#only four months until next year & then newsies could start again at any point...

[undescribed1mage]

Hi sorry Ike & Buttons stealing apples (being SO excited about those apples, too) and then giving one to Tommy Boy is so important 2 me. Same with Buttons giving Splasher some of the food the nuns brought because he didn't get any :(

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

More Hearts Than Mine - Part I

As always, I do not own anything that you’re familiar with - Newsies, songs, characters, etc. This is loosely based on the song “More Hearts Than Mine” by Ingrid Andress. This has been rattling around in my head for a while and I decided to sit down and write it. As always, feedback would be wonderful! Warnings: cursing

Race - 17 years old, junior in high school - living at Medda’s Spot - 18 years old, senior in high school Charlie - 17 years old, junior in high school - living at Medda’s Amelia - 17 years old, junior in high school Albert - 16 years old, sophomore in high school - living at Medda’s Finch - 16 years old, sophomore in high school Smalls - 13 years old, 8th grade - living at Medda’s Romeo - 10 years old, 3rd grade - living at Medda’s Henry - 4 years old, daycare - living at Medda’s Jack - 19 years old, sophomore in college

October 4, 2019

“Let’s go! All of you are going to be late!” She hollered, her voice carrying throughout the house. Mornings were always crazy in the household but Medda wouldn’t have it any other way. It was always busy with six foster children running around getting into various amounts of mischief. To say, there was never a dull moment in the house and Medda lived for it.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, she grinned seeing her children file in, sleep still in their eyes. She narrowed her eyes seeing a yawn escape his mouth. “Cover your mouth, Racer.”

Race looked at her with a grin. “Sorry momma. It’s Friday y'all.”

Charlie snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t matter because we’ve got a Chemistry exam that we’ve gotta get through before the weekend.”

“Don’t remind me.” Race groaned, throwing his head back as Smalls and Romeo joined him at the table.

Medda raised an eyebrow at the two. “Are you both ready for the exam?”

“Study hall right before it.” Charlie grinned, looking over at Race.

She shook her head. “An hour isn’t enough time to cram.”

“At least you don’t have a history exam.” Albert threw himself into a chair giving his older brothers a glance. “I second Charlie’s comment about study hall.”

Henry came running in, yelling about something. Medda raised an eyebrow, looking around the room, trying to see if anyone knew what was up with her youngest. Race, Charlie, and Albert all shrugged while Smalls and Romeo were focused on the bowls of cereal in front of them.

“Hey Henry, cool it.” Albert yelled, grabbing Henry and putting him at the opposite end of the table. “Can’t we have a breakfast in peace once in a while?”

Charlie shook his head, looking at his little brother. “You’re one to talk, Albie. Usually you and Racer are going at each other’s throats and causing a ruckus at breakfast. If we don’t have a quiet one, it’s typically your fault.”

Knowing she needed to squash whatever was happening in front of her before it got out of hand, Medda looked around the kitchen. “Hey remember Jack’s coming home tonight.” Medda called, causing the usual chaos of the kitchen to come to a standstill.

Concerned with the sudden quietness, Medda looked up from the six lunches she was packing. “You guys didn’t forget did you?”

“Uhhh no momma. Didn’t realize it came up so quickly.” Race was the first to recover pushing a bright smile on his face as he looked around at his foster siblings. “When will he be here?”

Medda smiled. “He said about 5, just in time for dinner. Don’t dilly dally tonight. Come home and get your homework done so you don’t have to don’t have to worry about it this weekend.”

“Did he say why he was coming home?” Albert bit into an apple, giving the room a wide glance.

Medda smirked. “As if that boy needs a reason to come home. He did mention he was bringing someone home with him.”

Several pairs of eyes widened at her statement as she levelset with each of her children. “Now listen here you’re going to leave your brother and whoever he brings home alone. No giving him crap or being the normal pain in the butts you are.”

“As if we’d ever do that.” Race’s jaw dropped looking first at Medda before looking between Albert and Charlie.

Medda sighed, pointing a finger looking at her oldest three. “Treat Jack’s guest as I treated you when you first came to live with me. If I hear of you pulling any tricks or pranks, you’ll be answering not only to me but I’ll let Jack deal with you as well.”

“Momma!” Albert and Race yelled, knowing that her threat was real. Between Medda and Jack, Albert and Race could only imagine the punishment they would cook up for them.

She chuckled, watching them shake their heads. “Be nice and be the kids I’m trying to raise you to be.”

“Ugh momma, why do you have to take all the fun out of it?” Race gave her a grin.

Medda grinned. “I’m not ruining your fun. I’m just telling you to behalf like the civilized children I know you to be. Now get going before you miss the bus.”

She quickly handed off the lunches she had packed before pressing kisses to each of their foreheads as she watched them walk out the door. She looked over at the three still sitting at the table with a grin. “Finish up and we’ll leave in ten minutes.”

Taking a sip of her coffee, she shook her head at the kids, knowing that they all loved their older brother dearly. “Momma?”

Looking up from her coffee cup, she looked over at Smalls. “Yes, Smalls?”

“Can we start up the conversation again about getting a dog?” She grinned, looking hopeful at her mother. “You know since Jack’s moved out and he had the energy of a dog.”

The calendar on the fridge caught her attention. “Felicity! Don’t talk about your brother like that. I thought we were going to table that until the summer.”

“Well . . . it’s almost summer,” Smalls grinned, raising her eyebrow in hope. Romeo, and Henry both stopped eating momentarily, looking between their sister and momma. “Come on Momma . . . what’s holding you back?”

“Summer is 9 months away. We’re going to be late if we don’t get a move on.” She gave the four a look. “We’ll table this discussion for when everyone is home and has a say.”

Smalls gave her mom a knowing look. “Because you know what everyone is going to say. Why not just say yes and we’ll tell everyone later?”

“Felicity, car now.” Holding out a lunch bag, she gave her daughter a look before pointing to the garage door. Her younger brothers followed suit as Medda grabbed her purse, keys and her own lunch with a sigh before following them out the door.

11:00am - Study Hall

Flipping open his Chemistry book, he tried to focus on the chapters the exam would cover. Looking across the room, he saw Charlie sitting with Amelia, his best friend since childhood, both of them absorbed in their studying. He sighed, flipping pages but not really paying attention to what he was reading. Feeling someone sit beside him, he picked his head up from his book. “You’ve been quiet all morning, what’s going on?”

Spot Conlon was one that was very protective of those around him and when those in his personal circle were not themselves, Spot Conlon was one to pick up on it immediately. Race often joked he should become a detective after high school.

“Jack’s comin’ home.” Race sighed, running a hand over his curls. “And he’s bringing someone back.”

Spot leaned back in his chair, whistling. “Any info on that person?”

“Momma didn’t know. Just that he’ll be home around 5, in time for dinner.” Race looked at his boyfriend. “I’m excited that he’s coming home but he’s never brought someone home before.”

Spot nodded, having been around the Larkin household since Race was adopted eight years ago. “Think it might be a girl or are you leaning towards a roommate?”

“I just talked to him yesterday and he didn’t mention anything about a girl.” Race sighed. “You know Jackie, he can’t keep his mouth shut normally.”

Biting his lip, Spot sighed. “Knowing Jackie, it’ll all be okay. Whoever this person is, should be more nervous than you.”

“What does that mean?” Race turned in his chair, giving his boyfriend a look.

Spot chuckled. “You and your siblings are an intimidating crew. Y’all look innocent but when you want, you all can be evil.”

Nodding, Race chuckled. “You’re right but momma put the kibosh on that. Will you come over tonight for dinner?”

“Medda alright with that?” Spot raised an eyebrow, giving his boyfriend a look.

Shrugging, Race closed his book with a slam. “She didn’t say anything about no boyfriends. I’m sure Finch and Amelia will be over just like normal.”

“I’ll be there.” Spot agreed. “I’ll text my sis and let her know.”

“Wanna dump all your Chemistry knowledge on me in the next thirty minutes?” Race leaned over, stealing a kiss from Spot with a grin.

Spot smirked. “You’re going to need more than 30 minutes, stud. You’ll need all the help you can get; all of which, unfortunately, I cannot help with.”

“Spottie . . . . please.” Race pleaded, giving him his best puppy dog eyes.

Leaning over, he kissed him, smirking. “Open your book and we’ll see what we can get through before the bell.”

4:30pm

Like any afternoon after school, the dining room table at Medda’s was rambunctious and loud. Nine kids were crammed around the table, each with their homework scattered around them. Medda was standing at the stove, stirring the sauce in the pot while listening to each of the kids talk about their day.

“Homework almost done?” Medda called, raising her voice a bit to be heard over the kids.

Various confirmations came from the table as she looked over at them. “Please put your stuff away and help set the table. Spot, Amelia, Finch, you staying for dinner?”

“If that’s okay, Medda?” Spot called, stuffing his book and notebook back into his backpack.

“Always sugar.” She grinned, raising a silent eyebrow in Finch and Amelia’s direction.

Finch nodded with a grin while Amelia hesitated. “Sorry Medda, mom’s making dinner and wants all her kids home tonight.”

“No worries, Amelia. I’m sure we’ll see you at some point this weekend?” Medda asked, looking at Charlie’s best friend.

She nodded with a grin. “I’ll be around. I’ll see you guys later.”

Several goodbyes were yelled as she made her way out the front door. Medda shook her head at the girl before stirring the pot of sauce on the stove. She had long considered Amelia another adopted child with how often she was over at the house. “So you don’t know anything about this person Jack’s bringing home, momma?”

“If I did, I would tell you what I know.” Medda said, looking between Charlie, Albert, and let her gaze land on Race, who asked the question. “Jack called me up last week and asked if it was alright if he brought someone home with him. That’s all he said. Now, he’ll be here in a little bit, so I need all of your bags put up in your rooms and wash your hands. Smalls, Romeo put plates out. Race and Albert silverware and Charlie cups, please.”

With assignments handed out, the kids scattered. Henry sat at the kitchen counter, swinging his legs, back and forth watching Medda with wide eyes. “What can I do momma?”

Looking at the table being set, Medda smiled. “Henry can you make sure every place has a napkin?”

He hopped off his chair doing as he was told while Medda took a moment to relax in the busyness of the house and thankful for everything that surrounded her.

“You alright, momma?” Albert asked, pausing in his movements of laying down the silverware, looking at her.

She smiled. “Just fine baby. Excited that all my children will be in the house this weekend. How’s that table coming along?”

“Almost done momma.” Race called. “How’s the spaghetti?”

She gave it one more stir before nodding. “It’s almost ready.”

“Momma, Race, Charlie, Albert, Smalls, Romeo, Jack’s home and he brought a pretty girl!” Henry yelled as several eyes went wide and the front door was thrown open.

Quickly wiping her hands, Medda put the towel on the counter before following the kids to the front foyer. She smiled at Spot and Finch who stood back, giving the family some space. Medda couldn’t help but tear up as her oldest walked through the door, holding a hand of a pretty girl, just as Henry had exclaimed.

[hazinhoodies]

No Use For Moonlight (T.H)

A/N: sorry for putting so many images of tom singing and him playing jack in newsies in your head, have fun with it I guess.

Warnings: tom singing, sorry

Word count: 5.8k

You sat on the floor of the black box theatre, typing away on your English assignment, as Harrison works with his partner for whatever skit he had to do. While Tom had originally been pacing the same corner of the room as he reads over the skipt for upcoming school musical auditions, he had dropped the script with a dramatic sigh and now danced around to whatever was playing through his earbuds. You look up from your computer for the first time in a while. Harrison is talking to his partner while pointing at the chair and table in the corner of the room. You can’t hear what they’re saying, only Ricky Montgomery in your ears as you bob your head along to the song through your earbuds. You look over to Tom and watch as he rounds turn after turn, you stopped counting after the fourth pirouette but he kept going for a couple more seconds before stopping, chest heaving slightly. You watch as he starts to lift up the bottom of his shirt but look back to your screen knowing that he's going to wipe his forehead with it, you don't want to get caught staring when you shouldn’t be. You're just friends, except when you're not.

Your relationship with Holland was… confusing.

Yeah sure, you guys were friends. But then every few weeks, you two couldn’t stand each other. Those times usually lasted about a week.

One whole week. A whole week of Tom being rude. A whole week of your passive aggressive remarks towards him. A whole week of Tom being a cocky asshole.  A whole week of you complaining to anyone who would listen.

If Harrison could turn off or shut either of you up for that week he would. He was stuck in the middle of it all. Every time.

But Harrison was a good friend. He was always there for you. Whether it was to tell you that you wrote down the wrong answer accidentally, or to warn you about Tom possibly being in a mood one day, he told you. You assume he did something similar for Tom. Help him memorize lines maybe? You weren’t sure. The drama and music departments didn’t cross over that much aside from the kids involved in both departments, like Harrison.

Harrison introduced you and Tom. You were twelve and it was Harrison's birthday. He’d invited you and Tom, as well as a few others. Harrison and another girl, Laura, were the only two you knew. You’d recognized Tom but only from seeing him in the halls so much, you’d never actually talked to him before.

What no one expected was for you and Tom to have gotten so close, in the short three hours, the two of you became inseparable. You still cared plenty for the other, if you hear something bad come from someone else's mouth about him then you told Tom. Not usually right as you heard it but it eventually came out.

Tom says something from next to you as he rummages through his bag for his water bottle. You barely hear it, only enough to pause your music and pull out your earbud and give Tom a look asking him to repeat himself, he does as he moves his bag over to sit next to you, popping up the straw of his water bottle. “How’s the essay comin’ along?”

You shrug, “One can only write about the metaphorical use of colour in the Great Gatsby for so long” You and Tom both let out a short laugh.

“When’s that due again?”  Tom asks sheepishly before taking a sip from his water bottle, as if to cover up his words.

“Thursday”

“Right, right, okay. Cool cool cool cool cool” There’s a brief pause between you two where Tom continues to nod and stare at the carpeted floor.

“You haven’t started have you?”

“Nope not at all.”

“Tom!”

“Hey! I’ve been busy with auditions!” Tom defends himself as you finally remove the other earbud figuring that he’s not leaving soon. “Speaking of auditions, you auditioning?”

You rummage through your bag and drop a thick spiral bound score on his lap. “I got this music over a week ago. Didn’t have to audition”

“I meant for Katherine” Tom starts to flip through through the book looking at all the music and the cues, pausing over parts that you’ve circled, “But this is good too”

“God no, I’m no actor.” You finish typing up the end of your last paragraph, quickly fixing any spelling mistakes and then shut your laptop, leaning back against the wall behind you and crossing your arms over your chest.

“But you can sing, and actings easy if you’ve got a great partner, which you would if you were Katherine” Tom continues to flip through the score, he admires how clean your writing is on some notes and how some are merely scribbled circles that he deciphered to Count.

“Getting real cocky there Holland” You warn with a small smirk on your face.

“I got nothin’ if I ain’t got this role” Tom says in a Manhattan accent, there’s no attempt made to hide the grin on his face. “I’ll be happy with whatever I get, it’d just be great to play Jack, I could do it I think”

You know he could. You have absolutely no doubt about it. You take back the score and put it back in your bag as Harrison starts to pack up his bag as well. “You two ready to go?” He asks as he slings his back pack over his shoulder.

“Yeah let’s go” You say as you start to stand up, pulling your bag over your back as well.

“Hey, can we watch Toy Story when we get to Haz’s?” Tom asks as he follows both of you out of the black box.

“We watched that last time!” You and Harrison both exclaim.

“Jeez, that’s a no then?”

Auditions were the following Friday, you sat anxiously outside of the auditorium waiting for Harrison and Tom to finish their auditions. You tried to pass the time by doing some work but you couldn’t focus on it so your theory workbook sat open on your lap while you scrolled through Instagram. Harrison had his audition before Tom did, you didn’t expect either of them to do poorly but you still felt relief wash over you when Haz walked towards you with a pleasant grin and even more when he told you it went great. You pulled him into a quick tight hug and voiced your joy before the two of you sat back down, light conversation flowing between you while you wait for Tom.

Half an hour later, Tom comes out of the auditorium and you and Harrison both stand up, almost falling over as you do. Tom has never been easy to read, especially after auditions. He’s definitely not smiling but you may see a bit of excitement and joy etched somewhere in his expression. You can’t really be sure, even after all these years of knowing him. He looks up at you and Harrison who look at him expectantly and Tom has the audacity to wave and say, “Hey guys”

“So?” You ask, nearly shouting. Tom stops about a foot short of you and Harrison before answering.

“My voice cracked but other than that it went really well” A smile finally break on his lips but you miss it as you wrap your arms around his neck and his around your waist with a small ‘oof’ followed by a chuckle

“I’m so proud of you” You say, muffled by his shoulder. You feel his hand run up and down your back and you squeeze tighter for a moment to return the sentiment.

“Thanks.” It’s quiet and under his breath and you hardly even heard it but it was there.

A week later casting had been released and sure enough, Tom had seized the role of Jack. And he was perfect for it. He had the charisma, the passion and the stage presence to put on a good show. He was a good singer, sure but definitely needed a bit more training to get the power needed, that’d come along eventually though, and Tom was never one to shy away from a challenge.

You got to see none of the progress of the show and Tom refused to tell you any of it, he wanted to save it so that you could experience it for yourself. The band joins the rehearsals during tech week, prior to that they get about four rehearsals together. That’s it. Four rehearsals, then joining the cast for three more, then shows start. There’s more shows than there are rehearsals and it’s extremely stressful but you’ve had the music for nearly three months already and band rehearsals haven’t even started yet. You’re set, you continue to work on it on your own, partially to make sure that you know the music an partially because it’s fun to play.

You’re sitting in a practice room during lunch one day, four instruments set up in the small room with you as you go over the part for King Of New York again. A knock on the practice room door makes you stop and listen for a moment, unsure if you actually heard it or not. The second knock comes a second later and you open the door to see Tom on the other side, a sheepish smile on his face as he holds up the script to Newsies. You wanted to shut the door in his face, you really did. Not that he had done anything wrong but it was just one of those weeks where you were so unbelievably irritated with him for seemingly no reason.

“Go away I’m working” You say, not moving from the door but keeping it open.

“Doing what?” Tom asks.

“Practicing! For your show, might I add.” You say as you roll your eyes, slumping back down in your and leaning back. Tom picks up the flute that occupies the other chair in the room and hands it to you as he hesitantly sits down and closes the door while you put the flute on its stand.

“We both know that you know your part inside out, upside down and backwards Y/N. Besides, I need help with lines and Harrison isn’t here” He pleads.

“You know, somewhere out there, someone cares. Go tell them!” Maybe a bit of a dick line but you don’t feel bad for it right now, you'll apologize when you aren’t unbelievably annoyed with him. God, it bothers you that the hate weeks, as you’ve titled them, don’t line up this time. You hate that you’re mad at him and he’s not mad at you and truth be told that just makes you mad at yourself more than anything.

“Please, it’s just one scene and then I’ll be out of your hair until you don’t hate me anymore”

“Fine. What scene is it?” You take the script from his hands and flip to the green sticky note he points to. “Start at ‘three boys to a bed’ please” You pause for a moment and look for the line before starting. You may not be a drama major but you know to at least try and get in character, if you read this absolutely monotonous then Tom might as well have asked the wall to help him. So with as much Katherine Pulitzer energy you can muster, you read out the lines from the script.

“Is this really what it’s like in there? Three boys to a bed, rats everywhere and vermin…”

“What, a little different from where you were raised?” Tom replies in his Manhattan accent, teeth clenched. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little shocked by how quickly he slipped into character. You look up at him before saying thee next line, only to be met with the same angry and restrained aggression you heard in his voice mimicked in his expression.

“Snyder told my father that you were arrested for stealing food and clothing. This is why, isn’t it? You stole to feed those boys.” You look up at him again, already mostly knowing the scene from how many time you’d seen the show on your own, the script there as a crutch if you need it. You gather as much sympathy and understanding as you can in your tone, a stark contrast to his before you switch to confusion, your voice louder than before. “I don’t understand if you were willing to go to jail for those boys, how could you turn your back on them now!?”

“Oh I do not think you are one to talk about turnin’ on folks!” Tom stands up from his chairs and you do the same as you start your line.

“I never turned on you or anyone else”

“Oh no you didn’t you just double-crossed us to your father. Your father!” He’s shouting now, fully in character at this point.

“My father has eyes on every corner in this city!” You’re shouting too, thankful that the practice rooms are mostly sound proof. “He doesn’t need me spying for him. And I never lied. I didn’t tell you everything.” You finish as your voice comes back down to a reasonable volume.

Tom lets out an angry sigh somewhere between a sign and a grunt, teeth still clenched. “If you weren’t a girl you would be tryna talk with a fist in your mouth” Tom turns away slightly and leans against the wall, staring at a ceiling tile.

“I told you that I worked for the Sun, and I did. I told you my professional name is Plumber and it is. You never asked for my real one.”

Tom turns around rapidly, “I wouldn’t think I had to! Unless I knew i was dealing with a backstabber!” He takes another step towards you.

You scoff “Oh and if I was a boy you’d be looking at me through one swollen eye” You step forward as well and hold your fist up like you know Katherine does in the scene. Tom doesn’t say anything though. He doesn't follow up with the next line. You watch as his expression slips out of anger, his eyes soften. He breathes in as if to follow up with the line but his breath gets caught in his throat.

You feel his hand brush against your waist hesitantly a few times, as if he can’t decide if he should go through with it or not before you finally feel the warmth of his skin through your shirt. The room is silent. Only the sound of light even breathing between the two of you for five seconds. Five egregiously long seconds. His other hand grabs your wrist and moves your fist from under his chin until your palm is flat against his shoulder. You and Tom are pretty much chest to chest at this point, both anxiously waiting for the other to move or to make a sound. You realize that you’re not angry at him right now, all the annoyance you had with him had dissipated in this moment.

Tom moves first, leaning in. Both of you close your eyes and his lips falter against your own before a chapped and hesitant kiss followed by a slightly more confident one that you return. There's a pause between the two of you after you both pull away, a couple seconds where you let what just happened really sink in while trying to process it.

“Are you okay?” Tom asks, his accent is some weird mix of New York and his normal one.

“Yeah yeah. I’m okay.” You stumble over your words a bit. “I should probably get back to practicing though. King of New York is actually tough”

“Yeah for sure. I’ll let you get back to it.” Tom opens the door and leaves. He wishes he said another thing. Thanks maybe? You did help him with his lines. Or maybe sorry? He’s not really sure, so he just walks back to the black box, mentally cursing himself.

Tom wouldn’t sing any of the songs for you. Correction, any of his songs for you. Even though you were dying to hear the progress on Santa Fe, he refused, he wanted you to hear it when it was nearly finished, if he could hold off on it until the first show he would. Meanwhile Harrison would sing any song any chance he got, even if Davey wasn’t in them he still would.

“C’mon Tom you’re gonna have to sing it for me at some point” You slump against the locker next to his, your clarinet case hitting your knees as you do so.

“Yeah. Tech week” Tom teases with a smirk, “I already told you, you have to wait. Last time you heard me sing it was like five months ago, you’ll be blown away by the difference, trust me”

“Ugh. You are so annoying” Tom only shrugs and you roll your eyes and turn to Harrison who hadn’t even reached the two of you yet. “Haz make him sing for me”

“Can’t do that darling, he’s persistent” Harrison puts a hand on your shoulder when you sigh, miffed.

“What if I start playing the opening. Then what?”

“You’ll be vamping forever Y/n you don’t want to do that”

“Harrison hold this please.” Harrison holds his hands up as you put the clarinet case in his hands and put the instrument together as quickly as you can.

“Y/n you’re so dramatic.” You don’t respond, you just play the intro to Santa Fe, which is only two repeated notes. Tom cocks his head and looks at you as if to say really? “Why are you like this? If I sing you’ll stop?” You nod and Tom sighs, finally giving in.

“Folks we finally got a headline, ‘Newsies crushed as Bulls attack!’ Crutchies calling me, dumb crips just too damn slow” You continue to play even after he stopped singing. “That’s all you get, you said if I sang, you’d stop, and I sang.”

You roll your eyes again and pack up your instrument, thanking Harrison for holding the case when you take it from his hands. Tom closes his locker and the three of you head your separate ways for class

Tech week had arrived. The start of the most stressful week of the year for anyone involved with the musical. You were sitting in the pit warming up your third of five instruments along with the other musicians while the actors did their vocal warm ups onstage. Your spot in the pit allowed you to see onstage if you looked far enough to your left but only for parts that you weren’t playing in. You definitely wouldn’t be able to see your music and the conductor and the play at the same time. The amount of instruments and stands you have around you has to be some sort of safety hazard but that’s what happens when you have to play five instruments on one part. You’re looking over one part in Seize The Day when a trumpet plays next to your ear, spooking you enough to stop playing. Your friend Laura, being the source, sits in the spot behind you.

“That’s not where you sit” You joke as she leans forwards, elbows on her knees.

“Yeah but I haven’t seen you in a while and I missed you.” She shakes her head at you like it’s obvious.

“Hey! It’s not my fault you went to Aruba for a week”

“Yeah but before that it’s Tom and Harrison’s fault for stealing you from me all the time”  Laura laughs.

“They tend to do that apparently”

“Are you and Tom anything yet?” She asks blatantly.

“No. Why would we be anything?” You ask her back and she deadpans at you.

“You’re kidding right? You kissed in practice room.”

“Would you keep it down? He kissed me and it meant nothing”

“You kissed back and went red as a cherry when you told me”

“And still wish I hadn’t”

“You seen Cindy recently?” She asks. Cindy was playing Katherine and seemed to be having difficulty separating her character from herself, meaning that she is absolutely obsessed with Tom currently and thinks he’s just as enamoured with her.

“Hard not to. Anytime I look up she’s practically hanging off Tom. It’s like if she’s not within his sight, she’ll suffocate.” You roll your eyes. Cindy is nice. Kinda. Most of the time. But she just annoys you. More than anyone else like her has annoyed you. You hate how she treats people that she doesn’t like like they’re scum. She’s a classic Regina George type. Except you think that her getting hit by a bus wouldn’t solve any of her issues with her, maybe it’d make her voice less pitchy and annoying though.

“We can only hope” Laura says, making both of you laugh as she gets up and goes back to her seat.

About an hour and a half into the rehearsal you finally got to hear Tom sing Santa Fe and it gave your whole body chills. He’d found the power and hit the dynamic and emotion he needed, you might’ve started crying if you were watching the show. Tom and Harrison’s dynamic as Jack and Davey made you laugh, even while playing. You loved watching them together, even if you weren’t watching them you could still hear it and picture it in your head, you’ve known the boys long enough that you could probably guess what expressions they wore.

You couldn’t ignore the feeling that hit you a few different times during the show though. The unsettling, sickly, make-you-want-to-curl-up-in-a-ball feeling hit you more than once during the show but was definitely the worst during Something To Believe In. It makes you stiffen and for the first time in years your fingers fumble over the notes you’re supposed to be playing and you don’t have nearly as much air support as you need. The short version is that you sound bad. You’re messing up a part that is super exposed, it’s the only interesting thing happening behind the vocals and now it’s missing and if the gut feeling you already had was bad enough now your cheeks have gone bright red and the embarrassment has set in. Laura looks at you from across the pit, wordlessly asking you what’s wrong. You can only shrug while trying to redeem your note. Your part comes to its end and the conductor gives you that look. The one that tells you to work on it, you can only nod.

You run through it again right at the start of the break and it comes out perfectly.

“What happened?” Laura asks as you put the flute back on its stand.

“No clue. I’m getting water though.” You stand up, grabbing your water bottle as you do and precariously step around the plethora of instruments around you, Laura following. “It was so weird. This feeling in my stomach just kept growing more and more, to the point where I almost couldn’t breath. It happened a couple other times but that one was definitely the worst”

“When else did it happen?” Laura leans against the wall next to the fountain as you fill up your water bottle.

“Uh Jacks interview with Katherine, right before the ‘am I scared, ask me tomorrow’ line-”

“When Jack is being super suggestive”

“Yeah there. And the ‘the only thing I’m following is a story’ bit.” You shrug and take a few sips from your water bottle before filling up what you just drank and closing it, only to see Laura with a knowing grin on her face. “Oh no. What’s that look for.”

“You’re jealous.” Laura declares with a wiggle of her brow

“I am not jealous!” You guys start talking over each other.

“You totally are jealous!”

“Am not! What would I even have to be jealous of?”

“Cindy!”

“I don’t want anything that Cindy Dunn has”

“You want Tom”

“I don’t want Tom!” You nearly shout the last line. “Besides we would be horrible together. We get at each others throats too much. The amount of times I’ve called him an ass to his face and even more to Harrison? We’d be doomed” You and Laura start to walk back into the auditorium.

“Oh no. Y/n is yearning. We can’t let anyone know!” Laura jokes and you can only roll your eyes in response. “If you guys just figured out how to talk over things then you would be really great together. I can see it!”

“Laura, that's a huge ‘if’. We’ve been like this since we met. It’ll take a lot of time and energy that I’m not going to put in unless he does as well and he doesn’t like me like that so why would he?”

“I see how much you hate arguing with him” Laura starts to walk back towards the stage and thee pit, lowering her voice as you guys get within earshot of the people on stage, mainly Tom and Harrison. “I’m sure he hates it just as much”

“Who hates what now?” Tom comes to a bouncing stop next to the two of you, rolling up to the balls of his feet and then back down- the poor boy could never stop moving really.

“Uhm. My brother. He hates our- our dads um stew. Yup. Stew” Laura says with a semi confident nod tacked onto the end of the sentence which was anything but confident. “I’m gonna go over there now” Without another beat, Laura turns and goes back to her spot in the pit.

Tom decides to not ask any questions about what just happened, all three of you know that that didn’t work and Laura’s face is still bright red as she sits down.

“So did ya hear Santa Fe?” Tom asks

“No I must’ve missed that part” You respond with absolutely no hesitation on your part and a mostly straight face.

“You’re annoying. Tell me what you think.” Tom starts to poke at your arm, pulling a smile from you.

“Why do you wanna know?”

“Because I value your opinion. Duh” You roll your eyes, ignoring the small flip in your stomach. The look Tom gives you causes tons more of those same flips. Brown eyes wide, and caring, and hopeful, and endless. You think you could stare in them for forever and never get bored.

“I know what you wanna hear. Yes I got chills” Toms face breaks into a wide smile. “And Seize The Day made me tear up a little”

“‘Some day becomes somehow’” Tom asks, quoting the line he thinks caused you to tear up. You nod. “You always cry at that part”

“I can’t help it! It’s pretty! Stop bullying me, go bother Harrison instead”

“Whatever you say Y/n” Tom chuckles, poking your arm once again as he hops back up onto the stage.

From what you knew, Tom and Cindy only actually kissed on the last tech rehearsal, but it was easy to ignore it. As long as you didn’t look, you would be fine. You could manage that, right? Yeah. You could avoid looking and then your stomach wouldn’t tighten and your head wouldn’t spin.

The first show had gone swimmingly so far, the crowd was good, you were doing great, and you hadn’t let the thoughts of Tom and Cindy infest your mind yet. Anytime you felt they were getting too strong, you’d look over to Laura and she’d do something stupid when she noticed you looking, making you smile and ease your mind a little bit. What you hadn’t anticipated was the crowd's reaction during the shows. You knew the kiss was coming up, you knew the dialogue leading up to it and you and Laura wordlessly chatted throughout most of it, neither of you having to play. But then there was that split moment of silence, no dialogue, nothing, then the crowd cheering. Your breath hitched in your throat so abruptly that you had to let out a small cough, hoping that the audience wouldn’t notice.

It got easier, for the most part. You had created mental cues for when you should focus more on your music and how you sound, hopefully letting the kiss and the audiences reaction fall to the back of your mind while you were playing. It didn’t really hit you that the shows were over until you were playing the bows and exit music for the last time. The uproar of applause towards the end when you knew Tom and Harrison walked out always brought a smile to your face. You were so proud of them, truthfully. They were your best friends.

That night most of the cast and band gathered in Harrison’s living room to celebrate the end of the shows. You were all sitting in a circle playing paranoia and carrying on casual conversation when someone used Tom as their answer for one. It hadn’t occurred to you until then that he wasn’t in the circle.

“I’ll go find him” Cindy starts to stand up from her place on the floor, almost losing her balance as she does so. The person next to her reaches a hand out to try and stablazie her.

“Cindy it’s okay, I’ve got it” You stand up from your spot on the couch, between Harrison and Laura who shuffle closer together to take up the space you had just emptied. As you leave the circle, you miss the glare that Cindy sends you but Laura sends her a dirtier one back.

You already had a hunch about where Tom would be. You, him and Harrison would often find your way there when you were bored or you needed a break from the world. You push open the slightly ajar door to Harrisons room and look out the window. Sure enough Tom is there, sitting on the roof, all alone. You quietly push the door shut and head towards the window as well.

“Whatcha doin out here all alone?” You say as you climb out the window into the brisk night air.

Tom turns to look at you upon hearing your voice as you settle in the spot next to him. He shrugs. “Just wanted to be alone for a bit, away from everyone.”

“Do you want me to go then or can we be alone together?” Tom lets out an airy laugh.

“You can stay” You beam at him and he smiles back, handing you part of the blanket that was around his shoulders so that now you’re both protected from the chill.

Tom’s arm is warm against yours, you find yourself leaning into heat that he provides, your head slowly falling onto his shoulder. You stay like that for a while, overlooking Harrison’s backyard and watching the moon and stars in silence.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Tom pipes up, making you raise your head off his shoulder so that you can look at him, brows furrowed together.

“Where did this come from?” Tom’s eyes break away from yours and back to the stars.

“I don't know. I’m just curious”

“I’m not sure. I’d like to think it’s real, but I haven’t experienced it to know if it is.” You can’t ignore the way you feel Tom’s torso slump slightly at your response. “Do you?”

Tom only nods and then the two of you fall silent again, eventually laying back on the rooftop.

“I got no use for moonlight” Tom starts to sing quietly, as if just for you. “Or sappy poetry. Love at first sights for suckers”

“At least it used to be” You sing with him. Tom hums the next to lines on his own before singing the third.

“But I never planned on no one, like you” You fall silent again, peaceful smiles. Tom takes in a quick breath, you hear it and feel it, but he doesn't say anything immediately after. It takes a moment before words come out “I really like you Y/n. I have since I met you. Since we were twelve”

You don’t know how to respond at first. You run through a billion different things to say in your head and none of them seem to fit the way you want them to. When you realize how Tom must be feeling you start to panic a little more. Finally and answer slips out. “Sucker”

“It used to be for suckers!” Tom defends himself with laugh. “Gonna tell me if you feel the same? Or that you at least hate arguing with me?”

“You heard my entire conversation with Laura didn’t you?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Oh you mean the one where her brother hates her dad’s cooking? Yeah she’s not very quiet and is horrible at lying. It is so bad” Both of you can’t contain the bright laughs that ring out into the open air.

“So what if I do like you back? Then what?” You mumble.

Tom sits up slightly looking over at you. “So just to clarify you do like me”

“I didn’t say if I did or didn’t i just asked you what would happen if I did” You and Tom nearly talk over each other, wide smiles still plastered on your faces.

“Well I’m gonna need an answer that way I can show you what would happen”

“Well I do” You admit.

“You do?” Tom asks and you barely even start nodding before his lips are on you, soft and sweet like they were in the practice room, but this time you’re smiling into the kiss and it tastes like remnants of his throat coat tea and his post performance gatorade that he always had. His hand finds its way to your cheek and yours to the back of his neck, you ignore the uncomfortable cramp in your neck from the awkward position you’re in. Soon enough but also way sooner than you would’ve liked, Tom pulls away.

“You snuck up on me Tom.” You say, catching him slightly off guard. “It was really weird, because I loved being your friend and then suddenly when we were sixteen it just wasn’t enough anymore”

“Well, I’ll take you on a proper date next week to make up for lost time, yeah?” Tom takes your hand in his as he lies back down and rests it on his stomach.

“I’m up for whatever you got in store. Though we're gonna need to work on that arguing issue” You settle in with your head on Tom’s chest

“We will, for now lets just enjoy my pent house in the sky” Tom flips back on the Manhatten accent.

“You mean Harrisons rooftop?” You question.

“My penthouse. In the sky”

“Whatever you say loser”

tags: 

@hjosterfield @softholand @dahliaspidey @thequeensardine @counting-eyerolls @osterfieldholland01 @happymagicbee @artemisiaarm @moonlitswims @headsup-itsmostlypeter @bitchymathematician @melsbooktrash @ixchel-9275 @tommyhollandaisesauce @spideyyypeter @starlightfound @honeyyhuggs @nedthegay @ohyouremymedicine @awkwardfangirl2014 @badhollandfluff @soccerstud004 @nokiaholland @itseightbeats @miraculousmckenzie​ @worldoftom​ @thenoddingbunny-blog​ @thegirlwiththeimpala​ @the-crazy-fanfictionist​ @tomzfrog​ @unbelievableholland @keithseabrook27​ @yo-sugg​

add yourself ot my taglist here

[somedayonbroadway]

Hey hey! One of the Delancey cards says they grew up in the refuge. Look at how scared Oscar is when next to Snyder at the beginning of the fight scene. He flinches at that baton. I wonder if Jack saw them there.

Why do I love this.... so much?

I’ve always imagined the Delanceys both were at the Refuge at some point, but since you only specified that it was one of them and that they grew up there.... oh jeez.

Okay, so I always picture Morris as the older Delancey, I think it’s just me remembering the 1992 version, because it’s a bit clearer to me in that one. So Oscar and Morris’s dad did what he could. He honestly tried his best. But after their mom passed, he didn’t know what he could do. He was only working one job. He was depressed. And while he tried to take care of them, he couldn’t stand the pressure of the world while not having something to take the edge off.

So, when these very young kids (9 and 6) are found alone in an apartment that their father is supposed to be evicted from, they’re taken to the Refuge.

That’s where they meet Jack Kelly. He’s also nine years old. This will be the first time Jack escapes. But he won’t be alone. He’d take Morris with him.

Now, Morris doesn’t want to leave his brother who has been separated from him. Snyder locked Oscar in a different room. But Jack promised they’ll come back for him. So Morris believes him. After Jack and Morris escape, they discover the newsies together. And they’re practically inseparable.

But after a couple of months of trying and failing to get Oscar out of the Refuge, Morris starts to get antsy. Oscar is just a small kid who didn’t have a father and he whenever they went back to try and help him, he was always covered in more bruises. Morris would always sit and try to calm down his terrified brother while Jack tried to find weakspots in the bars or the walls.

They almost got caught every time and Jack would have to force Morris back out.

Two years go by. The boys still fight for Oscar every couple weeks. Morris makes sure to bring him some food or some blankets to keep warm. But he can see Oscar wasting away slowly. It’s only after two years, that Jack gets caught again. And he’s dragged back. Morris is not.

This time, Jack sticks to Oscar, protecting him from everything he can. He’s sentenced to four months in the Refuge for stealing. For the first month, it’s just him and Oscar against the rest of the place. Until another little boy is dragged into the room, kicking and screaming.

He’s tiny and blond and Italian and he’s terrified. He gravitates towards Jack, sensing somehow that this bigger kid will protect him. And Jack does. He protects Oscar and this new kid who only knows so much English. Snyder knows how close they all are. The three of them stick together like glue. So he makes it a point to separate them. To punish Oscar or Race if Jack is being bad.

When the time comes to escape, Jack can’t get them both out. Race is bleeding. He’d just been beaten almost to death by Snyder’s baton. He’s a year younger than Oscar. Oscar’s still in the other room. So Jack bolts with Race on his back. And he can never not feel guilty.

Morris is furious by the time Jack gets back. He doesn’t understand. He tries to go back immediately to try and get Oscar out, but Jack stops him, even while he’s trying to clean Race up. Morris would hardly be able to look at him. Jack would tell him he had to make a choice. They all would’ve died in there if they all stayed. This of course, does not make Morris feel better. He’d rip himself out of Jack’s grip and he wouldn’t talk to him for days. And that would just about kill Jack. Because this boy had been his best friend.

At this point, Oscar is about eight years old. He’s just stuck at the Refuge because he has nowhere to go. And Morris can’t bear it anymore. So Morris storms up to the Refuge’s front doors. This eleven, almost twelve year old kid, would just start banging on it. Snyder would take him in, lead him back to his office and calmly ask what the problem was, like he was a respectable warden.

Morris would break. He’d start sobbing and he’d ask what he had to do to have his brother back. Snyder would see this as an opportunity. He’d ask Morris to work for him. To spy for him. On the Newsies. It would break Morris’s heart at first. But the anger he felt at Jack would still be too fresh for him to say no.

So he’d accept.

Snyder would tell Morris to stay put for a second and he’d disappear, only to come back a few moments later with Oscar walking timidly behind him. Morris would just about collapse as he ran to hug him. Oscar would be so tense and terrified for such a long time. And the second he started to relax into the embrace, Snyder would gently peel him away. And he’d tell Morris, that if he proved he was a good worker, he’d let Morris have constant visits with Oscar and he’d get Morris a better job. So Morris does it.

Oscar is still in the Refuge for three more years. Morris does what Snyder wants. He spies on the Newsies. Tells him what bad things the Newsies have done, even if they haven’t done any bad things at all. It isn’t until Snyder makes a specific request that Morris takes pause.

Snyder wants him to get Jack back to the Refuge.

Morris says he will. But the second he sees Jack, he can’t do it. So he tells Snyder Jack ran away. That he’s not even in New York. Or that he’s hiding. He just pretends. He just wants Oscar to get out of the Refuge.

Snyder makes good on his word. He gets Morris a job working under Wiesel. He lets Morris visit with Oscar once every two weeks. And Morris is promoted from spy to muscle. His job is to keep the Newsies in line. Scare them as much as he can. And after three years, Oscar can either join him or stay at the Refuge.

This is why they hate Jack and Race the most out of the others. It’s why they target Race and why Race targets them. It’s why Race knows that their father is one of the strikers. But it’s also why Jack tries to joke with them. Because they know each other. Life just twisted them apart.

I can’t. I love this so much. Thank you for telling me that!

[poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow]

Tiny Dancer part 2

Part 2 of @fucking-petticoated-swashbuckler‘s and my fluffy, fluffy fic lol

Read Part 1 here!

So far, Spot seemed to be the only one who cared about timeliness.

He was slowly sinking into Jack and Specs’ couch, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Specs rushed around the kitchen, assuring Spot he didn’t need to help, just relax. The whole apartment smelled of turkey. If Spot turned his head, he could see the two birds roasting in the oven.

He stood up again when someone knocked loudly on the door. He walked over and exhaled slowly before turning the knob, trying to calm his accelerating heart rate.

Davey stood in the doorway, out of breath and flushed. Spot sighed internally.

“You’re late,” he laughed. “For the first time in your goddamn life.”

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry, it’s been fifteen-”

“No one else is here yet, Dave. You’re fine.” As Spot said it, his heart sank a little, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. He knew it was only a matter of time before everyone else showed up, and it wasn’t like he was waiting for someone in particular.

Was he?

Davey had taken off his coat and walked to the kitchen to chat with Specs and Jack, who had just come out of the bedroom. Spot sat back down on the couch. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone just yet, especially since there were only four of them there. Instead, he let his mind wander for a few minutes, thinking back to what he had done that week. Bought some groceries, gone to the gym, accompanied Race’s dance class again…

As soon as he thought about Race, Spot felt his face get hot, and he quickly shook his head. He grabbed his glass of water and took a long drink. He and Race were just friends, co-workers. They hadn’t even seen each other in months before a few weeks ago. Besides, Race didn’t even think of him that way.

Wait. Did Spot think of Race that way?

He didn’t have any more time to think about it, though, because then there was another knock at the door. Spot got off the couch again and pulled the door open, but this time it was Mush and Blink, Smalls and JoJo right behind them. Mush held a bottle of wine. Spot couldn’t stop a wave of disappointment from washing over him even as he greeted them. He stubbornly stamped it down.

“Specs is still cookin’, and Jack and Davey are talkin’ in the kitchen.” Spot nodded at Mush. “I don’t know where Specs wants that…I’m guessin’ the table.”

“Yeah, that’s a good place!” Specs called from the kitchen, where he was pulling one of the turkeys out of the oven. Mush walked over to set down the bottle, and the other three sat in various places around the living room. Spot closed the door and walked into the kitchen.

He needed a beer.

Over the course of the next forty-five minutes, the rest of the newsies trickled in. Romeo, Elmer, and Albert arrived, the latter two already engaged in a deep conversation involving something about Bigfoot and aliens. Then came Crutchie, carrying about seven pies with the help of Finch and Les, then Mike and Ike and Buttons, then finally Katherine and Sarah. After an hour, Spot was ready to explode. At this point, he had accepted the fact that he was, in fact, waiting for Race.

So where the hell was he?

“Someone’s always late on Thanksgiving.” Specs laughed and turned to Jack. “Wasn’t it you last year?”

“It wasn’t my fault we forgot the turkey!”

“Yes, it was!” Specs laughed again, turned to Spot. “And the year before that, it was Smalls. Unbelievable… people can’t make it a priority to get to family Thanksgiving dinners on time.”

Spot chuckled, but it was forced.

By that point, all the food was cooked and waiting on the table. Everyone else chatted cheerfully in the living room, obviously more patient than Spot, who was resisting the urge to grab another beer until he had eaten something. He turned to Specs, who was setting out plates and silverware. “Maybe we should…call ‘im or somethin’.” He tried to sound casual. It must have worked, because Specs nodded and reached for his phone.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Hang on-”

A heavy knock sounded at the front door before Specs could dial. Knowing exactly who it must be, Spot turned away from Specs and, as subtle as he could make it, took a deep breath before turning back as Jack pulled the door open.

Race walked in slowly, panting and red-faced. As he got closer, Spot could see the sweat glistening on Race’s forehead. He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes.

“Sorry I’m late.” Race’s voice was breathy, but still as strong as ever. “I must’a lost track of time. I was at the studio.”

Dancing. Of course. As always. Spot realized he’d been holding his breath.

“‘Bout time you showed up, Higgins,” he said, maybe a little too loudly. He lowered his voice a bit. “We almost started eatin’ without ya.”

“Good thing you didn’t,” Race replied with a laugh. “I’ve been dancing for three hours and just ran up four flights of stairs. If anyone needs to eat, it’s me.”

There was a moment before Albert broke the silence with a chuckle, then soon enough everyone was laughing. Specs’ voice silenced the group after what seemed like an unbearably long time.

“Alright everyone, find a seat. Plenty of turkey and carbs for everyone, with a limited veggie selection, per requests in last year’s suggestion box.” The laughter started up again as quickly as it had stopped.

“Gimme a sec before we eat,” Race said loudly, evidently trying to be heard over the rest of the group. “… bathroom.”

Spot rolled his eyes and set his second beer down on the table. Race came back out about two minutes later, his face washed. He smelled significantly nicer as he sat down in the empty chair next to Spot.

Everyone started grabbing food and passing the dishes around. And Spot definitely didn’t feel anything when Race’s hand brushed his as he passed him a plate. Or when he passed him the macaroni and cheese, and his fingers seemed to linger a little longer on Spot’s. Nope, Spot felt nothing. Nothing at all.

Desperate to break the tension, he nudged Race’s arm with his elbow. “Havin’ fun teaching your beginners to spot?”

Race groaned and shook his head. “Why can’t these teenagers just understand that you just look at one single place for the whole turn?” He chuckled. “Sometimes it seems like they’ll never end up completing a single pirouette.”

“How many can you do again, Higgins?”

Race pensively looked into his mountain of mashed potatoes for a moment. “You talking fouettés or normal pirouettes?”

“Both?” Spot shook his head and smiled. “And I’m expectin’ proof.”

“Challenge accepted.” Race stood up and started to push his chair in. “I think my record is eight or nine pirouettes? Better try before I gain too much weight.”

“And fouettés?” Spot’s eyes tracked Race’s path away from the table. “I think your leg might be a bit too long to do those in here without breakin’ anythin’.”

“I’ve seen him do plenty of turns, but he’s had about three glasses of wine, Spot,” Sarah interjected with a laugh. “Get back here, Race. You can show off when you’re sober and have the balance to keep your turning axis upright.”

Race came back to the table with a sheepish grin. He punched Spot lightly in the arm. “You tryin’ to kill me, Conlon?”

Spot could feel himself blushing again and hoped everyone would think it was the alcohol. “Maybe?” He joked tentatively as he turned back to his cranberry sauce. Race laughed and bumped Spot’s shoulder playfully with his own, and Spot felt his face get even hotter. His throat started to feel tight, like he couldn’t breathe. He pushed out a laugh, then another. The last one sounded less forced. Finally.

That got everyone else laughing again, and Race, probably mostly because of the wine he had drunk, laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. As it was, he was leaning heavily on Spot by the time the laughs turned to drunk giggles and then stopped completely.

Maybe it was just the alcohol, but Spot found that he didn’t mind Race leaning on him one bit.

[mademoiselleenjolras]

Welcome Home, Part Six

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Jimmy made it back to town four months ago Lives to tell of things no one could bear to know Keeps his guard up now a lot goes undiscussed Focuses on fighting what he finds unjust

Spot Conlon was not a young man Katherine had expected to frequent the offices of the Sun when he grew up. If she were honest with herself, she hadn’t truly expected anything of Spot when he grew up, except maybe construction. He had just never shown any interest in a bigger life. And yet, there he was,  slapping a paper down on her desk with that characteristic expressionless face, with no explanation other than a low “I need ya ta run this,” in his familiar Brooklyn accent. She had picked it up, scanned the contents, and had nearly fallen out of her chair.

“Is this all true?”

“Every word.”

When they had left for training and eventual deployment, Spot’s leadership skills had seen him through the ranks faster than any of the other boys, even Jack and Davey. Spot Conlon had simply never had time to follow orders, and at least in this case it had served him well. That is, up until the end of the war, when it had left him stuck in Europe for a considerably longer time than most of the others. Now, it gave him an even greater insight into just what it meant to have his men reintegrate into society.

So Katherine started publishing his stories. They ran anonymously, a bigger selling point than a simple byline these days, and they confronted things that no one was quite ready to talk about yet. The first few were admittedly rough, if well-written overall. She helped him clean it up a bit, and it ran. The next week, he was back with another article, and they repeated the process until Spot Conlon’s anonymous war correspondences were a regular column. He had a modest following, nothing spectacular, but there was a decent interest in the views of a man who was actually there.

Through these weekly meetings, Katherine found out the only slivers of information Spot would ever give about his time aboard a navy ship off the coast of France. He had been a Lieutenant Commander, he had his own bunk after a time, there were men even younger than himself under his command, his ship went down. The difficulty trying to decipher icebergs from passing ships when the entire deck was blacked out to keep from being seen was fair game for discussion. The time he had spent in the water after seeing his ship sink (two days, she looked it up as soon as the reports became public record) was not. She had made the mistake of asking exactly once, and Spot had all but stormed out of her office without another word. She ran the article anyway.

The next week, he was back again. He didn’t say a word about their last conversation, electing to ignore it completely. As if it had never happened. Katherine found herself in no position to argue, instead accepting the piece and making her edits, helping him get the word out about the vets that were returning home to nothing, or to too much. Helping him call out the people in charge when the paychecks and promised money failed to arrive.

“The Calls We Make: decisions forced upon a Navy warship”

“Thank You For Your Service: veterans jobs not there when they return”

“I Can Still Hear The Sirens: adjusting to New York after years on the front”

“White House Stops Paying: veterans go weeks with no paycheck”

“Just Like It Was Before: Changes Before and After the War”

Spot Conlon had always been a fighter, always needed to point his anger and determination at something. When they were young, it had gotten him into nearly as much trouble as Jack. She had cleaned up his split knuckles and roller her eyes at his temper, but she couldn’t really ask him to change. Refusing to back down from a challenge had kept him in charge of the Brooklyn newsies for all those years. Katherine imagined it was the kind of thing that was more than helpful when one was fighting on the front lines of a war, too. That fighting spirit had gotten him this far. If he needed to turn it on something new now that he was home, if he wanted the opportunity to fight injustice as opposed to searching out barroom brawls despite what she and the rest of the world had expected of him, she would gladly give him the hand he deserved. They had changed the world once with the power of the press; perhaps they could do it again.

Welcome home, my boys Welcome home, my sons Welcome home, my husband Welcome home, my love Welcome home Welcome home Welcome home