#but there’s always space in my heart for newsies

[jasperscringepit]

Hello newsies tumblr, I’m so back.

I heard punk au, I activated like a sleeper agent

Shitty background ver. here as well :)

hey anyone who likes punk au newsies can u plz draw this image but as jack and les or david and les plz plz plz im begging you it would heal me

[sarahjacobs]

“If I’ve done my job right, it makes a statement that’s bigger than the newsies,” [Fierstein] said. “It’s about a bunch of kids changing the world, about handing over the world to a new generation.”

[source]

i find this quote fascinating because fierstein seems to imply that the 92 film didn’t “[make] a statement that's bigger than the newsies,” which is why he changed the framing of the strike from being about the rich vs the poor to the young vs the old. from a class struggle to a generational divide. and i really want to take this opportunity to think through newsies through a politically nihilist lens, keeping in mind that a) i don't think the film is a perfect political text either, nor do i believe such a thing is possible, and b) this is a springboard of sorts to critique a broader pattern of how leftist movements and history are represented and talked about.

katherine often unfairly catches a lot of flak when this thematic overhaul is critiqued, but the issue doesn’t lie in katherine’s inclusion. it’s more about how she was written to say things like “their mistake is they got old,” in conjunction with how the writers cut out every adult ally who wasn’t medda and roosevelt (and slotted in hannah to replace seitz as the sole advisor who pushes back against the price hike). denton was cut, of course. and sure, the trolley workers still serve as inspiration for the newsie strike, but we don’t actually see them like we did in 92. mayer, who is similarly used as a reason to strike (“if your father had a union, you wouldn’t be out here sellin’ papes right now”) but isn’t shown. the mention of his overwhelming support for the strike was also cut.

it’s even in the little things. compare and contrast the small moment in which, after denton bails the newsies out, a waiter tries to refuse when denton gives him money to cover their food expenses, to how on broadway, jacobi still charges two cents for seltzer, then shoos the newsies away to make room for paying customers.

(also i would be remiss if i didn’t at least briefly talk about how sarah was cut entirely, not even a passing mention reserved for her. and while her potential was never fully realized in 92, the fact that sarah, a child laborer who worked in the garment industry, helped produce and distribute the newsies banner feels significant to me in further marking the transition from a purely newsie strike to a more generalized children’s strike.)

additionally, more dialogue and lyrics that criticize adults were written in. and to be fair, there’s a trace of this in 92, as they sing, “and the torch is passed,” as well as “and the old will fall / and the young stand tall” in twwk (i believe these are the only instances of this). but on broadway, it is wayyy more recurring and explicit. i’m not going to list them all out because the only instance i actually want to talk about in depth is this —

ROOSEVELT: (recognizing this historical moment) Each generation must, at the height of its power, step aside and invite the young to share the day. You have laid claim to our world and I believe the future, in your hands, will be bright and prosperous.

— which is a deeply revealing line, one that shows the progressivist heart of the broadway production. and by progressivism, i mean the myth that history is a linear story of progress, and no matter what, we are always marching towards a brighter future. as bædan argues, politics revolve around futurity, which revolves around the image of the Child — think of how often children are evoked in politics as an unassuming, blank slate that deserve unique protection from evil. in left wing spaces, this is often expressed in the desire to improve the world for future generations; “the future is kid stuff,” as lee edelman claims.

but the Child, futurity, and progressivism are all problematic — it's a kind of cruel optimism. these ideas ask people to be content with horrifying conditions today, and with bitterly disappointing reformism, because progress is slow while simultaneously being certain. and yet the future, and the utopia it promises, is always hovering on the horizon… but never within reach. all of this points to a general “[misrecognition of] promise as an achievement.”

i would also argue that anything that uncritically valorizes youth movements, or the Youth more generally, plays into this. and don’t get me wrong, youth liberation is a real thing, and the age of the newsies and katherine does play a role in how they’re perceived (“i'm young, i ain't stupid”). but resistance is always delegitimized, most often by discounting them as violent, illegal, or outside agitators... and flatly rendering the conflict of newsies into a matter of age obfuscates precisely what they are struggling against — complex power structures that privilege the upper class and men. as mayer and the trolley workers show, it doesn’t really matter if they’re kids or adults, the newsies would still be crushed under the heel of the boss because they’re workers, doubly so because they’re poor.

and being young, just like the future, doesn’t guarantee anything, least of all a kind of politic. young people aren’t exempt from engaging in and replicating harmful dynamics. many are privileged in some way — because of their whiteness, class, gender, etc — or they’re desperate to attain privilege. and as a result, they have a vested interest in the uninterrupted existence of varying systems of domination, rather than its abolition. take the delanceys, who are around jack’s age, and yet they’re actively involved in breaking the strike. their age doesn’t automatically guarantee their allyship; as hired muscle, or “rent a cops,” they act in favor of protecting capital and the state, as all cops do.

too often movements populated by young faces are turned into feel good spectacles of how “the kids are alright,” that these so called revolutionaries are going to be the leaders of tomorrow, and how the future therefore looks “bright and prosperous,” to borrow roosevelt’s words. but implicit in this messaging is not only the continuance of the current social order, which is fucked and rotten to the core and needs to be destroyed, but the Youth assimilating and integrating into these systems.

take a look at how the skills jack used to rebel (his charisma and art) were met with repression at first but praised and rewarded at the end.

PULITZER: (to JACK) I can’t help thinking… if one of your drawings convinced the governor to close The Refuge, what might a daily political cartoon do to expose the dealings in our own government back rooms?

it’s worth noting the framing of this job offer — jack is not only being given a chance to climb the professional ladder, but he's specifically being hired to use his artistic skills for what essentially amounts to activism. and i use the term activism critically; it packages resistance, something anyone can do, into a specialized/professionalized role, a class of people separate from ordinary people. this makes it similar to a job, or, in jack's case, an actual salaried position. and as “give up activism” points out, all of this renders activism an “accepted form of dissent.”

additionally, jack using the world as an outlet for his discontent with the current state of affairs automatically defangs him. after all, how much social change can jack really push for in the inherently exploitative context of a worker-boss relationship? how effective can jack really be when his ideas are mediated to the public via a company like the world, which ordered a news blackout of the strike and used its wealth and power to violently crackdown on the newsies? that concerns itself with whether or not its papers are marketable to the masses and therefore profitable? anything jack publishes will have to go through a process of approval, filtered through a boss who derisively calls roosevelt a socialist, then a communist. this means jack can continue to publish his drawings, continue his activism, so long as he’s not threatening the interests of the world. what a huge constraint!

more broadly speaking, integration and assimilation can be seen in the recurring idea of power being transferred throughout newsies — from “just look around at the world we’re inheriting / and think of the one we’ll create,” to “you’re getting too old, too weak to keep holding on / a new world is gunning for you, and joe, we is too.” and finally, roosevelt claiming that the future “in your hands,” as in, under your leadership, is bright. but i take issue with the very notion of power, of leadership itself. as katherine quotes, “power tends to corrupt,” and while she proposes that corruption can be avoided so long as “[we] stay young forever,” having youthful, friendly faces in positions of power is meaningless when the very systems that facilitated any abuse of power are allowed to persist.

i want to close this out with an excerpt from serafinski's blessed is the flame:

The “progress of society” might be better described as the “evolution of systems of power,” and as Bædan reminds us: “any progressive development can only mean a more sophisticated system of misery and exploitation.”

think of the differences and similarities between the 1899 that newsies portrays and where we stand now. how history has been an unceasing transfer of power between generations, by virtue of the previous one dying out. and yet misogyny still prevails in the workforce and in everyday life, workers remain exploited, police continue to be employed against any social unrest, and the prison industrial complex has only expanded. have we really improved?

[bow-of-aros]

Day Eight: Nuzzles

Summary: Crutchie couldn't have asked for a better end to a better day, and Jack always makes sure that he's smiling.

-

Hey folks! A Jack and Crutchie fic was honestly inevitable, and I just think that they're so cute and they care about each other so much. I hope that y'all enjoy this one <33

-

It had been a great day for selling. The weather was nice, the people were in a good mood, Crutchie’s leg was barely bothering him, and he hadn’t even had to make up a new headline! The buyers had been extra generous, or maybe they’d just felt extra bad for the poor crippled boy that day, Crutchie didn’t really care which one it was when he’d managed to pocket a whole extra dollar on top of the thirty cents he’d need to buy his fifty papes tomorrow!

He lets himself ride the high of a job well done all the way up to the rooftop, propping his crutch against the railing as he dangles his feet off the edge, taking in the sight of New York going about its evening.

After a while, Crutchie can hear the tell-tale sound of Jack’s voice as he makes his last rounds, telling all the boys to stay out of trouble.

Jack’s a natural leader, Crutchie’s known it ever since the moment he first heard his voice. It’s loud, it takes up space. And it isn’t loud for the sake of being loud like most of the other guys here. When Jack speaks, it always sounds like he’s saying something important, something worth listening to.

He’s charismatic and his voice carries over the rooftops, so Crutchie can hear Jack say to Race,

“Wouldya keep an eye on Romeo and Elmer tonight? I have a feeling that they’re itching to get into some trouble.”

Crutchie’s sure that Race says something in return, likely accompanied by a salute featuring his trademark cigar, but it doesn’t quite carry up to where he’s sitting.

On the other hand, maybe Crutchie’s just more attuned to Jack’s voice than anything else.

The clanging sound that always accompanies Jack scrambling up the ladder pulls him out of his thoughts just in time to see a grinning, ink-stained face pop up over the edge of their so-called penthouse.

“Hey Crutchie! How was selling today?” He speaks as he hauls himself up the final few rungs and plops down rather unceremoniously next to the younger boy, “Is your leg giving you any trouble? Didja get enough food? Do I need to rough anyone up for you? Because I will!”

Crutchie’s learned to not take all the questions to heart. At first, he’d thought that it was Jack thinking that he couldn’t take care of himself, and it was only after a very stern talking-to that he’d realized that Jack was just like that.

No wonder he was the leader of the Manhattan newsies, he was basically everyone’s mother.

“Heya Jack, selling was great, actually!” Crutchie started ticking off the answer to Jack’s questions on his fingers, “No, my leg’s not giving me trouble. Yes, I got enough food. And no, you don’t need to rough anyone up for me. The Delanceys decided to leave well enough alone today so you can stop your mother henning!”

Jack presses a hand to his chest in mock offense, “Mother henning?! Is it really mother henning if I just want to make sure you had a good day?”

“Nah, ‘course not.”

“Good,” Jack said, leaning more firmly against Crutchie’s side.

“Mom.”

“Why you little—”

And Jack slung an arm across Crutchie’s shoulder to reel him in close, using his other hand to ruffle his hair until Crutchie was laughing and half-heartedly trying to push him away.

It’s nice, Crutchie thought as Jack let up and hooked his chin over his shoulder, just appreciating the little things. The sunset over the New York skyline, spending time with his family after a good day, laughing like they had no cares in the world.

Soft hair brushed against his neck as Jack nuzzled in closer and, “Hehey, knock it off!”

“Knock what off?”

“You know.”

Jack only responded by moving in closer, trapping Crutchie against his chest when he tried to squirm away and rubbing a lightly stubbled cheek against his neck.

“Jahahack!” He whined through his laughter, “You need to shahahave!”

Scrunching up his shoulders did nothing, only inviting gentle prodding against his sides as Crutchie fell back into Jack, giggling brightly all the while.

Jack lets off after a few moments with a, “Alright kid, I think you’ve had enough. Now, hold still so I can sketch ya!” He trails off for a moment, reaching for his sketchbook and muttering, “I wish that I could keep you this happy forever, but a picture’s gonna have to do.”

Crutchie lets himself settle back against the bars of their penthouse, a soft smile lingering on his face as he watches his best friend—no, his brother—flip open to a blank page and begin smudging charcoal all over it.

He’s never been able to figure out how Jack can create something beautiful off of a blank page, but as his tongue sticks out in concentration and his eyes flicker up to meet Crutchie’s every so often, he just counts himself lucky to be considered worthy of a piece of art.

[justsomekpopstuff]

ateez as male musical characters (according to me)

A/N: Please remember that this is my opinion, so please be nice. Also I promise that I AM working on Stray Kids as D&D Characters its just taking me a while. Enjoy!

current masterlist | fic recs

Seonghwa: Baron Von Trapp, The Sound of Music

Hear me out - He's poised, organized, clean, and well-put together at all times. However, he secretly does have quite the interesting, fun-loving side. He prefers organization, but is also full of love and creativity that isn't always apparent to everyone. He is strong in his ideals and values, with a soft side for those he loves.

Hongjoong: Orpheus, Hadestown

He is focused and creative, but often times gets too immersed in his work. He gets so immersed to the point where he will forget to care for himself and those around him. However, that doesn't mean he does not love them - in fact, he cares incredibly deeply for those he loves. He will do anything to make sure that they are okay and that they get back on track, even though there may be doubt setting in.

Yunho: Jack Kelly, Newsies

He's a little flirtatious, a little goofy, and also willing to do anything to protect those around him and keep them safe. He really is a leader in his own right even if not many always see it. He really loves pushing people’s buttons if given any space and opportunity, but he also loves pushing for change and making things better for those around him.

Yeosang: Seymour, Little Shop of Horrors

Bless him, he's so quiet and sweet. He really cares deeply for those around him even often at his own expense. He can often be too nice for his own good sometimes but it is so hard to not love him. Yeosang, I feel, makes sure the people around him feel the love at all times, even if his methods are unconventional.

San: Christian, Moulin Rouge

San really loves so deeply with all of his heart. He feels like a hopeless romantic that will love who he does until even after they have gone away, and even more after that. He is a loyal and dedicated lover and friend to those he holds dear. He would also sing instead of talk at all times if given the chance, and would feel heartbreak on an intense level that not many can comprehend.

Mingi: Roger, Rent

He feels so many emotions all the time and uses music as an outlet when words otherwise. He wants to leave a legacy to the world but feels overwhelmed with the pressure to make it perfect. He loves too much and it kind of scares him sometimes. He also tends to doubt his success despite having the people around him giving him support. He is also a certified Rock Star/Emo King™️

Wooyoung: Fiyero, Wicked

We all know he's a little sassy, flirty, and a bit of a shit-stirrer sometimes. But, when he sets his mind to what he cares about, he will do anything and everything possible to achieve his goals. When he loves someone, he loves them with his whole heart and will happily sacrifice himself for them at any cost - a love that is truly hard to ignore and hard to come by.

Jongho: J.D., Heathers

Again, hear me out - He regularly has a lot of things going on in his head, so much that he often can't say. He often takes things into his own hands, which can be a bit intense even to him. He comes off composed and deep, but internally may be a chaotic mess sometimes. He is also spooked by affection from others, and it takes him a while to show his true colors (for Jongho irl, his true colors are beautiful, unlike J.D. who is...not that - that's a difference).

[seepylilthing]

Welcome one and all , to BROADCASTTALE !

A lonely , broken down Mettaton , stuck in his dilapidated au , wished for another chance to be something stellar . His wish was heard by and outcode named Rose , and with her help he was able to create a brand new au for monsters like him

Broadcasttale was created with two things in mind: giving monsters with no home world a place to live and thrive , and creating something that could spread joy and laughter throughout the multiverse . Thus was born BTMTTTV (brodcasttale mettaton tv) .

A multiversewide TV station dedicated to entertaining the multiverse !

With your host and mayor , STELLAR !

No one in the multiverse is quite as dazzling as him , his voice is as angelic as it is charismatic , he captivates his audiences and steals their hearts .

He's a very kind and loving person over all , he cares deeply about his au and its residents , especially the cast members of his TV station . They're his family and he would do anything to ensure their safety and happiness .

He/they/it

The multiverse news reporter , TOPAZ !

The energetic newsie is a little bit nosy and he's always looking for the next scoop , dragging his cameraman with him across the multiverse to capture and air stories from all over !

He's got a heart of gold and he'll always look out for the people he loves .

(He secretly has cat ears and a tail . They are hidden by his attire .)

He/they

Speaking of cameraman , here's BLOOKSIE !

They're Stellar's beloved cousin (from another au .... ) , and Topaz's trusted cameraman

They're soft-spoken and timid , often thinking less of themself , but they do their absolute best , and when push comes to shove they always pull through ! They're much stronger than they give themself credit for .

They/them

Can't have Sans without Papyrus . Meet KUNZITE ! (named by my good friend @knightpapyrus on Twitter)

He's Topaz's dear brother , he runs a cooking show on the station and his culinary skills are the best in the multiverse !

He's an absolute sweetheart and he'll defend his brother with his life (even if that means lying to people's faces that Topaz didn't inherit the cat gene)

He/him

And last but not least , STATIC !

They're a ghost of a human child who used to live in the au broadcasttale was built upon . They somewhat resent the creation of the au , but no one seems to notice that they're here .

Deep down they have a loving heart , they're just very bitter about the initial destruction of their au , and aren't entirely open to the drastic changes that Stellar and Rose made with the broken world .

They/them , 11 years old .

Rules

1. Fanart is a-ok ! Tag me in it even .

2. Headcanons are welcomed and encouraged . They may help me build upon the au !

3. Nsfw of the ADULT CHARACTERS is fine , so long as it's kept in adult spaces , far FAR away from minors .

4. Ships are ok , as long as they are not problematic type ships . Keep the adults shipped with the adults , and ship chara with people their age .

5. Feel free to design broadcasttale versions of other characters , and what sorta segment they could have on the station , I wanna see it , and who knows .... maybe I'll adopt some of them .

6. HAVE FUN !!!

[ivys-head-is-spinning]

Favourite headcannons you've made or have seen about your favourite Newsie???

Ugh I have so many. So Albert is my fav (I love them all though with all my heart) so here are a few on him (a mix of mine and ones I’ve seen. Also some are modern day, some can be either I don’t care.):

He’s autistic and has ADHD

He loves outer space and plants

One I can up with is that he has a little stuffed octopus named squiggles gifted to him by Elmer.

I’m the biggest shipper Albert and Elmer by the way

Always wears his hat backwards. It’s his number one comfort item and he won’t leave the house without it.

He has a lot of self esteem issues and is self conscious of his hair.

His the most random music tastes and listens to a bit of everything (not me projecting)

he wants to be on Broadway and loves Disney and musicals. Those are also some of his special interests.(again not me projecting)

Is a shit driving but he always has to sit in the passenger seat and steals the aux cord (always plays the frozen musical on repeat and nothing else just to annoy everyone cause they’ve heard it so many times. The only one who doesn’t mind is Romeo and the two of them scream it together)

Has dated Finch but the two realized they are better off as friends

He is a very anxious and introverted person. Except when you get to know him he never shuts the fuck up

He’s crafty and can sew

HE LOVES LEGO. The best gift to give him is LEGO.

uhhh yeah I definitely have more but those are some of my favs!!

thanks for the question!!!

[areiphilos]

the outsiders musical review round up

these are for reviews for the broadway version. i will compile the ones for the la jolla previews from a year go at a later date. i will add my opinions on these in a reblog.

[TheaterMania] Review: The Outsiders Becomes a Soggy Broadway Musical

The deluge arrives during the climactic rumble scene, perversely transforming this coming-of-age story about brotherhood and the gravitational pull of class into an Abercrombie & Fitch photoshoot. It adds nothing to the story and gives several of these tough (tuff?) boys the Sharon Stone wet look just in time for the show’s heartfelt conclusion. This may seem like a petty thing to highlight at the top of a review, but this expensive and superfluous scenic effect exemplifies everything that is wrong with The Outsiders.

[The Guardian] The Outsiders review – ’60s-set classic makes for a solid, if unspectacular, Broadway musical

SE Hinton’s novel, which was adapted by Francis Ford Coppola for film, makes for a competent yet forgettable stage show.

In musical form, The Outsiders is at times overly, achingly sad, sometimes curiously staid, and always feeling in debt to something bigger. 

[The New York Times, archive link] Review: In ‘The Outsiders,’ a New Song for the Young Misfits

The classic coming-of-age novel has become a compelling, if imperfect, musical about have-not teenagers in a have-it-all world.

It’s a strange paradox of Broadway that its bigness, when used humbly, can honor quite delicate ideas. Whether it can sustain them is another story. In “The Outsiders,” they are not sustained; the structural problems mean its achievements don’t stick. But they’re still achievements, and a show need not be for the ages to be for the moment. In that sense it’s fair, citing Frost, to call it golden — nature’s “hardest hue to hold.”

[NY Daily News] BROADWAY REVIEW: S.E. Hinton’s gang classic ‘The Outsiders’ doesn’t cut it as stage show

This new Broadway musical is not all I had hoped. The show loses its narrative thread in a second act where the requisite narrative tension dissipates instead of intensifying, and the show, which lacks the humor of the structurally similar “Newsies,” gets stuck in an overly introspective and melancholic loop. It’s understandable why — the source novel is proudly reflective and ruminative, but musicals invariably have to be fueled by action, emotional change and resolvable determination.

[The Washington Post] Like many musical adaptations, ‘The Outsiders’ overexplains itself The new Broadway show adapted from S. E. Hinton’s novel and Francis Ford Coppola’s movie has great visual touches but falters when the characters open their mouths.

And therein lies the problem: The show overexplains everything, all the time. Hinton knew exactly how much to say and when — the paperback edition of “The Outsiders” is just 180 concise, evocative pages that let us discover things along with Ponyboy. Here, both the book and the songs tend to underestimate the audience’s intelligence. (This is surprising coming from Rapp, who is usually not afraid of ambiguity.)

[Variety] ‘The Outsiders’ Review: Broadway Musical Packs Heart and Soul but Little Punch

But a puttering feeling pervades even these climactic moments. The infatuation between Ponyboy and Cherry (Emma Pittman), which produces a couple of serviceable duets, feels perfunctory and fades into a melange of other conflicts. Hinton’s novel gallops with the muscular first-person voice of a tortured narrator, grabbing readers by the collar. “The Outsiders” musical takes a milder approach, peering under the hood of masculinity to the tune and pace of indie emo.

there are other reviews than these, but these are the major ones. some of them i don't include because, well, even in agreement that the show is bad, they have really bad conclusions in other spaces. broadwayworld features more but i'd exercise caution as some of the reviews they mark positive are actually middling at best.

[libinih28]

Watched while you were sleeping and my heart is going to explode. Bill pullman has always been and will always be a crush of mine. Newsies and space balls and while you were sleeping and independence day and a league of our own. I love this man

[itsallyscorner]

I’m so happy seeing someone on here give positions the respect it deserved as an album!!! U have no idea!! My fav currently is safety net, so that with Steve 🥺🤝

Aw thank you, hun! And thank you for the request! I’m so sorry it took long, thank you for being patient! I hope you enjoy, happy reading!🥰💛

💌.

safety net

*takes place in like early Avengers. Like First Avenger - Avengers* I’m not sure what this is, but I tried:)

You know you're really something, yeah

How we get here so damn fast?

Only you can tell me that

Baby, 'cause you know I'm coming back

You're making me forget my past

Never thought I’d feel like that again

I came to peace with my path

Now you got me off track

From waking up in the 21st century to becoming the Captain of the Avengers. Steve Rogers felt like time was moving through him. He was just a second on the clock while it continued to tick on to the next second, to a minute, and to an hour. Steve felt lost waking up in the new century. He didn’t know what the world was anymore. From someone who felt as if he had the world in his hands, now he was just a loner in a time he didn’t belong to.

He had no one. There wasn’t anyone in Brooklyn who he recognized. Not the man who worked at the deli, no newsie yelling out the new headline of the paper, not even one of those bullies who’d beat him up in the alleys. There was no Bucky. No sign of Peggy. Just a bunch of giant televisions hung on the buildings of New York and people with their eyes casted upon their phones.

Then he met you. Agent (y/n) of SHIELD. He recognized you as one of the many agents he bumped into when running out of HQ when he first woke up in NY. He officially met you when Fury introduced you to him.

“Captain Rogers, meet Agent (y/n), she’ll be helping you adjust to the 21st century.” Fury stood between you and Steve. While you had a comforting smile on your face, a hesitant expression was on the super soldier’s face.

“Captain Rogers, it’s an honor to meet you.” You stuck your hand out to him for a shake. Steve took your hand a few seconds after staring at it, nodding at you.

“I understand that everything seems confusing and you must be feeling so many emotions right now. But I hope you’ll allow me to help you adjust to the new world. We don’t have to rush into things, we can move at your pace. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” You spoke with such gentleness. For a moment, Steve forgot about the whole situation he was in. All he could thing about during that moment was how comforting your presence was and how safe it made him feel. Maybe a bit too safe.

Though he was timid, unresponsive, and hard to understand, you still stuck around to help him. Not once did you give up on him or missed a day of your sessions together. You were patient with him, even if he would raise his voice in frustration or just look off into space. You were kind and caring. You made sure he was eating well and that his fridge was well stocked whenever you came around. You were too good to him even though he was a complete dick to you.

Steve knew he was acting like a dick, it was a defense mechanism. His walls were built up to the skies, too scared to let anyone in, especially in the new world. But you were persistent. You didn’t let him knock you down with his childish behavior and hard glares. The day he apologized for his actions felt like some weight was taken off his shoulders. He hated being mean to you, you didn’t deserve it. Besides you were only doing your job.

After his apology, your sessions went smoother and Steve was actually learning things about the new world. From modern technology, terminology, pop culture, and operating daily appliances, you’ve basically taught Steve the basics of modern life. The more time you both spent together the more you’ve invaded his thoughts. When you left after sessions, he would reminisce about the light blush upon your cheeks, the way your lips moved when you talked, and how your eyes would connect with his. Sometimes he wondered how your lips would feel against his as he drew you in the brown sketchbook you’ve gifted him.

You were like Advil, you took away the pain and thoughts that racked his brain everyday and when he laid awake in his bed at night. He spent most of his time thinking about the past but when you were around you brought him to now. The world that he was in now. Sure, there was no Bucky or Peggy, but he had you. With you, the 21st century didn’t seem that bad.

I've never been this scared before

Feelings I just can't ignore

Don't know if I should fight or fly

But I don't mind

His feelings for you confused him as much as washing machines did. They just had too many buttons, what was the point of all of them? You could press any of them and they’d all wash your clothes, it’s the same result.

Steve wasn’t sure if he should fear his feelings for you or to follow them. The last time he felt this infatuated with a woman was with Peggy. And seeing how things ended up with Peggy, things weren’t so clear for you as well. Steve wasn’t sure if he was ready for a relationship. From having to adjust to the new world, to SHIELD, and being stuck on the past, Steve had a lot on his plate.

He was scared to break his walls down and let you in. He wanted you to be in his life but he was scared of having to face even more change. Steve tried to ignore his feelings for you, but he wasn’t too good at that either. When he ignored his feelings, you’d still find a way to crawl into his thoughts. Which led to him being frustrated at himself.

“Why do you have that look on your face, Steve?” You looked at him curiously, as you sat across from him. The two of you were in his dining room drinking some coffee that Steve successfully brewed.

“What look.” He gruffed out as he stirred his coffee.

“You’ve been glaring down at your coffee for the past few minutes.” You pointed out before taking a sip from your cup. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

“I think you’re an amazing gal and I adore you. And I can’t get you out of my damn head. I don’t know how to think straight without you being present in my mind.” Was what Steve wanted to say. He mentally screamed at himself for wanting to admit such a thing. Instead he ignored his stupid thoughts and tried to avoid your question.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, (y/n).” Steve shook his head as he sent you a small smile.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Steve there’s obviously something going on on in your head, I’m not forcing you to tell me. But sometimes it’s nice to voice your thoughts, it helps, trust me.” Your hand glides across the table as it settled above his. The warmth from your palm made him feel safe, it was comforting, like a blanket.  

“You don’t need to always keep everything to yourself, Steve. There’s people who are willing to help you and listen, You don’t need to do everything on your own.” Steve feels his hearts race as your hand squeezes his own.

“Doing everything alone is all I know. I mean I’ve always had Bucky, but I just, I’ve always faced things on my own.” Steve explained, the pain could be heard in his voice as he spoke about the past and Bucky.

You nodded understandingly, “I know, Steve. It’s just— If you need anyone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

Mmm

Tripping, falling, with no safety net

Boy, it must be something that you said

Is it real this time or is it in my head?

Got me tripping, falling, with no safety net

Steve allowed himself to be embraced by you. After losing the battle of debating his feelings for you, he realized that he was stupid for pushing away his feelings for you. For once in his life Steve allowed himself to be selfish. He was doing something for him. He liked you and he was going to allow himself to have those feelings for you. No more pushing you away.

You and Steve sat on the couch that was in the living room of the apartment SHIELD had provided him. Unlike the previous months of sitting on separate seats, you guys now shared the couch. The two of you sat side by side in comfort. Steve had laid back on the couch, his legs sprawled in front of him as his hand moved against the paper in his sketchbook. You were facing the window that outlooked the peaceful street Steve lived on. A cup of coffee was in your hands as you stared out the window.

From time to time your shoulder or hand would brush against Steve’s bare arm. The thin material of his short sleeved shirt not doing him any justice, the feeling of electricity rushing through his body made him shiver as goosebumps formed on his skin.

He was discreetly drawing you in his sketchbook. He stole glances at you as you continued to look out the window, eyes slowly drooping. Steve quietly chuckled to himself as he closed his sketchbook and placed it to the side.

“Better not spill all that coffee on my couch.” He teased you with a hint of playfulness in his eyes. You’ve never seen that look in him, usually his eyes were clouded with distraction, longing for something. You’ve always thought that he might’ve been longing for the past, but you could be wrong.

You rest your head on the couch, “It’s not even your couch, Steven.” Steve rolls his eyes and takes your cup from you, placing it on the coffee table.

“It’s still my responsibility.” He watched as you yawned tiredly. You were clearly tired, you had bags under your eyes and you moved slower than you usually did. The only thing to blame was the mission you’ve just returned from.

“You know, you can take a nap if you want. Have you gotten any proper sleep since getting back?” Steve asked as he stood up to grab a blanket that hung on one of his cushioned chairs.

“Does two to three hours count?” You began as he opened up the blanket. “And I don’t want to be a burden Steve, I’m not sleeping on your couch—“ You’re cut off by Steve tucking you into the blanket.

“You’re sleeping here. You’ve been there to help me adapt to the new world and now it’s my turn to help you. So sleep.” He explained with a nod before returning to his spot on the couch.

A few minutes past until he hears you shuffle and suddenly your head is on his lap, “you’re comfier.” You simply say before drifting off.

While you slept before him, Steve couldn’t help but admire the features that graced your face. Every single spot, blemish, the way your eyelashes brushed against the apples of your cheeks, or how your pouty lips were so pink and bright that he wanted to kiss them.

At that moment, as he stared down at you, he realized that he was falling hard, harder than he’s ever fell. But he was okay with it, satisfied actually. He wasn’t hesitant or scared anymore, he was going to jump off from his walls and fall, because somehow he knew you’d be at the bottom ready to catch him. You’re his safety net. 

[notafraidofstopping876]

Literally just a list of quotes from musicals that really speak to me/inspire me Part IV

“One bad day only means there’s work to do”-Altar Boyz

“Morning glow, by your light, we can make the new day bright. And the phantoms of the night will fade into the past. Morning glow is here at last”-Pippin

“We can stand on the edge and look out into space and be awed by the wonders we see. We can all make a pledge that the whole human raceWill become what we want it to be”-Fame

“What makes us special makes us strong”-Shrek

“You got to give yourself a reason to rejoice, For the music you make counts for everything. Now every loving soul has got a voice, You got to give it room, and let it sing”-Violet

“Won’t regret, can’t forget what I did for love”-A Chorus Line

“Even though I’ll stumple, even though I’ll fall, you’ll never see my crumble, you’ll never see me crawl”-Bright Star

“In this new world I can be bold, show me adventure and I will grab hold. I am a warrior, challenge me and I will scream, for I dared to dream”-In the Light

“For the first time in my life it gets to be my choice. I feel I've found myself. Yeah, and I found my voice”-Pretty Woman

“Every time you smile, it will only last awhile, Life may be scary, but it’s only temporary”-Avenue Q

“So how can you see what your life is worth or where your value lies? You can never see through the eyes of man, You must look at your life, Look at your life through heaven's eyes”-Prince of Egypt

“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!”-Newsies

”I’'m ready to move out in front, I've had enough of just passing by life. With the rest of them, with the best of themI can hold my head up high. For I've got a goal again, I've got a drive again, I wanna feel my heart coming alive again before the parade passes by”-Hello Dolly

[thetomorrowshow]

unless you take your army back

Hello and welcome to the sequel to my work i will make the sky collapse! You honestly do not have to read the first one to understand this one--the first was a Crutchie-centric whump-focused refuge story, and this one is about his recovery and Jack coming to terms with what happened (and maybe some,,, sprace).

So yeah! This is chapter one! Content warnings will be posted at the beginning of each chapter :) This is a queued post, so as soon as I have time to post it on AO3 I’ll update this with the link.

cw: blood, brief description of injury

~

On the same day they won the strike, there were a good dozen kids clamoring to be a newsie, appearing out of nowhere with the sole purpose of bothering Jack. He didn’t really want to care--they could be a newsie all they wanted--but the problem was they all needed a start-up fund. They all wanted Jack to foot the cost of their first papes and first week of room and board, and though he had just gotten a job offer and an improved living overall, he just didn’t have the time or money to train so many penniless kids. So he sent them to Spot Conlon, of course.

It was pretty clear that these kids all came from the Refuge, which had just been shut down by the governor. Jack had never been happier than he was when he saw the cop drag Snyder away in chains. The nagging question that was slowly coming to the front of his mind, though, was where was Crutchie?

Katherine had been here for the short celebration, but had seemed distracted and had left almost immediately, without giving Jack a chance to ask after his brother. He wanted to go look for the kid, comb through the Refuge and the streets surrounding it, but Davey had regretfully told him he couldn’t leave. He was the union leader, and a nice official union it was at that. He actually couldn’t even sell right now, he had to return to Pulitzer’s office and continue working on a bunch of paperwork registering the union or something. Pulitzer had told him that they would be working together occasionally due to his new position as leader of the Newsboys Union, which apparently meant that whenever there was a problem on either of their ends they had to include the other in their solving of the problem. It made sense to Jack, what he didn’t get was why he had to read a billion papers telling him it made sense.

Katherine did not ride with him and Mr. Pulitzer in the carriage back to his office, and she didn’t come and see him when he left late in the afternoon, but maybe she was just at work. There was a lot to report, after all. Jack wished it didn’t hurt. There was no way it was intentional, they all had a lot going on right now. It wasn't like he'd gone looking for her, after all. He'd see her tomorrow, cross paths on the way to work.

What with all the stressful arrangements and intense discussions, Jack was more tired than he usually was by the time he entered the lodging house. In later days, he wished that he had spoken to Mush, waiting anxiously outside. He wished that he had not gone with Pulitzer to his office, and instead sought out Katherine straightaway. Most of all, he wished that he had gone personally to the Refuge, made sure to set those kids free himself.

He didn’t do any of those things, though. Instead, he walked home from Pulitzer’s office, nodded to Mush, and went straight inside.

-

Katherine was there, which was odd, but certainly not unwelcome. According to Race, she had spent time with them without him, just celebrating with them and getting to know them all. That was fine, but most girls didn’t seek out a bunch of street rat teenage boys as preferred company.

Not only was Katherine there, but half of the newsies were seemingly just waiting by the door, dropping what they’d been doing and standing to stare at him. Sure, Jack was something of a celebrity now--and he had betrayed them more than once, which could be the reason also--but they looked almost guilty.

“Jack,” Katherine started, and Jack saw that sorry look on her face and his heart dropped. What could this be about? He’d been with Pulitzer all day, so it wasn’t like the old man had turned on them. Where was Crutchie? Was he--he couldn’t be. Right? No.

“Jack,” she said again, and now she was crying. Jack wanted to kiss the tears off her face, tell her she never needed to cry again, but he couldn’t. He had to know--his stomach was roiling, threatening to toss up whatever bite he’d eaten earlier. Something had happened, and it--it couldn’t be--

“It’s Crutchie,” Katherine said, and Jack had a brief moment of huh, so that’s how swoonin’ feels before he was on his knees. He can’t have died. Crutchie was--well, Crutchie. He was just as capable as any newsie, could sell papes twice as well as half of them, and was stronger than anyone Jack knew--certainly far stronger than himself. But if Snyder--if the Refuge--if--

“He’s alive,” Katherine hurried to say, kneeling on the floor beside him, and Jack let out a choked laugh, only just realizing he was crying.

“Ya couldn’ta said that sooner?” he asked weakly, and Katherine sniffled, trying to regain composure.

“He’s alive,” she repeated, “but he isn’t doing well at all. He wanted to see you, but I think he’s still asleep.”

In seconds, Jack was back on his feet, pulling her up with him. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling her towards the bunkroom. “I gotta see ‘im.”

He ignored her cries of “Jack, wait, you have to know--” and took the stairs two at a time, yanking open the door as soon as it was in front of him. The room was dead silent for once, and only one bed was occupied (despite the fact that he’d told Romeo to rest up today after the strike). Over by the open window on the far wall, a figure was laying in the only bed without a top bunk (the one that belonged to Jack, seeing as he was in charge).

Jack could barely hold back a retch as he came closer, seeing the matted hair crusted in blood, but sticking straight up, same as always. Crutchie was sleeping almost peacefully on the bed, the blankets tucked around him messily, as if one of the boys had tried his very best to arrange it like a mother would. His face was swollen and cut up, almost unrecognizable as his brother, though his neck was what caught Jack’s attention. A brownish-purple bruise in the vague shape of a gripped hand was found there, where the fingers had dug in marked by little round black bruises, a sick imitation of a constellation crossing his brother’s throat.

Jack’s fists curled into tight balls as he stared down at Crutchie, seeing red. The rest of his body was hidden by the covers, excepting a stiff arm that was tightly wrapped in gauze. The collar of his undershirt was the only part of his clothes visible, and it was stained brown and torn. 

There were two sides of Jack warring for dominance. One screamed at him to storm down to the county jail right this moment and give Snyder everything he deserved. The other side tried to pull him to the floor, weeping at Crutchie’s bedside. Jack fought both, not wanting to seem weak in front of Katherine, who was watching him with that soft-concerned look on her face that he had already come to know too well. He needed to get alone, needed space, needed a moment to cope with what he’d just been confronted with so that he could best help Crutchie later.

Jack calmly left the room, replying something along the lines of fine, just need a minute when Katherine asked tentatively if he was okay. Then he walked slowly down the steps and through the main room, where all of the newsies watched him silently. He nodded vaguely in their direction. Luckily, none of them asked any questions. If they had, Jack wasn’t sure that he would’ve been able to hold back the sobs.

Finally he was outside, and here he could run. Run he did, all the way around the side of the building and up the fire escape, running and running until all that existed was the clang! of his feet against the metal and the wind rushing past his ears. Then he was climbing the ladder to the very top, where only a week ago he and Crutchie had woken, excited to start striking for real.

Jack had woken early that morning, and had taken the time to sketch out the New York skyline against the starry night sky. It was a frequent subject of his, but that morning he had filled in himself and Crutchie, sitting on the roof closest to the perspective, curled up and reaching toward the stars.

When Crutchie had gotten up, they had made mundane small talk, both trying to hide nervousness that showed too plainly. They eventually stopped talking around it, laughing and joking about it directly, before deciding--no, vowing--to not let the other come to serious harm or danger. Then they had gone downstairs, ready to wake the other boys and get on with the revolution.

The last promise--maybe the last one ever--that Jack had made to Crutchie, and he’d broken it not even hours later. On the rooftop now, Jack kicked the low wall angrily, then again and again. What was wrong with him? How could he focus so intently on these--these mundanities, paperwork and politeness and whatall, while Crutchie was suffering so? How had he not been here for him, when he arguably needed Jack more than anyone else at the moment?

He kicked the wall one more time, then threw himself to the floor. What kind of leader was he? He’d betrayed everyone, almost left Crutchie; then when he’d gotten his head on the right way, he hadn’t done anything to make sure the kid was all right!

“Jack?”

Katherine. She would come up here, tell him it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t want that. It was his fault, and he couldn’t have anyone denying it or he might just explode.

“Leave me alone,” he called back, barely keeping his voice from breaking. Silence, then a sigh and the sound of soft footsteps going down the fire escape. Good.

Jack drew his hands across his face, taking in a shuddering breath. He had to pull himself together. He couldn’t dream about leaving anymore, that would just make things worse. He had to be here for Crutchie, and the other boys. Prove that he wasn’t a scab.

He hadn’t eaten any supper, but he didn’t really care. It was dark enough that he shouldn’t have a problem resting. Add it to the tired ache in his bones and he’d be out in no time. He’d get up when everyone else went to bed, then he’d stay up the rest of the night with Crutchie, be there in case he had nightmares or woke up. He had to be there for him. He had to.

[heliads]

Didn’t You See

Y/N feels heartbroken after she walks in on her longtime crush, Race, kissing some girl while they’re supposed to be selling papes. Her best friend, Specs, is there to cheer her up, but she may come to care for Specs more than she first realized.

masterlist

You can see him just a few feet in front of you. He’s disappeared around the wall of an alleyway now, roughed up shoes flashing past a corner. A shock of blond curls and blue eyes is the only identifier, but you’d know him in a heartbeat. Race, who’s finally returned to sell the last of his papes. The two of you have always been selling partners, but he said he had to slip away for just a second, leaving you alone on the streets with a bag of curled newspapers selling like hotcakes. He’s back now, although you’re not sure why he’s running away again.

You follow him, of course you do. You’ve known Race for what feels like forever, and you’ve noticed that he has a way of playing games, of wanting to mess with people’s heads. By people, you mean newsies like yourself- whether it be stealing cigars or tossing witty jokes back and forth, Race loves to feel like he’s winning in some grand competition. You’re not sure what the goal is right now, and so you follow him. Your feet are silent on the dusty cobblestones, and you don’t make a sound, even when you see the real reason for Race’s disappearance.

He’s kissing some girl, his hands tangled in her curls. Their eyes are closed, their worlds shut out to anything that doesn’t involve the two of them, and so they do not see you slipping away, back out of the dark of the alleyway and into the sudden blinding sunlight. You’re grateful for the rush of light, though- it forces you to squint, to stop in your tracks and remember to put on a brave face. A plaster mold of a smile that allows you to rush through the remainder of your papers until your bag is finally empty and you can leave the bustling city center. Once you exchange the crowds of Manhattan for dim, empty alleyways, you finally let your cheerful demeanor crack and fall away.

Your hand finds your mouth, holding in a sob. Surely you had seen something wrong, surely you hadn’t just walked in on Race kissing that girl he’s been making eyes at all morning. Yet your brain refuses to let you forget the scene, and every detail is forced before your eyes with all the clarity of those newfangled photographs you see in the papers. There were his arms, pulling her close. There was his smile, sweet as a drop of melting candy, intoxicating as sugar. There was that girl, the only recipient of his feelings. That girl, who was not you.

You had been in love with Race for a while now, too long for your own good. You knew better than to fall for Racetrack, everyone did. He’d flirt with a nun if he thought it would get him another cup of coffee, and he moved on from a brokenhearted girl faster than a steam engine headed west. You’d known better than to fall in love, and yet you did, letting your heart plunge down the well only to break upon impact. 

You’d fooled yourself into thinking you had some chance with him because you sold papers together. He always picked you as his selling partner, surely that meant something? Yet it doesn’t, does it? He chose you because you were easy to lose when he wanted to slip away, because he knew you would sell papes and wouldn’t rely on him too much. You were like a little wind up toy that he could set out and ignore, someone who wouldn’t get him into trouble and make up excuses like clockwork. He had played you for a fool and you had believed every honey-sweetened word.

The jealous, bitter sadness is washing over you in waves now, and you manage to stumble through the doors of the newsies’ lodging house and exchange forced pleasantries with Jack and the others before hurrying upstairs and out of sight. You keep climbing those rickety wooden steps, up past the rows of bunks until your head is practically scraping against the roof. There’s a little attic up here, a small crawl space that everybody else overlooks. It’s practically perfect for you- nobody knows it’s here and so you can finally be left alone.

It is only now that you finally allow the tears to run unbidden from your cheeks, that your shoulders shake with the pain of a century. Jack used to joke that you were always able to sell papes so quickly because you had a good heart and people trusted you. Well, that earnest, full, stupidly trusting heart had finally gotten itself in too deep and now you were paying the price. Your head jerks up as you hear footsteps echoing up through the space behind you and you hurriedly turn away from the stairs, wiping the tears away from your face with the back of your hand.

There’s a knock on the wooden slats near the opening to the stairs. “You alright, Y/N?” You recognize the voice and the rhythm of the footsteps- it’s your best friend, Specs. If you’ve known Race for a long time, you’ve probably known Specs for even longer. You wave a hand at him, still keeping your back turned to hide the last remnants of your tears. “Yeah, I’m fine. No worries.” You do your best to keep your voice strong, and feel pretty pleased when it doesn’t crack once.

Yet Specs doesn’t go back down the stairs. Instead, he pulls himself into the room, sliding into a seat a few feet away from you. “That’s not true and we both knows it. You never come up here unless you’se feeling awful about something.” You give him a quick, curious glance over your shoulder. “I didn’t think anyone knew I came up here.” Specs grins. “No one knows ‘cept me. I’m your best friend, you can’t hide things from me that easy. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I have to start guessing?” You sigh. “You’ll laugh at me.” Specs shakes his head. “I would never. Promise.”

You think this over for one last second, then relent and turn around. You lean your back against the wooden walls of the attic. “I saw Race kissing some girl early today.” Specs winces. “Ouch.” You nod, covering your face with your hands. “I was stupid enough to set my heart on him and look where it got me. Crying in the attic.” Specs leans over and slings an arm around your shoulders. You lean in to his embrace, feeling the echo in his chest as he speaks. “Well, I thinks he’s an idiot for not choosing you. You’se ten times the goil of anyone here, and you can sell papes like nobody.”

You smile bitterly. “I don’t think Race’s thinking about pape selling when he chooses a goil.” Specs makes a scornful sound in the back of his throat. “He should. It could pay for his cigars.” You’re taken by surprise by this and laugh, already feeling your worries start to slip away. “He’s losing out on business. Shameful.” Specs laughs as well. “Shameful is right.” You look up at him. “Thanks, Specs. I mean it. I’m doing better already.” Specs stretches and stands up, extending a hand to you to help you up. “Of course. We’se friends, aren’t we? We got each other’s backs.”

When morning rolls around the next day, you can feel the easy happiness of yesterday’s talk with Specs starting to drain away. You’re waiting in line to get your papes when Race bounds up to you, a cheeky grin already resplendent on his lips. “So, Y/N, you ready to go?” You feel your smile start to freeze on your face. Shoot- you forgot you always sell with Race. You’re still crushed by the sight of yesterday’s encounter in the alleyway, and you realize that you can’t take another day of watching Race pretend you don’t even exist. He’ll probably slip away again, and you’ll have to ignore it like you have no idea what it means. You can’t do this, not again.

Then there’s a voice from beside you, and Specs is standing next to you. “Sorry, Race, but Y/N already promised she’d sell with me today.” Race raises his eyebrows. “Is that so?” You nod. “You barely sold fifteen by sunset, I was getting bored. I thought you’d be better from all your talk, you know.” Race stares at you and your joking grin for a second, then breaks out into laughter. “Damn, Y/N, you killed me. Murdered your own friend. Well, I can get that. See you later.” He waves a goodbye and heads off down the streets.

You turn back to Specs, who’s doing his best to silence his own laughter. “Thanks for the rescue. I didn’t really want to spend all day with him again.” Specs shakes his head, still grinning. “Thanks for that. I don’t think I’ve seen his ego so wounded since Spot Conlon said he wasn’t all that good. I’ll be happy for a week.” You smile as well. “It felt good. I should insult people more often.” Specs snickers. “Absolutely.”

You end up having a great time selling papes with Specs. Honestly, you should do this more often. The two of you compete to see who can shout the strangest headlines and still get people to buy your papes. You think you won with ‘Bank floods and kills eleven orphans,’ although Specs had a good one after he yelled out about a ‘Real life ghost sighting in California, ghost made out of gold, you heard it here.’ 

You’re leaning against the a brick storefront, glancing at the papes in the hopes of finding material for another particularly phony headline, when your eyes are caught by a smaller article in the back. You walk over to Specs, nudging his arm to get his attention. “Hey, look at this. A meteoroid is supposed to be seen in the sky around midnight tonight.” Specs’ eyes light up. “That’s so cool.” You frown. “Absolutely. Uh, what’s a meteoroid?” Specs laughs, but not unkindly. “Scientific name for a shooting star.” You nod, face brightening once more. “Makes sense. Want to look for it with me?” Specs smiles at you. “Sure. It’ll be amazing.”

This meteoroid had better be amazing, because staying up until midnight is not. After a long day out on the streets of Manhattan, you want nothing more than to curl up in your bed and go to sleep. But no, you’re out on the roof in the middle of the night because you thought it would be cool to see a shooting star. Specs, on the other hand, seems to be having a great time. The two of you are lying side by side on the roof, and he’s pointing out the different stars. You have no idea how he knows that many, and your eye follows his hand as he seems to mold and shape the very night sky itself.

After a while, he falls silent. “That’s really all I know.” You stare up at the sky. “It’s more than I know. The only thing I know about stars is that they’se bright and far away.” Specs chuckles. “That’s all you really have to know. I don’t think knowing about Ursa Major is helpful for the papes.” You glance over at him. “Not everything has to be about the papes. You can do a lot of things that I think would make anyone here jealous.”

Specs laughs. “Like what?” You shrug, shoulders bumping up against the cool roof. “Always having answers to things. Being able to find your friend when she’s hiding away in the attic and knowing just how to make people feel better.” Specs looks back towards the sky again. “And where has that gotten me? I’m not Race, I can’t find a dozen girls to dance with each week.” You grin. “That’s because they’re all idiots. Any girl with half a brain would consider herself lucky to dance with you. ” Specs’ gaze drops. “All except one, I guess.”

For some reason, this makes your heart sink in your chest. There’s something else he’s trying to tell you, but you can’t seem to figure out what that is. All of a sudden, Specs sits up, finger trained on a star growing brighter by the second. “There! I think that’s it.” You straighten up, and a beaming grin rises unbidden from your lips as you watch the streak of light flash across the sky. “That’s amazing.” Specs stares at it. “Make a wish.” You snap your eyes shut for a second while you think, and then open them once more. Specs glances over at you. “What did you wish for?” You shove his shoulder playfully. “I’se not supposed to say. It’ll ruin the wish.” What you don’t tell him is that the wish was a quiet, inner plea for this night to happen again, for this same feeling of unburdened happiness to come over you once more. Being able to stay out late at night with Specs has somehow made you feel happier than you have in a while.

You’re out selling papes with Specs the next day when you see a figure walking casually towards you across the street. You pocket the last few cents a customer had given you and turn to see Race beside you. You hesitate for a moment, seeing Specs make eye contact with you from a few feet away. He furrows his brow, as if asking a question. What is he doing here? You shrug almost imperceptibly. I have no idea.

Race tilts his head back slightly, hands shoved offhandedly into his pockets. “D’you want to walk with me for a little bit? I’se been wanting to talk to you about something. I think I’ve been missing something that’s right before my eyes.” Your heart leaps into your throat. This is what you’ve been wanting all along, for him to finally see you. When Race turns into a nearby alleyway instead of staying in the sun-drenched streets, you realize what he’s going to talk about. This is it- he feels the same way about you as you always have about him.

Specs is still selling papes when you burst out of the alleyway a few moments later. He tucks a newspaper back inside his bag, turning to face you with forced indifference. “I thought you’d be talking to Race for longer. It seemed, uh, important.” You shake your head, a determination lighting up your eyes. “I don’t want him. I don’t want to kiss him once and then have him forget about me a couple of days later. I want you.”

Specs stares at you. “But you’ve been crushing on Race for forever.” Your breathing is coming hard in your chest, like it’s taking you everything to finally say this and realize the truth you’ve been hiding from for a while now. “I shouldn’t have been crushing on him. I should have been crushing on you. The second he pulled me into that alley, the only thing I could think about was how he didn’t know me at all. The person who knows me, who cares about me, is you. I should have seen that a long time ago.”

Specs laughs now. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that? All this time, I’ve been in love with you.” Your eyes widen. “You have? Why didn’t you say anything?” Specs tilts his head in emphasis. “Would you have listened at all?” You wince. “Not really, no.” Specs smiles for a second longer, and then leans forward and kisses you. His hands find the small of your back and you lean into the kiss, feeling like you’re lighter than air. This is what it’s supposed to feel like, falling in love. This is what you’ll feel like every day, from now until forever.

[violetwolfraven]

Prompt: "You don't have to hide your tears from me" for Redfinch

Mkay! Angst time! Let’s go!! I’m writing this the week after Valentine’s Day!! Woohoo!!

Anyway this takes pre-canon. So... spoiler alert they do get together later along this timeline, but right now it’s angsty and the boys aren’t together yet.

Tw: mentioned abusive parenting, toxic masculinity, unrequited crush.

...

Finch didn’t really understand blood ties. The concept of owing something to your biological family the way some of the other boys seemed to.

He didn’t understand why Albert, Elmer, and Buttons kept going back to their families even though all three of them always came back tired and usually a bit ticked off at best, genuinely upset at worst.

But then again, Finch didn’t remember his family beyond his father’s fists and his mother’s voice yelling at him. He’d run away when he was 6 and never looked back, and now he only thought of them when he was working through a nightmare or an old scar twinged in the cold weather.

The newsies weren’t exactly a family, he guessed, considering most of them weren’t blood, but they were like one. Better than most families, in some ways, with how Jack and Crutchie took care of the others and though sometimes jokes were at friends’ expense, it was never in a mean way. They were ride or die for each other.

Maybe that was what a family was supposed to be, but Finch knew he’d never seen blood family that was like that. He sure knew that the only people he was ride or die for were the ones he’d chosen.

He really hated seeing the people he’d chosen hurting. Especially when it was because of their so called ‘families.’

He hated seeing when Elmer came back from his parents’ house reserved and quiet, acting surprised when his friends actually paid attention to him, and he hated how exhausted Buttons always was, practically falling asleep on his feet.

But most of all, he hated how defensive and angry Albert always was when he came home from his dad’s house. How he acted for a good couple days afterwards, like any emotion other than anger was weakness.

This morning seemed to be an especially bad day, and everyone could see it. Even Wiesel and the Delanceys wisely avoided antagonizing him too much, knowing by the look in his eyes how bad of an idea it would be to mess with him today. The other newsies were giving him space, and honestly, the fact that they were letting him on the streets today at all was a little questionable.

Finch knew Albert. He knew how that boy’s words could be just as dangerous as his fists, and could get him into more trouble. It was useful sometimes, Albert’s uncanny ability to say exactly the right thing to start a fight. It was good for causing distractions if they were running from someone or to divert away from a topic he or a friend didn’t want to talk about. Finch actually was impressed with how he could always do that without fail.

But he really didn’t feel like helping his friend escape the Refuge again. Not today.

So, after a morning of watching him seethe with anger over... something involving his dad and brothers, Finch pulled him aside in an alley, putting his papes down on a crate and blocking the way out to keep Albert from leaving.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do ya mean ‘what’s wrong?’ Nothin’s wrong. I’m fine.”

Albert tried to shove past him, clearly getting more annoyed when he didn’t let him.

“Move.”

“No,” Finch crossed his arms, “Not till you tell me what’s wrong.”

“We’re gonna miss the mornin’ rush cause you’s seein’ things,” Albert urged, trying to escape again, “Nothin’s wrong, Finch. Move.”

“No.”

“Move!”

“No.”

“Just cause you’s sweet on me don’t mean you gotta care ‘bout my problems,” Albert hissed.

Well, that was... unexpected.

Finch still didn’t know how Albert had even found out about his crush—he hadn’t bothered to ask how—but since that time a month ago where Al tried to kiss him and Finch made it clear that he wouldn’t settle for being his rebound guy, they hadn’t spoken of anything involving that. He was pretty sure Albert had been being his friend as a way to make that incident’s thoughtlessness up to him, but neither of them had actually acknowledged that conversation happened.

Bringing it up now was a dick move. Especially considering Finch could tell Albert was still hurting over Race, because he was still in love with him, because of course he was because Finch’s luck was shit.

Well, at least it looked like it was dawning on Albert—albeit slowly—how much of a dick move that was.

“I shouldn’ta said that. Sorry. Still, move.”

Finch let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and shook his head, “No.”

“Please?”

He was a little surprised to hear him say that, but he still refused to move.

“No,” he insisted. “No, cause I know what you’re gonna do if I let ya leave this alley without talkin’. You’ll just bottle it up like ya always do, and then eventually you’ll snap on somebody and pretend you’re mad when you’re actually scared or sad. And besides the fact that you can’t last like that—it ain’t healthy—that ain’t fair to the others and I’d rather it be me you yell at than one of them.”

Albert scoffed, “I do not bottle—“

“Yes, you do,” Finch interrupted, “And it used to be Race who made ya let it out before ya snapped on someone who couldn’t handle it, but you and him don’t talk no more lately for obvious reasons, so I guess it’s gotta be me.”

It hurt that Albert didn’t trust him enough to talk the way everyone knew he used to with Race, but Finch didn’t let it show. He knew firsthand how secrets could burn holes in you. He himself confided in Henry, Tommy Boy, and Sniper when he needed someone to talk to. And he would like to be able to confide in Albert someday, but...

Trust went both ways. Admittedly, he had trouble with trust some days, so maybe it wasn’t fair that he was asking Albert to trust him.

Maybe he needed to give a little to show it was okay.

“Look, I... I know what it’s like to get hurt by somebody who’s supposed to care ‘bout you,” he admitted, “My mom and pop weren’t exactly... they... I know what I went through ain’t the same as what’s goin’ on with you now, but I’m only gonna ask you one more time: what’s wrong?”

Albert was still staring him down like he thought he could get him to back out, but Finch did see a flicker of surprise at the little piece of his past he’d confessed.

Nobody in Manhattan knew his past. He’d made sure he left all that behind in Flushing. He was sure plenty of the fellas—Albert included—had guessed the general idea, but no matter how bad the nightmares got some times of the year, Finch always tried to focus on just the right now’s problems.

He had that in common with Tommy Boy, Henry, and Sniper. Their ‘just the four of them’ talks always danced around what they were actually upset about, because openly talking about families or parents or home lives, past or present, was just too painful. That was why they gravitated to each other. Because they were the only ones who could figure out what the others meant by what they actually said. Sure, Jack took care of everybody, but he was too busy with taking care of the whole damn borough to have time to figure out their mind games. Crutchie was still trying, but he had duties as one of Manhattan’s seconds, too. Everybody else had either given up or didn’t care enough to try in the first place.

Albert knew all that. Or... he knew how much Finch was letting down his guard, openly telling him even that little.

He gave up on trying to make him back down and looked at the ground with an angry huff.

“It don’t matter, okay? Nothin’ Ben and John ain’t said to me before.”

“So it’s not a problem with your dad?” Finch asked, relieved. Sure, Albert’s brothers were technically adults, but they weren’t a big threat.

He scoffed, “No, of course not. Dad’d have to actually look at me to give me problems. Which he don’t. Practically ever. I remind him too much of Mom, as if that’s my fuckin’ fault.”

The anger in his voice was dripping with sadness, and it broke Finch’s heart. Albert didn’t deserve that.

But that was more of a long-term problem. Right now, it wasn’t what he was most upset about.

“So... Ben and John?”

“Oh, yeah,” Albert said sarcastically, “Y’know, they both had their first sweethearts by the time they was my age, so it’s hilarious to dump on how Albert’s gonna die alone. John’s gonna marry Thea, so it’s a great time to laugh ‘bout me not havin’ anyone to bring to the wedding like how Ben’s got Elizabeth. And it’s all in good fun, so I’m too goddamn defensive for gettin’ mad about it! Yeah, I’m the irrational one despite how I ain’t the one who started it!”

If he was this upset about a few little jabs from his brothers, that meant it wasn’t actually about them at all, and Finch probably should have tried to make him talk before now.

If the heartbreak he was trying to hide by keeping his face turned to the dirt was any indication, this was about Race. And that stung a bit, but it was clearly still burning at Albert.

Finch could deal with his own unreturned feelings. Sure, it hurt, but it was nothing he hadn’t been feeling for months. And he’d gotten rejected before, so it wasn’t anything new.

But Albert had never felt this before. He was volatile and emotional and he didn’t know how to express it any way but with anger because that was how he’d been raised. To his credit, he’d tried to push the others away, knowing his own tendency to lash out, but Finch hadn’t let him push him away.

Finch prided himself on his ability to read people, so he could tell exactly how gone Albert had been over Race. He could tell how much that was hurting him now, how much it was tearing him apart, and...

And Albert was crying.

“Al—“

“Shut up,” Albert snapped, even though his voice trembled.

Three years since he’d come to Manhattan. Finch had seen most of his friends cry in that time, but not Albert.

Admittedly... he wasn’t sure what to do. The others usually gave him a sign whether to leave them alone or try to comfort them, but the thing about Albert was that he craved affection but would never be caught dead admitting it. He hated letting anyone see him as anything other as unshakable even if he was on the verge of collapse.

They were just standing there in that alleyway, a couple feet apart, Albert staring hard at the ground as his shoulders shook and tears dripped off his face and Finch frozen, no clue what to do.

“Al,” he said hesitantly, “It’s okay to cry.”

“No. It ain’t right for a boy.”

“Really?” Finch risked taking a step closer, reaching out a hand slowly.

Albert clearly saw him, but didn’t back away or stop him, allowing Finch put a comforting hand on his arm.

“That ain’t what you told me,” he pointed out, “That time when I woke ya up with a nightmare. You just hugged me till I could breathe again.”

“That was different,” Albert shot back, finally looking back up to look him in the eyes, “You was hurtin’.”

“And you’re not hurtin’ now? Al, look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not breakin’ up inside.”

He didn’t. Or... couldn’t.

“Albert,” Finch said quietly, “You don’t have to hide your tears from me.”

He still looked like he wanted to hide them, but instead, he leaned forward, kind of head-butting Finch in the shoulder except he left his face there, his tears soaking through the fabric.

Finch would be lying if he said that his heart didn’t skip a beat at the contact but he shook it off, focusing on how that was a pretty clear signal that this was okay.

“It’s okay, Al,” Finch whispered, wrapping his arms around him.

He didn’t say that it would get better or that Albert would find someone else who’d love him back. He knew that saying those things didn’t make heartbreak any better.

Just being there, being a friend, being a shoulder to cry on, was better for now.

[crutchie-with-a-y]

Chapter 2: The Morning Machine

Chapter 1

"Wait, wait, what?!" Specs almost spat out his beer in surprise. "Jack and Davey? Those stubborn idiots? They finally got together?"

"Yep," Smalls said, smacking the back of a pack of cigarettes and sticking one in her mouth. She leaned her face towards the end of Race's cigarette to light her own. "End of one of Jack's art galleries, he finally sold a piece, and he was so happy."

"Hey," Specs snapped the cigarette out from between her teeth and took a drag. "Aren't you a little young to be smoking?" The rest of them laughed while she bit her bottom lip in a smile of annoyance.

"A, I'm nineteen," She snatched it back. "And B, you started smoking at thirteen so I don't wanna hear it." The group chuckled. Elmer, Race, Smalls, Mush, Finch, and Specs had all been sitting on the fire escape sipping drinks and passing stories and updating Specs on all that had happened in the time that he'd been gone. They'd been at it for hours, but it didn't feel like it'd been that long. That's how time passed when Specs was with his crew. He remembered coming home around four when he was a kid and just talking with his friends until Sarah came in and asked if anyone had had dinner yet considering it was eleven. "And Jack's doing art galleries now?" Specs asked, glancing down at the cars that were sputtering to life in the street. They'd talked clean through those early hours of the morning that still feel like night, and now they'd reached the early hours of the actual morning when the sun peaked over the roofs of apartment buildings and people started heading out for school and work.   "Oh, yeah," Elmer started, but before he could continue, a brown-haired woman stuck her head out the window from the apartment to the fire escape. "Do any of you need any extra food for today? Considering that I have to leave in" She stopped rubbing her eyes to smack a thin, sage-colored watch on her wrist. "Jesus, I was supposed to leave already. Anyone need anything?" "SARAH!" Specs shouted with glee, causing her eyes to slam open. "Oh my lord, Specs, Darling! Where have you been?" Sarah smiled brightly with outstretched arms, the exhaustion wiped clear off her face. He stumbled over his friends and wrapped the only maternal figure he had in his life in the strongest hug he could muster. He used to run up to her and bury his face in her stomach, but now she barely reached his shoulder.  "I thought I said to stop growing at five-seven, " She grinned, lightly tapping his nose with her finger. "Now you're going to be hitting your head when you get inside." "What time is it, Sarah?" Race said, over-pronouncing the R in her name. The rest of the group was stretching out and picking up empty beers. "About 5:15, Racer," She responded, mimicking him. "Ah, shit, I gotta catch my train in ten minutes." Finch scooched past everyone and pushed himself through the window. Everyone else groaned in similar frustration and began to climb through the window. Except for Elmer, who stretched back out on the porch with his hands behind his head. "Ah, the joys of unemployment. I don't have to be anywhere today," He smirked, his eyes closed in relaxation. "You got fired, Nitwit," Mush smacked him in the back of the head. "You gotta go find a job and go get those kids up for Sarah." Elmer groaned. "Tell them there's a pot of oatmeal on the stove and I sweetened it so don't add any more sugar," Sarah said as she waved Specs through the window. Elmer nodded and climbed onto the outside of the fire escape. "Oh, Elmer use the LADDER, Lord, you gotta cut that out!" Sarah hollered as Elmer dropped from the edge of the fire escape onto the one below. Specs laughed as he stepped into the apartment he knew so well. It hadn't changed much. To the left of the fire escape window was a dim bedroom with no light fixtures, and to the right, it opened up into a living room that extended into a small kitchen with a tiny bar and no room for a table. The living room had a couple of ratty couches and a rocking chair facing a beat-up old television. Old, creaking mattresses were scattered all over the floor, some stacked with piles of blankets and some with sleeping bodies still in them. The walls were covered in drawings and notes and school papers that had been tacked up with pride. Specs smiled. He could still see some of his work decorating the room. It was so good to be back. "Where the hell did Elmer just go?" Specs asked, blinking out of his nostalgia. "Oh, we had enough growing boys and enough of us had jobs that we decided to rent out the Jamesons' apartment after they moved to California," Sarah informed him, walking into the kitchen. "Yeah, and 'cuz with all those "growing boys" this place smelled like actual ass," Smalls said, plopping her petite body down onto one of the couches. "Don't get too comfy, you got work too, You Little Brat," Mush reached over the back of the couch and picked her up, throwing her over the back of his shoulder and carrying her towards the bedroom, Smalls squealing as they went. "Ohhh, alright." Specs followed Sarah into the kitchen where she was bagging up sandwiches at the counter. He reached for a bag to help, but she poked him and gestured for the sink. He smirked and walked over to turn the faucet on and began scrubbing his hands. "Yeah, it's been nice to have the extra space. The bedroom up here has everyone's clothes in it, and downstairs we have a couple of desks and a crib." Sarah said, finishing with a little hum. Specs loved that sound. She always made it when she was happy about something. Specs could tell she was proud of how far they'd come since renting out that single bedroom all those years ago. He knew, he was there, he remembered it like it was yesterday. He was proud too. "Wait, what do you need a crib for? Specs questioned, flicking his hands. He did some quick calculations in his head. "Everyone should be.....twelve at least." "We have a couple of babies, well, used to be babies." Sarah pulled a marker out of a drawer and began scrawling names on the lunch bags in her smudged, loopy handwriting. Always was like that, Specs thought to himself. "Now I think they count as kids, but they're still small enough to sleep in a crib without too much protest." "Where the hell did you find babies?" Specs was still confused. "Sarah brought them in from work," Finch entered the kitchen to brush his teeth at the sink. "From work?" Specs glanced between the both of them, passing a bag to Sarah. "Yeah, she's a lunch lady at an elementary school," Finch said, his mouth foaming with toothpaste. "Can't you tell?" Sarah laughed, gesturing to her long, white, button-up dress and white sneakers. She stepped back from the counter and walked into the living room, kneeling in front of the TV to look at her reflection on the screen to pin up her hair. "Yeah, and some of the kids there didn't have a place to go so she brought them here. And they had younger siblings." Finch finished brushing and turned around, drying his mouth with the edge of his sleeve. "That's....so nice of her." Specs looked back at Sarah, who had finished pinning up her hair and was now gentling shaking awake those who were still in bed. "I know and," Finch looked down at the rows of lunch bags sitting on the counter. "Christ, she did it again." Specs looked at him with his eyebrow raised. "She gets up every morning at like four and makes everyone lunches and breakfasts, no matter how old they are." He explained. "Just like she did when we were kids." Specs said quietly, his heart suddenly aching. "Yeah," Finch shook his head. Their attention was drawn away by the sound of the apartment door opening and a dozen footsteps coming in. A stream of kids, ages three to around seventeen came through the door, all yawning and chatting with each other. Some were carrying half-eaten bowls of oatmeal and some were jumping on each other's backs. Some of the faces Specs recognized, and others were entirely new to him. But they all had the innocent, playful aura of kids raised by the newsies of Lower Manhattan. As the apartment began to fill with lean bodies and laughter, none other than Jack Kelly stepped through the door in his loose white T-shirt and faded blue jeans, ushering the last of the line of youngens through the door. His eyes looked to his left at the kitchen counter and his brow furrowed. He stepped into the living room and raised his voice over the chatter. "So you mean to tell me that the lovely Ms. Sarah Jacobs with a full-time job got up at the ass-crack of dawn to make all of us breakfast and lunch and nobody is going to thank her?" Sarah looked up from where she had been kneeling on the floor in front of the mattress and locked eyes with Specs. Before she could move though, the swarm of bodies rushed towards her and latched on, yelling their "Thank Yous" and "You look so pretty todays" and "You're the bests" so loud the neighbors across the street must have heard. Then a couple of the older kids lifted her up on their shoulders, despite her giggling protests. They carried her towards the door when she began to say she needed to leave, and everyone shouted a wall-shaking "I LOVE YOU SARAH" as they lowered her to the door. She laughed loudly and said she loved everyone too before making her way down the hall. "Every morning," Race said, strolling into the kitchen behind Specs and his face-bursting smile. "I swear that woman has more children than God himself," Another familiar voice said, pushing through the door past the kids. David Jacobs slid into the kitchen, met by Jacks welcoming arms. "Specs! Specs, you're here!" David's eyes went wide as he noticed him. Specs had completely forgotten that he was even there, he felt like he'd been watching a movie. "I didn't even see you there!" Jack wrapped him in a tight hug...and then a scarring noogie. "H-HI, Jack," Specs wriggled out from under his arm. Jack laughed with the tip of his tongue hanging out. How has nothing and everything changed at the same time, Specs thought, looking between Jack's characteristic laugh and the arm David had wrapped around his waist. "How have you been, Mr. Deserts-Us-For-Another-City-That-Isn't-Even-Close-To-Santa-Fe?" Jack asked, bending down to toss a tennis ball back to some kids in the living room. "Santa Fucking Fe? You're still on that musty desert town?" "Hey, it is not a musty desert town!" Jack protested before the ringing of an alarm clock that sat on the counter interrupted. "That's my cue to leave," Finch said, patting Specs on the back and grabbing his lunch as he made his way towards the door. "I'll see you at around five or maybe meet you for lunch at Jacobi's?" He said. Specs nodded, realizing as soon as Finch had left that he didn't know when his lunch was. "And that's our cue to start packing up," Jack said, stepping back into the living room. "Aho, everyone. The alarm just buzzed so let's get moving. Let's see if we can beat seven minutes today, THOSE PAPES DON’T SELL THEMSELVES!" Jack clapped and everyone started speeding around the apartment, in what Specs thought could only describe as efficient chaos. Blankets and sheets were torn of mattresses and folded in the same blink of an eye. The bare mattresses were then stacked in the corner of the room, while another group of kids began washing oatmeal bowls off and stacking them on the counter before grabbing lunch bags and passing them to their friends who they were labeled too. Specs felt a little less than useless, as he didn't know how to help and mostly felt like just a block in the gears of this morning machine. But when Jack and David started pointing him out to kids they were assisting and their eyes lit up with recognition, that feeling was washed away. "Specs! Guys, it's Specs!" A mid-teens Sniper called to his buddies, before running up and nearly knocking him over with his enthusiastic embrace. The kids talked at a mile a minute, and Specs didn't have time to answer all their questions before Jack yelled that it was time to go, and everyone rushed to get in a line in front of the door, their every hand gripping one of the brown paper lunches as they waved goodbye and filed out into the hall. Before he closed the door behind the last kid whose hand David was holding, Jack grabbed his and David's lunch and scanned the apartment before laying his eyes on Elmer. "Where the hell is Crutch?" He asked him, narrowing his eyes. Elmer's hands flew up with innocence, but before he could say anything, Jack snapped his fingers at him. "Don't be getting smart with me. I asked you to help him up here, and if I hear that it took any more than thirty seconds for you to be helping him up here, you're dead meat, you hear?" He said, his tone assertive. Elmer sighed and nodded, swinging his feet off the couch. "Okay, okay, I'm going, Jack." "Alright," Jack's face switched back to his cheerful morning grin. "Tell Jacobi I'm covering your lunch, Specs. Actually, I'm stupid. We all have lunch. Let's all meet at Jacobi's for an early dinner. Sounds good?" He looked around and everyone nodded. "Elmer, you get the word out to everyone before the end of the day?" "You's always asking me to do stuff," Elmer moaned dramatically. "Ah, yes well that's what those who are in charge are supposed to do. I can see why you got fired." Jack said snarkily. "Alright, see you after work. Love you Elms!"  And with that he shut the door before the pillow Elmer through could get to him.

"As you can see, Jack is a completely different person," Race said dryly, spooning the last bit of his oatmeal into his mouth and heading towards the door. Specs chuckled as he watched through the window as Elmer dropped down the fire escape again. "Okay, I gotta be on my way too. Crutch could probably use a hand if you don't have any plans for the day. And make sure Elmer leaves by noon otherwise not everyone will know to come to Jacobi's for dinner. See ya!" And with that, Race spun out the door, and Specs was left alone, seeing his childhood home a way he had never seen it before. Empty.

[addie-your-queen]

I Feel it, Can't You Feel it too?

"Can't you feel it, Davey?"

Davey closes his eyes, trying not to let the tears slip past, because, hell, he can feel it. He's felt it for a long time. And as much as he's tried to tell himself it isn't there, he knows it is.

~~~

"Are you asking me on a date, Jack Kelly?"

"I dunno," Jack said with a smile. "Are you saying yes?"

~~~

Davey is 15, Jack is 17, Sarah is 16, Kath is 17, and Charlie (Crutchie) is 14

Ship: Javid

Summary: Basically just Jack being in love with Davey and everyone knows it except him (: And also Jack interrupting everything Davey says.

Word Count: 2,295

Trigger Warnings: None

Read on AO3

Read on Wattpad

Jack lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The door opened. Jack didn't even glance over.

"Hey sweetheart," Medda said softly.

"Hey."

"Whatcha thinking about?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his head into her lap.

He stayed quiet for a while. Finally, he let out a sigh. "Mama?"

"What sweetheart?"

"Do you think... Am I good enough?"

"Of course you are, baby. What makes you say that?"

"Then how come no one likes me?"

"Plenty of people love you, Jack. I love you, your brother loves you, all your friends, like Race and Spot and Davey. They all love you too."

"But how come no one ever wants to go on a date with me? Did I do something wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, baby. Maybe there is someone else their heart belongs to. Maybe they just aren't ready for dating anyone yet. There's so many good reasons they could have, Jack, you didn't do anything wrong. One day you will find the right person to love you, I promise."

"But how do I find my person, Mama?"

"It just takes time, sweetheart. I can't tell you how to find them. You just have to let it happen. And when you do, you'll feel it in your heart. You'll know they're your person."

Jack sighed, looking up at her.

"You want to know my best piece of advice?"

Jack nodded.

"Sometimes, Jack," she said, "you can be so caught up in something new and spectacular that you forget what's been right in front of you the whole time."

"Who are you talking about? Who's the person right in front of me? Please tell me, Mama."

She smiled. "You will have to figure that out for yourself, my love."

He sighed. "Mama? Can you sing to me?"

She pushed the hair off his forehead and out of his eyes. "Of course, baby."

It's been a while since Jack has fallen asleep to Medda's singing. But lying with his head in her lap, her hand in his hair, he wondered why he ever stopped.

...

"Morning, Mama," Jack said, walking into the kitchen.

"Morning, Jack. Breakfast will be ready in a minute."

"Thanks, you're the best," he said, kissing her cheek and reaching around her for a glass. He held the glass under the tap for a minute.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good," he said dismissively. "Where's Charlie?"

"He's still asleep."

"Oh. Want me to wake him up?"

"No," Medda said. "Let him sleep. I'll call into school if he isn't awake in time."

Jack sits at the table as she sets a plate of pancakes down in front of him. He eats them thinking about their conversation last night.

"Mama?"

"What baby?"

"What's it like to be in love?"

"It's not really something I can explain, sorry Jack. All I can really say is they will make you feel loved. They will make you happy. It's really hard to put into words. Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"Oh. Thanks Mama."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Jack rinses his plate and puts it in the dishwasher. "I should go," he said, grabbing his backpack and keys from a hook by the wall and pocketing his wallet. "Bye Mama."

"Bye Jack. Don't forget you're driving Davey here this afternoon."

"I know," he called over his shoulder. "Just like every other day."

...

His friends always liked to come early to school, to hang out in the school newspaper room.

As he pulled up into a parking space, he spotted Davey getting out of Sarah's car. She didn't usually hang out with the rest of them before school, so she used the time to catch up on homework.

"Morning, Davey!" Jack said, falling into step beside him, the familiar fluttering feeling exploding inside him.

"Morning Jack."

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Jack rolled his eyes and continued. "You're smart right?"

"I mean, I wouldn't say-"

"Great!" Jack cut him off. "Mama was speaking in riddles again. I need your help."

"Oh um, okay."

"She told me that there is someone who has been right in front of me the whole time that might be my person."

"Well-"

"And she wouldn't tell me who."

"Maybe..." Davey paused, waiting to see if Jack was going to cut him off. "Sarah Maybe. Or Kath. That's all I can think of."

"No, she said it wasn't anyone I've dated. Or asked out, I guess."

"Oh I... I don't know who else it might be then."

Jack narrowed his eyes at him. He didn't sound like he was being completely honest, but what reason would Davey have to lie to him?

"Hey Davey?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever been in love? Like, really in love, not just a stupid crush."

"I..." he trailed off. "Yeah," he said softly. "I have."

"What's it like?"

"It's really hard to explain."

"That's what Mama said," Jack said with a frustrated sigh.

"I can try-"

"It's fine, Davey, really."

"Why you asking anyway? Think you might be in love with someone?"

"I dunno," Jack said. "I just figure that since Mama thinks there's someone in love with me or something, that maybe I was in love with them too, and didn't know it. (Jack, honey, you're so close, just- *frustrated screams even tho I'm the author*)

Neither of them said anything else, as Davey reached for the door handle, swinging it open wide enough for the both of them to step inside the school. The walk to the newspaper club meeting room was a quiet one. Opening the door though, they were greeted with the usual morning chaos that resulted from being friends with the Newsies, as they called themselves.

...

Jack was usually bursting with conversation on the ride home, but today he seemed lost in thought. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a while.

"I'll tell you," Davey said finally.

"What?"

"You wanted to know what it was like to be in love. I'll tell you."

"You sure? I thought you said-"

"I'm sure, Jack." He closed his eyes as if trying to imagine what it was like to be around whoever it was. "It feels almost- almost unreal. Like maybe I'm just imagining everything, and I'm going to wake up at any minute. It makes me feel... like I am on top of the world. Holding their hand, hearing their laugh, seeing their smile, makes me feel all warm inside. Being in the same room as them always gives me these stupid butterflies." He opened his eyes again, looking over at Jack. "That's the best I can explain. Sorry, that wasn't very good," he apologized.

"It's fine," Jack said. "That was actually really good. Thanks." Well, he definitely wasn't in love with Kath or Sarah or anyone he had dated before.

"You're welcome." It was barely a whisper.

"Tell me about them. About the person you are in love with. They sound like they make you really happy." He pushed away that stupid fluttering feeling.

Davey took a deep breath. "They do," he said. He paused for a moment. "Well, they have really beautiful, almost honey colored eyes and-"

"I don't think anyone could have eyes even half as pretty as yours, Davey," Jack interrupted.

"My eyes ain't pretty, Jackie," Davey said softly. Jack tried not to think about how cute he found it when Davey slipped into his accent.

"Course they is, Davey," he said. "Prettiest I've ever seen."

Davey looked down at his lap.

"Anyway," Jack said, "continue."

"Um," Davey said quietly. He sounded unsure of himself. Jack took a hand off the wheel, reaching over to grab Davey's hand, weaving their fingers together. He flinched a little before continuing. "They have really pretty golden hair and there's always this once piece that I really want to fix. And they have one of those smiles that you just can't help but smile too. I could see for hours staring at his smile and..." Neither of them seemed to realize the slip up of pronouns. "... And they are the kindest person I ever met. They're too kind for their own good really. They'd do anything for their friends at barely a moment's notice. Sometimes I think they are a little too self sacrificing to be healthy. And they're really sweet to me, even though they don't know I'm in love with them." The last part is barely audible.

"They sound really amazing," Jack says, squeezing Davey's hand.

"Yeah," Davey says, his eyes flicking up to Jack for a split second. "They are."

...

Later that night, after Davey had left, Jack sat at the kitchen table, homework spread out in front of him while Medda flitted around the kitchen preparing dinner. Though the homework was in front of him, he wasn't thinking of it, but rather the conversation he had had earlier in the car.

"Mama?"

"Hmm?"

"What's it like to be in love?" He knew he had already asked, but may as well try again.

"I already told you, baby, it's really not something I could put into words."

"That's what Davey said."

Medda smiled knowingly.

"Mama?"

"What sweetheart?"

"Is Davey in love with me?"

"You will have to ask him that, dear."

He considers all that Davey and Medda had told him. True, he had never felt that way about any of those girls but....

"Mama?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"I think I'm in love with him."

"Ah," Medda said, smiling.

"Every time I got that stupid feeling- it was butterflies and holding his hand and seeing his stupidly pretty eyes and-" he looks up to see Medda still smiling.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"Well I-"

Jack leapt up from the table, papers spilling onto the floor. Medda gave him an odd look. He sprinted up the stairs, bolting into his room. "Hey," he said to a confused Charlie, emerging from his room.

"Hi?"

Jack was back down the stairs in seconds, grabbing his keys and a jacket, fumbling to put it on as he unlocked the door.

"I'll be back for dinner," he called, finally opening the door and rushing out.

"Jack close the d-"

He was already gone.

Medda sighed, going to close the door before returning to her cooking. "That boy," she said, shaking her head.

...

Jack hastily parked his car, running into the apartment building, up a flight of stairs, and down the hallway, pounding furiously on the Jacobs' door.

"Dear heavens!" Mrs. Jacobs exclaimed. "David, get the door please."

Davey opens the door to find Jack, breathing like he just ran a marathon.

"Davey!" he pants. "Who is it?" he says between breaths.

Davey looked confused.

"Who are you in love with?"

Davey looked down at his feet. "Oh. I-"

Jack's eyes frantically search his features, looking for something, anything, that will tell him what he needs to know.

Mrs. Jacobs appeared over Davey's shoulder. "Hello, Jack, dear," she said. "Do come in."

Jack seems to suddenly realize he's been standing in the open doorway this whole time. "Oh, sorry," he said.

"No problem," she said. "But why don't you come in and close the door."

Jack steps inside, and Mrs. Jacobs closes the door behind him. Jack grabs a still frozen Davey's arm, pulling him in the direction of his room.

"Please, Davey," he says, shutting Davey's door. "Just tell me who it is."

Davey lets out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his hands into fists. He knew Jack wasn't going to wait much longer. He takes another shaky breath. Be brave, he told himself. That's what Sarah's always telling you. Be brave. "It's you," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. Be brave. "It's you," he says again, a little louder. "I'm sorry," he says.

Jack lets out a sigh of relief. "Can I- can I kiss you?"

Davey inhales sharply, stepping back. "Don't just- don't just say that because you feel bad for me."

Jack laughed. "Davey, I don't feel bad for you. Every time I held your hand, every time I called you pretty... Why do you think I wanted to know so bad what it was like to be in love?" He stepped forward, taking Davey's hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over the back of his knuckles. "Can't you feel it, Davey?"

Davey closes his eyes, trying not to let the tears slip past, because, hell, he can feel it. He's felt it for a long time. And as much as he's tried to tell himself it isn't there, he knows it is.

"Don't you get it?" Jack says, reaching to brush a tear from his cheek. "I'm in love with you, Davey."

Davey doesn't even realize he's crying, until Jack's hands are on his face, gently wiping away the tears. And suddenly he's kissing Jack, clumsily pressing his lips to Jack's, Jack almost stumbling back in surprise.

Davey doesn't know what he's doing. He's never kissed anyone before. All he knows is he's in Jack's arms, kissing him, and he feels safe. He feels loved. And he never wants it to end.

But far too soon, Jacks pulling away, resting his forehead against Davey's. "God, Davey," he breaths, "I'm just so damn in love with you."

Davey shoves him, and suddenly they're both laughing, because Jack sounded so serious and intimate, and Davey's shoving him because he should say 'God' like that and he shouldn't 'swear' either, and it's really not all that funny, but there in that moment, it really is.

When they've finally composed themselves, Jack's pulling Davey close to him again, kissing him softly. "So," he said. "How bout I take you to dinner on Friday?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Jack Kelly?"

"I dunno," Jack said with a smile. "Are you saying yes?"

[royalblue-star]

santa fe- zuko

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Song: Santa Fe from Disney’s 1992 Newsies

Summary: After weeks of seeing  families and friends reuniting, the reader gets fed up with it and hides behind false dreams. But Zuko is there to led them out of the dark and back into the light.

(Gif not mine)

It was a beautiful sight, getting to see everyone reunite with their friends and family. Katara and Sokka reunited with their father on multiple occasions, Toph found friendship with the people she used to fight against, and even Zuko was about to see his uncle again. I, however, had no one.

So that's what they call a family,

Mother, daughter, father, son

Guess that everything you heard about is true.

For as long as I can remember, it's been me against the world. I don't have many memories of my family. I remember bits and pieces of but not enough for them to feel real. Sometimes it feels like I dreamt them up for comfort as a child. I didn't need anyone. I was perfectly fine on my own, as had been and always will be. Sure, I had the Gaang, but that wasn't the same. As soon as this war ended, we would part ways and occasionally meet up.

So you ain't got any family,

Well, who said you needed one?

Ain't you glad nobody’s waiting up for you?

Besides, I had dreams to pursue after the war. I was going to head east and find the end of the world. I was going to meet all kinds of people, and no one would be here to stop me. I'll be able to prove that I am just fine on my own. That my dreams can come true, and anyone who stands in my way will regret it!

When I dream, on my own

I'm alone but I ain't lonely.

For a dreamer, nights the only time of day.

Currently, I was sitting in the tent that the Order of the White Lotus had provided, mapping out my adventure. Papers smothered in ink were scattered everywhere. The sound of scratching of my pen on paper was an attempt to drown out the noise from outside. It turns out everyone, except me, knew someone from the Order personally. Even Toph was friendly with General Iroh! I saw no reason to exit this tent and squash the rekindled relationships with my awkward presence. Besides, we were making our attack on the Fire Nation in a few days, and everyone probably wanted time with their old mentors.

"(Y/N)?"

I turned around to find Zuko, entering through the tent flap.

"Hey! Did you talk to your Uncle?"

When the cities finally sleeping,

All my thoughts begin to stray

And I'm on the train that's bound for

Santa Fe

"He forgave me after everything I did."

"Zuko, that's amazing! I told you he would forgive you."

"Yeah, you were right." He said, but I could tell he had something more on his mind.

"Is there something else you wanted to tell me?"

"I went looking for you, but you weren't there. Have you been in here this whole time?" He glanced down at the papers I had sprawled out everywhere.

"Yeah, I've been... planning."

And I'm free, like the wind

Like I'm gonna live forever.

It's feeling time can never take away.

I could tell by the look on his face that he knew what I meant by planning. That was something I loved about Zuko. He could tell how I was feeling just by looking at me. We had spent many late nights together telling stories and laughing. We had an undeniably strong bond, which for me had turned into a little crush.

"Why don't you come out and join everyone? You'll only tire yourself out before the battle even starts." He was right. I would end up overworking myself, but it seemed worth it just to avoid the pain of seeing people with their loved ones.

"That's okay. I wouldn't want to interrupt anyway."

"What do you mean?" He moved to sit down on the floor next to me. "You wouldn't be interrupting anything."

All I needs a few more dollars

And I'm out of here to say,

Dreams come true,

Yes they do

In Santa Fe

"Zuko," I sighed. "I don't have a reason to go out there. I'd just be in the way of everyone's happiness and reunions. In case you hadn't noticed, I don't exactly have anyone waiting for me."

"Yes, you do." His reply came instantly. "Sokka, Katara, Aang, Toph, me- They are all your family. I know it might not be what you had dreamed, but you have people that care about you. I care about you."

Where does it say you've gotta live and die here?

Where does it say a guy can't catch a break?

Tears pooled into my eyes. I guess I had been ignoring the family I had right in front of me. The Gaang was more than just a group of friends, we were a family, I was just too stubborn to see it.

"Look at you, Zuko. You got me all emotional." I joked.

"I'm being serious (Y/N). You mean the world to me."

"Thank you, Zuko, for being here. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Why should you only take what you're given?

Why should you spend your whole living

Trapped where there ain't no future,

Even at 17.

Breaking your back for someone else's sake?

He smiled and pulled me to my feet. "Come on, there's someone who wants to talk to you."

I let him lead me through the camp. Surprisingly, the sight of everyone sitting with their respective master was heartwarming and not as painful as I thought.

The thought of families being together used to leave me jealous and disgusted because I never actually had my own. But now I did, and the feelings of envy went away. They were replaced by a yearning that I had buried deep into my soul. Although, right next to the yearning there was a hint of comfort and peace.

If the life don't seem to suit ya,

How 'bout a change in scene,

Far from the lousy headlines

Or the deadlines in between.

Zuko led me inside a rather large tent in the center of the camp. In the middle of it sat an older man brewing a pot of tea. The man looked up at the two of us once we entered and smiled.

"Ah, is this the lovely (Y/N) that I've heard so much about?"

"Uncle, this is (Y/N). (Y/N) this is my Uncle."

General Iroh's smile was pleasant and comforting. So far, he seemed to be just as amazing as Zuko made him out to be. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, sir."

"There is no need for the formalities, dear. Please sit and enjoy some tea. You look like a jasmine tea girl."

"How did you-?" I questioned, taking a seat next to Zuko.

"Don't ask," Zuko whispered, causing me to giggle.

"So (Y/N)," Iroh began while pouring the three of us each a cup of tea. "My nephew tells me that you were the young lady to help him find a new source to draw his bending from."

Zuko and I both choked on our tea. What was that supposed to mean? I mean yeah, I told him to look inside himself and find something that brought out a feeling of passion, but that was it. Right?

"Uncle." Zuko hissed.

The old general chuckled, "I'm only kidding Prince Zuko," A mischievous twinkle had worked its way into the old man's eye.

'This is the first time I've met one of your lady friends."

"Uncle."

Santa Fe, are you there?

Do you swear you won't forget me?

If I found you would you let me come and stay?

The three of us sat and talked for a while longer before Zuko excused us from the tent. The prince had led me through the camp to where one of the empty bonfires was.

"Your uncle is a very fascinating man," I noted, laying my head on Zuko's chest.

"He is, isn't he." He chuckled. "He seemed to really like you."

"Now, I do have one little question for you."

"And what would that be?"

I angled my head to look him in the eyes. "How did your uncle know that I liked jasmine tea?"

Zuko's heartbeat sped up significantly. I mean, that thing was working so fast I thought the poor boy would pass out.

"I might've told him about you."

"Aw, Zuko, that's so sweet." I smiled up at him. His cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

"I told him that you were the best thing to ever happen to me. I told him that you were the source of passion for my bending. And I told him that I liked you.. a lot."

Now it was my turn for the heartbeat to go wild. So many thoughts were running through my head. "Zuko I-"

"I understand if you don't feel the same-"

"Zuko."

"I just thought you should know-"

"Zuko."

"-Before the comet comes and the war is either-"

I crashed my lips onto his. It took a second for him to comprehend what was happening, but I felt him kiss back. The passion behind it was so intense like we had waited too long to finally confess to each other. But each us needed to find ourselves before we could move forwards, and we had finally succeeded in doing that.

I ain't getting any younger

And before my dying days,

I want space

Not just air!

"Now will you listen," I mused once we broke the kiss. "I don't know how else to tell you if that kiss didn't send the message, but I like you. A lot."

"You do?"

"Of course I do, you idiot! I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't."

"Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend then?"

"You didn't need to ask."

Save a place,

I'll be there.

I did have a family. My family was the Gaang. Zuko was my family, I was just too blind to see it before. My dreams to escape had revealed themselves to be an attempt to fill the hole in my heart. Except I didn't know that it was already filled

So that's what they call a family,

Ain't you glad you ain't that way?

Ain't you glad you got a dream called,

Santa Fe.

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