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strawberriestyles · 4 years ago

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Chapter 22

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Harry didn’t think he wanted Melody behind the wheel when she seemed so upset, but she insisted. Only minutes after her last words with her father, Harry was packing their suitcases into the running car. He hadn’t even buckled his seatbelt before she was backing out of the driveway. Neither of them spoke until they reached the highway, and when Melody’s phone rang, both of them jumped.

“Fuck,” she muttered, trying to slow her racing pulse. “It should be in the front pocket of my suitcase.”

Harry unbuckled his seatbelt and swung around, reaching for her luggage. He made quick work of the zipper, fishing out her phone and turning back around in his seat. He sighed when he saw the screen.

“What?” Melody asked.

“‘S your mum.”

She shook her head slowly, biting into the corner of her lip. “Don’t answer it.”

“Wasn’ plannin’ on it,” Harry muttered, dropping the phone into a cupholder as it stopped ringing. He buckled himself back in and hesitated before turning down the volume on the radio. “So,” he began, “CJ.”

Melody exhaled between her teeth. “Do we have to do this?”

“How many times have yeh forced me to talk about shit I didn’ wanna talk about?”

She chewed on her lip again, glancing over her shoulder to switch lanes. Harry waited for her to speak, but she only shifted beneath his gaze.

“Melody.”

She groaned and mumbled, “I dated him in high school.”

Harry nodded. He’d been able to sort that much out for himself and he was trying not to be bothered. If CJ was going to show up at this party, couldn’t she have warned him? “Yeh loved him?” he asked instead. He wanted to swallow the words as soon as he spoke them. They sounded bitter and jealous.

“No.” Melody glanced briefly at him, shaking her head fervently. “No, I didn’t. I thought I did, but I was sixteen. He was my first serious boyfriend.”

Harry relaxed in his seat, peeling back the collar of his shirt. He wished he’d taken the time to change before they had rushed out of the house.

“Why’d yeh break up?”

Melody shifted her hands, carefully adjusting her swelling knuckles. “When we started looking into college, he wanted me to go to school with him. And he thought it was funny that I wanted to write. It was annoying. So, I dumped him.”

“And tha’s it?”

She frowned, checking the road around her, switching lanes again. “What do you mean? What else would there be?”

“Well, I dunno.” Harry shrugged. “But whatever just happened felt more personal than just an old relationship.”

“He was my first time,” Melody said, peering at him uncomfortably. “Is that what you wanna know?”

Harry groaned, pressing his palms to his forehead. He wished he could push those words right back out of his skull. “Jesus Christ, Melody,” he muttered. “No. No.”

“I’m sorry.” She pulled her right hand into her lap. Stretching her fingers around the wheel was growing increasingly uncomfortable. “Harry, his family is rich and he’s an asshole, okay?” she said. “He was an asshole when I dated him.”

“Sure know how to pick ‘em,” Harry muttered, dropping his hands. He still hadn’t forgotten about Cooper either, and the more he thought about it, the more he felt like just another bad choice.

“Don’t.” Melody’s nose wrinkled as she frowned, her teeth back to worrying at her lip. Harry wondered how she hadn’t managed to bite through the skin yet. “Don’t do that.”

The voice of a radio host carried through the speakers as the song ended. Harry reached to turn the volume down further, but ended up clicking the radio off completely. The was nothing but the subtle hum of the engine, the sound of the car’s tires on the road. “Why’d yeh hit him?“

Melody’s lips parted, her face pinched in confusion. “What do you mean, why?” She looked over at him, too long for comfort when they were moving at such a high speed. “Harry, if someone had said something like that about me, I know for a fact that you wouldn’t think twice before swinging. You think I’m not gonna do the same thing?”

He swallowed, unnerved again by how easily she could predict his actions. If CJ had insulted her, he would have had a lot more to deal with than a bloody lip, but that was beside the point. “I mean,” he said softly, “was it because he was talkin’ shit to me? Or was it because yeh were embarrassed?”

Melody’s breath left her in a gust, as if she’d taken a blow to the stomach. She blinked rapidly into the sunlight reflecting off the car in front of them. “Embarrassed?” she murmured, trying to find sense in the word on her tongue. “You think I’m embarrassed of you?”

The seconds ticked by as she waited for him to deny it. But there wasn’t even music to fill the emptiness, the lack of words.

“Harry.” She huffed through her nose, trying to keep the overwhelming frustration out of her voice when she spoke to him. “God, you are not hearing me. I love you. I tell you that every day. There’s nothing about you for me to be embarrassed by.”

The space between them fell silent again. There was tension here and Melody didn’t understand why, when all she’d done was stick up for him. It was the exact same thing that he’d done for her so many times—with Cooper, with Brian all those months ago, with the random guy at Brute’s on New Year’s Eve. Could he not see that? Could he not understand her motivations as easily as she could sort through his?

“Can you say something?” she whispered, her chest aching in his prolonged silence. “Are you listening?”

“Yes.” He rested his head back against his seat, letting his eyes fall closed. This weekend felt like the longest weekend of his life. “Yes, Mel. I hear it.”

Melody reached over to turn the radio back on when it seemed that the conversation was over. Her phone rang again, but she rejected the call when she saw that it was her mom. Harry, despite the noise, could hear Melody’s breathing shift, air lodging in her throat, shaking as she exhaled through her nose. He peeled his eyes open to look at her and the sight of tears on her cheek knocked the breath from his lungs.

“I don’ understand why yeh’re cryin’ right now,” he whispered.

She swiped at the water trailing down her face, sighing. She didn’t want to be crying. But the events of the past hour had begun to catch up with her. “Because I didn’t want this fucking trip to end like this,” she said. “I kept trying to convince you that everything would be fine and then my dad kind of just kicked me out. Not that I wanted to be there in the first place, but—it’s fucked up. And I didn’t want to see CJ. And because I hit him now my parents have a bad impression of you. God, I’m sorry.”

Harry shook his head, watching her catch her wobbling lip in her teeth again as she finished speaking. “Melody, pull over.”

“What?”

“Yeh’re fuckin’ cryin’ on a four-lane highway,” he said. “Take the next exit. I’ll drive.”

Melody didn’t argue. Lifting her shoulder up to dry her cheek, she checked the next lane, shifting over only a few moments before another exit ramp appeared. They pulled into the empty lot of a gas station just off the exit, wasting no time in rounding the front of the car to switch seats. Melody pulled down the visor, looking at her reflection as she wiped mascara from beneath her eyes. Harry was still adjusting his seat when she spoke again.

“Harry?” she asked in her quiet, gravelly voice—the way she sounded when she was still choked with tears. It was a voice he knew better than he would have liked.

“What?”

“What CJ said about you—” She flipped the visor back up and looked out her window, busying her hands with the hem of her dress. “You know I don’t think that, right?”

Harry buckled his seatbelt, shifting the car into drive and pulling back onto the street, headed for the highway again. “Yeah.” He did know that. She didn’t think anything like that. Somehow, for reasons he didn’t understand, Melody seemed to find more to him than anyone else. But CJ and her parents—even Bea, in the beginning—saw their relationship differently. He was reminded of the way Melody’s classmates had watched him when he was leaving the art gallery, after he’d threatened Cooper, and he wondered how often people silently thought what CJ had actually had the nerve to say aloud.

“He doesn’t know you,” she continued. Harry had almost forgotten she was talking. “And my parents don’t know you. I think—”

“Melody, stop,” he snapped. There was a pause while he took a moment to reel himself back in, to stamp down his tone. He hadn’t meant to spit his words so fiercely. “I don’ need yeh to fuckin’ coddle me. Okay?”

He could feel her eyes on him as they merged back into traffic, but he didn’t look at her. “What?”

“You act like that little shit is gonna send me spiralin’ or somethin’. ‘M not havin’ a breakdown. ‘M fuckin’ fine. Stop.”

Melody watched Harry’s jaw lock as he finished speaking, like he was waiting for her to argue with him. She felt herself deflate. There wasn’t any energy left in her to carry an argument, and there wasn’t really anything to argue about in the first place. She’d only been trying to check where his head was at, and if he didn’t want reassurance, then she would leave him be.

“Okay,” she said softly, nodding. “I’m sorry.” Swallowing around the thick feeling in her throat, she tipped her head back against the headrest and tried to let her whirring mind rest for a moment.

***

When Harry pulled up to the curb in front of Melody’s apartment, he found her asleep in the passenger seat, head propped against the door. Strands of hair were stuck to her cheek, a bit of dried mascara smudging her jaw. He reached for her thigh, shaking her gently, and she woke with a start. She blinked at him in a daze.

“We’re here,” he murmured, cutting the engine. He watched her shift as she woke up, rubbing her eyes before remembering that she’d been wearing makeup, then trying to clean the smears from her skin. He didn’t know what he was waiting for—perhaps another question, more talking—but she got out of the car without a word, tucking her phone back into her suitcase and dragging it from the back seat.

The trip up to the apartment was just as silent. Melody checked the door, then fished for her keys. When they stepped inside, there were no lights on, and the clouds outside set the living room in shadows.

Melody lingered in the kitchen while Harry dragged his things into the bedroom. She heard him rifling through his bag, slamming drawers as he put away clothes. The noise seemed to split whatever tension had been lingering between them.

“Mel!” Harry called. “Where the fuck did I put my phone?”

Melody sighed, letting her bag slide away from her and collapse to the floor. She opened her mouth to tell him that she didn’t know, but before she could speak a hand clamped down over the lower half of her face, pulling her backwards so roughly that her ankle twisted.

A sharp bubble of panic expanded in her gut, twisting her insides. She scrambled to find purchase on the floor, grasping the wrist at her throat. She knew who it was before he spoke, but the whispered “Shh” at her ear still sent an agonizing chill down her spin. Hairs rose along the back of her neck.

“C’mon,” said Harry with a groan from the bedroom. “Yeh’re ignorin’ me? ‘M sor—”

He froze at the doorway, a sweatshirt dangling from one hand. His jaw tightened and he took two heavy steps forward before freezing again, breath held in his lungs.

“What’re yeh wearin’?” Colton asked with a snort. His hand slid down to Melody’s shoulder, forearm tight across her chest. She could hear the smile in his voice and, against her back, she could feel him breathing. It made her stomach churn again.

“What d’yeh want?” Harry growled.

“Just to chat.” Colton’s grip tightened as Harry took another step forward. “Stay where yeh are for now.”

It was then that Melody felt the kiss of cold metal at the side of her neck, just below her ear. She lurched away from it, but Colton yanked her even closer.

“Melody,” Harry said, his voice urgent, yet somehow controlled. “Yeh’re okay. ‘S okay. Mel, look at me.”

Her eyes, wide and panicked and already wet with pooling tears, found his. She felt more caged than ever before, although Colton’s arm loosened around her neck, and his fingers were curled into her dress, not even touching her skin. His forearm might as well have been crushing her throat.

“‘M not gonna let him hurt yeh,” Harry murmured. “I promise.”

“C’mon, mate. Yeh can’ promise her that.” Colton lifted Melody off her feet as she tried to pull away from him again, tearing a strangled gasp from her throat, swinging her right back in front of him. “Can’ even protect yourself, can yeh?”

Melody had prepared for this. When she’d first started training with Sean, she’d been more concerned with protecting herself than with anything else. He’d drilled into her mind so many different ways to break out of a grip like this, but now that it was actually happening, she felt like her mind had emptied, clean as a blank sheet of paper, the unused canvases sitting in her studio. And the harder she tried to remember what she knew, the more panicked she became.

Melody’s next breath caught audibly in her throat and Harry took a step forward before he could think about it. Colton clicked his tongue. Melody’s fingers tightened around his arm as it pressed into her collar. She choked on a ragged sob.

“Told yeh not to move, Haz,” Colton reminded him.

Harry froze, but barely spared a glance. His gaze remained fixed on Melody’s face. “Okay,” he said, drawing in a deep breath. “Okay, yeh wanna talk? Let’s talk. What d’yeh wanna talk about?”

“Where yeh been?” Colton asked. It was strange how much his voice dripped with the sound of Harry’s. But Harry’s calmed Melody, and this varying cadence only made bile rise in her throat. “Been hangin’ around for a couple days and only saw a couple other girls. Thought I had the wrong place.”

“We went to stay with Melody’s parents,” Harry answered.

“Yeah? That why yeh’re all dressed up?” The sneer in his voice was almost palpable. “They like you?”

“No.”

Colton chuckled into Melody’s ear and leaned forward to get a clearer view of her profile. “Yeah, I didn’ think they would. We’re a bit much, huh?”

Melody trembled as Colton’s face leaked into her periphery. Her muscles seized, tight and useless, and when the tip of the knife slipped across her skin, breaking the surface, she grew hot and dizzy. Her feet slipped.

Harry took one faltering step forward.

“Just breathe, Melody. No, no, don’ look at him,” he rushed as she twitched in Colton’s hold. Harry shook his head quickly and patted his chest. “Look at me. Keep watchin’ me. We’re both gonna be just fine, baby.”

“Christ,” Colton said, shaking his head in disbelief, “she’s got yeh absolutely whipped, hasn’ she?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as they met Colton’s. “Have yeh been fuckin’ followin’ her?”

“Me? You trail after her like a lost fuckin’ puppy, mate.”

“‘M not stalking anybody, Colton.”

Colton rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Harry. Somehow I thought she’d put up more of a fight than this. A lot less scarier out of a ring, huh?”

“If yeh want a fight, ‘m right here. Just let her go.”

Melody was trying to keep from holding her breath, but inhaling took effort. The spell of dizziness hadn’t yet faded. She couldn’t remember ever needing space and air more in her life. “Harry,” she managed to mumble, and his eyes snapped back to her face.

“Tha’s right. ‘M right here,” he said, his voice firm. She looked on the verge of passing out. “Not gonna let anythin’ happen to yeh, Mel.”

“Okay, tha’s enough,” Colton snapped, standing upright. He took a step backward, dragging Melody with him. “Melody here is gonna come with me, actually.” He grinned and the stretch of his jaw settled his chin into the top of her hair.

“No.” Harry took a measured step forward, lifting his hands out, and he found them shaking.

Melody could tell he was trying to stay calm for her, but that hint of panic that widened his eyes broke something deep within her. She shrieked. The sound left her throat raw and when Colton’s arm pressed down on her neck, she fell into hysterical, flowing tears.

“Stop!” Harry shouted. He looked fully at Colton for the first time, his glare murderous, and his outstretched hands closed into fists. “Colton, if yeh don’ get your fuckin’ hands off of her... Hurt her again and it’ll be the last thing yeh do. I swear to fuckin’ God.”

“What’re yeh gonna do? Glare at me to death?”

“Let her go!”

“Nah.”

Harry, helpless, could think of nothing else but to stall him. “What d’yeh even want with her?”

Colton’s wicked grin faded. “Harry, d’yeh know what ‘s like to be a wanted criminal? Anythin’ you’ve done has been covered up. Yeh’re protected by the cops. Me? They found me I would’ve been locked up. And ‘m not gettin’ locked up. So, ‘m just gonna take your girl as payment for the worst year of my life.”

“Worst year of your life?” Harry scoffed. “You fuckin’ shot me. In the head.”

“Oh, like yeh weren’ gonna shoot me. Yeh’re fine now, anyway. No harm done.”

“‘M fine?” Harry demanded. “Fuck off.” His eyes flickered back to Melody, his anger softening as a newfound desperation climbed up his throat. “Let her go. Please.”

“Jesus Christ, are yeh really gonna beg me?”

The sound of sirens split through the night, so distant that Melody thought she might have imagined it. Harry glanced at the open apartment door. Colton fell silent, stiff at Melody’s back. “When the fuck did yeh call the cops?”

“I didn’,” Harry hissed. His eyes flitted back and forth between Colton and Melody, trying to find a way he could separate them without her getting hurt. “I didn’ call anyone.”

“Well,” Colton murmured, “‘s time for us to leave.” He drew Melody toward the hall and she dug her nails into his arm.

“Colton!” Harry yelled. He chanced a few steps forward before restraining himself. “Leave her here. Yeh’re not gonna get very far draggin’ her around.”

“As if yeh want me to—”

Melody fell, at first only because she was dizzy, but soon with purpose as she began to slip beneath Colton’s arm in his distraction. She felt the tip of his knife slice her neck before she reached the floor, and then the blade went skittering across the floorboards. Everything seemed to erupt. Harry dove and Colton met him in the air, slamming a fist into Harry’s jaw. They rolled until Harry sat on Colton’s stomach. Melody watched punches fall like hail. Blood spilled around them. It felt like a film reel.

A hand shot across the floor for the knife and it whipped through the air. The butt of the handle smashed into the side of Harry’s head, throwing him from atop Colton, who scrambled toward the door on his hands and knees, blood pouring from his nose.

Melody heard footsteps pounding down the stairwell after he disappeared. The sirens were so much closer, now. But it felt like there was cotton in her ears, a layer detaching her from her surroundings.

“Melody.” Harry sat up, a hand pressed to his head, wincing. “C’mere, baby. He’s gone.”

“Oh, my God.” Bea had appeared in the doorway to her room at the sound of Colton fleeing. “Are you okay? Melody? You guys are okay?”

Harry nodded quickly, dismissively. “You called?”

“Yeah, I called.” Her eyes swept the kitchen, lingering on the spray of blood that surrounded Harry like a salt circle. “Is she okay?” she repeated, nodding to Melody, who still hadn’t moved.

Harry nodded, wincing again as the tender spot on his scalp throbbed. He shuffled across the floor toward Melody as Bea rushed toward the apartment door, clicking the locks into place.

“Okay?” Harry whispered. He let go of his head, pulling Melody toward him when he reached her, feeling her shake beneath his hands. “I’ve got yeh. Tell me yeh’re okay, baby.”

Melody wasn’t processing a word he was speaking to her. “I’m sorry,” she was chanting beneath her breath. It seemed to be all that she could get out. “I’m sorry, sorry.” Her mind felt like it was lagging by entire minutes. She had trouble making sense of Bea’s presence, that she’d been in the apartment the whole time, that she had called the police.

It took Harry a minute to decipher her mumbling. “Why the fuck are yeh apologizin’ to me, Mel?”

“I clammed up,” she stammered out. “Sean taught me to—”

“No. No, ‘s not the same as real life, love. Not when yeh’re face to face with somethin’ that scares yeh like that. Sean will be damn proud of you.” He pulled her even closer, his voice quiet. “I am so proud of you. Yeh’re fuckin’ incredible.”

A fresh wave of tears welled up along her lashes. Harry grasped her face, thumbing strands of hair from her cheeks. His eyes roamed her features and then he hissed, clapping a hand to the side of her neck. “Fuck’s sake, yeh’re bleedin’.”

“I’m—I’m okay.” She inhaled, shaky, and it felt like the first breath she’d ever taken. “Are you okay?”

“Mel,” he said, exasperated, “‘m fine.”

Melody swiped at her eyes and reached for Harry’s chin. His lip was bleeding. “He hit you.”

“‘M used to gettin’ hit, love.”

“But your head,” she pressed.

“It hurts, but ‘s not the worst ‘s been.” He pulled her hands back down when she tried to turn his head, keeping them clasped tight between his, her blood smearing between them. “Baby, I swear to yeh, ‘m okay. We’re fine. Right?”

Melody nodded, finally glancing at Bea, tears beginning to slip over her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Bea glanced toward the locked door and wrapped her arms around herself, clutching the sides of her sweater. “I was trying to take a nap,” she explained. “And then I heard Harry and...”

Melody flinched as Harry touched her face again, this time wiping her tears with his knuckles to avoid staining her skin with more blood. She watched a deep groove settle into the space between his brows.

“Is he gonna come back?” she whispered.

“No.” Harry shook his head fervently, then winced. He pressed a fist to his forehead, grumbling out, “No, they’ll find him.”

“Harry,” Melody breathed, “are you okay?”

“Ah, fuck,” he hissed, falling from his crouch, onto his knees, his palms clapped to his head. His eyes screwed shut and his teeth ground together, and a moment later he had tipped forward, pressing his forehead into the kitchen floor.

“Harry,” Melody said again. A sound like she’d never heard before ripped from his throat, loud and raw, debilitatingly agonized. She slid an arm beneath his shoulders, hauling his torso across her lap.

“Bea. Bea, his pain pills,” she pleaded, looking up at her friend. “They’re on my dresser. Please.”

“Mel,” Bea said quietly, shaking her head in dismay, “they’re not gonna work right away.”

“I know, I know.” Melody drew a hand down Harry’s back, watching his body shift. “Shit.”

Harry ripped out of her hold a moment later, like space might help the pain. When there was no relief, his forehead crashed against her shoulder, one arm bent up around her neck, both hands clutching wildly at his head again. She locked her arms around his waist.

“Please, go get them,” she begged Bea, who darted across the room.

“Melody,” Harry grunted against her skin. “I can’—”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered when his voice cut off. She wanted to fix him. She wanted to press her lips to his head and take the pain away, and her inability to make it better had her sick to the stomach. “I’m sorry. Harry, you’re gonna be okay.”

“Oh, God.” Bea was crying when she returned. Melody stared at her helplessly. She’d seen Bea cry only once in the years that she’d known her, and it was when she was so drunk out of her mind she couldn’t even figure out why she was crying in the first place. Was she crying from the stress of the past few minutes? Because Harry was in pain?

There was a pounding on the door not a moment after they’d forced a couple of pills down Harry’s throat. Bea and Melody flinched but Harry just yelled in his cracked, broken voice. Melody clutched him closer.

“Police.” The voice was familiar, but for once it didn’t send Melody’s heart into her gut. “Open up.”

Bea waited for Melody’s nod of approval before unlocking the door, allowing Brian and his partner into the apartment. Melody’s mind was no longer lagging. If anything, it was working double speed. She didn’t wait for anyone else to speak before words were spilling from her mouth.

“Colton was here two minutes ago,” she rushed. “I heard him leave the building. He was wearing a black sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. But Harry needs to go to the hospital. Please.”

Brian nodded along as she spoke. He looked down at Harry, still clinging to her, his face mostly hidden but his teeth grinding in agony.

“Would you believe me if I said we found him already?”

Bea exhaled in a huff. Melody’s heart nearly beat out of her chest. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Did you arrest him? Are you taking him in?”

Brian’s eyes wandered across the apartment, through the living room and to the window. The city was growing even darker as the limited sunlight withdrew for the evening. Melody’s nerves felt further fried with every passing moment without a response.

“Brian.”

“Well, it wasn’t us personally who found him,” he murmured. “It was a few other officers in the area on patrol.”

“Okay,” she pressed. “They lost him?”

“No. Uh...” He took a deep breath before looking at her again. “He came at them with a knife. He’s dead.”

Melody reeled backward, nearly yanking Harry off of his knees. He hissed at the movement. The sound caught everyone’s attention again and despite the strange feeling in her gut, the shock that Brian’s words dredged back up, Melody shook her head and pushed this new knowledge to the back of her mind.

“Can you take us to the hospital?” she asked.

Brian nodded, stepping forward to grasp one of Harry’s arms and pull him to his feet. “What’s wrong with him?”

Melody watched Harry slump into Brian’s side. She dragged herself up from the floor. “Colton hit him in the head.”

Brian’s partner—Melody had never learned his name, though she’d pictured his face countless times in her mind when she thought back to being kidnapped—supported Harry from the other side. Melody glanced at Bea before she followed them.

“I’ll meet you there,” Bea assured her, waving her on. “I’ll pack you each a bag just in case.”

Melody felt like she could have cried again. She crossed the kitchen in a few strides and threw her arms around Bea, resting her neck on Bea’s shoulder. “I love you. Thank you.”

Bea nodded in agreement. “I love you, too.” She could hear the cops and Harry making their ways down the staircase, their shoes squeaking, and she squeezed Melody once more before patting her shoulder blade. “Go,” she breathed, and Melody flew out the door. Bea locked it behind her.

Chapter 23

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles x ofc #boxer!harry #boxer!au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ferocity

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myblueeyedbuggers · 4 years ago

Text

My Boys

Chapter 9

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (best friend) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1851

Warnings: Slow Start, Language, Tiny bit of Fluff

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change

So, hi again…I’m gonna be completely honest I’ve practically had no time to sit down and write for the past couple of weeks, college rained down tons of assignments and work kept asking me to do extra shifts. Hopefully you all understand the delay in updates, I’m determined to finish this book for you all, anyways I’ll shut up Enjoy 😊

Whoever decided to wake me up and drag me away from the glorious land of sleep will suffer my early morning wrath, slowly I opened my eyes and the outline of two very stupid and annoying boys filled my vision. “Have you two never heard the saying don’t tickle a sleeping dragon? I quite clearly need my beauty sleep!” why is it every time I threaten to murder these two they just start laughin’? what the hell is wrong with em?!, “ Well good mornin’ to you too doll face, as much as I’d like to stay here and trade threats mama wants you outta bed for breakfast so get ya butt moving” My eyes narrowed at Bucky as he started to follow Steve outta the room, the smirk on his face widening as I reluctantly moved out of bed.

I’ve only been here a week and I’ve nearly killed him at least 50 times, wait that’s not something I should be proud of is it? in my defence Barnes can be a right little shit when he wants to be! Two days ago, he thought it’d be funny to drench me with water in the middle of the day, it’s safe to say he didn’t climb down the tree for a fair few hours. The smell of bacon and pancakes made me completely forget whatever the hell I was talking about, I shouldn’t have rushed pulling my pants on cause my dumbass failed to see that the left leg got caught on the draw knob and I was once again hugging the floor with my bloody face. Great that didn’t hurt at all!

Right let’s check for damage, bruises? Nope scratches? Nope pride and dignity? That went a long time ago who am I kidding? “Y/N You comin down or what?!” Jesus Christ that boy has a voice like a flipping fog horn, I wouldn’t be surprised if they heard Steve in queens! “Yeah give me a minute will ya! No need to get your panties in a twist Stevie” I’m pretty sure I can hear Becca and Bucky laughin’ from up here. Okay enough time’s been spent getting dressed, at this rate the boys will have inhaled all the food…the thought alone is enough to terrifying!

“Right you lads better of left me at least one pancake and 3 strips of bacon or they’ll be hell to pay later” as a rule most people say good morning but I like to start the day with a decent dashing of threats and insults, cause I’m a friendly person…okay nope that’s a big pile of bullc**p and I know it. “Well mornin to you too y/n, the pancakes are on the table and the bacons on Bucks plate feel free to take some” a muffled sound of protest could be heard over my laughter as Bucky shot Steve a look of utter disbelief. “I think I’ll skip on the bacon then Stevie, by the looks of it Bucks already drooled all over it” Steve and I shared a look before we burst out laughing, Buck was glaring at the both of us with syrup dribbling down his chin and I gotta be honest it looked hilarious. “You guys done laughin’ at me yet or would you like to gang up on me some more?” is this boy dumb or somethin’? “Buck, I’d be on my deathbed and my final words would be some form of insult towards you”.

And there I go signing my death sentence again, at this point Steve wasn’t even on his chair anymore, instead he was lying on the floor completely pissin’ himself laughing while Bucky slowly stood up and started walking round the table. “Oh would you look at the time! Gotta go guys my appointment with the grim reaper’s in a minute!” hey y/n maybe it’s time you start running?! With a small shriek I turned and bolted out the backdoor with a pretty pissed off Barnes boy on my tail. The sunlight blinded me for a couple of seconds, so I was kinda running without knowing what was around me…and as per usual life decided to firmly kick my ass using the form of a bloody tree. A sharp stinging sensation spread across my entire face, huh reminds me of when I ran into that door…only that didn’t hurt half as much and there wasn’t an annoying brunette prick absolutely creasing with laughter behind me. I’m pretty sure that in the process of the tree b**tch slappin’ me I cut the left side of my cheek…oh would you look at that there’s the blood that should have stayed inside me, I couldn’t stop the small groan of pain that slipped outta my mouth, the lower half of my back was more than likely battered to all hell and the stinging in my cheek wasn’t helping either.

Apparently, the sound of my suffering seemed to break the idiot outta his little laughin’ session, I raised my eyebrows at him when it finally dawned on him that I hurt myself and that was pretty funny, all the colour drained from Bucky’s face, his eye’s widened when he noticed the lovely new edition to my face and pretty soon he reached a hand out to help me up. Such a gentleman… that’s if you replace the gentle bit with idiotic. The second I was on my feet, he pulled me into a hug and began checking my face and head, I’m hoping to god he can’t see my flamin’ cheeks cause I know for a fact he would never let me live that down. To be completely honest all I could concentrate on was the gentle touch on his hands on my cheek and the look on Bucky’s face, his eyes were completely focused on my cut. How have I never noticed that his eyes have the smallest flecks of green in them? Or how his dimples show when he frowns?… more importantly why do I feel both excited and terrified but somehow warm at the same time?

My little daze was broken when I realised that his lips were movin’ and I had no idea what the hell he just said, but he must of asked me a question cause he was lookin’ at me waitin’ for his answer. Bollocks. “What’d you say Buck?” Jesus Christ could I have been anymore obvious?! Maybe I should make a giant banner and smack him in the face with it, oh for godsake am I blushin’ again?!, the small smirk on his face grew into a sh*t eating grin as he threw his arm around my shoulders and dragged me back to the house. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say that you y/n were completely blow away by the masterpiece that is my face” oh great I’ve managed to inflate his ego even more, “Actually I wasn’t gonna say anythin’ but you’ve got a little somethin’ stuck in your front teeth” and just like that all the cockiness drained outta his body.

The arm around my shoulder disappeared rather quickly, to my amusement the boy next to me did as well, I could feel the little smirk on my face as I carried on walkin’ forward as he stayed behind more than likely doin’ that cute stupid thing with his eyes. Wait what did I just say?! What the heck is wrong with me these days? Its like a flippin’ alien’s taken over me and made me into a normal girl! .It feels all kinds of wrong. A sudden cough disrupts my inner monologue, my eyes roll to the sky as the smirk reappears on my face, I can’t help the laugh that escapes me when my gaze meets Bucky’s. He was stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed as I continued to laugh and slowly his face formed a pout as he waited for me to finish completely wetting myself with laughter. “You done yet?” his brow was pulled in as he tried to fight off the smile, “Do I actually have somethin’ in my teeth or were you just being a bully?”.

“Nah, just needed to keep your ego in check before it inflated and carried you away into the wind” Buck looked like I’d just shot him in the chest, I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughin’ at him as I turned and started walkin’ back to the house. “Ya know you can be a real piece of work when ya wanna be don’t ya?” thank you captain obvious! “I know I am, you know I do it out of love don’t ya?” I shot him a small smile as I wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him in for a side hug, Bucky shook his head with a small smile, but accepted the hug anyway. After that we stayed in a comfortable silence as we walked back towards the house, his arm never pulled away from me till we got inside, that was until Mrs Barnes walked into the kitchen and saw the cut on my cheek, to simply put it she completely freaked out.

I watched her quickly shoo everyone outta the kitchen, she somehow managed to pull a chair out and sit me down while grabbing a towel and bandages, question after question was fired at me while she gently started cleaning to cut. After a while the conversation died out, Mama B was completely fixated on cleaning the cut and if I’m honest the silence was peaceful, well it was for the 5 seconds it lasted.

Bucky burst through the door lookin’ like someone was trying to murder him, not that I could blame them, 2 seconds later Steve and Becca burst through the door armed with…wait is that eyeshadow and lipstick? I watched as Bucky backed into the corner, his eyes wide as he begged them both of them for mercy, whatever he did to piss the pair off clearly warranted this man hunt and there is no way in hell I wanted to stop it just before it got good. Soon enough Becca and Steve some how managed to pin down Buck, and despite the many protests, the pair managed to smear the lipstick all over his face and dump most of the eyeshadow in his hair.

I tried my hardest not to laugh I swear, but he looked like a very disturbed and demented fairy princess and I couldn’t hold it in anymore, soon enough we were all having a little laugh at the poor bloke, eventually Buck saw the funny side of it and he too joined in with the mess that was the Barnes family.

So, I’m gonna be honest here this is more of a filler chapter/character development hopefully it didn’t suck as much as I think it did XD Okay I’ll stop rambling, Thanks for reading!

Rose Xxx

#winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america x reader #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu #fanfic #reader #reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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love-pyramus · 4 years ago

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RACETRACK: In 1899, the street of New York City echoed with the voices of newsies, peddeling the newspapers of Joseph Pulitzer, William Randolph Hearst and other giants of the newspaper world. On every street corner you saw 'em, carrying the banner, bringing you the news for a penny a pape. Poor orphans and run-aways, the newsies were a ragged army, without a leader, until one day when all that changed.

(The movie title appears. We see the outside of the Newsboys Lodging House. Inside, Kloppman, the owner, enters the bunkroom, finding the boys still in bed.)

KLOPPMAN: Boots! Skittery! Skittery! Skittery!

SKITTERY: Wha..I didn't do it!

KLOPPMAN: What do you mean you didn't do it? Will you get up? When you get up, it's time to get up! Snitch! Get up! Get up! Everybody's sleeping. They sleep their lives away these kids! The presses are rolling! Sell the papers, sell the papers! Come on, come on. You dreaming about selling papers?

JACK: Mmmmmm? What's the matta with you?

KLOPPMAN: What's the matter with me?

JACK: What's the matta with you? Wanna..go..back..to..

KLOPPMAN: Come on! (gives him a shove)

JACK: Get away from me, you're mad!

KLOPPMAN: Haha. Get up boy! Come on. Alright! Carry the banner! Sell the papers!

(Racetrack looks around for his cigar, noticing that Snipeshooter has it)

*Start Song*

RACETRACK: That's my cigar!

SNIPESHOOTER: You'll steal anudder!

KID BLINK: Hey bummers, we got work tah do!

KID: Since when did you become me mudder?

CRUTCHY: Aww, stop your bawling!

NEWSIES: Hey, who asked you?

MUSH: So, how'd you sleep Jack?

JACK: On me back Mush.

MUSH: Ha ha. Hear that fellas? Hear what Jack said? I asked Jack how he slept and he said 'On me back Mush'

CRUTCHY: Jack, when I walk, does it look like I'm faking it?

JACK: No. Who says you're faking it?

CRUTCHY: I dunno. It's just there's so many fake crips on the street today, a real crip ain't got a chance. I gotta find me a new selling spot where they ain't used to seeing me.

MUSH: Try Bottle Alley or the harbour

RACETRACK: Try Central Park, it's guaranteed

JACK: Try any baker, bum, or barber

SKITTERY: They almost all knows how to read

KID BLINK: I smell money

CRUTCHY: You smell foul!

MUSH: Met this girl last night

CRUTCHY: Move your elbow!

RACETRACK: Pass the towel!

SKITTERY: For a buck I might!

NEWSIES: Ain't it a fine life Carrying the banner through it all? A mighty fine life Carrying the banner tough and tall Every morning, we goes where we wishes We's as free as fished Sure beats washin' dishes What a fine life Carrying the banner home-free all!

(The newsies leave the Lodging House and head towards Newsies Square)

Summer stinks and winter's waiting Welcome to New York Boy, ain't nature fascinating When you'se gotta walk? Still, it's a fine life Carrying the banner with me chums A mighty fine life Blowing every nickel as it comes

CRUTCHY: I'm no snoozer Sitting makes me antsy I likes living chancy

NEWSIES: Harlem tah Delancey What a fine life Carrying the banner through the slums

NUNS: Blessed children thought you wonder lost and depraved Jesus loves you, you shall be saved!

PATRICK'S MOTHER: Patrick, darling Since you left me, I am undone Mother loves you God save my son!

(Sung in counterpoint)

RACETRACK: Just give me half a cup

KID BLINK: Something to wake me up

MUSH: I gotta find an angle

CRUTCHY: I gotta sell more papes

VARIOUS NEWSIES: Papers is all I got Wish I could catch a breeze Sure hope the headline's hot All I can catch is fleas God help me if it's not Somebody help me, please..

(End counterpoint)

NEWSIES: If I hate the headline, I'll make up the headline And I'll say anything I hafta 'Cause it's two for a penny, if I take too many Weasel just makes me eat 'em afta

(Sung in counterpoint)

1. Look! They're putting up the headline They call that a headline? I get better stories from the copper on the beat I was gunna start with twenty but a dozen'll be plenty Tell me, how'm I gonna make ends meet?

2. What's it say? That won't pay! So where's your spot? God, it's hot! Will ya tell me how'm I gonna make ends meet?

(End counterpoint)

NEWSIES: We need a good assassination! We need an earthquake or a war!

SNIPESHOOTER: How 'bout a crooked politician?

NEWSIES: Hey, stupid, that ain't news no more! Uptown to Grand Central Station Down to City Hall We improves our circulation Walkin' til we fall!

(Sung in counterpoint)

1. Still we'll be out there Carrying the banner man to man! Yes, we'll be out there Soaking every sucker that we can! See the headline Newsies on a mission Kill the competition Sell the next edition While we're out there Carrying the banner is the...

2.Look, they're putting up the headline They call that a headlin The idiot who wrote it must be working for the Sun Didja hear about the fire?

3.Heard it killed old man Maguire!

2.Heard the toll was ever higher

3.Why do I miss all the fun?

2.Hitched it on a Trolly

3.Meetcha Forty-Fourth and Second

2.Little Italy's a secret

3.Bleecker's further than I reckoned

2.At the courthouse

3.Near the stables

2.On the corner someone beckoned and I....

(The Delancey brothers, Oscar and Morris, enter.)

RACETRACK: Dear me! What is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewer may have backed up during the night

BOOTS: Nah, too rotten to be the sewers.

CRUTCHY: It must be the Delancey brudders.

RACETRACK: Hiya boys!

OSCAR:(to Snipeshooter) In the back, you lousy little shrimp. (Oscar throws Snipeshooter to the ground. Jack goes to help him up)

RACETRACK: It's not good to do that. Not healthy

JACK: You shouldn't call people lously little shrimps, Oscar, unless you're refering to the family resemblance in your brudda here.

RACETRACK: 5-1 that Cowboys skunks 'em. Who's betting?

JACK: That's right. It's an insult. So's this

(Jack knocks Morris' hat off his head. The Delancey's chase Jack around the Square. David and Les enter and watch until Jack bumps into them.)

DAVID: What do you think you're doing?

JACK: Runnin'!

NEWSIES: (Sung in counterpoint)

1.It's a fine life Carrying the banner through it all A mighty fine life Carrying the banner tough and tall See the headline Newsies on a mission Kill the competition Sell the next edition What a fine life Carrying the banner!

2.Would you look at the headline You call that a headline? I get better stories from the copper on the beat I was gonna start with twenty but a dozen'll be plenty Would you tell me how'm I ever gonna make ends meet Hitched it on a Trolly Meetcha Forty-Fourth and Second Little Italy's a secret Bleecker's further than I reckoned By the courthouse, near the stables On the corner someone beckoned! Go get 'em Cowboy! You've got 'em now boy!

(End counterpoint)

NEWSIES: Go!

WORLD EMPLOYEE: These is for the newsies!

(The newsies line up for their papes, congratulating Jack on beating the Delancey's)

MORRIS: See you tomorrow, Cowboy

OSCAR: You're as good as dead, Cowboy

JACK: Oh Mr. Weasel.

WEASEL: Alright, alright! Hold your horses! I'm coming, I'm coming.

JACK: So, didja miss me Weasel? Huh, did you miss me?

WEASEL: I told ya a million times, the name's Wisel. Mr. Wisel to you. How many?

JACK: Don't rush me, I'm perusing the merchandise Mr. Weasel. The usual.

WEASEL: 100 papes for the wise guy. Next!

RACETRACK: Morning your honor! Listen, do me a favor, spot me 50 papes? I got a hot tip int the fourth, you won't waste your money.

WEASEL: It's a sure thing?

RACETRACK: Yeah. Not like last time.

WEASEL: 50 papes! Next!

CRUTCHY: Heya Mr. Wisel.

RACETRACK: See anything good this morning?

WEASEL: 30 papes for Crutchy! Next!

JACK:(to Les) You wanna sit down?

DAVID: 20 papers please. Thanks.

RACETRACK: Look at this, 'Baby Born With Two Heads'. Must be from Brooklyn.

WEASEL: Hey, you got your lously papes, now beat it!

DAVID: I paid for twenty. I only got nineteen.

WEASEL: Are you accusing me of lying kid?

DAVID: No. I just want my paper.

MORRIS: He said beat it!

JACK: No, it's nineteen. It's nineteen, but don't worry about it. It's an honest mistake. I mean, Morris here can't count to twenty with his

shoes on. Hey Race, will ya spot me 2 bits? Another 50 for my friend.

DAVID: I don't want another 50.

JACK: Sure you do. Every newsie wants more papes.

DAVID: I don't. I don't want your papes. I don't take charity from anyone. I don't know you. I don't care to. Here are your papes.

LES: Cowboy. They called him Cowboy.

JACK: Yeah, I'm called that and a lot of other things, including Jack Kelly, which is what me mudder called me.what do they call you kid?

LES: Les, and this is my brother David. He's older.

JACK: No kidding. So how old are you Les?

LES: Me? Near 10.

JACK: Near 10. Well, that's no good. if anyone asks, you're 7. You see, younger sells more papes and if we're gonna be partners, we wanna

be the best.

DAVID: Wait. Who said anything about being partners?

JACK: Well, you owe me 2 bits right? Well, I'll consider that an investment. We sell together, we split 70-30, plus you get the benefit of observing me, no charge.

DAVID: Ah-ha.

JACK: (mocking) Ah-ha.

CRUTCHY: You're getting the chance of a lifetime here, Davey. You learn from Jack, you learn from the best.

DAVID: Well, if he's the best, then how come he needs me?

JACK: Listen,I don't need you, pal,but I ain't got a cute little brudder like Les here to front for me. With this kid's puss and my God-given talent, we could move a thousand papes a week. So what do you say Les? You wanna sell papes with me?

LES: Yeah!

JACK: So we got a deal?

DAVID: Wait. It's got to be at least 50-50.

JACK: 60-40, I forget the whole thing.

(David holds out his hand. Jack spits on his hand and reaches for David, who pulls his arm away.)

JACK: What'sa matta?

DAVID: That's disgusting!

(By this time, the rest of the newsies have gotten their papers and are moving out into the street.)

JACK: The name of the game is volume, Dave. You only took twenty papes. Why?

DAVID: Bad headline.

JACK: That's the first thing you gotta learn. Headlines don't sell papes, newsies sell papes. You know, we're what holds this town together.

Without newsies, nobody knows nothing.

(A girl hurries past and the newsies take off their hats and make a few comments)

SPECS: Baby born with three heads!

(The newsies begin to yell out various headlines as the spread out over the streets. We go into Pulitzer's office where Pulitzer is reading the headline. Also in the room is Jonathan, Seitz and another World employee.)

PULITZER: 'Trolly Strike Drags On For Third Week' and this so called headline drags on for infinity.

EMPLOYEE: News is slow, Mr. Pulitzer. The trolly strike's all we've got.

PULITZER: Well, that's all Mr. William Randolph Hearst has too, but look how he covers the strike. Look! Look!

EMPLOYEE: We'll get a new headline writer, sir.

PULITZER: Steal Hearst's man. Offer him double.

SEITZ: That's how he stole him from us. It's not the headlines, Chief. The circulation wars are cutting into our profits because you spend as much as you make trying to beat Hearst.

PULITZER: Then we need to make more money. You do not penny-pinch when you're in a war, Seitz. Victory means everything. Now, when I created the world... what is that deafening noise?

JONATHAN: Just the newsies, sir. I'll go have them quieted.

PULITZER: Never mind the newsies. Where was I?

SEITZ: Creating the world, Chief.

PULITZER: There's lots of money down there, gentlemen. I want to know how I can get more of it...by tonight.

(We are now in the streets of New York. Jack and David roam through the crowds.)

DAVID: Extra! Extra! Trolly strike drags on!

JACK: Extra! Extra! Ellis Island in flames!

DAVID: Wait, where's that story?

JACK: Thank you sir. Page 9. Thousands flee in panic. Thank you. Much obliged to you ladies.

DAVID 'Trash Fire Next To Immigration Building Terrifies Seagulls'??

JACK: Terrified flight of inferno!! Thousands of lives at stake! Extra! Extra! Thank you sir. Extra! Extra!

(Les enters)

JACK: Hey, you start in the back like I told you? Ok, show me again.

LES: (coughs) Buy me last pape, mista?

JACK: It's heartbreaking kid. Go get 'em.

DAVID: My father taught us not to lie.

JACK: Well, mine told me not to starve, so we both got an education.

DAVID: You're just making up things. All these headlines.

JACK: I don't do nothing the guys who write it don't do. Anyway, it's not lying, it's just improving the truth little.

(Warden Snyder enters and see Jack. Les re-enters)

LES: The guy gave me a quarter. Quick, give me some more last papers.

DAVID: Wait, wait. You smell like beer.

LES: Well, that's how I made the quarter. The guy bet me I wouldn't drink some.

JACK: Hey, no drinking on the job. It's bad for business. And what if somebody called the cop on you?

DAVID: (pointing to Snyder) Is he a friend of your's?

JACK: Beat it! It's the bulls!

LES: All this over one sip of beer?

(Snyder chases Jack, David and Les through the streets, and into a building. They run up the stairs and get to the roof. Without stopping for a second, Jack jumps off the roof, leaving David and Les alone. Jack's head pops up and David and Les join him on a ledge just as Snyder enters.)

SNYDER: Sullivan! Wait til I get you back to the Refuge!

(Jack leads David and Les a little more, when David pulls him to a halt outside Irving Hall)

DAVID: I'm not running any further.

(Jack leads the two brothers inside.)

DAVID: I want some answers.

JACK: Shhh!

DAVID: Who was he and why was he chasing you? And what is this Refuge?

JACK: The Refuge is a jail for kids. That guy chasing me was Snyder, the warden.

LES: You were in jail?

JACK: Yeah.

LES: Why?

JACK: Well, I was starving, so I stole some food.

DAVID: Food?

JACK: Yeah, food.

DAVID: He called you Sullivan.

JACK: Well, my name's Kelly. Jack Kelly. You think I'm lying?

DAVID: Well, you have a way of improving the truth. Why was he chasing you?

JACK: 'Cause I escaped.

LES: Oh boy! How?

JACK: Well, this big shot gave me a ride out in his carriage.

DAVID: I bet it was the mayor.

JACK: No, Teddy Roosevelt. You ever heard of him?

MEDDA: What's going on there? Out! Out! Out!

JACK: You wouldn't kick me out without a kiss goodbye, wouldja Medda?

MEDDA: Oh Kelly. Where ya been, kid? Oh, I miss seeing you up in the balcony.

JACK: Hanging on your every word. So Medda.

MEDDA: Yes.

JACK: This is David and Les.

MEDDA: Hello.

JACK: And this is the greatest star of the vaudeville stage today, Miss Medda Larkson, the Swedish Meadowlark.

MEDDA: Welcome, gentlemen.

JACK: Medda also owns the joint.

MEDDA: Oh, what do we have here? Oh, aren't you the cutest little thing that ever was? Yes you are.

LES: (cough) Buy me last pape, lady?

MEDDA: Oh, you are good. Oh yes, this kid is really good. Speaking as one professional to another, I'd say you have a great future.

JACK: So, is it alright if we stay here for a little while, Medda? Just until a little problem outside goes away.

MEDDA: Sure,stay as long as you like. Toby, just give my guests whatever they want.

ANNOUNCER: And now gents, the moment you've all been waiting for. The sensational songbird. The Swedish Meadowlark, Miss Medda Larkson.

(Medda goes on stage. Jack, David and Les watch from backstage.)

MEDDA: My lovey dovey baby I boo-hoo-hoo for you I used to be your tootsie-wootsie Then you said 'tooldle-dedoo' I miss the hanky-panky Each nighty-night til three Come back my lovey dovey baby And coochie-coo with me!

(After the show, the boys go outside)

JACK: So, you like that?

DAVID: Oh,I loved that. I loved it. It was great. She is beautiful. How do you know her?

JACK: She was a friend of me fadder's. Come on, Les, you wanna shine me shoes for me?

DAVID: Oh, it's getting late. My parents are going to be worried. What about your's?

JACK: Nah, they're out west looking for a place to live, like this. (Pulls out a Santa Fe brochure) See, that's Santa Fe, New Mexico. As soon as they find the right ranch, they're gonna send for me.

LES: Then you'll be a real cowboy.

JACK: Yup.

(Fire and loud crashes are heard. The boys run and see a riot breaking out. A group of men are beating up another man.)

DAVID: Jack! Why don't we go to my place and divi up. You can meet my folks.

JACK: It's the trolly strike, Dave. These couple of dumb-asses must not have joined or something.

DAVID: Jack, let's get out of here.

JACK: So, maybe we'll get a good headline tomorrow, Dave. Look at this, he slept the whole way threw it.

(Jack picks up Les from the bench where he fell asleep. They enter David's house.)

ESTER: My God. What happened?

DAVID: Nothing, mama. He's just sleeping.

MAYER: We've been waiting dinner for you. Where have you been? (David puts a pile of coins on the table.)

MAYER: You made all this selling newspapers?

DAVID: Well, half of it's Jack's. This is our selling partner, and our friend. Jack Kelly, my parents. And that's my sister, Sarah.

MAYER: Ester, maybe David's partner would like to join us for dinner. Why don't you add a little more water to the soup?

(He kisses her. She shoves him away playfully)

ESTER: Mayer!

(After dinner, they talk as Sarah clears the table.)

JACK: So, from wat I saw today, you're boys are a couple of born newsies. Can I have some more?

SARAH: Yes.

JACK: So with their hard work and my experience,I figure we can peddle a thousand papes a week and not even break a sweat.

MAYER: That many?

JACK: More when the headline's good.

SARAH: So what makes the headline good?

JACK: Oh, you know. Catchy words like maniac, or corpse, umm..lovenest, or nude. Excuse me. Maybe I'm talkin' too much.

MAYER: Sarah? Go get the cake your mother's hiding in the cabinet.

ESTER: That's for your birthday tomorrow!

MAYOR: Well, I've had enough birthdays. This is a celebration.

DAVID: I'll get the knife.

SARAH: I got the plates.

DAVID: This is only the beginning, papa. The longer I work, the more money I'll make.

MAYER: You'll only work until I go back to the factory, and then you are going back to school, like you promised.

SARAH: Happy birthday, papa.

MAYER: This is going to heal, and they'll give me my job back. We'll make them

(Les stirs, but doesn't wake up in bed.)

LES: Come back my lovey dovey baby And coochie-coo with me!

(David and Jack start laughing)

ESTER: And what is this David?

(The boys try to stop laughing, but can't. Scene: LATER THAT NIGHT, on David's fire escape)

JACK: So, how'd your pop get hurt?

DAVID: At the factory. It was an accident. He's no good to them anymore, so they just fired him.

(Mayer appears at the window.)

MAYER: David, it's time to come in now.

DAVID: Alright. Jack, why don't you stay here tonight?

JACK: Ah, no, thanks. I got a place of my own. But you're family's real nice, like mine.

DAVID: See you tomorrow.

JACK: Alright.

DAVID: Carrying the banner.

JACK: Carrying the banner.

(David goes inside, leaving Jack alone on the fire escape. He looks in the window and see the family together.)

JACK: So that's what they call a family Mudder, fadder, daughter, son Guess everything you heard about it's true. So you ain't got any family Well, who said you needed one? Ain'tcha glad nobody's waiting up for you? When I dream on my own I'm alone, but I ain't lonely For a dreamer, night's the only time of day When the city's finally sleeping When my thoughts begin to stray And I'm on the train that bound for Santa Fe And I'm free Like the wind Like I'm gonna live forever. It's a feeling time can never take away All I need's a few more dollars And I'm outta here to stay Dreams come true Yes they do In Santa Fe Where does it say you've gotta live and die here? Where does it say a guy can't catch a break? Why should you only take what you're given? Why should you spend your whole life livin' Trapped where there ain't no future Even at seventeen Breaking your back for someone else's sake If the life don't seem to suit ya How bout a change of scene? Far from the lously headlines And the deadlines in between Santa Fe Are you there? Do you swear you won't forget me? If I found you would you let me come and stay? I ain't getting any younger And before my dying day I want space Not just air Let 'em laugh in my face, I don't care Save a place I'll be there So that's what they call a family? Ain'tcha glad you ain't that way? Ain'tcha glad you got a dream called Santa Fe?

(Jack ends up outside the Lodging House. As he enters, he meets up with Racetrack)

JACK: Heya Race.

RACETRACK: Hey Jack.

JACK: How was your day at the track?

RACETRACK: Remember that hot tip I told you about? Nobody told the horse.

(Pulitzer, Seitz and Jonathan are sitting it Pulitzer's office.)

PULITZER: I know we need to make more money. That's why we're here, to find out how to make more money.

JONATHAN: I have several proposals. First, to increase the paper's price.

PULITZER: Then Hearst outsells me and I'm in the poorhouse. Brilliant, Jonathan, brilliant.

JONATHAN: Not the customer's price. The price to the distribution apparatus.

SEITZ: Charge the newsies more for their papers? Bad idea, Chief.

JONATHAN: Very well. My next proposal, salary cuts. Particularly those at the top.

SEITZ: Very bad idea, Chief.

PULITZER: Wait. What do the newsies pay now? 50 cents for 100 papers? If you raise it to 60 cents..

JONATHAN: A mere tenth of a cent per paper.

PULITZER: Multiply by 40, 000 papers a day? 7 days a week?.

JONATHAN: It definitely adds up, sir.

SEITZ: If you do this, every newsie we've got will head straight for Hearst.

PULITZER: You don't know Hearst like I do, Seitz. As newspapermen, he and I would cut each other's throats to get an advantage. But as gentlemen, as businessmen, if also see eye to eye on certain things. Now, if we do it, Hearst and I, if we do it, then the other papers will do it.

SEITZ: It's going to be awfully tough on those children.

PULITZER: Nonsense, nonsense. It'll be good for them. Incentive, make them work harder, sell more papers. They'll look on it as an advantage.

(Outside the World building, the newsies have gathered. Jack joins them)

KID BLINK: They jacked up the price! You hear that Jack? Ten cents a hundred! You know, it's bad enough that we gotta eat what we don't sell, now they jack up the price! Can you believe that?

SKITTERY: This'll bust me, I'm barely making a living right now.

BOOT: I'll be back sleeping on the streets.

MUSH: It don't make no sense. I mean, all the money Pulitzer's making, why would he gouge us?

RACETRACK: Because he's a tight wad, that's why!

JACK: Pipe down, it's just a gag. So, why the jack up Weasel?

WEASEL: Why not? It's a nice day. Why don'tcha ask Mr. Pulitzer?

KID BLINK: They can't to this to me Jack.

RACETRACK: They can do whatever they want. It's their stinkin' paper.

BOOTS: It ain't fair. We got no rights at all.

RACETRACK: Come on, it's a rigged deck. They got all the marbles.

MUSH: Jack, we got no choice, so why don't we get our lousy papes while they still got some, huh?

JACK: No! Nobody's going anywhere. They can't get away with this!

LES: Give him some room, give him some room. Let him think.

RACETRACK: Jack, you done thinkin' yet?

WEASEL: Hey! Hey! Hey! World employees only on this side of the gate!

JACK: Well, listen. One thing for sure, if we don't sell papes, then nobody sells papes. Nobody comes through those gates until they put the price back to where it was.

DAVID: You mean like a strike?

JACK: Yeah, like a strike!

RACETRACK: Are you out of your mind?

JACK: It's a good idea!

DAVID: Jack, I was only joking. We can't go on strike, we don't have a union.

JACK: But, if we go on strike, then we are a union, right?

DAVID: No, we're just a bunch of angry kids with no money. Maybe if we got every newsie in New York, but...

JACK: Yeah, well we organize. Crutchy, you take up for collection. We get all the newsies of New York together.

DAVID: Jack, this isn't a joke. You saw what happened to those trolley workers.

JACK: Yeah, well that's another good idea. Any newsie don't join with us, then we bust their heads like the trolley workers.

DAVID: Stop and think about this Jack. You can't just rush everybody into this

JACK: Alright. Let me think about it. Listen. Dave's right. Pulitzer and Hearst and all them other rich fellas, I mean, they own this city, so do they really think a bunch of street kids like us can make any difference? The choice has got to be yours. Are we just gonna take what they give us, or are we gonna strike?

LES: Strike!

BOOTS: Keep talking Jack, tell us what to do!

JACK: Well, you tell us what to do Davey.

DAVID: Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect our rights.

JACK: Hey listen! Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect the rights of the working boys of New York! Well, that worked pretty good, so what else?

DAVID: Tell them that they can't treat us like we don't exist.

(Begin Song)

JACK: Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we're nothing. Are we nothing?

NEWSIES: No!

DAVID: If we stick together like the trolley workers then they can't break us up.

JACK: Pulitzer and Hearst, they think they got us. Do they got us?

NEWSIES: No!

DAVID: We're a union now, the Newsboys Union. We have to start acting like a union.

JACK: Even though we ain’t got hats or badges We’re a union just by saying so And the World will know!

BOOTS: What’s to start somebody else from selling our papes?

JACK: Well, what’s wrong with them?

RACETRACK: Some of them don’t hear so good!

JACK: Well then we’ll soak ‘em!

DAVID: No! We can’t beat up kids in the streets. It’ll give us a bad name.

CRUTCHY: Can’t get any worse.

JACK: What’s it gonna take to stop the wagons? Are we ready?

NEWSIES: Yeah!

DAVID: No!

JACK: What’s it gonna take to stop the scabber? Can we do it?

NEWSIES: Yeah!

JACK: We’ll do what we gotta do until we Break the will of mighty Bill and Joe!

NEWSIES: And the World will know And the Journal too! Mr. Hearst and Pulitzer Have we got news for you! Now the World will hear What we’ve got to say We’ve been hawking headlines But we’re making ‘em today. And our ranks will grow!

CRUTCHY: And we’ll kick their rear!

NEWSIES: And the World will know that we been here!

JACK: When the circulation bell starts ringing Will we hear it?

NEWSIES: No!

JACK: What if the Delancey’s come out swinging’ Will we hear it?

NEWSIES: No! When you’ve got a hundred voices singing Who can hear a lousy whistle blow? And the World will know That this ain’t no game That we got a ton of rotten fruit and perfect aim So they gave their word But it ain’t worth beans! Now they’re gonna see what ‘stop the presses’ really mean And the day has come And the time is now And the fear is gone

BOOTS: And their name is mud!

NEWSIES: And the strike is on

BOOTS: And I can't stand blood!

NEWSIES: And the World will..

JACK: Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won’t whip us!

NEWSIES: Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won’t whip us! And the World will know And the World will learn And the World will wonder how We made the tables turn And the World will see That we had to choose That the things we do today Will be tomorrow’s news And the old will fall And the young stand tall And the time is now And the winds will blow And our ranks will grow And grow and grow and so The World will feel the fire And finally know!

NEWSIES: Strike! Strike! Strike! (etc.)

JACK: We gotta get word out to all the newsies of New York. I need some of those….what’dja call ‘em?

DAVID: Ambassadors?

JACK: Yeah, right. Okay, you guys, you gotta be ambastards and go tell the other that we’re on strike.

KID BLINK: Say, Jack, I’ll take Harlem

RACETRACK: Yeah, I got Midtown.

MUSH: I got the Battery, Jack.

CRUTCHY: Hey, I’ll take the Bronx.

JACK: Alright. And Bumlets, and Specs and Skittery, you take Queens. Pie Eater! Snoddy! East Side! Snipeshooter, you go with ‘em. So, what about Brooklyn? Come on, Spot Conlon’s territory. What’sa matta? You scared of Brooklyn?

BOOTS: Hey, we ain’t scared of Brooklyn. Spot Conlon makes us a little nervous.

JACK: Well, he don’t make me nervous. So you and me, Boots, we’ll go to Brooklyn. And Dave here can keep us company.

DAVID: Sure, just as soon as you delivery our demands to Pulitzer.

JACK: Me? To Pulitzer?

DAVID: You’re the leader, Jack.

JACK: Well, maybe the kid’ll soften him up.

(Jack and Les enter the World Building. The newsies cheer)

NEWSIES: Strike! Strike! Strike! (etc.)

(The newsies go off in different directions. Denton enters and approaches David.)

DENTON: Hey, what is the strike? What’s going on?

DAVID: We’re bringing out demands to Pulitzer.

DENTON: What demands?

DAVID: The newsies demands. We’re on strike.

DENTON: I’m with the New York Sun. Bryan Denton. You seem like the kid in charge. What’s your name?

DAVID: David

DENTON: David. David as in David and Goliath? You really think old man Pulitzer’s going to listen to your demands?

DAVID: He has to. (Jack and Let thrown out the door.)

JACK: Well, so’s your old lady! You tell Pulitzer he needs an appointment with me!

LES: Yeah!

(Jack, David, Les and Denton are sitting in a booth in Tibby’s Restaurant.)

JACK: So this snooty mug says to me, ‘You can’t see Mr. Pulitzer. No one sees Mr. Pulitzer.’ Real hoity-toity, you know the type?

LES: Real hoity-toity.

JACK: So that’s when I says to him, ‘Listen, I ain’t in the habit of transacting no business with office boys. Just tell him Jack Kelly’s here to see him now!’

LES: That’s when he threw us out.

DENTON: Does he scare you? You’re going up against the most powerful man in New York City.

JACK: Oh yeah, look at me. I’m trembling.

DENTON: Alright, keep me informed. I want to know everything that’s going on.

DAVID: Are we really an important story?

DENTON: Well, what’s important? Last year I covered the war in Cuba. Charged up San Juan Hill with Col. Teddy Roosevelt. That was an important story. So, is the newsie’s strike important? That all depends on you.

JACK: So my name’s really gonna be in the papers?

DENTON: Any objections?

JACK: Not as long as you get it right. It’s Kelly, Jack Kelly. Oh, and Denton? No pictures.

DENTON: Sure Jack. (Jack, David and Boots start across the Brooklyn Bridge.)

DAVID: I’ve never been to Brooklyn, have you?

BOOTS: I spent a month there on night.

(Jack and Boots lean over the side and scream at the top of their lungs.)

DAVID: So, is this Spot Conlon really dangerous?

(The boys get to Brooklyn. There are a lot of tough looking boys.)

BROOKLYN NEWSIE: Going somewhere, Kelly?

(Jack pushes past him. David and Boots follow.)

SPOT: Well, if it ain’t Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.

JACK: I see you moved up in the world, Spot. Got a river view and everything.

(The two boys spit-shake.)

SPOT: Heya Boots. How’s it rollin’?

BOOTS: I got a couple of real good shooters.

(Spot takes the marbles and takes out his sling shot.)

SPOT: Yeah. So, Jacky-boy. I’ve been hearing things from little birds. Things from Harlem, Queens, all over. They been chirpin’ in my ear. Jacky-boy’s newsies is playing like they’re going on strike.

JACK: Yeah, well we are.

DAVID: We’re not playing. We are going on strike.

SPOT: Oh yeah? Yeah? What is this, Jacky-boy? Some kind of walking mouth?

JACK: Yeah, it’s a mouth. A mouth with a brain, and if you got half a one, you’ll listen to what he’s got to say.

DAVID: Well, we started the strike, but we can’t do it alone. So, we’re talking to newsies all around the city.

SPOT: Yeah, so they told me. But what’d they tell you?

DAVID: They’re waiting to see what Spot Conlon is doing, you’re the key. That Spot Conlon is the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York, and probably everywhere else. And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they join and we’ll be unstoppable. So you gotta join, I mean... well, you gotta!

SPOT: You’re right Jacky-boy, brains. But I got brains too, and more than just half a one. How do I know you punks won’t run the first time some goon comes at ya with a club? How do I know you got what it takes to win?

JACK: Because I’m telling you, Spot.

SPOT: That ain’t good enough Jacky-boy. You gotta show me.

(The boys go back to Newsies Square, where the rest of the newsies wait.)

RACETRACK: Jack. So, where’s Spot?

JACK: He was concerned about us being serious. You imagine that?

RACETRACK: Well, Jack, maybe we ought to ease off a little. Without Spot and the others, there ain’t enough of us, Jack.

MUSH: Maybe we’re moving too soon. Maybe we ain’t ready, you know?

SKITTERY: I definitely think we should forget about it for a little while.

JACK: Oh, do ya?

SKITTERY: Yeah.

RACETRACK: Yeah, I mean, without Brooklyn… you know?

JACK: Spot was right, is this just a game to you guys?

(Begin Song)

DAVID: Open the gates and seize the day Don’t be afraid and don’t delay Nothing can break us No one can make us Give our rights away Arise and seize the day!

DAVID AND NEWSIES: Now is the time to seize the day Send out the call and join the fray

DAVID: Wrongs will be righted if we’re united

DAVID AND NEWSIES: Let us seize the day! Friends of the friendless seize the day Raise up the torch and light the way Proud and defiant We’ll slay the giant Let us seize the day

Neighbor to neighbor Father to son One for all and all for one! Open the gates and seize the day Don’t be afraid and don’t delay Nothing can break us No one can make us Give our rights away Neighbor to neighbor Father to son! One for all and all for one!

(The circulation bell begins to ring)

JACK Anybody hear that?

NEWSIES No!

JACK: So what are we gonna do about it?

NEWSIES: Soak ‘em!

(The newsies and the scabbers have a stand off. 3 scabs join with the newsies, but then a bug scab comes up against Jack. He tries to get by, but can’t. The newsies start soaking the scabs, who eventually run away. They tear up the newspapers. Jack starts making faces and blowing raspberries at Weasel, Oscar and Morris through the distribution window.)

MORRIS: I’m gonna crack your dome!

(The tearing of newspapers continue. A delivery cart is pushed onto it’s side. Weasel calls for the cops, who enter blowing whistles.)

JACK: Cheese it! Cheese it, it’s the bulls!

(All the newsies run, except Crutchy, who doesn’t notice)

RACETRACK: Crutchy! Scram! Scram!

(Crutchy starts to leave, but is blocked in by cops. He turns to find the Delancey brothers behind him. They knock his crutch aside and drag him away. Denton has been watching all of this. THAT NIGHT- Jack and David walk to the Refuge. Jack has a rope in his hands)

JACK: So here it is. The Refuge. My home, sweet home.

DAVID: How can you be sure they sent him here?

JACK: How can I be sure the Delancey’s stink? It’s just how things work, you know? An orphan gets arrested, Snyder makes sure he gets sent straight here, so he can rehabilitate him. The more kids in the Refuge, the more money the city sends to take care of them, the more Snyder sticks it in his pocket. He’s here.

DAVID: So how come you brought the rope?

(A carriage exits the Refuge. Jack and David hind in the shadows. As the guard talks with the nuns, the two boys sneak by. On the roof, David lowers Jack, who has the rope tied around his waist. Jack gets level with the window.)

JACK: Steady. Steady, Dave. That’s good.

(Jack knocks on the window. A boy around Les’s age opens it.)

TEN PIN: Hey. Cowboy. You miss the joint?

JACK: What do ya say, Ten Pin. You got a new guy in here. Crutchy.

TEN PIN: The gimp? I’ll get him for ya.

JACK: Hey Crutchy.

(With the help of a boy, Crutchy limps to the window.)

CRUTCHY: I don’t believe it. What are you hanging around here for?

JACK: What do you mean what am I hangin’ around here for? You know who’s on the roof?

CRUTCHY: Who?

JACK: Dave.

CRUTCHY: Is that Dave? Heya Dave! How ya doin’?

DAVID:: Shhh.

JACK: Listen, Crutchy, go get your stuff. We’re gonna get you outta here.

CRUTCHY: Well, actually, I ain’t walking so good. Oscar and Morris kindda worked me over a little bit, you know?

JACK: They hurt you? Don’t worry about it. Me and Dave, we can carry you outta here.

CRUTCHY: I don’t want nobody carrying me, you hear? Hey, Dave! You know, they still talk about how Jack rode outta here on that coach.

DAVID: Oh, yeah. Teddy Roosevelt’s, right?

CRUTCHY: You already heard the story.

DAVID: You mean it’s true?

CRUTCHY: Of course. Hey! Cheese it!

(Snyder enters and inspects the room. Jack swings to the side, out of site. As Snyder is about to look out the window, Crutchy grabs his arm.)

CRUTCHY: Mr. Warden Snyder, sir. You know, I was thinking. I’d just like you to know that when you were taking a nap this afternoon…

(Crutchy leads Snyder away from the window and Jack leaves. THE NEXT MORNING- Pulitzer, Weasel and Seitz are inside Pulitzer’s office.)

SEITZ: I don’t think they’re just going to go away, Chief.

WEASEL: Mr. Pulitzer, sir, just give me the means and I’ll take care of them for ya.

PULITZER: I’ll give you whatever means you require. I want this nonsense down with once and for all.

SEITZ: Chief…

PULITZER: Shut you mouth, Seitz

(Weasel and Seitz leave. Snyder looks out the window to the square where the newsies have gathered.)

NEWSIES: Open the gates and seize the day Don’t be afraid and don’t delay Nothing can break us No one can make us Give our rights away Arise and seize the day

(The boys dance in the square and block the entrance to the World building. A delivery cart rushes through. The newsies and scabs have another stand off.)

DAVID: Alright. Everyone remain calm.

JACK: Let’s soak ‘em for Crutchy!

(The newsies charge towards the scabs, who retreat. A large door opens and big men with clubs and chains come out)

RACETRACK: Jack! Jack!, the Crib!

(the men form a circle around Jack so none of the newsies can help him. The gates shut and Denton can’t get in to help.)

OSCAR: Heya Jacky-boy (Jack faces a man with a chain. Outside, Denton tried to get in.)

DENTON: Aren’t you going to stop them, sir?

POLICEMAN: Move along, mister.

(Just as all hope seems lost for Jack, a bunch of newsies appear on the rooftops, including Spot.)

SPOT: Never fear, Brooklyn is here.

MUSH: It’s Brooklyn!

(The newsies start to soak the Crib, the Brooklyn boys using their sling shots. Racetrack throws his hands in the air and sit on a ledge….)

RACETRACK: Hey, I give up. Alright, alright. I give up.

(…then kicks the guy *you know where*)

JACK: Hey, Spot!

(Shots of Newsies punching the scabs. First Racetrack, then Jack, Kid Blink and another. Skittery get hits and falls back. Newsies catch him)

DAVID: Are you alright?

(Before he can answer, the newsies push him back up and he punches the man back. Spot opens the gates and the Brooklyn gang join. They force the Crib back. The newsies cheer and tear some more papers. Denton enters with him camera.)

DENTON: Jack! Boys! Freeze! Freeze!

JACK: Alright guys

(Denton takes the picture. Jack is the only one ready for it. The others all have weird expressions on their faces. The picture turns black and white and appears on the cover of the New York Sun under the headline ‘The Children’s Crusade; Newsies Stop the World’. NEXT DAY- The newsies are in Tibby’s. Denton enters with the paper.)

DENTON: Hey fellas. Hey, hey! Big time.

BOOTS: What you got there Jack?

SPOT: Where’s me picture? Where’s me picture?

BOOTS: What’s that? That all about us?

MUSH: Look at that Jack. You look like a gentlemen

JACK: Will you get your fingers off me face?

SPOT: Where does it say my name? Where’s my name?

JACK: Will you quit thinking about yourself?

DAVID: You got us on the front page!

DENTON: You got yourselves on the front page. I just got to make sure you stay there.

SKITTERY: So what. You get your picture in the papes, so what’s that get you, huh?

MUSH: What are you talkin’ about?

JACK: Shut up, boy. You been in a bad mood all day!

SKITTERY: I’m not in a bad mood!

RACETRACK: Glum and dumb. What’s the matta with you? You get your picture in the papes, your famous. Your famous, you get anything you want. That’s what so great about New York!

(Begin Song)

MUSH: A pair of new shoes with matching laces

RACETRACK: A permanent box at Sheepshed Races.

SPOT: A porcelain tub with boiling water

KID BLINK: A Saturday night with the mayor’s daughter!

RACETRACK: Look at me I’m the King of New York! Suddenly I’m respectable Staring right atcha Lousy with stature

JACK: Nubbin’ with all the muckety-mucks I’m blowin’ my dough and goin’ deluxe!

RACETRACK: And there I’ll be Ain’t I pretty?

RACETRACK & JACK: It’s my city I’m the king of New York!

BOOTS: A corduroy suit with fitted knickers

LES: A mezzanine seat to see the flickers

SNIPESHOOTER: Havana cigars that cost a quarter

DAVID: An editor’s desk for our star reporter!

NEWSIES: Tip your hat He’s the King of New York!

DENTON: How ‘bout that? I’m the King of New York!

NEWSIES: In nothing flat He’ll be covering Brooklyn to Trenton Our man Denton

KID BLINK: Making a headline out of a hunch

DENTON: Protecting the weak

RACETRACK: And paying for lunch

DENTON: When I’m at bat Strong men crumble

RACETRACK: Proud yet humble

DENTON & RACETRACK: I’m/He’s the King of New York

NEWSIES: I gotta be either dead or dreaming ’Cuz look at that pape with my face beaming Tomorrow they may wrap fishes in it But I was a star for one whole minute! Starting now I’m the King of New York!

DENTON: Ain’t you hear? I’m the King of New York!

NEWSIES: Holy cow! It’s a miracle Pulitzer’s crying Weasel? He’s dying! Flashpots are shooting bright as the sun I’m one hifalutin’ sonuva gun! Don’t ask me how Fortune found me Fate just crowned me Now I’m King of New York! Look and see Once a piker Now a striker I’m the Kin of New York! Victory! Front page story Guts and glory I’m the King of New York!

(The newsies cheer and gather around a table)

JACK: So, let’s have some ideas.

DAVID: Well, we gotta show people where we stand

JACK: Yeah, so we gotta stay in the papes.

DENTON: My paper’s the only one printing any strike news so far

JACK: So, we should do something that’s so big the other papers’ll feel stupid if they try to ignore us. Like a rally. A newsie rally with all the kids from all over New York. It’ll be the biggest, loudest, noisiest blow-out this town’s ever seen!

DAVID: We’ll send a message to the big boys

RACETRACK: Geesh, I’ll give ‘em a message.

(A waiter brings a tray of cokes. Each newsie grabs a glass.)

JACK: There’s a lot of us, and we ain’t going away. We’ll fight until damn Doomsday if it means we get a fair shake.

DAVID: Hey, guys. To out man Denton.

NEWSIES: Our man Denton!

(The newsies lift their glasses in a toast. IN THE REFUGE- Crutchy knocks on Snyder’s door and enters.)

CRUTCHY: Heya Mr. Snyder. How was your supper?

(As he begins to put the plates on a tray, Crutchy notices Snyder looking at the paper, particularly at Jack’s picture.)

CRUTCHY: Hey! That’s Jack. He looks just like himself.

SNYDER: You know this boy?

CRUTCHY: No.

SNYDER: You have a very famous friend, this Jack. Do you know where he lives?

CRUTCHY: I never heard of him, honest! It’s this brain of mine, it’s always making mistakes. It’s got a mind of it’s own. Can I get you anything else, Mr. Snyder? Good bye Mr. Snyder.

(Crutchy leaves, realizing his mistake. THAT NIGHT- The newsies are making signs for the rally. Dutchy’s sign says ‘STRIKE’)

DUTCHY: So, did I spell it right, Kloppman?

KLOPPMAN: Very good, very good.

(Snyder enters and starts going through Kloppman’s book)

KLOPPMAN: Excuse me. Can I help you?

SNYDER: You have a boy who calls himself Jack Kelly? I wish to see him

KLOPPMAN: Jack Kelly? Never heard of him. Never heard of him. Any of you boys ever hear of a Jack Kelly?

SPECS: That’s an unusual name for these parts.

(Jack enters, but Swifty stops him and points Snyder out to him)

RACETRACK: Oh, you mean Jack Kelly. Yeah, he was here, but he put an egg in his shoe and beat it.

SNYDER: I have reason to believe he’s an escaped prisoner, possibly dangerous.

KLOPPMAN: Oh, dangerous? I better look in my files. This way please.

(Kloppman distracts Snyder and Jack exits. The boys hold up signs to hide him)

RACETRACK: Give to the Newsies Strike fund, Mister?

(Snyder hands Racetrack a coin. THE NEXT MORNING- Sarah wakes up and looks out the window. She sees Jack on the fire escape)

SARAH: Did you sleep out there all night?

JACK: Yeah

SARAH: Why didn’t you wake us up?

JACK: Well, I didn’t want to disturb nobody. Besides, it’s like the Waldorph out here. Great view. Cool air

SARAH: Go up on the roof.

(Jack leaves so Sarah can get dressed. While he waits, he boxes with some stockings and steals a tomato off a plant. Sarah enters with a basket.)

SARAH: Are you hungry?

JACK: Yeah

SARAH: Good. I made you breakfast

(She lays down a clothe and gets the food and milk.)

SARAH: Papa’s so proud of you and David. You should hear him talking about Jack Kelly, strike leader, who occasionally takes his meal with us.

JACK: Well, this is one strike leader who’s gonna be very happy when it’s all over and I can get outta here and go to Santa Fe. I mean, there’s nothing for me to stay for, is there? You know, you should se Santa Fe, everything’s different there. It’s all bigger. The desert, the sky, the sun

SARAH: It’s the same sun as here

JACK: Yeah, it just looks different

SARAH: I should get ready for work

JACK: Sarah? I’m just not used to having whether I stay or whether I go matta to anybody. I’m not saying it should matta to you. I’m just saying, well, does it? Matta?

(Pulitzer is in his office with the Mayor, the Police Chief, Snyder and Seitz. He is looking at the paper and has Jack’s face circled.)

MAYOR: Of course, the city is very concerned that this event doesn’t get out of hand. But…Chief?

CHIEF: We can’t just charge in there and break it up, Mr. Pulitzer. We’ve got no legal cause.

MAYOR: Legal cause.

PULITZER: Would the fact that this rally is organized by an escaped criminal be cause enough, mayor?

MAYOR: Escaped criminal?

PULITZER: A fugitive from one of your prisons, mayor. A convicted thief. Been living at large for some time under the allis of Jack Kelly. What’s his real name?

SNYDER: Sullivan. Francis Sullivan. Your honor. I would have caught him before now, but..

PULITZER: You know Warder Snyder, don’t you mayor? I believe you know him because you appointed him.

MAYOR: Yes. Well, if this boy’s a fugitive then the chief can quietly arrest him.

PULITZER: No, no, no, no! Not quietly! Not quietly! I want an example made. I want this rabble he’s roused to see what happens to those who would dare to lead. They should see justice and action.

MAYOR: Arrest him at the rally?

PULITZER: By the way, mayor, a few friends for cards tonight. Newspaper friends. Billy Hearst, Gordon Bennett. Perhaps you’ll join us. Talk about the coming election.

MAYOR: I’d be honored.

(Newsies are gathering outside Irving Hall. Inside, Jack, David and Spot are on stage. Jack quiets everyone)

JACK: Carryin’ the banner!

(The newsies stand up and cheer.

MEANWHILE- In Pulitzer’s study, men are sitting at a table, playing cards. Pulitzer leads the mayor around the table)

PULITZER: You know Gordon, mayor. Mr. Bennett of the Tribune. Mr. Taylor of the Times. Of course, you know Mr. Hearst. This is a new member of our little group, Mr. Gammon. He just came back from Europe. Mr. Gammon owns the New York Sun.

(Back in the theater, Jack is giving a speech.)

JACK: So, we’ve come a long way, but we ain’t there yet and maybe it’s only gonna get tougher from now on. But that’s fine, we’ll just get tougher with it. But also, we gotta get smart and start listening to my pal David, who says ‘stop soakin’ the scabs’.

RACETRACK: What are we supposed to do to the bums? Kiss ‘em?

SPOT: Any scab I see I soak ‘em. Period.

DAVID: No, no. That’s what they want us to do. If we get violent, it’s just playing into their hands.

SPOT: Hey, look. They’re gonna be playing with my hands, alright. 'Cuz it ain’t what they say, it’s what we say. And nobody ain’t gonna listen to us unless we make ‘em.

(Newsies in the crowd take different sides and start to argue.)

JACK: You got no brains. Why we starting to fight each other? It’s just what the big shot’s wanna see. That we’re street rats! Street rats with no brain’s. No respect for nothing, including ourselves! So, here’s how it’s gonna be. If we don’t act together, then we’re nothing. If we don’t stick together, then we’re nothing. And if we can’t even trust each other, then we’re nothing.

KID BLINK: Tell ‘em Jack!

JACK: So, what’s it gonna be?

RACETRACK: We’re with you Jack.

JACK: So, what about you, Spot?

SPOT: I say that what you say is what I say.

(The spit-shake. All the newsies cheer. The curtains open and Medda enters. The cheering gets louder.)

MEDDA & NEWSIES: High times, hard times Sometimes the living is sweet And sometimes there’s nothing to eat But I always land on my feet So when there’s dry times I wait for high times and then I put on my best And I stick out my chest And I’m off to the race’s again!

MEDDA: Hello, newsies. What’s new?

(Outside, the Crib and police are gathering. Snyder enters)

MEDDA: So your old lady don’t love you no more So you’re afraid there’s a wolf at your door So you’ve got street rats that scream in your ear

MEDDA & NEWSIES: You win some, you lose some my dear, Oh… High times, hard times Sometimes the living is sweet And sometimes there’s nothing to eat But I always land on my feet So when there’s dry times I wait for high times and then I put on my best And I stick out my chest And I’m off to the races again

MEDDA: I put on my best!

NEWSIES: I put on my best!

MEDDA: And I stick out my chest

NEWSIES: And I sticks out my chest

MEDDA: And I’m off

NEWSIES: And I’m off

MEDDA: And I’m off

NEWSIES: And I’m off

MEDDA: And I’m off

ALL: To the races again!

(The police block off the entrance to the theater. Denton sees Snyder and tries to keep him busy)

DENTON: Excuse me. Aren’t you Warden Snyder? Bryan Denton of the Sun. How do you do, sir?

(David sees Snyder and tells Spot)

DENTON: I heard about your wonderful work with the children and I wondered if I might get an interview with you

(David rushes through the crowd to Jack)

DAVID: Jack! Jack! It’s Snyder!

JACK: What?

DAVID: It’s Snyder. Right there!

(Denton tries to distract Snyder one more time. This time with his camera)

DENTON: Let me get that correct. That’s Snyder, as in snide? Smile sir!

(The flash blinds him for a minute, then he blows his whistle.)

JACK: Medda, thanks. I gotta run.

(Cops come in and the newsies scatter. Jack take’s Sarah’s hand and pulls her through the crowd. Racetrack gets Medda to safety and start to leave)

MEDDA: No! Stay with me!

(A huge man kicks Racetrack in the stomach and punches him out. Medda breaks away from her maid and slaps the man)

MEDDA: No! No! For God’s sake! He’s just a child! Can’t you see that? Racetrack!

(Medda is pulled back and Racetrack is dragged away. Jack and David get Sarah and Les to safety. Then turn back to fight. Everywhere they go, they are surrounded by cops or the crib. By Medda’s swing, they meet up with Snyder. David sits on the swing.)

DAVID: Push me!

(Jack shoves David, who hits Snyder in the face.)

DAVID: Get out of here! Go!

(Jack runs as David and some other newsies hold Snyder off. Jack and Kid Blink run outside and find they are surrounded by cops. One of them grabs for Jack, but Kid Blink shoves him away.)

KID BLINK: Beat it!

(Jack runs back inside. Kid Blink gets hit with a club and is dragged away. Jack starts to run up the stairs, but a man meets him at the top and punches him in the chin. Jack falls back and is caught by cops. THE NEXT DAY- the newsies are in court.)

BAILIFF: All rise. All rise. Court is now in session. Judge E.A. Monahan presiding. MONAHAN: Are any of you boys represented by council? No? Good, that will move things along considerably.

SPOT: Hey, yer honor, I object!

MONAHAN: On what grounds?

SPOT: On the grounds of Brooklyn, yer honor.

(The newsies crack up laughing. Monahan bangs on his desk.)

MONAHAN: I fine each of you five dollars, or two weeks confinement in the House of Refuge.

RACETRACK: Whoa. We ain’t got five bucks. We don’t even got five cents. Hey, yer honor, how ‘bout I roll you for it. Double or nothing?

MONAHAN: Alright. Move along, move along.

(Denton, David and Les enter)

DENTON: Your honor, I’ll pay the fines. All of them.

DAVID: Hey, you fellas alright? Where’s Jack?

DENTON: Look, we’ve got to meet at the restaurant. Everybody. We have to talk.

MONAHAN: Pay the clerk. Move it along.

(Jack is lead in, handcuffed)

JACK: Hey fellas!

RACETRACK: Hey, Cowboy! Nice shiner!

JACK: Hey, Denton. I guess we made all the papes this time. So, how’s my picture look?

DENTON: None of the papers covered the rally. Not even the Sun.

BAILIFF: Case of Jack Kelly. Inciting a riot. Assault. Resisting arrest.

SNYDER: Judge Monahan, I’ll speak for this young man.

JACK: You two know each other. Ain’t that nice.

MONAHAN: Just move it along, Warden Snyder.

SNYDER: This boy’s real name is Francis Sullivan. His mother’s deceased. His father’s a convict in the state penitentiary. He’s an escapee from the House of Refuge where his original sentence for three months was extended to six moths for disruptive behavior.

JACK: Like demanding we eat the food you steal from us.

SNYDER: Followed by an additional six months for attempted escape.

JACK: Attempted? Last time it wasn’t an attempted escape. Remember Snyder? Remember me and Teddy Roosevelt? Remember Roosevelt and the carriage?

SNYDER: Therefore, I ask that he be returned to the House of Refuge.

JACK: What? For my own good, right? Move it along? For my own good and for what he kicks back to you!

SNYDER: I ask that the court order his incarceration until the age of twenty-one, in the hope that we may yet guide him to a useful and productive life.

MONAHAN: So ordered.

LES: No!

(Jack is led away. Snyder follows, then turns and smiles at the judge. LATER- The newsies sit in Tibby’s. Denton enters. They greet him)

DAVID: Why didn’t the Sun print the story?

DENTON: Because it never happened

RACETRACK: What do you mean it never happened? You were there!

KID BLINK: You wrote it!

DENTON: It’s not in the papers, it never happened. The owners decreed it not be in the papers, therefore… I came to tell you fellas good bye.

DAVID: What happened? Did you get fired or something?

DENTON: No, I got reassigned back to my old job as the Sun’s ace war correspondent. They want me to leave right away. The owner thinks I should only cover the really important stories. Wish me luck fellas. At least half of what I wish for you. They don’t always fire. I would be black balled from every paper in the country. I’m a newspaper man. I have to have a paper to write for. This is the story I wrote about the rally. I want you to read it at least. This should cover it

(Denton pays the waiter and leaves. David crumples the story up and throws it on a table)

DAVID: We get Jack out of the Refuge tonight. From now on, we trust no one but the newsies.

(The newsies get up and leave. Les uses Denton’s article to wrap his unfinished hot dog in. THAT NIGHT- David, Les, Mush, Kid Blink, Racetrack and Boots sneak into the Refuge’s gates. Kid Blink had a rope.)

DAVID: That’s the window where we saw Crutchy

(They are about to move when they see Snyder leading Jack into a carriage.)

LES: It’s Jack!

MUSH: Where they takin’ him Dave?

DAVID: Only one way to find out. I’ll meet you guys at the square. Racetrack, watch him.

(David hides in the back of the carriage, which goes to Pulitzer’s house. Seitz is waiting outside for them.)

SEITZ: Get him inside

(Snyder takes Jack’s arm and leads him in. David pulls out the pin that attaches the horses to the carriage. INSIDE- Seitz leaves Jack in Pulitzer’s study. Pulitzer enters.)

PULITZER: Sit. Know what I was doing at your age, boy? I was in a war. The Civil War.

JACK: Yeah, I heard of it. So, didja win?

PULITZER: People think war is about right or wrong and not power.

JACK: Yeah, I heard of that too. I don’t just sell your papes, Joe. Sometime I read ‘em.

PULITZER: Power of the press is the greatest power of them all. I tell this city how to think. I tell this city how to vote. I shape it’s future.

JACK: Yeah? Well, right now I’m only thinking about one future, and that’s mine.

PULITZER: So am I boy. I have the power to see you stay locked in the Refuge

JACK: And I have the power to break out again.

PULITZER: Or, I can see you released tomorrow, free and clear, with more money in your pockets than you can earn in three lifetimes.

JACK: Are you bribin’ me, Joe?

PULITZER: No

JACK: Well, it’s been real nice chattin’ with ya, Joe. But I got to be goin’ now.

PULITZER: You listen to me, boy. You just shut your mouth and listen to me! You shut up and listen to me for once! No game I’m playing. You work for me til the strike’s over, and it will end, boy, make no mistake, with or without you. Then you go where ever you want to buy a ticket for. Away from the Refuge, these foul streets. Free. With money to spend and nobody chasing you.

JACK: We must have you scared pretty bad, old man

PULITZER: I offer you freedom and money just to work for me again. To your friends, I won’t be so kind. Now, you’re partner, what’s his name? David. I understand he has a family. What do you think the Refuge will do to him? And it will be you who put him there. And all the others, after all, you’re their leader. Go back to the Refuge tonight, think about it. Give me your answer in the morning.

(Jack leaves. As he is being taken outside, Snyder lets go of him for one second)

DAVID: Jack! Come on! Come on!

(Jack slides down the railing and jumps over it. He and David take off)

SNYDER: After him!

(The driver whips the horses, who take off without the carriage.)

SEITZ: Don’t worry. He’s got no place to go

(David and Jack run into an alley. Jack slows down)

DAVID: Come on! Keep running!

JACK: You shouldn’t have done this, Dave. They could put you in jail

DAVID: I don’t care

JACK: Come here. What about your family? What happened to them if you go in jail. You don’t know nothing about jail. Now, thanks for what you done, but you get out of here

DAVID: I don’t understand

JACK: I don’t understand either, but just get outta here!

DAVID: No!

JACK: Go!

(David turns slowly and walks away. Jack leans against a wall. Suddenly, he’s leaning against a wall in the Refuge.)

JACK: Santa Fe My old friend I can’t spend my whole life hidin’ You’re the only light that’s guidin’ me today

(Crutchy opens a little slot in the door. He has a potato)

CRUTCHY: Psst! Jack! Look! I snitched it off Snyder’s plate while I was serving him. It’s the biggest one. Oh, Mr. Snyder was eating good tonight. You know the stuff that we don’t ever get? He got potatoes, olives, liver, bacon, sauerkraut. And guess what I done to his sauerkraut, huh?

JACK: So, what’d it get ya?

CRUTCHY: Oh, anudder three months, probably, but you can’t let ‘em get you, right Jack? That’s what you always said...

JACK: We was beat when we was born

(Crutchy frowns and closes the slot)

JACK: Will you keep a candle burnin’ Will you help me find my way? You’re my chance to break free And who knows when my next one will be Santa Fe, Wait for me

(The newsies are picketing outside the World building.)

NEWSIES: Stop the World! No more papes! Stop the World! No more papes! (etc.)

(The police form a barricade. Some of the newsies start to fight amongst themselves.)

DAVID: Race! Help me! I need some help!

RACETRACK: Alright! I ain’t deaf!

SPOT: Hey, hey, hey! Break it up. Hey, Race, come here.

(Weasel leads Jack out. He’s in a new suit)

RACETRACK: What?

SPOT: Just tell me I’m seeing things. Just tell me I’m seeing things.

RACETRACK: No, you ain’t seeing things. That’s Jack. What’s he doing?

SPOT: He’s dressed like a scabber!

MUSH: Jack? Jack, look at me, will ya? Come on, it’s me, Mush. Look at me. What are you doin’, Jack?

KID BLINK: This ain’t happening. This can’t be happening. What are you doin’ Jack? Come on, what are you doin’?

BOOTS: Come on. What is this? Where’d you get them clothes?

WEASEL: Mr. Pulitzer picked them out himself. A special gift to a special new employee.

SPOT: He sold us out!

RACETRACK: I’ll give you a new suit! You bum! I’ll soak ya!

SPOT: Hey, hey, hey! Let me get my hands dirty. Come here you dirty rotten scabber! Traitor!

(Some newsies pull Spot away. David stares at Jack)

WEASEL: Aww. You wanna talk to him? Come on, come on. Sure. Got right ahead.

(David walks up to Jack)

DAVID: So, this is why you didn’t escape last night. You’re a liar! You lied about everything. You lied about your father being out west, ‘cause he’s not out west! You didn’t even tell me your real name!

JACK: So? What you wanna do about it Dave?

DAVID: I don’t understand you.

JACK: Oh, so let me spell it out for ya. You see, I ain’t got nobody tucking me in at night, like you. It’s just me, I gotta look out for myself.

DAVID: You had the newsies..

JACK: Oh, what’d being a newsies ever give me but a dime a day and a few black eyes? You know, I can’t afford to be a kid no more, Dave. For the first time in my life, I got money in my pockets. Real money. Money, you understand? I got more on the way and as soon as I collect, I’m gone, I’m away. Alright?

DAVID: Well, that’s good. That’s good because we don’t need you! We don’t need you! All those words you said, those were mine.

JACK: Yeah, but you never had the guts to put them across yourself, didja?

DAVID: I do now

(Dave starts to go back to the newsies, then turns to look at Jack again.)

JACK: What’sa matta? Got a problem?

(David rushes towards Jack, but Weasel and a few policemen pull him away.)

WEASEL: Maybe you’d like a new suit of your own, huh?

DAVID: Never! Never!

WEASEL: Get outta here! Get outta here!

DAVID: I’m not like you!

(The cops surround Jack so the newsies can’t get him. The newsies watch him go.)

SPOT: Traitor!

KID BLINK: You make me sick!

BOOTS: I trusted you!

RACETRACK: Seize the day, huh Jack?

LES: He’s foolin’ ‘em, so he can spy on ‘em or something. Yeah, yeah, that’s it. He’s foolin’ ‘em!

RACETRACK: Yeah, he’s spying on then, kid.

(Sarah is going through a pile of lace. She finds Les’s old hot dog)

SARAH: Les. What is this?

LES: Savin’ it

(He takes the hot dog and leaves the article in Sarah’s hands. She looks at it.)

SARAH: David. It’s Denton’s article. ‘The Dark Truth; Why Our City Really Fears The Newsies Strike’ by Bryan Denton. ‘Last night I saw naked force exercised against mere boys, the newsies, who were…’

(David climes out the window, slams it, then storms off the fire escape. THAT NIGHT-Weasel leads Jack to his new bedroom, the basement of the World building.)

WEASEL: One trick, Cowboy, and it’s right back to the Refuge. Please.

(He throws a dust covered sheet to Jack.)

WEASEL: Ah. You gonna be requiring anything this evening? Huh? No? Aww..tick tick. Well then, I ought to be saying good night. Remember, on trick and I go straight to Mr. Pulitzer.

(He exits, leaving Jack alone. MORNING- Jack goes to collect his papers. Oscar and Morris come up behind him.)

WEASEL: Sleep well Cowboy?

OSCAR: Come with us Cowboy. We’re gonna go fix you’re pal, Davey. Fix him so he can’t walk.

MORRIS: Shut up

(Jack starts to go after them.)

WEASEL: Ah! Lift one finger and it’s right back to the Refuge. Next!

(Jack picks up his papers and leaves. LATER THAT MORNING- Sarah is walking to work with Les. She has a basket full of lace.)

SARAH: Morning LADY: Good mornin’, dear.

(Oscar ‘bumps’ into her)

OSCAR: ’Cuse me, Sweetface.

(She continues to walk with Oscar behind her. Morris steps out in front of her.)

MORRIS: Where’s your little brother, Tootsie? Where’s little Davey?

(Sarah tries to get by, but the brothers push her around.)

LES: Leave my sister alone!

(He shoves Oscar. Morris holds onto Sarah while Oscar pushed Les into a puddle.)

SARAH: Stop it! Leave him alone!

(Oscar shoves Les into a pile of baskets. Sarah shoves Morris away.)

SARAH: You stupid ape.

(She punches him, but it doesn’t hurt him. She runs into the alley. The brothers catch her. David sees Les and helps him up.)

DAVID: What’s the matter? Are you alright?

LES: I’m alright, I’m alright. Help Sarah!

SARAH: Run Davey!

OSCAR: Yeah, run Davey. We got the best part of your family right here.

(David tackles Oscar.)

SARAH: Let go of me!

(Morris throws her to the ground. Oscar punches David)

SARAH: Stop it! Les! Stop, you’re hurting him! No!

(Morris pulls out a pair of brass knuckles and puts them on.)

SARAH: Leave him alone!

(Oscar continues to punch David. Les runs to Sarah. Jack is walking down the street near the alley.)

SARAH: Stop it! Leave him alone!

(Jack hears her cries and runs, dropping his papers as he goes. Oscar holds David as Morris gets ready to hit him with the knuckles. Jack comes up behind Morris and punches him. David gives Oscar an elbow in the stomach. Jack throws Morris into a box)

JACK: Get over here.

(Jack grabs Oscar)

JACK: Remember Crutchy?

(Jack head-butts him and he falls near Morris. Jack goes to help Sarah up)

JACK: You alright?

SARAH: Yeah.

(The hug briefly)

SARAH: David!

(Jack goes to David and checks him out before helping him up. Oscar and Morris finally get up.)

MORRIS: You’d better run, Cowboy. We’re gonna tell uncle Weas. You’ll be back in the Refuge before suppertime!

OSCAR: Run, you lousy coward, run!

(Jack starts to go after them, but Sarah stops him. Les runs to the end of the alley.)

LES: Go one! Get outta here! Don’t come back! You hear me?

DAVID: What? You couldn’t stay away?

JACK: Well, I guess I can’t be something I ain’t.

DAVID: A scab?

JACK: No, smart.

(The four of them go to Denton’s apartment. Jack knocks on the door. Denton opens it.)

JACK: Did you mean what you wrote here? ‘Bout all these sweat shop kids listening to me?

DENTON: I don’t write anything I don’t mean. Come on in. I’m just packing a few things.

(They enter. David closes the door.)

DENTON: So, yes, I mean it. The city thrives on child labour. A lot of people make money that way. They’re terrified that the newsies strike will spread.

JACK: Well, there’ really not much chance of that as long as they got the power

DENTON: Sometimes, all it takes is a voice, one voice. Then a thousand. Unless it’s silenced.

JACK: Why can’t we spread the strike? Have another big rally and get the word out to all the sweat shop kids? Why not?

DAVID: What are we going to do? Print an ad in the newspaper?

JACK: No! We’ll do better than that. We’ll make our own paper. We tell ‘em they gotta join us. Isn’t that a good idea?

DAVID: Yeah, it is. But what do we know about printing a newspaper?

JACK: Nothing, but our man Denton…

DAVID: Yeah, but our man Denton has something more important to do. He’s going to be an ace war correspondent, right Denton?

DENTON: Alright. Where do we start?

(They sit at a table)

JACK: Alright, we gotta move fast. Now, we’ll need the newsies to circulate.

DENTON: There’s something else that we need. We need a printing press.

JACK: Just so happens I know a guy with a printing press.

(Jack, Sarah, David and Denton enter the basement of the World building.)

SARAH: You’ve been living here?

JACK: Shh. They’re right above us. Weasel catches us here, we’re all in the slammer.

(Jack uncovers a press)

DENTON: Alright! A Platen press. Looks like old man Pulitzer never threw anything away.

DAVID: Is it going to work?

DENTON: It better. We have a deadline.

(They start printing their papers.)

DENTON: This is the story you wanted to write, well tonight is the night that you can

JACK: Just get this done and by dawn’t early light you can finish the fight you began

DAVID: This time we’re in it to stay

SARAH: Think about seizing the day

JACK: Think of that train as she rolls into old Santa Fe Tell her I’m on my way

NEWSIES: See old man Pulitzer snug in his bed He don’t care if we’re dead or alive Three satin pillows are under his head While we’re begging for bread to survive Joe, if you’re still counting sheep Wake up and read ‘em and weep You’ve got your thugs With their sticks and their slugs Yeah, but we got a promise to keep Once and for all Something tells me the tide will be turning Once and for all There’s a fire inside me that wont stop burning Now that the choices are clear Now that tomorrow is here Watch how the mighty will fall For once and for all!

(Jack hands bundles of papers to the newsies. Denton and Jack crawl out the window.)

DENTON: It’s awfully nice of Mr. Pulitzer to let us use his press

JACK: Yeah, I just hope I get to thank him for it someday.

(The newsies spread out and hand the papers to various work kids.)

NEWSIES: This is for kids shining shoes on the streets With no shoes on their feet everyday This is for guys sweating blood in the shops While their bosses and cops look away This is to even the score We ain’t just newsies no more This ain’t just kids with some pie in the sky This is do it or die This is war! Once and for all We’ll be there to defend one another Once and for all Every kid is a friend Every friend a brother Five thousand fists in the sky Five thousand reasons to try We’re going over the wall Better to die than to crawl Either we stand or we fall For once Once and for all!

(Denton is with Teddy Roosevelt, who has just read the Newsies Banner)

ROOSEVELT: Disgraceful, Denty. Those poor boys.

DENTON: I thought you’d feel this way, Governor.

ROOSEVELT: And I did nothing, until now

DENTON: Good.

(They shake hands and Roosevelt is handed his hat and walking stick. LATER THAT DAY- The newsies have gathered around the Horace Greeley statue None of the work kids have showed up.)

MUSH: So, when's the others coming, kid?

JACK: They ain’t coming. Ain’t gonna be nobody but us.

SNITCH: Come on, Jack.

SPECS: Have hope, Jack.

(Les walks away from the group.)

LES: When the circulation bell starts ringing, will we hear it?

RACETRACK: Nah. What if the Delancey’s come out swinging, will we hear it?

LES: No!

RACETRACK: That a boy!

WORK KIDS: When you’ve got a million voices singing Who can hear a lousy whistle blow? And the World will know!

(Work kids come in from all directions. The newsies cheer. Spot enters, leading in all of the Brooklyn kids.)

SPOT: Brooklyn!

NEWSIES & WORK KIDS: The World will feel the fire and finally know!

(Everyone cheers. The newsies and Sarah make their way threw the crowd.)

WORK KIDS: Strike! Strike! Strike! (etc.)

(The newsies make their way to the front of the World Building.)

RACETRACK: Dear me. What have we here?

(Seitz and a group of policemen are by the entrance, looking out into the crowd. INSIDE- Pulitzer is at his desk. Seitz brings in Jack and David. Jonathan grabs his arm and whispers.)

JONATHAN: It’s awful. Everyone’s calling. Mr. Hearst, and Mr. Bennett, and the mayor in such awful language. The city’s at a stand still and they all blame the chief. It’s like the end of the World, only I didn’t say that.

(Jack and David go to Pulitzer’s desk, where Jack pulls out a copy of the newspaper.)

JACK: Extry, extry, Joe. Read all about it.

PULITZER: I promised that if you defied me, I’d break you. I’ll keep that promise, boy. Now, I gave you a chance to be free. I don’t understand. Anyone who doesn’t act in their own self interest is a fool.

DAVID: Then what does that make you?

PULITZER: What?

JACK: Oh, this is my pal, Davey. The Walkin’ mouth

DAVID: You talk about self interest, but since the strike, your circulation’s been down 70%. Everyday you’re losing thousands of dollars just to beat us out of one lousy tenth of a cent. Why?

JACK: You see, it ain’t about the money, Dave. It Joe gives in to nobodies like us, it means we got the power. And he can’t do that, no matter what it costs. Am I right, Joe?

PULITZER: I sent for the police. They must be here by now. Send them in, Seitz

JACK: I’m not going back to jail, Joe. Look out here. Right out here is where the power is.

(Jack opens the window. All the kids are still yelling Pulitzer covers his ears)

PULITZER: Close the window! Close the window! Go home! Go home! Go home!

JACK: I can’t hear you , Joe!

PULITZER: Go home! Go home to your mothers and fathers! Go home!

JACK: I don’t hear ya!

PULITZER: Now you listen to me!

JACK: Maybe you should listen!

PULITZER: No, no! You listen to me!

JACK: No! You listen!

PULITZER: Close the window and shut up!

JACK: There’s a lot of people out there and they ain’t just gonna go away. They got voices now and they’re goin’ be listen to. Putting them in jail is not going to stop them! That’s the power of the press, Joe.

(He closes the window. Pulitzer takes his hands away from his ears)

JACK: So thanks for teaching me about it.

SEITZ: Those kids put out a pretty good paper there Chief.

(Pulitzer picks up the paper and reads it.)

PULITZER: I ordered a printing ban on all strike matters. Now, who defied me? Who’s press did you use to print this on? Who’s?

JACK: Well, we only use the best, Joe. So, I just want to say, thanks again.

(Outside, Seitz’s opens the gates. David starts to come out, Jack is behind him.)

SPOT: Hey, fellas, they’re over here!

(The newsies gather around and start asking questions. Jack bends over and whispers in Les’s ear.)

JACK: The strike’s over. We beat ‘em.

(Jack lifts Les onto his shoulders and look out towards all the children.)

JACK: We beat ‘em!

(The crowd cheers. All the newsies hug and pat each other on the back Weasel, Oscar and Morris put on their hats and leave. A paddy wagon pulls up. Snyder is sitting in the front seat with two cops.)

LES: Jack! Jack, it’s the bulls. It’s the bulls. Let me down!

SWIFTY: Down Jack. Get down!

KID BLINK: Hide Jack

DENTON: Jack, it’s over. No, no. You don’t have to run. Not anymore. Not from the likes of him. Come on, Come on.

(A cop opens the paddy wagon and the kids from the Refuge come out. The last one is Crutchy. A cop leads Snyder into the paddy wagon. Crutchy taps him on the back.)

CRUTCHY: Ah, remember what I told ya, Mr. Snyder. The first thing ya do in jail, make friends with the rats. Share what you got in common.

(Snyder climes in. A police officer is about to close the door.)

CRUTCHY: Officer, may I please?

POLICE OFFICER: Sure kid.

(Crutchy hands his crutch to a kid. He slams the door and locks it. He gets his crutch back and goes over to Jack and the others.)

JACK: Heya Crutchy.

DENTON: You won’t be seeing much of him anymore. Say goodbye Warden.

NEWSIES: Goodbye Warden!

(The paddy wagon pulls away)

CRUTCHY: Oh, Jack, you ought tah seen it! He comes stormin’ into the Refuge waving his walking stick like a sword and he’s leading in this army of lawyers and cops.

JACK: Who comes stormin’ in?

CRUTCHY: You know, your friend. Him! Teddy Roosevelt

(the newsies are amazed)

DENTON: The Governor’s very grateful that you brought this problem to his attention. I said you might need a lift somewhere. He’d be happy to oblige. Anywhere you want. And this time, you ride inside.

JACK: So, can he drop me at the train-yards?

DENTON: Yeah, if that’s what you want.

(They make their way to Roosevelt’s carriage. Jack shakes his hand and climes in. Boots throws Jack a bag. David, Les and Sarah watch sadly. The work kids follow the carriage as it leaves, leaving the newsies alone. The circulation bell begins to ring.)

MUSH: Try Bottle Alley or the harbor

RACETRACK: Try Central Park, it’s guaranteed

CRUTCHY: Try any banker, bum or barber

KID BLINK: They almost all knows how tah read

BOOTS: Summer stinks

SKITTERY: And winter’s waiting

SPECS, BUMLETS & SNIPESHOOTER: Welcome to New York

SNODDY, PIE EATER, SWIFTY, ITEY & JAKE: Boy ain’t nature fascinating

NEWSIES: When youse gotta walk

(The newsies line up for their papers. David is first in line. He slaps down a coin.)

DAVID: Hundred papes.

MUSH: Alright Davey.

(The newsies hear cheers and turn to see the carriage returning. All the work kids are following.)

MUSH: Dave, he’s back!

JACK: Thanks for the advice, Governor. Like you said, I still got things to do. Besides, I got family here.

(He gets out of the carriage and gives Les his cowboy hat. All the newsies yell and talk at the same time.)

JACK: So, how’s the headline today?

DAVID: Headlines don’t sell papes, newsies sell papes.

JACK: Come here, Davey.

(Jack holds out his hand. David spits in his and shakes it. Sarah makes her way through the crowd. Her and Jack kiss. All the newsies cheer and yell. The carriage pulls away, with Roosevelt and Spot in it. Spot tips his hat and waves as he leaves.)

SARAH: Bye Spot!

JACK: Go back to Brooklyn ya hear!

(David, Jack, Sarah, Les and Crutchy follow the carriage. Denton shakes David’s hand, then goes to the side and starts writing. The newsies, with their papers, dance as they leave.)

GROUP 1: It’s a fine life Carryin’ the banner It’s a fine life Carryin’ the banner It’s a fine life Carryin’ the banner It’s a fine life Carryin’the banner

GROUP 2: You got ‘em, Cowboy You showed ‘em how boy! You got ‘em Cowboy You showed ‘em how boy!

#Long post

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ancientwastedlores · 4 years ago

Text

The Support System (Ch: 6)

SUMMARY: The Avengers have managed to collect all the infinity stones across the universe, and are currently keeping them in far corners of the world, only for research and to see if they can improve the planet and its people. Reader is a researcher with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, as well as a field agent. Loki is currently serving time for his actions in New York City in 2012.

A/N: Find this chapter on AO3 here. This chapter is mostly soft Loki and some badass Y/N.

AO3: The Support System Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Warnings: N/A Audience: general.

______________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 6:

It’s very obvious to the rest of the Avengers that Loki only started watching Doctor Who with you so he’d get to spend the night in your bed. You know it too, but understand that he would spend it in anybody else’s room but his, because being alone at night haunts him. If someone else wanted to something about it, they would, and if they don’t, they don’t get to give their opinion about it.

And they know you aren’t about to listen either, so they keep shut.

The rest of the week passes like usual, with Loki sleeping in your bed and Tony playing concerned father and quippy teen at the same time. Then arrives the morning when you have to leave.

You wake up and don’t find Loki next to you as usual. You take advantage of the space and stretch, moaning loudly. You feel like you’ve cracked every single joint in your body, and sit up. You keep sitting, making a mental list of the things you need to prepare before leaving.

The dealers were expected at the secret venue at 7 in the evening, but Tony, being Tony, insisted the team get there a full 12 hours earlier. Natasha rolled her eyes and tried to convince Tony that two hours would be enough, but he wouldn’t budge.

The cars would leave at 6 AM. You look at clock and see you have a full hour before leaving.

The door opens, and Loki enters with a tray.

‘What! Aww, Loki’ you laugh. ‘I thought you could use a breakfast in bed before heading out’ he grins as he walks to your bed, ‘I made it myself’ he exclaims proudly, placing the tray on your lap.

Well, there was no doubt about that. It was a plate full of fruits, a bowl of cornflakes, and some toasted bread. You were looking forward to digging into some pancakes and bacon before heading out to a gruelling mission, but the excitement in his eyes makes you abandon the thought completely.

You smile and ask him to sit and share the food. He obliges.

‘So you’re coming round to the idea of me going’ you tease. ‘What’s the matter, find another Doctor Who fan?’

He looks severely offended and you immediately regret saying it. ‘I was only joking. Thank you for doing this, it’s lovely’.

His expression softens, and then he reaches into his pocket.

‘I know you’ll be fine, but I did take the liberty of an extra precaution’ he produces a small rectangular object, no larger than a fingernail. It’s silver, and has odd markings on it that glow green, and attached to a chain.

You start to protest because amulets are absolutely the kind of thing you’re against, when he clutches your arm. ‘Please’ he pleads. ‘It makes no difference to you, since you don’t believe in it, but for my peace of mind?’

‘Loki, if I wear that, and something does happen, you’ll blame yourself for the amulet not working properly’. ‘No, I promise, quite the opposite…’ he unclasps the chain, ‘I’ll know I did everything I could, and you died because you did something stupid’.

You laugh. ‘Fair enough. You promise you won’t start beating yourself up?’

‘I swear on my honour’ he says, putting the chain around your neck. You tuck the amulet under your shirt, knowing if Natasha and Clint ever saw it, they would never let you live it down. You talk for a while longer while finishing up your breakfast, and then Loki leaves so you can change.

‘Good luck, kiddo’ Tony slaps your arm. ‘Give ‘em hell’. ‘Thank you’ you give Tony a small salute before getting into the car with Maria Hill, Clint, Natasha, and Sam Wilson.

T-3 hours to the expected time of arrival of the dealers. You’re leading a group of ten agents, and everyone is already in position. You’re sitting, leaning against the wall with your group, circling a finger over your bullet proof vest which hides the amulet Loki gave you.

Ridiculous, you think. But nice. You smile.

‘What is it?’ an agent asks, seeing your smile. ‘What? Nothing. Shush’ you say.

Natasha’s voice comes on the earpiece: ‘If anyone tells Tony this, they’re fired, but the convoy is here’.

You smile, knowing Tony would gloat for ages if anyone told him the convoy reached earlier than expected.

‘Alright gang, up up’ you stand up, and help a few up since they’re carrying heavy guns. ‘Look sharp, and if you find something weird, for god’s sake, don’t touch it. We got Thor for that’.

You put your helmet on and take a deep breath, waiting for instructions.

You hear the dealers come in, boxes being dragged across the floor, clicks of guns and clanging of metals.

‘Where’s the Vibranium?’ a voice comes. Someone mumbles something in another language.

‘He’s saying there’s another truck coming’ Natasha’s voice comes. ‘Nobody move until every single one of them is in the room and the door is shut’.

You nod at the rest of your team to ask if they understand. They nod back.

You return your eyes to the group that has just entered. You look up, just to scope the room, and spot a figure move.

‘Yo’ you whisper as low as you can, ‘did anyone see that?’ ‘What the hell is that’ Clint’s voice comes over the ear piece. ‘Oh, if that is who I think it is…’ Sam’s voice comes. ‘Ssshh’ you hiss. ‘Wait’. ‘Did you just shush me, don’t ever…’ ‘Ssshhh!!' you, Clint, and Nat say in unison.

It’s a grave situation, but you can’t stop yourself smiling before returning your attention to the back of the room. The tall figure is still moving, shooting something that makes no noise.

‘For god’s sake’ you hear Sam’s disgusted voice. ‘It’s the spider kid’.

You inwardly groan. You thought Tony would have told him to stay away.

‘Tell me he isn’t our responsibility, please’ Sam says. ‘If you want to die at Tony’s hands, sure’ you say. ‘Stark put a comms system in his suit, someone tell Stark to get him out’. ‘We aren’t carrying cell phones. And we don’t know how he got in in the first place’ Nat says. ‘Let it just play out’.

You sigh.

You wait a while longer, and the ‘other’ truck arrives. After all the contents are loaded in the room, there’s a spat about payment, and then the truck guys clear off. The one you assume is the leader shuts the doors and walks over to one of the crates with a crowbar.

‘Hold it…’ Nat says.

You stretch an arm out to inform your team to stay as well.

You quickly glance back up, the figure is no longer on the roof. You dread that he’ll announce his presence at the wrong time.

And he does.

‘Anything here for me?’ you hear Peter shout. The dealers all cock their guns and turn around to point it at him. ‘NOW’ Nat shouts over the comms.

You put your arm down and your team moves out, guns pointed at the dealers. From the right, Clint’s team enters. From the left, Natasha’s. Thor is on the balcony-like structure upstairs, looking over the whole congregation. Maria and Sam come from the North side. You have them surrounded.

‘Whoa, no way, you guys came!’ Peter exclaims. ‘Get outta here, kid’ you yell. ‘No way, let me help, I can help’.

You roll your eyes.

‘Ay, what the hell is going on’ one of the men say. ‘Put your weapons down’ Nat shouts. ‘Turn over everything you have’. ‘Yeah, that’s not happening’ the man laughs, removing a cylindrical object and throwing it on the ground, creating a force field around his own group, also trapping Peter.

You look up at Thor. He’s already swinging his hammer and aiming it at the force field; it hits its mark and the shield breaks so your team can move in.

A fight ensues, with you managing to dodge most of the attacks, while also grabbing onto some of the new tech the dealers have left lying around to use it.

‘This is so cool!’ Peter yells, swinging from wall to wall, pinning dealers to the walls with his webs. Okay, maybe he is helping a little.

You manage to get every single one of them, either knocked out or pinned to the wall. Sam celebrates by slyly putting some of the new guns in his holster. You laugh and yell that you can see him, and he yells back ‘You see NOTHING’.

Peter is just gushing over what just happened. ‘I didn’t know you guys were coming, this is so cool, I’ve always wanted to be part of a strike team!’ ‘Peter…’ you start. ‘And, and look at this gear, wow can I try that gun, I swear I’ll be careful…’

You take off your helmet. ‘PETER’.

‘Oh’

He sees your face. ‘Oh h-hey I didn’t know it was you, hi’.

You sigh, remembering his crush on you. ‘You’re in way over your head’. ‘Mr. Stark says the same thing, you know, I’m much more capable…’ ‘Thank you for your help’ you say sternly. ‘I’ll inform Mr. Stark you did a great job today. But you have to go now’.

His eyes twinkle. ‘You’ll tell him I did good? Will you tell me what he says? Do you have my number? You can just text me what he says…’

‘Peter, honey, Tony has your number’. ‘RIGHT. Yes, he does. Okay. Bye!’ he shoots a web to the ceiling and goes out of the broken skylight you hadn’t noticed before.

Everyone else is putting weapons back in crates, while the Avengers are talking at the middle of the room. You walk over to them. ‘Hey’.

‘How’d you get him to leave’ Sam asks. ‘I just said he did good’ you shrug. ‘We’re sure these guys haven’t made any calls?’

Clint holds up a little device. ‘Blocks out any outgoing and incoming calls within a 2km radius’ he grins.

Stark’s trucks arrive and the men get out to help load the crates in. Natasha and Hill oversee the operation, while Sam and Thor are in some conversation, and Clint helps you aid the wounded S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

While you bandage a woman’s arm, Clint walks over to borrow a pair of scissors. You hand it to him, and kneels down next to you.

‘Blink twice if you need help’ he says. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘You and Loki’. You sigh, frustrated. ‘We’re friends’. ‘I’ve been under his control. It’s easy to not understand the difference’. ‘Clint, he doesn’t have any way of controlling me, okay?’ ‘You just look badly beat up’.

You finish bandaging the woman and she thanks you. You smile at her and stand up. ‘I appreciate your concern, I really do. And thank you for asking. But there really is nothing to worry about. I decided to give him a chance, and I think all of you should too’ you pat him on the back and walk towards where the trucks are.

‘Hey, the last of the crates are loaded, I’m just calling Stark’ Hill informs you. You nod and she leaves, her phone in hand. ‘Off to Dubai, then. It’s a long ass flight’ Nat says. ‘When are we leaving? I hope we land at night, it’s beautiful’ you say, remembering your time there ‘I think we can manage that’ she grins.

After the driver calls something out to her in Russian, she responds and hits the side of the truck next to her twice. The engines start and the line of trucks head out to the Avengers Tower.

‘We follow through; can you get the team into the cars?’

You nod and rush back in, ‘Ya’ll got five minutes, get your asses in those cars’ you call out. ‘Anyone who needs medical attention, yell’.

One person from the corner of the room yells.

You turn to Natasha. ‘I’ll take him to the Tower and drop him off, get a new guy, and meet you at the jet’. ‘You sure?’ ‘Yeah. Save me a good window seat’. ‘You got it’ she smiles and sits in the car.

The rest of the group files in, and you’re left with a large black BMW. You haven’t driven in a while, but the car has sirens, so you hope people will just get out of your way. ‘Okay mate, what’s your name’ you ask, as you pick him up. ‘Paul’ he chokes out. ‘Paul. Well, Paul, have you ever been inside the Avengers Tower?’

He shakes his head.

‘You’re in for the pampering of your life, if you manage to stay with me till the ride there, Paul’ you help him into the backseat of the car, and buckle him in. You run to the drivers’ side, get in, and flip the sirens on, driving at top speed to the Avengers Tower.

You make a call while rushing through the streets of New York. Over the bluetooth - ‘Hello?’ ‘Tony! Okay, I’m bringing over Paul, he was hurt badly in the fight…’ ‘Yup, Nat told me, med crew is already at reception’. ‘Excellent, I also need you to keep a S.H.I.E.L.D agent ready for me to take as a replacement’. ‘Also downstairs waiting, with full gear’. You just love this man. ‘You’re awesome, Stark’. ‘I know, kid. See you soon’ he hangs up.

You pull up to the entrance of the tower and the med crew rushes to help Paul out of your backseat, which is covered in blood.

Fortunately, Tony also has another car waiting for you.

This man is on another level, you think, chuckling.

‘Take care Paul!’ you yell. He gives you a thumbs up.

The new recruit comes up to you. ‘Hi, I’m Sean’ ‘Hello, Sean. Get in, we’ll talk’

He gets into the new car and you’re about to get in as well when you hear your name called out and turn around. It’s Loki.

‘Hi! I have to leave…’ He comes up to you and gives you a hug. ‘I forgot to give you a hug before you leave’ he holds you tight. ‘Oh’… you smile against his chest and hug him back. You’ve removed your bullet proof vest now, so it’s just a shirt. Loki can feel the amulet through it, that’s how tight he’s hugging you. ‘Take care’ he says, and lets go.

You grin and turn to get into the passenger side, then shut the door. Off to Dubai, then.

______________________________________________________________

Feedback and requests welcome :) <3 Thanks for reading!

#loki #loki marvel #loki x you #loki x reader #tom hiddleston x you #marvel avengers #avengers fanfiction #loki fandom #reader insert #fan fiction series #the support system

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zaymadden-author · 4 years ago

Text

Written by ZAY MADDEN

“Man, this is not how Saturday nights are supposed to go.” With all the shit going on in the world, I’ve been house-bound for a minute, and at this point I’m all TikTok’d out. A couple of my boys and my cousin Terrell pulled up on me around 8 for a couple rounds of 2K 🎮, but you know how Mississippi weather is. Mother Nature randomly decided to do her dirty work and had them staying later than planned, but once the sky stopped roaring, I sent my boys home. It was time for a night cap.

I trailed them outside to make sure they were all gone, and once the last car looped around my driveway, I could finally sit on my porch and think. I had my D’USSÈ 🥃 in one hand and my phone in another, scrolling through my thread of texts to see which girl I could get to bless my night; it was part of my weekend ritual. I had a rule though: never start at the top because most recent pussy tends to be not as interesting unless she really got that 🍑💦 if you know what I’m saying.

So, last I checked, Keisha wit the plump ass moved to Florida, which is unfortunate for me. She had one hell of a mouth piece in bed but never ran her mouth in the streets. I could respect that and that’s why I keep her on standby.

The next on my list, Monica, was on the classy end of the spectrum, but it was like rolling dice with her ass. Most of the time she waits until 7 am to reply. Her brain was still accustomed to her school schedule and she had a day job too, so I respected that. However, it sucked for me though cuz Monica was bad af from head to toe and really would’ve gave me a night to remember. Shit, I still reminisce about our last rendezvous. She had pretty feet and plump lips that felt like pillows with each kiss. And I know it’s weird, but I think it’s a turn on whenever I see her with those scrubs on. It’s just something about a hard-working black woman. (Damn smh.) I decided not even bother her this late.

So I kept scrolling up right, slowly feeling my luck build up, when my phone all of a sudden ding’d. My heart started thumping against my rib cage, and the corners of my mouth shot up. I couldn’t wait to see who this could be.

(I turn my notification banners off for good reason.)

Could it be Ashley? (The one that stayed wayyy out in Clinton). She usually texts when she wants some dick but it takes her forever to get to my place in Madison.

I put my search on pause and immediately made my way to the top to see who it could be. And would you believe it? “She always does this shit bruh. Like fr!”

Lo and fucking behold:

[MOM: Can you take your grandma to the store in the morning? I forgot to tell you earlier. Phone died.]

MAN 😤!! I almost summoned the spirit of Brady and launched $999 worth of iPhone in the damn pond. It’s 12:02 at night. She could’ve just waited until daylight resumed before bothering me with this!

I know that’s my heart and soul, but grandma is not the type of woman I want on my mind right now. But I replied “ok” to avoid any further communication at this hour.

I kept scrolling through my digital black book and I contemplated, but immediately dismissed, the idea of calling Alisha over. She said I be hurting her so she only wanna do oral. “Naw. I’ll pass. I’m good on that tonight.” Nobody else seemed worthy of hitting up at the time, at least this time of night, so I head inside. I locked the door behind me and made my way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I spritzed a little water on my head and brushed my waves into submission before securing it with my DuRag. Staring at this thick-browed, handsome, brown skinned fellow in the mirror, I began to question whether I still had it. “I am only 23 so that’s nowhere near the ‘falling off’ age,” I say to myself. I guess with me working day and night, I didn’t have time to pull ‘em like I used to.

So, I went and plopped on my bed, face towards the ceiling, contemplating my future, when I heard the sound of rocks sloshing under tires. The sound slowly magnified, and to myself I’m thinking that maybe one of my homeboys forgot something in my house. A barcode-like shadow cast on my wall as the luminance of headlights beamed through my blinds. I almost walked to the door empty handed, but the detective Stabler in me wasn’t taking any chances. So, I grabbed my piece in my night stand and asserted my second amendment rights. Tip-toe after tip-toe I was almost to the door when I heard the engine stop. A few seconds later there was this rhythmic chiming noise echoing through the walls. I crept to the front window stealthily, and peeked out the blinds. I could recognize the vehicle but I had to be sure it was who I thought it was, so I flicked on the second outdoor light.

All I saw was curly tresses flowing through the window of a pink Lexus.

“Aaliyah?” ..... “but how did she?”

With a mixture of anxiety and excitement, I snatched open the front door 🚪 to greet her. And when I saw her strut up the walkway with a touch of flair, a second emotion arose: confusion. How did she know I was alone? How did she know there wasn’t another girl here? It’s been two years and I still can’t figure out how this girl knows me so well and I think that’s why she intrigued me so much. It also scared me a little bit too. I usually don’t let a girl come over unannounced.

She would’ve been the first girl I tried to text, but last I checked she was in New York on business.

I shoot commercials for a living and I did one for her boutique. That’s how we came across each other.

But she’s here now so who cares that she popped up. (Maybe that’s just my dick talking 🤷🏾‍♂️... idk)

She had two Raising Cane’s bags, which I’m guessing that, during this pandemic, was the only thing she could come across at this time a night. Everything else was closed, even Taco Bell.

She let out a soft “Hey” as she bat her lashes and I quickly shut the gap in my mouth.

“What’s up?” I then responded.

And for a moment our eyes did a tango before she broke the silence.

“Can I come in? It’s kinda hot out here. ”

[And she wasn’t lying about that.]

We suddenly smiled at each other (each clipped with a note of sensuality), and with a nonverbal response, I helped her carry the drinks in and held open the door, catching a strange whiff of fried chicken and some floral fragrance as she walked by. I sucked my bottom lip as she sashayed towards my couch; those long legs accented by her gold trimmed pumps.

With a quick, smooth swivel of her body, she had positioned herself towards me, carrying a whole conversation with her eyes.

After locking my door I suddenly needed to adjust my boxer briefs. Gazing at those smooth brown legs made me graduate from flaccid to half chub, but my need to feast was urgent. My stomach was growling like a mf.

So I sit down to eat, right. And we get to chatting about her trip to NY ✈️ and how she’s been so stressed out with trying to open up a store out there. The whole time she’s going on and on about her tired body and her hectic work schedule, I’m reading in between the lines. She didn’t come here looking like that just to talk about work.

Aaliyah has never been one to admit what she wants from me, she just drops hints and expects you to go fishing for answers.

After smashing half my chicken box though, she got up like she had no time to waste. With a flick of her ankles she had both shoes flying across the floor. She took one last glance at me before leading the way to my bedroom, first slipping her skirt off in the living room and her shirt slowly draped from her body as she made her way down the hall. To keep up the tempo, I removed whatever she did, and by the time we made it to my room it was nothing but birthday suits.

I was ready for penetration at the door, but baby girl had other plans. She made me sit on the love seat by my window as she put on a show for me. It was an immediate game of teasing and temptation as she watched me slowly stroke my dick to every scene of her performance. First it was the leg play, then the breast tease, and then my favorite of all... something she knows gets me hard as steel.... the pussy play.

I love it when she bends open her thighs and plays with the most anticipated part of her body. Her smooth, brown sugar skin and nude polished nails drew an excellent contrast to that sweet, bright pink center. And she knew I wanted it too. She also knows how much I brag about how tight she is, so she takes her two fingers and spreads it open in full view for me. It was one thing for me to speculate, but when she slid one finger in and out for me, it was proof enough that her coochie still had that snap-back action.

I couldn’t take it anymore. With my dick now towering from my hand, I made my way over to her. She was now in submission as I asserted myself over her, so I pulled her to the the edge of the bed to get ready for my part. I looked down at myself, the tip of my dick head now glistening with anticipation, and said to her “I want you.”

And in the blink of an eye I was down on my knees and I had her hips cradled in my arms; my tongue digging into the flesh of her thigh, roughly gasping for air as I was too focused to remember breathing. With a slow dance of kissing and tongue-groping, I lead a trail up and down her thighs until I heard her say, “OMG.... Sean!”

I swear I felt a drop of pre-cum stream down to my ankle as I made my way to her hot zone 👅 . Like a rollercoaster, I had my tongue going round and round, remembering all the pressure points that made her thrust her pelvis into my face. I was in full control now, and no matter how hard she gripped the sheets, there was no escaping my vice grip.

My tongue was putting in overtime, and right before my clock struck 1:00 🕐 , I felt her first nut. We both laughed (our goofy asses) to try and cut down on all that sexual tension.

I reared my head to get a good look at her sex face, my goatee now dripping in her juices, and I gave her a look that let her know I was ready for that action. I sprinted like hell to my night stand to grab me a “rain coat,” acting as if my dinner was about to get cold or something.

I slid that mf on so quick. I’d been waiting for this all night. Pussy in my mouth was one thing, but BEING in it... whew 😌.

I looked at her again before I engaged in our post-foreplay session. I already had my 🍆💦 on the edge ready for the deep dive. We shared a gaze as I slowly began to make my way inside. She had that “keep going” look on her face, but it was only so long that she could keep her composure. After the head made its way in, baby girl’s eyes began to sync with my slow strokes. They rolled as my hips began to roll, and before she knew it, her neck gave out and she rested her head. I finessed my hips into a slow roll as I reached down and sucked on her neck. Her walls began to relax as her pussy gradually began to invite me in. I kept piping her down, constantly going deeper until her belly felt full. And by then, I knew I had her.

I secured her backside with my arms, careful not to smother her precious body, as she demanded I up the pace. To keep up the demand, I got more comfortable on the bed before I shifted into overdrive. “Nice Sean” was gone and “ZADDY Sean” was on the scene.

I was working that pussy like I was running track, and before long, she had thought twice about what she asked for. She thought she was slick, inching her body away like I didn’t notice. But guess what, I inched right along with her ass. She had a long ways to go on my California King before she could escape this dick.

At this point, her facial expressions were no longer inaudible. She was squeezing out “oooo’s” and “ahhhhh’s” between every attempt to catch her breath.

“Wait baby... ooooooooo wait.” She pleaded, but mercy was no longer on the table. I kept going until her juices soaked my inner thigh.

“OMG Sean!” She utters the mantra again. But this time I give in to her cries. Hell, I needed to catch my breath too. Shit! 🥵

I rolled over for a brief intermission, slowly creeping my way to the top of the bed near my pillow. She followed. We rested for a good little minute, kissing on each other as the clock kept ticking, but I was mentally preparing for the second round. It was late at night so I had only about two good positions left in me.

She took a bathroom break before we resumed.

I had decided it was her turn, so I stayed where I was and used my finger to signal her to come near when she walked back in the room. So, she took a domineering stance right before she climbed into bed and cat walked towards me. Titties just bouncing everywhere. Curls flowing effortlessly in the breeze of my ceiling fan. She knew what she was doing and she got my lil man right back up. ☝🏾

She leaned towards me for a kiss as she saddled my waist, slow grinding to drum up more anticipation. I slapped my meat against her ass cuz I wanted her to stop playing these games. Hell, my dick was damn near shivering in the wind now.

But she took the hint and began to guide it back in. This time I rolled MY eyes as her warm goodies began to cradle me inside. She placed her hands on my chest and made her first move upward, then she put her hips in reverse. She put this same two-step on repeat, bouncing up and down on my shit, going all the way to the base. I’m talking balls deep. With this kinda grip, my dick was on the verge of spittin’ already, but I held back my nut. “This ain’t how I wanna to go out”

I was diggin’ this lil rodeo vibe she had going on, but the more her pussy lips clapped down on me, the more I started edging. I let her take control for a minute, but that minute quickly turned into a second as her hip grinding began to slow down. The batteries in that energizer bunny were at 20%... but thats what Zaddy Sean is here for. 😏

Right as she was on her way up, I stopped her and I kept her right in that position, pounding that 🎂 until all I heard was Mac n cheese stirring.

But shit, at this point it was time to make that Mac n cheese creamy. I got prepared for the finale as we moved into sex position #95.

I had her face on the pillow and I made her spread them cheeks before I dove in back. And for some reason, this position always gets me. Idk if it’s the fluffiness of the ass that gets my rocks off or the fact that the thigh clenching makes everything feel tighter. Who knows. But I didn’t have time to contemplate that.

With a few more strokes I was about to fuckin explode. I grabbed her extra tight, squeezing them titties and pushing extra deep until her moans went from tenor to soprano.

“Only a few more seconds baby,” I said in my head.. “just a few more seconds.”

I put a flex in my hips when I felt that good moment coming, and on my last stroke of edging, when I hit her spot, she squeezed her cheeks extra tight... and that was the extra umph that I needed to let loose.

I wanted to paint her back 💦 but the hooded Kermit in me said “naw, leave that shit in big dawg.” 😏

So, I hit my last pumps like a New Years countdown. 5... 4... 3.... 2... making sure my last hit was the strongest. I held it there as my body spasmed and my perineum pulsated, leaving me temporarily paralytic.

Cuz that’s what good pussy will do to ya.

I took a second to savor the moment because my horny-ness hadn’t completely subsided yet. By the time I was ready to pull out, my jimmy was slowly becoming soft & squishy again.

With the head still sensitive, I slowly abort, careful to keep the condom in tact. She’s about as sleepy as I am now, and as I withdrew, she stole a peek of me staring at all the nut weighing down the tip of my condom.

It was mutually understood that we were both tapping out, but we mustered up enough energy to quickly shower up. The whole time in the shower I’m still mesmerized by her beauty, all horny-ness aside.

We towel off in about ten minutes and return to the room before I quickly throw some fresh sheets on my bed.

She basically invited herself to spend the night and who was I to say “no” to her. Cute ass. She knew she was my Achilles heel. So, as we lay in our resting position before dozing off, the question circled back around in my head...

How the hell did she know I was alone? 🤔

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just-lost-inbetween-worlds · 5 years ago

Text

A New Beginning- Spot Conlon x reader - part 1

Warnings: None. (I am a fairly new writer and the current edition is not edited in depth)

Summary: Introduction/Prologue

Author's note: Inspiration for writing this comes and goes so if you like it and/or want me to continue this story, it would really help me to know people enjoy this book so I can keep inspiration to keep writing this. Vote, comment, or whatever else, anything is greatly appreciated. Thank you for clicking on this book hope you enjoy.

Word count: 1,391

P.S. italics indicates singing

• • • • • • • • • •

In the morning at the Manhattan Newsboys lodging house

RACETRACK: In 1899, the streets of New York City echoed with the voices of newsies, peddling the newspapers of Joseph Pulitzer, William Randolph Hearst and other giants of the newspaper world. On every street corner you saw 'em, carrying the banner, bringing you the news for a penny a pape. Poor orphans and run-aways, the newsies were a ragged army, without a leader, until one day when all that changed.

Every morning, in the newsboys lodging house in Manhattan, its resident newsboys were to be up and dressed at sunrise, and ready to carry the banner. However, that was not often the case, the boys, orphans and run-aways aging from early childhood to late teens, were often still fast asleep in their bunks. So, like many other mornings, Mr.Kloppmann, the owner of the lodging house, is forced to drag his old tired feet up the stairs to personally yell and shove the boys awake, as well as scold them for their laziness.

"Boots!" Mr.Kloppmann leans down to yell at Boots. Boots jolts awake startled and looks to see who had been screaming at him so early in the morning. His eyes land on Mr.Kloppmann, who now has his back turned to him and is looking towards Skittery. Realizing that he isn't in imminent danger or anything like that, Boots relaxes and lets his eyes fall shut once again and lays his head down a little, hoping to not have to get up so soon as he is still tired.

Meanwhile Mr.Kloppmann has moved on to the next bunk, diagonal to the one Boots is in, which was being occupied by a sleeping Skittery.

"Oh, gee. Skittery!" Mr.Kloppmann walks over to him, "Skittery!" He slaps his feet and Skittery jolts up in response. Mr.Kloppmann proceeds to give him a quick smack in the face to wake him up, "Skittery!"

Skittery jolts awake, looking around uncoordinated and disheveled. Still half asleep, he mumbles defensively, "wha..I didn't do it!"

Unsure about whatever nonsense Skittery is going on about, Mr.Kloppmann replies confused and slightly annoyed, "What do you mean you didn't do it? Will you get up? When you get up, it's time to get up!"

Mr.Kloppmann, walks around the room and along the different bunks filled with boys, he continues to attempt to rous the boys out of their warm and comfy beds. "Snitch! Get up! Get up!" "Everybody's sleeping. They sleep their lives away these kids! The presses are rolling! Sell the papers, sell the papers!" He directs himself towards Jack's bunk next, "Come on, come on. You dreaming about selling papers?"

A drowsy Jack rolls over to face Mr.Kloppmann and mumbles back , "Mmmmmm? What's the matta with you?" He then proceeds to close his eyes and try to go to sleep once again.

"What's the matter with me?" Kloppmann asks.

"What's the matta with you?Wanna..go..back..to.." he dazes off.

"Come on!" Mr.Kloppmann urges and gives him a shove.

"Get away from me, you're mad!" Jack laughs.

"Haha. Get up boy! Come on." says Mr.Kloppmann, "Alright! Carry the banner! Sell the papers!"

Race gets up and out of bed to look for the cigar he snatched the day before, and notices Snipeshooter has it.

*Start Song*

"That's my cigar!' Race acusses.

"You'll steal anudder!," Snipeshooter dismissed, with a roll of his eyes and he continues to take a huff of it.

"Hey bummers, we got work tah do!" Kid Blink reminds the boys.

One of the boys questions him, getting in his face, "Since when did you become me mudder?"

"Aww, stop your bawling!" Crutchy commands all the newsies.

"Hey, who asked you?"

*Break Song*

"So, how'd you sleep Jack?" Asks Mush.

"On me back Mush," Jack states 'as a matter o fact-ly'.

"Ha ha. Hear that fellas?" Mush hollars, "Hear what Jack said?" he continues to tell the rest of the newsies as he alternates his arms giving Jack a punch side to side with each word that comes out of his mouth. "I asked Jack how he slept and he said 'On me back Mush.'"

Crutchy walks up to Jack, who is leaning against the wall, Crutchy rubs his chest and asks, "Jack, when I walk, does it look like I'm faking it?"

" No," Jack pushes himself off the wall and stands upright, "Who says you're faking it?" Jack asks as he slings his arm across Crutchy's shoulder reassuringly.

"I dunno. It's just there's so many fake crips on the street today, a real crip ain't got a chance." Crutchy sighs, "I gotta find me a new selling spot where they ain't used to seeing me."

*Re-Picks up Song*

Mush and Racetrack overhear their conversation across the vanity. Mush is drying himself with a towel while Race is combing through his hair.

"Try Bottle Alley or the harbour," Mush suggests.

Race says, "Try Central Park, it's guaranteed!"

"Try any baker, bum, or barber."

"They almost all knows how to read!"

"I smell money!" says Kid Blink.

"You smell foul!" Crutchy retorts, as he slams his back to the wall and puts a hand to his chest like he had been attempting to escape the offensive odor. Kid Blink gets in his face ready to start a brawl.

Mush jumps in and shoving Blink at the base of his hat. "Met this girl last night!"

"Move your elbow!" Crutchy complains, repeatedly getting Boots' elbow to the face. Boots' pumps the water to help the youngest newsie get the water to bathe himself.

Somewhere else, Race must have gotten water in his eyes as he is stumbling around with his eyes squinted shut.

"Pass the towel!" Racetrack says, squinting his eyes shut and reaching his arms out as he looks for the towel to dry his eyes with.

While Race is stumbling around, Skittery who is holding the towel, hops onto a chair and waves it around above Race's head tauntingly.

"For a buck I might!" he replies as he jumps off of the chair snapping/snagging the towel from races reach.

In unison the newsies chant, as they finish up getting ready and putting their newsies caps and ties on for the day,

"Ain't it a fine life

Carrying the banner through it all?

A mighty fine life

Carrying the banner tough and tall

Every morning, we goes where we wishes

We's as free as fished

Sure beats washin' dishes

What a fine life

Carrying the banner home-free all!" as they go down the stairs and pass Mr.Kloppmann to leave the lodging house to go get their papers and start the days work.

They continue on as they head towards newsies square, dancing and messing around with one another.

"Summer stinks and winter's waiting

Welcome to New York

Boy, ain't nature fascinating

When you'se gotta walk?

Still, it's a fine life

Carrying the banner with me chums

A mighty fine life

Blowing every nickel as it comes"

"I'm no snoozer

Sitting makes me antsy

I likes living chancy," says Crutchy.

"Harlem tah Delancey

What a fine life

Carrying the banner through the slums"

But they get interrupted by the wagon of nuns singing biblical soloems,

"Blessed children thought you wander lost and depraved

Jesus loves you, you shall be saved!"

The nuns were out giving charity to the poor like they did every other day (except for holy Sunday). The newsies approach the wagon and huddle around it waiting to be able to get their hands on some food.

"Patrick, darling

Since you left me, I am undone

Mother loves you

God save my son!" A lady desperately pleads to her son who probably had ended up joining and becoming a newsie.

... just like me, except, I had no one looking for me, I didn't even have anyone to look for me anymore. And of course I am faced yet again with what had happened just a short time ago as it is written in big bold letters on the daily news sign/and newspapers...

• • • • • • • • • •

To be Continued?...

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onewaywardwitch · 6 years ago

Text

Just A Typo (2/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Hacker!Reader

Summary: It was a simple challenge between a very competitive group of friends. A challenge that ended very differently than anticipated.

Warnings: Just a bit of language

Word Count: 2140

A/N: Ahhh the feedback on part 1 was amazing! Thank you all so much! Here’s part 2!

There are moments in your life when you know you’ve screwed up. Like when you decide to try the new Starbucks coffee, only to realise it’s as horrible as you predicted, and you’ve wasted €5. Or when you spend all night binge-watching some show on Netflix when you know you’ve got to get up early for work the next morning. Or when you agree to hack into one of the world’s best security systems to fuel your own ego and diminish your friend’s one. And while I've found myself in the first two situations many times, the third was a new one for me.

“I promise to visit you at least once a month when you get sent to Alcatraz,” Becca sang as she all but skipped into Angie’s apartment to join the rest of us. I laughed sarcastically.

“Sent to Alcatraz for hacking? Crime expectations must be low lately if they’re sending hackers there.”

“I’m sure Tony Stark has some pull in the government to get you put away there. You know, when you get caught,” she gloated. It was obvious she thought I was heading down the same route as Sophie. Her confidence only made me want to prove her wrong even more.

Angie ignored our seemingly never-ending banter and carried on setting up my laptop and other work necessities.

“I still don’t understand why you have to have a pack of Haribo with you every time you do something illegal,” she sighed, glaring at me as I stood with Becca.

“Well it’s just common sense, Angie. I can’t have chocolate, it’ll get all over my hands. Biscuits leave crumbs everywhere and hot chocolate is a recipe for disaster,” I replied, keeping my face as straight as I could.

“No, I don’t get why you need sweets at all!”

“That’s a stupid question. You always need sweets. We can’t all live off boiled vegetables and whole-grain everything.”

Angie just looked at Becca in defeat, who shrugged her shoulders.

“Hey, if I get the job done, who cares what I eat?” I strutted over to the table that had my laptop on it. Unfortunately, my confident walk did nothing to ease my nerves as my friends watched on eagerly.

~~~~~

“Becca, I swear to Thor if you breathe on my neck again, I’ll break yours,” I snapped. Becca and Angie shared a nervous glance while I typed furiously, the lines and lines of code beginning to make me dizzy.

“Y/N, you’ve proven your point. Your brilliant. A mastermind. A true gift to the hacking community. You can quit now, it’s alright.” Becca was beginning to regret ever provoking me when she saw how much more advanced Stark’s system was compared to the systems we would normally attack for a laugh.

I could sense Angie about to open her mouth when the screen suddenly went blank and the three of us froze where we were; Becca leaning over my shoulder, Angie holding her third cup of herbal tea, and me with jelly rings on each of my extremely tired fingers.

The screen flashed once, before several different boxes popped up. It took each of us about seven seconds to realise we were looking at the feed from the security cameras placed around Avengers Tower.

“Holy shit,” whispered Angie.

“I am the greatest and I’m completely unappreciated in my time,” I grinned, my eyes flickering from each small screen.

“IS THAT BLACK WIDOW?”

“Agh! Becs, inside voice please.” Becca refused to acknowledge my complaint. Her gaze was fixated on the image of the Natasha Romanoff eating what I guessed was-

“A poptart! I have those all the time, we’re practically soulmates!” Becca exclaimed.

As Angie tried to explain to Becca that her comment was only a bit unrealistic, I gazed at each of screens on my laptop. Who would have thought that the Falcon would be spending his day holding something shiny while running away from a very angry, one-armed Winter Soldier? Or that Hawkeye drinks milk straight from the carton and puts it back in the fridge when no one’s looking?

Just as Becca started to talk about the Black Widow’s hair (“I could never pull off the red like she does!”), the laptop flashed black, before more lines of code began popping up again.

“Oh shit, we’re busted. Angie, gummy bear, now,“ I demanded, quickly returning to my state of concentration (which was difficult after seeing Captain America lifting weights). Angie grabbed the bag and put one of the bears in my mouth, only for me to spit it out in disgust.

“Not a yellow one, a red! I'm not a monster,” I yelped before turning back to the task at hand. Nervously chewing on the nicest flavoured gummy bear, I attempted to keep up with Stark’s excellent security.

“Make sure you can’t be traced. Keep the IP address hidden and get out,” I heard Angie mutter behind me. After a couple of minutes, I felt myself relax, watching the screen change to my regular background of the Supernatural cast.

“We are out and I’m going to go down in history as the greatest hacker that ever existed.” I spun in my chair, grinning at the girls as my confidence rose again. “I just hacked into Avengers Tower, admired Captain America’s incredibly toned body for a bit, before successfully leaving without giving away my location or any way for them to trace me. How was that for you Becca?”

She looked at me, a small smile growing on her face. “I'm impressed, Y/N. Shame Sophie’s not here so you could gloat to her too, but that was pretty awesome.”

“I can’t believe you pulled that off,” Angie said admirably, her herbal tea long forgotten on the nearby countertop. I winked at her and held out the nearly empty bag of Haribos.

“Yellow gummy bear anyone?”

~~~~~

Tony Stark was busy doing nothing in his lab with Dr Banner when F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced that someone was hacking into their system.

“Well what are you waiting for F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Flush ‘em out. And get their location.”

“Sir, they’ve already broke down our firewalls and accessed our cameras.”

That caught Tony’s attention. He looked at Bruce confusedly before again telling F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get whoever it was out of their system using whatever means necessary. As the A.I. was occupied with that, he called all the Avengers to the briefing room.

~~~~~

“Barnes, if you could stop murdering Wilson with your eyes for just five minutes so we can start?”

Bucky turned and aimed his glare at Tony instead, still scowling that Sam had somehow managed to steal his arm for nearly half an hour. That man knew all the best hiding places in this tower.

Tony rolled his eyes and clapped his hands together, deciding to get straight to the point. “Nothing to worry about, but someone hacked into the tower and accessed all of the cameras. We don’t know who or why, but F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s nearly got a location, I think.”

The uproar was immediate.

“I thought your security was the best there is!”

“How long have they been watching us?”

“What else have they hacked into?”

Tony grimaced as all the voices overlapped and became louder. His embarrassment that some computer nerd cracked his online defences was obvious from the lack of his usual playful tone and he wasn’t in the mood for messing about now. He opened his mouth but before he could speak, F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice rang through the room, effectively shutting everyone up.

“Sir, I believe I have the location of the hacker. It appears they made a slight typing error when concealing their IP address.”

“A typo? Rookie mistake,” Sam mumbled.

“That ‘rookie’ managed to hack into all our cameras pretty quickly,” Bruce stated, looking at Sam pointedly.

“Okay, Cap, take your brooding boyfriend in the corner and bring in whoever it is. It's nowhere near any known HYDRA bases, so my guess? A group of boys hiding out in one of their mom’s basements. Shouldn’t be too difficult.” Steve nodded at Tony and made his way over to Bucky while everyone else left the room, still discussing the infiltrator who was able to beat the great Tony Stark.

~~~~~

Steve looked around the apartment in surprise. This was definitely not what they were expecting. The place was clean and lacked any personal touches. That is, if he weren’t including the many Funko Pop figures that were scattered seemingly at random throughout the apartment. He moved towards the laptop that was laying carelessly on the kitchen table.

“Just talked to the landlady,” Bucky said, gesturing towards the front door where a woman in her mid-fifties stood excitedly, trying to catch a glimpse of the great Captain America. Bucky waved his flesh hand at her, hoping she’d get the message to leave them alone. Fortunately for him, one of the neighbours came out and started complaining to her about the thin walls. That made her run off quickly.

“Apartment is owned by a woman in her late twenties, early thirties. She asked to be kept off the books, and your admirer back there had no problem with that because she always paid her rent on time and by cash.”

“Does she have any idea where she could be now?” Steve asked, closing over the front door again so they wouldn’t raise any suspicions.

“She said she left around three hours ago, hopefully to get some food. Her fridge is empty. Except for a tub of ice-cream,” Bucky snorted.

They both stopped talking when they heard the rustling of keys just outside the door. Bucky went to stand beside Steve, who was back beside the laptop. He placed a hand over the gun he always carried in his trousers as the door opened. But he felt himself relax a bit when he heard a familiar tune.

“Is that… Queen?” Steve whispered as the woman began humming to herself. Natasha had taken it upon herself to educate the two veterans on all the music they had missed out on in the past seventy years, including Queen, Michael Jackson, and Adele. This was one of the few songs they actually recognised.

The woman stumbled into the kitchen, struggling to carry all the shopping bags she had tried to carry up in one trip. Her headphones were blaring Bohemian Rhapsody loud enough for the two men to hear clearly. They shared a look of surprise as she still hadn’t noticed them standing a few feet behind her.

~~~~~

“But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away,” I sang quietly to myself as I restocked my fridge. I was still on a high from my incredible success with Becca and Angie only a few hours ago. We were going to celebrate with Angie’s cheap champagne, before Becca realised she was about two hours late for work. I left shortly after her to buy more ice-cream, which quickly turned into buying half the grocery store.

“Mama, oooo- OH WHAT THE FUCK!” My dramatic spin while singing didn’t end as well as I had planned. I wasn’t exactly prepared for the two super soldiers who stood by my table, watching me with humour. I tugged my headphones out of my ears and stared at them dumbstruck.

“Captain America… wow such an honour… you’re very… wow. And the Winter Barnes! Oh god, there’s a ‘soldier’ in there somewhere, isn’t there? Very, very… broad.” My voice died off towards the end as the word came out of my mouth too quickly for me to recognise them. The Captain’s eyes sparkled in amusement, while the Winter Soldier was looking at me with interest. He failed to see how this woman caused Stark so much concern.

Captain America opened his mouth to speak, but at that exact moment I coped why two Avengers were standing in my apartment.

“Oh, this is about the whole Avengers Tower thing, isn’t it? The camera, the hacking… I'm not evil! I wasn’t planning on accessing any confidential information and selling it! I don’t do that, I was just messing with friends, I swear!” Apparently, I had lost all control over my own mouth and I confessed to everything without either of the men saying a word. They glanced at each other before Captain Rogers turned back to me.

“You understand we need to bring you in anyway. We have questions you need answer back at the tower.”

I nodded nervously at the pair as they escorted me downstairs to where a car was waiting outside, the Soldier bringing my laptop with him.

“This explains why Nora was in such a good mood when I passed her on the stairs earlier,” I thought to myself. “She never smiles when I pay her my rent, but one visit from America’s golden boy has her skipping to her door!”

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wildirishrosie38 · 4 years ago

Text

Birthday Boy

Dean woke up to the sound of singing coming from the kitchen. He pulled on a t shirt from his clean stack of clothes and grabbed his robe. He followed the sound to find his girlfriend standing at the stove. "Hey. What's got you in a good mood?" He smiled as he hugged her from behind. She turned around to wrap her arms around his neck and returned the favor. "You, of course." Emma said then kissed him. "Go grab some coffee. Breakfast is almost done." "Smells good!" Dean exclaimed and walked to the coffee pot. He grabbed a couple cups and filled them up. As Emma made up a couple plates for them, Sam joined them. "Hey guys. Emma, I took care of that phone call." Sam spoke as he went to the frig and grabbed a bottle of water. "Thanks, Sam." Emma replied as she carries the plates to the table. "There's more on the stove if ya want it." "What call?" Dean asked as he sat down to a hot breakfast of fried eggs, hash browns, and all the bacon he could eat. "Huh?" Sam asked as he leaned against the counter. He twisted off the cap of his water and took a drink. "You said you took care of a phone call for Em. What was it?" Dean asked as he dug into his eggs. "Oh. Uh yeah. Nothing. Just another hunter wanting some advice. Emma was in the middle of cooking so I took it for her." Sam answered which was a lie. But he didn't want to let on to what Emma had planned. Dean looked from his brother to his girlfriend and thought something was up. But kept it to himself. He turned his attention back to his breakfast, enjoying every bite of it. Emma sat across from him watching as he ate. She couldn't help but laugh at how much he could eat, especially bacon. She smiled as she ate her own breakfast. Sam grabbed some toast, an egg and made an egg sandwich with a few added veggies. He sat down beside his brother and ate happily. "So what are the plans for the day?" Dean asked as he finished up. "I was thinking of just hanging out, maybe grab a good book from my shelf." Sam answered. "Yuck." Dean stuck out his tongue. "Hey, you do what you want to relax and I'll do what I want to relax." Sam defended his decision. "I have to pick up those parts for my truck. Care to drive me into town?" Emma asked with a smile. "Yeah. Let me go get dressed." Dean returned the smile. "Do I get my usual payment for fixing your truck?" "What do you think?!" Emma winked at him. "Yes!" Dean pumped his fist in the air in triumph. He jumped up from the table and disappeared to his room to change. "I'll keep him distracted while you get everything set up." Emma looked at Sam. "Yes. Balloons and stuff are in the room beside mine as we speak. Cake and pie both will be ready at 3. I can sneak out to get them." Sam reassured her with a smile. "Sounds good. I can probably keep him out of the bunker til after that." Emma looked at her watch and made a mental note in her mind. "It's a plan. Get him out of here. And I'll take care of the rest." Sam added as he picked up the empty dishes from the table. "I'll take care of these as well." "Thank you, Sam." Emma was grateful for his help. "I mean it." She had to stand on her tip toes to hug him. She helped him clear the dishes to the sink before she left him. Dean put the couple boxes of truck parts in Baby's trunk as Emma slipped out of her jacket. She tossed it in the backseat then climbed in the front passenger seat. Dean slipped into the driver seat, started Baby up then turned to Emma. "So you want to head back so I can fix your truck?" Dean winked at his girlfriend. Emma slid across the seat to sit right beside him. "Let's take advantage of the sunshine and go for a drive first." Emma gave him a wicked smile. "Maybe I can pay you in advance." "Happy birthday to me!" Dean smiled as he shifted Baby into drive. Emma twisted the knob on the radio to pull in the local classic rock station. "You read my mind, Sweetheart." Dean pulled Baby off the two lane black top onto a dirt road leading to a secluded spot in the middle of the woods. He parked and wrapped his arms around Emma. He pulled her close and kissed the side of her head. They settled back in to the leather of Baby's front seat and watched as the world passed by. Sam had balloons stuck all around the map room and the staircase. Emma had a banner made up that he hung up as well. He stood on the steps to the library to check his work when the door creaked opened. He looked up to see Cas. "Sam, what is all of this?" Cas asked as he looked around in wonderment. "Hey Cas." Sam greeted the angel. "Yeah.. um.. Emma wanted to throw Dean a birthday party. She out with him so I can get everything up and ready." "Today is Dean's birthday." Cas said as he came down the stairs to join Sam on the steps. "Yep." Sam smiled and glanced at his watch. "I actually have to go into town to grab some stuff." "Need me to come along?" Cas asked. "Sure. Come on." Sam replied and led the angel back up the stairs to the front door. Time seemed to pass by slowly as Dean and Emma slipped into the back seat of Baby. Radio cranked up and playing a mixed tape of loving making songs. Emma held on tight to Dean's arms as he slipped their jeans off. Dean looked into those baby blues for permission to go further. Emma smiled and gave him the go ahead. Their rocking matched up with the beat of the music. Soon they were in the throws of love making. Dean kissed every inch of exposed skin on Emma's body which caused her to shiver and have goosebumps. Before they knew it, they had exploded together and laying side by side facing each other. Dean softly brushed Emma's hair out of her eyes. "I still wonder what it is I did to deserve you." Dean smiled at her. "I lowered my standards." Emma joked. "Funny." Dean shot back. "I mean it, Emma." "You want an honest answer?" Emma asked as she gently traced the lines of his abs. "Yes. What did you see in me that made you fall in love with a man like me?" Dean asked. "First off, I didn't fall in love with a man like you. I fell in love with you, Winchester." Emma stated as she poked him in the chest. "That smart ass smirk of yours is what caught me. You were just so damn adorable with it." "Were?" Dean acted offended. "Yes. Now you are the most handsome man I have ever known. Inside and out, Dean." Emma smiled and looked into those green eyes. She had seen those eyes hide so much pain then turn around and show so much love in the blink of a eye. "You have the biggest heart. Your care and love of others is admirable." Emma continued. Dean grinned to hear her talk about how much she loved him. He just wished he could return the favor but every time he tried, he got tongue tied and the words come out all wrong. "Your toughness, your ability to never give up even when there is nothing left. Your ability to make me feel safe no matter where we are. I know as long as you are alive, I will always have the feeling of home." Emma spoke from the heart. She wanted him to know just how much she appreciated him. She glanced at her watch a moment. "I could go on and on, but we should get back so you can get to working on my truck." "Yeah." Dean agreed as he ran his fingers through his hair. Sam and Cas picked up the cake, pie, and other food they needed. They returned to the bunker to find that Emma and Dean weren't back yet. Sam directed Cas to take stuff to the kitchen while he pulled out his phone. He quickly sent a text message to Emma. "Everything's set up. Cas is here. Ready when you are." Emma read the text as Dean turned Baby around and headed her towards home. "Heading back now. Be there in about ten minutes." She texted back to Sam. Dean noticed her out of the corner of his eye. "Anything important?" He asked. "No just a text from that hunter that called this morning." Emma lied. She didn't like to lie to him but she also knew that what she and Sam had waiting for him back in the bunker was gonna to blow him away. "Uh huh." Dean was suspicious of her. "Do I know this hunter?" "I don't think so. He from up in New England. He's the son of an old friend not my dad's." Emma lied and without realizing it looked down at her feet. She slipped her phone into her jeans and looked back at Dean. "You keep your secrets, woman. I'll get them out of you later." Dean gave her that smart ass grin. "Oh I bet you will." Emma gave him her own smart ass grin. Sam and Cas stood beside the map table to wait on Emma and Dean. A birthday cake and an apple pie sat on the table with plates, forks, and a knife. Sam had stuck a few birthday candles in both the cake and pie. "Is all of this necessary to celebrate the day that Dean was being?" Cas asked as he held the cardboard cone hat in his hands. Sam picked one up from the table and put it on. "Yes." Sam answered. "Cas, growing up the way Dean and I did, we never celebrated birthdays. So we missed out on this." Sam pointed around the room at the balloons and other decorations. He had a moment of heartache but pushed it aside. This was Dean's day. "Since Emma's come to be a great part of our lives, she has been bringing the joy of days like this to Dean and me." Sam continued with a sincere tone. "I feel ridiculous." Cas spoke as he put the hat on his head. "But it's for Dean, I'll wear it." "Haha. Yeah I do, too." Sam laughed. Just then the door creaked open and the two men looked up to see who was there. "SURPRISE!" Sam yelled as he saw his brother come to the railing on the landing. Dean was super surprised as Emma stood beside him with a wide grin on her face. "What is all this?" Dean asked as he took it all in. Emma stood on tiptoes, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and a hug. "Happy birthday, babe!" Emma exclaimed. "Happy birthday, Dude!" Sam called out as Dean and Emma came down the stairs. Dean walked around in a circle to take it all in. "Yes. Happy birthday, Dean." Cas followed suit. His voice the usual monotone when he didn't understand something that his friends were doing. "Make a wish." Sam grabbed a lighter and lit the candles. Dean laughed as Emma placed a birthday boy hat on his head. "What could I wish for that I don't have right here right now?" Dean asked then bent down to blow out the candles. He grabbed Emma by the waist and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her softly on those blush colored lips of hers. "I have everything I ever wanted already. A family."

#dean winchester #supernatural #birthday #family

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jackscrutchie · 8 years ago

Text

angst for the sake of angst. remember that little post i made earlier about jack leaving crutchie behind during the scuffle? well. again -- it’s probably bad and a little sloppy because i’m working through writers block rn.... sorry!

So they were doing this. It was actually going to happen and while Crutchie was sure that everything would be okay -- He couldn't help but worry a little bit. After all, these boys were his family. He didn't want any of them getting hurt... What if someone got seriously injured? What would they do? What could they do? Would anyone even care? Crutchie listened to the speech Jack gave, hanging on every word. 'Ain't no crime to bein' poor.' He fidgeted a bit, nervous but beaming with pride at their leader. Jack was so determined to make things better for him and the rest of the boys.

Still -- What would they do if the cops decided to show up? He had seen what they did to the trolley workers. Would Jack want them to run or would he want them to stay and fight? His head spun, his heart raced. What if someone got taken to the refuge? His chest tightened at the thought. He had seen what that place had done to Jack. On more than one occasion, Crutchie had to physically shake him out of a nightmare. He would be covered in sweat, unable to breathe, unsure of where he was... He didn't want that for anyone. What would happen if Jack were the one to get dragged off to that hell to suffer again? No -- He wouldn’t let that happen.

But he shook his head, erasing the thought from his mind for a moment. These boys were strong. They were fighters and so was he. He wasn't going to back down, no matter how nervous he felt. He couldn't, wouldn't do that. He would fight for them just as they would fight for him. He had faith in these boys. He believed in them and their drive. He believed in the strength they had and the confidence they could hold on to. He smiled.

"Throw down your papers -- And join the strike." Crutchie heard the crack in Jack's voice. He knew how much this all meant to him. Jack was a passionate person. When he felt he was being wronged, he refused to back down. He stood firmly in place as the scabs, one after the other, turned their backs on Pulitzer and joined them in the fight. Crutchie watched Jack's face glow with pride. They were on their way now -- It was time to be proud. Time to be defiant. "One for all and all for one!" Dozens of voices rang out.

"Strike! Strike! Strike strike strike strike strike strike strike strike!" Their chants echoed throughout Newsie square. Bouncing off windows and walls, passerby's glanced their direction, but moved along quickly. Wiesel looked horrified, angry, and annoyed all at once. Crutchie stepped away, watching Jack celebrate with Davey and the others. He forced a bright smile every time someone's eyes met his. Damn this leg... He picked at the loose threads of the banner he had made. Jack had praised him for it earlier, but really, what good could it do? It was just a ratty piece of cloth. He was only sure he spelled 'strike’ right because he had seen it on the front page so many times. What use did it have? Did he have here? His mind clouded again -- He was just in the way.

Les had smiled up at him and defended it. Maybe Pulitzer would see it. But would he really feel sorry for them? He doubted it. "Ugh..." Crutchie groaned. Now wasn't the time to stand around feeling this way. He had to encourage his friends, he had to be there for them. He had to smile and cheer. It was important to support them.

"Crutchie!" Les called to him and smirked, pointing at a piece of newspaper in his hand.

Crutchie plastered a big grin on his face and limped over to the younger boy. Les looked up towards Pulitzer's window and laid the paper on the ground stomping one small foot on it. "Yeah, you see this Mr. Pulitzer?" Crutchie laughed and followed suit, stepping on the other half and the two of them pulled it apart. It was a simple and quick act of defiance, but it had earned him a big smile and clap on the back from Jack. His heart fluttered again. As long as Jack was proud.

He was back in his own little corner now, his eyes still on Jack. He was giving hugs, patting backs and playfully punching at the others. Crutchie's leg ached. He longed for things like that -- But it seemed...

Oh -- "Jack!" Crutchie yelled. Oscar and Morris came out of what seemed like no where, throwing a hard punch that connected with Jack's jaw. He went down. Then Davey was down. Crutchie could hear the knuckles impact on his cheek. Now Oscar had Les over his shoulder and was walking off. No... Crutchie started forward, but was stopped by Specs. A few of the boys had managed to wrestle Les away, and had the two brothers completely surrounded and on their knees.

Jack grinned at Les when he knocked the Delancey's heads together. He beamed at Davey when he lifted Les onto his shoulder. Crutchie's chest ached. Oh how he longed for that... Now they celebrated louder. Crutchie made himself smile. He made himself cheer. No one had gotten seriously hurt. Everyone was still there -- Everything was okay. He joined them all at the circulation window, all smiles and excitement. A flash from Katherine's camera then more cheers. They jumped and ripped papers and threw them into the streets. They yelled and laughed and hugged and Crutchie's leg throbbed, but he was happy. Right?

The laughter faded. Wiesel was standing there, a bat in his hand. The Delancey's were back as well... And with them, a dozen or more of their goons. They stood tall, facing their opponents and waited for Jack's word...

"Newsies." Jack never faltered. His eyes piercing each of the men across from them. "Get 'em!"

Bundles of papers flew back and forth, trash bins rolled across the ground. Fists were flying, Wiesel's bat swung around with no real target. Crutchie stayed back, trying not to be in the way. Trying to convince himself that everything would be okay. He shouted words of encouragement. "Get 'em Jack!" A goon had Mush pinned. He swung his crutch hard, sending the bigger man to the ground unconscious. "You okay?"

Mush gasped, catching his breath and nodded and he regained his composure. "Thanks, Crutch." He grabbed his shoulder and smiled, sweat beading at his forehead. "Be careful." A firm nod, and Mush was back in the brawl.

Crutchie cringed watching Davey get kicked in the stomach and bit back tears when Finch was elbowed in the nose. "Come on fellas!" He yelled, his throat tight. A bundle of papers was thrown at him, but he managed to duck out of the way. Jack ran to him -- Concern in his eyes.

"You okay?" He asked, examining Crutchie's face for any damage. There was none. Crutchie nodded and smiled, meek.

A whistle.

Jack's head snapped back to see what had happened. Crutchie kept his eyes on Jack. He watched the sweat trickle down his neck and into his shirt. He saw his shoulders just barely trembling.

"It's about time you showed up! They're slaughtering us!" Romeo turned to face the tall man. The bulls.

The officer raised a hand and backhanded Romeo hard, sending him to the ground. This was it. If they were caught now, they'd be taken to the refuge for sure.

Chaos.

"Cheese it, fellas!" Jack ordered.

Boys were running everywhere, trying to escape. Crutchie watched as Jack took off back into the fight, grabbing Les and pushing him towards Davey. Pushing him towards safety. He reached out his hand. "Jack!" Snyder was on his tail. "Jack!!"

Jack turned just in time to avoid capture, throwing a heavy bundle of papers into Snyder's stomach. He lept over debris and ran. Never looking back.

His breath caught in his throat. Crutchie's heart sank. His world spun, his surroundings blurred. Darkness clouded his peripheral vision. He was hearing things like they were far away now. Like he was trapped behind some heavy door listening from the inside. His friends were everywhere, trying to evade the cops, Snyder and Wiesel's goons all at once. Some were helping others run. Tommy Boy was carrying Ike on his back. Katherine was helping Jojo limp away... He was going to be fine. He could get out of this on his own. He started to hobble towards the others. "Wait for --" His words were cut short by a rough shove.

"Where do you think you're goin' huh?" Oscar grabbed him roughly by the arm, shaking him.

"You lousy --" Crutchie's mind shut out the word as Morris grabbed his other arm. Together, the brothers dragged him away from the other retreating newsboys. "You ain't gettin' away that easy." His smirk was wicked, the bruise building around his eye only added to it.

"Let go of me! Jack!! Jack help me!" Crutchie struggled. He tried twisting and pulling, but to no avail.

"The hell is this supposed to be, huh?" Oscar laughed, ripping the banner from his crutch and scoffing at it. "Pathetic!"

What should he do? What could he do? He glared up at Oscar, his eyes welling with tears. He mustered what strength he had left, brought his crutch up and swung it. It hit Oscar's stomach hard, he was sure he'd heard a crack. He double over and hit the ground yelping in pain. It felt good -- But it was short lived.

"That's my brother!" Morris threw his fist at Crutchie, his knuckles connecting with his freckled face. He felt skin break. His world went dark for a moment before he hit the concrete. His crutch clattered down and away from him.

His breath hitched and the world warped around him. Did this even matter? Would anyone even notice..? Why did Jack... His eyes tried to focus on a figure coming towards him. "Jack..?" His voice didn't come out.

Snyder.

Crutchie's eyes widened, and they burned with threatening tears. He tried to scoot away from the approaching man, but his leg... He couldn't survive the refuge. He couldn't... "No... No please!"

Snyder picked up his old beaten up crutch and looked at it for a moment, sneering. It was the cruelest look Crutchie had ever seen. Snyder turned his attention his to the defenseless boy and grinned.

Crutchie lifted his hands, begging, pleading. "No, please! No!" His mind flashed back to his parents. His entire body was shaking. "Please!"

Snyder raised a brow and scoffed. One -- He brought the crutch down into Crutchie's gut. Two -- Again, much harder this time. Three -- Into his bad leg.

Crutchie curled in on himself, nausea filing his stomach. His vision was clouding again. One of the Delancey's spit at him. He coughed, his eyes squeezing shut. This was happening. His arm was ripped away from his body, a cuff going on one thin wrist and then the other.

"It's off to the refuge with you, little man." Snyder threw his crutch at Morris and gestured to the shaking boy. "Take him away!"

It was over. Would Jack miss him? He yelped as his bad leg was grabbed and he was being dragged off. Maybe there was still hope. He had to believe there was still hope. "Help! Someone please! Jack!!!" His stomach burned, the skin being scraped on the ground. It was agony -- But still. "Jack please!" He thought he heard Jack's voice calling after him but -- He didn't come. No one came.

He felt his eyes getting heavy. He was losing consciousness now -- His skin was raw from being dragged by the time they stopped by the carriage that would take him to the refuge. Crutchie looked up at the sky the best he could, tears pouring down his face. Jack left him behind -- And who could blame him? He wasn't mad. How could he ever be mad at Jack? He knew that he would just slow them down and Jack probably realized that as well. He swallowed a sob. Would he ever see the stars again? He closed his burning eyes and let himself rest. The other boys were safe. They were hurt -- But they were safe. His lips quivered, but curled into a small smile. They were safe. His family was safe. Jack was safe.

#newsies #crutchie #crutchie morris #jack kelly #angst #hiccup writes

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ao3feed-haikyuu · 4 years ago

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Making Headlines - Haikyuu x Newsies

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3gT4Dru

by butterkwup

In 1899, the streets of New York City echoed with the voices of newsies, peddling the newspapers of Madoka Yachi, and other giants of the newspaper world. On every street corner you saw 'em, carrying the banner, bringing you the news for a penny a pape. Poor orphans and run-aways, the newsies were a ragged army, without a leader, until one day when all that changed.

Kageyama Tobio, a Manhattan-raised newsboy who dreams of a life as an artist away from the big city. After publishing giant Miss Madoka raises newspaper prices at the newsboys’ expense, Kageyama and his fellow newsies take action. With help from the beautiful female reporter Yachi "Himiko" Hitoka, all of New York City soon recognizes the power of the Karasuno Union.

Words: 216, Chapters: 1/17, Language: English

Fandoms: Haikyuu!!, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Other

Characters: Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou, Yachi Hitoka, Yachi Madoka, Tanaka Saeko, Nishinoya Yuu, Azumane Asahi, Sugawara Koushi, Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Ennoshita Chikara, Tsukishima Akiteru, Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Minor Characters

Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Additional Tags: Newsies References, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Broadway References, Haikyuu as Newsies, minor abuse, Poor Kageyama Tobio, Poor Hinata Shouyou, Angst with a Happy Ending, newsies au, Beta Read

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3gT4Dru

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq #ao3feed #fanfic #haikyu #ハイキュー!!

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benajahccjoseph · 7 years ago

Text

from gods slit wrist

Halogen Incense

Daddy stopped when he left her car seat on the roof.

She was born into it. Early she saw everyone was born similarly She lived in horror at the world’s endless supply of heretics.

Consuming confusion was brilliant in her entrance. A blinding that you tried to look through. The star, the yesteryear, the livid hopes; all under her banner. She entered stage center, dazzled and smiled the smile of small deaths and caught breath. Mississippi. A single precious tear from Gods face, a single drop of blood from Gods slit wrist, dropped in th mud. Seemed the whole state was confused, she never understood that. How was all a God’s country so turned around? Sometimes she thought maybe it was in her eyes.

They were catching a bus Daddy said, but she didn’t figure as much. She held his hand, comforting him. Our Lady of Perpetual Grace was passed without so much as a spit. Daddy wouldn’t look at it. Catholics. Mostly we called em the harlot. She knew what a harlot was. She’d been one.

Grady was supposed to be around Carthage. Hard boys up there, Momma said. Last time he was around he gave Momma some of his teeth. They were always doing that type of thing. They hugs was long uns.

Katherine Robertine Elizabeth Toter-Cobb. We was all flummoxed by such a regal name. Mama has some history attached to it but she only showed us the peeking corners and dirty obscurities.

Momma stole books and burned them after ‘eating’ them. She’d whisper that it felt like eating anyway. She’d say this every time. Perhaps these were only time she wasn’t listing. Momma believed in divine winds. She wouldn’t ever fight em. She wanted a hero, so bad. Her favorites were the ones who died at the end. Nothing confusing about that.

Katy-Rob they called her. Daddy called Momma pretentious. Or pretty contentious. It was one of the only times she looked at him with love. I magine she thought it witty. I know I did. After that look she went on to the pharmacy and Daddy went to buy tickets. I caught up to her looking real intent on some new tennis shoes on this dude with a Cat hat n’ those damn sequined jeans.

Know when you gaze up and on a thing…cher, you change it?

I know that mama.

Oh youre so erudite, you.

What?

Momma was Acadian and though she was supposed to be so smart she talked just like everyone else, cept kinda dumber for that couy’on shit. In every picture I every saw of her she was showing her long white teeth, like she was trying to sell something. Later I came to see she was trying to prove to the world she wasn’t poor.

Id seen Mama do some sketchy shit, some wicked shit…one time she rented Grady out for 3 months. Stabbed a girl in Germantown outside a Memphis because she was too high. In the heat of demon attack mama looked sinistral, eyes seemed almost all black and shadows moved about her profile like they was alive. Face would be all fucked up. I hated looking at her like that. You just wanted to put yourself inbetween her and that.

I wote a poem for her. She loved to dance. Long lines a sweat in every right place. Everyone looked at her when she was dancing… like they everyone wanted to hump ’er…momma had dat juju.

We leak through the clicks you clock and mourn for the rocks we see carried about Demure with reverence but cannot rationalize just feel within as we all watch our loved ones spin to try and place an eye on the thing That produces the suffering and in this spinning habitual it metastasized into ritual and the dance in its ignorance is beautiful lenocinant sinistral

and i wish we could all be still

“Feet pue tan, mi amor”

Mama don’t cuss. Never would.

I loved lines like that. The whole lot of us lived on that line.

There wasn’t ever gonna be any bus, and she was startlingly not shamed by his lie. Heretics. Small feet kicked at a Fanta Orange. Katy-Rob couldn’t be sure if they was black or dirty so she looked up a bit. Confusing who was proper and who wasn’t. She’d heard some ministers ministerin’ on keeping birds with birds and cows with cows.

She wanted to scratch when she itched but she never did.

Holed up at the non-denominational she took a moment to do her 4th dailies while she watched the transactions. Time and money for peace of mind, she knew there was no equanimity in that purchase for how can you sell somin inside the body. Only time she felt that was in the rock and roll church’s, that precious theater inside her heart singing out the most amazing dance numbers. Gold and purple feelings. Like Mamma’s Tigers.

Bus trip in the none-to-crisp suit pocket, they stayed for the Wed. prayer meetin. “Lord, clarity!?” is all she heard.

She let em. In her mind she wouldn’t say any of them words, though she knew em all. Not anymore. School want ever much of an option. She imagined she’d gone some 86 days counting Sunday school. Down in Delta Daddy drove the pickers and Momma would help her people at the gin. She guessed they also make juniper liquor, but she had never seen anybody so much as talking too much.

Usually she let em. Long as Grady wasn’t in the county or parish.

Carthage

Inside of the pain management clinic Momma wagged a smidgen more than usual.

The Cave. Yeah she felt like she understood what that peasant man had been on about. Inside of her the beasts walked behind her eyes projecting outward before the flame. Spirit. It was in there, everyone cept the great harlot believed that, maybe the Jews too.

The connection with the nebulous. A shadow moving over the death waters. Spirit. All of us believed in it, we just didn’t know what it did exactly. People loved to say ‘god-bless’ or ‘Lord have mercy’ without any effect registerin’. To my mind that just made it a cuss word.

She loved the swamp. Would try and draw it out on some papers she kept in a plastic sack. She would rub the expensive paper between her fingers and something stirred. The cicadas song was richer there, the air tugged back, weightier somehow. She felt like her house would one day be in the swamp, clapboard painted green with mesh to keep out the critters but not else.

It sounded like a side of deboned meat being hit with a Louisville slugger, he’d been there and few people went around with bats. Guns mainly. Breaking his hand had been a salvation. He thought he’d found religion but he’d found instead a boy from Colombia. Alerts rang. Grady felt drugs were a last option. Open but last on line. Everyone he grew up with said “in line” but Grady was careful with his mastery of what he considered the only separation betwixt man and dog.

Manfreid Israel Romele was Russian. Perhaps German. Older. Beautiful. Cement blonde. How is a fighter so beautiful? Grady knew.

Smoldering halogen incense prayed for them. Pissing on the carhood altar.

The boy was a fucking nightmare. Glowed. Darkness. He’d seen it before. Everything was loose when he prayed, like the boy standing feet away, steam roiling off of his neck, with “Molon Labe” tatted across the front of his windpipe, where he got hit 45 seconds later.

The Chevelle was purple and Grady wouldn’t lean on it. Surrounding the Big Red Barn choking the purity of the moment were the ‘chickens’. Grady had said, ”clucking foul” but his folk just spit out the gumbo. Grady did not respect a man who watched blood-sports.

Ancient and comfortable. It was more than he could bear, of at time he would sit in the pot till he’d eatin it. A marvel of his power, kneeling on the commode in communion. Particles of hay and heat, cicada’s his private herald. Easy 220. Easy. Against his knees fabric calmed his fingers, he thought of his sister; the smile closed. He thought of Teddy on his horse, the pompous, articulate fool.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood…”

So fucking obvious, like ham-in-hand. Natchitoches. Ham-in-Hand Festival 94. You could walk across the Sabine on boats, smells of the Cajun Microwave’s buried in the soft loam some 100 paces from the water. Whole hogs stuffed with chickens and doves. Grady wondered if dogs trusted smell the way humans subscribed to sight. It was over tween them and he should have seen it. Grady looked coldly at his need. Only the slightest of scowls. Chemicals he thought, chemicals and blips.

He didn’t think it much, to go to war. He was plied with Mozi, Xenophon and 1st Chronicles 4:10 early. Daddy leaning over him and pointing to sketches momma had drawn to go with the Gideon Bible which was in constant circumlocution with others of its ilk. He always walked hunkered down, tied firmly to many things that were not tied to him.

She scuttled over the grooved Cyprus, kaleidoscope of man reduced, he saw her; languidly absorbing the violence to come. Beneath her impressive multi-spectacled visage was her load, atwitter. Looked of fine hairs in a sharp breeze, her brood beneath her belly. She leaned back as if to sit or box or pray, front legs circling in the direction of the bigger man’s dead face.

Lawd have a way, boy you ready?

The man was a fat, suspender framing a whet shirt with nowhere to go came up on Grady’s boy Ara too fast.

Ok we ready?

Ill kill you ifin you don’t step back.

Things was tight, Grady knew all bout this here.

Aight then.

Theys a bit a nonsense bout that bet?

No. Straight up.

Mine’ll be in money orda?

Ara’d get it after the fight now, cause I’ll be on my way, Briar Rabbit style, gros cul.

Fat man took on a greasy bugger as backward he moved, “that man fittin to fuck you.”

Tingle. Mmmmmmm. Grady felt like Ehud preparing to assassinate the fat king Eglon of Moab.

Hear that Schvartze, eer dat fat man.

God give me a verse. He chewed a small hangnail.

Ha. He knew it. 2 Kings 9:20, 20 The watchman [a]reported, “He came even to them, and he did not return; and the driving is like the driving of Jehu the son of Nimshi, for he drives furiously.”

The Lord gave this verse a lot.

Ehud and Jehu. Lawd have mercy son.

This boy was car black, and it really aint right, that type a black. That sheen of purple that made Grady think of dinosaurs and that painter Turner. Give em almost like invisibility at night. And nobody wants that shit. It’s like that shine you can see you’re reflection in… but it gives pause cause it’s a black you staring back. How fucking mad you’d be. Grady wouldn’t look at those shiny black cars, he even avoided dark purple.

Fat man giggled into his cerchief and sat down on a bale; he thought, looking toward the unimpressive white boy, that this’d be soon over.

Grady prayed a bit, squatted and thought of something like a dwarf star painted on a canvas the side of the barn.

He knew the boy’d come over the top and heavy, he knew hed move left and the boy’d come in with a quick step and a lunge at his knees. All the cat in that man was now cutting its way to the top. the breath was bull-like in intensity but shallow. The red rims mean he’s a drinker probably and he favored his left knee a bit. Grady felt sorry then. Sorry for his life and his momma, sorry for the man who was gonna try a kill him, sorry for the fat man who bet against his own kind, sorry that Mississippi water that he smelled on everything was growing less pungent. Sorry God was real and poetry was to hang him. Sometimes things seeded afor birth ripen when they aint wanted. He always felt tears was fine where laughter was.

They drummed him out of the military for being too young. Sure at that time it would be the catalyst for a life riding the dark horse, he considered killing himself but didn’t. Grady’d look in the mirror most days to check and see if it was time.

I read somewhere that poor people typically name their kids names like Unique, Kandy, Sherry and Amber. Later, I read somewhere that girls with some particular names wind up being hookers and dancers and in the porno’s. It bothered me it took two studies to not say that poor girls went to stripping a shade faster than rich ones. Academicians are so fucking stupid. Not only this but everyone knew that strippers changed their names. I thought then and think now I should be in charge of a hair more.

I guess I followed her around some. I remember the taste of bubble-gum scented shampoo and her face. We were protective of each other as should be expected. Daddy woednt too much of a provider, nor a daddy. I guess she burned out that wild streak cause she came back directly. “I wish I was in Dixie, hurrah hurrah In Dixie land Ill take my stand to live and die in Dixie. Oh way Oh way Oh way down south….. in Dixie.” She loved the word Dixie, long as I knew her though I believe she thought it more of a state of being, like glory or honor. She may ah never known it was holding all our heads under water. Grady knew all about it and loved it anyway. Some things just don’t figure. Soon as I could I got out. Not sure anyone else ever did, not really.

I remember him takin pictures of her holding onto a lit lighter and a squeeze bottle a lighter fluid. I remember when the men came in and he couldn’t protect us. He tried. Grady says, “tryin dyin.”

I read an article somewhere bad things happen to poorer people more often, it was more nuanced than that but that’s what I got. “Katy-Rob, bring us that phone.” “your cellular phone?” “We aint go no…little smart-alec.” She was always doin stuff like that. I couldn’t ever figure who she was making fun of, Daddy or this Democratic Republic. Maybe Jonny Locke. Momma was a Rhodes Scholar, I do not know how.

The slovenly way she met my laughter got her a lick. She called herself red velvet, not a nickname, her color. Said mamma was white as the driven snow cept a little Cocoa and a dash’a red food colorin. At a certain age I started realizing that I was gonna be mostly for myself, like my cousin Fay. I took to strippin like anybody’s business. First night in, this little Indian girl told me we do private parties, all naked. I couldn’t see much difference anyhow. It was illegitimate and the girls were indifferent to the men sucking on their titties and stuff. It just suited me fine.

I told Grady that he was to keep my little sister outta my world. There was only room in Carthage for one Cobb stripper.

The striker clicked down and something happened but it sure did not fire a round. White slipstream stepped quickly and quietly inside and hit the man with the gun in the throat. That noise is a thing. Everyone knew he’d done killed him. Grady remembered Niccki Bercham getting punched just so and dying. He guessed he coulda just knocked the gun away. Somewhere, someone was probably holding a little nigglet, waiting on daddy to call. It’d be a wait.

There were eight Cobbs all said but they slithered off, most of em anyway, to Bama and Nam and Peru. Doesn’t matter too much because once they left sight of the Mississippi River, they was good as dead.

Why’d they decide to try and kill him? Grady had a small warrant out on him that left the Boss little choice. That’s what I heard.

Theys four of us around and we all came. Amber, Bo, Katy, and me. Grady stood up from a Shaker stool he loved.

Grady said they’d maybe come for one of us.

They got Katy Rob two nights later, sent in her fron tooth wit they diamond set in it. Fucked up but shed done talked about rippin it out her own self.

Similies was supposed to be a real swanky joint but it was not. Owner by strategery has built a damn motel in the back. Lord have mercy, sulphur factory. I went to pills in the first month. Once you have gonna church and believe, shit gets real hard to do…after the first couple times anyway.

Grady wasn’t blood related to all the girls and he knew to divide his attentions. You cant just go around fighting the whole wrestling team. Amber was neck-tatted and out from around at 14. Our older cousins had done some strippin down on the redneck riveria and I reckon it called her harder’n dope.

Katy took to the hard life too but came back to me and Daddy, Momma and her never cared to talk to one another. She came back quieter and only wore beige and grey. She wrote long letters to Amber and cried some but I would have had her cry all the time if’n she’d just stay.

You’se too young buddy.

I knew you’d say that shit.,

Amber drove up in a fucking Infinity with something clanking under the jappy hood. I knew Grady wouldn’t even look at her, not even one time.

Amber and me gonna go talk to Joe-Block. See if we can figure something out.

There wasn’t any reason to hate Grady for being what he was but I had me a weapon too.

I never knew a way to complete the things that others completed. I reckon I’m slow or I ain’t totally grown up yet. Somin’. When I saw those men take Katy and beat Daddy, there was some sort of wet click and I seemed of a sudden to be able to see it all. The vast expanse and the precipitous nature of the wealthy and the bright. left us all killing each other over a double wide and an abortion.

I watched myself, knowin somehow I had made a decision that was about being a man, about being a Cobb n’ a Toten but there wasn’t anything movie about it. I stole a ladies cruiser out front a the Winn Dixie and played with myself all the way to Biloxi. I felt greasy and popped a pimple on my back. Somehow the Ruger felt lighter the further south we went, like it was becoming less offended by its own.

I was in love with the purity of my little brother. He would never talk to me in front of other people but in private he asked after my girlfriends and me. Once I got a bit too graphic and he white’nd up so I was sure he was gonna kill me. I think he’s still a virgin at 24.

I had made 1200. I have no damn clue where that fucking money is now. Jessie and I were working on a routine, she had this idea for a ‘concept piece’ with Moors and an allusion to the Hearst family but we just wound up kissing and smoking cigarettes till it was our turn.

They could see her now. More whispers to Letty, “This place gone turn out.”

“mmm”

“Im gone go bump th doe man and see if he got a piece.”

Letty smiled a ray of rancid rainbow.

5’1 or 5’3 he guessed. Wadnt no 5’2. Tatted up like her momma didn’t give a fuck. A little bump in his chest somewhere reminded him of another girl, another stripper, another piece of meat in the wily trades of men.

She caught his eye and may have winked, which sent Letty whom everyone called Lessy to the potty to laugh in the stall.

Men with huge dicks walk a bit different she whispered to a man sticking a 10 in her g. Lets the whole world who cares to know. The roxi’s in her were turning everything a little less than, like life was amped up but she was at regular speed. She kept seeing > signs. In the glass of the bowl, in her reflective panties, in her eyes in the cracke john mirra. Pulling his head she thought momentarily of licking his ear but these was Halliburton boys, fresh oft the rig and in Hub City to be jackass’s but not to take a good shower.

When she threw up the front row moved toward anywhere that wasn’t there. Same time a rukus in the commode and a gunshot out the back.

A week later a tall boy walks in and politely asks after Robert-Earl. No one really wanted to tell him.

Everything I did the hardest I ever done. I worked all my life with Daddy at whatever we was doing then so I always knowed I could throw a bale a bit harder than most. I was always taught to be polite even if they weren’t, so I thought Id just ask after Katys old boss. Figured with his lip Id go on ahead. His eye popped out with that first one, his ocular cavity crushed, and I walked toward the back looking at the mirrors for boys coming up on me. I know I punched some girls and I hope to high hell they aint no videotape a me but when it started in earnest it couldn’t be helped. I know one of em kissed me on the back of my neck while I was stomping on this colored boys. Heard later he got paralyzed some. Gottim a check anyway.

I learned that night why mama said them Carthage boys is hard. Robert-Earl. I had a drown his brother in front a him and it wernt no easy thing.

Amocitea

Your Daddy aint gonna recognize you.

Still that little girl. When under all of it, peach flame tripped along at the word. She wanted so much for him to swoop, it was pure. A clean thing, her vision of Daddy just doing what all real animals did. Maybe he was too human.

That golden blanket that she just expected to keep on being, didn’t; and she stepped out really believing that they was gentlemen in this South, in this here state. One night looking deep in her own eyes while everyone elses in the room were on her crotch she realized that this southern thang was a crock. She spected Margaret Mitchell probably just cold wishin like every other Dixie brat split-tail. It was a precious pity that she thought in that manner, she thought…probably affecting her self-image or the like.

She’s hurt I felt. Hurt people, hurt people but with such a swirlin tide, a man just got to decide when to jump in, not if.

Once I heard that Grady involved everybody in his business, I knew I hadda get us outta town. I didn’t really think Momm’d come wit her doctors here and whatever else she was into. Since Id come back from the Wilderness I had taken to wearing full length skirts and not shaving. I know my flesh well and I knew that just like this skirt, I could put it back on rrrrrreeeeeaaaalllllly quick. And that’s the plan, back to the hotel to make us some money.

Half-way from the bus-stop to the club I thought just maybe I was being a bit drastic, but I cant remember what my next thought was after that.

Bo adjusted the mirror on the 91 Olds to see if he’d indeed gotten dip on his collar. A birth canal in the back seat caused him to blink for a second longer than average. The strip-club owners Daddy used to be a Marine and it showed. Punching and biting his way out of the trunk into the car was a feat, Bo’d be the first to tell ya. He’d blindfolded, zip tied and hit the man with 75000 Watts but this Minotaur was now in the backseat. Fucking Carthaginians.

They realized quick they’d done fucked up with this one. She prayed aloud all day long, was unfailingly polite and every chance she got she tried to kill em. Lessy had knocked her tooth out purely on accident but after he reckoned the diamond to be fake, he sent it on to the boss. Almost all his spare time went to kittens. More had received some care from a witch the Dixie Mafia used for dogs. Little bitch had fought harder than any man ever would. In the end she’d ripped off a testicle and with that they put her in box. She calmly told em she couldn’t breath.

I hada shoot him through the seat and we wrecked. He was hurt even worse, so I lit a floor mat afire and ran off in the other directin than Angola, Fuck that, Daddy’d worked there as a guard for 3 days till they done found out he’d been in Parchman for vehicular homicide. Mamma said that great clouds a nephalim hung over those places. I couldn’t see them but I smelled em. Mamma and Katy-Rob always had eyes for that type of thing. Maybe they both lyin though.

I figured theyd run they dogs from around the car so I needed to get gone.

Did not like taken anything from white folks, I did not know how I was gonna pay for that ladies car I done wrecked but it’d get done. The little Kawasaki three wheeler cranked up nice and I left them my hunting license to show good faith.

You aint gonna believe this shit.

Francis-Jean Prichideaux III really could have done without hearing another person say that. It seemed to preface every comment. As a boy he’d felt something akin to the feeling he had now when other nut-brown Acadian boy’s ud say, “Wanna see something…hold my beer.”

Nothing good eva come outta dem type a commentary’s.

What?

Claudius came over with a note. Says here that Similies had another big da-doo.

Whan?

Last night.

Itd been 2 weeks since they colored boys come up in that terrible place and Blanc Bebbette got taken, now what dis shit?

Dixie Mafia used for dogs. Little bitch had fought harder than any man ever would. In the end she’d ripped off a testicle and with that they put her in box. She calmly told em she couldn’t breath. More heard, “I feel free.” thought long and hard about that medicine Melodina gave him, the plan was he was, of a time, to go back. ER out the wustion. She told him he could still sire a brood, if he chose.

Right now the chose was in nose. That moment, eternal, universal, when you know for certain that thing are bout to get lit.

I figured theyd run they dogs from around the car so I needed to get gone.

Did not like taken anything from white folks I did not know how I was gonna pay for that ladies car I done wrecked but it’d get done. The little Kawasaki three wheeler cranked up nice and I left them my hunting license to show good faith.

You aint gonna believe this shit.

Nothing good eva come outta dem type a commentary’s.

What?

Claudius came over with a note. Says here that Similies had another big da-doo.

Whan?

Last night.

Itd been 2 weeks since them colored boys come up in that terrible place and Blanc Bebbette got taken, now what dis shit? Least he didn’t have any crackers around to be yapping about…”oh what now you gonna do colored ssherrff”

The problem we have with God honey is related to expectations and not based in the hard VERITAS of life. See here, what happens when youo to church?

I listen to the preacher

Right, sure but when you’re singing a good Hallelujah song. Or something real once make you cry every time. That jut Him leeting us know that we are cared for.s like that one goes, “Lord You are more precious than silver…

Lord You are more costly than gold.

Together, “Lord You are more beautiful than diamonds.

And nothing I desire compares to You.”

Lord, honey you have a voice like angel blast-furnace. When you get that deep purple swell….

Purple and Gold.

Yesssa, and that is the real thing and it is a thing that belongs in this world yet has a hand fully in the next. But what you looking for there is that feeling to keep on keepin on.

Yessir.

But it don’t.

No.

Is that Gods problem or yours?

I feel like sometimes it is Him.

Cause you just go home and go straight to sinning.

And I wonder why in all His Greatness, I just can’t get a little help in that department.

But you care don’t ya?

I care a great deal. I expect it’s my conscience.

Yes. But a conscience ain’t a stopper, it’s just a fuse light indicator.

So then where’s the stopper?

That’s the catch.

Meaning its all up to me.

Honey, you ever look at a real life hero?

Maybe Rooster Carley?

Hmm. Ain’t none. He died 2000 years ago, therebouts. Now we just hunker down. Oh you gone sin. I’m gone sin. Yo Mamma, Lawd have a way. Its not about ‘not doin’ its about accepting your place in grace.

My place in grace.

From behind him mamma stepped, lightly, elegant specter. White on white on white, yet the air hovered lightly around it as if mistrusting. Mama’s essence was rebellion. Born with a dead twin boy, she lay never crying once in granny’s arms. Said she wouldn’t look nobody in the eye. They was alarmed from the get go. Mamma was said to have spent some of her teen years in Walnut Gove. She supposed to have found God in there, in the gladiator school. Once when she came home to the Shady Acres #3 after being out for a minute, she took me and we sat behind the dumpster; she told me about the first love of her life while she smoked up a cool bill a rock. Some people get all crazy scared of people on hard drugs, like they got special powers or summin. I ain’t but but a buck and change and I’m telling you I have cold knocked fuckers out who go too close. It’s best just to warn white folks up front, but when mamma slumming or Im at school and we dealing wit regular street niggas, I just stay loose, if mamma grab and go…then well, Im just down wit mine.

Oh Daddy.

I love my Daddy…

What are ya’ll ssscheming on. Lemme see your billfold.

Daddy’s trying to tell me all the war we got with sin is just an illusion.

Woman, that’s not what I said.

That we have to learn to accept our weakness as part of life. And personally for me, cause I listen to all them preachers and I read all them books and I pray on the Bible…I do it all with a knife in my belt and Im down for the clan but I do not wanna keep on living this way.

Ooh its one of them talks, you…what your daddy is remise in sharing is that there are other forces at work in this world.

NO.

Well talk later honey.

We never did.

I believe Mamma occupies some special place in this world, like a gold key that is made for just one lock, the most magnificent things await behind it; but you put that fucker in your back pocket with a handkerchief and they key is lost in the Misty Mountains. Myrrh and aloe and decay and female sex and the heat after summer rain and moss and Cyprus and dawn and linen white. Mamma mind was fine. Mammas body was the problem. She worshipped it to hurt her.

She saw a movie once at the Motel 6 in Latham Springs Texas called Jennifer’s Body, she said that though the metaphor was sloppy and the genre “totally LA” a poor excuse, yet she understood that somehow this connected us, because I was watching her becoming self aware.

Of an aspect only I believe, but a crack in the wall blinked a purple light in my eye and I realized that indeed “the affections of the heart are Divine”. If God dropped the veil once in a while, it somehow ran through my mother.

But even though I am slower than other folks, I can tell you that if Daddy believes that things are moving behind the scenes and mamma sees em too. Man, these things are making them worse…not better.

Man out of trunk

Boy wrecks.

Runs into St Francisville swamp

The kidnapping event

Tearing the tooth

Too much “arm” dead girl

Grady gets pickeup

Amber breaks him out

Bo meets someone unexpected

Daddys lie

Gradys brother is Robert Earl.

Daddys bet

Layerdown. from gods slit wrist Halogen Incense Daddy stopped when he left her car seat on the roof.

0 notes

readbookywooks · 8 years ago

Text

The House-elf Liberation Front

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went up to the Owlery that evening to find Pigwidgeon, so that Harry could send Sirius a letter telling him that he had managed to get past his dragon unscathed. On the way, Harry filled Ron in on everything Sirius had told him about Karkaroff. Though shocked at first to hear that Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, by the time they entered the Owlery Ron was saying that they ought to have suspected it all along. "Fits, doesn't it?" he said. "Remember what Malfoy said on the train, about his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup....I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here - I'll do it -" Pigwidgeon was so overexcited at the idea of a delivery he was flying around and around Harry's head, hooting incessantly. Ron snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and held him still while Harry attached the letter to his leg. There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?" Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. "You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harry, I'm serious." Harry knew that Ron was only saying this to make up for his behavior of the last few weeks, but he appreciated it all the same. Hermione, however, leaned against the Owlery wall, folded her arms, and frowned at Ron. "Harry's got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament," she said seriously. "If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next." "Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" said Ron. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime." He threw Pigwidgeon out of the window. Pigwidgeon plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again; the letter attached to his leg was much longer and heavier than usual - Harry hadn't been able to resist giving Sirius a blow-by-blow account of exactly how he had swerved, circled, and dodged the Horntail. They watched Pigwidgeon disappear into the darkness, and then Ron said, "Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party, Harry - Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now." Sure enough, when they entered the Gryffindor common room it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail's head on his Firebolt, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire. Harry helped himself to food; he had almost forgotten what it was like to feel properly hungry, and sat down with Ron and Hermione. He couldn't believe how happy he felt; he had Ron back on his side, he'd gotten through the first task, and he wouldn't have to face the second one for three months. "Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. "Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!" "He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules...." "I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too," Harry muttered, so only Hermione could hear him, and she grinned rather guiltily. "Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!" several people echoed. Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open. It was hollow and completely empty - but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. The nearest thing to it Harry had ever heard was the ghost orchestra at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party, who had all been playing the musical saw. "Shut it!" Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears. "What was that?" said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. "Sounded like a banshee...Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!" "It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!" "Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing...maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower. Harry." "Want a jam tart, Hermione?" said Fred. Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned. "It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch -" Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed. "Just my little joke, Neville...." Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, "Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?" "Yep," said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. "'anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful...get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish." "How do you get in there?" Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice. "Easy," said Fred, "concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and -" He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. "Why?" "Nothing," said Hermione quickly. "Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" said George. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?" Several people chortled. Hermione didn't answer. "Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" said Fred warningly. "You'll put them off their cooking!" Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary. "Oh - sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot - it was the custard creams we hexed -" Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing. "Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. "George and I invented them - seven Sickles each, a bargain!" It was nearly one in the morning when Harry finally went up to the dormitory with Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean. Before he pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut. Harry set his tiny model of the Hungarian Horntail on the table next to his bed, where it yawned, curled up, and closed its eyes. Really, Harry thought, as he pulled the hangings on his four-poster closed, Hagrid had a point...they were all right, really, dragons.... The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in winter. Harry was glad of its fires and thick walls every time he passed the Durmstrang ship on the lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. He thought the Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly too. Hagrid, he noticed, was keeping Madame Maxime's horses well provided with their preferred drink of single-malt whiskey; the fumes wafting from the trough in the comer of their paddock was enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class light-headed. This was unhelpful, as they were still tending the horrible skrewts and needed their wits about them. "I'm not sure whether they hibernate or not," Hagrid told the shivering class in the windy pumpkin patch next lesson. "Thought we'd jus' try an see if they fancied a kip...we'll jus' settle 'em down in these boxes...." There were now only ten skrewts left; apparently their desire to kill one another had not been exercised out of them. Each of them was now approaching six feet in length. Their thick gray armor; their powerful, scuttling legs; their fire-blasting ends; their stings and their suckers, combined to make the skrewts the most repulsive things Harry had ever seen. The class looked dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets. "We'll jus' lead 'em in here," Hagrid said, "an' put the lids on, and we'll see what happens." But the skrewts, it transpired, did not hibernate, and did not appreciate being forced into pillow-lined boxes and nailed in. Hagrid was soon yelling, "Don panic, now, don' panic!" while the skrewts rampaged around the pumpkin patch, now strewn with the smoldering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class - Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the lead - had fled into Hagrid's cabin through the back door and barricaded themselves in; Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were among those who remained outside trying to help Hagrid. Together they managed to restrain and tie up nine of the skrewts, though at the cost of numerous burns and cuts; finally, only one skrewt was left. "Don' frighten him, now!" Hagrid shouted as Ron and Harry used their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the skrewt, which was advancing menacingly on them, its sting arched, quivering, over its back. "Jus' try an slip the rope 'round his sting, so he won hurt any o' the others!" "Yeah, we wouldn't want that!" Ron shouted angrily as he and Harry backed into the wall of Hagrid's cabin, still holding the skrewt off with their sparks. "Well, well, well...this does look like fun." Rita Skeeter was leaning on Hagrid's garden fence, looking in at the mayhem. She was wearing a thick magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm. Hagrid launched himself forward on top of the skrewt that was cornering Harry and Ron and flattened it; a blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the pumpkin plants nearby. "Who're you?" Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter as he slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt's sting and tightened it. "Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter," Rita replied, beaming at him. Her gold teeth glinted. "Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore," said Hagrid, frowning slightly as he got off the slightly squashed skrewt and started tugging it over to its fellows. Rita acted as though she hadn't heard what Hagrid had said. "What are these fascinating creatures called?" she asked, beaming still more widely. "Blast-Ended Skrewts," grunted Hagrid. "Really?" said Rita, apparently full of lively interest. "I've never heard of them before...where do they come from?" Harry noticed a dull red flush rising up out of Hagrid's wild black beard, and his heart sank. Where had Hagrid got the skrewts from? Hermione, who seemed to be thinking along these lines, said quickly, "They're very interesting, aren't they? Aren't they. Harry?" "What? Oh yeah...ouch...interesting," said Harry as she stepped on his foot. "Ah, you're here. Harry!" said Rita Skeeter as she looked around. "So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?" "Yes," said Harry stoutly. Hagrid beamed at him. "Lovely," said Rita. "Really lovely. Been teaching long?" she added to Hagrid. Harry noticed her eyes travel over Dean (who had a nasty cut across one cheek). Lavender (whose robes were badly singed), Seamus (who was nursing several burnt fingers), and then to the cabin windows, where most of the class stood, their noses pressed against the glass waiting to see if the coast was clear. "This is o'ny me second year," said Hagrid. "Lovely...I don't suppose you'd like to give an interview, would you? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could feature these - er - Bang-Ended Scoots." "Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid said eagerly. "Er - yeah, why not?" Harry had a very bad feeling about this, but there was no way of communicating it to Hagrid without Rita Skeeter seeing, so he had to stand and watch in silence as Hagrid and Rita Skeeter made arrangements to meet in the Three Broomsticks for a good long interview later that week. Then the bell rang up at the castle, signaling the end of the lesson. "Well, good-bye, Harry!" Rita Skeeter called merrily to him as he set off with Ron and Hermione. "Until Friday night, then, Hagrid!" "She'll twist everything he says," Harry said under his breath. "Just as long as he didn't import those skrewts illegally or anything," said Hermione desperately. They looked at one another - it was exactly the sort of thing Hagrid might do. "Hagrid's been in loads of trouble before, and Dumbledores never sacked him," said Ron consolingly. "Worst that can happen is Hagrid'll have to get rid of the skrewts. Sorry...did I say worst? I meant best." Harry and Hermione laughed, and, feeling slightly more cheerful, went off to lunch. Harry thoroughly enjoyed double Divination that afternoon; they were still doing star charts and predictions, but now that he and Ron were friends once more, the whole thing seemed very funny again. Professor Trelawney, who had been so pleased with the pair of them when they had been predicting their own horrific deaths, quickly became irritated as they sniggered through her explanation of the various ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life. "I would think," she said, in a mystical whisper that did not conceal her obvious annoyance, "that some of us" - she stared very meaningfully at Harry- "might be a little less frivolous had they seen what I have seen during my crystal gazing last night. As I sat here, absorbed in my needlework, the urge to consult the orb overpowered me. I arose, I settled myself before it, and I gazed into its crystalline depths...and what do you think I saw gazing back at me?" "An ugly old bat in outsize specs?" Ron muttered under his breath. Harry fought hard to keep his face straight. "Death, my dears." Parvati and Lavender both put their hands over their mouths, looking horrified. "Yes," said Professor Trelawney, nodding impressively, "it comes, ever closer, it circles overhead like a vulture, ever lower...ever lower over the castle...." She stared pointedly at Harry, who yawned very widely and obviously. "It'd be a bit more impressive if she hadn't done it about eighty times before," Harry said as they finally regained the fresh air of the staircase beneath Professor Trelawney's room. "But if I'd dropped dead every time she's told me I'm going to, I'd be a medical miracle." "You'd be a sort of extra-concentrated ghost," said Ron, chortling, as they passed the Bloody Baron going in the opposite direction, his wide eyes staring sinisterly. "At least we didn't get homework. I hope Hermione got loads off Professor Vector, I love not working when she is...." But Hermione wasn't at dinner, nor was she in the library when they went to look for her afterward. The only person in there was Viktor Krum. Ron hovered behind the bookshelves for a while, watching Krum, debating in whispers with Harry whether he should ask for an autograph - but then Ron realized that six or seven girls were lurking in the next row of books, debating exactly the same thing, and he lost his enthusiasm for the idea. "Wonder where she's got to?" Ron said as he and Harry went back to Gryffindor Tower. "Dunno...balderdash." But the Fat Lady had barely begun to swing forward when the sound of racing feet behind them announced Hermione's arrival. "Harry!" she panted, skidding to a halt beside him (the Fat Lady stared down at her, eyebrows raised). "Harry, you've got to come - you've got to come, the most amazing thing's happened - please -" She seized Harry's arm and started to try to drag him back along the corridor. "What's the matter?" Harry said. "I'll show you when we get there - oh come on, quick -" Harry looked around at Ron; he looked back at Harry, intrigued. "Okay," Harry said, starting off back down the corridor with Hermione, Ron hurrying to keep up. "Oh don't mind me!" the Fat Lady called irritably after them. "Don't apologize for bothering me! I'll just hang here, wide open, until you get back, shall I?" "Yeah, thanks!" Ron shouted over his shoulder. "Hermione, where are we going?" Harry asked, after she had led them down through six floors, and started down the marble staircase into the entrance hall. "You'll see, you'll see in a minute!" said Hermione excitedly. She turned left at the bottom of the staircase and hurried toward the door through which Cedric Diggory had gone the night after the Goblet of Fire had regurgitated his and Harry's names. Harry had never been through here before. He and Ron followed Hermione down a flight of stone steps, but instead of ending up in a gloomy underground passage like the one that led to Snape's dungeon, they found themselves in a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food. "Oh hang on..." said Harry slowly, halfway down the corridor. "Wait a minute, Hermione...." "What?" She turned around to look at him, anticipation all over her face. "I know what this is about," said Harry. He nudged Ron and pointed to the painting just behind Hermione. It showed a gigantic silver fruit bowl. "Hermione!" said Ron, cottoning on. "You're trying to rope us into that spew stuff again!" "No, no, I'm not!" she said hastily. "And it's not spew, Ron -" "Changed the name, have you?" said Ron, frowning at her. "What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation Front? I'm not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work, I'm not doing it -" "I'm not asking you to!" Hermione said impatiently. "I came down here just now, to talk to them all, and I found - oh come on, Harry, I want to show you!" She seized his arm again, pulled him in front of the picture of the giant fruit bowl, stretched out her forefinger, and tickled the huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle. Hermione seized it, pulled the door open, and pushed Harry hard in the back, forcing him inside. He had one brief glimpse of an enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end, when something small hurtled toward him from the middle of the room, squealing, "Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!" Next second all the wind had been knocked out of him as the squealing elf hit him hard in the midriff, hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs would break. "D-Dobby?" Harry gasped. "It is Dobby, sir, it is!" squealed the voice from somewhere around his navel. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!" Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming up at Harry, his enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes brimming with tears of happiness. He looked almost exactly as Harry remembered him; the pencil-shaped nose, the batlike ears, the long fingers and feet - all except the clothes, which were very different. When Dobby had worked for the Malfoys, he had always worn the same filthy old pillowcase. Now, however, he was wearing the strangest assortment of garments Harry had ever seen; he had done an even worse job of dressing himself than the wizards at the World Cup. He was wearing a tea cozy for a hat, on which he had pinned a number of bright badges; a tie patterned with horseshoes over a bare chest, a pair of what looked like children's soccer shorts, and odd socks. One of these, Harry saw, was the black one Harry had removed from his own foot and tricked Mr. Malfoy into giving Dobby, thereby setting Dobby free. The other was covered in pink and orange stripes. "Dobby, what're you doing here?" Harry said in amazement. "Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!" Dobby squealed excitedly. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir! "Winky?" said Harry. "She's here too?" "Yes, sir, yes!" said Dobby, and he seized Harry's hand and pulled him off into the kitchen between the four long wooden tables that stood there. Each of these tables, Harry noticed as he passed them, was positioned exactly beneath the four House tables above, in the Great Hall. At the moment, they were clear of food, dinner having finished, but he supposed that an hour ago they had been laden with dishes that were then sent up through the ceiling to their counterparts above. At least a hundred little elves were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing, and curtsying as Dobby led Harry past them. They were all wearing the same uniform: a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest, and tied, as Winky's had been, like a toga. Dobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and pointed. "Winky, sir!" he said. Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, she had obviously not foraged for clothes. She was wearing a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her large ears. However, while every one of Dobby's strange collection of garments was so clean and well cared for that it looked brand-new, Winky was plainly not taking care other clothes at all. There were soup stains all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt. "Hello, Winky," said Harry. Winky's lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, which spilled out of her great brown eyes and splashed down her front, just as they had done at the Quidditch World Cup. "Oh dear," said Hermione. She and Ron had followed Harry and Dobby to the end of the kitchen. "Winky, don't cry, please don't..." But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the other hand, beamed up at Harry. "Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?" he squeaked loudly, over Winky's sobs. "Er - yeah, okay," said Harry. Instantly, about six house-elves came trotting up behind him, bearing a large silver tray laden with a teapot, cups for Harry, Ron, and Hermione, a milk jug, and a large plate of biscuits. "Good service!" Ron said, in an impressed voice. Hermione frowned at him, but the elves all looked delighted; they bowed very low and retreated. "How long have you been here, Dobby?" Harry asked as Dobby handed around the tea. "Only a week. Harry Potter, sir!" said Dobby happily. "Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed -" At this, Winky howled even harder, her squashed-tomato of a nose dribbling all down her front, though she made no effort to stem the flow. "Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!" Dobby squeaked. "But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!" The house-elves all around the kitchen, who had been listening and watching with interest, all looked away at these words, as though Dobby had said something rude and embarrassing. Hermione, however, said, "Good for you, Dobby!" "Thank you, miss!" said Dobby, grinning toothily at her. "But most wizards doesn't want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. 'That's not the point of a house-elf,' they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid. Harry Potter....Dobby likes being free!" The Hogwarts house-elves had now started edging away from Dobby, as though he were carrying something contagious. Winky, however, remained where she was, though there was a definite increase in the volume other crying. "And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed too, sir!" said Dobby delightedly. At this, Winky flung herself forward off her stool and lay face-down on the flagged stone floor, beating her tiny fists upon it and positively screaming with misery. Hermione hastily dropped down to her knees beside her and tried to comfort her, but nothing she said made the slightest difference. Dobby continued with his story, shouting shrilly over Winky's screeches. "And then Dobby had the idea. Harry Potter, sir! 'Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?' Dobby says. 'Where is there enough work for two house-elves?' says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!" Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again. "And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!" "That's not very much!" Hermione shouted indignantly from the floor, over Winky's continued screaming and fist-beating. "Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off," said Dobby, suddenly giving a little shiver, as though the prospect of so much leisure and riches were frightening, "but Dobby beat him down, miss....Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, miss, he likes work better." "And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, Winky?" Hermione asked kindly. If she had thought this would cheer up Winky, she was wildly mistaken. Winky did stop crying, but when she sat up she was glaring at Hermione through her massive brown eyes, her whole face sopping wet and suddenly furious. "Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!" she squeaked. "Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!" "Ashamed?" said Hermione blankly. "But - Winky, come on! It's Mr. Crouch who should be ashamed, not you! You didn't do anything wrong, he was really horrible to you -" But at these words, Winky clapped her hands over the holes in her hat, flattening her ears so that she couldn't hear a word, and screeched, "You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr. Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!" "Winky is having trouble adjusting, Harry Potter," squeaked Dobby confidentially. "Winky forgets she is not bound to Mr. Crouch anymore; she is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won't do it." "Can't house-elves speak their minds about their masters, then?" Harry asked. "Oh no, sir, no," said Dobby, looking suddenly serious. "'Tis part of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir. We upholds the family's honor, and we never speaks ill of them - though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to - to -" Dobby looked suddenly nervous and beckoned Harry closer. Harry bent forward. Dobby whispered, "He said we is free to call him a - a barmy old codger if we likes, sir!" Dobby gave a frightened sort of giggle. "But Dobby is not wanting to, Harry Potter," he said, talking normally again, and shaking his head so that his ears flapped. "Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him." "But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?" Harry asked him, grinning. A slightly fearful look came into Dobby's immense eyes. "Dobby - Dobby could," he said doubtfully. He squared his small shoulders. "Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old masters were - were - bad Dark wizards!" Dobby stood for a moment, quivering all over, horror-struck by his own daring - then he rushed over to the nearest table and began banging his head on it very hard, squealing, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" Harry seized Dobby by the back of his tie and pulled him away from the table. "Thank you. Harry Potter, thank you," said Dobby breathlessly, rubbing his head. "You just need a bit of practice," Harry said. "Practice!" squealed Winky furiously. "You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!" "They isn't my masters anymore, Winky!" said Dobby defiantly. "Dobby doesn't care what they think anymore!" "Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!" moaned Winky, tears leaking down her face once more. "My poor Mr. Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me, he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her...oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!" She buried her face in her skirt again and bawled. "Winky," said Hermione firmly, "I'm quite sure Mr. Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. We've seen him, you know -" "You is seeing my master?" said Winky breathlessly, raising her tearstained face out of her skirt once more and goggling at Hermione. "You is seeing him here at Hogwarts?" "Yes," said Hermione, "he and Mr. Bagman are judges in the Triwizard Tournament." "Mr. Bagman comes too?" squeaked Winky, and to Harry 's great surprise (and Ron's and Hermione's too, by the looks on their faces), she looked angry again. "Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh no, not at all!" "Bagman - bad?" said Harry. "Oh yes," Winky said, nodding her head furiously, "My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky is not saying...Winky - Winky keeps her master's secrets...." She dissolved yet again in tears; they could hear her sobbing into her skirt, "Poor master, poor master, no Winky to help him no more!" They couldn't get another sensible word out of Winky. They left her to her crying and finished their tea, while Dobby chatted happily about his life as a free elf and his plans for his wages. "Dobby is going to buy a sweater next, Harry Potter!" he said happily, pointing at his bare chest. "Tell you what, Dobby," said Ron, who seemed to have taken a great liking to the elf, "I'll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from her. You don't mind maroon, do you?" Dobby was delighted. "We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you," Ron told him, "but it'll go well with your tea cozy." As they prepared to take their leave, many of the surrounding elves pressed in upon them, offering snacks to take back upstairs. Hermione refused, with a pained look at the way the elves kept bowing and curtsying, but Harry and Ron loaded their pockets with cream cakes and pies. "Thanks a lot!" Harry said to the elves, who had all clustered around the door to say good night. "See you, Dobby!" "Harry Potter...can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?" Dobby asked tentatively. " 'Course you can," said Harry, and Dobby beamed. "You know what?" said Ron, once he, Hermione, and Harry had left the kitchens behind and were climbing the steps into the entrance hall again. "All these years I've been really impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens - well, it's not exactly difficult, is it? They can't wait to give it away!" "I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know," said Hermione, leading the way back up the marble staircase. "Dobby coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and slowly it'll dawn on them that they want that too!" "Let's hope they don't look too closely at Winky," said Harry. "Oh she'll cheer up," said Hermione, though she sounded a bit doubtful. "Once the shock's worn off, and she's got used to Hogwarts, she'll see how much better off she is without that Crouch man." "She seems to love him," said Ron thickly (he had just started on a cream cake). "Doesn't think much of Bagman, though, does she?" said Harry. "Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?" "Probably says he's not a very good Head of Department," said Hermione, "and let's face it...he's got a point, hasn't he?" "I'd still rather work for him than old Crouch," said Ron. "At least Bagman's got a sense of humor." "Don't let Percy hear you saying that," Hermione said, smiling slightly. "Yeah, well, Percy wouldn't want to work for anyone with a sense of humor, would he?" said Ron, now starting on a chocolate eclair. "Percy wouldn't recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby's tea cozy."

#GobletofFire #HarryPotter

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