#newsboys

[lighten-up-no-one-died]

Something that lives in my mind rent free.

What if the 17 year old Jack doesn’t love Santa Fe as much as he used to anymore? Sure, he thinks about it and has fantasies about it… but it’s more of a like, “I have to go to Santa Fe because this is my persistence for it. I need to go there because I need to fulfill my own dreams for my younger self.”

[keysandpaper]

Gonna be totally honest here.. Whenever I watch Newsies (1992) i get so mad that Davey and Jack don’t have more going on. They had SO much chemistry. Justice for Javid!

[ihatecoconut]

*asks about your research*

loudly panicking bc that post got way more response than i was expecting

so! in preparation for my dissertation next year (in theory. i may end up changing my mind completely before then) I have been looking at how child labor has been written about by historians, with a focus on newsboys as the most 'visible' form of this labor.

It's actually a really interesting shift, because the starting historiography, from the early to mid 1900s, is highly focused on the reform efforts of groups like the Children's Aid Society. these take very moralistic tones, focusing on 'saving' the children from their conditions, placing emphasis on harsh working and living conditions, and (notably) do not include first-hand account from any newsies or adults who used to be newsies.

now. this changes in the 1960s (ish) with the rise of social history in academic circles, which encourages research from the 'bottom up' rather than 'top down' narratives, which were common previously and tended to prioritise documents from governments/politicians/reform groups. so we see a shift in scholarship from victim-focused narratives to exploring children as active participants in labor, and a recognition of child labor as a subculture with its own norms and practices.

this is the point at which we start to see accounts from adults who used to be newsies starting to appear - these, however, are not unproblematic. they tend to be autobiographies from adults who have since 'made it' in the world and risen to a certain level of fame - obviously enough to be writing autobiographies, although the sections addressing their lives as newsies can be very small parts of the whole. And they are all written retrospectively, as well as being written for an audience, so their reliability is not necessarily perfect.

more recently, scholarship has begun to address this in more detail, starting to look at how we can tease out the stories of the newsies who did not leave a paper trail. in many cases this is through photographs (jacob riis' in particular) and through records like lodging houses in which we may not be able to see their opinions of their lives, but we can see their movements and how they lived their lives.

as a whole, it's a very underrepresented area of history that is not often studied, however that is beginning to change. The continuing rise of social and cultural histories has introduced intersectional analyses of child labor, emphasizing how gender, race, and ethnicity shaped labor experiences. newsgirls in particular are starting to be studied in more detail, with some scholars finding the differences in their lives to their male counterparts.

but. there is still so much to be studied, so many stones unturned, we could look at the racial and religious dynamics within the newsie workforce and how social anxieties about race and immigration effected them. we could look at a longitudinal study - finding a few case studies and tracing them (as far as is possible) through time, investigating their long-term social and economic trajectories to understand the impact working as children had on their lives.

personally, i think that we also need historians to look at newsies the musical as a legitimate form of public history and how it introduces people to this under-explored area of history. and also why the musical was made in the first place when you consider how neglected this area is. there also needs to be an intersection with media history - after all, up until radio became a thing, there was a very long stretch of time where the only way to receive news was through the newspaper or through hearing other people read the headlines, and where were you likely to get both of these things? from the kids on the streets selling the papers.

in conclusion. newsies are an incredibly important area of history that has not been studied, partially because it is difficult to study the history of people who do not leave paper trails, but also because child labor has only recently started to be seen as a legitimate area for study. thank you for your time.

📰📰📰📰📰

v quick tag of everyone else who asked!! @i-got-poisenality @lalarose216 @blue5rose @make-friends-with-the-rats

thank you all for asking!!!!

[flintt]

here’s your invitation to show off your newsies shrines, here’s mine

[youaintnothinbuta]

“I saw you up there, Romeo.” — jack kelly x reader

Summary: Drabble where Jack finally makes his (subtle) move on you after he’s been pining for ages in secret. He does it at Medda’s performance at the theatre, leaving you to go home smiling to yourself with excitement.

Pairing: jack kelly x reader

Word count: 614

Warnings: none!! Fluffy jack <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You and some of the newsies had gathered to head to theatre, Medda being kind enough to offer you any seats that weren’t sold scattered throughout the place. In the midst of Medda's performance, you caught Jack's eye. He winked at you, his mischievous grin suggesting that he had something up his sleeve. Just as you were about to mouth a questioning “What?” he subtly motioned for you to follow him.

Curiosity piqued, you exchanged a glance with Spot, who raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. With a nod, he silently encouraged you to see what Jack was up to.

Jack led you to a small side door that opened to a hidden balcony overlooking the theatre. The view was breathtaking—Medda's performance was visible from a unique vantage point, and the music filled the air in a way that felt more intimate.

"Thought you might like this," Jack said with a grin, leaning against the balcony railing. You gazed out at the stage, the beauty of the moment leaving you speechless.

"Thanks, Jack," you finally whispered, your voice tinged with genuine appreciation.

"Anytime, Y/N," he replied with a shrug, a soft smile playing on his lips.

As you watched Medda’s performance, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Jack sitting beside you. It wasn’t often, in fact, it was never, that you got any alone time with him, despite having a small under-the-radar crush on him.

The way his eyes twinkled with mischief, the warmth of his presence beside you—it all filled you with a sense of comfort and thrill. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, your knee brushed against his, a gentle gesture that seemed to convey more than words ever could. You felt your heart flutter as Jack’s knee responded in kind, pressing it purposely next to yours.

Encouraged by the subtle connection, your hands began to inch closer together. With each minute that passed, Jack’s pinky finally found its way over yours, intertwining in a silent promise of solidarity and support.

As the show progressed, you found yourselves sitting closer and closer together, the space between you shrinking until it was almost nonexistent. Jack’s arm draped casually around your shoulders, pulling you close as if to shield you from the outside world.

After the final curtain call, you and Jack exchanged a knowing glance before slipping away from the balcony and back to the others. Making up an excuse, you gave him a hug goodbye, neither of you acknowledging the recent developments that had occurred.

After you left, Jack quickly snuck backstage, Medda arching an eyebrow at Jack’s return. “I saw you up there, Romeo,” she said with a knowing smirk. “Congratulations, you finally made you move.”

Jack chuckled, his grin widening as he met her gaze. “We were just enjoying the show,” he replied nonchalantly, though the glimmer in his eyes betrayed him.

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of Medda’s lips as she studied him. “You’re a good kid, Jack,” she remarked, her tone softened by genuine fondness. “But I’ve got my eye on you. Don’t go causing a trouble, okay?”

Jack chuckled, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Who, me? Trouble? Never,” he replied with mock innocence, earning a playful swat from Medda.

“Uh-huh, sure,” she teased, though there was warmth in her laughter. “Now, run along before someone catches you sneaking around backstage. “And hey,” she said, making Jack pause his steps, “You be good to her.”

With a nod and a grin, Jack tipped an imaginary hat in Medda’s direction before disappearing into the bustling corridors of the theater. As he made his way back out into the night, a sense of contentment washed over him. Back at the lodging house, you were helping the younger girls get to bed, brushing hair, fixing sheets, the usual. Jack, on the way to his room, quickly poked his head around the corner. You looked up, your cheeks turning pink.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He spoke, his cheeky grin making an appearance.

“Goodnight, Jack.” You replied, your fingers busy braiding the youngest girl Lacey’s hair.

“Night girls,” he added, tapping the doorframe and walking away, earning a chorus of mini voices saying “night Jack” in response. He couldn’t stop smiling until well into his sleep that night, much the same as you.

Guys ending fanfics is so hard for me it’s like do I write 2000 more words or cut it off here :/

[federer7]

Newsboys admiring sporting goods, Jackson, Ohio, 1936

Photo: Theodor Jung

[highfalutin-son-of-a-gun]

“Newsies of New York City.. WE WON!!!”

125 years ago today, the newsboys of New York won their strike against Joesph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst. These kids changed the lives for the generations to come, and were more inspirational than they could’ve dreamed of. And their story made a damn good musical!

“WE BEAT ‘EM!!!”

[brooklynbadboys]

A History of Girlsies

After a rise popularity of the 'girlsies' after Newises UK introduced Brooklyn as an all-female group of Newises, I decided to look deeper into the history of newsgirls at the time.

This is only for fun and a way for me to acknowledge the women at the time who until Newsies UK, were rarely given a spotlight in Newsies media.

Late 1800s

In 1868, there were roughly 300 newgirls and 2000 newsboys living in New York, but exact numbers were hard to state as newsies were 'at all hours in all public places’

Prior to mid 1800s, many newsgirls had to dress as boys in order to bypass social prohibitions

There were newsgirls of different backgrounds, education, class and age, but most were age 8-20

Many newsgirls were expert sellers, making names for themselves, having their own territories and gaining devoted customers

Multiple sources state the intelligence of the newsgirls being higher than that of the newsboys, likely having to work more than the newsboys to make the same wage

The media at the time presented newsgirls as pretty, witty and resourceful, whilst the newsgirls described themselves as real people in unfortunate situations

People within society had opposing reports on newsgirls, as some stated them to be stylish, respectable and intelligent, whilst others stated their crudeness, and raggedness and coarseness

There are many more mixed accounts, as others report newsgirls as heroic, behaving far better than the newsboys, respecting the city more and going out of their way to help civilians

The newsgirls were widely disliked as the idea of girls working on the streets was seen as evil and it was believed that the girls would put the newsboys out of business

It was also believed that the girls would be corrupted and lose their innocence and therefore should leave the work to the boys

This led many newgirls to work in less seen areas of the city, as the newsboys ran the city, making their presence known

What was most loved about the newsboys, such as their camaraderie and hardwork, was hated about the newsgirls

The girls often faced injustices and dangers far greater than the boys. Newsgirls as young as eleven were often harassed, robbed by male street workers, abducted and assaulted. This was used in the defence of banning all newsgirls under sixteen

The New York Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children

In the late 1880s, the community disliked the newsgirls so deeply that they wanted to get the girls off the street for good. It was passed that girls under 16 were no longer allowed to sell papers

They disguised this cruelty as an act of kindness to protect the girls and guide them to a life of motherhood and domesticity

The girls listened before one day fighting back, all swarming to the streets

A few years later, another attack on the newsgirls occured due to complaints from newsboys, publishers and patrons

Newsgirls were given warnings, and if they were to return to selling papers, then and their parents would be arrested and punished severely

By the end of the 19th century as few as 12 newsgirls under 16 were left in New York City

This ban extended to the newsboys in 1899, but little consequence was given and enforcement was low, unlike the ban on newsgirls

Newsgirls in New York:

Notable New York Newsgirls

Winnie and Sadie Horn (‘the soubrette newsgirls’)

In the late 1800s, they were two of the most famous newsgirls, working from 3pm to 3am everyday

Winnie was blind in one eye and dressed eccentrically, reporting to have spoken in Shakespearean English. She would scribble quotes from literature, such as the bible and Shakespeare, on her newspapers

Winnies loyal customers ranged from the New York City mayor to Theodore Roosevelt

Winnie was known as ‘winsome Winnie’ and ‘queen of the newsies’

They stated that them and their sisters were ‘born newsgirls’

Winnie was notable and had many mentions in the papers up until her death:

Mary Welter

Marywent to school until she was 13 and wanted to continue, but she had to support her family

She sold papers at twenty-third street ferry and upwards of 10 dollars a week ($328)

She would stay focused on business when and the competing newsboys inevitably began to act up throughout the day, she would take their customers

Newsies the musical

Before Newsies UK, there were no newsgirl characters. Despite claims of characters such as Smalls being women, they were dressed as newsboys and the Smalls Broadway actress, Laurie Veldheer, stated that Smalls is a boy.

Smalls in Newsies OBC:

With characters as old as 17 (Jack Kelly), and newsgirls of over 16 being allowed to work at this time, along with evidence of newsgirls taking part in the strike, there is no reason for newsgirls to have been left out of the story. There are arguments that may be made about Brooklyn being all women and the inaccuracies of this, but I pose to that how accurate is it for the newsies to be singing, dancing, and flying.

Brooklyn in Newsies UK:

A final note: This may seem redundant after titling this post ‘the history of girlsies’, but I feel the need to point it out: ‘Newsies’ isn’t a gendered term. Newsgirls throughout history have referred to themselves as ‘newsies’. There is no need to other newsgirls and separate them from the term. They are newsies and their gender doesn’t change that.

I hope this can shed some light on newsgirls and their history, and why their stories should be heard alongside the retellings of the newsboys.

Sources:

Extra: The history of America’s girl newsies

Backstage at “newsies” with Ben fankhauser and Tommy bracco

“The newsgirl question”: competing frames of progressive era girl newsies

Newsies vs. The World

[kenandeliza]

Random Fawcett City Newsboys/Former criminals Headcanon

In Master comics/Captain Marvel Jr, there exists an organization called The Newsboys association, where Freddy is the President of that group. There are cases where Freddy helped former criminal kids to become newsboys or earn other jobs. So here's a random thought from me:

1. The former criminal newsboys have their own subgroup within the The Newsboys Association, a support group dedicated to bettering their lives from their previous habits, for example: alcohol, or perhaps kleptomaniacs. Them alongside with former criminal grown-ups [usually both Billy and Freddy are involved with the grownups] are helped by Prof. Edgewise and Doc Quartz ( who would help monitor their health and ensure their recovery.)

2. The former-criminal newsboys would go undercover on gangs and could pass along information to the Marvel Family. For example, A dope being sold on an inconspicuous place, perhaps being manufactured into candy that could potentially target other kids into addiction. Or one of them applies to be a goon of a mad scientist and reports his activity to the marvel family before he could unleash the manmade horrors beyond comprehension.

After Billy became popular through the introduction of Whiz TV, his face is plastered everywhere, so he couldn't go undercover like he used to. So, occasionally, he'd asked one of the Boys from the association.

One of the boys that usually volunteered for undercover work would be:

Rubberface, [ originally from Master Comics 118], though he is not a former criminal and has no backstory, I can add one for him in this headcanon: A young teen born with a disfigured face where he could change its shape and colors to mimic any male, rearranging it like a balloon. He's great at mimicking voices as well. He currently is the number 1 person to go to if you want him to infiltrate a group. (Sometimes Freddy would ask Baloonface to be his duplicate so that nobody is suspicious about Junior and Freddy being the same person)

Danny Hogan, aka Jolly Roger [Master Comics 35] , I could see him using his alter ego to conspire with Junior to be one of the "uncatchable" rogue gallery, he seems to always slip and avoid getting caught by junior, making him quite popular amongst criminals and gained their trust.

out of the two, only rubberface knew Captain Marvel Jr's real Identity.

3. One of the Newsboys had once purposely signed up to be dr Sivana's Goon and purposely tamper with his experiments ,When Sivana tries his new invention on Billy, it ended up shocking him instead. He would also put some ingredients by doc quartz on Dr Sivana's coffee while he's not looking just for the lolz (the midget doctor's face turned purple and he cant fool the marvel family with disguises anymore lmao)

So these are all the headcanons i have so far with the fawcett newsboys

I know it's probably boring but I like to put these out here just to remind myself ^w^

[yourlegacysnotyourstosee]

Anyways in honor of the Newsie strike anniversary, reminder that the strike was led by the disabled son of Italian immigrants. Reminder that girls were newsies as well. Reminder that MOST newsies were the children of Irish, Italian, or Russian immigrants. Quite a few were not born in America, and english was not their first language. Reminder that they were mostly catholic and jewish at a time when antisemitism and anti-catholicism was the norm. Reminder that many were disabled and homeless and sold papers in order to support their families. These kids were minorities that fought for their rights! Don’t forget that!

[lighten-up-no-one-died]

Head cannon

Jack Kelly appreciate gestures like hugs, and flowers! So if he receives flowers or gifts on his birthday, he will remember it.

[racetracks-fvckin-chair]

All i want in life is to be a silly dancing manhattan newsboy from 1899

[krist-420]

God’s Not Dead

[flintt]

GUYS WHAT THE DOOKIE THERE WAS A 2020 PRODUCTION OF NEWSIES THAT WAS IN ASL WHAT THE HOOEY HA HA IM BUGGING OUT

[youaintnothinbuta]

Hello! I know you've written a lot of Jack Kelly lately, so please disregard this if you're feeling burnt out. I was wondering if you would be in the mood to write a Jack Kelly x reader where the reader is scarier to the newsies than Spot but during the strike, she and Jack start working closely together and it's clear that she's not all that bad, just tough on people that do her dirty.

“Who would have thought?” — jack kelly x reader

Summary: you and Jack are up all night together planning the way you’re going to stop the wagons. The morning after, the wagons have successfully been stopped, and the pair of you share an intimate moment of rest, as you realise you don’t always have to protect yourself from everyone.

Pairing: jack kelly x fem!reader

Word count: 908

Warnings: none, fluff, probably some typos you know meeee

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat together in a dimly lit alley that separated Brooklyn and Manhattan, with a map spread across a couple upside down milk crates.

Jack glanced at you, his cap casting a shadow over his eyes. “So, you got a plan?”

“Why am I here, again?” You sighed.

“Because, Y/N, you want better pay too, whether you admit it or not. And people listen to you.”

You studied the map intently, tracing the routes of the wagons with your finger. “Your area’s the smallest and theres more of you, I think your boys can handle that, we should be in Queens for when the bell rings.”

Jack nodded. “We need distractions, too. Get 'em looking the other way while we make our move.”

“Next time you speak, can you make it something helpful?” You snapped, his brows furrowing in response.

Hours passed, and the alley echoed with the soft murmur of your voices, punctuated by the occasional sound of a distant shout from the newsies preparing for the confrontation. The adrenaline built, but amidst the planning, a shift occurred – a subtle transformation in your disposition.

Jack stole a glance at you, a genuine curiosity in his eyes. “You know, you're kinda nice.”

“Nice?” You repeated.

“Yeah, you’re actually not as scary as everyone says.”

You looked up from the map, meeting his gaze. The walls you'd carefully built around yourself seemed to soften, if only for a moment. “We all got our roles to play, Jack.”

Jack leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. “I've heard the stories. Brooklyn's enforcer, they call you. Meaner than Spot.”

A rare chuckle escaped your lips. “Spot's got his way of leading, I got mine. Keeps the streets in order.”

As the night wore on, the initial skepticism that Jack harbored began to dissipate. The shared purpose, the planning, and the unspoken camaraderie melted the icy reputation that preceded you.

Jack's playful banter continued, each word chipping away at the tough exterior you'd carefully crafted. “You gotta have a soft spot somewhere in you, you know.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. “Maybe, but you'll never find it.”

The atmosphere shifted as the night wore on, the impending confrontation with the wagons looming over your plans. You were up late into the night, and then early into the morning, making sure every newsie knew what the plan was, in order to actually make this strike a success.

***

As you approached the Manhattan lodging house, Jack, with his cap pulled low to shield his eyes from the early morning sunlight, greeted you with a half-smile. The adrenaline that fueled the morning’s activities still pulsed through your veins, a shared victory in your tired yet satisfied eyes.

Jack spoke first, his voice raspy from the long night. “Well, we did it. Those wagons won't be rolling through today.”

You nodded, a sense of accomplishment washing over you. “Yeah, we did do it.”

The night's successful plan to halt the wagons had taken its toll, leaving both of you fatigued and in need of a moment of respite. Jack's room offered a brief refuge, away from the clamor of all the other newsies sharing stories and reveling in the victory.

As you entered, the worn-out furniture and scattered newspapers created a cocoon of familiarity. Jack, with a reassuring smile, gestured toward his bed, teasing you slightly, “Sit down, tiger. We've earned a break.”

The weariness weighed on your shoulders, and without resisting, you sank onto Jack's bed. You and Jack exchanged a glance, the unspoken acknowledgment of shared victories and silent pride.

Jack, with a knowing smile, settled beside you, his presence offering a sense of security that allowed your guard to momentarily slip away.

As your eyes fluttered closed, your body drifted closer to his. The protective aura he exuded made it easy to surrender to the exhaustion that had accumulated throughout the night. For once, it felt like you didn't have to protect yourself. Your head gently found its way to his chest, falling asleep curled up on him.

Unbeknownst to you, Jack, too, succumbed to the weariness. The room, draped in a calm silence, cradled the two of you in a moment of reprieve.

Time slipped away as both of you rested. Yet, as the morning sunlight continued its ascent, your brain had finally caught up to you. Panic momentarily gripped you as you realised you had fallen asleep with Jack.

Startled, you jumped off of him, the remnants of sleep dissipating quickly. “I— I shouldn't have—“

But before you could finish your sentence, Jack's reassuring voice cut through your anxiety. “Hey, settle down, tough girl. Our secret. You deserve this.“

His words lifted the weight off your shoulders. Jack pulled you back into his embrace, dispelling the fear that had momentarily clouded the room. Jack's arms wrapped around you once more, holding you close as you let your eyes fall shut again. You got comfortable, laying on his body, his fingers beginning to trace patterns on your back, causing you to let out a relaxed sigh.

“Who would have thought? Your soft spot is here, in my bed.” He whispered, teasing you.

“Wrong. I don’t have one, remember.” You mumbled, a small smile tugging on your lips.

“Yeah, sure.” Jack laughed.

[miryum]

You know I love you (Spot Conlon x Reader)

This has been sitting in my drafts forever

Warnings: Not proof-read, a sentence about a fist-fight, bruising

Remy tugged on your skirt. “Hey- Hey Y/n?” His voice was quiet and nervous.

“Yeah, bud?” Something was off in the usually lively and energetic boy. You scooped him up, bringing him to eye level. 

Remy looked down, avoiding your gaze. “Could I please have one of your apples?” 

“Of course,” you walked over to the small kitchen in the Brooklyn boarding house and picked an apple off of the counter. “Why? Did you spend all your money on toys again?” 

“Um, no.” Remy said, “I lost it.”

“You lost your money?” You frowned. Every newsboy bag had a special pouch for coins, its sole purpose being not to lose the pennies and nickels. “Where’s your bag?”

“I lost that too,” Remy mumbled.

With those words, you immediately knew that he was lying. The first thing a newsboy learns is to not lose his bag. It holds his papers and earned money- the most important things in a newsboy's life. What didn’t help your suspicion was that every younger boy was paired with an older, tougher, more experienced one. You made sure of that early on, pestering Spot until he relented (to be truthful, Spot had caved easily). Someone should’ve been watching Remy. 

“Who was with you?” You asked him. “Was it Patches?” Remy nodded and you gave a nod back. “Okay, you stay here and eat your apple. I gotta go talk to Patches really quickly.”

“Okay!” Remy looked happier now that he was out of your scrutiny and concern.

You scanned the room, seeing Patches stretched out on a couch, listening to Cal read a book. You weaved through the boys, hopping over legs and stepping over arms. You loved your newsie family and you would do anything for them. The scene of everyone relaxing after a long day warmed your heart. You knew that these boys would do anything for you and each other. 

You sat down on Patches’s legs, making him groan and kick your side. “I come in peace,” you said. 

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. “What’s up?”

“You sold with Remy today, right?” He nodded in confirmation. You continued, “did you see him lose his bag?”

“He lost his bag?” Patches sat up, now invested in the conversation. “He told me that he gave it to Crackers for safekeeping.”

“Crackers was selling on Clermont Street,” you said slowly. “Weren’t you guys selling by Hicks and Clark?” 

Patches nodded, watching the concern on your face grow. “When did he tell you this?” You felt like you were interrogating the poor boy, but at the same time, you needed to know what happened. 

“I know Remy had his bag at four thirty. I remember him coming up to me and telling me about a guy who paid him double. I didn’t see him again until five.” 

“I’m going to try and get him to tell me the truth,” you stated. “Thanks Patches.” 

“Anytime.” 

You went back to the kitchen, finding Remy sitting on the counter, eating the apple to the core. But, before you could make it to the small child, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Knowing there was only one boy who would dare do that, you relaxed into your boyfriend. 

“Hey, Spotty,” you said quietly. 

“Hey, doll,” Spot replied softly. “How was your day?”

“You were with me for most of it,” you pointed out, referencing how Spot only let you sell with him.

“Yeah, but I got pulled away at the end.” Indeed, Fisher had needed Spot’s help with something before the selling day had ended, leaving you alone to pawn off the last few of your papers.

“It was alright,” you turned in his arms, leaving a kiss on his cheek. “But I’m a bit worried for Remy.”

“Why? What happened?” Spot’s brows furrowed, getting that telltale expression that meant he was stepping back into his King of Brooklyn role.

“That’s the thing; I don’t know.” You explained, “Remy said he lost his selling bag, but Patches said Remy told him he gave it to Crackers for safekeeping. But I know Remy. The kid would never lose or give away his bag. You know how protective he is over it.”

“Cause he carries his teddy bear in it.” Spot nodded, ending your thoughts.

“Exactly.”

“So what do you think happened?” Spot asked you.

You sighed and began speaking, “a little while ago, Lemon came to me saying how a group of older thugs had stolen her bag. I had her sell with Slugger for a bit, and the problem went away. Do you think that the same thugs could’ve stolen Remy’s bag?”

Spot hummed, “you’ve certainly got a memory about you, doll. It’s definitely not a bad idea. I’ll go talk to Lemon and Slugger about it and you talk to Remy?” 

“Deal,” you agreed.

“Pleasure doing business with you, doll.” Spot smirked and pressed a kiss to your lips before sauntering off to find Lemon and Slugger.

You chuckled before turning back to Remy and handing the kid another apple. “You’re hungry,” you commented.

“Yeah…” Remy looked shyly away.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “We all pitch in to buy this food.” After a moment, you quietly said, “I know you didn’t lose your bag, Remy. What really happened?”

Remy didn’t meet your eye, giving a small shrug.

“Was it some boys?” You asked, “did they steal it from you? Like they did Lemon?”

Remy chewed on his lip, turning the apple over in his small hands. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “They cornered me and called me small and weak.” His fingers clenched into fists. “Then they stole my bag. It’s happened four times.”

“Four times?” You knelt down so you could meet his eye. “Remy, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because they said I couldn’t fight my own fight. I’d be proving them right if I told you,” Remy mumbled. 

You sighed, feeling terrible and squeezed the boy into a tight hug. “Remy,” You whispered. “Don’t be afraid to tell me anything. Especially if people are bullying you.”

“But what if they come back?” Remy wondered, “What if they do this again?” He lifted his shirt slightly to show you a large, ugly bruise. Immediately, a rage boiled in your chest and your jaw clenched. “They did that?” You growled.

Remy nodded slowly, frightened by your change in demeanour.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down in front of the scared child. “It’s gonna be okay,” you told him. “We’re gonna get your money back from those boys and make them pay.” 

“Really? But how?”

You smiled stiffly, trying to disguise your hatred for the punks by a thinly veiled grin. “Don’t worry about that,” you said. “All you have to do is keep on selling.”

Remy’s head bobbed up and down happily. “Thank you so much, Y/n!” He hugged you tightly and you reciprocated the action. He then pulled away, his problem suddenly fixed and out of mind as only a six- year old could. 

Heart still burning with hatred for the thugs that messed with Remy, you knew it was now time to call upon the people who would stand by you no matter what- your newsies.

**

Remy cried out in his squeaky voice, “Read all about the car crash that killed dozens! Police are convinced it was murder!”

“Hello, squirt,” a deep voice laughed from behind Remy. “Sell any papers today?”

Remy gulped loudly and slowly turned around, gripping his bag tighter. “Wha-what do you guys want?”

“I think you know what we want,” the lead man growled, stepping up along with his group of ten or fifteen boys. 

“I-I’m not giving you my money!” Remy stomped his foot. 

“Oh really?” The leader laughed loudly. “What are you gonna do? Fight us?” The rest of the boys chuckled along with their leader.

“Well, no,” Remy admitted. “But this time, I have friends.” You stepped out from around a corner. 

The goons glanced around at one another before bursting out in short, loud, ugly guffaws. “I’m sorry?” The leader snickered out, “A girl is gonna beat us up?”

“I’m going to ignore your misogynistic comment, even though you probably don’t know what that word means, and even though I could kick your ass, just to scare you into never coming near Remy again, I brought my boyfriend. You may know him as the King of Brooklyn?” 

Spot, along with his cavalry of newsies appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Spot snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you close. “Where you messin’ with my doll?” He asked, knowing whichever way they answered, he was gonna soak either way.

“You looking for a fight?” The leader bit back. 

Spot shrugged, smirking. “Maybe. But I’ll let you off if you don’t come near my newsies again.”

One of the cronies grabbed the leader and whispered something harsh to him. The leader scoffed, but said, “Fine. We won’t bother your pathetic newsies again.” 

“And my girl?” Spot’s thumb drew circles on your waist.

“Never said anything about her,” the leader smiled tauntingly. 

You glanced at Spot to see the muscles in his jaw tighten. “Don’t,” you whisper to him. 

“Doll,” Spot drawled, swinging a look down at you, grinning brilliantly. “I have to.” And with that, Spot stepped forward and punched the leader across the jaw. The newsies cheered and rushed forward, intent on standing up for one of their own. The bullies quickly ran away after a few hits. You took Spot’s hand in yours and thumbed the split knuckles. Before you could chide him however, Spot simply said, “You know I love you.”

“Yeah,” you smiled and kissed his cheek. “I do.”