#by people close to him i mean jack crutchie race and buttons

[orangesand-lemons-234]

I know JoJo is his newsie name, but I personally headcanon that people close to him call him Jitterbug, or Jitters.

[finchesslingshott]

i play like four newsies in this rp server so here are their love languages

finch cortez — words of affirmation + physical touch

despite having trouble reading/writing (DYSLEXIC KING!!!), finch values words a lot. he finds sappy, romantic poetry and gives it to buttons. he makes sure to check on his friends every single day. if something says something about him, good or bad, it'll stick to him for days.

his sensory issues go thru the roof and he really doesn't like physical touch from people he isn't super close with. only really allows it from buttons, race, davey, crutchie and mush — and even then, sometimes, it's a stretch. if he lets you hug him/hold his hand/play with his hair, know he cares about you a lot

mush meyers — quality time + physical touch

mush might just be the clingiest person known to mankind. after he and blink start dating, the latter gets an abundance of hugs, forehead/nose/cheek/literally anything kisses, hand-holding, hair-playing, and a lifetime supply of cuddles.

it means a lot to him when someone takes time out of their day to hang out with him. you don't even have to talk to him — just laying in bed with blink in his arms, or sitting in newsies square vibing with skittery and bumlets — anything he can do just to spend time with those he loves

crutchie morris — acts of service + quality time

crutchie is a lot like mush in the sense that when someone deliberately tries to spend time with him, it means the absolute world and then some to him. some of his favorite memories that he constantly goes back to are him sitting on the rooftop at night with jack— teaching finch and buttons how to fold different things out of not-sold papes— listening to davey read to him and the others. there's something about deliberate attention and care being given that just makes him happy

being disabled, naturally, a lot of things come a lot harder to crutchie than someone with both legs good and functional. he feels guilty and weak for asking for help, so he rarely does it (example a: "no i wanna get down :/"). but when someone does something for him without him asking for it, it makes his day. it reminds him that he's cared for, that he really does matter to someone.

i also play bumlets but i haven't had time to establish his character much yet; when i do, i'll rb and add his in :) enjoy losers

[sparkedblaze]

One of the more side characters (Medda, Specs, Buttons, etc)

Ask and ye shall be received:

Typical t/w: mentions of violence, cursing

Medda ✔️

Older actress. Doesn’t act much anymore, but still an important figure in the industry. Adopted Race, Jack, and Crutchie. Tweets her own tweets, only when the planets are in alignment. Everything else is just retweeting what Jack tweets (usually stuff about her projects, because that boy will tweet about anything Medda does. “Look who I found at the grocery store :000000 @medlark “ with a selfie of him with her in the bg)

She adopted Racer, Jack and Crutchie (in that order). Race was 12 when he was adopted, and says he's the oldest bc he was adopted first but he's absolutely the youngest. He's 14 when the other two are adopted. Jack Kelly-Larkin was semi-famous from a young age. He wasn’t famous by any of his own merits. He was the eldest adopted son of renowned actress Medda Larkin. She adopted him when he was 17. She had known his dad, and had met him years before then (he was 4), when she was doing charity work in New York orphanages. She would take him out to lunch when she got the chance, to try and re-get to know him, and she decided not long after that she wanted to adopt him. Before she could even get the paperwork printed off, he was moved to the Refuge. He doesn’t like throwing his Mom’s name around. He doesn’t like being harassed in public by paparazzi asking about her personal life, and things she wants to keep secret (future plans, places she likes to stay, things she does behind closed doors), because it’s none of their fucking business. Isn’t afraid of getting arrested kicking someone’s ass on behalf of his mom. Not afraid of jail. At all. Crutchie was adopted by Medda when he was 15. He’d been in the Refuge with Jack, and the older boy had told Medda that he wasn’t leaving Crutchie in those conditions. Told her that he was the only one that kept Crutchie from getting beat to hell on a daily basis, and he wasn’t going to leave him at the mercy of the other children. So, when Medda showed up the next day (she was wasting no time. She didn’t want what happened with Jack to happen again) with adoption papers for both boys, Jack gathered his and Crutchie’s stuff immediately, scooped him up, and got the fuck out of there.

Specs

ASMR youtube channel. Witchtok.

Trying to let people know that using tarot cards and doing witchy things isn’t taboo or scary or inherently bad, yk?

Also uses their platform to help people learn the meanings for all the different tarot cards, oracle cards, runestones, etc etc etc

Buttons✔️

They are a cosplayer! They attend cons religiously, and they do tutorials and such about making props and costumes. Them and Dutchy do a lot of cons together, and appear on each other’s channels a lot. They post costume progress videos and stream con crunch.

Buttons’ Closet: Tutorials about making props and costumes and painting. They’ve asked Jack for help with painting before, getting highlights and shadows and color matching. They’ve also tagged along on trips specifically to attend cons in other countries.

[nyoomnyoomplane]

🎆 How Long Have You Been a Fansie?

🎀 High Times, Hard Times or That’s Rich?

👀 Any Cut Songs That Deserved To Stay?

💭 Any Headcanons?

👔 Favorite Newsies Outfit?

Thank you so much for the ask!

🎆 How Long Have You Been a Fansie?

I listened to the cast album in full for the first time during the summer of 2020, I had listened to a few songs every now and again previously but never in full and I became obsessed immediately and then it launched a snowball effect and now it is all I talk about.

🎀 High Times, Hard Times or That’s Rich?

I like That’s Rich more mostly because the first time I heard it my only thought was that it was an absolute banger and I listened to it in repeat for DAYS. Then when I watched 92sies and heard High Times, Hard Times it just didn’t slap as hard so That’s Rich has always been my favourite.

👀 Any Cut Songs That Deserved To Stay?

92sies isn’t my preferred version of Newsies but I love The Truth About The Moon. A lot. The News Is Getting Better is also so much better than The Bottom Line. I feel like it makes Pulitzer seem like less of a cartoon-ish villain.

💭 Any Headcanons?

I have very many headcannons but here’s some of my favourites.

Jack is very touch starved, despite being very physical with all of his friends. He’s always touching people in one way when he talks with them. Think hands on shoulders, sitting close so they are touching, that sort of stuff. But still he’s seriously touch starved so Davey makes sure to always hug him or hold him close when they’re together and especially when they’re in private.

In a modern au, Jack, Crutchie and Race are siblings, all adopted from foster care by Medda (it’s basic but I love it). Jack and Race frequently gush about their crushes or the partners and Crutchie just sits there and drinks hot chocolate in aroace.

Crutchie drinks exclusively hot chocolate. He’s got a massive sweet tooth but denies it.

Buttons and Elmer are basically platonic soulmates and I will die on that hill.

👔 Favourite Newsies Outfit?

Okay, so I have only seen one picture of this outfit but I am obsessed and will be making it to wear when I go see west endsies.

The costume in question is of course this one;

I mean look at it. The waistcoat. The skirt. The black trimming on the collar and end of the skirt. It’s just perfection.

[carryingthebanner]

i’m so sorry i keep dumping my silly little questions on you

who in the newsies are the chips go on their sandwich and who are the ones who judge the ones who stick chips in their sandwiches

I love getting these so thank you!

Romeo would judge the ones who do, but will secretly eat them when he’s alone.

Specs used to eat it when he was younger, but doesn’t really like it now. He doesn’t necessarily judge the ones who eat it, but he thinks that his taste buds have ✨ reformed ✨ so he’s slightly pretentious about it (in a somewhat good-natured way).

Jack definitely puts chips in his sandwiches.

Les saw Jack do it, so now he does it as well. He claims it tastes better that way.

Davey thinks it’s just their “childish” taste buds, and tries it once. He hates it.

Katherine tries to convince Davey that it all goes down the same way, and she tries it to make a point by eating it. She doesn’t particularly like it but keeps eating it because again, she’s trying to make a point.

Albert definitely eats his chips in his sandwich.

Race doesn’t stick chips in his sandwiches, he sticks sandwiches in his chips. He likes taking out a little bit of mayo, meat, cheese, etc. and putting it between two chips. He says it gives it a “crisp edge”… whatever that means. Spot tells him putting chips in his sandwich would give it that extra crispiness too, but Race begs to differ. Romeo and Finch’s noses always wrinkle in disgust when they see it, which is one of the reasons why Race continues to eat it that way.

Mush doesn’t care. If he’s in a hurry, he’ll stuff the chips in his sandwich and eat it, but if not, he just eats it on the side. Spot does the same.

Smalls eats it however she feels like eating it that day.

Jojo absolutely eats it. In fact, he stuffs so many chips in there that they’re on the verge of falling out of the sandwich whenever he takes a bite. It’s his favorite snack.

Crutchie thought it was weird, and would sometimes joke about the ones who ate it. He eventually ate it because they were playing a guessing game, and when Crutchie closed his eyes, Jack made him try it. He was confused by the taste for a second but then immediately asked “Are these… chips?!” when Jack started trying to stifle his laughter. He was mildly horrified but admitted that it wasn’t all that bad.

Henry can’t look at chips inside a sandwich without gagging.

Buttons only eats his sandwiches with chips inside when the anti-chips-in-sandwiches newsies aren’t making sarcastic remarks and cracking jokes about the pro-chips-in-sandwiches newsies.

You know that audio that goes: “Immediately no. Immediately no. I’m telling you right now, I’ve seen what I needed to see”? Well yeah, that’s Darcy.

92sies Kid Blink always eats his sandwiches with chips in them but Livesies Kid Blink will only eat it if he has it in a meticulous order. He cuts his sandwiches a certain way, and puts the chips inside of them a certain way.

Mike eats it with chips inside as a joke. Ike finds it funny but doesn’t care to try it.

Elmer hated the idea of it at first, but now he can’t see himself eating it any other way. Like Jojo, it is his new favorite thing to eat.

Bill will stare you down and judge you so hard if he even sees one chip crumb inside of your sandwich. He and Romeo love to rant about it together.

Morris also judges people who eat their chips in their sandwiches and Oscar doesn’t care, but he’ll take any chance he can get to make fun of the newsies.

Medda tries it because Jack tells her to try it. He’s convinced it’s one of the greatest inventions known to humankind and Medda feels too bad to tell him that she hates it.

If you even gave Pulitzer a sandwich or chips, he would probably knock it off the plate or something idk. If he sees a newsie eating chips inside their sandwich, he’ll probably say something stupid about it being a “struggle meal.”

Hannah tries it and likes it, but pretends like she doesn’t when she’s in the presence of Pulitzer. She’s secretly asked the newsies to invite her to the cookout though.

[to-be-a-dreamer]

Ok ok so Crutchie ♒️🔆☮️

Ahh my boy!!! Alright hang on I gotta figure out what the symbols are for.

OH okay these are fun

Cooking/Food

I think he loves making cakes and cookies and stuff like that, but only the decorating part. The mixing and rolling and "actual baking" is alright but he'd rather let someone else cook the stuff and just come in at the end to make little frosting flowers and do pretty lettering. His cabinets are full of fancy piping tips, no less than a dozen different food coloring colors, a turn table for cake decorating, all that good stuff. Yet, this man does not own a rolling pin. Also, his toaster is older than he is. That's unrelated to the previous stuff, but it just feels right.

As for actual food, I think he has about a dozen different meals that he knows how to make without looking up a recipe and just cycles between them over the course of a few weeks. (Plus, like, sandwiches and canned soups and salads and stuff like that, I mean a dozen hot meals that involve multiple pots and pans and mixing and stuff) He occasionally tries a new recipe, but he knows what he likes and he knows his abilities. He gets all the nutrients and calories he needs and can splurge on take out if nothing he knows how to make sounds good.

His go-to dish for thanksgiving and Christmas and other gatherings is macaroni and cheese, the kind with more cheese than macaroni, and cracker crumbs sprinkled on top

Appearance

Oooh okay this is a fun one because I never really think about appearance. When I just think of Crutchie, I picture AKB but when I write him I don't think I do. I'd say he's on the shorter side, but not remarkably short, just under the average hight for someone his age. Kinda skinny, but still decently strong. I guess Zachary Sayle’s build? Idk this is why I’m not an fanartist, I don’t know what people look like. I usually write him as having dirty blonde hair, and I think he keeps it short, neat, and well-kept, but tries out new styles every once in a while.

His clothing style really just depends on the AU. He always likes bright colors, but he keeps it to one item per outfit that’s colorful or has a fun pattern, the rest is pretty neutral. So like, a simple pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt but then just a bright yellow button-up with flamingos on it. And funky socks. So many funky socks, but he especially loves the kind that look like normal socks until you take your shoes off and they look absolutely ridiculous.

I also typically write him as walking with crutches most of the time, but occasionally using leg braces, or a wheelchair if he needs it. I picture him using forearm crutches and they’re probably blue and there’s probably stickers on them.

Depending on the AU, he has pierced ears and mostly wears simple studs. They all look the same from a distance, but he actually has dozens of pairs in various different colors that he matches to his outfits. I also wrote several paragraphs on tattoos I think he would have in my Against Fate’s Design AU so you can read that here if you want.

Friendship

Besties with Jack, obviously. I always write them as having been best friends for several years before the story takes place, or being brothers if it fits the plot. It sometimes switches between which of them is older, but their dynamic is always the same. They look out for each other and aren’t afraid to call the other out when they’re being stupid (Jack needs to get slapped with reality more often than Crutchie, that man is such a himbo he’s becoming a hazard to society)

Also pretty close with Race (especially when I write them as brothers) and their personalities just match each other so well. They both make jokes a lot but Race is usually big and loud while Crutchie is deadpan and sarcastic. So oftentimes Race will make a joke to the whole room, Crutchie will mutter something beside him, and then Race becomes incomprehensible with laughter for several minutes. Crutchie always refuses to repeat what he said and Race can never keep a straight face long enough to say it.

But beyond those two, I think him, David, and Katherine would be a great trio. They’re all the “smart and responsible” ones in their own ways, but when they’re left alone together, every single brain cell within a ten-mile-radius just disappears. You think the Race/Al/Finch trio are a menace? When they get left alone without supervision they come back with a dozen baby chicks and a goldfish. When Crutchie, Davey, and Katherine are left alone together something ends up broken, on fire, blown up, or all three in the name of science. AKA: One of them asked the other two “what would happen if we broke, burned, and/or blew up this random household object?” The answer is chaos, just always chaos.

[louisapennyfeather2021]

Can you do a Jack Kelly sister x race or Albert (up to you) and Jack finds you guys kissing and is about to kill race or Albert. Then you all sit down and Jack gives the classic dad talk. This could be plantonic Jack/ race or Albert love. (You also don’t have to make it a sister I’m just a girl myself haha)

I finally made myself do this, mostly because I said I'd have it done by Friday and that's in less than four hours, but I'll(hopefully) make it happen!!! Have I finished my essay? Of course not, but I did finished my math tests! Planned procrastination is somewhat effective, right?

Anywho, here it is!

Relationships: Brother!Jack, Reader x Albert

Pronouns: She/Her as the person who asked did clarify that she is a girl :)

(psst... I can always make this with they/them pronouns if anyone would like that)

A/N: This is definitely not my best work, but it's not bad!!! I always feel awkward trying to write Dad Talks, but never enough to not write them at all!!! Maybe it'll help that I'm awkward with it so it'll be projected onto my work haha!

Warnings: some kissing, a bad word or two. That's about it? Oh, also, I'm really bad at writing kissing stuff lmao

Setting: 1899 Duane Street Lodging House

***

"No, Y/N, you gotta wear ya cap right or ya gonna look like ya ain't got hair." Jack snatches Y/N's hat from off her head before flipping it and placing it on her head correctly.

"Jack, cut it out! Ain'tcha got somethin' better t' do?" Y/N swats at her brother's hand, ducking to avoid his mother hen behavior.

"He ain't got nothin' t' do cause he's too busy hoverin'." Crutchie snorts from where he sits on the front steps of the lodging house. Jack throws a half-hearted glare at Crutchie, which gives Y/N enough time to sneak past Jack and hurry down the street towards Newsies Square.

"Hey, where d'ya think yer goin'?" Jack calls. Y/N huffs and shakes her head before looking over her shoulder. As soon as she does, she takes off sprinting down the street, Jack chasing her down. Y/N squeezes past some of the guys that are making their way down the street, successfully managing to not completely shove Jojo into a walk on accident.

It's not unusual for Jack to be so overbearing, specifically with Y/N. Sure, he's oddly protective over all the Newsies, but he practically turns into a bear with Y/N. Jack says it's because she's his "baby sista' 'nd nothin's ever gonna happen to no sister o' mine."

Y/N understands to an extent, of course, but it makes some things, well, difficult. Specifically hanging out with friends. Or maybe someone who's more than a friend.

"Someone's rushin' this mornin'." Racetrack Higgins snorts as Y/N hurries to duck behind him and Buttons. Both wait outside the gates for Weasel to come open them. Albert leans on the gate opposite of Race, raising an amused eyebrow at Y/N. She playfully narrows her eyes at him before breathing a sigh.

"Just my parasite of a brotha'. Again." Y/N grumbles. Jack treats her like she's still a kid, when really she's just a year and a half younger than him. To some folks, that's a lot, but when you're forced to grow up on the streets of New York, it's just numbers.

"Ain't like he's doin' it for nothin'." Race scoffs a laugh, sharing a knowing look with Buttons before glancing between Albert and Y/N where she's still hiding behind the two smirking boys.

"Oh, shuddup. Jack ain't gotta worry about what he don't know about." Y/N glares pointedly at both Race and Buttons.

"Don't worry, I've kept Racer from hawkin' yer secret t' all of Manhattan." Buttons shoves Race's shoulder. Race squawks in protest and he starts arguing with Buttons. Y/N laughs, knowing Race would keep her secret no matter what. It's just funny to see Buttons get a rise out of Race.

"Could be worse. Buttons could'a taken his cigar." Albert chuckles, although he absentmindedly rubs his upper arm. He's learned the hard way not to take the blond boy's comfort object. However, that doesn't keep him from occasionally stealing it.

"You'd know how that turns out." Y/N sneaks behind Race as he argued with Buttons and stands next to Albert. She doesn't stand too close, especially since Jack is probably on his way with the rest of the fellas.

The last thing Y/N needs is for Jack to get suspicious of her and her relationships.

So Y/N just leans on the gate near Albert, both laughing as Race and Buttons start on a tangent. Eventually the others gather around, Jack and Crutchie being the last to actually show up. As soon as he's at the gate, Jack starts fussing over Y/N's hat again. She smacks his hand away and glares at him, receiving a horribly hidden laugh from Albert.

"Would you stop swattin', I'm tryin' t' make ya not look like a hooligan." Jack huffs.

"You know we're a bunch'a kids that sell papes for a livin', right? Hooligan is the nicest thing folks can call us." Y/N rolls her eyes. Jack opens his mouth to respond, but he doesn't get the chance. Instead, the sound of the gates rattling and snarky comments fills the air. Y/N turns to see none other than Oscar and Morris Delancey hesitantly opening the gates.

"What, no hello?"

"Wake up on the wrong side'a the cave this mornin'?"

"Aw, did'ya not have someone t' tuck ya in last night?"

The jabs make Y/N's face go red to hide her laughs. The dramatic eye rolls and frowns on the Delancey Brothers' faces are pure gold. Y/N doesn't doubt that either brother would go after any Newsie if it wouldn't get them in some trouble. After all, good ol' Mr. Pulitzer needs someone to make money for him.

As some of the guys keeps teasing the brothers, Y/N sneaks past them with Buttons, Albert following not too far behind. The three line up to get their papers, waiting for Weasel to slither his way to the distribution stand.

"Alright, line it up!" As if hearing his name, the Weasel himself stands grumpily behind his money box.

"Mornin' Weasel! Long time, no see!" Y/N grins brightly. The annoyed twitch under Weasel's left eye is enough to make Y/N snort.

"Not long enough." He grumbles.

"Aw, don't be such'a grump." Y/N mock pouts. She pulls a dime from her pocket and flips it onto the money box before moving down to take a stack of papers. She's grateful when Morris hands her the stack, although he does it with a sneer. Nice to know he's not specifically angry at her, at least not angry enough to throw her papers at her like he'll likely do to Jack and definitely to Race.

Y/N waits by the gates for her selling partner, aka the one and only Albert DaSilva. Thankfully Jack hasn't picked up on the Y/N and Albert almost always being partners. They switched it up once and a while to throw off any suspicion, but they're usually selling together. After all, it's one of the only times they can be together without the worry of Jack seeing.

"Ain'tcha sweet for waitin' for me?" Albert teases as he reaches the gate, his head down as he organizes his stack of papers in his bag.

"We both know you'd get lost if I let'cha go alone." Y/N snorts a laugh. She successfully ducks a playful swat from Albert before she looks over his shoulder. She sees Jack taunting Weasel and she knows she has a few seconds to leave before her brother chases her down. "C'mon, best we get a head start on Jack."

"Well stop screwin' around then." Albert grins and hurries out of the square, Y/N right on his heels.

They hurry through the streets of Manhattan towards the Brooklyn bridge. They usually take up selling along the waterfront, sometimes a few blocks around the bridge. They mostly sell at the bridge because it's one of the furthest spots from where Jack sells. Meaning they can hang out once they finish selling morning papers in peace.

"Bet I can sell all my papes b'fore you can even hawk a headline." Albert elbows Y/N's arm as they reach the bridge, the area slowly coming to life as people hurry to get to work.

"You're on." Y/N smirks before hurrying across the street to start selling.

The two spend most of the morning selling, taking a few small breaks to hide in the shade of an alleyway from the July sun. Y/N manages to finish selling her last paper just a few minutes after Albert. The red head is all smirks when he notices Y/N finish after him.

"Don't come smirkin' at me, you bet that you could sell out before I even started. You didn't say nothin' about finishin' first." Y/N points a finger at Albert as they turn down one of the alleyways behind the produce market. Y/N holds an apple in hand and Albert has a pear.

"Should'a bet I'd win first, that way I'da got a free lunch." Albert sighs dramatically and takes a bite of his pear. Y/N rolls her eyes for what feels like the millionth time today before eating her apple.

"I still don't see how ya eat those things." Y/N mumbles.

"I don't see how you can't!" Albert scoffs before finishing his pear.

"Too sweet. And soft, they make a mess." Y/N shrugs and takes another bite of her apple.

"You just can't handle how sweet pears are cause you're so bitter." Albert laughs. Y/N's mouth drops open and she doesn't hesitate to throw the core of her apple at Albert, effectively hitting his neck. Albert gapes, although there's a slight upturn at the corner of his lips. "Low blow, Kelly!"

"Aw, did I hurt the your ego on accident?" Y/N can't hold back the laugh the bubbles up from deep in her stomach. Albert gives her a "seriously?" look before he jumps at her. Y/N accidentally let's out a panicked squeak before turning. She gets a few steps before Albert wraps his arms around her and squeezes her into a hug from behind. "No fair!"

"I think you should apologize." Albert hums, his chin on top of Y/N's head. She's not short, but the way she's standing makes it easy for Albert to rest his chin in top of her head.

"Do you realize how awkward this is?" Y/N squirms. Her feet are in front of her and she's practically leaning against Albert, it's almost like she's trying to sit down. "Seriously, I think you're gonna break my back."

"Apologize 'nd I'll let go." Albert starts swaying back and forth, making Y/N grip his arms and shuffle her feet to keep from completely slipping to the ground.

"Ain't got nothin' t' apologize for." Y/N finished the sentence in time for Albert to sway further and nearly drop Y/N on her bottom. She squeaks again, making the obnoxious red head laugh and try to keep a firm grip on her so she won't fall.

"You're ridiculous." Albert shuffles back and helps Y/N stand up, laughing when she huffs in annoyance. Albert moves around to stand in front of Y/N, his arms crossed as he meets her faux annoyed expression. "I still think you owe me 'n apology."

"I don't see no reason why." Y/N shrugs, although the corners of her mouth twitch up into a horribly suppressed smile.

"That's a lousy thing t' say." Albert pouts, receiving a raised eyebrow from Y/N. The girl takes a small step closer to Albert and shrugs her shoulders slightly.

"Lousy ain't always bad." Y/N jokingly winks. Albert shakes his head with a laugh before naturally gravitating closer to Y/N. She follows until her nose bumps Albert's, the two of them getting closer until Y/N closes her eyes and feels Albert's mouth lightly touch hers.

Y/N hums into the kiss as Albert reaches up and rests his hand on the side of her neck. She follows, her hand gently wrapping around Albert's wrist and her thumb rubbing the soft skin. She can't help but smile as she moves her mouth againsr Albert's. This is far from the first time they've kissed, but with how little time they get to spend together, every kiss feels like the first.

Y/N still gets butterflies in her stomach. She still gets that happy high afterwards.

But even the happy high can end in a snap.

"Oh, hell no." Y/N's eyes snap open and she quickly pulls away from Albert. Her wide eyes meet Jack's furious frown as he stands near the mouth of the alleyway. Behind him, Race stands with an apologetic expression, Crutchie next to him with a hand over his mouth like he's holding in a laugh.

"Oh boy." Y/N whispers. Albert turns around, his expression matching Y/N's.

"Hey, Jack..." Albert awkwardly waves at the fuming boy.

"You're dead, DaSilva." And that's all it takes for Albert to bolt down the other end of the alleyway, Jack right on his heels. Y/N just stares in shocked silence, hardly noticing Race and Crutchie come to a stop next to her.

"I swear, I tried to distract him." Race rushes, although Y/N doesn't seem to hear as she opens and closes her mouth in shock.

"You are so in for it." Crutchie busts out laughing.

I'm so dead, Y/N thinks.

***

"Jack, you need t' calm down!"

"Calm down?! He was suckin' my sista's face!"

"Oh, no, gross, that's definitely not what we were doin'."

"You stay out of this!"

"Okay, everyone shuddup!" Y/N yells from one corner of the rooftop of the lodging house. Crutchie leans against the fire escape, watching and occasionally throwing in a comment or two. Jack paces around the roof, eyes narrowed in on Albert. The red head stands near the edge of the roof, as if he's ready to make a break for it if need be. Y/N stands somewhat between Albert and her fuming brother, sort of like a last resort for a barrier between the two. Y/N faces her brother, her arms crossed under her chest and her mouth set in a thin line. "Jack, it was just'a kiss 'nd I like Albert. S'nothin' wrong with that."

"Nothin' wrong with that? Everything's wrong with that! You're my sista', Albert's s'posed t' be my pal! Seein you two lockin' lips is just-" Jack wiggles around and gags, his nose scrunching up.

"Oh, we are not having this conversation because the thought of your sister kissin' a boy makes ya uncomfy." Y/N rolls her eyes before planting her hands in her hips.

"She has a point." Crutchie comments. Jack whines and shuffles around like he's about ready to throw himself off the rooftop.

"That don't change the fact that it's gross and weird and just wrong. She's my sister." Jack stares down Albert and points at Y/N.

"Yeah, 'nd it just so happens I was kissin' someone you know and trust! S'not like I was kissin' a Delancey or nothin'." Y/N's comment makes the other three on the roof gag and squirm uncomfortably. "Oh, we all know it's true!"

"Doesn't mean we wanna hear it." Albert shivers in disgust.

"Alright alright alright." Jack exhales heavily. He paces a few more times, shakes his head and pursing his lips. Y/N waits in silence with Albert and Crutchie, all three knowing Jack needs a second. When he finally stops pacing, all the attention trains in on him. "Fine, okay, s'not the worst thing ever, I'm gonna set some ground rules."

"What?!"

"Seriously?" Y/N whines, something she unfortunately shares with her older parasite- um, brother.

"Yes. Now I d'know how long this has been goin' on, but I'm sayin' right now that we will not be havin' any littles-"

"I'm gonna be sick." Y/N gags, and it's unfortunately a legitimate gag that makes bile sting the back of her mouth. Albert must inhale sharply and start choking on his spit because he starts coughing obnoxiously. Even Crutchie, who had found the whole situation so hilarious, looks like he's going to be sick.

"Oh, quit it ya pansies." Jack huffs. He angles towards Albert, his eyes narrowed again. "'Nd you. If you hurt my sista' in any way, I swear you'll find yourself swimmin' in the East River in no time."

"I'm definitely not planning on it." Albert manages to say before coughing and clearing his throat, his eyes watery from coughing.

"Good." Jack nods in satisfaction. He looks at the sky and seems to ponder before signing. "Get'a move in, gonna have evenin' papes out soon."

Albert throws an anxious look at Y/N before hurrying to the fire escape. He disappears, Crutchie quickly following and leaving the Kelly siblings alone.

"Y'know, ya could'a told me." Jack's shoulders sag. Y/N kicks her foot awkwardly, her eyes trained in the ground.

"Not if it risked ya reactin' the way ya did t'day." Y/N mutters. She looks up to see Jack sigh and move closer to her.

"I can definitely tell ya I wouldn't have chased him down." Jack snorts.

"I guess that would've been a perk." Y/N hums. She meets Jack's gaze and suddenly the two start laughing. Jack reaches over and playfully shives Y/N's shoulder.

"C'mon, weirdo. We got papes t' sell." Jack shakes his head.

Y/N smiles and follows him off the roof.

That's one crisis averted.

Granted, they still have the rest if the day left.

[thetomorrowshow]

unless you take your army back ch. 5

First  -  Previous  -  Next  -  Read on AO3!

yo once again giving you guys a chapter how’s everyone doing? My posting dates will never again be on tuesday lol expect wednesdays or fridays when possible <3

anyways other business if you see an A/N in here somewhere (it’ll be between brackets) lmk and I’ll edit it out

Enjoy :)

cw: food, eating disorders, discussion of injuries

~

Jack didn’t leave to sell papes the next morning, instead bringing a cup of coffee and some porridge to Crutchie, then settling in beside him with a real fancy sketchbook and a charcoal pencil.

The coffee wasn’t that great, but Crutchie drank it all, hoping the energy would distract him from the uncomfortable tightness of his fresh bandages. Only one of the cuts that had split open was one that had needed stitches (Katherine had snipped the thread and pulled it out three days ago), but they would all probably scar. At least he already liked to wear long shirts and pants.

The porridge was fine, but rich. After about four bites, Crutchie rested the bowl on the windowsill. Just weeks ago, he would’ve been able to scarf down twice that amount in a matter of minutes, but now he could barely handle eating enough to feed a baby. He was sure he’d get better faster if he’d just eat more, but he just--couldn’t.

This wasn’t even the first time Crutchie had seen kids have trouble eating. At least half the newsies who did a stint in the Refuge came back uneasy around food, too accustomed to there being too little to go around. A lot of food was a trick, just the right amount was too much to stomach, and the little bit that they felt they needed wasn’t enough to keep them going.

So Crutchie knew that what he was going through with his food aversion was normal--expected, even. The frustrating problem was that Crutchie knew how to fix it. He had seen the others go through this, had watched Jack and Race and Specs help others, had even guided Tommy Boy through recovery himself just a few months ago. He knew the signs, he knew how to work through it, and yet he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t snap himself out of it.

Just the thought of food made him queasy, scared, uncertain of what was to come. When the guards brought food, it meant the respite was over. It meant scraps shoved down his throat as quickly as possible, followed by a day of grueling, pointless work with no breaks. He didn’t have the time to finish this bowl of porridge. More than a few bites and he was going to be tardy, the guards were going to beat him and he would fall and he wouldn't be able to get back up, not again not again not again--

“Crutchie, you gonna finish that?”

Crutchie looked up from his lap to see Jack, concern creasing his brow. He shrugged, not sure if he could even pretend to smile. “I didn’t see you eat, wanted to save some for you.” He didn’t need anyone’s help. He knew how to handle this.

Jack frowned. “Nah, I ate on the way up, nicked a bun. Is there some . . . other . . . reason?”

Stupid Jack Kelly and his ‘subtle’ prodding. Crutchie stretched his arms out a bit, affecting a casual look. A bandage rubbed against a raw patch of his chest, but instead of burning, it . . . itched.

That meant he was starting to get better, right? Or was it infected or something? Whatever it meant, it was a good excuse.

“Not really, just been itchin’ all mornin’, so I ain't all that hungry,” he explained, scratching his stomach for emphasis. “Bit bothering, y’know?”

He was sure he didn’t quite have Jack convinced, but it was enough for him to drop the matter. After all, Jack was under the impression that Crutchie had eaten a whole apple the morning before, and he’d been fairly good at emptying bowls of soup all week (not necessarily into his mouth, but Jack didn’t need to know that).

After a moment’s hesitation, Jack smiled. “Hey, itchy, huh?” He lightly punched Crutchie’s knee, which also didn’t hurt like he expected. “That’s good, means stuff is startin’ ta close up and heal.”

Crutchie nodded, feeling something in his chest try to jump excitedly. Even after falling so badly last night, he was getting better. That meant that maybe soon, he could be right back out there, hawking headlines and getting enough pity from his regulars and strangers to make twice the amount he usually did.

Thinking of it-- “Jack, why ain’t you out sellin’?”

Jack looked away--ashamed? Guilty? What? Had he gotten in trouble with the bulls again already? Jack muttered something, then buried his face in his new sketchbook, the tips of his ears burning red.

“That ain’t gonna cut it,” Crutchie said incredulously. “Who d’ya think I am, Race? I ain’t distracted that easy.”

Jack huffed, but didn’t drop his sketchbook. In a barely audible voice, he said very quickly “I soaked the Delanceys yesterday and the fellas think I oughtta stay away from ‘em and maybe take a day off ta give ‘em time ta forget about it.”

Okay, but attacking the Delanceys was something Jack did on a weekly basis. The Delanceys weren’t bright enough to carry a grudge overnight, and they were in a constant state of goading Jack, so what was different about this time?

Then Crutchie remembered their argument last night, what Jack and Davey had told him about how Oscar and Morris had been talking.

“Have they, uh,” Crutchie started, quiet, “been talking about . . . uh, ‘bout me . . . all week?”

Jack stiffened from behind his sketchbook, but nodded jerkily. “Tha’s what Specs said, anyhow.”

“Right.” Crutchie swallowed, looking away out the window. Buttons was out there, looped around a fire escape, calling something through cupped hands. The Delanceys were somewhere out there too, and could be talking about him that very moment, maybe even making plans to come after him. There was no way he could stop them, no way anyone could stop them. After all, Jack couldn’t be here all the time, and Kloppman was old, wiry but feeble compared to Oscar and Morris. They could take the man down in no time, then be up here and Crutchie would have nowhere to go and no way to escape.

Crutchie was suddenly very glad that Jack was here.

There were a few moments of silence, during which Crutchie continued to watch Buttons. His grin was visible even from this distance, growing wider any time he managed to sell a paper or two. Buttons had been having trouble selling lately--he was a little timid, too shy when it counts--so it was nice to see him having some success.

The lady talking to him now seemed nice, by the way Buttons was nodding and had fully disentangled himself from the fire escape to converse with her. The lady turned slightly, her face visible under her sun hat, and--hey! That was one of Crutchie’s regulars! She bought a paper on her way to visit her mother-in-law every other day, and always passed Crutchie’s selling spot on purpose. It was nice to see her again, almost . . . sentimental. Crutchie never thought he would feel almost misty-eyed over some lady whom he briefly interacted with a handful of times a week, but here he was. More than miss her, he missed being out there, he supposed.

“Hey, Crutch?”

Crutchie startled out of his thoughts. The woman was no longer there, Buttons once again attaching himself to the fire escape. Jack was watching him, a carefully disguised look of something on his face. Crutchie raised his eyebrows.

“Uh, so, I missed a union thing, what with last night,” Jack said. “So I’m gonna hafta do it today sometime. That cool with you?”

“What sorta thing?” Crutchie asked suspiciously. If it involved reporters and pictures and all that, Crutchie was not going to allow it to happen in here.

Not that you could stop it, a nasty voice in the back of his mind whispered, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. Jack could do anything to you right now. He was pretty angry last night, after all. You know what anger leads to.

Crutchie swallowed drily. He didn’t need to think about that.

“Oh, just a guy I gotta meet with,” Jack said, far too casually. He made a show of scratching his head. “He might bring another couple o’ fellas with him, so I’s just . . . lettin’ you know.”

Okay, so this wasn’t something he could stop. Great. That calmed him down so much. Crutchie gripped the blanket over him tightly, trying to not show that his hands had begun to tremble. He was fine, he didn’t need Jack getting all worried over nothing. It was just some . . . unknown guy. With bodyguards. Coming into the room to have a discussion with Jack.

“Hey. Hey.”

Crutchie pulled himself from his spiral to see Jack laying his hands over his. “It’s okay,” Jack said seriously. “I can chat with ‘em in another room, or outside. You don’t oughtta have guys in here that you ain’t know.”

Crutchie released his grip, more to assuage Jack than his nerves. He nodded, not sure what he was even expected to say. What if a fight broke out? And Jack was all alone, against three or four guys? He couldn’t let Jack be alone.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Crutchie said hoarsely. Wow, he needed something to drink. He hadn’t noticed his throat drying up. “I uh, I can be your second?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he regretted them. Of course Jack didn’t want him as his second! He was just some stupid, useless, injured cripple, and Jackhad to still be mad at him for last night. He’d want Davey there, probably--Davey was one of the union heads too, right? And Davey was so good at talking things through and being all smart. All Crutchie could do was make people laugh or feel bad for him--great for selling papes and living on the street, terrible for union business.

“Would ya?” Jack asked. He almost looked a little bit relieved, which took Crutchie aback. “You know how I can get. It’s--it’s nice, havin’ somebody backin’ me up. ‘Specially you, Crutch, you’s real good at talkin’ to folks.”

The air left Crutchie’s lungs. Was he? He was pretty good at selling to just about anyone. Jack used to joke that he would be able to sell a pape to Pulitzer himself for a dollar, without the man even realizing it was his own paper or too high a price. Jack would say that to just about anyone who would listen, actually.

How had Crutchie forgotten that?

“Who’s these folks, then?” Crutchie asked, shifting a bit so that his head was almost level with Jack’s. He liked to think that he was pretty accustomed to the broken ribs at this point--they hurt, but he could now sit up without even breathing heavy. After the week he’d had, Crutchie counted that as a win.

Jack’s carefully casual air was back, clear in the stiff lines of his body and the forced half-grin on his lips. “Just some guys who got a say in newsie union stuff, y’know? From one o’ the other turfs.”

That made sense, actually. The Manhattan newsies weren’t the only ones in the union, after all. In fact, if what Elmer had excitedly told him was true, Davey had shook hands with Spot Conlon and led him straight to Pulitzer’s office, after Conlon had spoken at Davey’s rally--

Oh.

Oh no.

“You’s bringin’ Spot Conlon to the place we sleep?!”

“It was--”

“No no no, lemme get this straight,” Crutchie said, incredulous. “Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn borough, is comin’ here. To Manhattan’s lodging house. Now I know that Brooklyn joined the strike, but there is no way we’s become friends with Brooklyn in the two weeks I ain’t been around, and ya don’t show allies where ya sleep.”

“They already knows where we sleep, there’s a huge sign on the buildin’!” Jack shot back. He dropped his work and gestured widely. “Manhattan newsboys lodgin’ house, in big ol’ letters, smack on the front! Was it s’posed ta be a secret? Or do ya think they just can’t read?”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Crutchie replied stubbornly. “Ya don’t invite them into your home, you hold ‘em at arm’s length for when they in’vitably scab!”

“Well, that ain’t no way ta treat your allies,” a voice said from the doorway.

Crutchie and Jack both looked up to see the man himself, an unimpressed Spot Conlon, with two lackeys--and also Racetrack. Race waved casually.

“Hey Jack, hey Crutch!” Race said. “Spot’s here ta meet with ya.”

Jack strode across the room, spat and shook with Spot, anxiously adjusting his hat with his other hand. “Nice ta see ya, Conlon,” he said, the geniality in his voice a stark contrast from his heated arguing moments before. Crutchie snorted. Jack shot him a glare.

“So, what’s sayin’ we get straight ta business, Kelly?” Spot suggested, walking further into the room without invitation. Race tipped his hat at them all, then stuck his cigar in his mouth and took off. “This here’s Hotshot, and the other’s Sharpshooter,” Spot threw out, gesturing at the two guys with him. They each nodded in turn.

“Right,” Jack said, “This is Crutchie, he’s my second.”

Spot turned a piercing gaze on Crutchie. Crutchie felt his face heat up as Spot’s sharp eyes took in the patchwork of yellow-brown bruises on his face and throat, the scabbed-over gash on his temple, the splint wrapping his left arm. Finally, he turned away to face Jack.

“You met with Joe of late?” Spot asked. Jack nodded.

“Saw ‘im yesterday. No complaints from his side--he’s sayin’ they’s already noticed circulation goin’ up. You’s been meetin’ with the Journal and the Sun, yeah?”

Spot gave an affirmative nod. “We got ‘em where we want ‘em,” he said with a chuckle. Crutchie waited for him to elaborate. He did not.

Jack seemed sort of disconcerted--Crutchie wondered if Spot could tell. This was all happening so suddenly. Moments ago, Crutchie hadn’t even known anyone was coming. Now there were three Brooklyn newsies standing over his bed, and he couldn’t do anything to defend himself or make them leave. Brooklyn was always angry, always jeering, doing nothing to strengthen the tentative peace they had come to a few months ago.  Really, Crutchie had good reason to be wary. Brooklyn newsies had more than once kicked his crutch out from under him.

Spot and Jack were talking about something, but Crutchie couldn’t really pay attention to them. The one called Sharpshooter was staring him down, in a way that said both I’m-trying-to-intimidate-you and I-don’t-need-to-intimidate-you-weakling. Hotshot was doing the exact same thing to Jack, but Jack seemed unbothered. Crutchie was pretty sure he wasn’t pulling that off near as well. He hadn’t been stared at like that--like he was a piece of dirt that stubbornly remained as you scrubbed at a window--since he’d been . . . there. The Refuge.

Crutchie turned his gaze to the window. Buttons was out of sight, the fire escape likely blazing hot in the sun. There weren’t very many people visible whatsoever--it was stifling out, which was probably why Brooklyn was already here. Selling would have to be done in a very particular fashion today--morning, at the coolest, when everyone was headed for work, then around the lunch hours, then the last few in the evening. Crutchie felt bad for the likely sunburned newsies, frantically trying to sell all their papes in those short windows of time, clothes sticking to them with sweat and the hot air weighing them down.

“Hey, Crutch?”

Crutchie looked back to the conversation. Jack was watching him expectantly, as was Spot. Crutchie tried to not look clueless--he had really been zoning out, hadn’t he? How much time had passed? Why was everyone looking at him?

“D’you mind answerin’ any questions Spot has? I’m gettin’ us all some water.”

Crutchie nodded. It couldn’t be that hard, right? He had totally lost track of the conversation, but he knew a fair bit about what had happened and what was going to happen with the union, mostly from Jack rambling in the afternoons when the silence became too much for one of them.

“So,” Spot said brusquely as soon as the door closed behind Jack. “All that from the strike?”

Crutchie blinked. All what? He needed a bit more context. He should’ve been listening. He opened his mouth to ask, then saw Spot vaguely waving at his body. Oh.

“Nah,” Crutchie mumbled, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Some of it, yeah. Mostly the Refuge, though.”

Spot sucked a breath in through his teeth, and Hotshot turned away. “Looks like you was lucky to make it out alive.”

“Oh, yeah,” Crutchie said bitterly. He almost laughed. “By the end there I was ’lucinatin’ so bad I thought I’d been buried already. Probably I was hours from bein’ gone forever.”

Silence. He’d made it awkward, hadn’t he? Crutchie tried to come up with some useful purpose for Spot Conlon to know this, like maybe he’d get pity or sympathy or something and the Brooklyn newsies would leave him alone, but it honestly sounded worse than Conlon straight up hating him. Crutchie was tired of being pitied. He was tired of being a charity case.

“How long?” That was Sharpshooter, his voice pitched a lot higher than Crutchie expected. It didn’t quite match his height and dark eyes.“Was you there, I means.”

“A week, I think. It’s sorta blurry.”

Spot whistled. “Snyder musta had it out for ya. All that in just a week? I’s had boys in there for months come out lookin’ better.”

Again, Crutchie almost laughed. “Everybody has it out for the crip,” he said bluntly, his eyes on his hands as he twisted the blanket between his fingers. “Throw in my personal connection ta Jack Kelly union leader, and a week is a long time ta be lastin’.”

Crutchie looked up. Spot was giving him a strange look--it wasn't pity, like Crutchie expected. It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t even shock that he was still alive. It was--he didn’t know. And then it was gone.

“Crutchie, right?” Spot asked, glancing out a window aloofly. Crutchie nodded. “You’s a good kid. If you ever finds you in some sorta trouble . . . you’s welcome in Brooklyn.”

What?

He understood that they were allies, but allies did not mean that anyone from either turf was allowed to just go wandering over. The only person who had ever been allowed to was Race, who sold in Brooklyn--why, Crutchie didn’t know. Crutchie didn’t think anyone knew. There were plenty of good spots in Manhattan--why did Race trek all the way to a hostile turf just to sell papes? The point was, this wasn’t something that just happened. Ever. Brooklyn and Manhattan had been on bad terms for as long as Crutchie had been a newsie, and before that as far as anyone could remember.

Crutchie didn’t have much more time to think about it, though, as Jack reentered the room, balancing three glasses of water carelessly enough that it made Crutchie tense up, as if ready to catch one when it dropped. One he handed to Spot, one to Crutchie, and the last to Hotshot. Sharpshooter rolled his eyes and swiped it, half-draining the glass before handing it back.

“Crutchie clear anything up?” Jack asked. Spot continued to stare at Crutchie, a slight crease between his brows.

“Yeah, a few things,” Spot answered absently. “A few.”

The discussions continued for another ten minutes or so, Jack eventually convincing Spot that they were not currently trying to lower the price even further (“I’ve already got Bill down ta fifty-two per hundred, why should I stop?”), and got him to agree to work closely with Davey when Jack wasn’t available. That seemed to be all they could resolve for the time being without attacking each other, which was probably the most that had ever been done by a Manhattan newsie and a Brooklyn newsie working together. When Spot went to leave, though, he turned to Crutchie.

“Ol’ Jack ever oversteps, ya know where ta find us,” he said with a firm nod. “Any guy from Brooklyn will bring ya to me, jus’ say the word.” With that, he was gone, Sharpshooter and Hotshot marching after him.

Jack froze, halfway to gathering the two glasses from where they’d been set on the floor, his mouth agape. “Wh--” he tried. Crutchie could have laughed. He didn’t. But he could’ve. “Did Spot Conlon jus’--” he whipped around to stare at Crutchie. “What’d you talk about?” he demanded. “How’d ya get Spot Conlon ta make you an honorary Brooklyn boy?”

Crutchie shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure what had passed between them himself, and he also wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. It wasn’t like he’d done anything. Spot barely knew who he was. The first time they met had been today.

“W-well, if you isn’t gonna eat that, hand it to me.”

The change in subject took Crutchie by surprise, but he passed the partly-eaten bowl of porridge to Jack, who gave him one last suspicious glance before leaving the room.

Crutchie hated being alone these days--the only things worth doing were sleeping and practicing walking. The second one was off the table after yesterday, and he was sick of sleeping, but when there was nobody around there was nothing to do but think. Nothing to do but fall deeper and deeper into a dark chasm that yawned open in his mind. Nothing to do but slowly become more and more paranoid. . . .

He wished he had asked Jack for some more water before he left. Not that Jack wasn’t coming back or anything, it just would’ve been nice to not force him to make another trip.

When Jack returned some ten minutes later, though, he was not alone. Holding his hand was Katherine, laughing at something Jack had said before they entered the room. Crutchie shrunk away. He didn’t want to see Katherine--she would try to pay for a doctor to come see him or insist on checking each of his wounds or something equally mortifying.

“Look who turned up!” Jack said brightly, and Crutchie tried not to frown too obviously.

“Hi, Katherine,” he said politely. “How’re you?”

“Oh, Crutchie, you look so much better!” Katherine exclaimed. Crutchie examined her face carefully. Mostly the truth, but something in her eyes told him that she was still worried about him. “Look at you, sitting up and everything!” a pause. “Have you, um, been eating well?”

There it was. Crutchie hadn’t seen himself in the mirror in a while--every time someone carried him to the washroom, he’d resolutely avoided it. He knew that his face was still multicolored from the various stages of healing his bruises were in, but he hadn’t even thought that he might look malnourished. Elmer’s bracelet was pretty loose on his wrist, now that he was thinking about it. His unwrapped elbow practically jutted out of his skin.

Great. He’d spent a week in the Refuge and had come out looking like the most pitiful creature ever. He was so weak--it had been such a short amount of time! And now he’d been in bed for just as long, when he should’ve been recovered by now!

“Been workin’ on it,” Crutchie managed, trying not to let his thoughts show too obviously. “Hard ta get back up ta where it’s s’posed ta be, y’know?”

“Yeah, he’s been eating less,” Jack added. “It happens, but he’s been tryin’ ta eat most everything I bring him.”

Crutchie resolutely did not blush or look away. There was no reason for Katherine to believe anything to the contrary. Still, she and Jack watched him carefully for a few moments, then exchanged a look. Was he supposed to say something?

“Jack said there was quite the scare last night,” continued Katherine. “Are you feeling okay after your fall?”

Crutchie nodded. He wasn’t lying, actually. He did feel better than he had all week, even if all of his injuries felt raw from falling. Nothing was hazy anymore, nor particularly sharp. It felt almost normal, if the pain could be ignored. He was getting better.

“Why’re you here, Kath?”

Katherine’s smile strained. “Can’t a girl check up on her best friend?”

Crutchie leveled a stare of his own at her. This was the first he’d heard of being best friends. She had to have some sort of ulterior motive--a doctor or a medicine or something stupid like that. He hated to think it, but couldn’t she just leave him alone?

“Okay, I came--of my own volition, by the way--to ask you if you’d be willing to be seen by my family doctor--”

“Nope, thanks,” Crutchie said loudly, glaring hard enough to bore a hole in Katherine’s head. “As you can see, I’s healin’ up just fine.”

“It wouldn’t cost anything, my father--”

“I won’t be botherin’ your father, if it’s all the same ta you,” Crutchie retorted. “Nor no one. I’m gonna be out there sellin’ again soon, an’ if I decides I need a doctor, I’ll save up the cost myself and see ‘im when I feel like it.”

Katherine and Jack exchanged another look, one that told Crutchie they thought he was being stubborn. And so what if he was? Stubbornness had kept him alive countless times. His particular brand of stubborn had been considered both adorable and inspiring in the past. Maybe he was being annoying, but so what? Was it why they wouldn’t listen to him? Did acting annoying really mean he was stripped of his worth to them, his autonomy?

After a long staring contest with Jack, Katherine huffed and rolled her eyes. “Boys,” she muttered, turning away from both of them. Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The lines of Katherine’s shoulders were sharp and tight, radiating tension that was echoed in Jack’s nervous stance.

Crutchie picked at the blanket. Why did every conversation seem to turn into a fight lately? He just wanted people to respect his choices. Heck, maybe he would take Spot up on that offer. It sounded nice to be around people who had no history with him, a fresh slate, a new standard to set. He would get to prove he was strong to them, instead of being cooped up because they were too afraid of how broken he was.

“Well,” Katherine said, straightening her shoulders and facing them again, “take off your shirt, then.”

Crutchie choked. So did Jack. “Uh, what?” Jack sputtered.

“Buy me dinner first,” Crutchie managed.

Katherine rolled her eyes. “You want to be back out there, don’t you?” she asked Crutchie. He nodded, a little scared of where this was going. “I need to make sure you’re healing well enough, if you won’t see a doctor. Then I’ll tell you when you can continue to sell newspapers. And Jack? Get us something to drink.”

[violetwolfraven]

I am laughing because "I didn’t realize I was gay for you until someone else pointed it out and I’m a dumbass but can I be your dumbass?" screams Javid to me xD

It does tho. I haven’t written a ton from Jack’s perspective so I’m gonna write some now. Hope you don’t mind some background ships.

...

Jack didn’t quite know how he’d ended up in this situation.

He’d just been drawing, something he did quite a lot, like normal, and he wasn’t planning on stopping just on account of Crutchie coming up to the Penthouse, but his friend took one look over his shoulder at the drawing and rolled his eyes and said something Jack definitely wasn’t expecting.

“Jack, my friend, my best friend, my brother, are ya ever gonna get your head out of your sketches and into real life so you can ask Davey out?”

Jack almost dropped his pencil off the fire escape.

“...what?”

Crutchie’s sarcastic smirk dropped, “You’re kiddin’ me.”

“I’m kiddin’ you ‘bout what? What the hell, Crutchie?”

“Oh. My. God. You really don’t know.”

“Know what? Davey and I ain’t a thing!”

Crutchie groaned again, “That’s the point! I knew you was oblivious, but I didn’t know you were this... You and Davey ain’t a thing, but you should be!”

“I don’t—“

“Jack. Look at what you was just drawin’.”

Jack looked at his drawing. It was of Davey, a picture he’d been carrying in his head since that afternoon of him laughing at a joke Race told.

“So what?” he asked, “I draw all of our friends!”

Crutchie rolled his eyes, “Yeah, but Davey most of all. Are you just noticin’ now?”

Truth be told, Jack was just noticing now. He just drew whatever he felt like drawing on nights when he wasn’t too tired.

Sometimes that was Buttons dancing with a broom in Jacobi’s and the look on Elmer’s face as he watched. Sometimes it was Katherine and Sarah standing together, smiles soft in a way reserved only for each other. Sometimes Jojo and Mike letting go of the fear someone would notice long enough to let themselves stand together in the line for papes. Sometimes Albert and Smalls smirking as they talked and watched Finch and Sniper having a slingshot contest.

Jack liked drawing his friends at their happiest. He liked immortalizing these little moments of light in a world where they seemed far and few between, compared to the darkness.

And if he happened to draw Davey a lot, that was because Davey’s smile was like light itself, and he wanted to remember that things like that could exist.

“So what?” he asked, “That don’t mean we should be a thing.”

“Are you forgetting how yesterday you spent half an hour ramblin’ to me ‘bout how he helped ya put the littles to bed?”

“Well, nobody else helps me in this damn house.”

“Yes, they do. Or, they would, if you’d let ‘em. Buttons, Race, and me have all volunteered to take shifts watchin’ the younger ones. Ya always say no. You’s been takin’ care of everyone for years and it’s tricked ya into thinkin’ ya can’t accept help. But you said yes to Davey just for a bit longer hangin’ out with him.”

Jack really wished he could deny that.

“Hell, even if ya didn’t say yes, he’d make you let him help, anyway. Davey don’t take your shit. That’s just a fact.”

“Ain’t relationships supposed to be ‘bout... I dunno, not fightin’?”

Crutchie shrugged, “You’s got plenty of people who don’t fight ya, Jack, and you never take a break when we ask nicely. If fightin’s what it takes to make you relax a little, Davey’s exactly what you need.”

Jack shook his head, “What do you know, Crutchie? You’s never been in love.”

“True, but I’s seen enough of our friends fall into it to know what it looks like. Hell, for some reason, a fair amount of ‘em seem to think it’s a good idea to ask me for romantic advice, so I probably know more than you.”

“I was with Kath and you ain’t ever had a girl or a fella!”

“How’d that work out again?”

“She’s queer, Crutch! That wasn’t my fault!”

Crutchie gave him a pointed ask, “If it ain’t love between you and Davey, what is it?”

Jack tried to come up with a word for it. What was between him and Davey was different than his other friendships—he knew that—but that didn’t make it love.

Davey pacified the always-raging instinct Jack had to keep his friends close, to keep them safe and happy, to keep away anything that could possibly threaten them. He quieted the fear that Jack wouldn’t be able to protect them. In fact, Jack trusted him to help protect them.

Davey was so smart he could weaponize it and as stubborn as Jack himself. He refused to let Jack manipulate him to stand behind him, always standing with him, in front of everyone else Jack was protecting.

And yes, Davey needed to lean on him some days, but Jack had found himself leaning on Davey some days, too. He had never let himself do that with anyone before.

This was trust. It was a fight they somehow both always won. It was...

“Holy shit, I’m completely in love with him.”

Crutchie laughed, “I know. I saw how whipped ya were from day one.”

“And ya didn’t tell me?”

“I thought you knew.”

Jack usually prided himself on being able to read his friends accurately. To see relationships coming before they happened, to see who was soft with a crush, who had awkwardness left over from misread signals, even who was hurting over someone and who they were hurting over.

Apparently, his romance radar did not extend to himself.

God, he hadn’t even thought about how he’d never been able to even remotely see Davey with anyone.

“It’s kinda late tonight,” Crutchie reasoned, “But tomorrow, you two should talk. Definitely.”

...

Davey looked kind of confused when Jack asked to talk alone, but they hung back in an alley after grabbing their papes instead of immediately going to their normal selling spot.

“What’s this about, Jackie? What’s up?”

Jack took a deep breath. Now or never.

“Do you have a thing for me, Davey?”

Davey froze, “What?”

“A thing,” Jack said, “Like, you wanna court. That kind of thing.”

Davey’s confused expression vanished into calm. He took a deep breath before he nodded.

“Holy shit,” Jack whispered.

In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the right response.

“Look, I get that this is... complicated. If you want another selling partner, I bet I can get Crutchie to let me—“

“No,” Jack said quickly, “No, I... I like you, too, Davey. I like ya so much. I didn’t realize until Crutchie pointed it out to me last night, but... God, Davey, even if I didn’t see it, there ain’t been a day since we met that I ain’t been chasin’ you.”

“Even when you were with Katherine?” Davey asked incredulously.

“Um... maybe?”

“That ain’t very fair to her.”

“I guess that’s another reason why it’s a good thing we broke up, then.”

Davey laughed, looking at the little bit of sky above the alleyway, “So... what?”

“What?” Jack asked quizzically.

“What are we now? What am I to you?”

“How about... my best guy?”

“Jack.”

“Would you prefer lover? Special person? Significant other?”

“Significant annoyance, maybe,” Davey teased, kissing him on the cheek before picking his papes back up, “Now come on. We need to go sell.”

Jack didn’t know where this was going to go, but it was definitely nice to know where Davey stood.

...

Bonus:

“Crutchie I thought Jack and I were already together and apparently we weren’t but we are now so it’s okay???”

“Congratulations. Good luck with your dumbass. Be good to him or else.”

[multifandomrandomgirl]

Ise Prefer You As a Boy - Newsies PT3

The second we get inside the Manhattan lodging house, a massive group of boys come bounding over. "Thank God you're back." Davey hugs me first, Les clinging onto my legs. Crutchie hobbles over next and hugs me. "I missed you so much." He whispers. "I missed you too Crutch."

The last to come over was Buttons. "I'm glad you're back Freckles, I missed you a lot and honestly don't know what Ise would do if youse weren't here." I hug him tightly. "Can I sit on your bed with you?" Buttons asks. "Of course you can." I say. We both go and sit down on it.

I pull my hair out of the ponytail it was hiding in underneath my cap and Buttons takes a piece of it and fiddles with it.

---------------

"Aw, cute." I wake up in the middle of the night to see Race and Albert stood over me. "What are you two 'awing' over?" I glare at them. "You and Buttons are cute." Albert smirks, I look down and realise that I had fallen alseep cuddled with the boy.

"No. Albert, we are not cute." I sigh. "True, you are, Buttons isn't." Abert winks at me. I roll my eyes at him, lie back down and close my eyes again. I feel a hand in my hair, my eyes shot open. "Sorry." Albert mouths to me before backing away to his own bed.

What was up with him? I shrug it off and go back to sleep.

"Albert." I screech the moment I woke up. "Yes dear?" He walks over with a cocky look on his face. "Why were you stroking my hair last night?" Albert's cocky look drops and his face turns bright red to match his hair.

"Uh, Ise uh, sorry?" He stutters. "No, it's fine. I don't mind. I was just wondering why youse did it." I put my hand on his arm. "It doesn't matter." He says, walking off.

"Freckles! D'ya wanna sell with me today?" Buttons comes bounding over excitedly. "Of course she will." Albert says, rolling his eyes from another corner. I glance at Albert before leaving to buy papes with Buttons.

"Paper! Paper!" I yell out to the busy streets of Manhattan. A large crowd of people flock around me and hand me over money in return for a paper. "Thank you, Sir, thank you." I thank people as they leave.

"Good going." Buttons says from behind me. I smile and sell another paper. "How many have you sold?" He asks, I count my remaining papes. "I've sold twenty of my forty." I say. "Already? Wow."

-------

"You know, Ise still prefer you as a boy." Buttons sits down on the pavement next to me giggling. "Nice to know." I laugh. "I mean, youse a pretty goil but also, youse a pretty boy." He nudges me jokingly.

"Aw, thanks." I grin at Buttons, giggling slightly. "I also think someone has a crush on you." He stares down at the floor. "You've already told me this."

"No Freckles, one of the boys likes you as a girl." Buttons looks up to me. "W-who?" I ask, getting more interested. "Albert." I gape at Buttons.

"No. No. How could he like me? You're lying." I say hurriedly. "You really think I'm lying? Did he not stroke you hair? Or call you cute? Or seemed jealous when I asked if youse would want to sell with me today?" Buttons sighs, shaking his head at me.

"He's joking, obviously." I shut down the theory of Albert having a crush on me. "You're so oblivious." He mutters. "I am not! Why ever would Albert like me?" I ask. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" Buttons rolls his eyes at me before going to sell more papers.

"Fine. I will do." I glare at Buttons before shouting out the headline once again.

-----

At the end selling day, Buttons and I make our way over to Jacobi's Deli to meet the rest of the boys. When we arrive, I go and sit on one of the empty tables in the corner, away from the boys.

"Are you okay? You normally sit with the boys." Jacobi sits opposite me, he'd known my secret for longer than the boys as I'd come in one afternoon by myself with my hair down.

"Yeah, just not really feeling up to hanging with them today." I sigh, feeling a pain just below my stomach. "Do you want me to sneak you out so you can go back to the Lodging House?" Jacobi asks. "Please."

We both stand up and he shuffles me towards the kitchens. "Take this and go out that door there." He hands me half a loaf of bread. "Thank you Sir." I smile and he ushers me out of the door. "No problem, see you soon."

I take off quickly, running as fast as I can toward the Lodging House. Once I reach it, I pay lodging fee and then go to my bed, change and hide under my thin blanket and try to fall asleep. I wake up a few hours later with all of the boys stood over my bed, a few sat on the edge of it.

"Freckles! You're okay!" Jojo is the first to notice that I'm awake. "Yeah." I mutter. Davey immediately puts his hand to my head. "You haven't got a temperature Freckles."

"Figured that one out." I mumble. "What's up with her?" Albert says, eyes filled with worry. "Let me talk to her alone for a moment." Davey clears all  the boys away from the bed except from Jack.

"How do you know that something is wrong with me and that I wasn't actually just tired." I glance up at Davey. "Freckles, you never go to sleep this early." Jack puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Okay, fine you got me. I'm just having a minor problem right now, but I'm fine." I roll my eyes at the two boys, who might as well be my parents. "Ohh, it's that, right?" Davey's eyes widen. I nod ever so slightly.

"I see. Do you think you can still sell?" Jack asks. "Dude, it's not going to kill me to sell, so yes, I can still sell." I say. "Okay, but we're going to keep an extra eye on you this week." Davey says. "Okay Mum." I sigh.

"What?" Jack sniggers. "You two literally act like you're our parents, I'm not even kidding." I explain. "We do?" Davey asks. "Yep! But that's okay, I appreciate actually having parents now." I smile and hug him. "Get some more sleep." Jack says. "But I've just slept for like two hours." I complain.

"Sleep, or I'll ground you." Jack threatens me "Fine, night Mum, night Dad." I say under my breath. "Night Freckles." Jack kisses my forehead. They both leave the side of my bed and Davey leaves the lodging house altogether with Les in tow.

Albert comes and sits on the side of my bed and strokes my forehead. "You okay Freckles?" He asks. "Yeah, I'm all good." I smile at him. "Okie! I was worried." Albert blushes.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, Albert running his fingers through my hair. Buttons comes running over and sits with us too.

I wake up in the morning to find Buttons and Albert both curled up either side of me on my bed. I smile at the two boys and try to sit up without waking either of them up. "Morning." Albert whispers. "Did I wake you? I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Would you like to sell with me today for a change?" Albert asks hesitantly. "Of course I will!" I grin. "Yay! Let's go and get ready." Albert jumps up and pulls me up too.

Once we got ready and got our papes we hit the street immediately.

"Freckles, can I uh, tell youse something?" Albert says after a while of selling papes.

"Of course." I sit down on the pavement next to him. "Okay, so uh, Ise kinda likes you, like likes you." He flushes a bright red, almost matching his hair.

I feel my face heat up as well. "Forgets it, shouldn'ta said nothing." Albert stands up and begins to walk away.

"Albert." I jump up after him.

"What?" Albert snaps.

[livesincerely]

I’m very sorry for all of the asks Madam Sincerely, but I’ve just recently gone on a binge of all of your fics, and I don’t think there’s any more questions on the ask game, so can I ask here: Do you have any ideas on future works that you haven’t started writing yet? If so, can we hear some? I was scrolling back through your tumblr to cheer myself up yesterday (my country’s gone back into lockdown) and saw you mentioned a few ideas, like the one in the SubDavey ask? Sorry, just curious <3

No need to be sorry, the asks are lovely! I’m sorry to hear that things have shut down where you are, I’m sure that’s incredibly difficult. Sending all the positivity your way 💕💜✨⭐️💕💜

The Domestic au is the QUEEN of inspiring random story ideas and dangling plot threads. There’s several floating around in the domestic au/ideas for later tags but if I was going to narrow it down to a handful of ideas that have a good chance of existing in the near-ish future, then I’d say 1) the Jack and Davey preparing for college fic 2) the Davey picking Race & Charlie up from the elementary school because Jack’s sick fic 3) the Race and Charlie needing a cuddle pile fic and 4) the bedsharing fic where Jack is struggling under the pressure of fighting for custody and needs some comfort.

I’m just in the mood for some stuff set in the high school/college era of that au, probably because ‘it’s beginning to look a lot like...’ has got me in the mindset. All of these would be one shots, just showing more landmarks in the boys’ history since ‘it’s so easy (too easy) to love you’ sort of just drops you right into the ocean as far as circumstances lol. And also, there’s a lot of family building that goes on before Jack and Davey get together that I’m very interested in exploring! I think Race describes it as ‘eight years of waiting for Jack and Davey to get their shit together?’ Yeah. So definitely lots of domestic au in the upcoming year.

I’ve talked the tiniest bit about ‘there’s you and me (and everyone else)’ and ‘a few letters off’ but after doing the first bits & bobs for each of them, I got distracted by other projects as I so often do, 😅 so I’ll talk about them here. Actually, I’m not even sure if these had working title ideas last time I mentioned them here, it’s been that long lol.

Anyway, these two fics are very similar, but just different enough to need separate fics. The first is a modern, high school au that features different examples of Jack and Davey being the accidental co-parents of their friend group while obliviously pining for each other. I’m thinking it will be individual scenes tied together by the theme; I’ll put the original idea post here and the bits & bobs here. Besides what I already talked about, I also think I want to include a scene where Albert and Crutchie are going on a first date (a pairing that is absolutely inspired by @agentsnickers, you’ve converted me) and they both separately approach Jack and Davey for advice on what to do/wear/etc. Like, a total ‘our-kids-on-their-first-date-get-the-camera’ type thing, plus Jack being an overprotective older brother and giving Charlie a curfew because he’s ridiculous.

“Be home by nine,” Jack says, a little surly. “Nine?” Davey asks, incredulous “They’re seventeen not seven. Eleven o’clock.” “I’m supposed to trust Albert with my baby brother at eleven o’clock?” Jack asks, scowling. “That’s just asking for trouble.” He says trouble in the sort of ominous tone other people reserve for imminent nuclear meltdown or battlefield heart surgery. “What do you think Albert’s gonna do, stick his hand down Crutchie’s pants the moment they walk out the door?” Davey says with a scoff. “It’s Albert.” “Ten-thirty,” Jack eventually offers. Davey nods, then looks back at Albert and Crutchie, who have been following this exchange like a tennis match and are both now a little pink in the face, and shrugs, trying to convey something like ‘pick your battles’. “Great!” Crutchie squeaks out, sounding absolutely mortified. “Great, ten-thirty it is, oh my god, Albert let’s go before theykeeptalking—“

Oh! And I want Davey to full name someone in the ultimate you-fucked-up-and-mom-is-pissed move. I even went and made full names for everyone just to be prepared 😊

Then, ‘a few letters off’ is the Jack-and-Davey’s-friends’-perspectives-on-the-nonsense-that-is-Javid fic. I’ve basically finished the Buttons scene, but I’m also hoping to include one each from the povs of Katherine, Crutchie, Racetrack, Spot, and Albert at minimum.

I’m thinking:

Katherine - catching Jack painting/drawing Davey while Jack tries to cover and deny

Spot - The aftermath of him and Jack getting into a fight with the DeLancey’s and him watching Davey fluttered worriedly around Jack, scolding him for being a reckless but still dabbing carefully at his injuries.

Racetrack - comes home to find Jack and Davey watching a movie, except that Jack’s fallen asleep halfway through, head in Davey’s lap, and Davey is adamant that Race doesn’t wake him.

Crutchie - watching Javid eating lunch together and noting how totally domestic it is: stealing food from each other’s plates, Jack gives Davey his extra fruit cup then swipes his milk carton and Davey doesn’t even say anything because it’s so routine, and how they’re able to move in and around each other effortlessly while eating and holding two separate conversations.

Albert - watching Jack and Davey flirt/bicker from the backseat on the drive to school.

And then some sort of culminating/getting together scene at the end.

There’s the infamous quarantine fic, which I waxed poetically about for all of two seconds and then never expanded on. (Here and here) The reason I haven’t done anything with it yet is because it will be a multi-chapter and between tie fic, take a shot fic, and now the domestic au holiday fic, I’m really at my limit for multi chapters at the mo’. But I do still want to do something with this once I finish tie fic and DAUHF, as take a shot knows no bounds and cannot be quantified by earthly means.

Then, as for the idea I mentioned in the sub!Davey post.... I think I’m going to be able to repurpose the general scenario/concept I was imagining for the final, E rated chapter of Tie Fic, so I don’t think the original idea will ever make it to a final cut. (I won’t say never because anything’s possible lol) But, I’m happy to put the bit I have here! Things don’t quite get E rated in this excerpt, but they’re definitely a solid M. This would’ve been an addition to the Tease series and I think this has been sitting in my drafts for almost as long as the letterman fic, and it hasn’t been edited in at least two years, so yeah 😅

00000

“I really wanted to work on my thesis proposal, that’s why I was in the library most of the day,” Davey says suddenly, pushing Jack down against the couch and straddling him, his voice light and conversational. “It was nice of you to check on me so often, though I’m sorry I wasn’t very good company. I was trying to stay focused, you know how it is.”

Davey looks at Jack expectantly, making it clear that he’s waiting for a response. Jack stares up at him, his expression equal parts confused, transfixed, and aroused. He swallows heavily, then nods.

“But I did warn you, didn’t I?” Davey continues, bracing himself with a hand on each of Jack’s shoulders, rolling their hips together as he presses closer. “That I had a lot of work to do? That this paper is really important to me and that I wanted to get a head start? That I really needed to focus and didn’t want to be distracted? I distinctly remember warning you about all of that.”

He nuzzles down the curve of Jack’s jaw, then nips at his neck. “But you didn’t listen,” he says against Jack’s pulse point. Davey smooths his hands down Jack’s chest, then back up to his throat, tugging at his collar. He unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt.

“In fact, one could argue that you did the exact opposite of what I asked you to do,” Davey says, working his way slowly through the buttons on Jack’s shirt. “Trailing your fingers across my arm, rubbing a thumb across the nape of my neck, sneaking a hand up my shirt… I would call all of that distracting, wouldn’t you?” He finishes unbuttoning Jack’s shirt and pushes it off his shoulders, admiring his muscular chest.

Davey glances up sharply. “Answer me, Jack.”

Jack blinks himself out of his daze. “I-uh, what did you ask me?”

Davey leans forward. They’re so close that he can feel the warmth of Jack’s breath against his face. “I asked you,” he starts, wrapping his arms loosely around Jack’s neck, “whether you thought constantly caressing someone while they were trying to work would distract them.”

It takes Jack a long moment to respond. “Yeah.”

One of Davey’s hands trails up the back of Jack’s neck. “You agree that doing something like that would be impossibly flustering?” Davey asks in that same, unaffected voice—as if clarifying a statement for a news article—threading his fingers through Jack’s hair. “That it would thoroughly divert that person’s focus? That it would leave them feeling unbalanced, frustrated, and downright agitated?

He leans impossibly closer, so close that the barest tilt of his head would press their lips together. “That it would drive them so crazy that all they could think about was how desperately they needed to be fucked,” Davey growls out, and his voice low and rough.

“Christ, Davey,” Jack groans, his pupils blown wide. He leans up to kiss him, but Davey anticipates this and tugs sharply on his hair, holding him in place. “So, we’re in agreement?” Davey continues in his casual voice, letting go of the dark strands and pulling away slightly, ignoring Jack’s groan of disappointment, “that all of those actions would, in fact, be extremely distracting.”

He trails his hands lovingly across Jack’s shoulders and down his chest, his movements unhurried. He licks a hot stripe up Jack’s neck, then sucks hard at a spot just under his jaw.

“Considering both of these facts, I can only conclude that you were distracting me on purpose.” Davey presses a line of kisses along Jack’s collar bone, delighting in the moan that tears its way out of Jack’s throat. He scratches lightly at the tanned skin of Jack’s chest, then sucks a bruise just above his collarbone.

“Were you doing it on purpose, Jack?” he asks, then before Jack can answer, rolls his hips hard and slow against Jack’s, grinding their erections together. Jack’s hands spasm, then tighten, clenching hard against Davey’s sides. Davey continues his ministrations, circling his hips against Jack’s, teasing him with the friction. Then, just as Jack seems to catch on to Davey’s rhythm and starts to move with him, Davey stills. “Were you teasing me on purpose?”

Jack’s mouth opens and closes, his throat working furiously. “I-yeah.”

David hums in acknowledgment, then continues his slow perusal of his boyfriend’s chest. He nibbles lightly across his sternum, then draws the flat of his tongue across one of one Jack’s nipples. Jack arches into him but Davey pushes him back, using his leverage to hold Jack down against the couch cushions. He sits up, admiring the mess he’s made of Jack’s neck and torso.

Jack stares up at him, chest heaving, waiting for Davey’s next move.

....

Davey runs his hands down Jack’s stomach and between his hips, fingers brushing gently against the front of Jack’s jeans.

Jack lets out a guttural noise. “God, Davey, let me—“ he starts, one hand slipping back to kneed at Davey’s ass, the other inching towards Davey’s fly.

“No,” Davey says firmly, moving Jack’s hands back to his waist. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

00000

That’s all that comes to mind at the moment! Oh, and the Brooklyn Davey AU idea, but I got a different ask about that, so I’ll just link it. (Here)

@saysflora

[racebox-of-higgars]

Take Me Captive, Set Me Free - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 of my sprace pirate AU fic is now out. TW for violence and misgendering in this one. Updates will be moved to Wednesdays and Saturdays now! Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30592184/chapters/77412707

@angelslibrary 

When Race woke up, his whole body ached. Specifically his head, that was the worst part, but his arms and legs burned too. Memories of the night before were hazy, something about winning a competition, and the stable boy? Something to do with Spot? He remembered talking to him, though the details of the conversation were slightly foggy. God, how drunk had he been? Vaguely, he recognised that he wasn’t in his room, but instead was in Spot’s. How had he ended up in Spot’s bed? He flopped back against the pillows, arm covering his eyes. His head was pounding, and he just wanted to go back to sleep, but he figured that wasn’t an option.

Not long later, Spot poked his head around the door. 

“You awake?” He asked quietly. Race groaned. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Spot came in fully and Race pushed himself up on his elbows. 

“Why am I in your bed?” 

“I figured you’d probably have a killer headache and it would be quieter in here than your room.” He handed Race a glass of water. “Drink this, it’ll help.” Race took it gratefully. “Where did you sleep then?” 

“I took your bed.” 

“You didn’t have to do that.” Race slowly downed the water. 

“I know, but it’s okay. You probably needed the extra sleep.” He sat down beside Race. “How much of last night do you remember?” 

“Not much, just winning some competition, and us talking, but I don’t remember much of what we said.” Spot looked relieved and Race wondered for a moment why.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t miss much.” Race nodded, and immediately regretted it when pain shot through his head. “You should get up soon. Crutchie saved you some breakfast, but it’s gonna get cold if you leave it much longer.” 

“Alright, thank you.” Spot nodded and left.

“You like him, don’t you?” Jack said, materialising out of nowhere beside Spot. 

“Piss off.” 

“You do!” He insisted.

“What makes you think that?” 

“First of all, you let him stay here. If it was anyone else, you would’ve sold them on, but you didn’t. Secondly, Morris.” Spot opened his mouth to speak, but Jack cut him off. “And last night. You were looking at him like he hung the stars and moon in the sky. You don’t look at anyone else the way you look at him, you don’t smile at anyone else in that way. You like him.” Spot was quiet for a moment. Fuck.

“It doesn’t matter.” He mumbled. “Why not?” 

“Cus he won’t ever want me in that way, and even then, I don’t know if I can do the whole relationship thing.” 

“Judging from last night, I highly doubt that first part,” Jack pointed out. 

“Just drop it, Jack. Nothing’s gonna happen.” Jack’s face fell. 

“Alright.” He left Spot alone.

Truth was, Spot did like Race. A lot. However, relationships weren’t something Spot did. He had given his whole heart to his ship, and he couldn’t help but worry that if he allowed room for someone else, his crew would slowly slip away. After all, his crew always came first to him, they were more important to him than anything else. There was nothing else that could replace his crew, and nothing else would replace his crew. These people were his family, and he wasn’t going to risk putting them at jeopardy. He would hide his own feelings for Race, no matter what. He couldn’t risk losing the one thing that mattered the most to him.

Race left Spot’s room shortly after Spot, met by wolf whistles from Albert. His brow furrowed in confusion, but he shook his head. It probably had something to do with whatever he had won last night. He made his way to the galley, smiling at Crutchie. 

“Morning, Race!” Crutchie said cheerfully, handing him two buttered rolls and a glass of water. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’ve been trampled by a horse.” Crutchie laughed. 

“It’ll get easier each time.” 

“Oh, God no. I’m never drinking again.” 

“That’s what they all say. Just you wait, tonight you’ll be drinking again.” Race’s stomach turned at the thought of alcohol. 

“No thanks. Definitely not tonight, anyway.” Crutchie nodded slowly, almost as if he didn’t quite believe Race.

“You should consider yourself lucky, Spot doesn’t normally let people sleep in when they’re hungover.” Race frowned. 

“It’s probably because it’s my first time.” 

“I’m not so sure.” What was that supposed to mean?

Spot gave Race less chores than normal that day, which Race was more than grateful for. He still helped when turning the ship, but Finch took his place setting the sails and someone had done his chores for him. His bed was neatly made, his change of clothes neatly folded at the foot. When he noticed, he couldn’t help his smile. 

“Hey, Racer!” Buttons ran up to him. 

“Yeah?” 

“I made a load of clothes out of your old wedding dress, so you won’t have to keep borrowing Albert’s.” Race grinned. 

“Really? You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I kinda did, it is my job after all.” They laughed. “C’mon, we can make sure it fits right.” 

It fit him perfectly, no parts of it too loose, none too tight. It was warm too, but not bulky. Buttons was a wizard with a sewing needle. 

“How is it?” He asked, studying the fit. 

“It’s perfect, thank you.” 

“Thank you for letting me use the dress. I got enough material out of it to make new clothes for everyone.” Race smiled. 

“I just wanted to get rid of it to be honest. I’m glad it helped.” 

The crew lazed on the deck, taking in the sun while they could. Race stretched out, taking off his scabbard and setting it next to him. The ocean was still, and there was hardly any wind, just enough to keep them in motion. Race was grateful for the breeze, it was just enough to keep the heat from becoming unbearable. There was nowhere for them to be, so they allowed themselves to bask in the sun, letting the wind carry them wherever. 

“We got a problem!” Finch yelled from the crows nest. Spot, Jack and Al shot to their feet, running to the side of the ship. 

“Fuck, it’s the royals!” Al called. Panic shot through Race. They were looking for him, there was no doubt about it. If he was caught, he would have to go back to the castle, possibly have to go through the wedding. He would lose his family.

“Do you think they’ve seen us?” Elmer asked, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

“There isn’t a chance they haven’t, they’re heading right for us.” Jack ran a hand through his hair as he spoke, a nervous habit. 

“Is there any way we could escape?” Race asked. 

“No, they’re bigger and faster than us. This is going to end in a fight, and it ain’t gonna be pretty.” Spot said, face solemn. “We haven’t got long to prepare, come on.” Everyone ran into their dorm rooms, presumably to get weaponry for the oncoming fight. Race simply stood in the middle of the deck, completely lost. 

“Race!” Spot yelled. “What are you just standing there for?” 

“I don’t have a weapon! What am I meant to do?” 

“Fuck,” Spot muttered under his breath. “I have a spare cutlass in my office, take that one.” Race nodded, sprinting into Spot’s office. The cutlass from his very first day still hung on the wall. He didn’t take a moment to admire it this time though, instead pulling it off of its hook and sliding it into his scabbard. It was heavier than he expected and he briefly wondered how Spot expected him to hold his own in a fight against trained soldiers when he had never even held a sword before, but he pushed the thought from his mind. He would burn that bridge when he got to it. 

He made his way back onto the deck where everyone else had congregated. All of them were pale with panic, but their faces were hard with determination. Spot shouted orders from the front.

“Sniper, Albert, get downstairs and prepare the cannons. If we can attack first, that’ll give us a slight advantage.” The two nodded, disappearing down below deck. 

“Jack, Finch, Blink, Eclipse, you four are our best close range fighters, you’ll be our first line of defence.” The four of them nodded, one hand on their swords, ready to draw them and fight at a moment's notice. “Smalls, Crutchie, you two are our long-range fighters. Attack them from high up.” They both nodded, climbing the rigging. Smalls helped Crutchie up and both of them sat on the platform, slingshots ready. “JoJo, Buttons, Specs, you three will be our second line of defence. Race, Elmer, Romeo, Mush, you’ll be our third line. EVeryone got that.” Everyone nodded, faces stony. “They may have more manpower, and better training, but we have heart, okay? We have to win this fight, okay? Look out for one another.” 

One thing Race certainly did not anticipate was the way the entire ship shook as the cannons fired. He stumbled, almost losing his footing as Albert and Sniper set them off. Holes appeared on the side of the enemy ship, but not nearly enough to do damage. The crew watched in silence as more cannons were fired, this time falling short. The enemy ship drew closer with each passing second. 

Race drew his cutlass, hands shaking in fear. 

Men swung onto the ship, swords drawn. Immediately, Crutchie and Smalls rained down projectiles on them. The men looked up for a moment to see where they were coming from, and in the moment of distraction, Jack, Eclipse, Finch, Blink, and Spot launched themselves at the soldiers, swords drawn. There were shouts of pain and anger from both sides and Race watched, rooted to the spot as Eclipse sliced across a guard’s thigh. The man cried out, legs buckling and Eclipse kicked him, sending him falling off the ship. 

More guards took his place. Soon, each person aboard Brooklyn was fighting at least one guard, with some taking on two or even three. A small boy ran through a guard’s legs, laughing and shouting. 

“Why the fuck is there a kid here?” Race yelled over the noise of the battle, struggling against the guard he fought. 

“Hey!” The kid shouted. “I’m ten! ...almost.” 

“That’s Les, he likes to see how long he can pretend he doesn’t exist when we get a new crew member!” Spot explained, blocking an attack with his cutlass and kicking another guard in the chest. The guard fell back against Jack, who slit his throat. Race’s eyes widened as he recognised the guard, but he couldn’t focus on that. 

He made eye contact with his opponent, blocking each of his attacks. He was clumsy in his movements, but as long as he wasn’t getting stabbed, he was happy. The guard looked at him, eyes suddenly widening. 

“I found her!” Race froze. He tried to back away, but crashed into another guard. They surrounded him, grinning. Panic shot through him and his stomach turned. He couldn’t go back, he couldn’t. 

“Spot!” He screamed. “Jack, Albert, help!” Suddenly there were hands pinning his arms behind his back. “Spot!” 

A blow to the back of the head cut him off, and everything went dark.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

nobody likes a claggy bit of cheese

this idea came to me in mid november while i was watching an episode of the great british bakeoff and crocheting a scarf for my sister while eating a very very healthy college lunch of apple sauce and caramel corn. someone (maybe it was paul) said the word “claggy” and i was like Wow That’s British. and then someone else (probably paul again) said “stodgy” and i was like WoW ThAts BriTisH. and then i was like you know who would appreciate these Very British Words?? my dumb friend who likes to pretend he's british. and thEn i was like Oh Shit what if he hosted great british bakeoff that would be energy oh my god. and i was About to text him that when i was like No Wait! instead of a baking competition it would be a Mac And Cheese competition because that's like,,,his wholes pride and joy. and then i was about to text him that but then i was like wAIT! this has fic written all over it oh my god i can see it now. and now here we are.

also mikey in case you didn't realize, you are my dumb fake british friend and this is your present but i mean its more of your persona slapped on race and i called it a day. its not a mothman shirt but it'll have to do eye guess

anywaymst 

enjoy this trash pile 

_________

ship: eye guess its platonic ralbert

genre: pure ass crack

warnings: uhmmm, race is an idiot, poorly written british accents, paul hollywood stare, uhhh, albert is Annoyed, jack is an idiot who makes bad mac, spot get Angryyy, idk im writing there before the fic is finished, katherine definitely knows the mafia

editing: lol that's funny

words: enough to fill a few pages but not enough to bore you to death like the metamorphosis

_________

“CHEESE!”

Blankets tornadoed around the room as Race jumped off the bed in a half awake sleepy haze, barely landing on his feet in a fight stance, wielding his phone like a weapon in front of him. He glared into the dark corners (not that he could even tell where the corners were considering that it was pitch dark) of the room before stumbling out into the hallway, muttering madly about cheese.

“Cheese...blue cheese…..string cheese…...mozzarella cheese….” Race barely heard his own half-mad whispers as he opened all the cabinets, rummaging around in the same matter a hurricane floods a basement, in a mad search for pasta. When he came up empty handed he scowled, sat himself up on the counter and yelled for the next best thing:

“ALLLLLLLBBEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRT!”

CRASH! That would be Albert falling out of bed. Race kicked his feet against the cabinet impatiently.

WHOOSH! SLAM! And there was Albert’s door opening and closing at an alarming speed.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! The pictures in the living room began to shake, announcing his arrival.

“Race?! What’s going on? Are you okay??” And there was Albert, sliding into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of socks and boxers (despite the fact that it was probably 3 degrees out), weilding a single black converse high top. Race wasn’t quite sure how the shoe was supposed to help him, but he decided to ignore it. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by Albert’s weird antics when there was a legitimate crisis at hand.

“Race…?” Albert asked again, slowly lowering his shoe. “Is everything-” “We’re out of pasta.”

“We’re- what?” The shoe Albert had been holding banged to the floor. “You’re telling me that you woke me up at” he peered at the oven clock over Race’s shoulder, “three fifteen am  to tell me that we’re out of pasta?”

“It’s horrible isn’t it?” Race slammed his head into the cabinet behind him. “Now I can’t make mac and cheese!” “W h y do you want to make mac and fucking cheese at three fifteen in the goddamn morning?!”

“BECAUSE ALBERT-” Race jumped down off the counter, “-I had a dream. A dream where I was competing on The Great British Bakeoff and I made my Famous mac and cheese. And Paul Hollywood, the man, the legend h i m s e l f, tasted my humble mac and said ‘Race. That is amazing.’ And gave me a handshake! And I was so honored that I awoke hungry for the wonderful, delicious, creamy taste of mac and cheese. So I wander into the kitchen and what do I find? A fridge full of cheese, but no pasta to be found!” He stepped closer to Albert, planting his hand firmly on his shoulder. “This is an emergency!”

Albert swatted away Race’s hand and rubbed his eyes, already turning back toward his room. “If Paul Hollywood deemed your mac and cheese so amazing then just hold a competition of your own and make other people make mac and cheese for you. That way I don’t have to go to Walgreens at three thirty.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I’m going back to bed. Don’t make us lose our security deposit.”

Race stood in stunned silence as Albert disappeared down the hall and his door closed.

“That sleep deprived idiot might actually be onto something,” he muttered, launching himself onto one of the bar stools and opening his laptop. He had work to do.

•••

“You know, when I told you to host your own mac and cheese competition I thought I dreamt that entire encounter, and, now that I realize that I definitely didn’t, I especially didn't expect you to make me host it, and I certainly didn’t expect you to make me wear this dumb costume.” He tugged uncomfortably at the dark blazer and black wig.

“Oi mate, if you’re gonna be Sue yew gotta start actin like ‘er!” Race glared.

“But Race-”

“Thas Paul Hollywood to you. I don want none uh this ‘Race’ business,” he crossed his arms and gave Al his best Steely Eyed, Paul Hollywood Glare.

Albert just rolled his eyes and stomped off.

Race sighed happily as he turned to survey the tent in front of him. He had called Katherine last night after his missing pasta crisis and asked if he could use her Dad’s Hampton’s estate to host a mock version of the Great British Bakeoff but for mac and cheese. Katherine, like any good rebellious daughter, had loved the idea and called several of her “contacts” that apparently “owed her favors.” (Race didn’t understand the life of rich people, it seemed very extravagant and two-faced) And that was how Race had come to be standing in a tent with what could very well be the set up of the Great British Bakeoff laid out in front of him with he himself dressed in his very best blue button down and jeans, a spitting image of Paul Hollywood. Well, maybe Paul Hollywood 30 years ago.

His friends that he had invited on to be the contestants of the show were setting up at their stations. There was Jack, Davey, Romeo, Mush, Blink, Finch, Buttons, Specs, JoJo, Spot, Crutchie, and Smalls. Katherine had opted not to participate and instead film everyone to make it seem more like the actual show.

Someone (probably Katherine) had forced Albert to stand next to him to announce the signature challenge that they had prepared.

“Alright bakers-”

Race shot him a side glance.

“-er, mac and cheese cookers?” he tried to amend. “Today Ra-uh, Paul would like you to make a nice, hefty batch of mac and cheese. You may use whatever ingredients you would like, but he would like it to be cheesy, delicious, and contain pasta. You have 45 minutes.” Race could practically hear the sigh in his voice. “On your marks, get set, ba-cOOK!”

Finally, Race thought as his friends scrambled around their respective stations, I’m going to get some good mac.

•••

It was becoming very clear very quickly that Race may not actually be getting any good mac.

He wandered from station to station, Albert following begrudgingly behind him, progressively becoming more and more disappointed in each and every one of his friends. Didn’t any of them know how to cook?

“Roight Jack.” He leaned on the one empty scrap of counter in front of him. “What are yew makin?”

“It’s a surprise.” Jack - well he assumed it was Jack, he couldn’t really be sure with all the flour flying everywhere - ran around his workspace, which was crowded with every ingredient imaginable, from shredded cheese to, was that maple syrup?

“Jack for the sake of the show yew gotta tell us what yew’re makin.” Jack must not have the braincell today.

From somewhere in the flour cloud a timer went off. Jack yelped and dropped what sounded like several pots with an amazingly loud clatter.

“If you really must know - ouch!! - I’m making - god fUCK! - baked mac and cheese with a - SHIT! - crispy top.”

“Alright well,” Albert dodged a flying blob of flaming cheese, “we’ll leave you to it. Hopefully we get to actually eat something edible.”

“Good luck,” Race turned away from Jack’s workstation and leaned towards Albert as they made their way to Mush’s station. “Do we ave a foire extinguishah here?”

“I think so?”

“Good cause we moight need it.” Albert looked at him knowingly for a long minute before the two of them snapped out of it and approached Mush.

“So Mush,” Race said, taking in the polar opposite of the mess of a station that had been Jack’s, “what ave yew got for us?”

Mush smiled, looking up from the block of cheese that he had been grating. “Today I’m going to be making my signature mac and cheese with three kinds of cheese.”

Race let out an audible sigh of relief. Finally something that sounded edible!

“Is that pleasing enough for you, Your Highness?” Mush winked mischievously and Albert giggled.

Race straightened up, checking his mouth for drool (there was none). “Yes, oim looking forward tew it.” He watched as the cheese mush was grating flaked satisfyingly into the bowl, his mouth watering at the very sight and thought of cheese. Oh cheese. Beautiful, rich, delicious cheese. “Oi would like tew sample some cheese if yew don't mind.”

Mush straightened up, putting his hands around his cheese protectively. “And I want someone to slap me so hard my eyes fall out. We can’t all get what we want, Susan B. Anthony.”

“Hollywood, moi name is Paul Hollywood.” Race glared at Mush, horrified that he would decline him the judge a cheese sample! Paul Hollywood always got ingredient samples when he asked for them! Maybe he should have put more effort into his hair today…

“I know very well who you are,” Mush went back to grating his cheese. It was as if he were mocking Race with every bit of shredded goodness that fell onto the glorious cheese mountain.

“I do believe you’ve upset Mr. Hollywood.” Albert smirked. Of course he had to join in on the make-Race-feel-like-hes-being-mocked party.

“I don’t particularly care about Mr. Hollywood’s feelings,” Mush put down the grater and reached under his counter for a pan. “What I do care about is the fate of my mac and cheese so,” he stared at the two of them, deadpan , “be gone Thots.”

“But-”

“I SAID BE GONE THOTS!” Mush pointed a wooden spoon at the two of them menacingly and Race half expected sparks to shoot out of the end like some kind of sorcery bullshit, but all he got was a cloud of flour to the face and twelve sets of confused eyes looking at him.

“Uhh,” he mustered every ounce of Paul Hollywood that he could, “thank yew Mush.” Quickly he turned away, brushing the flour out of his sharpied on beard and mustache while Albert stifled laughter next to him. “Shut up,” he muttered.

“But that was-”

“Oi said shut- oh hoi Smalls!” He tried desperately to regain his composure as they approached the final station.

“Gucci Prada my fuckin clown wig I- oh, uh, hi!” Smalls quickly put the spatula that she had been holding behind her back.

“What are yew makin for uh today?” Race took in Smalls’s station. There was a wide array of cheese on the counter, we well as spices and breadcrumbs and pasta. But something seemed...different.

Smalls looked down at her feet, suddenly very interested in the carpet.. “I’m making gluten free baked mac and cheese.”

“Why gluten free?”

“Because,” Smalls glanced behind her briefly before hissing, “because that was the only kind of pasta I could find in my cabinet that's why you feet fucker.”

Race’s toes tingled with happiness. He do it! He could say the trademark Paul Hollywood meme thing!

“Now, when yew make mac and cheese gluten free it tends to get stickey and lose some of its taiste. Ave yew tested this to make sure that wont appen?”

“Y e s,” Smalls rolled her eyes. “I put extra oil in it so the pasta wont get sticky a n d there’s lots of spices for added flavor.” She brought her spatula out from behind her back in a soldiers salute. “I won’t disappoint you, your Highness Mr. Paul Hollywwod Sir.”

“Yew bettah not,” Race laughed as he walked back to his very official looking director’s chair (he didn’t want to know how many people Katherine had had to kill to get this).

“Sue, how much toime is left?”

“TEN MINUTES COOKERS, TEN MINUTES!”

There were varying screams of frustration from around the room as his friends scrambled to get done. The smell of cooking cheese wafted from several ovens and stoves and Race smiled contentedly. Twas almost Mac Time.

•••

Ten minutes later, as promised, Race was standing behind a Very Official looking wooden table with a fork and a glass of water, ready to taste (or spit out, depending on whose it was), his friends’ mac and cheese.

“Oilright, Davey, why don’t yew bring up yewr mac.”

Davey strode up to the table confidently, somehow without a spec of food on his apron, and placed down a plate of gooey looking pasta. Man oh man he was excited! But no, today he was Paul Hollywood. No excitement. Only glares.

He picked up his fork and took a scoop of pasta, glaring at Davey for good measure as he tasted.

He chewed for far longer than actually necessary to give Davey just enough time to get nervous before giving his verdict. “Whot yew’ve actually done is quite noice, Oi rather loike the blend of the cheddar and the goat cheese, but what yew’ve done is create something that’s so soft that its lacking textah. It’s loike Oi need somethin crunchy to offset it.”

Davey nodded. “Okay.”

“But overall noice job.” He nodded, the silent cue for Davey to take his dish and return to his station.

Race surveyed the contestants and grimaced. “Jack bring yew’re flamin bomb up here.”

He thought he heard Jack mutter some half-decent curses under his breath, but not decent enough for him to repeat.

A few seconds later a lump of orange stuff with green (???) blobs on top on a plate was placed in front of him. “Roight,” he sighed. “What ave yew got there?”

“Well this is my baked mac and cheese with green goldfish topping!” Jack said proudly.

Race looked at the plate as if it were a flesh eating disease that could kill him at any second. And, knowing Jack’s track record with food, it just might. “Any reason why you chose green goldfish?”

“Adds a pop of color!” Jack bounced on his toes.

Good gosh. Race took the tiniest bite possible on his fork and lifted it to his mouth-

“Make sure you get a goldfish!” Jack insisted. “Really adds a burst of flavor!”

“Oh sure, sure.” Race picked one up before shoving the whole abomination into his mouth. He chewed for a few seconds before swallowing down as best as he could.

“Wow that is pitiful,” Race coughed. “The pasta is overcooked, and the cheese, yew’ve cooked it too much so that it’s become gummy, and all the moistah has gone into the goldfish and made them soggy.”

“Oh,” Jack sounded deflated.

“Overall the textah is a bit claggy, and no one loikes a claggy bit of cheese.”

“Right, right.” Jack stroked his invisible beard.

“Overall its dreadful and Oi’d loike it if you removed it from my sights, preferably to the bin. Next!”

•••

Almost a half hour later Race was practically done testing all of the mac and cheese, save for Mush’s and Smalls’s. Along with Jack’s trashpile, Spot’s had also been notably horrible, it was somehow burnt and undercooked at the same time? Race didn’t even want to know. Crutchie’s and JoJo’s though had been surprisingly decent, and both were in the running to win.  

“Oilroight Smalls, bring up yewr mac why don’t yew.”

A few moments later a plate of mac and cheese was dumped in front of Race with no class whatsoever. “Here you go Mr. Paul Sir.”

Race stabbed his fork into the pile of noodles. “This was the gluten free baked mac and cheese, roight?” “Yes your highness.”

Race rolled the noodles around on his tongue for a few long moments while his taste buds analyzed the flavor combinations.

“Roight so, I warned yew about this bein tasteless roight?” Smalls quirked up her eyebrow. “It’s tasteless isn’t it.”

“Yes. Get it away from me at once.”

“Of course, your lordship.” Smalls snatched the plate from the table, even curtsying to Race before making her way back to her station, picking up a fork, and digging into her own mac and cheese.

“I don't know what you’re talking about Mister Colonel Hollywood Sir, this tastes great!”

Race bushed imaginary crumbs off of his table. “And Oi’m goin tew pretend Oi didn’t hear that.” He pointed to Mush. “Mush, bring up yewr creation, if yew pleathe.”

“But of course!” Mush placed down his plate of mac and cheese in front of Race, who dug in immediately. “What you have there is parmesan, cheddar, and american cheese with elbow pasta. Enjoy.”

Race let the glorious noodles glide over his tongue as his palate was enveloped in a wonderful cheese flavor. He was amazed. He was astounded. Hell he was even speechless! What did Paul Hollywood do when he was speechless? Oh right!

“Well done Mush,” he stuck out his hand for the famous Paul Hollywood Handshake. “That’s a really great plate you’ve made.”

“Oh, thank you sir!” Mush smiled joyfully as Albert tried to sneak a bite of the mac and cheese. Race swatted his hand away with his other hand.

“In fact, it’s the best that Oi’ve had today, and Oi announce yew as Star Cooker!”

The room erupted into cheers and everyone ran to hug Mush while Race quickly finished his mac and cheese. His plan had worked perfectly. The next time he was out of pasta at three am he knew exactly who to call.

•••

“Hello? Do you need help burying the body?” A tired voice answered the phone.

“Mush, it’s Race. I’m craving mac and cheese and I don't have any pasta. Can you-”

“NO!”

_________

so how bout that huh

anyway sappy boi hours heh i love mikey and im real happy that were friends cause he's the absolute best and i cant wait to meet him next week eeee

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

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[ariadoesntwrite]

The (he)art of Craft | e.k. x reader

Words: 2173

Boys are clueless.

I know this, but for some reason I keep forgetting.

I crossed my arms in front of myself to rest them as Elmer leaped onto his bed like a flying squirrel. "When you asked me if I wanted to 'hang out with you (and the guys)', this isn't exactly what I was envisioning."

Elmer looked over at me as he scrambled to sit up, blinking in confusion. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

In all honesty, shirtless basketball in the park.

"I don't know." I shook my head and sat on the bed beside him.

I watched Elmer boot up the server, staring at the screen with barely concealed excitement. Four users were already online.

This is not exactly my idea of a hot date. Then again, maybe it's my fault for reading into things. On the other hand, I mean really, what usually comes to mind immediately when a really cute boy asks you if you want to 'hang out'?

See, that's what I thought!

You know what, though? All things considered, it could be worse. He could've asked me to play Wii Sports Bowling with him. It's supposed to be so easy the folks in nursing homes love it, right? Well apparently ole gram-grams has more virtual athletic ability in her pinky finger than I do in my entire body.

Elmer scooted closer to me and pulled out headphones, flipping the earpieces outwards so we could share the same set.

I watched as the screen started spazzing out. "Is that..." I trailed off, pointing at the screen and not sure how to put my thoughts into words as I held my part of the headphones up to my ear.

Elmer quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah, it's usual for this section. The reason it's so glitchy is because someone spawned way too many ocelot assets."

"Hey guys, Elmer has a girl ov—" Romeo started to say, but he was cut off by somebody who was way louder.

"You can never have too many ocelots!" A distinctive, high-pitched but still decidedly male voice exclaimed through the headset.

"The queen of the felines has spoken." Elmer rolled his eyes and smiled as his avatar started jerkily walking towards a large light blue and white building that touched the sky. "This is Racetrack's cat castle—"

"A cat-stle, if you will." Racetrack interrupted.

"I will not." Albert shot back.

Racetrack cleared his throat and adopted a 'tour guide' voice. "Business hours are from 9:00pm to 5:00am, or for the low low price of three diamonds you can get an all-access pass."

"Good grief." Albert muttered under his breath.

"Killing one of my sweet, adorable, cuddly babies— I mean, very loyal subjects— results in an immediate ban for life." Racetrack continued, undeterred. "Donations of precious gemstones and fish, cooked or raw, are always appreciated."

"Yeah, good luck with that." Romeo replied with a small snort.

"I'll come tour your catstle, Race!" Crutchie said cheerily.

"Finally, some proper respect around here."

I gave Elmer the side-eye. "Why isn't it pink?"

"Pink? You think I would use pink?" Racetrack asked with an air of disdain, scoffing. "Please. Pink is a strong, masculine color, fit only for the he-est of men. My graceful feminine eyes can only bear the lightest, most delicate shades of blue, as is befitting a most proper young lady such as myself."

Elmer made eye contact with me and shrugged.

"Also, pink is Romeo's color." Racetrack mumbled with a defeated tone.

Romeo let out a triumphant laugh. "Ya snooze ya lose, loser!"

Alerts in all caps popped up on the screen as three more usernames joined.

Elmer nudged me with his shoulder to get my attention. I tried and failed not to blush. "And to our left, we have Henry's trailer park. In Minecraft, imagination is the only limit, and Henry decided to build a trailer park. Why, I have no idea."

"Because heck you, that's why!" Henry said, but there was no bite in his tone.

"Watch your ****ing language on my good Christian Minecraft server!" Crutchie yelled.

The random conversations going on between others in the background went silent.

"oh no." Crutchie said really quietly, but we could all hear it due to the aforementioned radio silence.

Jojo started muttering The Lord's Prayer to himself.

Somebody let out a very loud snort.

"Gross!" Albert shrieked. "Say it, don't spray it!"

"Kiss my butt!" Racetrack shot back.

There was some fuzzy noise, like somebody dropped their headset on the ground and they were wrestling with each other now.

Jack sighed. "Hey, if y'all are gonna hate-boink, can you please mute your channels please and thank you!"

"Shut up!" Racetrack and Albert shouted at the same time.

Jack cackled like a maniac to himself.

"Okay, you know what?" Albert asked, clearly annoyed. "Keep it up, but I'm gonna tell Katherine all about your little problem with–"

Elmer gasped and pulled his earpiece away from his head. He quickly crossed himself before returning to listening in on the conversation.

"No!" Jack protested as Albert proceeded to spill some very personal information. "You wouldn't!"

"—Don't test me." Albert finished.

"I did not need to know that." Jojo said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Ditto." Henry murmured in agreement.

A notification popped up on the screen alerting everybody that Buttons was online and had joined the server, bringing the total up to eight. "Hey, guys! Know what?" He asked, innocently.

"That the unflappable Jack Kelly apparently has a raging butt rash." Romeo answered matter-of-factory.

Buttons seemed at a loss for words. "...Oh." he said, finally.

"I'm dealing with it, okay?" Jack asked, annoyed. "I have cream and I'm taking oatmeal baths—"

"TMI, bro." Albert interrupted.

"You started it!" Jack exclaimed, exasperatedly.

"Your mom started it!" Albert retorted. The height of maturity, that one.

"My mom is dead!"

"Oh yeah? So's mine, you ain't special!" Albert said breezily.

A chorus of 'So is mine' rang through the airspace.

"Okay, well that's depressing." Buttons commented. "Who wants to duel?"

"Ooh, pick me! I'm always a ho for dying!" Racetrack yelled enthusiastically.

"Race, are you okay?" Crutchie asked, concerned.

There was no response for a few seconds, and then I heard the sound of somebody facepalming.

"Race, you're an idiot." Albert said flatly.

"Oh, wait a second."

Elmer adjusted his grip on the headset. "What'd he do?"

Albert sighed. "He shot finger guns at the screen."

"Woooowww." Jojo said, totally done.

"You're just jealous." Race clicked his tongue.

Jojo scoffed. "Why would I be jealous of an evil leprechaun? Oh wait, no, that's Albert."

"Hey!"

I elbowed Elmer. "Are they always like this?"

Elmer nodded. "Constantly."

"Uh, guys? Anyone else's game bugging out?" Jack asked. "Oh wait never mind, I just wandered a little too close to the crazy cat lady's cottage."

Racetrack huffed. "Heck you, butt rash boy."

Jojo let out a mock offended gasp. "Such language!"

"Frick you, HoHo."

Jojo gasped again. "Frick you!"

"That's gay." Racetrack said, snickering.

"You're gay!" Jojo replied.

"So what if I am?! Gay means happy, and I'm the happiest person I know! So there!" Racetrack punctuated his sentence with a somewhat audible 'blep'.

Elmer fake-coughed and raised his voice loud enough to cover Jojo and Racetrack's 'argument'. “To our right is Mush's giant flower garden." He did a slow pan of the colorful, pixelated blooms.

I leaned forward to examine them. It was quite impressive, if only from the sheer numbers of mass collection.

"Dare you to steal one, Elmer." Romeo piped up.

Elmer shook his head vehemently. "Heck no, unlike most of you, I actually value my life."

"Lives having value?" Albert scoffed.

"In this economy?" Racetrack finished for him.

"Now we're coming up on Romeo's super tacky building." Elmer leaned back against the wall as a large, misshapen, pink, vaguely-heart-shaped structure came into view.

"Look, I had a plan originally, but math and grids are hard." Romeo explained.

Racetrack let out a derisive scoff. "Grids are literally the easiest thing, you wannabe fashion icon."

Romeo blew a raspberry.

"Your mom is literally the easiest thing." Albert commented.

I could practically hear Racetrack's smirk from here. "You know, what I'm gathering from all the 'your mom' jokes is, you just really wanna be my daddy."

Somebody started making vey exaggerated gagging noises.

"Uh, pass." Albert muttered under his breath.

"You coughing up a hairball over there or something, Jojo?" Henry asked.

Jojo ceased his gagging. "No, I'm good."

"I bet Race has rabies." Buttons quipped.

"Don't be ridiculous, Race doesn't have rabies!" Crutchie protested. "I had him tested and everything."

"Interesting." I murmured under my breath.

"This is my house!" Elmer announced with a large grin, completely oblivious. "It's one of those tiny houses!"

"That's a very pretentious way of saying 'dirt hut starter home'." Crutchie teased.

"Wow, that's so funny I forgot to laugh." Elmer shot back. "No, it's like one of those minimalist houses that used to be all the rage, but in Minecraft! See?" He gestured at the small building on the screen, eyes sparkling.

I smiled back, his energy practically contagious. "It's very cute." Just like its builder, is what I did not say to him.

"And fully functional!" Elmer opened the door and started pointing out various features. "In the floor is a crafting table and a bed, to the side we have a furnace and a double-wide chest—"

"Your mom has a double-wide chest!" Racetrack exclaimed gleefully before erupting into laughter.

Elmer snapped his mouth shut with an unamused look on his face.

"Dang you Race, I was about to say that." Albert said, almost whining.

Elmer let out a sigh and moved his avatar to the back of the house. "And here's a small vegetable garden."

"Po Tay Toes!" Albert exclaimed, immediately perking back up.

"Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew!" Jack added. The first thing he's said in a while, now that I think about it.

"You Irish people scare me." Racetrack commented.

"You're part Irish." Albert said flatly.

"Yeah, and?" Racetrack asked defensively. "I scare myself!"

"That makes two of us." Albert muttered under his breath.

I stole a glance towards Elmer, who was engrossed in harvesting his virtual vegetables. I can't say I understand how or why people invest so much time in this kind of stuff, but at least it makes him happy.

It'd be nice if I could do that.

I don't know what I'm doing, but if I don't ask then I'll spend years replaying this day over and over in my head at 2:00a.m. in the morning overanalyzing every single little detail. Here goes nothing.

I smiled teasingly and nudged Elmer with my elbow, gently. “So, do you invite all the girls out to watch you play Minecraft or am I just special?"

"Say what now?" Elmer looked over at me suddenly, blinking as if he was coming out of a trance as his eyes re-adjusted to the real world.

Uh-oh.

"This is a date?"

"This isn't a date?" We both asked in unison.

There was an awkward silence for about ten seconds, which was then broken by the sound of loud crunching over the headset.

"Henry!" About five or six voices exclaimed.

"What?" Henry asked defensively. "This is entertaining, thus, snacks are a must! Can y'all blame me?"

"Elmer," Racetrack sighed, "when you ask a girl to quote, 'hang out', unquote, that's code for a date. Just like Netflix and Chill is—"

"Stop! Don't ruin his innocence!" Buttons interrupted.

"I'm just saying, he's not gonna get very far if he doesn't know—"

Elmer pulled the headset down and placed it on the bed between us, hitting mute at the same time. "Look, this didn't go the way I planned, 'cause I was gonna ask you out for real, but then I panicked, so no wonder you've been getting mixed signals, but..."

He stared down at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Can we just finish out today platonic and like, start fresh tomorrow? And I promise, if it's what you want, I will ask you on a real, proper date then."

I grinned and turned back to face the screen so I wasn't staring at him and making him even more uncomfortable. "Sounds good to me."

"Cool." Elmer returned the grin and did two thumbs up at me, shoulders scrunched up, then picked the headset back up and held it up to his ear.

I leaned in to unmute it and was greeted with a cacophony of all the boys arguing with each other over what exactly was happening on our end.

I hesitantly reached over to place my arm around Elmer's shoulders. "Do you mind if... is this okay?"

Elmer beamed from ear to ear and leaned into my touch. "Yeah."

"What's going on?" Romeo asked loudly, effectively putting a damper on the moment. "I need visuals!"

[nerdsies]

Goodbye From the Refuge

[broadwaycantdie]

Disneyland / Part 2...The Destination! - Newsies (Pride) Month . Day 9

( all ) + ( modern ) + ( hc story )

a/n: i wanna go to disneyland so bad // also ah disney has pride merch now that’s so cute ! // ps. i will not make a 3rd part of the ride home cause that’s already too much lmao i just had a lot of fun with the road trip part i wanted to split it up

( this is part two of them actually at disneyland, click here for the road trip and journey of them getting here...it’s a wild one )

warnings: none

background: Every year the newsies all get together and go on their annual Disneyland trip. They drive from Manhattan to Anaheim because it’s cheaper than buying 20+ plane tickets. They also have a collective jar in the lodging house that everyone puts money into to help pay. Davey plans the whole thing for months and somehow things still go wrong. It’s never not a wild ride with their family. But every year they still enjoy it.

——————————————————————————

before they left the hotel, Davey made them plan everything out

it wasn’t a strict plan, but he knew that total freedom meant total chaos

he made a set of rules

rule #1 : you cannot be alone, stay with your buddy or a group at all times

rule #2 : meet back at the entrance after the fireworks so everyone can be counted and we can find people who are lost or don’t make it back in time and we can go to the hotel together

rule #3 : have fun

of course Davey would add “have fun” as a rule

he’d forget if he didn’t

they could barely sleep, everyone was so excited

so they got to the parks bright and early at 8am

they grouped themselves off

they ended up with 6 main groups

Jack, Davey, Bill, Darcy, Katherine, Sarah, and Les

Crutchie, Buttons, Henry, and Kenny

Specs, Romeo, Jojo, and Tommy Boy

Smalls, Sniper, and Finch

Mush and Kid Blink

Spot, Race, Albert, Elmer, Mike, Ike, Hotshot, Bart, and Myron

sometimes people broke into smaller groups depending on who wanted to go on what rides, when someone wanted to eat or didn’t, or when some people just wanted to be alone together

the smaller groups stayed together the whole time—Smalls’ group, Crutchie’s group, and Mush’s group—but the bigger groups sometime split up

especially Spot’s group

they started together but by the 3rd ride they split up

they would periodically meet up throughout the day to eat or ride certain rides

mainly the couples split up and the single friends stayed together

Davey and Jack left their group for a little while unexpectedly and it was actually Albert who found them making out in a bathroom stall

“Oh! So it’s like that now, huh? Way to go guys! Didn’t know you had it in ya!”

“You’re not gonna tell anyone, right, Dasilva? You know we aren’t usually like this...it just kinda happened yanno, happiest place on Earth and, uh, we were feeling that.”

“Oh, I can tell! Might wanna pick some tighter pants next time, Jacobs!”

the cocky bastard walked out, finally having something on Davey

he’d never let them live that down

Smalls’ favorite ride is Peter Pan’s Flight

they love that ride with all their heart and their group didn’t mind waiting in like for 45 minutes just to ride it

everyone—and i mean everyone—played heads up while waiting in line

it was just a given—that’s what you do

Race, Spot, Albert, and Elmer all got in a teacup together

it was absolutely chaos

while everyone else spun along nicely and enjoyed the ride

these boys used all of their combined strength—which was a lot—and spun themselves as fast as possible the whole time

Ike almost got sick just watching them

Katherine is a rollercoaster junkie

she rides every coaster and can’t get enough

Sarah also liked rollercoasters!

just not as much

but she does ride every one with Katherine and boy do they have fun

“Wow, I haven’t screamed that much since we left”

Katherine almost choked

( they shared a “special” night together right before they left so they could get a fill and not be as tempted like some other people )

everyone bought ears

it was like an unspoken rule that you had to get a pair every year

this year was special though

this was the first year that disney released its pride collection

so of course everyone was on that

Race spent most of his money on pride merch

he got rainbow shirt, ears, sunglasses, socks, and a pin

he was so happy about the collection, Spot secretly bought a pair of earrings from it and put one in just to see the look of joy on his boyfriends face

it was worth the money

Crutchie ate so many churros

half of his money went to just churros

worth it tho

Bill and Darcy really liked The Little Mermaid ride

obviously

Bill’s love of fish and Darcy’s love of mythical creatures

what other ride would they like more?

they cuddled up close in the seashell and watched the ride play out with so much happiness in their eyes

Sarah and Katherine took the iconic photo of “let’s kiss in front of the castle” and it was the cutest goddamn thing of all time

Mush and Kid Blink made out on Rodger Rabbit’s Cartoon Spin ride

but what’s new

everyone at some point rode Splash Mountain

it’d be a sin if you didn’t

Spot and Race rode it together

Race made Spot sit up front cause his big body could block most of the water

also because Spot was wearing a white t-shirt

“Damn, babe! You haven’t been that wet since the car ride here!”

Specs, Romeo, Jojo, and Tommy Boy all rode the Matterhorn together

and Specs glasses flew off his face during one of the quick turns

after the ride everyone was panicking but he just calmly pulled out a second pair of glasses from his backpack and continued on with his day; unbothered

Crutchie would never admit if his leg hurt but about halfway through the day while walking to the next ride he fell

his leg just gave out and he just sat on the floor trying not to cry

everyone with him helped him up and Buttons got him a wheelchair

it wasn’t all bad though

Crutchie and Buttons got to go to the front of all the lines!

somehow everyone got the idea to meet in toontown at the same time

everyone decided to get embroidered hats

most people got their name or the date or something cute

like Mush and Kid Blink got matching ones that said “Blush”

or how Kenny got one that said “Ken-Ken” cause that’s his nickname of his nickname

and Jojo and Tommy Boy got each other’s pet names on theirs—Jojo’s says “Darling” and Tommy Boy’s says “Sweetheart”

while Jack and Davey got the date of when they first met because it was instantly love at first sight

but some of these dumbasses...are dumbasses

Hotshot would never stoop down to that level of stupidity

so he got together the Brooklyn Boys and got hats that said just that

Mike and Ike have been dumbasses since birth

so their hats got their full names on them

you know

Mike’s said “Michael and Ichael”

and Ike’s said “Isaac and Misaac”

“Those aren’t your real names!”

“And? How would you know my names not Michael Misaac Garcia? And his isn’t Isaac Ichael Garcia? Huh?”

“I—“

Albert and Elmer didn’t get anything too crazy

but they did get a something that just they would understand

they got the date of the day they lost their virginity to each other

and when people ask they just say it’s the first time they said “i love you” to each other

and now Spot and Race

do these boys have ANY chill? ever?

they literally got a sex joke on theirs

Spot’s said “Calvary’s Coming”

and Race’s said “I’m Calvary”

dumbasses

but to even it out, they also got cute ones

cause they are a couple who can do both

so they got “tu sei amore” and “you are love “ on their second pair—Race’s was in Italian because that’s how he always says it to Spot to make him swoon, and Spot’s is the same in English for when he repeats it back

everyone was so scared of getting lost or losing someone

not only because that’s completely terrifying

but because Davey would never let them hear the end of it

for extra caution, some people held hands to not be separated—Katherine and Sarah, Jojo and Tommy Boy, Mush and Kid Blink, Bill and Darcy—some just had a mutual understanding to not wonder off—Specs and Romeo, Jack and Davey, Hotshot and Mike, Albert and Elmer—and some...well not some...just Race

Race was on a fucking leash

like one of those monkey backpacks with the leash for children who wander off

cause every year Race gets lost so this year no one was gonna risk it

Spot holds on to the leash and everytime Race starts running towards another ride he yanks him back

he’s fallen a few times

and every time, mr. dramatic himself will pull the “woe is me” routine and wouldn’t get up until Spot lifted him up

he tried to get Spot to carry him and it only worked once when he actually cut his knee on the ground

it might’ve looked weird but hey, at least Race didn’t get lost this year

when it got dark they all went to the firework show and watched the magic

all the couples decided to be cute and take the “kissing my partner at the fireworks” pics

and they were all fucking adorable

some were soft and cute while others were a little saucier

but they all came out really good

they all met up where Davey told them to meet and they actually all made it there in one piece!

what a surprise! actually!

they all went back to the hotel full of joy, love, and happiness

and they couldn’t wait to go back next year <3