#davey trinkets

[collateral-joy]

- Promo: David Susskind Show

[we-are-inevitable]

i think jack would keep his room really tidy. he organizes his clothes and sneakers by color, he keeps all of his art supplies in storage under his bed, his comics are all on a shelf, and- despite his creative streak- he’s not really a maximalist so there’s not much in the room to even work with. he’s just never had stuff. maybe a few pictures on the walls, maybe he’ll hang up the paintings he’s most proud of, but home has never been stationary for him and moving a lot of stuff is a bitch and a half, so he keeps his decor minimal. sure, he would love to have his room decked out— but he has what he needs, and if he doesn’t, he’ll figure it out. he always had. he’ll borrow things from charlie and racer, or scour thrift shops and buy-sell-trade facebook groups until something works. he’s never had the luxury of storing and collecting and keeping things, and now, he stresses about it— what if he has to leave? what if he can’t take everything he has? what if he has too much, how can he delegate, how can he choose?

davey, however, is a maximalist. and davey’s room reflects that. it’s not dirty, but it’s cluttered, and there’s really no rhyme or reason. he has books all over the place and trinkets and collections he’s been gathering since elementary. his clothing is all stuffed in his closet, and he has a hard time getting rid of things, so he still has flannels from middle school and old graphic tees that don’t reflect his style anymore. he says he’s saving them for les. that’s the thing about growing up lower middle class- you save and save because sometimes you might need that old extension cord or that bag of loose screws or those old clothes from childhood. davey’s room is a shrine to everyone he’s ever been, everything he’s ever liked, and getting rid of things means the possibility of needing something, and davey never wants to need anything. needing is a burden, and he’s independent to a fault.

jack can’t be tied down to anything. davey has ties to everything. eventually they’ll find the balance.

[more-sonorous]

what i want to be (javey)

continuation of my transmasc canon era davey oneshot! because he is so near and dear to my heart.

tw/ for a little bit of blood and a lot a bit of davey thinking mean things about himself (and a lot a bit of jack saying nice things in return)

.....

David was not an idiot.

Or at least he tried not to be an idiot, but he found himself failing at doing so more and more as time passed. 

In his defense, it had been a rotten week. Sarah’s October birthday always reminded David of how much his parents favored his siblings over him, to put it bluntly. How could they not? Les and Sarah were golden children. Friendly social butterflies with gorgeous smiles and dimples, each with their own quirks, but nothing truly and debilitatingly strange. Not like David, who was too loud and curious as a child and too quiet and withdrawn as an adolescent, too opinionated, too awkward, with his trouble understanding expressions and tones of voice and his hatred for the skirts and dresses and pretty hairdos his mother always tried on him. Not what his parents expected from their middle child, surely. 

In a little over a month, David would turn eighteen. November. A bleak month already, but even bleaker when his birthday celebrations were compared to Sarah’s. They always had a small little party for all of Sarah’s friends, and Sarah would get a gift especially from Aba because it was no secret that she was the child he favored most. They always ranted about politics together and seemed to understand one another on a higher level-- even though Sarah denied it to David, it was no secret she was her father's child and she loved him deeply for it. Ima always gave her a present as well, usually a specially tailored dress or new blouse and skirt, because Ima loved to sew. For Sarah’s nineteenth birthday last year she’d received a real and true set of petticoats with lace and trimmings, a matter that had her pleasantly thrilled for weeks. 

David, on the other hand, received a combined present from both of his parents on account of money being rather tight around Hanukkah, and David never really liking any of the girlish things they bought him. He didn’t want new skirts or lace cuffs, and his father was awful at buying special little gifts for him. Mayer knew the brooches and political pamphlets and trinkets Sarah would enjoy, but he never seemed to understand David’s taste. It was fine. There was no house party, since David had no close friends to invite to such a thing. He’d always been too strange or odd for the other schoolchildren, and friendless-ness was something he’d learned to live with. Ima would make him rugelach and kiss him on the forehead in the morning, his father would hug him briefly and sincerely, and they’d let him have the day to himself to read or go walking or really do whatever he pleased in the solitude he’d convinced himself to prefer. Though he’d never dare complain, David hated his birthday. 

He hated comparing his birthday to Les and Sarah’s birthdays (Les was absolutely the darling of the family by far– he received the most gifts and celebration but it wasn’t quite fair to compare, since he was so much younger and meant to be spoilt while still a child) because it forced him to acknowledge how lackluster he was in comparison to his siblings.

David still loved them, of course, but birthdays were the reason October put him in a constant state of melancholy. 

The week in general had been horrible, what with Sarah’s birthday celebration and all of her presents and the love Aba showered her in. David’s depressive mood had thrown him out of his careful routine, and he found himself snapping at his family and the newsboys more often, much to his own embarrassment. He was close to breaking and maybe that was the reason why he was such a stupid idiot when he left the house that morning.

David kept meticulous track of his cycles every month. Three days before he was due to start, he always began wearing cotton padding just in case. He’d never encountered any problems and he was typically able to hide his cramping and irritability behind facades of general fatigue and teasing jabs that hit a little bit too hard.

That October morning, however, he made a very idiotic decision. Maybe it was because Sarah was admiring the socialist manifesto their father had bought her with the happiest eyes David had ever seen, or because Les refused to get out of bed and dress himself, but David did not put his cotton padding on. He was due to start in three days, after all, and he didn’t typically start early. They were in a rush. He was agitated and upset and feeling more worthless than usual. So he was an idiot about it.

“David.” Les hissed, tugging on his arm as they walked back towards the lodging house with Jack, arms free of papers and pockets a bit heavier with their daily earnings. He tugged again, stumbling along and whisper-grumbling like he didn’t want Jack to hear. “David.”

“What?” He snapped, coming to a halt and curling his hands into fists. He’d been feeling cruddy all day and Les begging him to buy a candy or stare into a shop window was the last thing he needed. David and Jack had been walking side by side in companionable silence, two of Jack’s fingers caught in the loop of David’s belt. He was very preoccupied with enjoying the way their hips and arms brushed together as they walked, and he did not have the time, energy, or patience to deal with any Leshem Jacobs shenanigans. 

Jack strolled to a halt as well, arms crossed loosely and brow furrowed in confusion. Les’s wide, brown eyes glanced between David and Jack, and he worried his bottom lip anxiously.

“What?” David tried again, through gritted teeth this time. 

His little brother tugged him down by the tie, until he stumbled into a crouch. Les was at the perfect height to cup his hands around his own mouth and lean in to press himself close to David, whispering right up in his ear. David tried to flare his own agitation as he caught his balance, hoping and praying that Les wasn’t about to ask him to play some stupid prank on Jack. 

Les’s voice was hardly even audible, a barely-there whisper that somehow carried notes of anxiety within it. “You’re bleeding.”

“Where?” He rolled his eyes and checked his palms for any sort of cut– but Les was very serious as he tugged on David’s pant leg. David raised an eyebrow, getting awfully tired of repeating himself. “Where, Leshem?”

“You know.” His little brother whispered pointedly, dark eyebrows raised and face creased with worry. “Down… um… down there.”

A moment of confusion passed before horror took over completely, spawning a tight sort of panic that made David feel tense from the soles of his feet to his shoulders. He wasn’t due for at least three days but apparently this was happening there and then and oh, God, a subtle glance down proved that Les was right. His gray trousers were darkened just between his legs and somehow he hadn’t noticed– probably too distracted by Jack.

Jack. 

This could not be happening in front of Jack. The panic really began to set in and David thanked God above that he hadn’t tied his bandages too tightly because he could feel his breathing picking up already. What the hell was he supposed to do? He’d been an idiot and left all of his padding at the apartment, and Jack was right there and he could notice at any minute and then David’s entire life would be over, and he spiraled into a frenzy as he jolted to his feet and grabbed Les tightly by the collar.

“Les and I have to go home now.” He snapped at Jack, barely able to hear his own voice over the rushing of blood in his ears.

“What?” Jack’s confused expression only got more confused as he stared at the brothers. David knew he and Les’s panicked expressions were almost laughably similar because their faces got red and their eyes got very big, but even Jack didn’t seem to think that this was a laughing matter. “Hey, what in the world is goin’ on? Way to leave a guy out of the loop–”

“Sorry, Jack, have a nice day. I hope the poker tournament at the lodging house goes well! See you tomorrow! 

Determined to flee as quickly as possible, David grabbed Les by the suspenders and steered him forward, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. Of course, Jack was a stubborn little bastard when he wanted to be, and he jogged right up to Davey’s side. “Davey, what the hell?”

“I forgot we have… um… chores.”

Even Les rolled his eyes at David’s horrible lying abilities as Jack raised both of his perfect eyebrows. “Yeah, you wanna try that again?”

“No. I want you to turn around right now and go back to the Lodging House and pretend like this didn’t happen.” He gritted out, eyes plastered directly forward and tone clipped. David’s anxiety was cutting into the typical irritability he felt during this hellish week, when his own body betrayed him and reminded him that he’d never be who he wanted to be. 

“Excuse me?” Jack laughed almost incredulously, mouth dropping open. 

“You’re excused.” David snarled, trying to show Jack that he meant to be taken seriously and praying that his anxiety didn’t come across as obviously as he felt it. His fingers were trembling around his brother and now he could feel the uncomfortable dampness between his legs, ever-present and taunting. "Now go away.

“You ain’t doin’ yourself any fuckin’ favors, Davey, you’re only scarin’ me more–”

He couldn’t stop a noise of frustration from bubbling up. “Jack, when are you ever going to learn how to take a hint? Everything is fine, but we need to go home right now. So leave me alone. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

David took the opportunity to shove Les through a tightly packed group of pedestrians, trying not to cringe at all of the strangers shoving and bumping against him. He felt about an inch or two away from retching all over the sidewalk as he tried to lose Jack in the throng of people, Les taking his hand and wordlessly speeding up their pace. David could scarcely breathe as they rounded the corner, clutching onto his little brother’s hand like a lifeline. This was bad. It was really bad, bordering on horrible, because Jack would be upset with him in the morning. But at least there was one good sign– Jack never chased after anyone except for Katherine. He was too comfortable with himself, too confident to go running after other people. Only her, and he loved her religiously. David felt a sick sort of happiness as he acknowledged the fact that Jack didn’t care for him in any manner other than a fleeting surface level friendship. He cradled that reassurance close to his chest as he and Les shouldered past other pedestrians, weaving through the most complicated path possible. He’d pretty much convinced himself that they were in the clear when a thickly accented voice cut through the space behind them.

“Davey– que carajo, Dave can you just– is that blood? Jesus fuckin’ Christ are you bleeding?” Rough arms grabbed him by the shoulders and David’s heart practically stopped in his chest as he wheeled around to face Jack, who had defied all logic and chased them through the crowds. Panicked honey-brown eyes stared down, down there, and Davey seized up like a stopped clock, no ticking in his brain or chest or heart. He wanted to freeze, melt, die, maybe. “Are you hurt– what happened– hold on a second– you– you– oh.”

Then Jack’s eyes got big and flicked right up to meet David’s. Maybe it was because he’d been feeling lethargic and sick and pained all day, maybe it was his previously sour mood, maybe it was the fact that the understanding dawning on Jack’s face was the most sickening thing David had ever seen– but his bottom lip was already wobbling as he shoved the other boy away. “Just– just don’t.”

If he ever thought he had a chance with Jack, his hopes were crushed and crumbled into nothing now. His eyes were stinging and he could barely breathe as he squeezed Les’s hand tight and turned on his heel, stumbling into a nearby alleyway. Remarkably, Jack was still on his tail and Davey had no idea how to explain this sudden annoying pursuit, other than the fact that Jack wanted to beat the shit out of him and he just couldn’t let that happen in front of Les.

“Davey, Davey would you just slow down for one goddamn second–” 

“Les,” David choked out through tears, “Would you wait by the lamppost for me?”

“But–”

He was already pushing the younger boy towards the aforementioned lamppost, trying his very hardest not to cry. “We'll just be a second.”

Then, steeling himself up for the worst soaking of his life, he marched resolutely into the alleyway and parked himself, standing straight and tall. Then Jack rounded the corner looking incredibly concerned and all of David’s half-assed plans to remain resilient and tough as the person he considered to be his best friend tore him apart all fell to shit. He was crying before he could stop himself.

“P– can you just wait to do this when my little brother isn’t with me? I can’t– I don’t want him to see me losing a fight.” He sobbed, the very idea of Les having to walk him home all battered and bruised by Jack’s hands absolutely tearing him apart. “Please. I w- I won’t ever step foot in the circulation yard again, Jack, I just– I really– I’m begging you not to, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he had to watch you h- hit–”

“Watch me– God, Davey, oh my God, you think I want to hurt you?” Jack breathed, a look of unbridled terror taking over his gorgeous face. “Oh, Dave, Davey-mine, God, no. Mierda.”

Within moments, Jack was gathering him up into a tight hug, almost trembling with forced gentleness. David had no earthly clue what was happening, but he tucked his nose into Jack’s shoulder and let tears streak his cheeks as he breathed in the smells of cigarette smoke and sweat. The calloused fingers of one tanned hand threaded through David’s curls. “You just– it’s what anyone would–”

“Let’s shut this shit down right now, ‘cause I would never lay a hand on you. Never. Do you understand me?” He’d never heard Jack’s voice so firm and simultaneously anxious at the same time, and it wrenched a guttural little noise from him. Then Jack’s hands were cupping his cheeks and he stared at those resolute brown eyes, wanting to melt away and hide forever. “Davey. I need ta’ hear you say it. If I had to choose between dyin’ and hurtin’ you then I’m dead, do you get that?”

“But–” His chest shook and he squeezed Jack’s wrists almost desperately. “You know why I’m bleeding, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, I gathered that much but I– fuck, I’m just surprised, cariño, not angry. I don’ think I’ve ever been that angry with you. I mean– you know a guy for four months, and this ain’t exactly the shit you expect to find out about him. A’course, that don’t mean it ain’t okay with me, it just… caught me off guard.” Jack dragged one of his rough thumbs over David’s cheekbone and he felt that same sense of ridiculous awe and relief all over again, just like he had in that alleyway with Race back in August. “I ain’t ever gonna lay a finger on you. Understood? David. Come on and tell me you understand, cielito.”

“I understand.” His words warbled with emotion. 

Jack just looked at him like he was seeing right through his eyes and straight into his soul. David wanted to scream. “Good. Nothin’ is ever gonna change that.”

David couldn’t handle it. He was just too homosexual. Too goddamn homosexual to stare into Jack’s understanding brown eyes and feel his warm touch, too goddamn homosexual to believe the fact that Jack was standing here accepting him, not wanting to pummel the life out of him but instead aching to comfort him. He pulled himself out of Jack’s grasp and rubbed his hands over his face, tension making his shoulders hurt with rigidity.

Anxious footsteps carefully trailed behind him. “Davey?”

“You’re not… this isn’t how you’re supposed to react.” He whispered, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring down at his shoes. “You’re supposed to be angry.”

“Why’s that? Because some stupid rich folk and the stupid rules they created want me to be angry? Bullshit.” Jack reached for him, obviously wanting to touch, and David shrugged him off nearly instantly. He couldn’t take it. 

“Not just that. I’ve been lying to you. And… and the fact that you’re accepting it and not trying to put me in my place is just going to make it worse.” He whispered, hoarse and miserable and past the point of caring about his ruined trousers. “You’re egging it on.”

After a moment of hesitation, Jack settled with leaning up against the wall next to David. He was less than an inch away, reclined effortlessly against the bricks with his lovely black hair falling in curtains over his forehead. David could just barely feel his warmth, could sense the tension radiating off of him. “Egging what on?”

“My… my strangeness.” He gestured to himself. The clothes he’d sewn so carefully, his awkward, lanky proportions and the uncomfortable stain that had started this whole mess. His hair, recently cropped again, because he’d never ever be able to live with it long again after the freeing euphoria of having it short. The weirdness. The person that had been lurking under the surface of pressed skirts and waist-length curls of chocolate brown for all his life, scaring everyone away for years. His true self, hesitantly peeking out in bits and pieces, strange and different. “This. Whatever it is. I… I shouldn’t be doing it. I should be going by– you should be calling me–”

He couldn’t even say the name. It felt like poison on his tongue. He hated it. 

“What do you want to be called?” Jack asked delicately, his gaze searing the side of David’s face. “‘Cause I’m calling you that. Not what you think I should be calling you. Or not what your parents think, or society, or whatever. What do you want?”

“David. Davey, Dave, all of the other things you call me.” He buried his face in his hands as memories of Spanish endearments and his favorite, Davey-mine, all echoed in his head. That was what he wanted. 

“Then that’s what I’m calling you. That’s your name. David. Plain and simple.” Jack’s worn-out leather work boot inched slightly to the right, bumping against David’s badly-shined lace up boot. Jack’s laces didn’t match. David’s shoes  were stolen from his parents’ wardrobe, specifically from within a box of his father’s old clothes his parents were keeping for Les. “And you’re a man, if you want to be.”

His eyes stung with tears as he rolled that question around in his head. The ever-present pit in his chest finally seemed to have an explanation, and as he said it aloud for the first time, his heart broke a little bit. Now he understood himself. ”I really want to be." 

Maybe even needed to be, but he didn’t say that piece aloud. He couldn’t imagine going back to his old life. Not when he’d tasted the sweetness of being one of the newsies, unabashedly himself. Locking himself in that cage once more would be an indescribable torture.

“You are a man, Davey. To me and all of the other guys. David Jacobs, smartest guy I know. Prob’ly the best-looking, too.” His voice honeyed with the tease as he bumped their shoulders together, melting David bit by bit with the endless kindness and love he seemed to possess. “I never saw you as anyone else and I never will, neither.” 

A tear or two slipped as he nodded, tilting his head down and to his left to awkwardly press against Jack’s shoulder. Jack pressed an actual kiss to his hair before wrapping him up in a soft, gentle sort of embrace. “Jack. You’re… you’re a really good person.”

His firm chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Nah, this is the bare minimum of what the world owes you, Dave.”

That made him cry, really and truly, and he was just lucky to have Jack rocking him back and forth in a sturdy embrace. David had never felt so loved before. 

They spent a while lingering together, letting David work through all of his conflicting emotions while Jack stood firmly by. Their roles had swapped, usually firm and unwavering David was there for Jack, who had never known stability, to lean on for support. This was a strange departure from their usual dynamic, especially for David and his bone-deep hatred of vulnerability. Honesty reminded him of those childhood evenings when his parents would sit him on the couch and lecture him gently (with undisguised fear and anxiety in their eyes) about how the things he liked weren’t quite acceptable. Honesty reminded him of bad, miserable things. Of feeling like too much within his own skin or too little too. Still, it was more than lovely to have a shoulder to cry on. After a long enough time passed, Les came racing in, brandishing a metal pipe which he seemed intent on bashing Jack’s knees in.

Once he was convinced that no one was going to hurt his brother, Les was subdued and begrudgingly decided to trust Jack again. So they walked Les back to the lodging house and left him in Crutchie’s capable hands. Then, Jack took Davey to Medda’s theatre and he found himself in a washroom, carefully wiping his legs clean. 

It seemed that Jack only got more lovely with every passing day. In that alleyway, David fell hopelessly and irreparably in love with him. How could he not? Jack had found out about his lies and deceit and still cared for him. He was even scrounging about in costume storage looking for a new pair of trousers while David cleaned himself up. He was just wonderful, plain and simply, and that made the fact that David couldn’t have him hurt even more. A little knife, twisting into that hollow beneath his ribcage, teasing that Jack was both accepting and unavailable.

Still, David thought of Katherine. He never stood a chance– not against a woman of her caliber. Rich, intelligent, a perfect flirty spitfire to match Jack step for step. One day Jack was going to marry her and disappear into New York’s upper crust, leaving David stranded as just about everyone tended to do.

He’d gotten used to the loneliness. Didn’t mean he liked it any.

Feeling fully and entirely dejected with his entire lower abdomen twisted into nasty, debilitating cramps, he curled up on the tile floor of the washroom and let the chill sink into his skin. Somehow this had become his life. Vacillating between the happiest he’d ever been and the most miserable. A future of corsets and petticoats and no Jack Kelly was making him sick to his stomach.

What could’ve been an hour or just five minutes later found a gentle knocking on the door. He forced himself onto his feet and peaked just his head out the crack of the door. Jack stood, gorgeous and smiling and holding a folded pair of trousers. He also had one of those sanitary belts the rich girls wore. 

“Miss Medda gave me this thing.” Jack held it up, looking adorably confused. “I, uh, I told her Smalls needed some stuff back at the lodging house, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Thanks.” David whispered, unable to muster up much joy with his thoughts spiraling in such a way.

Right before he could close the door, Jack caught it. He looked hesitant, a furrow between his brows. Hesitance was not a look David often saw on the fearless Jack Kelly. “Can I come in? Once you’re dressed? Just wanna… gotta make sure you’re okay.”

He felt himself softening into a puddle of lovesick goop at the sight of Jack’s face, hopeful and sweet and uncharacteristically childlike. “Okay. Gimme a minute.”

Once he was sufficiently clean and covered, wearing the sanitary belt beneath his clothes with one of his father’s leather belts holding the too-baggy trousers ‘round his waist, David sunk to the floor once more and dropped his exhausted forehead against his knees. Silence. This was not how he’d expected his day to go. He beckoned Jack in and soon found himself sitting opposite the other boy, fixed with a look of concerned care. Their legs tangled together and Jack wrapped one warm hand around David’s ankle, searching his expression as if looking for something. Maybe finding his words. His hand glided up and down, skin pushing at the dark hairs there.

Eventually Jack settled on something. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No.” He looked down at his lap. “I thought you’d hate me. My family barely tolerates me, as it is… even Sarah doesn’t support this, and I’d been hoping that she’d be my person through it all. She thinks it’s some sort of abandonment, I think. Like I’m trying to be a man to get away from being a woman– like, to get the right to vote or own property or something– but that isn’t it at all. It’s just– people not wanting this version of me is all I’ve ever known. Les is the only one who’s kind about it. Him and Racetrack.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he pouted almost comically. “Wh– Racer found out before me?”

“Sure.” David couldn’t help his own teasing smile. “Remember back in August when we nearly got mugged in Brooklyn? We had to run back and I did my bandages too tight.”

“Bandages?”

Jack wasn’t attracted to him in any way whatsoever so David had no problem unbuttoning his own shirt and lifting his undershirt to show Jack the careful wrappings that kept his chest flat. He wanted to laugh at Jack’s awestruck impression, cheeks darkening beneath his tan and eyes wide. He was probably shocked by the idea that David had been selling papers for hours every single day in such restraints. 

“Keeps my chest flat.” David explained simply, smoothing his undershirt back down over his stomach. 

Jack swallowed hard. “Yep.”

“But sometimes I tie them too tight,” He continued, unable to stop blabbering around Jack. It was a bad habit, but Jack made him feel comfortable and listened to, which was a rare occurrence, so David had gotten into the routine of yammering endlessly whenever Jack was willing to listen. “Which is what I did that day. I was panicked and overheated and I just convinced myself I couldn’t breathe, even though I probably could’ve if I was calm. Race was great about it. He’s been great since then, of course. He’s always checking up on me. The other day–”

“I would never hate you.” Jack cut him off very suddenly and very intensely, his hand flexing where it still sat, now cupping the back of David’s calf, beneath his pant leg. “You’re… I dunno how, but you’ve become the person I go to for everything. I can’t lose that. Can’t lose you, I mean, Davey-mine.”

Struck by the sudden sincerity, David felt his chest flutter happily beneath the praise. He felt stupid and stripped of his words. “Oh. I… um… yes, I feel the same way, Jackie.”

Jack nodded, glancing over David’s posture. The way he was holding his cramping lower stomach, tight with pain, was probably obvious. But he didn’t care. Jack had seen enough already. And somehow, with an artist’s observational eye and a lover’s gentle attentiveness, Jack knew just what to do and slid his hand up to Davey’s knee. “What’s gonna make you feel less sick? Water? Smalls likes to bundle up and lay in bed, and I know Kath’s always craving salty food…”

“Honestly, um…” He glanced up at Jack, who was leaning in like he actually cared what David would say. David had already made one idiotic decision, and it had ended surprisingly well. He settled on a second one after careful deliberation, and cleared his throat. “I… can you play with my hair?”

A tiny smile took over Jack’s features. “‘Course I can. C’mere.”

Jack’s hands molded him like some sort of sculpture, guiding him to lay with his head pillowed upon Jack’s lap. David’s insides were screaming giddily as he relished in the coolness of the bathroom tile, Jack’s muscles firm and cotton-covered beneath him. Then those hands weaved their way into his hair and gently scraped against his scalp, and David was weak. Done for. Absolutely head over ass in love. 

It was easy to pretend, laying on that bathroom floor with Jack’s hands in his hair and his brown eyes carefully scanning over David’s face. It was easy to convince himself that maybe Jack loved as deeply as he did. To pretend that this would become a regular occurrence, that this was a lifetime in which he was Jack’s and Jack was his, and they weren’t lying on the water closet floor in a theater, but instead on a couch in an apartment of their own. In that world, David was comfortable and happy and his parents and Sarah loved him for it, and Jack loved him even harder. In that perfect, wonderful world, he got to be with Jack every morning. He had devotion and love and loneliness was a distant, unrecognizable beast.

This, though? It was halfway there. David was sure it was as close to heaven as he’d get in his lifetime, and he savored every second.

[reddeadsredhead]

Headcanon(s) for Sean (Or the Van der Linde gang) during snow days/winter? (Do you think any of these outlaws would do anything for Christmas?)

D'aww! Okay:

Arthur, Sean and John have a good old-fashioned snowball fight during the winter, when things were more certain, maybe before the birth or conception of Jack. They were like brothers, and Sean was determined in building his little snow fort as high and secure as possible, trying to outdo the others in terms of snow-fortitude and majesty. He was probably one of the newest additions to the gang at the time, but learned to bond with these two quickly. Maybe 18 or 19, he was at the age where certain jokes were the most funny to him and would make some immature shapes on his fort xD

John: "wait, are those di-"

Sean: *pops out from behind to hurl a snowball directly in John's face* "Hahahaha! Gotcha, shithead!"

Sean learns the art of distraction! A very helpful tool that Hosea taught him well! Although Sean's methods are a bit different xD

And of course, the snowball fight starts because Sean was trying to throw a snowball at Pearson for not cooking the food fast enough and hits John instead xD we need more Sean and John brotherly interactions. The three of them shit talk each other, but they're laughing and squealing all the while. And I like to think Hosea and Dutch both join in on the fun, soon half the gang is having a blast playing in the snow while the other half is busy with work. Maybe they play in teams. Mac and Davey on the same team of course! They could play in duos, or as a two-team fight! Maybe it becomes a tradition, they make their own rules and it becomes almost like a sport.

Another headcanon: Sean is found passed out freezing in the snow one night, and big bro Arthur picks him up and takes him back to camp, wrapping his coat around him. I think it's the first time Arthur is genuinely scared for him and realizes he cares a great deal for the little weasel (but will never admit it outright.) He and Hosea take him in and warm him by the fire, get him some warm stew when he wakes up and generally keep him company. Can just imagine Hosea going "He's like a son to me Arthur." Sean seems to be worse for wear for a while but the gang is relieved when he starts cracking jokes again.

Everyone gravitates towards the fire during these winter months. I imagine one quiet night by the fire is when Sean starts to sing. He's a bit drunk, and normally self-conscious about his singing, but the booze and the cold of winter, along with everyone by the fire brings it out of him. The gang are genuinely surprised Sean has such a strong and sweet singing voice, and though it has the characteristic roughness of his speaking voice, it simply adds to the charm. He sings a little winter song that just feels right. Sean hadn't felt true community like this since he was back in Ireland with his Da's old gang, and it's very bittersweet. Maybe he starts to cry, and the gang doesn't really know why. But Sean singing brings the group together, and soon they all join in song as the snow falls on a dark winter night.

I know Secret Santa wasn't really a thing back in the lateteen hundreds or whatever but I like to imagine it was and the gang exchange gifts. It's usually small things, maybe little trinkets people were able to rob, or something crocheted or hand-sewn, based on people's skill and experiences. Dutch is the Santa, of course, so he decides who gives who presents. He thinks it would be nice if Arthur gets to give Sean a gift one year, and Arthur has no idea what to gift the little bastard, what he enjoys. He could certainly use some new clothes, but he comes to think there's nothing Sean would appreciate more than some quality time, as much as it annoys him, so the two go out fishing together (and Sean for once blows Arthur out of the water with his skills because what Arthur doesn't realize is that Sean and Darragh would go fishing all the time back in Ireland. He's genuinely shocked)

Either that or Arthur makes a sketch of Sean to give to him :) OR maybe a sketch of the both of them! and maybe that brotherly hug he asks for in The First Shall Be Last.

Thanks so much for the ask!

[last-in-line-for-the-tub-tonight]

Intro!

Heya, I’m Buttons :)

He/Him

Pansexual

I’m from Lower Manhattan

15

I love crafts and sewing

Official trinket collector

I like animals of all kind, especially cats :)

I’d like to think I’m kind, soft, and caring

I know ASL

Dating Elmer :) @one-for-all-and-all-for-one

(This is a modern rp account)

Other people included in this rp:

Elmer: @one-for-all-and-all-for-one

Race: @mr-erster-carona

Jack: @go-west-young-man

Albert: @youll-steal-anudda

Finch: @slingshot-man

Henry: @pastramie-n-rye

Davey: @most-auspicious-manner

Les: @table-the-palaver

Spot: @king-a-brooklyn

Elmer: @one-for-all-and-all-for-one

Romeo: @where-for-art-thou

Crutchie:

@a-smilethatspreadslikebutt3r

Smalls: @sos-the-bronx

Tommy Boy: @stillgot-myshirt-on

Specs: @hey-look-its-bathtime-at-the-zoo

Jojo: @you-already-live-on-the-street

Kath: @kathrineppulitzer

Darcy: @my-father-runs-the-trib

Sarah: @think-about-seizing-the-day

Send me asks!! I’m always open for chatting :)

If you’d like to join the rp, dm @mr-erster-carona !

[cryingpariah]

There's a New World festival held in the beginning of the year meant to honor a legendary warrior known for her wisdom and unmatched strategical skills. Nobody can seem to agree if she was a pirate, a marine, or a gladiator from a country like Dresrossa.

But regardless of her origin, the festival is a time of great fanfare. The hosting island, which differs every year, is crowded with tents of all colors of the rainbow. Traders set up shops and stalls carrying everything from rare gemstones to delicacies like sea king burgers to hunting bugles to open-toed sandals to weapons of every shape and size and sometimes even a Devil Fruit or two. Celebrities and musicians have been known to show up (Soul King played the last one on his world tour), and the sounds of pirate fights can be heard throughout the day. This is a rather chaotic day after all.

The centerpiece is the athletic tournament where representatives from whichever kingdoms choose to participate compete in a scramble for a solid gold owl egg in effigy of the legendary warrior's patron bird. Whoever remains standing with the egg at the end of each round then has to compete in an intellectual challenge to test their wits.

A celebration of both the body and the mind. That is the spirit of the Superb Owl Festival.

It's also a prime time to make off with some unguarded riches and rare loot, so you bet your ass Buggy's all over that. Family trip time!

Buggy's plan was simple: sneak into the festival, steal all their trinkets and doo-dads, maybe take a break for lunch/movie montage of trying on festival-exclusive merch, and slip away undetected! It was foolproof! Or it would be if the boys hadn’t flown off the second they touched port or if Mihawk hadn’t decided that now was the perfect time for his weekly zombie nap! At least Crocodile had his ass in gear, his eyes on the prize, his mind solely focused on their stealth mission-!

“I’m busy with fixing your latest business snafu Clown. If you wanna rob these people blind you’re on your own.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing! His own family, his flesh and blood, don’t want to be a part of Buggy's 6! It was gonna be way better than those other ones too! Way more practical effects and less tropey movie magic! Well fine then, be that way! They’d all be flocking to him when he made off with millions!

The plan was going perfectly, just how it was inked! Sure there were some close calls almost getting caught by competitors and local law enforcement but nothing a star clown like him couldn’t handle! He was about to make off like the most jovial thief when he slipped and stumbled down a conveniently opened mystery hatch. He fell and bumped around until he found himself standing before a caged entrance and he felt the whispers of the crowd and a faint wind behind him.

“Oh Davey Damnit! I was so close! What kind of island just leaves giant hatches for the world to fall into? I tell ya…”

Buggy turned around and was quickly struck by the realization that the wind behind him was no crack in the wall but a giant ravenous boar and its giant body was blocking his exit. He quickly put on his best showman smile and gently patted the beast's snoot.

“Hehe. Here good boar, I’m not hear to hurt anybody, especially not you sweetums! How about you let me through and we both forget this ever happen! Good deal, right?”

Apparently not. Thankfully the heavens were taking mercy on him as the gate opened and allow him to begin the Buggy Pirates secret technique: getting the hell outta here!

“Down to our final two competitors and it’s time to turn up the heat with the Superb Owl's ultimate test of will: The Baron Boar! …and a clown? Haha, leave it to our lady to keep us on our toes!”

The rest of this particularly harrowing tale was locked tightly away in the emperor's memory vault but he does remember running and screaming. Later the boys excitedly that they had seen him on the Mushi Monitor and how cool he looked dodging the boar while Crocodile chuckled while silently mourning this new hit to the Cross Guild's reputation! Hilariously, the media (and therefore the world) say Buggy's actions as defiance to the heavens which only tacked on more money to his ever growing bounty.

He did say he was gonna make millions, right?

[the-golden-comet]

✨🏴‍☠️Find The Word Tag 🏴‍☠️✨

Thank you for the tag here, @indecentpause !

My Words: heat, chill, hurt, and heal

Your Words: cold, shiver, stream, and drop

Back to search the High Seas in Peter Hart:

Heat

The prince shot Davey a wicked glare, but resided in his feelings of contempt as he paddled to the solid surface. Rejoining the captain and the crew, they brushed their hands over their slick breeches to shed some water weight. Benjamin, who was shivering from the dank cold of the dripping ocean cavern, ran his palms over his forearms to get some heat and friction to his sea-steeped skin.

Chill

A chill swept over their spines as Davey shook his head. “Oooooohh…..I don’t like the sounds of this, m’boy. We better take what we can and get out….”

Hurt

Peter scratched his chin as he contemplated. ‘An engagement ball, huh?’ He schemed through a smarmy smile. ‘That means that they’ll be loaded. And busy with guests….’ Much like his father, Peter was a daredevil at heart. Though it probably was a bad idea, he thought it wouldn’t hurt the royal family if a few priceless heirlooms went missing. What was the harm in a handful of lost trinkets, anyway?

Heal

Benjamin closed his eyes, hanging his head again as he let the pirates haul him away from land once more, accepting his punishment as his heavy heart sank in his chest. The amulet’s glow gently flickered and dimmed, but stayed softly illuminating Benji’s delicate, tired face inside the napsack. Indeed, it would take his heart a long time to heal from this betrayal of trust….for now, he was just thankful for the benevolence of his captors.

I will gently tag (no pressure): @thecomfywriter , @gioiaalbanoart , @marlowethelibrarian , @just-emis-blog , @pluppsauthor , @illarian-rambling , @cybercelestian , @fantasy-things-and-such , @paeliae-occasionally , @agirlandherquill , @michellekarnold , @flurrysahin , @differentnighttale , @authorcoledipalo , @somethingclevermahogony , @mundanemoongirl , @obviousknife , @yourpenpaldee , @wyked-ao3 , @clevah-girlboss , @aintgonnatakethis , @theaistired , @mysticstarlightduck , @ominous-feychild , @nebula--nix , @finickyfelix , @moltenwrites , @tildeathiwillwrite , @leatafandom , @thebearthatreads , @alinacapellabooks , @saturnine-saturneight , @lychhiker-writes , @rotting-moon-writes , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @katenewmanwrites , +open tag! 🏴‍☠️💛✨

[diskaywrites]

Fluffvember 2024

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟐𝟕: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐲 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬

.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽

It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but when Eddie Edwards had seen the small metallic pin amongst the offerings of the small flea market booth, it had reminded him of only one person. The silver had shone with just the right light to set it apart from everything else, like the man in question had made the last few months just a little brighter. Maybe it was dark, all things considered, but what part of the relationship with Sami Callihan wasn't at least a little dark.

The steak that Eddie had invited Sami out for that night wasn't the best, but the dark little steakhouse was comfortable. Low light and a warm ambiance brough out a nice date night quality. Not that Eddie would admit this was a date. It hadn't been too long since the loss of his husband and he refused to believe he would ever move on. Callihan chewed a piece of steak as Eddie reached into his pocket, producing the small box he had placed the pin in. "Woah, Ed, it's a little too early for this."

Eddie rolled his eyes as he shoved the box across the table, "Shut the fuck up, Callihan. This made me think of you is all."

Callihan raised an eyebrow as he pried the black box open, a smirk tugging at the corner of his pierced lip. The pin was that of two barbed-wire baseball bats crossed together to create an X. Sami laughed, removing the pin from the box, then removing his baseball cap and pinning the newfound trinket to his hat. "This is fuck up, ya know, Ed?"

"Reminded me of you," Eddie laughed back, "that bat that almost took my eye...it's what led me to this point in life."

Callihan's eyes searched Eddie's leaning back against his chair, "Would ya change it if ya could? The attack? The pain?"

Eddie leaned back in his own chair, considering the question. Would he change it? If it all came down to it, there were aspects he'd change, sure. Davey would still be here. His daughter wouldn't have lost her mind and turned out to be a monster. And yet, without that attack, he wouldn't have the two boys from the UK that he called his sons or the nice little career that he had been able to carve out for himself. "Changed my life. Some of its good. Some of its real fuckin' shitty. But would I change it? Nah, nah. I don't think so. How about you?"

It was Sami's turn to be lost in thought as he pushed the fork around his plate. His hazel eyes wouldn't meet Eddie's own brown, and he wondered for a moment if he had shut the other completely down. Sami regarded a piece of meat for a moment, popping it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "Nah. If I hadn't been such a hard ass with you, we wouldn't be here together, huh? And if I wasn't such a hard ass to you, I wouldn't have this sick pin."

[jack-kellys]

I used the AU generator and got the absolutely ridiculous combination of grocery store AU and ancient Greece AU so uh...have fun I guess?

send me theeeese

well i think the only answer is making a god for each aisle. right. or if we’re really into it we align 7 “food groups”/usual supermarket aisle contents with each of the seven deadly sins or something like…. envy might be organic/protein powders like that stuff. but idk i’m not doing that

local street market au. jack works at a small produce farm outside NYC and brings the farm’s goods to the city for the market each weekend. (i think each of the older newsies own a little stand or small business). but not only does jack sell produce, he kind of embodies it?

the freshness, the way he shines in the sun, he’s fruitful and juicy with stories and personality and he is also… a deity. of produce.

racer is a deity of nostalgia and owns a small vintage and thrift store. crutchie is a deity of solar energy since all his homemade trinkets are powered via sunlight. katherine is a deity of ink and specializes in antique pens and writing utensils. etcetera.

but jack, as davey would discover if i wrote this for real, tastes like juice dribbling down his chin in the summertime, and he can’t get enough of the man who can make any fruit ripe and conjure carrots from the dirt.

[idiotwithanipad]

First impressions are important

Just a short fic about how William was murdered and met Rogh

(TW: Murder, Dagger, Blood)

"You brought it? The agreed amount?" The Lord said quietly, leaning over the polished oak table towards the portly captain. 

"Indeed I have. I didn't have to slit any throats this time, quite the jolly-up, actually. I located it off the coast of-"

"Yes, yes, that's all very grand. Show it to me" The Lord was in no mood for stories and tales, he'd expected the treasure, not a life story. 

"Well, a finger or two might have been hoisted off when I retrieved it" The captain erupted into a small series of giggles as he brought up a small wooden box strapped shut with rope. The Lord's sharp eyes seemed to be tied tighter to the box than the ropes binding it. The captain plucked a dagger from his belt and cut through the ropes. 

"Open it" The Lord muttered, his patience seemingly running thin. The captain pulled the chest's lid back, revealing dabloons, pearl jewelry and goblets encrusted with precious stones. The Lord eyed the bounty strongly and tugged up, between his thumb and fingers, a pearl necklace. He inspected the trinket closely as though it were the most prized possession he owned. 

"Aye, T'is quite a handsome load. I were almost tempted to keep back that there goblet for me ale" The captain chimed, his eyes fixed on the golden goblet with emerald emblems. The Lord's fist tightened around the pearls before he slowly lowered it into his jacket pocket, dropping them in slowly, savouring the feeling of the smooth stones slipping between his calloused, money counting fingers. 

"Indeed" The Lord fixed his eyes on the heavyset captain and sauntered his way around from his side of the table toward the captain. 

"The reward for a bounty of this size may even be enough for me to finally afford tobacco" The captain chuckled, his eyes remaining on the box of valuables. 

The Lord stood before him, not smiling, not even breathing. 

A sharp pain sank into the captain's thorax. His hands came up to grip onto the Lord's shoulders to steady himself as he staggered backward. 

"The butlers inform me that word of your immeasurable talent in locating items like this is begining to spread through the county. Can't have you offering your expertise elsewhere, can I?" The dark words dribbled from the Lord's lips like hot lava. The captain gasped and coughed as his hands gripped onto the Lord's wrist, already too weak to counterattack. A dagger had been stabbed deeply into his flesh and muscle. 

"Davey Jones. Take pity on me mortal flesh..." The captain had no other words, which would've came as a shock to his crew; he was usually a man of many words and tales, but he was now reduced to a man of laboured breaths and wide eyed glances down at the deeply imbedded weapon still held tightly in the Lord's grip. 

The Lord's hand twisted the dagger and jerked upwards as the captain lurched forward onto his knees, spitting blood and hacking. 

The room was black. No sound echoed in the captain's ears as he slowly regained consciousness; maybe Davey Jones HAD taken pity upon him? Perhaps this could just be another battle scar to bost about to the crew? 

A sudden muffled sound roused him. A slight, fluttering murmur. It seemed to be right above him, or rather to his left. He opened his eyes, peering over to the source of the noise, only for his eyes to bolt wide open. 

A strange creature, vaguely shaped like a man, squatted at his side, it sniffed and prodded at the handle of the dagger which remained sheathed in his chest. It was unlike any man, or creature, the captain had ever seen before, even amongst his many voyages and travels to places uncharted. It leaned on its knuckles and wore what seemed to be pelts and leather, crudely attached to one another and piled underneath and atop furs of different colours, textures and thickness. 

It didn't seem to take heed of the captain's awakening and continued to examine the weapon, sniffing at it, trying to determine what exactly it was and why it was rammed into the new man's chest. 

"Ey?! What in Mary's na- what the BLAZES?!" The captain recoiled and scooted back away from the strange creature, who also tumbled back on it's furred heels, it's eyes looked onto the captain's. A look of foreign alarm and burning curiosity shone in it's eyes. It's mouth hung open in a soundless gasp and it's knuckles stroked against it's furs.

"What art thou? Be this the Locker?" The captain rose to his feet, gripping onto the edge of a bookshelf, his eyes scanned the room and the recent memory of the days precedings flashed in his mind. 

"No. T-t'is the same house. The library. The house of the Lord who pays me for treasure. The dog plunged me" There was a whisper of hurt and betrayal behind the captain's words, his eyes settling down on the handle of the dagger sticking out from between his ribs. 

The man-creature looked between the captain's face and the dagger. It's face frozen in that same awestruck and mildly intimidated expression. It grumbled quietly and pointed it's..hand? Whatever it was, it was pelted also, wrapped tightly in furs and badly sliced leather straps. The appendage aimed down towards the rug beneath their feet. 

The captain's body remained on the floor, the dagger in the same place it was when the filthy, cheating Lord ended the captain's life. 

The captain's eyes settled on his own body, lifeless and still. 

"... Well. It seems as though, t'is sails down for captain William..." 

The creature's eyes darted back up to William's. It's head tilted slightly and it's mouth twitched and contorted, it's bearded jaw rolled and dropped. 

"You look like no man I've seen before. Thou art clothed in animal hyde, thou hasn't introduced thyself" William said, his previous shock of the creature slowly melting away. 

The creature's hand rose slightly to point toward itself, it's single digit slightly curved and twitched. 

"You? Yes, you. Does thou hath a name to call thyself?" William felt as though he had just discovered a new species, and finding out more about it filled the captain with a sense of wonder and excitement, similar to when he saw his first constellation as a boy. 

"Me, William, you?..." William gestured towards himself, being careful not to nudge the dagger deeper with his hand as it came up to pat against his chest. 

The creature's mouth closed briefly, it's tongue peeking out to lick at it's bottom lip. Perhaps it didn't have a name? Perhaps it didn't speak? 

".. Rogh"

[collateral-joy]

[we-are-inevitable]

Infodump about the frat au. Literally everything I’ve never come across you before. Pretty please and than you <3

i feel like i’ve shared so so much about this world but here are some fun things that aren’t important to the actual story but that i love!!:

technically davey is the middle sibling. he was born 12 minutes after sarah and she never lets him forget it! (oddly enough, the number 12 shows up a lot in his life. he thinks it’s a fun little reminder. he considers it his lucky number because it always makes him think of sarah, and sarah always makes him feel better.)

jack speaks fluent spanish because he’s half mexican, and davey speaks fluent spanish because it’s one of the 5 languages he knows outside of english! (he’s only fluent in 2 of the 5, but he’s passable in the other 3 and can have conversations with minimal struggle)

charlie is a HUGE sports nut. he’s really into hockey and plays sled hockey recreationally! he’s really competitive and brutal about it. in the fic, he has multiple sclerosis and primarily uses forearm crutches, but he has a black and green wheelchair kitted out in stickers, patches, and pins that he uses at least three times a weak.

charlie, albert, and jack all watch hockey games together and try to go to at least two games a season once they get closer.

davey loves live music but it can be a lot for him sometimes— he tends to stay in the back and uses noise canceling earbuds, but loves people watching and loves the atmosphere. gay bars don’t bother him as much because the noise level- albeit loud- is less so, but he always carries his ear buds on him. he keeps them on a carabiner clipped to his belt or crossbody like the fag he is.

(jack doesn’t think he’s allowed to say “fag.” davey assures him he is. jack has issues and he’s working through them.)

davey works at a public library close to campus, and spends most of his time with youth and teen programming. (he loves his job.) jack works in the fraternity and sorority affairs office as a student leader; he talks to current high schoolers about joining greek life. (he hates his job.)

davey likes horror movies and jack doesn’t like horror movies but he likes being able to hold davey’s hand through it.

jack drives an jeep cherokee from the early 2000s. medda helped him get it when he decided to go to college outside of the city, bc public transportation isn’t as easily accessible. jack got his license at 18 and thinks it’s stupid that he has to drive places now but he really likes his shitty little car. her name is Rory like the gilmore girls character but he swears there’s no relation

on campus, jack usually skateboards, and davey rides his bike everywhere. davey’s car is a little 2014 corolla named Miss Priss and she’s decked out in bumper stickers and trinkets inside.

race and albert have been together since high school. they SHOULD never have time for each other but they somehow never leave each other’s side. it’s kind of disgusting actually.

race starts learning how to do drag about a month before he meets jack!

katherine and spot work as waitresses at the same restaurant. they should not get along. they are best friends.

[livesincerely]

🥀 Ask game :)

🥀 favorite angst quote from a published work

“Oh, yeah?” Jack bites out, not believing this for a second. “If you missed me so fucking much, then why’d we break up?”

“Because you were moving to Santa Fe!” Davey yells back. “You were leaving, Jackie! What else was I supposed to do, except let you go and try my best to be happy for you?”

Jackie. It sounds different coming out of Davey’s mouth. Something prickles at Jack’s eyes, and the threat of tears almost makes him angrier.

0000

This is from trinkets (and also kinda from its sister fic keepsakes.) Trinkets is the Jack pov version of this fic, and Jack always tends to get my most poetic descriptions. Him not being able to stand hearing Davey call him Jackie because he’s still heartbroken over him was one of my better ideas.

[daveyfvckingjacobs]

Davey throwing the newsies birthday celebrations

Jojo draging finch into trouble.

Blink comforting skittery

oh my godddd davey with their bdays

in modern he gets them cakes with big candles, brings streamers and banners to the home to decorate, makes sure there’s good wrapping paper with little bows and ribbons, makes playlists for parties tailored to each of them. all little things to make their birthdays so special that they’re not accustomed to. in canon it’s little bday cupcakes, hand made bunting around the lodgings, confetti to drop on their heads, trinkets he makes or finds or bargains for, a good meal because they deserve to enjoy themselves

[ey-theys-was-coronas]

Romeo - tries to hit on all of the girls. Fails miserably.

Buttons - Finds tons of trinkets that he keeps, such as seashells or sea glass.

JoJo and Elmer - Determined to dig a hole all the way to China. Even after they recruit Les, Finch, and Race, they give up after about an hour. Davey ends up rubbing it in their faces because he told them that they wouldn’t be able to do it.

Specs - Gets his glasses taken away every 15 seconds, plots to put sand in the hats of anybody who stole them.

Newsies Beach Headcanons 🏝️☀️

I've been hoarding this draft since the summer and I need to get rid of it…

Jack - Makes the most elaberate sand castles / sculptures. He takes it too seriously and is very sad when they have to stomp it down at the end of the day. He also likes swimming in the ocean.

Crutchie - He brings a chair up to the oceans edge and parks himself there for the day. He finds the waves relaxing, Jack and Race splash water at him when they can.

Racetrack - He’s all over the place, he jumps from beach activity to beach activity and he makes friends with strangers . He also has a super soaker that he abuses. He tells everyone that he doesn’t need sunblock because he just tans. Nobody believes him until he’s five shades darker by the end of the day (Sicilian genes.)

David - Sits under the umbrella with a book. And is shot with water by Race.

Katherine - Sits under the sun with a book. And is shot with water by Race.

Spot - He lays on a towel in the sun with sunglasses on and nobody can tell if he’s asleep or not and they’re too scared to check. Until Race shoots him with his water gun and subsequently Spot drowns him in the ocean.

Les - He challenges Jack to a sand castle building contest and subsequently looses every time. He loves kidnapping sand diggers and whatever little creatures he can find and carrying them around in a bucket. He once grabbed a horseshoe grab by its tail and carried it out on the ocean. He dropped it in David’s lap who subsequently freaked the fuck out.

Albert - He COOKS in the sun. He laughs at Race for not wearing sunblock but at the end of the day he looks like a lobster even after reapplying multible times. Race clowns on him hard.

Medda - She’s the hot mom in the pink bikini enough said.

Finch - He bird watches and is also the reason seagulls try to steal food from people. He will literally give them his whole lunch.

[seekdevotion]

*          𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒     𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃          :          mw  types  of  characters?

oh,  baby  we  welcome  all  sorts  !  to  be  helpful  though i'd  like  to  redirect  to  admin emms's  lovely  ideas  here  + the wcs we have open over here but  also  to  add  some  of  my  own:  

literally  any oc of yours  you  love — from  your  most  whimsical and outgoing  characters,  to  your  introverts who are perhaps just as whimsical or alternatively too steely,  to  the  curious  and  nosy,  to  the  antagonistic  and  esp  to  the  most  absurd,  we'll  have  a  ball  anyway!

would  love  love  love  for  more  spots  available  in  our  listings and bits of lore within  to  be  utilized  in  char  creations  as  we  may  have  fun  lil  activities  to  tie  with  each  location  to  post  as  mini  plot  drops  soon.  like  i  would  die  for  an  empire  records  type  vibe  at  flagship  records  or  even  comet  videos.  (when  duncan  isn't  busy  running  the  bowl  like  the  navy,  they're  busy  running  comet  like  the  navy!) and it could be for anything! e.g davey wavey? bring their siren ex partner who mans the food truck that they share custody of after the break up! the  bowl?  needs  its  last  employee!  do  they  have  to  be  a  ghost?  no  but  i'd  love  it  esp  if  they're  related  to  the  owner  who  passed  it  onto  them  and  now theyre  out  here  beefing with  the  local  arcade out of the same establishment while dually hosting karaoke nites and a nice lil partie every third week of the month!  a  strange  establishment  that  needs  the  strange  management  it  deserves! the  faithfulls? bring the horde of faithfull kids running about in town or even their parents! + as  briefly  mentioned  but  in  mind,  they're  a  family  consisting  of  an  retired  priest  ass  over  titties  in  love  with  their  gorgeous  nymph  partner  and  their  possibly  3  children  who  now  own  and  manage  the  diner  +  gas  station. if not keen, just bring anybody with your own personal take on their ties in town! it goes on and on but it's a seemingly small town and we expect many of the chars to be entwined one way or another. of course you'd have to mind present chars with already established relations to mentioned npcs but that only makes way for delicious plotting opportunities!

more  faeries;  those  newly  coming  through  devo  from  their  realm,  those  who  have  stayed  for  longer  and  know  everyone  in  town,  those  who  left  devo  to  go  back  home  and  came  back  years  n  years  later  with  all  the  people  they  once  knew  dead  and  gone  (or  not  quite),  those  who  cannot  go  back  home,  etc.

nymphs  in  general,  i  would  welcome  v  greatly  from  younger  nymphs  to  their  elders, nymphs who collect prophecies like trinkets or keep a record of them like the most elusive time capsule you've ever seen - annotated! - that reads more like a dream journal until things get slightly too literal or personally fugartive and then it's shit and fuck, nymphs who set out to make those happen on their own or reject said prophecies entirely and risk upsetting their elders, nymphs who barely have left their grounds, etc.

mediums  &  ghost  consultants  who  not  only  consult  with  ghosts  or  relatives  of  ghosts  but  intervene  when  they  become  malevolent  and  offer  banishing  services.

characters  interested  in  exploring  the  forests  as  best  as  they  could  and  perhaps  wish  to  craft  sufficient  maps  of  the  area  while  looking  for  the  ones  already  made  (and  even  hidden)  of  town.  i  imagine  them  to  be  working  at  shrike  point  light  for  the  access  of  info  they'd  need  for  this  but  could  be  a  group  effort!

visitors  who  found  themselves  in  this  surrealist  side  of  the  country....  did  the  town and its funky little locals  already  lull  them  into  a  sense  of  belonging  or  are  they  perpetually eyeing the exit sign that kind of gets farther the more they recall images of it in their heads or are they just tourist passing through and having an absolute ball of a time?  are they overwhelmed by the energies coursing around in devo or is it just a  silly  town  that's  weirdly  big  on  parties  every  now  and  then?  did  they  find  their way into devo  incidentally or through yelp for the neat little spots  or  by  word of mouth from the locals and  were  surprised  to  learn  just  how  literal  certain  things  seem  to  be  /  "the  faery  of  a  girl  with  a  yipping  rabbit  is,  in  fact,  an  actual  faery,  accompanying  an  actual  guy  in  a  rabbit  suit  giving  uwu  frank  of  donnie  darko  who  won't  shut  the  fuck  u-"

and much more! these  are  just  ideas  you  could  perhaps  riff  off  of  and  see  what  works  but  really  get  creative  if  you  have  the  muse  +  feel  free  to  message  us  if  you'd  like  more  info  or  any  help  with  ideas  or  insight  in  certain  areas  x