#im in a newsies mood today

[slushfaerie]

holding space for ben cook's race's "heeeeere theeeeyy coooooooome" today

[kid-blinks-eyepatch]

chat im gonna cry i have to deal with 8 eighth grade clarinets tonight at the football game

and one of the other 8th graders plays bass clarinet and IM SO FUCKING PISSED BECAUSE

i asked our band director in 7th if i could switch feom clarinet to bass clarinet

he said later in the year

never followed up

i asked him when j was in 8th and he said no b/c he had too many at the high school (he had 2 and one was a senior)

THAT SAME FUCKING YEAR HE LETS A 7TH GRADER PLAY BASS CLARINET

and so i have to deal with that kid

[ghostprinceiii]

Crying in the club? No. Crying in fashion class.

[watch-me-deactivate-blog]

of course!!

[carryingthebanner]

NEWSIES (almost) CLOSING SHOW THOUGHTS pt.1

I am once again watching my comfort musical and recording my unsolicited thoughts on it.

Act 1

THE APPLAUSE

I’m already getting a lump in my throat and I’m not even 5 seconds in

How do you even cope backstage with all of that support??? I would be a sobbing, snotty nosed mess-

Not me smiling and getting chills at a black screen

Ok maybe I just don’t listen to the Overture enough but it seems faster then usual?

I literally have no clue what Jack is saying

OMG ITS ANDY AS CRUTCHIE AHHHH I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THIS FOR SUCH A LONG TIME

Crutchie really just saw his life flash before his eyes 💀

Jack and Crutchie really do have the best friendship ughh *cries*

They’re so cute I can’t

*Sings* Back to blackkk

Ok wow this harmony >>>

Y’ALL ANDY’S SINGING IS BEAUTIFUL I’M SO UPSET I WONT BE HEARING LETTER FROM THE REFUGE IN THIS

Words cannot express how in love I am with Jack and Crutchie singing Santa Fe (Prologue) together

It’s been 15 minutes and I’m still replaying this specific part someone help

TIS MUSIC TO MY EARS

(Welcome to yet another musical where I just want to stop at a happy moment and not continue the rest of the it because I’m honestly not in the best of moods today and I don’t wanna see my comfort character get beaten within inches of his life)

Finally prying my fingers away from the rewind button :( the show must go on I guess

JACK IS LITERALLY SCREAMING FOR THE NEWSBOYS TO GET UP I CANTT 💀

IS THAT AARON ALBANO?!

This is probably the rowdiest I’ve seen them act

Wait does Jack have Race’s cigar?

KATHERINE MY BELOVED

ROMEO AND JACK IM CACKLING

Small detail: Crutchie grabbing his leg to determine the weather

“I don’t need the limp to sell papes, I got personality” SLIGHTLY SASSY CRUTCHIE SUPREMACY

He definitely has a smile that spreads like butter

OK FOR A QUICK SECOND IT LOOKED LIKE CRUTCHIE WAS READY TO THROW SOME HANDS

ANDY H O W DID YOU JUST MOVE ACROSS THE STAGE THAT FAST THERE IS NO WAY-

This is very chaotic but what else did I expect from a bunch of newsboys

Andy moves by basically bouncing around the stage and my eyes can’t keep up

CHAOTIC

The immense love I have for this choreography <3

I always live for the interaction between Elmer and the Nun

unpleasant AROMA

MY HAND JUST FLEW OVER MY MOUTH THE WAY HE PUSHED CRUTCHIE-

Jack is very protective of Crutchie. He’s practically screaming at Morris right now

Noted: Corey’s Jack does a lot of yelling

I’m pretty sure the choreographer kinda let them do whatever they wanted for Carrying The Banner and it shows. They’re really going all out with the choreo and I LOVE IT.

The audience is a bunch of feral fansies, I can tell (because it takes one to know one and yes this is a call out)

“Howz it going weeeZULL”

*inhales* CRUTCHIE MY BELOVED

LES IS JUST A BABY OMG

Woah ok we got a lot of Jacobs family stans in the audience!!

It’s kinda unsettling how Morris is just suspiciously looking down at Davey from one of the towers

I’ve been in this fandom for close to a year and I still don’t know what “can’t count to 20 with his shoes on” means (can someone explain lol)

THE ACTOR PLAYING LES IS GETTING ALL THE APPLAUSE AND I JUST KNOW THAT LES WOULD’VE LOVED ALL OF THIS ATTENTION

Whenever I see a Newsie on Pulitzer’s desk my mind just goes to “Pulitzer may own the World but he don’t own us!” so yes, stand on his furniture all you want to boys

“HE’S A COMMIE!”

Nunzio’s heart rate: 📈

Pulitzer is one of those people who treats everybody else like they’re dumb and until they finally get it

“They’ll be learning a real life lesson in economics” um no these are literal kids who deserve to have the opportunity to go to a school like your own kids instead of struggling on the street because you want to be an olden day Karen

Pulitzer is really driving the villain aspect home here

Carrying The Banner is such a bop that they play it even after the song has ended. Thank you creative team.

You can tell that it’s physically painful for Jack to watch Davey sell papes

“KELLLYYYY” Surprisingly, Snyder sounds like he hates his job 💀 (well I take that back, he probably just hates the chasing part but loves the locking up poor defenseless kids for no reason other than to fuel his sadistic power trip part)

YES MEDDA DESERVES ALL THE APPLAUSE

MEDDA, OUR GRACEFUL, GLAMOROUS, ICONIC QUEEN

LES NODDED AFTER MEDDA TOLD DAVEY TO STEP OUT OF HIS WAY I AM LOSING MY MIND AT THIS-

I’m screamingg HE WAVED AT THE BOWERY BEAUTIES AFER

Medda definitely doesn’t get tired of hearing Jack’s infamous Teddy Roosevelt carriage story

“He don’t, but I do”

Jack’s one of those people who say “Stop, my *insert talent* isn’t even good!” and then when he shows it to you it’s the best thing you have ever had the pleasure of viewing

(Head)Canon: Jack hates compliments, unless it’s from a certain someone *cough* David *cough* or Katherine*

The way Medda looks at Jack after he claims it’s all “just a bunch of trees” SHE WANTS HIM TO RECOGNIZE HIS TALENT INSTEAD OF DOWNPLAYING IT OK

Her voice is so pretty-

I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS PERFORMANCE. SHE LOOKS SO HAPPY AND YOU CAN TELL SHE’S HAVING FUN

The audience

Katherine really hates Jack 😍

Every time I hear the banter between Jatherine I just wish they would’ve kept (most of) it in the cast recording

She’s really out here hurting this man’s feelings-

You can tell Jack is running out of pick up lines

OOH KATHERINE IS PISSED AT THAT LOUSY REPORTER COMMENT

Liana’s Katherine seems a lot more relentless so I don’t see her letting up on Jack anytime soon

Wait it’s Iain Young - I THOUGHT HE WAS ONLY IN TOURSIES

OK LES YOU DID NOT HAVE TO USE THAT MUCH FORCE

The audience is just one big Les fan club

THAT SLOW HEAD TURN IM SCREAMING

I love how you can tell the exact moment where Davey gets accepted as one of the Newsies :)

Jack constantly cupping the Newsies faces is the cutest thing ever <3

THE WORLD WILL KNOW IS SO FIERCE

“Will we HEAR ITTT?!” JACK IS SCREAMING AGAIN YES WE LOVE A LOUD AND BOISTEROUS JACK

“And I lost my shoe” :( hope you find it again buddy

LES IS SO FUNNY IM DYINGGG

OK WOAH JACK’S FEELINGS DEFINITELY GOT HURT BECAUSE HE DID NOT SEEM TOO EXCITED TO SEE KATHERINE

Have I mentioned how much I love Crutchie?

Writer’s Block: The Song

“No, Jack - I don’t know what to say” 🥺

Once again, Ben Fankhauser’s vocals do not disappoint

Crutchie: *INCOHERENT NOISES*

Oh look it’s a Guzman twin!

DAVID AND LES’ HUG MY HEART JUST EXPLODED

This is the most affectionate Seize The Day I’ve ever seen, I’m gonna cry-

Cue Jack cupping yet another Newsies’ face 🥺

IM APPROXIMATELY TWO SECONDS AWAY FROM HAVING MY TEARS SPILL OUT OF MY EYEBALLS

Oh, it is Aaron Albano

Corey Cott’s acting in this song >>>

Davey holding back a Newsie 💀

Davey is really the epitome of “I don’t get paid enough for this”

THE PASSION IN JACK’S SPEECH

JACK AND DAVEY RUNNING AWAY WHEN THE REAL DANCING STARTS WILL NEVER NOT MAKE ME LAUGH

I ACTUALLY WINCED THE DELANCEY BROTHERS PUNCHED DAVEY SO FAST I DIDN’T EVEN SEE THAT COMING-

LET GO OF LES YOU COWARDS

Ok Ben’s acting is top tier because I spent a whole five minutes wondering if the actor playing one of the delancey’s accidentally punched him for real or not

Some bullies just interrupted our emotional dance break, time to deal with them and then proceed to dance again 😍

Ahh yes, the fouette (?) towards the end of Seize The Day my beloved

The annoying lump in my throat will not go away :)

SOMEONE IN THE AUDIENCE IS JUMPING UP AND DOWN CHEERING FOR THE NEWSIES

Here comes the worst part

And the chaos ensues

IS IT JUST BEAT UP ON DAVEY DAY OR WHAT?

At first I thought Les was screaming “Let me go!” and “No, please!” but no, it’s Crutchie and he got slapped right after he said that :(

Crutchie’s screams are here to haunt my dreams (for the umpteenth time)

YES CRUTCHIE PUT UP A FIGHT

WAIT I AM JUST NOW REALIZING THAT DAVEY TRIED TO SAVE CRUTCHIE BUT COULDNT

THE WAY THEY KNOCKED HIM ON THE GROUND HAS GOT TO BE THE MOST BRUTAL BEAT DOWN I’VE SEEN so I’m going to cover my eyes for the rest of this because I know what happens and I do not like it :)

I HATE THAT I OPENED MY EYES BECAUSE THEYRE DRAGGING HIM AWAY ON HIS BAD LEGG AND I JUST UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Who knew a fictional character could make me hurt this bad :/

I feel like Jack is in denial

Sometimes escapism isn’t exactly a healthy coping mechanism, Jack (oh look I’m calling myself out too)

Wait I think Corey might be tearing up ahhhhh

Oh would you look at the time it’s pretty late so I might do a pt.2 later

[thatsit-thatsthepost]

The Redfinch Seltzer Fic

I wrote this one for @celestial-rose-sky because she was sad and asked for redfinch content, and honestly I think this turned out pretty cute so y’all can read it too. I’m kinda getting back into the writing mood recently, so maybe more wordstuffs? no promises, tho.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Finch Cortez could not talk about his feelings. Not seriously, anyway. The others knew this, and so they never pushed it when he seemed upset or even when he seemed happy. On this particular day the boys crowded Jacobi’s tables and scared off his customers, loudly asking for water - or in the case of Albert DaSilva, a glass of seltzer.

“The price don’t change just because you really really want it to, kid.” Jacobi huffed. “Two cents, ya know this.”

“Ugh, whatever, just give me a water.” The redhead rolled his eyes and waved Jacobi away dramatically, turning back to talk to Racetrack, who was - as usual - chewing at a cigar. He never lit the things, partly because he couldn’t afford to and partly because he knew he’d hate the taste, but he kept one in his mouth because he thought it made him look tougher than he really was. Finch watched this interaction and frowned. Every time Albert asked for a glass of seltzer, and every time he couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t save his money to save his life - not that there was much to save with their pitiful salary. But still, he seemed to really want that seltzer. An idea formed in Finch’s mind as he watched Albert look forlornly down into his glass of plain water. If Albert couldn’t save for his own seltzer, maybe Finch could do it for him. It wouldn’t be that odd, would it, to do something nice for a friend? It wouldn’t raise suspicion from the others? Not that there was anything to be suspicious of, Finch assured himself. He just thought Albert was nice. And friendly. And funny. And pretty. And strong. And he looked like he’d be a good kisser.

“Alright, boys, clear out of here! We’ve both got work to do! Go on, get.” Jacobi shooed them out in his usual booming voice and the newsies left, leaving half-empty water glasses and rings on the table from when they had forgotten to use the coasters.

~

“Thanks.” Finch nodded at the man’s back as he strode off, counting up the coins he’d collected throughout the day. He was so close to almost there, half a days work more should do it. He slipped the money back into his pocket, adjusted his cap and continued to try and catch people’s attention, calling out headlines both made up and exaggerated. When he returned to the lodging house that night he was happier than usual, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the rest of the newsies.

“What’s up with ‘im?” Race nodded in his direction as he wandered past.

“Dunno. Good day, maybe?” Albert frowned down at his cards. Race may have been his best friend, but by god the boy was hell to play poker with.

“Eh, the headlines were worthless today.” Race shook his head, then grinned. “Read ‘em and weep, Al, because I gotcha with three kings.” Albert huffed and threw down his hand, a measly pair of fives at the forefront.

“Ya must’ve rigged it or something, I never win against ya.” He shook his head and stretched his arms overhead with a yawn. “Long day, I’m heading to bed.”

“Seeya.” Race watched him go, before turning back to his cards, shuffling the deck, and getting up to search for another person willing to play poker with no bets.

~

“Meetcha at Jacobi’s at the usual time, yeah?” A week had passed since Finch had initially had his great idea, and Jack’s word from the morning repeated in his head. “Meetcha at Jacobi’s at the usual time, yeah?” Normally he looked forward to the weekly stint at Jacobi’s, but today eh was nervous, and the coins in his pockets felt particularly hot and heavy as he made his way over to the restaurant. Half the Newsies were already in there, draped over tables and chairs with their hats off. Finch skirted past them up to the counter where poor Jacobi was already filling glasses with water.

“Yeah, it’s comin’, it’s comin’.” He grumbled without turning around.

“Actually is like a glass of seltzer this time around.” Finch forced himself to speak as formally as he could.

“Christsakes, Albert, I told ya—“ Jacobi paused when he realised he was talking to the wrong newsie. “Pardon?”

“A glass of seltzer, please.” Finch repeated, pulling the money out of his pocket. Jacobi regarded it somewhat suspiciously, and Finch tried his best to look innocent. There was a tense moment of silence before Jacobi sighed and took the coins.

“Hold on, I’ll fill ya up your glass.” He handed it over the counter and Finch couldn’t help but grin.

“Gee, thanks Mr Jacobi.”

“Eh, get outta here, kid.” Jacobi waves him away and he turned to find Albert. It didn’t take long, what with his signature red hair. He was perched on the edge of the table, fiddling with that stick he loved to carry around, gently smacking it against his knees. Finch took a few steps towards him and realised his hands were shaking. He panicked, not wanting to spill, and upped his speed a little bit, slowing down once he reached the table. Albert barely looked up until Finch gently placed the glass beside him. He glanced down at it, then back up at Finch. “Getting water delivered now, am I?” He joked. “Well ain’t I the hoy-poloy.”

“Oh, uh, it ain’t water.”

“Well, what is it then? I can’t afford nothin but water.”

“It’s uhh, it’s seltzer.” Finch stuttered before Albert could continue. “You ask for it all the time we’re, uh, every time we’re in here, and I watch you sometimes, I mean, I see you sometimes, and I noticed that you never have much money, I mean, not that any of us do, but you I’m particular can’t really save it, I noticed. But I also noticed how much you like, how much you wanted that seltzer, so I thought hey, hey maybe it’d be nice for ya if I got you some. That’s all—“ Albert looked on as Finch sputtered out his reasoning. “—and ya make a joke of it but I still think it maybe upsets you because it’d upset me if I wanted something real bad and never got it and I don’t like seeing you real upset—“

“Wow.” Albert cut Finch off with a chuckle. “Didn’t know anyone thought that much of it. Since ya saved up and went and bought it an’ all, wanna share?”

“Huh?” Finch could barely believe it. “Share?”

“Yeah? Easy, see, just take it whenever ya want a sip.” Albert shrugged, and he looked as though he was about to say something else when Race interrupted their moment with a shout. He slid into place beside Albert and the two of them chatted away, and Finch was perfectly content to watch the way Albert talked, and glanced over occasionally to make sure Finch - and the seltzer, no doubt - was still there.

[violetwolfraven]

Game Night

@iamsunshinesnowflake requested soft sprace where Race is embarrassed by it from @suddenly-im-respecsable but they passed it off to me so here goes nothing! I included a couple of background ships but I hope you don’t mind!

Tw: vaguely referenced period-typical homophobia, the word ‘queer’ but not used as a slur.

...

Spot loved game nights, not only because he was actually fairly good a card games and usually won a fair amount, but because it gave him an excuse to hang out in Manhattan.

Him and Hotshot came over about once every couple months, saying it was ‘maintaining a strategic alliance,’ but it was really just an excuse to come over and have fun.

He’d definitely never tell Jack Kelly to his face, but Manhattan did have one thing on Brooklyn, and that was the safety of a borough where damn near the entire population old enough to even think about romance were queer.

It was a breath of fresh air where Spot could let his guard down. Not that he did by much, but still.

In most other circumstances, he would deny that most of why he enjoyed Manhattan’s family-like dynamic was because of a certain blond, blue-eyed boy.

But today was a good day. Brooklyn had won a rumble against Harlem, putting both Spot and Hotshot in a good mood, Finch and Albert (who everyone had been bugging for months) had finally gotten together, and there’d been good headlines, so even the worst sellers had full bellies tonight.

Of course, Spot was smiling to himself just thinking about how he was going to get to spend tonight cuddling in his lover’s bed, but nobody else had to know that.

Hotshot seemed to notice, smirking at him from the other side of the poker circle, but he didn’t say anything, happy enough to be sitting there with Ike under his arm.

It was kind of weird, how most kids didn’t actively try to sit on the floor, yet here they all were, sitting in a circle on the floor when there were plenty of perfectly free bunks they could be sitting on.

Whatever. Race was sitting close by, his legs thrown over Spot’s lap, so Spot would’ve been happy even if it was a terrible day.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” he asked as he leaned over, trying to get a look at Spot’s cards again.

“You,” he answered truthfully, kissing him on the cheek as he pulled him a little closer, but still shielding his cards from view.

He loved Race, but not quite enough to let him cheat at poker.

“Aw, that’s adorable,” Cowboy said, shattering the moment.

“Spot...” Race mumbled under his breath, sounding oddly a little uncomfortable.

That was odd mainly because Race was shameless when they were alone, saying whatever he wanted to flirt and not shy about his love of physical contact almost to the point of cat-like clinginess.

In front of the Brooklyn newsies, obviously, they didn’t touch or flirt much. Brooklyn wasn’t safe. Spot wouldn’t trade his boys and girls for anything, but that didn’t make it fun, how most of them would turn on him if they found out who he loved.

Of course, some of them would turn on him, anyway, if they saw any sign of weakness. That was the hard part of having power like Spot did. That there was a chance anyone could turn on him at any second.

That wasn’t to say there weren’t a few people he trusted, because there were. He had a small gang of Brooklyn kids he at least mostly trusted, as his inner circle.

Hotshot, Bluebird, York, Bart, and Rafaela. Not as big a support system as Manhattan, and not one that really talked about feelings or romance or anything, but Spot loved them as brothers and sisters all the same.

Race had a whole group of brothers and sisters, here, all of whom he could trust with his life and his love. So...

Oh, maybe that was the problem. That Spot was getting used to the idea of Manhattan being safe territory and letting himself be affectionate in front of Race’s family.

Emotions and social situations were... definitely not his strong suit, but Spot guessed he could see why that might be embarrassing.

Spot loosened his grip on his lover’s shoulders, but kept his eyes on Jack Kelly.

“You’re one to talk, Cowboy.”

Jack shrugged, but he didn’t move from between Davey Jacobs’s legs, on the floor in front of where the other boy was sitting on one of the bunk beds and watching the game.

Spot could feel Race relax a little, and he realized maybe the problem was that he was worried Jack wouldn’t approve.

Well, normally he wouldn’t give a damn what Cowboy thought of him or anything he did, but for Race, he could think about it a little more.

“If I let ya see my cards will you go easy on me?” he asked, moving so that he wasn’t holding his lover anymore, but was still shoulder to shoulder with him.

Race shrugged happily, “Nope!”

“Traitor.”

“Maybe I was never on your side.”

“That’s cold.”

With that, Spot shoved him a couple feet away, but Race just laughed and threw his legs over his lap again, unbothered.

“I’m gonna win no matter what, Spottie.”

Albert smacked him upside the head, effectively reminding the two that there were other people in the room, “Unfortunately, he’s probably right.”

Spot shrugged. Somehow, that didn’t bother him too much.

[drunkendragons]

when you can't rant about something on social media because there's a Strong Chance the people you’re ranting about will see it 

[timetogoslumming]

7, 13, 17, 26!

7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

someday, id like to finish the bear creek market, but i just got so bored with it. also, im always in the mood to write more mountain ridge.

13. What’s the biggest change between your style when you started in fandom and today?

well, ive been writing fanfic on and off since i was in elementary school so those changes are just... its night and day. my biggest change in my writing from when i started writing for newsies and now is, i think, the way i see the characters. ive fleshed them all out way more in my mind so there are a lot of things id do differently.

17. In your opinion, what’s your most overrated fic?

race and albo need electricity. i appreciate the kind comments but i kind of hate that fic, and it’s my most popular one outside of the mountain ridge series. im really not proud of it at all.

26. What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?

i get a lot of comments on characterization, which i really appreciate. building up characters who maybe have one or two lines (if that!) into fully realized characters is my favorite part of writing for newsies, so i love when thats recognized.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

“Why am I not shocked?” With sprace??

largely stolen from mikeys high ralbert series hope you don’t mind dude

seriously guys go read that series its everything

also a large majority of the weird shit said in this are you guessed it, things mikey has said

consider this a Fat Expose dude

________

ship: sprace, with a nice side of uh what’s the word fuckin uhh PLATONIC ralbert that’s it

genre: c r a c k literally and figuratively

words: a few

editing: ha

warnings: theyre high, and general dumbass stuff. also mikeys weirdness

________

Spot threw down his keys, very much in the mood for cuddling with his boyfriend after a long day of dealing with five year olds punching each other. Well, maybe he didn’t want to cuddle with Race as much as he wanted him to make him some hot chocolate and laugh about the seven times he almost yeeted Ned across the room.

All hopes of a nice quiet night evaporated when he turned into the kitchen.

“OH yEs yOu eAt that sticky paSte baaabe!”

Spot dropped his bag on the floor and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Race, his beautiful, wonderful boyfriend, with a bachelor’s degree in astrophysics from NYU, was shoving a glue stick down Albert’s throat.

“Antonio Edward Higgins,” he sighed, stepping further into the room, “what on Earth are you-” then the all too familiar stench of weed hit him. “Oh,” he sighed, “you’re high, aren’t you?”

“Spottie! My widdle chicken nugget! You’re back from hell!” Race screeched, launching himself at Spot, who stumbled back a bit, hitting the wall behind him. “I missed youuuu.”

“I missed you too,” Spot said, his eyes traveling towards Albert who was poking suspiciously at the glue stick that moments ago Race had been shoving into his mouth. “But can you please explain to me why you were just making Albert deep throat a glue stick?”

Race shrugged. “I saw a vid of someone eating glue sticks and…” he took a drag from a joint that Spot had somehow missed before, “it looked kinda saucy, so…”

“Doesn’t taste as good as fruity pebbles though,” Albert frowned, taking another bite of the glue stick and spitting it out onto the floor and glaring at it. “Throw me the joint, love muffin.”

“Throw the- what?”

A split second later there was a joint flying through the air, spinning end over end until it landed in Albert’s palm.

“Well now I’ve seen just about everything,” Spot muttered, already pulling out his phone to text Finch to come collect his very stoned boyfriend.

“That’s called the Yeet Boi,” Race giggled, falling into Spot’s side. “We made him during our AP spanish class.”

“Why am I not shocked,” Spot mused, pulling Race upright.

Race opened his mouth to say something but luckily Finch chose that moment to barge into the apartment, wordlessly stub out the joint Albert was holding on the floor with his boot, toss the glue stick over his shoulder, and hoist up his boyfriend over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, stopping only to nod at Spot graciously before walking back to his own apartment, Albert all the while whining about fruity pebbles incoherently.

“Bye bean boi,” Race giggled, waving at the closed door incessantly.

Spot rolled his eyes. “C’mon dumbass,” he groaned. “I don’t care if you’re high or not, I’m still going to cuddle with you and tell you about all the kids I almost yeeted today.”

_________

we lov some high kiddos

I hope i did you justice mikeyyyy ive never written high kiddos before

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

tag list@fairly-awkward-trashcan@well-the-kids-do-too@racetrackcook@bouncyscreamingnewsboys@ughwaitwhat@aw-jus-let-em-try@ben-cook-can-cook@the-woild-is-my-what-now@tommy-s-s0cks@voice-foundshoe-lost@galaxy-trees13@stopthe-presses@ridin-in-style@pinecovewoods@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing@bencookisagod@be-more-chill-evan-hansen@hellasoulless@stellar-alpaca@saxoph-ella@smolcanadiankid@disney-princess-sized@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog@insane-tomato@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn@have-we-got-news-for-you@thatfancyclam@myidkwhatmynameisblog@legoflambwrites@that-one-newskid@not-a-scab@albertdasillvaprotectionsquad

@entschuldigung-bitches

@thebroadwayaesthetic

@tea-and-theater

@thomasbeingthomas

@seasickdolphin

@auspicioustarantula

@newsies-of-ny

@mrs-higgins

@sunshine-e-cigarettes

@spot-me50-papes

@santafe-cafe

@papesdontsellthemselves

@king-of-new-yoirk

@deathcast-s

@the-poodles-of-pulitzer

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

[bexlynne]

Time To Go Slumming (Chapter 1)

(A/N): Hey!  I’m finally writing again, after over a year of not!  I’m very happy to be doing what I love again.  I’ve been working on this story for close to a year, and I’ve finally written enough of it that I’m ready to start posting!  Let me know what you think of the story and my OC’s, and let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates of this story! Trigger warnings for this chapter: use of the word ‘whore,’ sexual harassment, violence, mentions of death.

Spot paced back and forth along the roof, fingering the gold finial on his cane. Every so often he stole a glance at the street down below, keeping an eye on his boys. They were just starting to get home, trickling into the lodging house in twos and threes as the sun started to go down. He kept a mental tally, swearing under his breath when he came up two short. The two he was looking for, of course.

"Extra, extra!" Riddle shouted. Her voice carried even to Spot's ears, a block down and two stories up. "Maniac on the loose in 'Hattan! Hundreds flee the city!"

Hot Shot grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth to bellow his own headline. "Unda'paid milkman drives truck through factory! Death count high!"

"Mayor falls in love with seagull!"

"Drunk jockey at Sheepshead runs race without a horse!"

"Drunk vaudeville singer falls off stage mid-song!"

Spot shook his head in disgust, watching as a man stopped them a few feet from the lodging house. He took the pape from Riddle and handed a coin to Hot Shot, touching his cap to both of them before he left. I didn't think it was possible. These two is worse than Kelly.

Pushing himself up from the railing, Spot brought his fingers up to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Both newsies looked startled, and he pointed at them with his cane. "Both of ya!" he called. "Get up here." Hot Shot let Riddle slide to the ground, leading the way to the fire escape ladder. Spot could hear them bickering even from where he stood.

"Ladies first," Hot Shot said with a bow.

Riddle took a step back with a shake of her head. "Not a chance. I ain't gonna have ya checkin' me out as I climb the ladder."

"I had ya on my shoulders all day and didn't try nothin' once, what are ya talkin' about?" Hot Shot said indignantly.

"Ya can neva' be too careful," Riddle said in a singsong voice.

"Yeah, since ya care so much 'bout bein' careful," Hot Shot teased.

Riddle parked her hands on her hips with a scowl, like the older boy didn't have a good six inches on her. "Says the fella who let me fall."

"It was an accident!" Hot Shot protested.

"Twice?" Riddle scoffed.

Spot rolled his eyes. "Would you two cut it out an' just get up here?" he yelled down the ladder. He resumed his agitated pacing, muttering to himself. "Why can't ya just act your age?" he said under his breath, casting a baleful glare in their direction.

Hot Shot pulled himself up onto the roof, giving Spot a nod and pausing for a second to give Riddle a hand. She sat down right where she was, leaning her back against the railing and stretching her legs out in front of her. "I wanna sleep," she said with a yawn. "Is it time for bed yet?"

"Quit your gripin', I did all the walkin'," Hot Shot said good-naturedly, nudging her leg with his foot. He reached into his shirt pocket, taking out a slightly squashed hunk of bread and tearing it in half. "Ya eat yet today?"

Riddle sat up straighter, reaching out for it. "No," she said, a note of bitterness in her voice. "Those old bats don't give me a second glance. Judgmental old hags."

Both boys' heads whipped in her direction. "Riddle!" they said at the same time. Spot's tone was scolding, and Hot Shot sounded horrified.

"Ya can't just insult nuns!" the Italian said, his dark eyes wide. He performed the sign of the Blessed Cross, making Riddle -the only one of them who wasn't raised Catholic- roll her eyes.

"Whateva' ya say," she said drily. "My point is, they won't give me food. They think I's some kind a' whore."

Spot grunted. "Ya are a whore."

Riddle opened her mouth to protest, then she changed her mind. "Fair enough." She sat back against the railing, chewing her bread, and Hot Shot dropped down beside her to count out the days' earnings, dividing the coins into two neat piles. Spot waited impatiently for them to finish, tapping out a beat with his cane on the ground.

Most people had a way of getting on his nerves, these two only slightly less than others. They could be irritating enough most days, but these two -the cool-headed Italian and the fiery, flirty gypsy girl- were part of his inner circle, somewhere between allies and friends. Hot Shot was the same age as Spot, fifteen, and the two of them had been fast friends since they were eleven. The other boy had Spot's level head for leadership, but without the quick temper that so often got Spot into trouble. His easy-going nature and the way he kept his temper under control made him a valuable second-in-command to have.

Riddle was a year younger, and the only girl living at the Poplar Street lodging house. She had been only ten years old when she had somehow charmed her way past house manager Mr. Crawley and into the ranks of the Brooklyn newsies, and she hadn't lost any of her skill since then. Then again, she was a lot less trouble back then, and old Mr. Crawley's heart was a lot softer. Either way, her quick thinking and out-of-the-box ideas had earned her a place close to Spot... in more ways than one. She had a few other attributes he was fond of, too.

Finally, Riddle swallowed the last of her bread and looked up, her violet-blue eyes meeting Spot's. "What'd ya need us for?" she asked, starting to untie the length of twine securing one of her braids.

Spot rolled a cigarette between his fingers before striking a match against the concrete and lighting it. He didn't miss Hot Shot's flinch as he did so, or the way he tugged his shirtsleeves down further and wrapped his arms around his torso. Spot saw it all -he saw everything- but he ignored it, blowing out a breath of smoke. "I's been hearin' things from me boids," he said. "There's whispers of a turf war brewin', ova' in Queens."

The other two exchanged glances. "So?" Riddle said cautiously. "Queens always fights ova' boundaries. Stretch is a good enough leada', he keeps 'em in check."

"He did," Spot corrected with a grim smile. "'Til they found 'im in the river."

He kept that eerie smile on his face as Riddle let out a gasp and Hot Shot muttered a curse in Italian. "A'right," Hot Shot said after a moment. "So they's without a leada', and they's fightin' with themselves. What's that gotta do with us?"

Spot rolled his eyes, running his fingers down the length of his cane. "'S only a matta' a' time 'fore a new leada' rises ta the top. New leada's is full a' bluff an' bluster. First thing he'll wanna do is try ta prove himself by takin' Brooklyn."

"Ya don't know that," Hot Shot said with a slight frown.

Spot took a seat, propping his feet up and letting his cigarette dangle from his fingers. "Ya wanna bet? I'se been around long enough ta see three guys take ova' Queens. Neither a' you was here, but Jumper always stomped 'em out quick 'fore they could do any damage." He noticed Riddle stiffen at the mention of the old leader's name, and he was curious as to why. Carefully, he filed that information away before finishing his thought. "We's got a chain goin', and I ain't lettin' myself be the weak link. Brooklyn don't fall, not on my watch."

Riddle rearranged her features carefully, building up her mask of indifference before she spoke again. "That why we ain't allies with them like we are with 'Hattan?"

Spot studied her appraisingly. "More or less," he said finally. "If me boids is right, they'll have a new leada' come summa'. We's'll hafta be on our guard 'til then, make sure they don't try nothin' while it's still every man for hisself. I want ya ta stay away from the borda', Riddle."

"I don't go there, anyways," the girl said, shaking out her hair and stuffing the twine in her pocket. "Too close ta Blade's territory."

"Don't talk about him," Spot snapped. "I ain't in the mood."

Riddle frowned. "I ain't talkin' bout nothin'," she said. "You's the one who brought it up."

"I didn't bring nothin' up," Spot countered. "I just told ya-"

"As entertainin' as this is," Hot Shot cut in. "I'm out. It's too late for sparks ta be flyin' between you two. I's headed ta bed."

Spot glanced up, surprised to see the moon high in the sky. "Yeah, that's prob'ly a good idea," he agreed. "Whaddaya say, Rid? Let's save the sparks flyin' for the bedroom."

Riddle shifted her position to sit by Spot. "Sounds good by me," she said, her hands traveling up his suspender straps to rest behind his neck. Her slender fingers tangled themselves in his hair, and a playful smirk crossed her face. "Let's save the real fun for lata'."

"Yeah, I didn't need ta hear that," Hot Shot stated, scooping up his coins and getting to his feet. "'Night, sorella," he added to Riddle, handing her her share.

Riddle slipped the coins into her pocket and gave him a little wave. "'Night, Hot Shot," she said, laying her head back on Spot's chest. It was only a few moments before his restless energy was back, and he pushed Riddle off of him and crossed over to the railing.

The gypsy girl stood up with a sigh. "I should head down, too," she said. Spot didn't turn, didn't even seem to hear her. "Are ya comin'?" she pressed, wrapping her arms around her waist.

He glanced back at her. "Nah, I'm good up here," he said. "G'night."

Riddle waited a moment, but he was apparently done talking to her. "Night," she said, turning to find the ladder.

"Up and at 'em, boys!" Crawley yelled through the open doorway. He heard a few muffled groans from inside and rolled his eyes, stepping through the doorway and into the darkened room. He was instantly hit with the smell of unwashed socks, teenage boys, and wool clothes drying on the radiator. "C'mon, get up, get up," he scolded, crossing to the first bed he saw and giving the boy in it a shake.

The boy -Tracks, judging by the shock of red hair poking out from under his blanket- swatted Crawley's hand away. "Lea'e me 'lone," he mumbled, curling up tighter.

The house manager shook his head in response, a grin spreading across his face. "C'mon, boys! Up and at 'em!" he ordered, flicking on the lights. He opened the windows for good measure, shivering slightly at the draft. With a glance at Spot's empty bed, he ducked out of the room and took the attic stairs two at a time to wake Riddle. "You up, girlie?" he asked, rapping on the wooden door.

"Yeah, I's gettin' there," the girl called from inside.

"Spot better not be in there with ya," he warned, not budging an inch.

He heard a pause, a snap of suspenders, and then- "oh, Mr. Crawley, we would neva'."

"Don't you try that on me," Crawley retorted, rolling his eyes. "Ya may have those boys all wrapped up in those pretty little fingers a' yours, Miss Ridley, but not me. Where's Conlon?"

The thin door couldn't muffle her laughter, prompting him to roll his eyes again. "No idea. He was up on the roof all night, came down the fire escape. He passed my winda' on by. It was about four, I think. Ain't seen him since then."

Crawley shook his head, turning back to head down the stairs. That boy. Pausing outside the bunk room door to yell a few early morning encouragements to the boys -"Hurry up, ya lazy bums! My ol' granny moves faster than all y'all, God rest her soul!"- he strode into the front room and dropped into his desk chair.

"Mornin'," a voice said, causing the man to jump a foot into the air. Spot stood in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the jamb with a smirk on his face.

"Land sakes, boy!" Crawley sputtered, his southern drawl coming out thicker than usual. "Scarin' me nigh ta death like that."

"Calm down, old man," Spot said, leaning lazily against the desk.

"Old," Crawley muttered indignantly. "Ya better watch that mouth a' yours, boy. I'm twenty-five, and ya know it."

"The boys givin' ya trouble?" Spot asked knowingly, ignoring the threat.

Crawley waved a hand dismissively, sitting back down. "Boys'll be boys."

"Not on my watch," Spot said darkly, pushing up from the desk and heading up the stairs.

Riddle passed him on her way down, dressed in a green-and-blue checked shirt and gray trousers, her cap stuck in her back pocket and her hair tied up in braids. "Mornin', Crawley," she said sweetly.

The Texan softened some, sending the girl a fond smile. "Good mornin', darlin'."

Spot rolled his eyes. "Suck up," he hissed to Riddle as he breezed past.

Riddle grinned, flipping him off behind Crawley's back.

"Hey, that ain't very ladylike," a voice drawled from the top of the stairs. Sting sauntered down to stand next to Riddle, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall, just a little too close for her liking. "What about me? Don't I get a good mornin'?"

Riddle crossed her arms over her chest, sliding back a step out of the older boy's reach. Sting- seventeen, always pushing the envelope and a constant thorn in Spot's side. And, by extension, Riddle's. "Good mornin'," she said stiffly.

"Not good enough," Sting said, snatching up one of her suspenders and tugging her towards him. His tone was joking, but his eyes were cold as ice.

"Let go," Riddle said irritably, yanking the strap out of his hands and snapping them up on her shoulders.

"Ohh, I see how it is," Sting said with a grin. "You's Spot Conlon's whore, but when it comes ta the rest of us you's man-shy."

Crawley got to his feet, but Spot beat him to it. "Sting," he said brusquely from the landing. Crawley felt a smile spread slowly across his face. For all his faults, Spot had a radar when it came to Riddle. It made Crawley's job that much easier.

Spot moved down to the bottom step, folding his arms and gripping his cane tightly. "Ya got somethin' ta say ta Riddle?"

Even on the step Spot was about two inches shorter, but Sting's resolve wavered. "No," he muttered.

Sting shifted uncomfortably as Spot's gaze burned into him. "Somethin' ya got ta say ta me? Thoughts on how I run the place?" When he didn't get an answer, Spot's arm jerked up without warning, clipping the bigger boy's jaw with the head of his cane. "Get outta my sight," he ordered. One hand flying up to cradle his chin, Sting fled without a word.

Riddle bit her lip, smiling slightly. "My hero," she teased, wrapping her arms around Spot's neck. She pressed a quick kiss to the side of his neck, right below his ear.

Instead of grabbing her waist and pulling her closer, like he usually did, Spot batted her off. "I's gotta get the boys," he said, sliding his cane through his belt loop without looking at her. "They take too long." He spun on his heel and headed for the staircase.

Crawley hesitated, still standing behind his desk. "You okay, girlie?" he asked, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Riddle glared at Spot's retreating back. "I's fine," she said shortly. "Tell Hot Shot ta hurry it up, will ya?" Shrugging out from under Crawley's hand, she pushed through the front door and let it close with a bang.

Crawley sighed, leaning back against the desk. "It's too early for them to start with this," he muttered.

Riddle was leaning against the red brick wall of the distribution center when the boys got there, poring over a copy of the day's paper. "We get paid ta hawk the papes, not read 'em," Hot Shot said, snatching it out of her hands and examining the headline.

Riddle bumped against him with all her weight, but the Italian boy barely wobbled. "Gotta check out the merchandise," she said. "Figure out the angle for the day."

"Fair enough," Hot Shot said with a shrug, handing the paper back. "Why'd ya skip out on us?" he inquired.

Riddle fiddled with the chain around her neck, sinking down to sit cross-legged with her back to the wall. "Don't see no point in waitin' 'round for the nuns, not when I don't get nothin' outta it," she said finally, spreading the paper out in front of her. "Figured I's'd get here early, beat the crowd."

"Good plan," Hot Shot agreed. "'Cept I don't have my papes yet, so you's still gotta wait."

Riddle threw a bundle of papers at his chest, a smirk spreading across her face. "Ya owe me forty-five cents," she said.

Hot Shot dug around in his pocket and flipped her a fifty-cent piece, deftly catching the nickel she tossed his way with the other hand. "Let's get movin' then, whaddaya waitin' for? We's wastin' daylight and losin' customers." He let his bundle of papes rest on his shoulder, pushing his long dark bangs out of his eyes. "Usual spots. Yell if ya get inta trouble, 'kay Rid?" When a moment or two went by without an answer he tried again. "Rid. Ridley," he said in a singsong voice. "Riddle!"

His selling partner flinched, her violet-blue eyes snapping into focus. "What? Jeez, Hot Shot."

"Bad mornin'?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. "You was blankin' out."

"Shuddup," Riddle said, ducking away from him. "I don't blank out. I was plottin' out my sellin' patterns for the day," she added primly.

"Sure," Hot Shot said knowingly. "Flirt with anythin' that moves and beg for money. Takes a lotta thought ta plan that one."

"Didn't I tell ya ta shut up?" Riddle protested, dodging the hand that reached out to ruffle her hair. "Get out there, we's got papes ta sell. I ain't buyin' your dinner for ya tonight."

"Yes, ma'am," the older boy said with mock severity. "Ya won't see me again today." Shaking his head with a smirk, he headed off towards Prospect Park. "I'll take the south side a' the park, you take the north."

"No... Hot Shot!" Riddle yelled after him. "Wind's comin' from off the bay. You'll sell more on the east side."

He grinned, halting in his tracks. "Grazie per il consiglio, sorella," he called back, not bothering to turn around. "Stai attento." He knew she most likely didn't know that phrase, but he also knew that he was confused practically every time she tried to give him advice, so he figured they were even. Taking a deep breath, he set out to face the day. Take it one thing at a time, Hot Shot. For now just work on sellin' your first pape.

"Ma'am!" he said, falling into step beside a woman pushing a pram. "Have ya read today's paper? There's some kind a' maniac loose in the park, ya might wanna find a different route for your walk. A penny'll buy ya all the details."

I can do this. Today's gonna be a good day.

Italian translations:

Sorella - sister

Grazie per il consiglio, sorella. - Thanks for the advice, sister.

Stai attento. - Be careful

[leftmyurlinmyotherpants]

GUYS I SAW BANDSTAND

okay so i saw bandstand today (8/26) and it was so good. i bought my ticket at the box office and it was perfect because it was the seat i was looking at online last night but i didnt want to spend an extra $30 in service fees (which is bullshit but i digress) and i sat down and overheard a girl talking to her dad about laura osnes being able to work with two jack kellys and (somehow) i was like “you right though, she gets to work with them while i spend all my money trying to see one” and we got into conversation (her name is ashley and shes precious) and it was awesome and we both freaked out during the show (the lighting was so good, coming from my light tech standpoint) and we kept freaking out because corey cott did the thing™ and REMEMBERED ALL HIS LINES WHICH WAS AMAZING (but he was also rarely in the light which sorta pissed me off but it was fine) and we collectively fell in love with the guy who plays the drummer, joe carroll and it was awesome. then we went and stagedoored and we both started shaking because UM OBVIOUSLY and then right before the first person came out, some random ass container of protein powder fell out of the sky and bonked ashley on her head and then people started coming out and we got signatures and stuff and it was sick. 

now a little backstory. before my mom passed, i got into newsies, which was great and she was supportive of my choice of musicals and i showed her the different jack kellys and she pointed at corey cott and she was like “he looks like he has a good voice” and i found audio and played it for her and she loved it, so whenever she was in a good mood, i would play the newsies soundtrack and she sorta really loved the line “someday becomes somehow” from seize the day and she would always tell me that if she were to get another tattoo, she’d get that done. now as i mentioned, she passed and loved corey cott so when he came out, i asked him to write it on the “AT THIS PERFORMANCE” sheet that came with the playbill and according to ashley, his eyes went really wide and the BIGGEST smile came onto his face and he wrote it on the sheet and i started crying and it was great and as he was walking back to go back into the theater, he smiled at me and i almost lost it, it was great. my plan is to get that tattooed at some point as a tribute to what she would have done if she were able to so yeah.

then a few more people came out and signed our playbills and stuff (theres gonna be pictures at the end of this post and yeah). then afterward we walked across the street to just experience the DEH stagedoor from afar and that was fun, i crab-walked across the street because i thought i saw mike faist through the window that he waves at corey from so that was an interesting sight. then after experiencing the stagedoor (not really participating but she got a picture of colton ryan so that as nice) we started chatting and since she and her dad had time to kill before seeing come from away, we walked to schmakary’s, her first time there and she loved it. 

then IT™ happened.

so i was just observing and i must’ve felt a disturbance in the force or something and i yelled “HAT” while staring at the cross walk, apparently lowkey recognizing someone. GUESS WHO I FUCKIN SAW WHEN I YELLED HAT?

MIKE FUCKING FAIST. 

so i was like “hat crossing the street” to ashley and miKE FUCKIN LOOKED AT ME AND WE MADE EYE CONTACT AND RAISED EYEBROWS AT EACH OTHER AND I JUST ABOUT FUCKIN LOST IT YOU DONT UNDERSTAND AND I WAS SO HAPPY AND IT WAS GREAT AND WE WERE LIKE “FUCK TAHT JUST HAPPEND”

and then i told her my famous story of when i realized i probably am either VERY stupid or i have some minor form of prosopagnosia (face-blindness) and when i ran into ben platt TWICE IN A FUCKING ROW and didnt realize it until like twenty minutes after it happened (if you want, ill write a whole separate story on that, let me know please) and she started freaking out and it was hilarious. it was an adventure. 

then i walked her back to w45th and we sat and waited for come from away to let them in and it was awesome and we kinda just hung out and talked and shes awesome. and yeah 

so that was my day.

im still shaking

and also gonna cry 

again

but its all good because happy tears :) 

ALSO PICTURES 

when i bought the ticket ^

the stereotypical broadway show picture^

“someday becomes somehow” from corey (his handwriting is so nice) ^

playbill + signatures (yes its on my bed, dont judge me) ^

corey looking shaken, rattled and rolled and VERY confused, i think thats his listening face, i cant tell but yeah ^

james nathan hopkins (i think) looking slightly uncomfortable but still precious ^

brandon j. ellis when ashley told him that she was concerned with how he holds his bass ^

[sparrowsfallingfromthesky]

do all the numbers

ok! (from this ask meme)

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged? No2. You talked to an ex today, correct? No3. Have you taken someones virginity? No4. Is trust a big issue for you? I don’t really know what this means5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently? sadly no I have not hung out with George Blagden recently6. What are you excited for? In theory I should be getting a book delivered soon7. What happened tonight? Last night I came home for the weekend8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted? Why girls specifically??9. Is confidence cute? Uh I mean it’s nice when people feel good about themselves I wouldn’t call it “cute”10. What is the last beverage you had? Tea11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? first of all fuck binaries am I right but if you’re talking about guys then like.. five12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans? Yes13. What are you gonna do Saturday night? Shower and tumblr I’m very exciting14. What are you going to spend money on next? I don’t know15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed? no16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months? Probably17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything? No one18. The last time you felt broken? I don’t know19. Have you had sex today? lol no20. Are you starting to realize anything? Yeah I have a musical problem21. Are you in a good mood? Sure22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks? Maybe23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s? His are bluer but they’re similar24. What do you want right this second? some chocolate would be nice25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy? N/A26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color? Yeah27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh? No28. What was the last thing that made you laugh? I watched Powerless last night and I also laughed a little when I just went to see Beauty and the Beast I think29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now? Sort of but not really30. Does everyone deserve a second chance? Not Everyone but like most people sure31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to? No32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do? irrelevant33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda? No34. Listening to? My mom is humming Belle from Beauty and the Beast35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore? Absolutely36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is? whom37. Do you believe in love at first sight? Not exactly idk38. Who did you last call? My mom39. Who was the last person you danced with? If you mean like a slowdance then Alex but otherwise it would be Teresa whenever we last danced to Newsies40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed? no41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake? I don’t know probably last week42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today? Yes43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush? Sure44. Do you tan in the nude? No45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss? no46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night? No47. Who was the last person to call you? Some telemarketer48. Do you sing in the shower? When I’m at home yeah but not at school49. Do you dance in the car? not really50. Ever used a bow and arrow? Yes51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer? Isn’t anyone who uses a camera technically a photographer52. Do you think musicals are cheesy? ABSOLUTELY NOT53. Is Christmas stressful? It depends54. Ever eat a pierogi? Yes55. Favorite type of fruit pie? Maybe blueberry56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? I went through a bunch of phases but at one point I wanted to simultaneously be a librarian, a writer, an artist, a cook, and an astronomer57. Do you believe in ghosts? not really58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling? Yes59. Take a vitamin daily? in theory but.. no60. Wear slippers? Yeah61. Wear a bath robe? No62. What do you wear to bed? Pajamas63. First concert? I really don’t know because my city has concerts in the park in the summer and I’ve been to lots of those and some other events elsewhere before I really remember but the first like big concert I went to that sticks with me was Trans Siberian Orchestra64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart? I guess Target65. Nike or Adidas? neither66. Cheetos Or Fritos? Cheetos67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds? Usually peanuts68. Favorite Taylor Swift song? I don’t really have one69. Ever take dance lessons? Yes70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing? No71. Can you curl your tongue? yeah72. Ever won a spelling bee? No73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy? I cry from laughing sometimes and I came really close to crying when I met Benjamin Alire Saenz74. What is your favorite book? Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe and Les Miserables75. Do you study better with or without music? I don’t study but I do usually listen to music76. Regularly burn incense? No77. Ever been in love? Probably not78. Who would you like to see in concert? I want to see Darlingside again but I also think it would be cool to see the Lumineers79. What was the last concert you saw? Bastille!80. Hot tea or cold tea? Like.. lukewarm81. Tea or coffee? Tea82. Favorite type of cookie? I don’t know83. Can you swim well? No84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose? for a few seconds sure85. Are you patient? I misread this as “are you a patient” and I was so confused... I’m not impatient but I’m not really patient either86. DJ or band, at a wedding? I don’t care it’s not my wedding87. Ever won a contest? Yeah I used to win coloring contests sometimes88. Ever have plastic surgery? No89. Which are better black or green olives? Black90. Opinions on sex before marriage? I could not care less91. Best room for a fireplace? I don’t know where do fireplaces usually go92. Do you want to get married? I don’t know maybe but mostly for benefits

[all-hail-the-witcher]

the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell

some Original Content by yours truly eeee

I had to write this for school, its like a send off speech cause were seniors and stuff and I thought you guys might appreciate it cause it talks about memes and stuff

______

As a member of Generation Z, my mom often complains that I seem to speak in “code.” There have been countless occasions where I have had to explain the meaning of words such as  “same,” “mood,” and “me,” what a vine is, the notion that yeet is in fact a verb and not a noun, and, of course, memes.

As you are all aware, there are memes for virtually anything and everything you could possibly experience on a daily basis. From being stuck in traffic to stealing other peoples food, the internet and, by default, our brilliant minds, have created relatable images that oftentimes distract us from doing, say, our math homework. Obviously, we all want to pass our math classes, but when the homework consists of 48 problems saying “if Bobby has 16 apples and Susan owns a car that runs on vegetable oil, how many ice cubes will it take to cover the surface area of Norway” you can probably see why I procrastinate it until the last possible second.

It seems that schools teach us unnecessary things most of the time. If I were to ask something useful, for example: “What are taxes and how do I pay them?” it is almost certain that the school system would respond with: “Worry not. The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

What do we need school for anyway? We already know everything, just ask our parents. We cram study for all of our tests and promptly forget the information right after, just look at our midterm and final grades. We write all of our essays and speeches mere hours before they are due, just check our turnitin receipts. Add in sleep deprivation, an unhealthy dose of anxiety, three cups of coffee, a slightly dark sense of humor and you’ve got an average high school senior. From our perspective, we have every reason to wish graduation were tomorrow. And yet, some of us are still apprehensive about leaving, even if we don't want to admit it.

Why have we grown so attached to the place that has been the cause of our self proclaimed demise? It is because shoved in here, in this massive cell, we have all become mitochondria. Whether we like it or not, we have all become accustomed to being around each other everyday, and now that must change. Cells are constantly renewing themselves, and now it is time for this cell to let us go so that it can begin training the next batch of brains. We must now become the mitochondria of our own cell, wherever that may take us.

Now, this is the part of the speech where I tell you all the sappy stuff like “just be yourself,” “you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take,” and “don't let anyone dull your sparkle.” I’m also sure there are many motivational memes you could look at that would probably do a much better job motivating you than I can.

But if you haven’t tuned me out by now, remember this: above anything else, high school taught us how to survive on a daily basis in a place full of lunatics and still get decent grades. So, if you survived this, you can take whatever the world throws at you, using your own mitochondria worthy brain. That is what high school was meant to teach us.

And if you still wanna know how to pay taxes, just youtube it. I’m pretty sure some bored millennial made a how-to.

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idk everyone laughed in class when I read it today and the teacher died when I started talking about the mitochondria so

also gonna tag list cause why the heck not

hmu to be added

tag list @fairly-awkward-trashcan @well-the-kids-do-too @racetrackcook @bouncyscreamingnewsboys @ughwaitwhat @aw-jus-let-em-try @ben-cook-can-cook @the-woild-is-my-what-now @tommy-s-s0cks @voice-foundshoe-lost @galaxy-trees13

@stopthe-presses @ridin-in-style @pinecovewoods @i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing @bencookisagod @be-more-chill-evan-hansen @hellasoulless @stellar-alpaca @saxoph-ella @smolcanadiankid @disney-princess-sized @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @insane-tomato @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @have-we-got-news-for-you @thatfancyclam @myidkwhatmynameisblog @legoflambwrites @that-one-newskid @not-a-scab @albertdasillva-deactivated20181

@entschuldigung-bitches

@thebroadwayaesthetic

@tea-and-theater

@thomasbeingthomas

@seasickdolphin

@auspicioustarantula

@newsies-of-ny

@mrs-higgins

@sunshine-e-cigarettes

@spot-me50-papes

@santafe-cafe

@papesdontsellthemselves

@king-of-new-yoirk

@deathcast-s

@the-poodles-of-pulitzer

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters