurs, nudging David’s knee with his foot as he leans against the window frame. “Rough day?”

David shrugs, not looking Jack in the eye. “Yeah, you could say that,” He says after a moment, holding his hand out. “You want a hit?”

Jack considers, but after a moment, he shakes his head. “Not tonight,” He responds. He climbs down off of the window, sitting crosslegged in front of David. “You okay? You look like hell.”

Despite his freshly showered (and extremely attractive, but Jack would never say that out loud) appearance, David has dark circles under his eyes, and he looks exhausted. It’s been a busy week for him, Jack knows. He’s barely seen David since last Thursday, and it’s nearly the weekend again.

“I feel like it,” David says with a nod of his head. “But I’ll be fine. No worries.”

He meets Jack’s gaze then, and Jack feels it again- that familiar tug in his chest, the rush of heat rising on his cheeks, and with David looking like this, Jack doesn’t know what to do. It’s a bad idea, he tells himself. David is just his roommate. Some random gorgeous genius he found on Craigslist when his last roommate left without telling him. Being attracted to David Jacobs is bad news.

But he wishes it wasn’t.

“You can talk to me, ya know,” Jack says with a soft frown. “You’ve been actin’ weird lately. You sure there’s nothing’ goin’ on?”

David takes another hit, leaning his head back against the brownstone behind him, and Jack watches his shoulders drop as he exhales the smoke. “You’re not gonna drop it, are you?”

“Nah,” Jack answers immediately. “You know me better than that, Jacobs.”

A hint of a smile on David’s face, but it vanishes as soon as David opens his eyes again. “You really wanna know?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” he stares with a shrug, as easily as breathing, “and I’m terrified.”

And all of the thoughts running around in Jack’s mind suddenly come to a stuttering stop.

His chest tightens, and for a moment, all he can do is stare at the wall just above David’s head. He thinks back to the past few weeks— David grabbing his waist while they were cooking last Friday and how he couldn’t look Jack in the eye after that, David being in a sour mood whenever Jack would come home from a date and-slash-or walk of shame, David staring at Jack constantly and denying it all— and it makes sense.

It makes sense.

“Oh,” Jack says finally, mouth opening and closing a few times like he’s trying to form the words. “You— Okay, wait, you—“

“Don’t do that,” David says with a roll of his eyes, shifting, bringing his knees to his chest. “Don’t act like you’re surprised, Jack.”

Jack furrows his brows. “The hell do you mean, don’t act surprised? I am surprised, Davey, you don’t just— you don’t just drop that on a fella.”

“You wanted to know, so I told you,” he mutters. “Look, just— just forget about it.”

“What? No,” Jack starts. “I can’t just— forget about it, David, I— I… I have feelings for you too, I’m not going to just ignore this,” he says with a nervous laugh, but David doesn’t seem to be amused.

David doesn’t seem to be happy about it, either.

His hands, usually so steady and calm, are shaking like a leaf. He won’t even look at Jack, instead studying the street below them, snuffing out what remains of the joint still in his fingers. His face is red.

Jack takes in a deep breath, and slowly crawls closer, placing a hand on David’s knee. “Hey, look at me,” he murmurs, waiting until David slowly turns, facing him. He doesn’t make direct eye contact, but Jack doesn’t force it. “You… You said you’re terrified? Of loving me? Why is it… terrifying?”

“Because,” David says immediately, jerking his shoulders. “Because you’re- you’re you, Jack. You’re terrifying enough as is, but you’re my roommate, and you— I don’t know, you know what you’re doing and I have no fucking idea how to navigate this, okay?”

“Woah, Davey, what?” Jack asks, tilting his head. “I don’t— okay, you need to just tell me what’s goin’ on, so I can understand. Okay? What do you mean?”

David takes in a frantic breath. Jack almost feels bad— according to David, he smokes to lower his anxiety, but right now Jack can see him working himself up. “I don’t know, Jack, I— I’ve never even had a crush on anyone. I wasn’t… I don’t know how— how this works, okay? I’ve never had a boyfriend, I’ve never been interested in romance, I… I thought it just wasn’t really for me, and then you… just kind of happened. And I don’t know how to feel about it,” David says finally, covering his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Fuck. Fuck, okay, just… I shouldn’t have told you.”

“But I’m glad you did,” Jack says instantly, and gently- gently- pulls David’s hands away from his eyes. For a moment, David refuses to open them, refuses to look at Jack, but then Jack carefully cups his cheek and runs the pad of his thumb over David’s cheekbone, and after a few deep breaths, David slowly looks up into Jack’s eyes. “Davey,” Jack murmurs, “it’s okay not to know. But if you… If you have feelings for me, and I have feelings for you, then this isn’t somethin’ we can just… pretend didn’t happen.”

“I know,” David says softly, sounding defeated. “Fuck. I know. It’s just…”

“…Scary?”

“Scary. Yeah.”

They sit in heavy silence for a few moments. Silence that feels suffocating, staring into each others eyes. Silence that feels like home in the best and worst ways.

Finally, David speaks. “You really feel the same?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Jack asks, then gently runs a hand through David’s hair. David pulls Jack forward until he’s tracking his lap, and as Jack relaxes into the touch, he smiles. “You’re everything, Dave.”

And there it is: that reluctant Davey smile, the one where he doesn’t show teeth but his eyes scrunch up and he tilts his head to the side. “What does this mean for us?”

Jack shrugs. “What do you want it to mean?” He asks, looking down into David’s eyes. “You’re the one callin’ the shots here, Dave.”

David takes this in for a moment. He nods, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down. Jack feels his hands spasm where they’re seated on his waist, and watches as David gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment.

“I think…” He gulps, and meets Jack’s eyes. “I think it means that I want you to kiss me. Right now.”

“You sure?”

“Please.”

Jack leans forward, rubbing David’s cheek. He can feel how fast David’s heart is beating, watching as his eyes flutter shut and his lips part ever so slightly.

And Jack kisses him, and David kisses back, desperate, floaty, following Jack’s lead, and nerves be damned, it feels right.

It feels right.

#YEAHHHH I LOVE THEM YEAH YEAHHHH #i’m imagining they’re both students in this #but they’re in junior/senior year living off campus together #jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #newsies #livesies #ask a jac ! #jac writes #newsies musical #newsies live #kath tag

[colemckenzies]

Groundhog Day Musical, West End 2023

after six years i finally saw my favourite musical of all time in person 🥰🥰 so here is my write up of the staging, lyric changes, general commentary etc.

it's worth noting that i imagine the staging is more similar to its original west end run than the broadway version, but i didn't see it back then and couldn't find any footage so I'll just be comparing to the broadway ver. it will also all be based off of the One west end performance i saw and One broadway performance that was filmed cus yk live theatre and all that. i'm also only one person so this def won't be comprehensive. if there's anything you particularly want to know that i haven't mentioned please ask!!

for major overarching changes, there was no turntable which significantly affected the staging, especially for songs like night will come. it's also a much smaller space and much more condensed cast than on broadway.

anyway without further ado lets go woodchuck chuckers 😎 in chronological order

the opening video is completely changed. rather than showing phil interacting w his producer, it just shows his forecast segment in full. he explains more about what groundhog day is as a holiday and that this is his fourth year attending. also includes the line 'we can't all have good weather because we're not all good people'. banner along the bottom read 'up next music: white wine in the snow' as a little tim minchin ref :)

only one person sang the 'i was born on a punxutawney dawn' opening section of there will be sun, pretty sure it was buster. lot of solos for the rest of the song as well but not specific townspeople i think

everyone came out of the mist as in broadway version, but everyone was dressed in the top hat costume. they stood a line across the stage and took a group selfie w a selfie stick

phil turns off the radio after 'that's right woodchuck chuckers, it's groundhog day' so there's none of the subsequent lyrics/banter. i'm also 90% sure the radio recording was from the soundtrack

FIRST LYRIC CHANGE. there's an extra line in day one that goes 'their dumb superstitions and vacuous chat, their total unawareness of the fact their trapped, perhaps you don't miss it if you don't know you lack it, I'm sure there was a pack of xanax in this jacket' (EDIT - thank you for the correction @jackhkeynes )

^not a huge fan of this change tbh but only bc the original rhythm is one of my favourite parts of the song.

there's no hallway in the b&b, the kitchen set is the back end of the bedroom set. this means jonathan is downstairs the kitchen rather than meeting phil in the hallway, so the scene ends up as him, phil, and mrs lancaster. the tourist couple do not come in (or exist), mrs lancaster says the popsicle line.

there's a couple of extra new jokes in the dialogue. lmk if you want to know specifics lol

since mrs lancaster comes straight into this scene they skip the 'think i'll lose it all together' little bit of music

all the dancers are part of the marching band and they all join for the selfie with phil

phil getting hit in the head by the groundhog guy is because the hot dog guy (here played by one of the newsies i saw LOL) yells 'GO PHIL!!!' every time so the groundhog turns around to wave

buster uses an alt melody for his announcement - 'prognostication' goes down rather than up for the last note

they get punxsy phil out on the 'this brown log' line, so they skip the 'the finest specimen you will find' section

nancy sings the 'kinda both but not quite either' line over buster, which i actually really like because she does it in this really peppy cheerleader :DDD way that adds to her being a Prop. she even has pompoms.

wilbur in this version is sooooo good he's a lot more physical and really leans into his megaphone

when phil comes back from the blizzard rita seems a lot more genuinely concerned about him than just laughing

she accidentally orders her drink with a 'tryst' before 'kiss' and finally 'twist'

NEW LYRICS in day two - since there's no radio chatter in this version, after 'how many days is this holiday?' phil sings '[something] clearly failed to mention the owner showing signs of early onset dementia, one groundhog day is surely more than enough, even hicks must get sick of this stuff'

rest of the song continues as normal, again rita seems more concerned about phil, shouts 'maybe i can help!' when he leaves the diner

she then sings her diary section quite differently, like alt melody AND alt rhythm, she seems flustered

actually she also has a lot more variation between days than a lot of the townspeople, like she's more responsive to phil acting differently

LYRIC CHANGE in stuck - 'rhino foreskin' is now 'monkey foreskin'. lyric changes that push me dangerously close to googling 'do rhinos have foreskin' (EDIT - tim apparently said this was because white rhinos went extinct so it made him sad - thank u anon!)

the enema takes place behind a screen, a bit like the silhouette technique used for the shower in hope

at the end of stuck when everyone lists their thing again (karma/toxins/etc), phil says no!! after each one until alcohol and then he goes 'oh thank god'

nothing hugely notable to say for nobody cares, just that it skipped over some of the dialogue at the beginning just to make the scene tighter. i will say that ralph and gus are Exceptional in this version

the staging is mostly the same, except jack and wilbur get their own little cars to follow the truck in :)

in philandering, phil tells nancy he's a war correspondant rather than working for the nyt

again the dialogue throughout the song is a lot more streamlined

the little pillow fight section is replaced by a party in phil's room where you just see everyone going in and out of the door that's set up like when he slept w nancy. he gets his big fur coat from a coke dealer.

in one day, rita doesn't comment on phil's choice of drink, so there's nothing about 'frou frou lady drinks', she just orders right after him and the day restarts

not a new thing but. i forgot about the soixante neuf line and it made me choke

rita and phil sit on a bench to the side of the stage after the snowball fight, not on the floor

joelle's voice is extremely pretty in this ver:) I think the harmony may be slightly different?

LYRIC CHANGE. in arguably the most bizarre lyric change, jonathan is no longer addicted to fried chicken takeaway, but rather camembert. which you may notice does not rhyme with 'day'. the full line is: 'one day, i swear, i'll kick my addiction to camembert. my doctor said one day my heart will stop beatin', if i don't ease off this cheese eatin'.' (EDIT - changed due to this track being played by a black actor, though the one i saw was white - thank you anon!)

the diner waitress doesn't exist in this cut down cast, so it's debbie who can't sing. fred is very supportive :)

something cool they do in lieu of the turntable is for Larry's repeated 'ok phil we're on in 5...' they have multiple larrys, similar to the body doubling in hope, who keep running up to phil and fading away

ACT TWO

the act opens slightly differently - since nancy is kind of part of the marching band in this ver (tho not in full uniform), it opens with a quick section of who is that! who is that? emerging from his burrow -. nancy sings her 'kinda both but not quite either' line, and then drops one of her pompoms on 'until we hear it from old punxsutawney -' and then as she goes to pick it up that music stops and playing nancy begins

LOVE that it cuts off just before 'phil' bc it has the same effect as even choosing to open w playing nancy anyway. she was an incredible nancy as well she's not got many credits yet but oh my god? this was so striking and moving irl and it's already one of my favourite choices of the show

there's a lot more use of Red Lighting when phil kills phil. rip.

staging for hope is almost exactly the same, but minus turntable, so it doesn't have the part where lots of Not Phils are dying simultaneously, just the three main deaths

the scene where phil exposits about everyone in the diner goes jeff -> debbie -> freddie. there's a great exchange that goes 'you're welcome jeff.' / 'do you two know each other?' / 'no???' / 'that's jeff.'

also phil doesn't insist debbie wants a diamond (since she ends up w a doorknob anyway), he just goes CLOSE THE DEAL FREDDIE!!!

since this version establishes this is phil's fourth year covering ghd and debbie and fred met on ghd four years ago, there's a pretty good reason why they're such big fans of him :)

not a difference but the 'i'll never have a birthday' line always hits so hard

if i had my time again is THE single most different song between versions. the musical arrangement is quite different to my ear, different harmonies, and there's alt melodies and rhythms as well as some extra lyrics

as i have already seen noted on tumblr, 'and one dude when i was bored' has been upgraded to SOME dudes. also rita goes 'sure..!' she's like ok u bi bitch. also they're still on the benches at this point but she's jumped onto his.

even when they are on the move there's none of the stuff w the townspeople hounding phil for photos/autographs, they're just hanging out

the section where phil 'shows Rita his hometown' has actually been moved to near the end of the show, so they just get on the tilt-a-whirl immediately. also they share a car rather than having separate ones.

the staging for this part was so beautiful it actually made me cry lol. w strings of lights coming down

LYRIC CHANGE - 'i daily eat a dozen donuts' is now 'i eat a dozen donuts every day'

FURTHERMORE, the second 'why' is actually directed at rita's 'i would learn piano', and she replies by singing 'why?? I'd just give everything a try' and then their 'these revolving rides' section is a completely different tune going into a brand new ending where she's lying on his bed and he has a balloon, with:

NEW LYRICS - rita: 'go to all the parties that i missed, kiss all the boys i was too afraid to kiss (why am i not surprised you have a list?), try to have more days that end like.. this :)'

the next couple of scenes play out as in the bway ver

the order of vignettes leading up to and in night will come are switched - phil brings jenson the thermos of soup on the second day and takes him to the hospital on the third day as the song begins, with the scene w the nurse taking place after the first verse

obviously the staging is quite different without the turntable, ned wanders about between verses and then stands still/sits to sing

ned has a lot more of an 'annoying' exaggerated nasally voice in this ver

in his post-song broadcast, phil pronounces 'phi' like 'fee' instead of 'fie'

in philanthropy, phil saves jonathan from choking rather than the tourist, which does end up feeling a bit random since he also gives mrs lancaster a new coffee pot in this song iirc so along with the sheriff and debbie it's established he's solving the problems from 'one day', and jonathan is clearly Not choking on camembert lmao

the singer at the party at the end is debbie!!!

during seeing you, when phil takes rita up to the observation deck, she calls it 'romantic' sarcastically after the toilets/garbage/etc, and then That's when he points out the duck pond, school etc, and she says it's like he's showing her his hometown

MORNING OF FEBRUARY 3RD EVEN MORE DEVASTATING FROM THIRD ROW OF STALLS.

ending is the broadway one, watching the sunrise :) except it's just phil and rita and no one else

so yeah IT FUCKED andy karl I would die for you. as i say lmk if you have any other questions and i will do my best :)

#groundhog day musical #ghd musical #groundhog day 2023 #groundhog day west end #andy karl #groundhog Day

[amethystunarmed]

Benjamin and the Paper

Word Count: 1040 AO3 Link Benjamin learns about the events surrounding the launch of the Brick Satellite, and regrets.

Benjamin finds out from the newspaper.

(That’s not entirely true. He finds out when a new, brilliant star appears in the sky, because he knows only two people with the will and the imagination to shift the heavens themselves. He looks at the new guiding light over head and thinks, My God, they did it.)

Benjamin finds out about their deaths from the newspaper. Because of course he does. He can think of no person the ink loves more than the Stratford twins. Of course it cradles their bodies close to its chest, gently brings them home to rest in New York City.

“Extra! Extra! Death in British Guiana, local heroes killed in military coup!”

Benjamin stops so suddenly, three different people run into him. “Sorry, excuse me,” he says, frantically looking around for the paper boy he’d heard yelling. He beelines towards him, shoving what is certainly too much money into the kid’s hand as he snatches the paper away from him. He frantically scours the paper, looking for the story the boy was yelling about.

Maybe it’s not them, Benjamin thinks, feeling slightly hysterical. It could be about anyone, you can’t throw a rock in New York City without hitting a local celebrity. Breathing has gotten harder, the world spins around him. But he can’t stop reading, he needs to know-

Herschel and Hanover, along with Margaret Cavendish and Samuel and Rose Stratford, are presumed deceased.

Benjamin’s knees give out, and he grips desperately to a lamp post to keep from falling.

Samuel and Rose Stratford, are presumed deceased.

Many times, people say they’ve forgotten the last words they’ve said to a departed loved one. They can only hope it was a casual display of love, or, at worst, a mundane conversation with no bearing on their lives or relationship.

Benjamin knows exactly what his last words to Sam and Rose were, despite how hard he tries to forget.

Enjoy the present before its past. 

Benjamin wishes he’d taken his own advice.

“Mister, are you okay?” The newsie asks, looking like he is afraid Benjamin is going to keel over next to him. Benjamin isn’t sure he answers. He opens his mouth, but he doesn’t think any sound comes out. Instead, he turns away and begins walking. 

In the three months since Benjamin ended both his career and his friendship with the Stratfords in an incredibly public spectacle, he has done a lot of thinking. For the first month, he stewed in a blinding, hazy anger, interspersed with far too much whiskey. By the second month, he realized how empty his life felt without the Stratfords in it, and hated himself for even considering it. Recently, he’s just missed them.

(He’d been trying to figure out if there was a way he could send them a letter. He had no idea where to send it, much less whether Sam and Rose would actually read it. He supposes it doesn’t matter now.)

When his feet stop, he realizes he has reached the Stratford Family Paper Stand. 

“You’ll always find a Stratford there!” Sam had once told him, like a reassurance. Like a North Star for Benjamin to follow if he ever lost them.

It is boarded up now, a sign over the door reading “Closed Until Further Notice.” Already, flowers line the walls, memorials for the heroes who told the world about life on the moon. He sees a paper with what could only be a child's drawing of a lunar buffalo. He remembers the way Rose and Sam had cackled when they told him about it, when they pulled this creature from thin air and made it real, preserved in ink before his very eyes. They created life with the dedication of gods and the whimsy of children.

The Paper Stand feels dead without them. There is nothing for him or anyone here. Not anymore. 

He keeps walking. 

It is dark when he finally gets to the office for the Sun.

He drifts forward toward the yellow light in the window. Because, surely, if looks in the window, he will see Sam, golden and brilliant in the lamp light, desperately scribbling in his notebook. He’ll see Rose, fingers blackened with ink from typesetting, the wrinkles in her furrowed brow like the lines of a constellation. He may have been an editor for the Sun, but the Stratfords were truly the ones Benjamin revolved around. As much as he likes to pretend the Lunar Hoax was a plot he got caught up in, he still remembers the thrill that ran through him as he put the first “Great Astronomical Discoveries” into type. He remembers being so excited for Rose and Sam’s reactions the next day. He remembers feeling positively giddy when they had beamed at him, once they saw he ran their story.

(When did that change? When did he decide their joy wasn’t enough?)

He feels adrift, a planet out of orbit. For as long as he can remember, his life has centered around the Stratfords, twin stars that tugged him into their gravity, be it as a friend, an enemy, or a man desperate to reconnect. What is his path, in a world without them?

He isn’t sure.

The door opens next to him, and Benjamin heart soars, because it’s them, it’s got to be them, it was just another hoax, they are back and really, shouldn’t Benjamin know better-

Chester Thomas stands, outlined in the doorframe. He looks worse than Benjamin has ever seen him, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, bottle of bourbon held loosely in his hand.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice curt and monotone. And Benjamin is going to leave, going to apologize and go about his business. Chester Thomas is the last person he wants to talk to right now, he doesn’t think his ego can take it. He fully plans to go home and stare at the ceiling of his bedroom until it is an acceptable time for him to get up again. He is going to leave, really.

So even he’s surprised when he says, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Chester sighs, and steps to the side. “Come on in.”

And, God help him, Benjamin does.

#pulp musicals #the brick satellite #benjamin park #the great moon hoax #rose stratford #samuel stratford #chester thomas #the ghosts of antikythera #angst #my writing #my fanfic

[crutchie-with-a-y]

since nobody can escape those stupid ball trimmer ads on this godforsaken sight here is one more palatable to the newsie fandom <3

#newsies #newsies live #newsies fanart #newsies meme #livesies #newsies fanfic #newsies fandom #newsies fanfiction #newsies imagine #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #manscaped