#newsies as things my friends have said

[artemis-lynn]

Newsies as things my friends and I have said: Part 1

Race, trying to convince Davey to confess his feelings to Jack:

In the words of my great great something grandpa..."You do or you do not. There is no try."

Davey: Wha-

Race: Shut up, Yoda's my grandpa. That's why I'm special as frick, go with it.

[triple-u-vvv]

yeah, I guess I’ll hop on the bandwagon

Newsies characters as things me and my friends (and cast of our production) have said or done! I might end up adding a few drawings, too.

Jack: I don’t know who John Smith was, but from my research he’s either a YouTuber or a wrestler.

Snyder: this show would end a lot quicker if we gave Jack a gun.

Henry and Jack: (testing theories about Snyder being able catch Jack if he was on heelies)

Race: (finds old rat costume in an old prop bin) IMA FURRY!

Jack: Albert got possessed by Cthulhu last night.

Crutchie: really?

Davey: yeah, we got the entire thing on video. He walked out of the downstairs bathroom with shreds of toilet paper all over his face.

Jack: he kidnapped Race after that.

Race: HE KIDNAPPED ME.

Mush: I have an accordion that’s two times as big as me, and it’s marinating in the dining room.

Les: hola! Soy Les! Can you say ‘Les knows where you live’?

Finch, during rehearsals: whatever you do, DONT go into room 105. That’s where the boys are. Go into 107 instead, even though it gives off a creepy aura.

Albert: (becomes Michael Jackson during choreo)

Crutchie: (uses his crutch as a machine gun constantly, Jack and Albert play along and it ends up turning into a fake fight scene in rehearsals)

Katherine: THE ONE PIECE!!!! THE ONE PIECE IS REAL!!!!

Specs: look, Jojo! A type writer!

Jojo: (genuinely panicking about the aforementioned typewriter hitting him in the head)

Romeo: Is your type emo girls?

Crutchie: DAVEY. WEVE RAN AN ENTIRE MILE AROUND THIS MALL.

Jack: IM PRETTY SURE THAT ITS NOT HERE.

Davey: YOU CANT TELL ME WHAT TO DO. IM GOING TO FIND JAMES!

Sarah: what is that?

Katherine: it says ‘man scent’.

Sarah: (smells the candle) that doesn’t smell good. And if I out of all people say that something smells bad, take no chances.

Spot: ok, who’s here?

Hotshot: MANHATTANS HERE

Elmer: FLUSHINGS HERE

Finch: RICHMONDS HERE

Specs: WOODSIDES HERE

Tommy: SOS DA BRONX

Spot: I didn’t know how I didn’t expect that.

Oscar: I will not hesitate to punch you if you do that one more time

Albert: DISNEY PRINCESS MUSICAL IN HONOR OF JACK KELLY

Jack: da horse’s name was Friday!

Jack: (talking about horses) ok. What’s this thing called?

Crutchie: that’s a bit.

Jack: wow. How did you know that?

Crutchie: oh, I don’t know, maybe because you annoy me with this crap all of the time and point out every inaccuracy in every movie and every game?! JUST LET ME ENJOY ZELDA IN PEACE.

Les: can I use a swear word?

Race: sure, fine by me.

Les: (says a word that’s only on the verge of being a swear)

Race: you know what, you’re too innocent.

Romeo: we should buy those matching jackets. We can be like those football guys from high school musical!

Katherine: DONT BE A MAN!!!!

Davey: I cant smile.

Sarah: well, what are you waiting for? Give it your best shot.

Davey: (awkwardly grins)

Les: not gonna lie, you look like you’re being held at gunpoint.

Finch: today, I dislocated my right buttcheek

[dear-ao3]

Question for the mods....

HOW IN THE FUCK DID YOU MEET???

Like what???

How??

I am so god damn curious about you two. I wanna study yall under a microscope lol

Also ngl kinda envious of how close of friends you two seem to be. (Being an introverted shy af mofo sucks lmao)

I would actually probably read a whole ass book or watch a sitcom or something of the seemingly ever present weird-ass shit that seems to happen on a day-by-day basis.

/gen /lh /nf /pos

2018 newsies fandom. we weren't overly close but we bonded over race and albert a little and then katya dropped off the face of the earth for about a year.

during 2020 lockdown we both independently got into the witcher fandom and somehow ran into eachother again and had the fingers pointing OH MY GOD Y O U !!! moment in our dms. we bonded over hating jaskier. during this time we realized we were both dancers and katya was looking at dance colleges, i was already in college for dance and since it was lockdown and we couldn't go anywhere i told katya my experience auditioning at places to give him a good idea of places. and then i broke every internet safety rule known to man and said hey what if you had applied to my college but didnt know it?? and then one thing led to another and i dished out all the tea on my school. (only After that did we face reveal and give eachother our names lol) and then katya applied. mostly as a joke. until it wasnt a joke because that school gave katya a shit load of money and actually had stuff katya wanted to do. katya ended up coming to one of my zoom ballet classes and it took everything we had to not loose our shit on camera.

during this time we mostly kept eachother sane in lockdown writing witcher fanfic, and sending eachother awful thirst traps on instagram to pitbull music. one of our awful bits was using the dilf filter to make bad frat boy edits.

come august of 2021 we both moved into college. the same college. in the same building. it was wild. i pinched myself several times in shock. we went on a walk around campus with some worms on strings and were like what the hell how did we get here.

we continued to hang out and did weird insane things together. we took a class on the french revolution together where i had to put up with katya and fennec awkwardly flirting (read: making finger guns at eachother).

and then, since i was 2 years older, i was graduating and was going to stay in the area for a job and was like hey. what if we got an apartment together? and then we did. several adults agreed to this. idk why they let us. but now we live together in a real life apartment and we haven't even killed eachother yet. neither of our parents know that we met online. each of them have a different fake story as to how we know eachother and we really just hope they are never in the same room long enough to ask eachother about it. but its insane. 12/10 would recommend.

katya wanted me to include old tumblr screenshots of us talking, heres what i found from circa 2020:

we've always been like this lol

and heres some ancient greatest hits from instagram, i dont have context and trust me you dont want it:

every now and then the two of us look at eachother and go. how the fuck did we end up here??? (we have no idea)

[peter-pantomime]

Captain America Fic Recs, Part 2

Part 1

Steve/Bucky

A Tree Grows In Brooklyn series

"You keep asking me what I want," Bucky manages, eventually. "But on any given day, my number one priority is to get through the day alive and myself, and to do it without killing anyone. Everything else is extra." Each work is standalone.

Embers, Not Ashes

“You okay?” The outline of Steve’s hands, balled into fists inside his pockets, looks too sharp despite the wool barrier. His nice pants. Standing there in his fucking church clothes and all it makes Bucky want is to walk over there and rub him through them until he’s in just as much of a state as Bucky is. The laugh that catapults out of Bucky’s mouth tastes like bile. “Nope.”

The Dud series

When he was eight or nine, Bucky Barnes was the secret sworn enemy of the dud newsie.

Mortal

Steve is ten years old and he’s a mortal sin walking.

The Hundred Year Playlist series

Steve and Bucky, start to finish. "Come on, pal, it's me. Take another hundred years if you want, I'll still be here."

Sharp, Metallic

The day after leaving the hospital, still woozy on the massively high quantities of morphine they gave him, Steve dreams about a metal arm around his throat and warm, salty fingers in his mouth, just the way he likes. The next day, there are plate marks on his throat, fading by the minute, and his breathing skyrockets as he touches them with reverence. Steve gets fished out of the Potomac, and Bucky comes to him.

Accidentally on Purpose

Bucky turns toward him, sliding his hand onto Steve’s hip as he mutters a lazy “G’night” and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. It takes him by surprise, and he barely has time to register Bucky’s half-closed eyes and the warmth of whiskey-ripe breath on his lips, before it’s over. After Bucky drunkenly kisses Steve by accident, it just seems to keep on happening, until it's not so much by accident anymore.

Exactly Like We Were

“You can make a fight out of anything,” Bucky says, and affects a laugh, badly. “You can make a metaphor a fight. What the hell do anesthetics have to do with anything?” Steve almost blurts out, Art is an anesthetic! But at the last second, he gets a hold of himself.

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained)

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips. Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions— “Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.” Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen

Bucky Barnes and the Great Sexuality Crisis of 1938.

Will There be Any Freight Trains in Heaven?

It's summer of 1934, a quarter of all Americans are unemployed, and record numbers of migrant workers are hopping freight trains to seek their fortune out west. What are two boys from Brooklyn to do? or, Steve and Bucky ride the rails, become socialists, and fall in love, in no particular order.

how cold steel is (and keen with hunger)

There is a man who lives inside the Soldier’s head. The Soldier does not know much about the man. The man is an American, and he fought in one of the few twentieth-century wars the Soldier had not—if only because he did not exist yet. At some point, a war pitted their home countries against each other, but that did not put much of a damper on things. They are good friends. Here is how the Winter Soldier dies: the resurrection of James Barnes. An account of Bucky's time in Bucharest.

A red fish that fits just right in the hand

Steve asked, "Is it James now?" and he said, "No, Bucky." But no one else calls him that.

Howling Commandos series

Jacques' grand-père had kept a lock of his wife's hair, after she had died. He had worn it around his bony, age-spotted wrist, the way he had worn her smile in the reflection of his eyes.

dead hearts and midnight cowards

"Do you want to get out of here?" he adds then, all in a rush; and Bucky's not sure he meant to say it but he knows what his pulse is doing and he knows what his dick is doing besides, and he knows that Steve is looking like that and that he's looking at him like that, too. Bucky swallows to think about pressing his mouth to him, any part of him, every part of him, if they can only find some space.

Everybody is Supposed to be Dead

“…there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds.” In 1944, Bucky Barnes falls off a train into the Alps, missing and presumed dead. Months later, Steve Rogers nosedives a plane into the arctic. In 2010, the Winter Soldier project is uncovered by S.H.E.I.L.D., and Bucky Barnes is found alive. Three years later, Steve Rogers’ frozen body is found in the ocean.

Impossible Measurements

"Steve, I love you."

In the Sight of Green Carnations

"What happened between you and Jimmy?" He caught the flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Bucky had jumped upright, was twisted round in the bed to look at him. He looked pale. "What?" In which Bucky has a terrible day, and Steve manages to accidentally say exactly the right thing. Despite not knowing what the fuck is going on.

All The Angels and The Saints

In which Steve Rogers loses God and finds God and loses God, and also: Bucky.

Not Easily Conquered series

In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore. In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter. In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

Practice Makes Perfect

And it’s just. It’s too much. Weeks of pain and months of missing Steve and his mouth and the stupid shit that comes out of it; years of molding himself to his back at night and pretending there’s nothing else to it apart from sharing warmth; a decade of his stomach twisting with the foolish desire to make Steve laugh. It's August and sweltering when Steve asks, out of nowhere, if Bucky wants to try kissing. Just to see what it's like. Bucky then spends far, far too many years pretending it didn't mean anything at all.

cascades.

“Holy shit,” Howard says, crackling through the speakers. “You alive in there?” Lying is a sin, of course, but Steve’s not sure what else he can do. He’s already lied to the government and Bucky and God Almighty; and himself, himself most of all. He ought to tell the truth. That he’s not quite what they hoped for. That perhaps they should put him back into the ocean. “Probably,” he says, instead, listening to Howard’s tinny laughter; and waits for the blast doors to unlock.

not just the carcass, but the spark

Time stopped mattering to him long ago, except in units of distance: how many days' walk they had to go, how many days until their next orders. The air smells nice; it's even warm enough that one of the windows has been propped open on the cabin. Bucky remembers cracking open the window to the fire escape in those early days of April and smelling the Brooklyn morning with something like hope.

Remscéla

“It’s going to rain,” says Steve. Bucky squints out the window. He sways slightly as the train jolts on its tracks, but doesn’t reach for the handhold. Through the trusses, the sky outside is gray, reflecting oily and leaden on the East River. The air feels heavy, warm for late October. “It’s not going to rain.” Steve snorts. He can’t help smiling. “It is. You know it is. Not everything in the world just arranges itself according to the will of Bucky Barnes.”

Ill With Want

Bucky pretends to be asleep when Steve crawls into bed, too tired to feel guilty over the quivery pleasure that settles in his belly when Steve’s arm brushes his. Steve falls asleep in about five minutes flat, unconsciously wedging his icy toes against Bucky’s leg. Bucky doesn’t move him. He drifts to sleep in a comfortable haze and tries not to wonder where this feeling was two hours ago when he had Marie in his lap.

tezeta (nostalgia)

Steve Rogers is a terrible tourist, and a lousy house guest. Bucky Barnes waters his plants and tries his best. Set in that sweet spot between Black Panther and Infinity War, in a little valley in Wakanda

Painted in Indigo

“You should be careful of that one,” Mr. Hendrickson says, with a nod to Bucky outside the window. “It ain’t right. Looking at you all the time as he does. The way he should be looking at girls.” Steve laughs, because damn, but what a ridiculous idea. Or, five times Steve caught Bucky looking at him, and the one time he looked first.

Shangri-La

Steve gets money, still won't move in with Bucky, and somehow totally misses that Queer Brooklyn is an option.

three white horses

Steve, it's not your fault, Sam had tried to say, before Steve cut him off, and Steve doesn't think that's untrue so much as it's irrelevant; fault's got nothing to do with it. It's just—wrong. It's wrong. Steve couldn't wrap his head around it the first time, how wrong it was. Steve should have gone first. Was supposed to. Bucky could have carried on without Steve, he knows, but Steve without Bucky is a zero sum. There should never be a world that Steve is in and Bucky isn't.

The Interrogation

There's a story and it goes like this.

Through Cities And Churches

A tale of many cities and churches and two boys. Happy 100th Birthday, Bucky Barnes: March 10, 2017.

the long slide from kingdom to kingdom

They want you to love the whole damn world but you won't, you want it all narrowed down to one fleshy man in the bath, who knows what to do with his body, with his hands. -Richard Siken, Driving, Not Washing.

The Problem Solver

This wasn't what Steve wanted from him.

winter wheat, sunflower peat

In the dead of the night, a man pulls over for a hitchhiker.

Welcome Home, Son series

Her face is warm but neutral—she is a kind person, he thinks, but also a professional. She would not think twice about killing him if he tried to strike. “My name is Ayo,” she says. He hesitates when he realizes she is waiting for him to respond. He doesn’t deserve the name Bucky anymore. He still answers to Soldat—the way a beaten dog answers to a jerked chain, but it sure as hell can get his attention in a hurry. But that’s no name for a person, and he is determined to become one. (In Wakanda, two wounded soldiers begin to heal.)

[dcdreamblog]

Watched a clip of an interview with Ted "Wildcat" Grant, and he mentioned the he once "swam two miles with three bullets in his lung", and it hit me. Man was not just a professional boxer, but for years was the reigning *Heavyweight Champion of the World*. How'd he hide or explain away the inevitable physical result of spending every night fighting heavily armed gangsters, spies, saboteurs and supervillains with his bare hands, when he was routinely walking into a ring with no shirt on in front of huge crowds, getting inspected by refs and whatever you call the guys who take care of fighter's injuries, having his photo taken, etc.?

You just answered your own question. He was Heavyweight Champion of the World. He always came in at weight before the fight and he played it clean as a whistle in the ring. Were YOU gonna question him in front of the crowd, or where a sports reporter might hear you?

(The famous photo of Grant's final victory against Cassius Clay before professional retirement, Las Vegas)

Beyond that, Ted Grant's personal life was (assumed to be) a known quantity. He was a roughneck from a harsh part of Gotham and he retained a strong sense of "street principles". Even out of his uniform he was often seen getting into fights with catcallers, deadbeats and anyone else who offended his sense of decency on the street. More than once he came upon a man striking his wife or child and beat said man into a hospital bed in broad daylight.

If you were the ref, or the reporters, any new scar or bruise that couldn't be explained as the price of his living COULD be explained away as Ted Grant being Ted Grant even away from the camera. I am going to list for you actual things Ted Grant did, in his civvies, during his period of active sportsmanship. Not one of these is a lie.

He got so offended at a beat cop shaking down newsies for protection money that he started a fight. He fought said cop, his partner and 4 other beat cops who joined in. And won.

He saw an off duty sailor, who had half a head of height on Grant, refuse to leave two women alone. He put the sailor's head through a table and scared off half a dozen other service men just by telling them who he was.

He crashed through the front window of a hotel lobby because he was trying to strangle a reporter who called him a "Nip Lover" for speaking out against Japanese internment.

AND, my personal favorite

He walked past a bar known to be a hang out for the local Klan chapter. Heard one of them on the bar's porch call him a "White Man's inspiration", walked directly up to the bar, split the oak door off its hinges with one punch and thrashed all 29 men inside walking away with only a black eye and bruises from his right shoulder to elbow where one of them broke a METAL BAR STOOL across it. He then made a habit of bringing black friends and ring staff to said bar, daring anyone to make a fight out of it (which they often did, to repeated results) until the bar shut down. Where he then used the pot from his next fight to buy the land and donate it to the NAACP. If you've ever been to the Grant Rec Center that does after school for the north end of The Narrows in Gotham, now you know why its called that.

No one questioned Grant showing up with a shiner and a crooked tooth, they just contented themselves with the knowledge the the other guy A. deserved it and B. got it worse.

[fangirlhehe]

Newsies as things people have said to me (friends, family, etc.) part 2

Jack: thinking about you makes me forget about my dead parents

Spot: Sometimes, I don’t understand homophobia. Then, I have a conversation with you and it all makes sense.

Race: If you do that, I’m gonna soak ya. You should totally do it.

Katherine: I want to do the Wizard Of Oz so I can play Dorothy!

Davey: But you are Dorothy!

Katherine: what..?

Davey: ‘Cause I’m a friend of Dorothy!!

Albert: Guys, I’m the ghost of freakmas past

Davey: I wasn’t scared, I was just… overstimulated…

Sarah: By what? All six of Jack’s abs?

Katherine: Hey, Davey…

Davey: *aggressive sigh* yes?

Katherine:… Jack’s six pack of abs…

Davey: SHUT UP-

@ey-theys-was-coronas you will recognize a LOT of these lol

[knockoff-conlon]

this newsies vs. cats drama is so fucking ridiculous, can i say?? people, my friends, who are children, getting hate from grown adults for being a little immature over a poll is so fucking stupid.

adult cats fans bullying minor newsies fans is the dumbest thing i have ever seen. you are making children feel bad for not having real world morality and maturity all the time. you're making them feel bad for just being children. you're making them feel bad because them acting like children makes you annoyed. what the fuck is the point.

if you don't like what they're saying. block them. do not spam them with hate and tell them how they're ruining fandom because that's so terrible of you to do. if they have personally offended you because they said "how is newsies losing to cats" BLOCK THEM AND LEAVE THEM THE FUCK ALONE THEY'RE KIDS WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH YOU??

they weren't even that rude. they didn't say "liking cats makes you an awful person" or "cats is so awful, it's the worst musical ever made" or any personal attack on cats fans. with some bad phrasing, they pretty much said "something i perceive as worse than newsies is winning and that makes me upset." BIG WHOOP

you perceive newsies as worse than cats, that's why you voted for cats. we don't all have the same thoughts or ideas or opinions and bullying someone until they cry or leave tumblr or just have their fandom experience ruined is stupid.

my friends are getting the crap bullied out of them because they made a little mistake. you are an adult. it's up to you to move on with your life instead of sending anon hate to FOURTEEN YEAR OLD CHILDREN

THEY. ARE. KIDS.

GET OVER IT

[foap-mactavish]

newsies as things my friends have said!

Jack: I just got cockblocked by Shakespeare

Race: Your in the cult you stay in the cult

Crutchie: What’s your sexuality? Vibin’

Spot: No let me beat myself up

Albert: You said your AirPods were dead now you're listening to shrek without me

Romeo: I’m going to pick you up romantically and throw you at the mirror

Jack: I’m good he’s good I’m trying to think of other things I’ve shoved up my ass

Katherine: Why are they prancing around in their little tights I can see their calf muscles

Davey: Thank you for serenading Me

Pulitzer (mocking the newsies): I’m a poor orphan boy with no hand eye coordination please by a newspaper from me

Les: The boys just started kissing

Medda: Jeff what the fuck are you playing at Jeff

Oscar: I will carry you away… by your legs

[mushiimune]

any javid crumbs you can spare for a poor orphan pls

Hm. ok🫡

This is from the last Newsies writing doc I worked on, circa October 2023. It's an unfinished little one-shot, and goes on for a while longer than this, but who would I be if I didn't cut it off before it starts getting good?

—

Untitled - 2023

“I just happened to be in the area” my ass, David thinks, but doesn’t say, preoccupied with hurrying out of the schoolyard as fast as possible. He doesn’t want Jack anywhere near that awful place and those awful people, both for his own good and for the sake of David’s pride a little, too. The illusion that school isn’t hell on Earth for him hasn’t yet been shattered in Jack’s eyes, and David’s fully intent on keeping it that way for as long as possible. He doesn’t want Jack to worry about him, either.

Once they’re far enough away that David considers them in the clear, he relaxes significantly. Jack notices the change in his demeanor, but makes a point of not mentioning it. It isn’t often anymore that he gets to see David, hence why he loitered in the area for the better part of an hour waiting for the school bell to ring just to talk to his friend for a while. The last thing he wants is to dominate the conversation with uncomfortable topics, no matter how curious he is about why exactly the second emotion that played over his face when he caught sight of Jack at the gates was horror.

They talk about things that have nothing to do with school. Jack complains offhandedly about the chill, to which David scoffs.

“I could name a thing or two that doesn’t do you any favors,” said David.

“Oh, yeah? Go on, then.”

David shook his head. “You’re not gonna listen to me anyway. What’s the point of giving you good, honest advice if you’re not going to take it?”

“If that’s really what you thought, Dave, you’d never speak a word to me again.”

David rolled his eyes, unable to bite back a smile.

“If you REALLY want to know, I think you could dress a little more according to the temperature.”

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” Jack’s brow creased and he looked down at himself.

“Nothing,” David corrected quickly. “It’s just… here, stop for a second.”

—

[racetrackhigginsscigar]

newsies quotes but it’s things me and my friends have said.

jack: you don’t get to be mean to him… only i get to be mean to him

race: how about die?

————————————————————————

crutchie: STOP ARGUING AND EAT THE DAMN SNACKS I MADE.

—————————————————————————————————————

race: i love you so much

spot: shut up there’s people around

—————————————————————————————————————

specs: when i was five, i accidentally pushed this old lady into a lamp post and then i cried for a week straight.

albert: you didn’t do it on purpose?

i would’ve done it on purpose…

—————————————————————————————————————

davey: i’m not gay but if i wa-

jack: WAIT YOU’RE NOT GAY??????

[acourtofkindness]

Thank you for sending in all the stories, here you can find the collection! Some of these are one-shots, some are longer stories, just click your way through them and also check out their other fics!

Five Minutes to Midnight

by @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship What if the bond snapped for Feyre when it did for Rhys? How will their journey change when they are more open and honest about things with each other.

become a stranger (whose laugh i could recognize anywhere)

by @belaBellissima “I hate you,” she said, voice breaking halfway through. The word felt so little compared to what she truly felt, the mix of hopelessness and grief and loss and fury, betrayal and desire for revenge. But it didn’t matter that the words wouldn’t come, because the feelings did. And Feyre shoved them at him, glad to see Rhysand bodily recoil, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to get away. Good. Or: The author asking how angsty can I make a canon verse amnesia!au? pretty damn angsty.

Foolish Fire

@DreamlandReader (ao3) Since the birth of their son, Feyre and Rhysand have been living in a comfortable bubble of domestic bliss, but when a freshly mated Elain ropes them into a family camping trip for Lucien's birthday, they must try to embrace adventure once again. The Erebus forest is, however, not as safe as it seems, and when Feyre and Rhys become separated from the rest of the group, they soon find that the tales of dangerous monsters prowling the woods are more than mere stories. In fact, around every corner are devious creatures and tricky beasts, just waiting for them to make a mistake.

I Knew You Were Trouble

by @rosanna-writer Every hunter had a story about the Goatman, tales whispered around campfires of a strange creature with the body of a man and the hooves and horns of a goat, the reason animals were sometimes found shredded to pieces and for the warnings to be back from the woods before dark. Black fur, they said, dark as a moonless night, and strange, otherworldly violet eyes. Feyre Archeron believed it was all a crock of shit.

Red Earth & Pouring Rain

by @separatist-apologist When Feyre's father tries to set her up with one of his high society friends' sons, Feyre does the only thing that makes sense in the moment: she fakes a Scottish fiánce. Writing him letters detailing her escapades, Feyre never expects anyone to read them. But when a mysterious uncle leaves her and her sisters three scattered castles, Feyre's forgotten fiánce appears on her doorstep, determined to make an honest woman of her yet.

Paint Again

by @reverie-tales Set in a modern alternate universe, Feyre is struggling to paint because of her grief. That is, until she receives an unexpected email that reawakens her love of painting.

Love at First Sight's For Suckers

by @rosanna-writer Rhysand had a reputation. A big reputation. But fortunately for Feyre, a newsie selling papers on the streets of Velaris, tabloid gossip about the handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir means business is booming. That is, until the city's newspaper magnates get greedy, Feyre finds herself an unwitting labor leader at the center of a strike, and Rhys becomes an unexpected ally...

Good Luck Charm

by @sweetvillaindarlinggod Feyre finds out Tamlin is cheating on her, and decides the president of his fraternity, who they both hate, is the perfect way to get revenge. Unfortunately, she's not exactly prepared for what she's signed up for.

Hate Me Instead

by @popjunkie42 Rhysand and Feyre both struggle with her first visit to the Night Court in this alternative version to early events in ACOMAF. What if Rhysand had stuck around for more for lessons and both of them were making rather poor decisions? From Rhys's POV.

Starry Eyes Sparking Up My Darkest Night

by @itsthedoodle We had danced, all of us together. And when the night had shifted toward dawn and the music became soft and honeyed, I had let Rhys take me in his arms and dance with me, slowly, until the other guests had left, until the gold disc of the sun gilded Velaris.

Bejeweled

@thesistersarcheron Every court has their own Great Rite with unique, ancient traditions. The Night Court’s priestesses have played coy with Rhysand since he inherited the throne last year about what imbuing the land with his power really means; all they tell him is that he is meant to spend the night in the Night Court’s mines dripping in ceremonial jewels while everyone else gets to attend the orgy without him. He doesn’t expect to find Feyre, a faerie made of crystal who leads him on a chase deeper and deeper into the mines as the Rite’s magic overcomes him.

we will be everything we say

by @tunaababee The gang is back together for Cassian's birthday, Rhys seeing Feyre for the first time in a little while. Things don't quite go as smoothly as anyone hopes.

The Little Tiger

by @witch-and-her-witcher Nyx runs away from home. There's a misunderstanding between mother and son.

As the River Flows

by @the-lonelybarricade "As Feyre lamented quietly over the misfortune of her life, there, in the marketplace, she heard a merchant instruct to its patron: Place a butterfly wing under your tongue before you sleep, and you will dream of your true love." Maybe my favourite Feysand fic!! Miscommunication that makes me want to scream. A+ Feyre and Rhys characterization. And a deep, deep love under it all with a backstory that makes me sees stars.

Blossoming in Winter

by @popjunkie42 Five hundred years before Amarantha’s reign Under the Mountain, Prythian and the Continent were thrust into a brutal war to abolish human slave lands and the threat of the King of Hybern. Tamlin, third son of the High Lord of Spring, has rebelled against his father to fight on behalf of the human-faerie alliance. A fae archer in his personal guard, Feyre Archeron, makes a foolhardy decision at great personal cost that changes the tide of the entire war. Rescued from torture at the hands of General Amarantha, Prince Rhysand has been sent to High Lord Thesan’s Hall of Healing in the Dawn Court. Frustrated, immobile and in disgrace with his father, Rhysand meets a fellow patient in healing who helps him see the days ahead, beyond the brutality of war. But can he make her see that future for herself?

A Court of Thorns and Roses AU set during the first Hybern war, inspired by the story of Faramir and Eowyn in Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Lavender Skies

by @reverie-tales Rhysand is alone in his study in the House of Wind, recollecting Feyre's visit to the Weaver's cottage. He discovers that his mother's ring might not be the only thing Feyre has recovered.

Of The Archer And The Dark

by @thesistersarcheron She is his mate, his mate, his mate. Feyre Archeron is the youngest member of the Fae nobility trapped in Amarantha’s court Under the Mountain, and she’s never known anything else; nineteen years ago, she was the last of three sisters born in the dark prison. She has never seen the stars, tasted fruit fresh from the vine, or set foot in her home court. Now, dragged before the High Queen of Prythian in her father’s last-bid attempt to settle his debts by selling his daughters’ hands in marriage, Feyre faces scrutiny from all sides: the wicked queen herself, who takes a particular interest in securing an advantageous match for her; the leaders of the rebellion against Amarantha, who already paid the bloody price of failure once; and the cruel High Lord of the Night Court, who seems to enjoy nothing more than dismantling the defenses Feyre has spent years building against monsters like him.

Finding Bryaxis

by @reverie-tales Rhys and Feyre go and search for Bryaxis. Post A Court of Wings and Ruin. Imagine ACOFAS and ACOSF didn't happen.

Traitors Never Win

by @separatist-apologist When Feyre Archeron's father promises she'll marry notorious crime boss Rhysand Moreno, Feyre will do anything to get out of the arrangement...including framing him for murder. Rhysand isn't about to let her go so easily.

High Tide Came And Brought You In

by @separatist-apologist Desperate to escape her impending marriage, Feyre throws herself from a cliffside. Anything is better than what's waiting for her.

Even the monster hiding in the waves.

Nyx's less traumatic arrival into the world

by @shallyne Feyre wakes Rhys up in the middle of the night when contractions start...

Always Lonely, Never Alone

by @shallyne Feyre lives a a lonely life in the clutches of an unhappy marriage. When she meets an old friend, she realizes that she was never alone.

Bejeweled

by @thesistersarcheron Every court has their own Great Rite with unique, ancient traditions. The Night Court’s priestesses have played coy with Rhysand since he inherited the throne last year about what imbuing the land with his power really means; all they tell him is that he is meant to spend the night in the Night Court’s mines dripping in ceremonial jewels while everyone else gets to attend the orgy without him. He doesn’t expect to find Feyre, a faerie made of crystal who leads him on a chase deeper and deeper into the mines as the Rite’s magic overcomes him.

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home

by @rosanna-writer A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches.

[bluwavez]

WAIT FOR IT: KIM DOWON IS THE FIRST K-POP IDOL TO TAKE ON BROADWAY WITH HAMILTON.

He Wants To Be In The Room Where It Happens. The Kpop Star's Second Debut Of 2016.

When Kim Dowon ranked 7th in The New Wave, his fans deemed it a miracle. While they never doubted his talents, they knew the judges didn't favor him for his age or appearance. Kim, turning twenty-one during the show's run, had been training for five years while focusing on singing, rapping, and dancing; he had begun developing a passion for musical theatre, learning the choreography to Newsies to impress the panel of judges during his trainee evaluations.

Growing up in lower-class New York City, Dowon, English name Dylan, would often sneak into numerous Broadway shows with his friends. "I still feel this way, but I always felt the ticket prices were way too high. I wanted to see Westside Story so bad, and my friend was like, "Why don't we just sneak in?" So that's exactly what we did." Ever since then, Kim's love for musicals has only grown.

When Dowon moved to Korea at age 15 to start his K-pop training, he got to do something he never thought he would ever get to do: Take an acting class. "My mom didn't make a lot of money, and the school I went to didn't have a good arts program. So, I really felt like the closest thing I could get to acting was either sneaking into shows or watching movies. When they told me I could take acting classes as a part of my training, I was like, "Really?!" my eyes got big, and I couldn't stop smiling. It was really exciting for me." Dowon would share during an interview with Cosmopolitan.

After DeepDive's lackluster debut, Dowon would be reached out to by none other than Alexander Hamilton himself — Well, his actor, Lin-Manuel Miranda. "I still have no idea how he got my email. Not my manager's, not my company's, no, my personal Gmail account," Dowon says, "He said he saw the video of me doing an In The Heights cover and wanted me to audition for a musical he was working on. I sent him back something like, "You know I'm in South Korea right now, right?" and he went, "It's nothing we can't work out. Send in an audition tape." and I mean...The rest is history."

Lin-Manuel Miranda would confess that he had watched every performance of Dowon on YouTube. "I don't know if it was his charming good looks or his crazy vocal ability, but I knew this was the guy I needed for Aaron Burr."

Kim Dowon, listed as Dylan Kim on Hamilton's Playbill, would be cast as Aaron Burr two weeks later and head off to New York to prepare for his Broadway debut.

Hamilton premiered on Broadway at the Richard Rodgers Theatre in previews on July 13, 2016, and opened on August 6, 2016. 

Despite Dowon being the first and only K-pop idol to have a successful Broadway debut, his company was rather silent about it. They announced he would be joining the Hamilton cast and taking a hiatus from the group until the show's run ended, ending their comments on Dowon's Broadway debut despite his achievements during his time in New York. Dowon would open a personal Instagram account a week after the show's massively successful opening, making him the first member of DeepDive to do so. Still, it's not like the people following him knew him for his K-pop group — Oh no, that was Aaron Burr to them.

One of his achievements during his time in Hamilton was winning the 2017 Tony Award for Best Performance by a Leading Actor in a Musical. He was the first and only artist under Angelico to win a Tony award. However, you wouldn't know this because his company did not acknowledge the achievement. During his acceptance speech, which he did in both English and Korean, he thanked his brothers Jisung, Noah, Woobin, Kiwoo, Woojin, and Finn for remaining by his side during this journey and the entire cast of Hamilton for taking him in during this time of his life.

Dowon gave his last performance in Hamilton on July 9, 2017. Tearfully, he told the crowd he wasn't sure when he would return to the stage, but he hoped they wouldn't forget him or the rest of the cast, whom he addressed as his family.

Dowon would return to Korea and DeepDive on August 17th, 2017. He has not performed in a musical since.

[amoreva]

I JUST BINGE READ ALL OF YOUR RACE FICS AND YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD AAA💕💕 it feels like he’s real and the relationship is real and i’m actually in the world of the story holy shit,,, if you’re still taking requests can you write some race fluff, preferably in canon era, with like a cute lead up to him getting together with the reader (if you’re okay with it of course!) thanks!!

HOPELESSLY IN LOVE

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pairing: racetrack higgins x fem!reader

summary: the brooklyn newsies are strong and independent. they can hold their own and are respected; despite being a borough with a large amount of girls. so when one falls in love, her nature begins to crumble.

warnings: n/a

a/n: using the uksies as brooklyn, plus some from the broadway show. also, omfg i really appreciate it, thank you so much<3

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You never knew what romantic attraction felt like until you saw him at Medda’s Theater with his stupid blue eyes, his stupid blonde curls, his stupid cigar, his stupid cute smile—

Davey— that new Manhattan newsie was introducing your borough, respectfully, when you saw him. He was smiling at you, more so at your whole borough, ecstatic you showed up to the strike. That smile—that stupid cute smile made your heart flutter, your stomach churn with butterflies.

Of course, you knew what family love and platonic attraction felt like—you felt that for every newsie in Brooklyn. They were your brothers and sisters by heart. Yet, he stole your heart. Bastard. You ought to soak him.

Falling in love was a weird thing to do, especially since your priority was the sell papers to survive. You find yourself thinking about Manhattan’s second after the strike is won.

It didn’t help that he hugged you when Kelly announced the strike ended in their favor or when you guys talked during celebrations that night. The memories haunted your sleep.

A loud groan escaped your lips. That stupid smile of his. Your hands going over your warm, rose colored face as you sat on your bunk. Ritz and Hotshot peeked their heads into the girls bunk room, hearing you groan.

“What’re moping and griping about?” Hotshot asked, crossing his arms. His thick accent ringing in your ears.

You turn to look at you friends and remove the hands from your face. Before you could get a word in, Ritz is cupping your cheeks and feeling your forehead. “You’re burning up, Y/N!” Ritz exclaimed and shook your head side to side, lightly, to inspect your red cheeks.

“Ritz, please—” You begged the auburn haired girl to let your face go.

“Spot is going to be worried.”

“Ritz—”

“I think we have medicine somewhere.”

“Ritz, hang on—“

“Water and rest, that’s what my mama says.”

“I don’t have—”

“Spot ain’t letting you sell tomorrow.”

“Ritz!”

You shouted finally getting her attention. Ritz stopped her worrying. Hotshot stood up straight with raised eyebrows. You gently put your hands on Ritz’s wrists and removed them from your face. “I ain’t sick. I ain’t coughing or feelin’ bad.”

“Then what’s got your face so red, Y/N?” Ritz asked, she titled her head ever so slightly.

“A boy.” Hotshot spoke up.

You glared at Brooklyn’s second. Were you really that readable? Hotshot had to be a fucking psychic. A smirk danced on his lips. The silence said it all.

Ritz lit up like the Fourth of July. “You like a boy!” Ritz exclaimed with a wide grin. You slapped a hand across her mouth.

“Ritz, please don’t tell the others—” You begged to convey your seriousness. “You too, Hotshot.”

Ritz, still buzzing with excitement, nodded her head. You quickly shoved Hotshot into the girls’ bunk room and shut the door. “Who is it?” Ritz asked excitedly.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line. An internal dilemma with yourself. Would you rather suffer in silence, pin over a newsie in the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge or tell two people your crush which could potentially spread throughout the borough?

You decide to tell Hotshot and Ritz. Love is too confusing for you to suffer alone.

“It’s Manhattan’s second in command.” You mumbled, twisting your fingers as your face heats up. Just thinking about Race got your stomach all twisted up in a good way.

You didn’t think they heard you, but they did. Loud in clear.

“Race? Race!” Ritz confirmed.

Hotshot raised an eyebrow in amusement. “The one that “wanders” on our turf to bet at Sheepshead?”

“Yes.” You sighed exasperatedly and fell onto your bunk. “He’s just so—”

You couldn’t find the words to describe him, but then proceeded to go on a rant about Race for 10 minutes.

It wasn’t long before everyone in Brooklyn knew of your little crush on Manhattan’s second (and probably Manhattan). It was terrible with all the teasing and the questions on what you would do.

You didn’t know what to do! You would just lay in your bed and smile stupidly when you thought about him. “Pathetically in love” is what you thought.

Stray decided to do something.

With Spot’s permission (seeing you hopelessly in love was getting in the way of selling and Brooklyn’s reputation), Stray went to Manhattan. Stray had connections there. Her boyfriend and brother lived in Manhattan’s borough.

Stray told Specs, who told Elmer, who told Henry, who told Jojo, who told Mike, who told Finch, who told Race—that you liked him. When you got word that Race knew, you panicked.

Romance like that with him. You wouldn’t know how to act, what to do, or what to say. You’ve seen romance from afar; with rich couples, elderly couples, teenagers—all types of couples!

“Ya’ gotta relax, kid.” Spot patted your back after they found you contemplating your choices on your bunk. “If Racer is as half bright as you, he’ll see you’re a real gem.”

That gave you some confidence in yourself. You shouldn’t get worked up about some boy. Taking Mac’s advice seemed like the best option. “He’s just a guy!”

But, he seems real sweet and humorous and charming and ambitious. Keyword: seems. You might be setting yourself up for failure.

After days and days of dreading what you should do, Race came walking into Brooklyn, willy nilly, specifically to Graves’ and yours selling spot.

“Heya miss, can I get a pape?” Race asked.

You weren’t paying attention and grabbed a newspaper from your bag. Seeing him in front of you with his stupid blue eyes, his stupid blonde curls, his stupid cigar, his stupid cute smile—

You froze. A blush rising to your face. You spun on your heels and walked away. A fight or flight response.

Graves grabbed you with a smirk and turned you around. “Talk to him!” Graves whispered and pushed you towards Race.

He had that charming, amused smile on his face. “Hey.” He spoke, two hands on the strap of his paper bag.

“Hey.” You croaked.

“I—uh…got word, ya like me.”

“Mhm.”

Race looked at you awkwardly. If you looked hard enough, you saw a faint faint blush on cheeks. “You—uh…wanna go to the Sheepshead with me?”

“Now?” You asked incredulously.

“Now.” Graves spoke firmly. “You can sell at Sheepshead, don’t worry. I’ll be fine by myself.”

And so, you and Race went to Sheepshead Races. You held onto his arm like one of those rich ladies would do to a gentlemen. Conversation was made, no matter how awkward it was between you two.

The Sheepshead Races were loud and lively. You usually went here with Lucky and Scope when you had downtime.

“C’mon, they’ll start soon.” Race intertwined his hands with yours and pulled you through a crowd of people. “Gotta get the best seats.”

“Isn’t that the front row?” You asked, glancing back at where you and your friends would usually sit.

“Trust me, sweetheart. These seats are better than any front row.” Race grinned.

Your heart skipped a beat.

The name “sweetheart” sounded so right from his lips.

Race took you to a chainlink fence. You were close enough to see the jockeys’ faces and the horses shaking their head. The spot was at the bottom right of the original seating, in between the commentator’s box and the vendor.

He let go of your hand to lean against the fence. You frowned slightly, missing the feeling of his hand in yours. “Better than any front seat.” He repeated softly.

“Is this how you got your name?” You gestured to the races. Your nerves slowly disappearing. You were a Brooklyn newsie for Christ’s sake! Be confident!

“What?” Race shook his head as if you broke him out of his trance. “Oh—uh…kinda! That and I would be the first to the circulation gate. I’m pretty fast for a newsie.”

“You’re pretty for a newsie.” You responded without missing a beat.

“What’s that?” Race leaned in to hear you better. A smirk on his face.

Before you could respond, a gunshot sounded. Hooves slammed on the dirt track. The commentator spoke enthusiastically about the race. In no time, the horses and jockeys were passing you. The wind from them passing knocked off your newsie cape. You could practically see the sweat on the jockeies’ faces.

“Careful.” Race snaked an arm around your waist as soon as the horses passed. He pulled you towards him, concerned about your safety.

You yelped going face first into his chest. Race chuckled awkwardly. You pulled away slightly, but not out of his arms. You two met eyes, just staring. The sound of the hooves faded away.

His blue eyes, the same color as the East River, the same color as a beautiful day. No words were shared between you two. Race gulped. The tension palpable.

Cheering and groans were heard as the commentator announced the outcome. “If—you couldn’t tell…” Race spoke nervously, never tearing his eyes away from yours. “I think your cute—hell, I think your badass for being a Brooklyner.”

Usually when you saw a lady and gentleman like this, they share a kiss. Your heart was beating out of your chest. You never kissed anyone, but this seemed like the perfect moment.

“I don’t know how to kiss…” You admitted quietly.

“We don’t gotta kiss.” Race assured.

“But I want too.”

“…”

“…”

“Can I kiss ya then?”

“Please.”

The minute his lips met yours, the whole world froze. Your stomach twisted in a good warm feeling. Electricity and sparks flying with a single touch to the lips. Your brain was blanking. No words could describe a first kiss.

“Was that…okay?” Race pulled away.

“Better than okay.” You nodded firmly and pressed another kiss to his lips.

Both Race and you got a little more confident and kissed each other back. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was sweet. “There’s more to Brooklyn than the Sheepshead Races.” You pulled away this time.

“I figured.” Race laughed and ran a hand through his blonde curls. He picked up your newsie’s cap that flew off. Brushing off the dirt, he placed the cap back on your head.

“I wanna show you more places in Brooklyn.” You spoke without even realizing what you were saying.

“A date then.” Race smirked.

“A date.” You confirmed.

“Great.”

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[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 48: Vulnerable

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

(Warning: mention of nudity)

The next day brings more clouds and a chilly cold snap. I will say it’s interesting to see the neighboring families celebrate their Boxing Day traditions through the window. The Shelbys must not do so much, either that or their festivities have been canceled due to John’s untimely death. And to top it off, Liam graces me with another phone call. This time with bad news from our side of the pond.

“Oh my God.”

Thomas, having just woken up, pokes his head out of his room. “What is it?”

One thing my eyes have to notice is his bare neck. Is he completely bare? Do not stare. Do not stare. There are far more important matters at hand.

“I just got off the phone with my broer Liam. There’s been an attack at home. You’ve heard of the White Hand? The gang Uncle Colon’s involved with?”

“Yeah.”

“The story goes that Wild Bill Lovett, their leader, was replaced by his brother-in-law Richard ‘Peg Leg’ Lonergan. After he took over, the gang’s become a shell of what it used to be. Far less organized.” Thomas gets the point so I stop rambling. “Anyways, back in Brooklyn there’s a popular joint called the Adonis Social Club. Last night Peg Leg showed up drunk and the Italians didn’t take it well. There was a gunfight. Now they’ve taken the waterfront.”

If this keeps up, Uncle Colon won’t be able to use Brooklyn's hidden trading port. Which means vader will have to import liquor from someplace in Canada where alcohol is legal.

However, Thomas’ first question is not about business. “Did you know anyone who was killed?”

I have to replay his words again and nod. “Joseph Howard. Or as he was known, ‘Ragtime Joe Howard.’ My family didn’t mind if I hung around the Italian neighborhood as long as there were no mafia members around. Joseph and I were friends as kids but he wanted more of the mob life.”

Thomas wants to come closer but is still indecent to do so. His head vanishes for a split second and he returns with a bathrobe draping his toned frame. Moeder would be furious if she were to know I was this close to an improperly dressed man. But my mind looks beyond the giddy thoughts of a teenager and instead stresses further about my family back home.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Thomas says softly. There is far too much death in this life.

I have to squeeze my eyes shut to keep from bursting into anxious tears. “‘S not just that. Capone has always hated the Irish mob. Even though we’re not officially part of it, my family is still at risk. When he sees my connection to your vendetta, my family is going to have a hit put on them. Every one of us.”

Thomas grabs my clenched hands and waits until I look up with teary eyes to speak.

“If I could I’d send people to go protect them. I know you want to be with them, Verena. If I were you I’d want to be with my family too. But it’s still too dangerous. Like you said, the mafia will notice you’re involved with our family. It’s safer for everyone if we all stick together. If Changretta ever makes contact I swear I will speak to him about your family.”

My eyes widen. “That could make things worse! If they know you value my family then they might do the same thing they plan to do to yours.”

Thomas lets out a sharp sigh. “Let’s just worry about one thing at a time, love. The meeting’s in half an hour, maybe our questions can be solved through that. Just be patient with me, eh?”

I swallow heavily and nod to show I understand. Thomas nods in return, slowly releases my hands, and walks back to his room. No words can describe how conflicted I am. I came here to mend bridges and instead this vendetta keeps burning them. As much as part of me wants to help Thomas and be with the others while they mourn John, I cannot ignore the calling of my own family. Liam sounded so worried. No, my life is not worth all of theirs. But if being tied to the Shelbys is going to pin them to a death threat then how am I supposed to bargain my life?

“Veena!” Charlie sprints into the hall. “Can we hide and seek again?”

I hastily wipe away my unshed tears and force a smile. “I thought you’d have figured out all the hiding places by now, Charlie.”

“No! I’ve still got ideas.”

I follow him to the parlor and take a seat on the sofa. “Alright, then. I’ll start counting.”

Charlie shakes his head. “That’s okay. You can hide first. One. Two. Three…”

Oh! He’s not giving me a head start. I dash out of the room and start to rack my brain for a place to hide. Unlike Charlie I do not have the advantage of being able to squeeze into such small spaces. My best places have been on high shelves and underneath folded bedding in closets. 

I carefully tiptoe to Thomas’ room. Is he still in the bathroom? Would he mind if I popped in to hide? Surely Charlie will discover me here in a matter of minutes so there shouldn’t be any harm. 

“Here I come!”

No time to wait! I quietly turn the doorknob and sneak into the dimly lit room. In the corner I spot a large armchair that’s the perfect size to hide behind-

Then I hear the sound of water. Why is there water here-? Oh my God.

Thomas is in here. Lying in a tub, smoking a cigarette, staring at the ceiling. Completely bare. 

He obviously saw me come in but raises no alarm to my intrusion. Or the fact that I’ve disturbed him in such a state.

My face turns bright pink but the absence of light does well to hide my shock. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry- I’m just- It’s my turn to hide, and-”

“‘S alright,” Thomas replies nonchalantly and takes a puff on his cigarette. How is he so calm?! “Not the first person to see me.”

Yes. See him. All of him. This is the first time my virgin eyes have seen a man who is not part of my family. As a logical person, I can see how Thomas’ toned figure can cause him to be intimidating and ready for a fight. As a curious woman, I cannot stop the natural reaction that I’m certain all women have from Thomas. It’s no wonder why he’s so cocky- figuratively and literally. Half of me wants to look away shamefully while the other half wants to memorize this vulnerable moment in great detail. His eyes still hold the burdens of ten men. 

What intrigues me most are his tattoos. The dark markings stand out against his pale, wet skin. The only person I know of in my family who has one is Uncle Colon. A Celtic cross on his wrist, similar to the one on my pendant. The idea of tattoos is completely obscure from the rest of my family. I almost want to ask if each of Thomas’ tattoos have a special meaning.

But my mind is far too flustered and embarrassed to think of anything other than immediately getting out of here.

“Right. Um- I’ll just go hide somewhere else-”

“Found you!”

Charlie’s sudden entrance startles me and I nearly tumble backwards into the dresser. The small boy laughs at my clumsiness but then lets out a big yawn.

“Did you wake up too early?” I ask in a pointed tone, putting my hands on my hips and trying to forget my embarrassment.

Charlie gets a sheepish look. “I couldn’t sleep.”

I glance back at Thomas, who gives me a look that says Charlie is at the age when he has no normal sleep schedule. No wonder Thomas has been stressed from little sleep too.

“Well then, how about you take a nap while your daddy and I go to a meeting in the parlor?” I usher him to the creaky bed and start to tuck him in, despite his look of protest. “Trust me Charlie, it’s going to be so dull. So much talking.”

He scrunches his nose at the thought and yawns again. Within a few minutes Charlie’s already fallen asleep.

Knock knock. 

Lord, now who is it?

“Tommy,” Michael’s muffled voice comes from the other side of the door. “They’ve gathered.”

This is happening so soon. Thomas doesn’t give any verbal reply. He just sighs and takes a drink, eyes still on the ceiling. I think I’m slowly growing used to seeing him without clothes.

I approach from behind. “Would you like me to go out first? Try to calm the approaching storm?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Thomas mutters and finally looks up to see the concern painted on my face, a trait he matches with his own. “Thank you for being here. You’re not family but you're still here.”

“John reminded me of my own broers. I grieve for him too.” Thomas starts to get up and I turn my head to offer privacy; although he clearly pays no thought to that. Something else I notice is that he has nothing laid out to wear. “Would you like a robe?”

At first I think Thomas will take advantage of the situation to mock my modest character or reprimand me for not knocking earlier. Instead of being stunned or ashamed he walks around with a stance that says he doesn’t mind being clothless. Almost as if he’s daring me to look at him. Deep down I feel grateful for the unspoken trust he's placed in me. Not only to see him like this but to also accept his fear of facing his family.

“A towel, please,” Thomas requests kindly, as if asking for a cup of tea.

Makes sense. I’ve already seen him. Why cover up now?

@meadows5

[ramshackle-divine-infection]

PART 3: An Eye for An Eye

((super long chapter; slight blood tw))

A panicked Franzwick stood over a blood puddle. Whatever that thing was, it had run off in pain. He clutched his golden sewing scissors tighter, ready to strike again if that… thing returned. He wiped the blood off his weapon and examined what he had stabbed out; a single eye, which was dark green. It would be pretty, despite the fact it was covered in blood. Franzwick shrugged and picked up the eye to examine it.

His ears perked up as he heard running. He quickly got into a fighting stance, scissors held out in front of him. Vinnie came running up to him; she had volunteered to check out where that scream had come from.

“The hell was that scream?” She asked.

Franzwick huffed and lowered his scissors. “It wasn’t me if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Well, then the hell was it?!”

“It was from… whatever this came from.” He holds out the eye he had stabbed out from the creature. Vinnie wrinkles her nose.

“Dude, ew!” A beat of silence, and then she extends her hand out. “Lemme’ see that shit.” Franzwick hands her the bloody eye. She looks at it.

“Hm… This looks… familiar.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… I never forget a face, or uh, an eye.”

Suddenly, another loud, inhumane shriek echoed from somewhere farther away. Franzwick shudders and backed up closer to Vinnie.

“Uh… would you, perchance, let me stay with you and your friends?” He mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

Vinnie just chuckled and slapped him on his back. “Sure! I think we should stick together in larger groups. Cen is also staying with us.”

Franzwick winced and scowled as she touched him. He waved her hand off him and raised an eyebrow. “Just Cen? What happened to the other one?”

Vinnie’s smile faded. “Uh… we don’t know. But judging from what Cen told us, Rigel turned into one of those things that attacked you.”

Franzwick looked genuinely surprised. “Oh… so… I’m assuming don’t ask him about that, hm?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Vinnie walked with Franzwick over to their area of the Slum Ally. Skipp welcomed him with open arms; literally. He clung onto Franzwick and started sobbing.

“Y-your okay! I’m so h-happy-waaa!” He cried, his tears soaking Franzwick’s coat. Franwick grimaced.

“Augh! Omigod, get off! You’re ruining my coat!” Franzwick exclaims, trying to pry Skipp off him as Skipp continues to bawl his eyes out.

“Skipp! Cut that out!” Vinnie said as she pried Skipp off of the tall blond.

Later, Franwick was eating the piece of bread that had been shared with him. Cen was sitting next to him, just silently staring at the half-stale bread in his hand. Franzwick, without looking at him, leaned over.

“You should eat,” he said softly, “You’ll need the energy. Besides, your brother would have wanted you to eat.”

Cen looked up at him. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, but there was also a massive amount of emotion in his eyes. Cen looked back down at his bread and broke it in half.

“Eat up, Rigel…” he said quietly as he placed the other half of the bread aside. He silently ate his half of bread, leaning up against Franzwick. Once he was done eating, Cen leaned up against Franzwick, wrapping a corner of Franzwick’s coat around his smaller frame.

Franzwick’s eyes widened and he tried to push the Newsie off of him. “Hey- no, eh- no, no, no- uh… ugh… okay, fine…” he mumbled, finally giving up. He swaddled the smaller kid in his coat and let him sleep. 

Vinnie, Skipp, Stone, and Franzwick all stayed up for a while longer, discussing what was to be done.

“It’s not safe to be alone right now,” Stone mumbled quietly, not wanting to wake Cen up.

“Yeah, clearly,” Vinnie said.

“I say we gather up as many Scraps as we can throughout Ramshackle,” Skipp said, “After that, we gather in a large, safe area… but where?”

“One thought at a time Skipp. Right now, let’s just focus on figuring out how we’re going to get the news around,” Vinnie quipped.

“And how we’re going to get everyone to believe us…” Stone added.

“Oh, hey, that reminds me,” Vinnie says as she reaches into her pocket, “Do you guys know who this belongs to?” She pulls out the eye from earlier.

Stone wrinkled his nose and grimaced. “That is disgusting Vinnie…”

Skipp stifled a gag. He took a closer look. “That looks familiar…” he says, still stifling a gag.

Vinnie looks at Franzwick. “See?! That’s what I said!”

A beat of silence.

Suddenly, Skipp’s eyes widen. “Wait! That looks like Karma’s eye!” He turned to Franzwick. “The thing that attacked you, did they have orange hair?”

Franzwick nodded. “Yeah. And they had a striped bandanna around their neck.” Stone nodded solemnly to Skipp.

“Sounds like Karma,” he said. 

The Scraps sat in tense silence. The wind rustled the leaves from some faraway trees. The only light came from the moon and the fire, which was slowly dying down.

“Let’s get some sleep. We’re gonna’ need it,” Vinnie said. Skipp put out the fire in the barrel and put the lid back on and the trio went into their tent. Franzick hesitated before gently picking up Cen and following suit.

“Make yourselves comfy, ‘kay?” Skipp said as he entered the tent.

“Great… now we’re going to be even more cramped than usual…” Stone mumbled. He grabbed a part of the blanket before Skipp could steal the whole thing for himself.

Franzwick paid him no mind and laid down next to Skipp. He gently laid Cen down as well, making sure the Newsie boy was comfortable. Cen mumbled and twitched in his sleep, but eventually settled down.

Franzwick stared up at the ceiling of the makeshift tent and eventually fell asleep while holding Cen. Cen clutched onto Franzwick as how used to do with Rigel before that night...

[jack-kellys]

3 bc we are Choosing Violence today

well.

give me a number and i'm gonna say some real shit rn.

3. screenshot of an awful take or a description of the worst thing you've seen opinion-wise. [my tags say no hate is meant, btw.] [but also this is mild bro.]

i could say a lot of things! i could talk abt someone who sent me an ask saying that uksies "completely ruined the sprace dynamic" (racist and sexist, made a post abt it). i could talk abt a post that had said nothing had changed or was special abt uk's something to believe in even tho jack was entirely black and said "i know girls like you don't end up with guys like me” (made a post abt it) i could talk abt every post from the dawn of time about sunshine boy crutchie and the absolute damage andrew keenan-bolger accidentally incited with his/bway's take. but i saved two special instances bc someone else also asked for #3. ahe he hem:

there was an issue a while back where there was someone on tumblr saying that they don't headcanon the jacobs to be jewish, or something. in theory that'd be fine, everyone's entitled to their own cultural headcanons, but the jacobs' jewish identity and culture is something this fandom (& i) has been very adamant about and i’m gonna be frank. this was like……. the first if not only diverse headcanon/fact about newsies for like. a long time. and by that i mean popularized- i think latino jack kelly years later became popular but that’s like…. recent, oddly enough.

anyway the jacobs are canonically jewish, according to their names, their parents’ names, and the 1992 novel flat-out saying it. but this person’s reasoning, after a friend of mine cites the book’s statement, is "headcanoning characters with Jewish names as Jewish feels like stereotyping”. (i don’t have the post anymorrrre… might’ve been deleted)

and so like. this person. had to have been trying to cause discourse i’m sorry. what are y. the book is from DAVID’S POV, btw, like. he is saying they r jewish. the point of jack being irish in 92sies is that irish and jewish community tensions were high and so them working together is slay & cool. and since they do have jewish names, what you need to do is respect it, not make attempts to admonish yourself from not wanting to see them that way. what?? what the fuck. so that was a crazy fucking take. this fandom has history, and it’s important. like ur allowed to be new here, of course you are, but when these ppl who’ve been here a long time are trying to HELP YOU understand something and u say that shit. brother god help u lmao