#she likes watching newsies too

[broadwaynewsie]

Have a picture of my dog

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

i’m a little late to this but i’d love to hear your hc’s for any of the main npmd characters!!! (especially grace or pete!!)

oooooohhhh baby hell yeah hell yeah

hyper specific pete headcanons:

sits crammed into the tiniest ball possible, like, full knees to chest, arms wrapped around shins, hunched tiny -- he's so damn tall that it looks WILD but he Cannot and Will Not Sprawl

left handed, but very aggresive about it, he owns literally every left handed tool; scissors, notebooks, etc..

really only likes sweets, he has to actively make himself to eat shit that isn't just insanely sugary (and, like, he doesn't hate everything savory) but if he didn't need it to survive i dont think he'd eat anything but desserts

really good dancer techncially, but he has a ton of trouble doing anything artistic with his movement or expressions

always cold at all times forever

cannot and will not get his drivers license

grace:

in love with esther from veggie tales

loves cutesy things like sanrio and strawberry shortcake from an aesthetic standpoint but she doesn't ever really buy anything specifically branded, and refuses to go into stores like hot topic where they'd sell it becuase she think's they're satantic

her and her parents always watch old movies from the 40's and 50's when things were 'simpler' and more 'wholesome' (a lot of the very rauchy innudendos packed into said movies go right the fuck over her head)

she's one of those girls who in, like, 6th grade decided she wanted really neat handwriting, so she practiced that specific handwriting that's all round and cutesy and even

she uses a tinted lip balm and feels really rebellious about it (and slightly guilty)

loves those grandma strawberry candies

has a really, deeply, intensely curated pintrest and NO OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA

steph:

dyed her hair that specific purple-red color in middle school that every cool, edgy tumblr girl did

she eats like a person who got her menu straight from tiktok, like takis, monster, airhead sour strips,,,,, she does think this makes her cool and unique

prefers ankle socks but she wears crew socks when it became clear people thought that they looked cooler

vapes the fruitests, most artifically flavored shit

she has not left the house without eyeliner on since she was 12

she plays guitar and sings really well (it's her mom's old guitar; her mom was a honey queen winner and handed her the guitar to hold onto for 'just a second' while she went to do things with roman murray,,,, she did Not Come Back)

her car keys are on a lanyard with 400 million key chains

ruth:

she loves primary colors and painting her nails bright, mismatched colors and fun patterns, so she owns a lot of fun clothes/makeup/nail polish, but she gets too into her own head about it and never wears it out of the house

the physical embodiment of waiting until everyone leaves the house and taking out her laptop to sing along to musical theatre karaoke tracks

misses popcorn so bad :(

big dc nerd, but she does love the marvel hero squirrel girl

her first 'porn' was gay newsies smut fanfic

she's a middle child (OBVIOUSLY), she has a little sister whose really sporty and popular (and she's really jealous of her) and an older sister whose in college (the older sister is the hatchetfield bee from tgwdlm)

she probably vaped once a theatre cast party and had a panic attack in the bathroom

richie:

bleaches and dyes his own hair So! Badly! like his forehead is blue constantly and it turns green in a day and every surface of his home is stained blue

has spent hours trying to get the marble out of a ramune bottle

inexplicably knows a lot bird facts

had a close up magic phase as a kid which does impact his current day

has a samsung with like four million phone charms

he's the friend with a car but good fucking lord he's a bad driver it's so bad for his two friends with anxiety disorders

horrible with money, he spent like all his bar mitzvah money in a day on like a thousand dollar gaming laptop and a really rare anime figurine

wants to be a streamer so bad

i feel like he's an oldest child but in the way where he's the older twin or something and then has one or two little siblings, like it's a very vauge version of oldest

pierced his own ears and it went badly

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 55: Resolved Debt

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

For the rest of the day I keep myself busy by cleaning out the entire house. Every time I look over at my suitcase in the corner my stomach ties into a knot. Maybe Alfie’s right. I shouldn't be here. All that’s happened since I got here has gone from complicated to worse. And- 

Okay, where is Thomas? I take another glance out the window. Mr. Solomons has returned with his gang but Thomas is missing. He wouldn’t forget to accompany his friend back to his car. Did something come up?

I leave Charlie asleep on the sofa and stick my head out the door to call across the street.

“Where’s Thomas? I thought he was with you.”

Alfie looks up and sees me shouting. He motions for his men to wait and walks over to the front steps, leaning his cane on the railing.

“The man left for some errands. Mentioned something about the foundation or whatever.”

“Just him? No one else went with him?”

He scoffs. “How the fuck would I know?”

That doesn’t sound like Thomas. All these weeks he’s stressed about security and keeping in pairs. He would have told Alfie where he was going.

“Alone…” A light flicks on in my head and panic sprints through me. Polly! “That’s means-! I need to find him!”

I lurch forward to start running but Alfie reaches out and grabs my arm. No no no! This must be what Polly set up! Changretta will want to get Thomas alone so he can kill him-!

“Whoa, whoa.” Alfie tugs me back. “Whatever this mess is, you are not in it.”

I try to pull away. “Polly did this! She-!”

“Not. Your. Business. You want something to do? Go tend to his boy.”

“I-”

“Verena.” The Jewish gangster gives me a certain look. “We both know that a father without his son is the worst thing we can let happen to him. He needs someone like you to look after Charlie.”

“I have been!” I cry out with a cross between rage and despair. “And he never tells me anything! I am not going to wait for a note saying he’s been shot!”

“Steenstra, coming from a man who knows how Tommy thinks, let me say this. He has strange ways of showing affection.” Alfie, seeing that I’ve calmed down a fraction, pats my shoulder. “I’ll leave it at that.”

Yes, because that cleared up so many questions! I watch the man stride back to his car and see him give a final wave as the vehicle starts driving away. So I’m subjected to what all other Shelby women struggle through. Staying safe indoors while I wait for Thomas to tell me what’s going on. 

Thud! The sound of the back door sends me sprinting down the hall. No more of this-! 

“Polly?”

The Romanian woman walks past my shocked face and starts to light a cigarette.

“What a surprise,” I droll darkly. “Are you here to apologize to Charlie for killing off his dad?”

She flicks some ash into the sink. “Tommy isn’t dead.”

Not dead? Not…? Okay, then what did happen? She can’t hide it from me! Polly’s worried just as I am!

I clench my fists and march straight up to her. “Somebody better start telling me what the fuck is going on right now-!”

“We’re holding a family meeting,” Polly explains all too calmly. “I’ll explain everything then. Right now, keep your head clear. You don’t need to pick up Tommy’s hot-headedness.”

“My head clear? My head clear?” I hiss. “Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been trying to keep a clear head throughout these past weeks?”

Polly just shakes her head and walks off to see Charlie. My shoulders slump and I lean against the wall. Not Polly too. Is Ada the only other one who understands this insanity? Can somebody tell me anything?

Knock knock.

I cannot handle any more of this. That better be a bloody angel because, dear God, I need some good news-!

“Hello.”

Thomas. It’s Thomas. Alive. Holding a parcel.

“Thank Christ. You son of a bitch!” 

My anger fazes into frustrated relief and my knees buckle. Thomas uses his free hand to grab me just before I can crumple to the ground. He stands me up and I bury my face into his warm coat. At the same time I weakly pound a fist against his shoulder, still raging about his return.

“Y-You could’ve- I thought you were going to die!” I gasp. “What happened, Thomas? What the fuck is going on?” I look back at the parcel. “And what is this? More guns?”

Thomas clears his throat and helps me stand straighter. “Verena, about the argument from before. I understand that you’re only looking out for your family. None of this is your fault. I know you’re not working for Changretta.”

“Thomas… That’s really sweet, and I accept your apology, but just moments ago I was about to pull my hair out worrying about if you had been killed!” 

“Here, here. Let’s get inside.” Thomas ushers me back into the warm house and shuts the door. “I know, none of this has been fair for you. And the Hudson-”

“Don’t mention the car, Thomas. I needed to stop keeping quiet and thought that it would help-”

“Oh it does, love.” Thomas licks his lips. “It’s a gorgeous car. But I still owe you a big apology for this whole mess. So to make it up, Charlie and I picked out this a few days ago. Thought you’d like it.”

He passes me the box. Why does he look… scared? Excited? It’s hard to tell. And why is the box light? I remove the top and peer inside. It’s- It’s… A beautiful white coat! An elegant, warm coat that feels almost too soft to the touch. He picked this out for me?

My jaw drops and I immediately start shaking my head. “Thomas, I cannot accept this. It’s too much.”

Thomas sees the joy in my eyes and refuses to take the parcel back. “‘Course not. You need something to keep you warm here. Please.” He puts a hand over mine and gently pushes the box further against me. “Please take it.”

“It’s genuine fox fur!” I gush. “This must have cost a fortune! If I wear this half of England will come running expecting me to be some prime duchess or somebody important.”

“You are important. To us.”

He didn’t say ‘to me.’ Is this an apology for the argument or saying sorry for pushing me onto the ‘women to pay no mind’ list?

“Thanks again for watching Charlie.”

He’s had his hands full with this vendetta business that he’s had no time for his own son. A steep understatement. So was I wrong? Thomas really does care? He just… has strange ways of showing affection.

I grudgingly accept the gift and smile warmly. “You never need to thank me for watching him.”

Thomas closes his eyes and rubs his temple. “There’s so much I need to thank you for, love.”

Then why do I still feel pushed away?

“Thomas.” I hold up the coat. “You don’t need to apologize with this. Just promise me you will keep me informed. Promise me.”

He leans against the wall I’ve backed him into and sighs. “I can’t.” His piercing blue eyes look down at me with something I can’t quite decipher. “You know why.”

I bite my lip and take a deep breath. “Yes. I know why. But it doesn’t hurt to ask again.”

I love you, Thomas! And it makes me saddened with worry and sick with anger that I will never be good enough for you.

Thomas starts to reach over but holds back. “I know you still believe I’m worth saving. But- But all I’ve given you are more problems. You don’t-”

“Tommy.”

Polly cuts him off and motions for him to follow her to the parlor. Did she do that on purpose? How am I supposed to pry anything out of Thomas without being interrupted?

Thomas sits in an armchair, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, and stares at Charlie playing with his blocks. He doesn’t notice right away when Polly offers him a drink.

“What do you think you’re going to tell Arthur?” she asks.

Thomas doesn’t blink. “I’m going to tell them the truth.”

“Did she like the coat?” Charlie asks shyly from the floor.

Thomas doesn’t answer right away so I speak for him. “I love it, Charlie. It’s beautiful. Did you help pick it out?”

He grins proudly. “Yeah! It was the softest one.”

In the corner of my eye I see Thomas look over at me. He’s still holding something back. But what?

Polly moves over to look out the window. “They’re here.”

I will have to wait for another time. Again. I was so close to telling him.

Another family meeting. Another awkward silence while everyone waits for Thomas to speak. This time I choose to wait with Charlie in the hall while everyone else gathers around the table.

After a minute Arthur speaks up. “Heard there was a shooting today.”

Thomas nods. “Yeah. I killed three men today. Now our enemies will have to wait.”

Arthur and I exchange the same look of surprise, while Lizzie and Ada don’t look the least bit shaken. That’s what was waiting for Thomas today. But he lived.

Charlie tugs at my skirt and points to his dad. “Was daddy in trouble?”

“No, no,” I whisper and kneel down next to him. “Your vader just met up with some bad men.”

“Suppose they took you by surprise?” Arthur asks gruffly.

“No. I knew they were coming.”

Hold the phone. He knew?

Polly speaks up. “A few months ago I received a letter from Luca Changretta, offering to spare my son if I gave up Tommy. And I gave Tommy up.”

“Which is the plan that Polly and I agreed on,” Thomas explains. “I knew Luca would want to pull the trigger himself so I used this as a setup to bring him in.”

He locks eyes with me and sees my growing irritation. All this time? He knew all this time what he was getting himself into and he told me nothing! 

“I didn’t get Luca, but I got three. All right?” He walks over and leans down to pick Charlie up. “Come here, you.”

Johnny Doggs holds up a glass. “I thought you’d gone soft. I drink to you, Tom.”

“So you got three?” Uncle Charlie asks.

Thomas nods. “I got three.”

“Well, I drink to you, Tom.”

Charlie looks back and forth in confusion. “Dad, you got three what?”

Thomas laughs and pokes his chest. “I got three shillings for a two-shilling horse.” I guess that’s one way to put it. “Now, my boy, you come with us, eh?”

Charlie giggles and gives me a wave goodbye. Arthur lets out a laugh and ruffles the boy’s hair.

“Been playing with Aunt Verena, eh Charlie?”

Suddenly Thomas’ gaze hardens. “No, Arthur.”

“Why not? She’s basically a sister.”

Yes. Why not? I should think that I deserve aunt status at this point. And why is Polly looking at Thomas like that? Almost like she knows something…

The Romanian woman catches me looking and busies herself by grabbing her coat. “I’m picking up Michael from the hospital tomorrow. Then I'm dropping him off to Mr. Gold on the outskirts.”

I stifle a laugh. “Michael? In the woods? He’s going to hate it.”

Polly rolls her eyes. “He’s going to deal with it.”

Once she walks out, Thomas sticks his head back in, with Charlie still clinging to his neck.

“We’re going out for a drink. When I bring Charlie back for his nap, will you watch him ‘til I get back tonight?”

I put my hands on my hips and give him a cheeky glare. “I suppose Charlie can spend more time with his non-aunt.” My teasing fades. “You’re not staying?”

Thomas notices my disappointment and tilts my chin up. “I've got some paperwork but I’ll be back. I promise.”

Thomas does fulfill his promise… eventually. He brings Charlie back just as it starts to turn dark, tucking the yawning child into bed. But he walks back out again, no doubt off to overwork himself. Thomas seemed eager to come back but does not return until the early hours of the morning. I don’t know what kept him but when I hear the door open I put down the dishes I’m washing and head straight for him.

“You’re back late. Charlie’s- Thomas? What is it?”

His face. All hints of conquering and happiness from earlier are gone. Replaced by a sad stare. He looks as if someone just slapped him.

Thomas’ mouth opens and closes while he tries to think of what to say. He pinches the bridge of his nose and removes his hat.

“Did Polly tell you?”

Tell me what? In case he hasn’t noticed yet, I’ve been kept in the dark with many important bulletins as of late. 

“I take that as a no.” Thomas lets out a deep breath. “Lizzie, she’s… pregnant.”

Tug! My body goes still and I grip the dish towel even harder. The blood drains from my face. My heartbeat screams in my ears. I lean against the wall, keeping my shocked, distraught face hidden away. All this time…

“Th-That’s wonderful, Thomas,” I manage to say through my shreiking thoughts. “Another baby is another blessing.”

I feel Thomas put his warm hand on my tense shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Alright? Alright?! Is he fucking joking?!

“Yes, just tired.” I pull away and fling the towel onto the counter, changing to a colder persona. “Is there anything else, Mr. Shelby?”

My heartless tone hits Thomas square in the chest. A sorrowful look freezes over his face. Good.

“No.”

“Congratulations again. I’m sure Charlie will be happy to have a sibling.”

I rush back to my room and fight the urge to slam the door right off its hinges. It’s happening all over again. They have a baby, he marries her, I’m pushed away again. Sticks and stones, best wishes to them both. At least Grace brought a sense of peace to Thomas. Lizzie only seems to bring out the rough side of him.

Lizzie Stark? Lizzie fucking Stark. Back to his old ways. He will kiss any woman but me. Always another woman. Just when he starts to open up, he uses someone else. Is my love invisible to him? There he goes again, back to Lizzie while I’m taunted for being single. 

Thud! That was the front door.

Yes. Go, Thomas. That’s one fucking context clue you pick up on! I want to be alone.

I’m just another whore to you, Thomas Shelby. You’ve said it yourself. We’re all whores, we just sell different parts of ourselves. I’ve sold you my time. Each year I saved my time for you and your family, your Shelby Company Limited. And for what? 

Ring! Ring!

If that’s Lizzie Stark I’m going to rip the phone clear from the wall! I roughly pick up the receiver. On the other end I hear the distinct chatter of two people.

“Verena?”

No. No. No. I do not need a talk full of pity.

“Please, Finn… Not now. You too, Ada.”

I hear Ada sigh. “He told you?”

I choke back a sob and wipe the pooling tears from my eyes. “Yes. God smiles on us again.”

“Verena-”

“PLEASE!” I shriek and cover my mouth to keep myself from breathing too fast. “Just- Just leave me be.”

I hang up before they can argue. That does it. I’m not playing this game anymore. As soon as this bloody fight is over I’m packing my bags for home! Company employee or not, I will not stick around to work in these harassing conditions. Despite my lingering love for that klootzak, it’s not enough to win me over to stay anymore. No more moral obligation. My debt is finally paid.

Maybe I will be too cold, Thomas. Too empty and numb. But I’ve followed you around too long, hoping you might love me back. If this is what it takes to earn love, it’s a cost I’m not willing to pay.

And yet even if I’m leaving for good, my heart will never be free from you.

@meadows5

[rhysdoesstuff]

My thoughts on TUTS Newsies!!!

It’s a long post folks, so here you go:

First of all, holy shit was that show good

Second of all, here are my thoughts about the show, in a mildly unordered manner-

During Carrying the Banner, the top part of Crutchies crutch broke off, so he spent the rest of the song, and a bit into the next scene hobbling around with the broken crutch until he could leave stage and get it fixed (they all did such a great job ignoring it) (I also feel it’s worth mentioning it got broken when Jack used it to beat up the Delaney Brothers)

When the Newsies found out the price of papes was raised, and were trying to figure that out, Wisel kept having to deal with Newsies moving towards the paper station, then backing away, and it was funny to watch him grow more and more frustrated with them all.

During one of the songs, Davey carried Les around on his shoulders for a bit and I loved it!

MEDDA. She is an absolute powerhouse of a singer and I love her. A very Very powerful voice, that I adore and love. Plus her outfits are phenomenal. I love them.

During That’s Rich, there was a man onstage watching it, and every time the name Frank was said, it was said to him, and he had such funny reactions to it all!! 

I don’t know if it was intentional, but when Kathrine went on her tangent about “Like someone said, "power tends to corrupt, and absolute power" she did a little voice, and it sounded a bit like Pulitzer, and now I headcannon Pulitzer saying that to her, and her using those words against him.

During the last few seconds of Santa Fe, as Jack is hitting that final amazing high note, the projection behind him turns from the dreary city streets to a bright and vibrant painting of Santa Fe and a sunset, and it was beautiful, but it was only there a few seconds before blackout and intermission. I loved it though.

Right before King of New York when Davey announced that they “launched the strike in a most auspicious manner” and no one cheers, there was one person who gave a little Hurrah, and that was Mr. Jacobi, who was walking offstage after dropping off the water. It had the audience laughing and I loved it.

Before the Watch What Happens reprise, when Davey asked Jack if what he is painting is Santa Fe, he says Santa Fe in a sing song voice, and he removes his hat as Jack does at the end of Santa Fe, and that was amazing to watch.

Jack, when he is painting during Watch What Happens Reprise, he puts on a red shirt over top of his undershirt. Then he leaves stage and that shirt is never seen again and I’m so confused at why it was there. I loved it, but then he was right back into the amazing blue shirt- so. Yeah.

THE FEMALE BRONX NEWSIE. We love her! I was able to track her through the show, she was in the other group Newsies numbers as well, and was doing an amazing job!

Also, Race. Let’s talk about Race. I absolutely loved him. He was so tall. Taller then everyone else (except maybe Davey, cause he was tall too, though I’m not sure as tall as Race)

In addition, I’m not sure if it was bad shadows, or intentional, but it kinda looked like Race had a black eye? Which would be in character. It’s probably my bad eyesight making it uncertain though. Also! Race’s elbows were all red after the fight. No other Newsies had as noticeable injuries. 

SPOT!!! SPOT AND ROMEO WERE PLAYED BY THE SAME PERSON. They did amazing with both characters, but I spent so long staring at Spot going, wasn’t that Romeo? Until I checked the program and went, Wait, that was actually Romeo! I’m not going insane!!

THE DANCING!!!! They had different choreo from Broadway which I loved. It was wonderful, I loved it so much, and everyone did such a good job. They were doing flips all over the place, and I’m not even sure what I saw half the time, but I know it was good.

The lighting was amazing, and I loved how it was used to set the energy level for each scene!! Also, the projections were beautiful, and paired wonderfully with the amazing set, which was rearrangeable!!!

Pulitzer had a really thick accent, which wasn’t fully New York. I can’t quite place what it was, but whatever it was, it was noticeable, and that made it funnier when Jack mimicked him at one point.

At the very end of the musical, when Jack buys papes and decides to stay, Kathrine buys papes too, and goes to celebrate with the Newsies, and someone puts a newsies hat on her head, which was adorable and which I loved.

[hexmari]

Newsies Beach Headcanons 🏝️☀️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thefactsofthematter]

hello newsies tumblr! i’m back to post a scene i found in a random wip folder, from a fic that will probably never exist in full lol

please enjoy some sad canon era javid <3

-

"...and I know we don't pray the same way, you and I, but your folks said you might not mind it if I sat with you and did this. Only one God, ain't there, so I figures we can ask Him for all the help we can get, every which way. Ain’t no harm in extra prayers."

That's Jack's voice.

David is awake, sort of, but too tired to open his eyes. His body is itchy, but he's too tired to scratch himself. His throat burns, so he doesn't dare try and speak.

He just lays there.

"This was my Ma's." He's placing something in David's hand. A string of beads, it feels like. "I should take the time to sit and pray it more often. She carried it everywhere. Only thing I've got left of her, really."

He wraps the beads around David's palm.

"You start at the bottom, see," Jack continues, as if he knows David's listening, "and you say a prayer for every bead. And you gotta have an intention, right— mine for today is that I'm asking God to get you better, 'cause you're starting to scare everyone, Dave, what with how you just keep getting sicker and the fever won't break. We can't go losing you anytime soon, so you've gotta get yourself better as soon as you can."

He's very sick, David realizes. That's why he can't move.

He's a bit scared.

But it's hard to stay scared for long with Jack Kelly holding your hand, so he starts to feel calm again.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti," Jack murmurs.

David hadn’t realized Jack knew Latin. Wonders where he learned it, since he would've left school before the grades they started teaching it. He only went to school until he was eight— he told David that.

"Credo in Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae..."

Jack continues on in words that David's tired brain can't make sense of, but it's rhythmic and soothing. There's a cadence to it like Jack doesn't actually know what he's saying, has just memorized the sounds, probably at church— it's like how David felt about some Hebrew prayers when he was little, just echoing back what he heard others speak.

From bead to bead, Jack mumbles quiet prayers, and David finds himself, somewhere in his fever-addled brain, feeling quite charmed and grateful that Jack would show him this private, vulnerable side of himself. His faith is deeply personal to him, David knows— it's there in the way he never puts on his arrogant show towards the nuns, the way he's quick to take his cap off even on the steps of the church, the way he scrubs the littlest newsies into their very best shape on Saturday nights and drags them to mass on Sunday mornings. David loves to watch him in those short moments before he eats his dinner each day, lips moving silently as he gives thanks.

It's a softer side of Jack Kelly that often stays well-hidden, but makes itself very endearing when it peeks through.

"I think I might be praying for a miracle," Jack sighs, after a long time of quiet whispering, counting along the beads. His voice is a bit shaky now. "But they happens, you know. They said so in the good book. I know it's the very same God lookin' after you and I, and I know He loves you and won't take you away from us here on Earth, not just yet. Ain't your time."

And he takes the beads from David's palm, replacing them with his own hand. He intertwines their fingers and squeezes.

David tries to squeeze back. It's weak, pitiful, but enough for Jack to gasp.

"I knew it," he whispers. "Oh, I knew it, I knew it, Dave. You're there, ain't you? You're listening."

And David wishes he could give him anything more, but he can feel sleep creeping up on him again, so he lets it come. Not much else he can do, but it's nice to hear some hope in Jack's voice.

[auspicious-manner]

maybe a little morris delancey x ballet dancer!reader and him getting all soft when he sees her perform up on the stage?

oh i am ALL for this. as an ex-dancer, this was a dream to write! i tried not to include too much terminology so it wouldn’t get confusing.

so sorry this took so long, life has gotten very busy being back at university. but i’m trying to keep up as much as possible!

fem reader x morris delancey

warnings: none

mike taglist: @diorgirl444

Tough

•

“whaddya say to spendin’ the night with me, pretty girl?” your boyfriend, morris delancey, asked as you walked down the streets of new york city, hand in hand. the sun was just beginning to disappear behind the horizon, lighting the city up in an ethereal orange glow.

you leaned your body closer into his arm. “as lovely as that sounds, i got a show tonight.”

in order to make some extra cash to survive in new york, you got a job at medda’s theater performing three shows a week. when asked what special talents you had in your interview, you told medda that you had trained in ballet since you were young, but given that you barely had enough money to keep food on the table, you couldn’t afford pointe shoes despite being trained on them.

on the spot, she offered you a deal; typical performers performed one to two shows a week, but if you could handle it, she’d give you three shows a week and take the cost of the shoes out of your pay every other week. to you, that deal sounded like a dream come true.

morris never came to your shows, he always said he had “business to attend to” on the nights you performed. you weren’t really sure what that meant, but you could assume it had something to do with harassing those newsie boys that you felt a bit of sympathy for. he always claimed he was too tough to be seen watching a show in a theater.

morris threw his head back dramatically as you both walked. “you’re always at that theater. we never get to spend time together anymore.”

you smiled playfully. “you know, you could come to my show tonight since you keep avoidin’ it like the plague. what’s it gonna hurt you, morris?”

he thought about it briefly. “i could take a night off, come watch you do your little thing. how about that?” morris asked, half joking.

you immediately burst into a grin, ignoring the fact that he sounded a bit sarcastic with that proposal. all you’ve ever wanted was for your boyfriend to come watch you do what you do best. “that sounds perfect.”

unbeknownst to you, morris didn’t exactly want to see your show. sure, he loved you and would do pretty much anything you asked him to, but his idea of a fun night wasn’t going to a theater to watch a boring show with a bunch of old people. but seeing how you beamed at the idea of him finally coming to watch you made him feel like the only thing worse than going would be not going.

you stopped walking so you could stand in front of him, his tall stature standing over you. “the show starts at 7. you promise me you’ll be there?”

morris hesitated before nodding. “wouldn’t miss it for nothin’.”

you stood on your toes to reach up and give him a soft kiss. “i have to start getting ready. i’ll see you there?”

he put his hands on your hips, pulling you close. “of course.”

you whispered an okay before removing yourself from his grip, as much as you didn’t want to leave. you weren’t far from the theater, and when you got there, you found that you had approximately two hours to get fully ready and warmed up.

your dressing room was small and compact and below ground level. it was the only room medda could provide you, but you were thankful to even have a dressing room. there was one small window near the ceiling that provided a small look into the streets of new york city.

as you applied your stage makeup, you heard a light tapping coming from the window. you frowned, as hearing rhythmic noises directly against the glass was uncommon. you pulled your chair over to the wall, standing on it and further standing on your tip toes to pull the small curtains away to find a smiling morris on the other side of the glass. he was laying on his stomach so his head was level with the window.

you tried to contain laughter as you unlocked the window. “are you crazy?”

the window was far too small for him to climb in, so he just kept his head close to the opening as you looked up at him on top of the chair.

“i might be, but i’m just glad i finally found the right room. knocked on a few other windows, them ladies did not like me doin’ that.”

you giggled. “what are you even doing here? i told you to come for the show, not to my dressing room window.”

he shrugged before saying, “i wanted to wish you good luck, that’s all.”

you looked at him knowingly. you knew your boyfriend, and he didn’t go through all of this just to tell you about something you didn’t even really need.

“nice try. what’s the real reason you’re here?”

morris looked up, seemingly embarrassed. “where do i sit when the show starts?”

you paused. “i know sittin’ may be difficult for you, morris, but luckily for you there’s this new invention i think you’ll really love to try. it’s called a chair,” you said sarcastically.

he rolled his eyes playfully. “sweetheart, you know that’s not what i mean,” he said, his thick new york accent prominent. “where am i suppose’ to go? front row, back row, balcony? i don’t know how any of this stuff works.”

“as a matter of fact, i actually let miss medda know you were comin’ for the show, so she has a box reserved just for you.”

morris was reluctant to come at first, but now he was simply curious to discover what occupies so much of his girlfriend’s time. he wanted to make sure he could get the best view possible.

he put his head through the window, and you stood on your tip toes to meet him with a kiss. “i’ll see you after the show?”

he nodded. “of course. break a leg,” morris started, going to stand up but turning around to the window again. “but not actually. don’t actually break a leg, please.”

you laughed, holding his hand briefly through the window as he began to leave “i won’t!”

after he left, you finished getting your makeup on and got into your costume. every week, medda throws together a new theme for your performances, and this week she went with a forest theme. you were wearing all forest green costume that made you look like a fairy. your makeup fit the occasion too, and jack kelly’s painted props and artwork set the backdrop for your show.

about ten minutes before showtime, you stood backstage once the first act finished and your props were being moved behind the curtain that separated the stage from the audience.

your performances never lasted long; they were apart of some other, bigger show within the theater. but you drew in lots of crowds as you were becoming a household name. critics raved about your performances, and people came to medda’s theater specifically for you.

normally, you were a pro at keeping your nerves in line. the build up to the shows didn’t make you nervous anymore after weeks of doing it. but tonight, knowing morris was somewhere out there watching your every move made you immensely nervous. you weren’t just performing for a crowd tonight, that you could handle. you were performing for someone. your someone.

“miss Y/N, you’re shaking,” medda said behind you as she put her hands on your shoulders. you turned around; you were too in your mind to notice the shaking.

“sorry medda, just nervous, that’s all.”

you turned around to meet her, seeing a confused and unbelieving expression on her face. “you? nervous? i don’t believe it.”

you shrugged in response. she tilted her head, still questioning you, then you could tell her expression changed in an instant. “oh, i know why you’re nervous.”

you shook your head. “no you don’t.”

she smiled playfully, hitting your shoulder lightly. “oh yes i do. it’s because that delancey boy is out in the audience getting ready to watch you, isn’t it?”

you couldn’t hide the blush on your cheeks now. you didn’t even have to say anything; medda knew.

her tone changed, and she leaned in close. “don’t get distracted, kid. believe me, i’ve had my fair share of men in my life. but don’t let any man get in the way of you doing what you were born to do. you’re a natural at this, you have nothing to be nervous about.”

you took a deep breath. she was right. you knew exactly what you had to do. you nodded, and she backed away.

she smiled. “let’s get this show moving!”

medda walked out on stage in front of the curtain blocking the set, and that was your cue to get in your place on the props.

morris sat out in the audience, waiting anxiously for your presence on the stage. he had the perfect view from where he was at in the audience, and he held his breath waiting for the show to start. he couldn’t care less about the speech medda was planning before you went on, he just wanted to see you up there.

“i know many of you have come from far and wide to watch this next performer do what she does best. i would rave about her, but i’ll just let her dancing do the talking. up next to take my stage is the one and the only, Y/N L/N.”

medda bowed and walked off stage, and morris watched as the curtains fell away and he saw your figure in the darkness laid on a prop that was painted to look like a tree stump.

the lights came on, and the music began. morris watched as you slowly and gracefully worked around the prop, acting as a mythical creature in a forest. his eyes stayed locked on you, not entirely sure what he was watching, but enthralled nonetheless.

you stood on top of the tree stump, going up en pointe and holding your balance in an arabesque, your arms stretched out to your sides.

you glanced into the audience, still holding your balance, searching for morris. you couldn’t find him, but you ignored your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you brought your other leg down to leap off of the prop, sending your legs soaring out.

morris watched in awe in the audience. he liked to think of himself as tough as nails, and he frowned upon himself showing emotion. but, it was becoming harder and harder to uphold that facade as you continued moving around the stage. he knew you must have been talented to have your own show like this, but never in a million years would he have guessed you would be like this.

the turn sequences were your least favorite part of your shows. you were more of a jumper, you loved the feeling of soaring through the air. along with that, you were flexible, and you had tremendous balance for kicks. you were able to hold your leg impossibly high like it was nothing. but turns were a different story.

you began your prep, and as you did, you spotted morris in the audience, right in front of your vision. your heart began to race even more, and you saw as he smiled, knowing that you had just seen him.

in order to prevent yourself from getting dizzy, you used morris as your spot during your turns. you were turning fast, but as you kept your eyes locked on him, you were able to hold your balance en pointe. it felt like you and him were the only ones in that theater.

morris kept his eyes on you as you spun around and around on the very tops of your toes, a small gasp escaping his mouth. he had never seen anyone do something so quick and difficult while simultaneously having so much grace and fluidity.

after nailing the turns and flowing seamlessly out of them into the next section, you forced your eyes to pull away from his.

not only was morris awestruck by your movement, he was drawn into your storytelling. anyone in that room could see you were on an adventure through the forest, and he felt as if you were taking him along for the ride.

after what felt like hours but somehow not enough time, morris watched as you retreated to the back of the stage, hitting one last pose on the faux tree stump before the lights went dim.

the crowd immediately erupted as the curtains drew to a close, but morris stayed in place. he couldn’t quite process exactly what he just saw, but he was upset that it ended so soon. he could have watched you up there for hours.

when the curtains closed, you got off your prop and headed backstage as medda announced the last act of the night. another successful show, you thought to yourself.

as you sat backstage taking sips of water, you felt a presence behind you. before you could turn to see who it was, a voice spoke in your ear. “well if it ain’t the most talented girl i’ve ever seen.”

you stood up from your chair, seeing a smiling morris who had a singular rose in his hand. before you could jump into his arms and give him a bone crushing hug, he got to you first, wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up off the ground.

“you were amazin’ out there, Y/N.”

you pulled away, the biggest grin you've ever had on your face. "you really think so?"

"i know so."

you rolled your eyes. "you're a big softie and you know it."

he smiled sarcastically, setting you back on the ground and lightly pinching your cheek. "any more of that and we're done, silly girl."

you giggled, and only then did you remember the single rose in his hand. morris looked down, almost as if he had forgotten about it too.

"oh, yeah, uh… this is for you. for being so beautiful up there," morris said, immediately getting shy. you bit your lip, holding back a giddy grin.

you stepped closer to him and stood en pointe to give him a kiss on the lips. "it's lovely, morris. where did you get it? you didn’t have that earlier," you asked, taking his hand in your free one.

"i took it from the bouquet that the guy sittin' next to me had."

you blinked at him before sighing. "of course you did."

[nyx-thedragon]

Newsies Novel Notes/Thoughts

hi hello howdy-do. I have finished reading the Newsies Novel PDF that I downloaded and I am here to share my notes/thoughts that I wrote down while reading. Once again, these are in order of when I thought of them

1- so Sarah is 16 and Davey is 15 canonically in the novel

2- Jack is Irish

3- the Jacobs family is Jewish (I think - I mean, why else would Davey mention the Irish boys and Jewish boys always fighting in his neighborhood if his family wasn't Jewish), that's cool!

4- Snyder's name is Nigel?? (throwing up ngl that does not fit him)

5- love that Kloppman is like a grandfather figure to the boys it's so sweet (Kloppman deserves the 'Best Adult in the Newsies Story' Award, right next to Denton)

6- Spot is ginger (scratching my head bc I never imagined him as ginger ever)

7- Davey is said to actually fight and hold his own when the mercenaries from the World show up (I like this better than him not being shown to fight in the movie - Davey can fight if he needs to, let the boy fight!!)

8- call me a hater, but once again the romance between Jack and Sarah is unneeded and feels kinda forced. the, what, second scene we see with them she's already kissing him? idk man it just feels forced and rushed, y'know?

9- okay I've never mentioned this before, but why was Sarah at the newsies rally??

10- Davey jumping on Snyder's back to distract him from grabbing Jack oh novel Davey I love you (why did they take away most of his fighting stuff in the movie??)

11- Les kicking a cop!!

12- Denton getting clubbed to protect Kid Blink (love you Denton)

13- a bunch of police falling through the trapdoor on the stage I wish that was in the movie

14- Jack using the fire curtain to get away from the police. very smart, shoutout to Race and Boots for that

15- Davey feeling guilty for not being arrested with the other newsies but also relieved that he wasn't ooh yeah I understand

16- objecting on the ground of "Brooklyn, yer honor" Spot Conlon the newsie that you are (that line is just so funny and iconic I love it so much I love that it's in the book and the movie)

17- the other newsies hearing Snyder's whole speech about Jack and his life instead of just Davey oooh why wasn't that in the movie what that would've been so interesting to see

18- "It's not fair" I love how Davey is vocal about his opinion instead of just looking at Jack with disappointment like in the movie

19- Les is not taken with to the Refuge to try to break Jack out. very smart, makes sense. so why was he taken with in the movie??

20- Davey watching the conversation between Jack and Pulitzer through the window

21- hate hate hate how Davey is spelled "Davy" in the book. it looks ugly without the "e"

22- "[Davey] felt as though someone he loved had died" in response to finding out Jack sold out to Pulitzer HELLO??? (my homo-alarm is going CRAZY)

23- WHO THE FUCK TORE UP JACK'S PICTURE OF HIS PARENTS!? I KNOW YOU'RE MAD BUT THAT'S TOO FAR, GUYS!! (also I forgot to note this down but I love that Jack has a picture of/with his parents it's so fucking cute. wanna explode whoever it is that tore it up though cuz what the fuck)

24- "You touch Davy and I'll..." oh? getting protective I see... (homo alert! homo alert!)

25- okay so Davey doesn't get beaten up by the Delanceys and instead Jack and the Jacobs siblings beat the two of them up with no issue. hmmm (why wasn't that in the movie? why did they have Sarah be a helpless girl who punched Oscar(?) once and then laid on the ground yelling? why was Davey not shown to fight well enough to not get beaten up by the Delanceys in the movie?? novel Davey and your fighting ability, I will avenge you)

26- Mayer giving Jack some of his old clothes and some food and telling him he'll always have a home with them oh don't make me cry that is so sweet

27- we lost that sweet scene with Mayer and Jack in the movie I can't believe this that would've been such a good scene! could've gotten rid of the rooftop scene with Sarah if there was worry about the runtime being too long, it would've been a much better scene imo (grgrgrggrrgr Mayer Jacobs and Jack Kelly father-son relationship I will avenge you!!) (this is also partially because I am still a hater of the Sarah/Jack relationship/romance because it was so not needed imo)

28- "I wanted to go to Santa Fe, but my real family was right here all along" (YES! GREAT WAY TO END THE STORY! oh my goodness the movie added the Sarah/Jack kiss instead of having this line??? bro I need to have a conversation with the scriptwriters or whoever it was that approved these changes oh my GOD) (i'm assuming the novel came before the movie when I say this)

There was at least one other thing that I didn't end up actually writing down but mentioned when I was annotating the PDF last night but then the annotations disappeared?? for some reason?? when I went to finish reading this morning so I don't know what it was. maybe I'll remember it later? probably not tbh :(

and something that I typed up while watching the movie last night before starting to read the PDF (it is, once again, about the romance subplot. please forgive me for being such a huge and vocal hater about it, it just pisses me off soooo much for some reason):

"dude genuinely the romance subplot was not needed. and the scene with Jack and Sarah on the roof could've been replaced with a scene of like, the newsies talking about the strike and maybe some of them bringing up concerns or something. or even Davey interacting with the newsies and getting to know them. or show how he's dealing with being the co-leader of a whole strike at fifteen years old. something like that.

sorry not sorry but I am very very adamant that not every fucking story needs a romance subplot. especially not this one. I would say if they absolutely had to have a romance subplot, have it be between Jack and Davey, but this movie was made in 1992 and that probably wouldn't have gone over super well, let's be honest."

okay, that's all for now. I might try writing a little newsies fic / one-shot at some point soon-ish? maybe. it will probably be Javey with a bit of background Sprace and Jack / Spot friendship if I ever do get around to it.

uhh have a good day everyone! stay cool :3

[verdemoun]

I'm still thinking. Hosea is a grandfather. A grandpa, if you will. There's Isaac, the boy he barely saw before timewarp, the boy he actually *watched* grow up. And Jack. Oh, Jack. (I am so normal about him.) The bright boy running around camp, turned into this. Just as emotionally fucked up as John and Arthur were at his age. And then there's timewarp kids, and then he figures out Jack had a younger sister. How does he handle THAT???

yes. y es i thought abt jack and hosea. because yes i fuckinf think jack would happily put up with hoseas bs. that is his grandpa and grandpa loves him.

oh fuck you you can't attack me in the feels like that and not expect an immediate reply covid has your brain cOOKING. sorry john + abigail jack is actually my son my baby my blorbo

If dad Hosea is intense, papa Hosea is willing to resort to the lowest honor tactics to protect his grandbabies. Like mama grizzly bear to the extreme: he might look the part of sweet old man but he will murder someone with his bare hands if they even LOOK at his grandbabies wrong.

He actually prefers being called Uncle Hosea because he loathes reminders of how old he is (even though growing old is something he is very, very grateful for). Isaac looked him dead in the eye when Hosea tried to correct him and said 'no I am calling you Pa and that's that'. He also calls Bessie Meemaw. Everyone else calls him Uncle Hosea but Isaac has that Morgan stubbornness.

Also Isaac is finally old enough for the 'yeah your dad was an outlaw and all those strange timewarp people are fellow gang members' and is immediately eyes sparkling. Knows outlaw bad but also how cool is that?? He will excitedly sit at Hosea's feet to hear stories about the old days and of course Hosea loves telling very true and not exaggerated tales of their adventures.

Between having no understanding of modern currency and economics and also the excitement of having a grandchild he gets to see whenever he wants because not running for lives anymore, Hosea is the worst when it comes to spoiling his grandbabies second only to Bessie.

Isaac, going from being raised by a 90% of the time solo parent to having such a massive family in the gang, loves all of them so much. Suddenly having grandparents for school events and those dumb family tree assignments. Isaac also inherited the theatrics genes. He's doing a video interview about Hosea's career and of course Hosea is just telling stories about scams and cons he ran but Isaac's in full old timey interviewer garb newsie cap on microphone and clipboard.

Isaac slamming the door at Arthur's fuck you I'm going to Pa's house when he's grounded. Arthur calling to say he's grounded do not spoil him send him home asap and Hosea merrily agreeing only to cut to Isaac getting cake and coffee while they play dominos. Hosea blindly agrees that Arthur is taking him getting suspended a second time far too seriously.

Old man bawling getting to hold baby Maeve. Sean trying to tell him to stop because he's going to wake her up but Hosea is the softest bastard when it comes to babies.

Emotionally ruined to find out Jack has a younger sister but also she was the first Marston to die and so young. He is always the first to offer to babysit and it was a very common occurrence to find her sitting on his lap drifting off as he reads to her. Practices her reading with her and plays tea parties with actual tea and does voices for different characters obsessed with playing with his smaller grandkids.

BUT HOSEA AND JACK. Hosea has been through the emotionally fucked teen outlaw gig so many times he is an expert. He knows when Jack needs space or to talk or company before Jack does.

As easy as it is to focus on that damage all that trauma and emotions and just darkness Jack carries with him, Hosea still sees their little prince.

The sheer emotion of knowing how much reading came to mean to Jack. The hurt but comfort of knowing that Jack, even if he didn't remember Hosea as clearly as Hosea remembers him, held onto something Hosea helped him with and gave him so tightly. How he read so much Abigail teased him despite how proud she was of the life he was going to have before everything turned to shit.

When Jack is still adjusting and understandably awkward and also mentally not coping, Hosea showed him their expansive private collection of books and saw the way Jack's eyes lit up. They both finally have someone to talk to books about.

Not only Jack lighting up a little like a candle being exposed to oxygen again but actually laughing as Hosea starts stacking books he recommends in his arms. Hosea being excited to talk about books without spoiling them also also just so excited to see that bright little boy is still in there.

Catching Jack curled up on what is usually his reading chair, book still in hand but fast asleep. Remembering the first times Arthur, and John, and Tilly and all those troubled young outlaws they picked up along the way felt comfortable enough to sleep around him, and knowing deep down Jack is going to be okay.

[rosanna-writer]

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (1/5)

Summary: [A Feysand Newsies AU] 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... Warnings: None

A gift for @the-lonelybarricade, for @acotargiftexchange! @lbs-secret-santa is me!

LB, creating this for you has been such a blast, and I am definitely the luckiest secret santa in the world to have such a gem of a giftee. It's rare for someone to have both a talent AND a heart as big as yours—you're truly the High Lady of Feysand, not just because your fics are incredible, but because of the way you make new writers (including me earlier this year) feel immediately welcome and how you handle fandom nonsense with such grace and tact. I'm so glad to call you a friend <3

And sorry for an author's note that reads like an annoying award show speech, but there are SO MANY people I want to thank. The event organizers did such a thoughtful job creating an event that brought so many people together across the fandom; not just secret santa/giftee pairs, but people reaching out to new betas, roping new friends into secrecy shenanigans, and getting hyped about other gifts! @iambutmortal, @thesistersarcheron, @itsthedoodle, @wilde-knight, and @ablogofsapphicpanic have been the best betas/saucy Rhys pun brainstormers/secret keepers/DM screaming session partners, and the daily headlines would not have happened without their beautiful brains. I had SO MUCH FUN watching the excitement and creative energy grow and grow in the lead up to this reveal. And also @reverie-tales, thanks for being my unwitting cover to throw LB off my trail!

Anyway, you can find the first chapter Here on AO3 or under the readmore. Happy Holidays!

One Heir to Share? Rhysand's Rita's Threesome

Baring it All at Starfall! Rhysand Stuns in Daring Deep-V Shirt

Rhysand's Baby Blues: Heir's Latest Fling Spotted Shopping for Baby Clothes

Future High Lord’s High: Witchberries, Fae Wine, and Wild Starfall Benders in the House of Wind?

Lady of the Night or FUTURE Lady of Night? Rhysand's Girlfriend Shocks Royal Family at Nynsar

Un-Rhys-onable: Night's Heir Refuses to Kneel to High Lord

Heir Head! Rhysand Forgets Alphabet During Library Community Service

Rhysand had a reputation.

A big reputation.

Perhaps that was why after selling him the newspaper every day for the better part of a year, Feyre Archeron had long since decided that he was far too full of himself to be ashamed of anything.

As he did every Saturday morning, Rhys appeared on her corner like clockwork, wearing last night's clothes and his trademark smirk. If Feyre wanted to know what lucky male or female had gone home on his arm, she'd only have to check tomorrow's society pages, which were always breathlessly detailing the exploits of the Night Court's handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir.

Not that Feyre cared. There were more important things to worry about than Rhysand's love life, like where her next meal was coming from. She only kept up with it because his scandals sold papers like nothing else.

And she definitely didn't feel a stab of envy every time she read about his latest fling. That would be pointless—a lesser fae shadow-wraith like Feyre would never be Lady of the Night Court. The stir Rhys's Illyrian mother had caused made that obvious enough, even if she was the High Lord's mate.

"Good morning, Feyre darling," Rhysand drawled, the way he always greeted her.

"It's noon, Rhys," Feyre said. The nickname might have been overly familiar, but Feyre had noticed his eyes glittered like stars whenever she used it with him. And besides, after being up since dawn, she wasn't inclined to fall over herself currying favor with someone who'd just rolled out of bed.

"Then let me be the first to tell you that you look delicious this afternoon."

Feyre rolled her eyes, positive she looked the farthest thing from delicious in her threadbare leggings and sweater. If it were anyone but Rhys, she would have been sure they were being cruel. But he had enough of her goodwill that he could pay her teasing compliments and not end up with his teeth bashed in for his trouble.

"Did you give them anything interesting to write about last night?" she said, leaning back against a streetlight and crossing her arms over her chest.

Rhys picked at an invisible piece of lint on his tunic, which almost had Feyre rolling her eyes a second time. Despite being in last night's clothes, he didn't look the least bit disheveled—probably some spell he'd cast to ensure he looked irritatingly perfect as always.

"Mor needed a wingman again," he said.

Feyre relaxed, relieved at his answer. Rhys's equally beautiful cousin was the subject of plenty of headlines of her own, and the two were frequently seen together. The people of Velaris were fascinated by the pretty blonde former Hewn City princess–when the Herald ran a story about her, Feyre just had to shout "Morrigan" to turn heads and make sales. If the lead story was about her, Feyre could probably afford to eat tomorrow.

It had been a while, though, since Rhys had been spotted with someone new on his arm. Or with anyone other than Morrigan, his sister, or the two Illyrians he called his brothers actually. Feyre had rolled her eyes at the rumors of a secret relationship or a hidden love child—if you asked her, the most likely explanation was that there were only so many attractive people in Velaris with a weakness for violet eyes. Rhys was bound to run out of people to fuck eventually.

"Is that the truth?" Feyre said, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Or did you actually find someone to settle down with?"

She'd meant it as a joke, but Rhys didn't smile. There was something hungry, almost predatory, in the way his gaze slid over her. Feyre found herself flushing, even as she stared right back. "Would you care if I did?" he said.

It felt like a challenge; Feyre lifted her chin. "Of course I'd care if you stopped causing scandals. I'm a newsie, and gossip sells papers."

"Of course," Rhys said, something in his expression seeming to shutter. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a gold coin, handing it to her. The value was far more than a single paper was worth, but he'd always insisted she keep the change.

Feyre pulled a paper from the bag slung over her shoulder and handed it to him, longways so there was no chance their fingers would touch. She'd let that happen once, and his fingertips brushing hers had sent a crackle of electricity along her skin that she'd been thinking about ever since. Her mind replayed it almost daily—and frankly, Feyre found that embarrassing.

She pocketed the coin. "Pleasure doing business with you."

When Rhys spoke again, he dropped his voice to a low, sensual purr that sent shivers skittering down Feyre's spine, heat washing over her despite the autumn chill that cut through her tattered clothes. " Everything is a pleasure when it comes to you, Feyre."

He flashed her one last feline smile, and Feyre tipped her cap as he winnowed away, trying not to blush. With her other hand, she fingered the coin in her pocket. It would go under the floorboard with the rest of the ones she'd stashed away. Only a few more until she could afford the one-way ticket to the Continent that she'd been dreaming of.

Velaris was wonderful— if you could afford a big, strong door to lock out the hustle and bustle. Feyre certainly couldn't, and she was dying to get away.

A flash of auburn hair and a shout of "High Lady!" across the street pulled Feyre from her thoughts. Lucien was striding towards her, a half-empty satchel of newspapers slung over one shoulder and carrying another paper bag in his hand. She raised a hand in greeting—she'd stopped cringing at the nickname a long time ago.

"Is the new spot over by the docks working out for you?" she said when he got closer, even though she knew the answer. Lucien could sell papers anywhere; he didn't even need the eyepatch and the sob story about being an Autumn Court orphan who'd found his way to Night—just his brilliant smile was enough.

Lucien shrugged, the gesture far too elegant for someone who'd spent his morning selling newspapers to sailors and fishmongers. "I can make anything work."

"Then why did you come looking for me?" Feyre said. With unsold papers still in his bag, there had to be a reason. The newsies bought the papers from the distributor each morning, starting each day operating at a loss until they'd sold enough papers to recoup the cost. Lucien still had work to do if he wanted to turn a profit.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Isn't gazing upon your beautiful face reason enough?"

"You sound like Rhysand."

"And you're saying that like it's a bad thing. Trouble in paradise?"

Feyre resisted the urge to roll up one of the papers in her own bag and smack him with it. Lucien had overheard her speaking to Rhysand once and apparently decided the prince was in love with her. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

"Rhysand isn't—"

" By the Cauldron, he'd follow you around like a lost puppy if you'd let him."

"He's just a flirt," Feyre said, the edge to her voice making it clear she didn't want to talk about this anymore. "What did you need me for?"

"Someone needs to finish my pickles," Lucien said, pulling a sandwich out of the paper bag. He handed Feyre half, along with the entire side of pickles it had come with, then sat down on the curb to eat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

Feyre nibbled on the pickle, the first thing she'd eaten all day, and thanked the Cauldron for a best friend who hated them and shared them with her. Putting her papers aside, she sat down next to him. "Thanks, Lucien," she said, unwrapping her half of the sandwich. Lunch would be on her next—that had been their unspoken agreement for years, even when meals were sporadic and infrequent.

They lapsed into silence, more intent on eating than talking. It was comfortable, a much needed rest after a morning spent shouting headlines at passersby. Feyre's feet already ached from standing all morning.

After a few minutes, Lucien balled up the now-empty wax paper. "Now that you're fed, I think it's safe to mention that you're needed over by the Rainbow."

"Again?" Feyre said with a sigh.

"Bron and Hart are fighting over the same spot. The High Lady should step in."

Feyre wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but at some point, she'd found herself the unofficial leader of the newsies of Velaris. She'd always kept an eye out for newcomers and lended them a hand—advice on selling papers and navigating the city was all she had, but Feyre shared freely. When there was a problem, she was usually the one to resolve it.

At some point, "High Lady" had gone from an ironic nickname for a poor girl on the streets to a mark of respect for a young woman who took care of her own.

"I'll talk to them," Feyre said, finishing her food and standing up.

Lucien started to thank her, but Feyre had already called on her magic, her body becoming nothing but shadow. Incorporeal like this, she could slip through walls and travel unseen—and crucially, it was faster than walking. As a lesser fae, it was the only magic she had at her disposal.

Even in the brightest sun, Velaris was full of shadows. And for better or worse, Feyre had made them her home.

***

Rhysand had planned to give himself time to read the news before he was due for a meeting at the House of Wind. Yesterday, he'd told himself he'd be up early enough to look over the agenda ahead of time. He'd wanted to be prepared, and his father would have his head if Rhys was late for official court business again.

But somehow, the High Lord's ire seemed incredibly far away last night, when the Cauldron only knew how many drinks he'd had and Mor was dragging him back to the dance floor at Rita's again, and dawn had nearly broken when he'd finally stumbled home.

Late or not, though, he still had to see Feyre.

The most important part of his day had become buying the paper from her. It wasn't about the news and never had been—every day, Rhys hoped that would be the day she finally took an interest in him that went beyond trading a few teasing remarks and rolling her eyes. He'd never flirted so much, so painfully obviously before, just to have it all go ignored like water off a duck's back.

And that had already been going on for a few months before the mating bond snapped.

Their fingers had brushed as she'd handed him the paper. Perhaps that brief touch skin-to-skin had been all it had taken for the urge to claim and taste and scent his mate to hit him with all the force of a brick to the head. Before he'd done something stupid, Rhys had winnowed away without an explanation or a goodbye.

After that, Rhys had resolved not to tell her, at least not until she showed some sort of interest back. But in the months since, he hadn't gotten her to even blush. And even if by some miracle, she did want him that way and accepted the bond, there was no guarantee she wouldn't resent him after a few decades as future Lady of Night. Her indifference was painful enough—Rhys wasn't sure he could withstand her hating him.

For the short flight to the House of Wind, Rhys let the chill in the air clear his head of thoughts of Feyre. He was supposed to focus today. Some of the city's most powerful merchants had asked for a meeting with his father, and as the High Lord's heir, Rhys was expected to be in attendance too.

The meeting room was already full when Rhys walked in, brushing his windswept hair back into place. From the head of the table, his father glared daggers at him.

Rhys ignored it, dropping into the empty seat that had been left for him. "I hope I didn't miss anything interesting."

He kept the smirk plastered on his face, even as his father pushed past his shields to speak mind-to-mind. We'll discuss this later. For now, get through this meeting without embarrassing me further. That's an order.

Rhys made a mental note to let Mor know he'd likely have to cancel their plans to go to the theater that night.

One of the merchants—Rhys had met him before but had forgotten his name—gave him a cold smile and said, "We were just discussing economic policy."

"Carry on, then," Rhys said.

As the meeting droned on, Rhys forced himself to focus, even if the subject matter was painfully dry. One day, he'd be High Lord, and if he wanted to be the sort of ruler the Night Court deserved, one who made things better, he needed to be knowledgeable and willing to listen.

But even then, he wasn't immune to letting his mind wander. At some point, he'd found himself thinking about how the sunlight had brought out the gold in Feyre's hair, when the sound of his name brought him crashing back down to reality.

"…but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Rhysand?" one of the merchants was saying, the sneer in his voice obvious.

Rhys felt his father's eyes boring into him, and it was clear this was some sort of test. He was supposed to be handling something, and Rhys didn't want to think about what sort of punishment might be in store for him if he made it obvious he'd stopped paying attention.

"Would I?" Rhys said, arching a brow in a way that he hoped looked imperious.

"With how many headlines you've been the subject of? I think by now you'd know a thing or two about what sells papers. If it weren't for you, we'd have gone under after the War."

Rhys's hands curled into fists under the table as he recalled exactly who this merchant was—Pulitzer, a newspaper magnate, the one who'd been complaining that circulation was down since the Treaty had been signed. Peace, apparently, was boring.

Peace that Rhys had bled for, had nearly died for when he'd been captured by Amarantha's army. Not that any of that mattered when profits were down.

"Then a bit more gratitude is in order," Rhys said, his voice low and deadly and all command, sounding every inch the future High Lord he was. It was so brief that Rhys nearly missed it, but his father's lips quirked up in approval. "If you have a request, I suggest you word it carefully."

It quickly became clear that Pulitzer and the rest of the owners of Velaris's major newspapers had come to grovel. Even if Rhys couldn't bring himself to care, it was true that the Night Court's newspaper industry was bringing in less money since the end of the war. They'd come to petition his father for assistance.

And to Rhys's relief, the High Lord's answer had been a quick and resounding no.

Of course, Rhys knew his father's answer had been more about safeguarding the Night Court's wealth more than anything else. That much was obvious when so many of their citizens were struggling, even in Velaris. It was something that Rhys vowed to change one day.

But Rhys's relief didn't last much longer. His father had told the newspaper moguls to figure it out themselves, and they'd quickly agreed that to fix their bottom line, they'd raise the price for the newsies who bought the papers to distribute each morning.

Newsies who were barely getting by as it was. Newsies who were already going hungry and sleeping outdoors even as the weather got colder. Newsies who'd been orphaned or disabled after the war and couldn't find decent work.

Newsies like his mate, and Rhysand certainly wouldn't stand for that.

[twomanyfandomshelp]

Disclaimer: Please do not ask me for money/donations. I’m a minor who has no way to pay for them or know if it’s a scam. I’m very sorry for whatever you’re going through, but I can’t help you. Any and all asks requesting money/donations of any kind will promptly be deleted.

Hiya, welcome to my blog! This is gonna be all over the place, I can already tell, so you’ve been warned.

About Me Personally

Name: Lily

Pronouns: She/her, I’m also fine with they/them

Sexuality: Aroace 🧡💛🤍🩵💙 (specifically I’m cupegoromantic [meaning you want to feel said attraction and like the idea of it, but don't actually feel said attraction] {coined by @/aroacesafespaceforall} and sex-indifferent asexual)

Relationship Status: I’m in a queer platonic relationship with my wonderful partner Alix, who uses he/they pronouns, is transmasc, asexual, and panromantic. We made it official on December 5th, 2024, but we were friends for a while before that

Zodiac Sign/Birthday: Libra, October 1st

Country: United States (it’s a shitshow get me out of here please)

Likes: Pink, animals in general but especially dogs, literally anything sweet but especially chocolate, potatoes, cuddles, my partner, autumn, reading, watching movies, swimming, cooking, baking, card games, board games, and spending time with family and friends

Dislikes: Spiders, peanut butter, spice, being cold, sand, stupid people, waking up early, and horror books/movies

Personality: I’m an introvert and a Mediator (INFP-T)

Fandoms

As the name would suggest, I’m part of WAY too many fandoms, but I will do my best to list them all. In no particular order they are:

Percy Jackson 🔱

Harry Potter 🦉

Marauders 🐺 (yes I consider that a different fandom than Harry Potter)

Heartstopper 🏳️‍🌈

The Hunger Games 🏹

Marvel Cinematic Universe💥

Disney 🪄

Wings of Fire 🔥

Life Series SMP 💚 💛 ❤️ (mcyt)

Empires SMP 🌎 (mcyt)

New to Hermitcraft SMP 💎 (mcyt) thanks to smallishbeans

Currently obsessed with Epic: The Musical ⚔️ Please go listen to it if you haven’t already, Jorge Rivera Herrans is a genius!

Pretty much any fantasy or sci-fi book 📖 I’ve been a pretty avid reader my whole life, so there are a lot of standalones, small series, or underrated stories that I really like.

I’m also a theater kid. My favorite musicals are

The Sound of Music 🎶

Newsies 🗞️

Hamilton ✍🏼

Wicked 💚 🩷

The Lightning Thief: The Percy Jackson Musical ⚡️

Six 👑

Mean Girls the Musical 📕

Fandom Related Info

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff 💛 🖤

Godly Parent: Apollo ☀️ Athena 📚 or Poseidon ���

District: District 4 🎣

My Tag Lists

This is my list of mutuals that I tag in whatever tag games I get tagged in or stumble across.

All Mutuals:

@sushis-mylifeee @ivys-garden @thekingofworems @the-stars-are-ineffable @bippityboppityouch @kingofdandelions @aeolianmusic @sushi1056 @nyx-of-darkness-1620 @aaronofithaca05 @livelaughlovechai @ik-kudi-da-khwab @theghostnamedspecter @ponkssponk @rubbercrowy @imobsessedwiththeatre @donutsalami @my-castles-crumbling @azoperoa @theylovewinnie @rosegoldenatlas @aballedofbookworms @halltastic @chaoticrei @moutainrusing @cherrytea556 @harley-the-pancake @imabookloverandafangirl @thatstevenuniversegay @forest-city @chaotic-agender @alphabetical-az @doghowto @swagchaosdinosaur @janru-writer @fallenrain40 @shamelesswolfstarshipper @jarondont @magicalmyths @a-fucking-tornado @poppitron360 @neilarissa @crazyinspirationaldreams @theoneandonlypatches @theconfusedbookshrimp @dreamer0903 @shellywith2ls @yourlocalbadgerscales @g0blinm0d3 @stargazing-with-friends @bookisposts @lezberrycake @nyx-taylors-version @codexnuminois @sevsalio @little-goblin-in-the-forest @whimsicalwordsmith53 @spiderboi-parker @acespecasf @nyyx-xoxx @scarlet beast @samsaragalasinzaraxazeal

General Tag List (this is the one I use for pretty much everything, the exceptions that were common enough I was constantly having to sort through my list and find who was who are below):

@sushis-mylifeee @ivys-garden @thekingofworems @the-stars-are-ineffable @kingofdandelions @sushi1056 @nyx-of-darkness-1620 @aaronofithaca05 @theghostnamedspecter @rubbercrowy @imobsessedwiththeatre @donutsalami @azoperoa @theylovewinnie @rosegoldenatlas @chaoticrei @moutainrusing @cherrytea556 @harley-the-pancake @thatstevenuniversegay @forest-city @chaotic-agender @alphabetical-az @janru-writer @fallenrain40 @shamelesswolfstarshipper @jarondont @magicalmyths @a-fucking-tornado @poppitron360 @neilarissa @theoneandonlypatches @theconfusedbookshrimp @shellywith2ls @yourlocalbadgerscales @g0blinm0d3 @stargazing-with-friends @nyx-taylors-version @lezberrycake @codexnuminous @little-goblin-in-the-forest @whimsicalwordsmith53 @spiderboi-parker @nyyx-xoxx @scarletbeast

Queer

@thekingofworems @kingofdandelions @sushi1056 @theghostnamedspecter @rubbercrowy @donutsalami @azoperoa @theoneandonlypatches @rosegoldenatlas @the-decapod @chaoticrei @cherrytea556 @harley-the-pancake @thatstevenuniversegay @forest-city @chaotic-agender @fallenrain40 @shamelesswolfstarshipper @magicalmyths @a-fucking-tornado @theconfusedbookshrimp @yourlocalbadgerscales @g0blinm0d3 @nyx-taylors-version @lezberrycake @codexnuminous @little-goblin-in-the-forest @nyyx-xoxx @scarletbeast

Epic the Musical

@thekingofworems @nyx-of-darkness-1620 @aaronofithaca05 @theghostnamedspecter @imobsessedwiththeatre @rosegoldenatlas @decapodsrandomfandom @alphabetical-az @jarondont @magicalmyths @a-fucking-tornado @shellywith2ls @g0blinm0d3 @stargazing-with-friends @codexnuminous @nyyx-xoxx

If you see your name in the moot list but not the tag list and want to be on the tag list, don’t want to be on my tag list, you’re not on a list you should be on, you’re on a list you shouldn’t be on, or have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to message me, send an ask, reblog this post, comment, or use any way of communication on tumblr to let me know!

[chrisgotitall]

HI LOVE

Your work is so sweet, I’m clinging to those oneshots for dear life🤞🤞🤞

I’m OBSESSED with the concept of makeup artists reader. She’s young and smart, has a degree but formal work feels dreadful, so she does make up instead. She meets him while working on west side story, and everyone behind the scenes is always dancing and joyful, and she’s Latina too so she just can’t help but join!! (Yes I am projecting 😒😒) like Rachel and Ariana are dancing to songs in Spanish and reader shows them some songs in Portuguese cus she is Brazilian. She teaches them how to dance to it and Mike it’s just watching from afar pretending he isn’t staring, while all the guys he knew before from the newsies cast are teasing him and maybe even flirting with her to spite him into finally making a move 👀👀 Idk it’s just a concept that lives rents free in my head and I thought you would enjoy

Take care💋💋💋

Your mornings start so well since you chose to work as a makeup artist on movie sets. You wake up, really early of course, but knowing you're going to the most beautiful job there is. You enjoy it so much. You like makeup first of all, then you like talking to people, you like getting to know them while preparing them for their scenes. It's amazing.

The movie you're working for right now is a movie musical, it's called West Side Story and it is by far your favorite working experience. Especially for the people. Most of the cast members are fellow Southern Americans so the atmosphere on set is like home.

They're always dancing and singing even before getting on set, they start from the makeup trailer.

They put music on: bachata, cumbia, salsa and they start a dancing party while getting ready for their scenes. It's truly awesome.

And they get in everybody, even the Jets, every crew member and makeup girls like you. And you dance with them, oh yes, you dance a lot with them. Ariana and Rachel just get you in cause they know you got it in you. The latino blood just floods in moments like these and it's beautiful to see, it's so joyful.

One time, tho, you decided to show them some songs from your native place specifically, just to throw in some portuguese jams. They enjoyed it so much and the party way even fuller.

It started cause the Sharks were the first that had to get ready, so they put some music up and then you put your music up.

But then it was the Jets' turn. While they were sitting in their seats you noticed that one of the Jets made Mike sit in the chair that's actually your place. You were dancing but then realized it's time to get back to work so you reach your place.

"Good morning" he says, smiling.

"Good morning" you tell him, smiling as well, "Ok, let's see what you need today" you say reaching for the paper that tells you what kind of makeup he'll need for his scenes.

"Oh this is gonna be fun, you can actually help me today" you say putting out a little package with black tint in it.

"Glad to" he says.

"You can take a bit of this and just smear it all over your hands" you say pointing at the package, "But before you do that you're gonna have to take the shirt off"

He looks up at you, "The tank top too?"

"No, just the shirt is fine" you say feeling your cheeks flaring up. He takes his shirt off and you start dirtying his face with the black paint since he's gonna shoot the scene where the first fight between Sharks and Jets happens.

You touch up his concealer, just now realizing how close to his face you are but luckily you made him look up.

"Okay, I'm done" you say.

"Thank you" he says, smiling again.

The way he looks at you makes you literally weak in the knees so you have to focus on tidying up the makeup desk to not look at him.

In the afternoon, another "party" started again and obviously you got in. This time you weirdly felt a heavy gaze on you, you looked around and saw Mike staring at you. You looked away and smiled to yourself, continuing to dance.

He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and he didn't seem to want to take his eyes off of you.

"Can I dance with you?" Kyle says. You accept and you dance with him. Of course he's a really good dancer even if this kind of rhythm isn't really his style.

You notice he has his head turned towards Mike and you shake your head to yourself.

"What's going on?" you ask him.

He smiles, "Just getting my boy Mike to make a move" he admits.

"Oh my god..." you laugh.

He makes you twirl and you laugh even harder.

"It's my job as a friend" he pulls you closer.

"I'm sorry, can I take a turn at a dance?"

It's Mike, standing between you two with his hand reaching out to you. Kyle smiles and holds his hands up.

"Sure... all yours"

Mike takes Kyle's place and makes you dance.

You smile at him and show him how samba is supposed to be danced. He learns really fast and you dance it together.

"You're wonderful" he says out of thought.

You look at him, very startled.

"When you dance... you're wonderful when you dance" he corrects himself.

"Oh... right"

"You're pretty wonderful too" you say, not really referring to his dancing.

He sighs, "I like you... I really like you, not just your dancing"

You smile at him, "I like you too, Mike"

[piedoesnotequalpi]

My unsolicited thoughts on the production of Newsies that I just saw

I overall enjoyed the show, but it was a mixed bag in some regards so. yeah!

Act 1

Crutchie and Jack were not nearly close enough (physically or emotionally) in the opening scene. Also, Crutchie's crutch was on the wrong side even though the actor playing him apparently has mobility issues?

Some newsies were dropped/sent off by their parents during Carrying the Banner! Amazing! Very neat to see this explicitly acknowledged! 100/10!

Jack was shorter than Katherine <3

Race was implied to be younger than Albert based on their pants styles???

Also, Albert paid for his papes, which was disappointing

This production's Les played the "I'm ten...almost" line very differently from Livesies Les (more a reluctant acknowledgement than aggressive), which I liked (I really liked this production's Les)

The way Pulitzer said "I don't look pretty" absolutely killed me. Also, he was incredibly fidgety during the office scene and Nunzio was visibly irritated by this. The Pulitzer and co scenes were generally really well blocked and acted.

Jack walked into the scene where Snyder shows up with a flower girl that he's implied to be flirting with, which I thought was an interesting addition. She spent most of the scene waiting and looking like she really wanted Jack to pay more attention to her (he was focused on Davey and Les) but did at least stick around long enough to distract Snyder.

"But I can see her - [embarrassed pause] - her legs."

The guy Medda addressed in That's Rich ("hey, baby, I was just talking about you") collapsed in his chair after the acknowledgement even though it's not a particularly positive interaction

During the pre-WWK scene, the ensemble was weirdly quiet the whole time.

Albert had to be held back after the "aw, just let 'em try!" bit

Now that I've seen the UKsies staging/delivery of "I say we save any interviews for a real reporter" I cannot go back to watching Davey deliver the line as directly as he did in this production.

Les tried to volunteer to visit Brooklyn but Davey pulled his hand down, which was hilarious

During the WWK reprise, they did a sort of chair assembly line to get the chairs offstage, which I thought was a good way to incorporate the set change into the choreography.

I wish Jack would've given Katherine more personal space in the post-Jacobi's scene, but it was at least better than Livesies

Also, this Jack overall did not have good pacing in his line delivery

Katherine absolutely crushed WWH and I loved the way she did the "it's a girl" section

I wish Crutchie had been better incorporated into the dances. Maybe it was something to do with the actor's disability, but there has to be a better solution than Crutchie sitting to the side/being offstage half the time during WWK and Seize the Day

After the line about skull-busting Albert stood up to fight the Delanceys and Mush had to pull him back down.

Davey didn't address people individually during the Seize the Day intro :(

Another UKsies related thought is that their choice to have the scabs explicitly be from the main group was a good one and I wish this production had done it too

Jack was really in the thick of it during the fight

As Jack was climbing to the rooftop before Santa Fe, he was audibly sobbing and he kept crying during Santa Fe, which almost made me cry.

A general thought is that the existence of Livesies seems to make directors afraid to do their own thing with the show.

Act 2

Jacobi was running the deli with his...wife? and she was helping patch up some of the newsies pre-KoNY

In this scene, but also in general, Race did not commit to the bit nearly hard enough - "wouldya lookit, that's me! I'm famous!" didn't really feel like a distraction tactic

The ensemble was divided into tap dancers and spoon players (they even had a "spoon captain" listed in the program) and the spoon players at one point played their spoons on the tap dancers' shoes

The Katherine interlude in KoNY was very oddly done and I am not sure what they were trying to accomplish (and she didn't even have tap shoes, which, what?)

The person I knew who was in the show had a dance highlight in the pre-Letter from the Refuge dance break! Yay!

Les was SO funny during the WWHR lead-up and as soon as the date exchange started Jack backed away slowly since he was standing between Davey and Les before.

The Bottom Line (reprise) lead-up was REALLY well-staged

When Katherine was revealed to be Pulitzer's daughter, Katherine was visibly upset at being used as a pawn and Hannah ended up trying to comfort her, with mixed success.

When Pulitzer mentioned Davey, Jack had already been knocked to the floor but he tried to get up and lunge at Pulitzer.

Katherine ran offstage when Pulitzer said "too bad you've no family, but you can't have mine"

The person with the Bronx sign kept the sign turned around until his line

Les was fully not at the rally, which, what?

Jack also didn't get into any physical altercations at the rally, which, again, what? Weird choices were made there!

Much like the pre-WWK scene, the ensemble was weirdly quiet.

This is probably an unoriginal thought about STBI, but I think a potential way to make the "or is it because I'm a girl?" line less weird is to have Katherine deliver it in a more resigned/frustrated than accusatory tone ("I'm dealing with this again? Really?") - her concern of being dismissed is not invalid, but I think it's less to do with Jack specifically and more to do with the world she lives in.

The way Jack said "if you weren't an heiress" killed me

There were fog machines during OAFA and the scene leading up to it, and that plus the lighting during the scene looked SO COOL

Davey and Jack had their arms around each other during the beginning of OAFA and Katherine just kinda stood next to them (close by, but still) which was. a choice.

During the lines "ready to fight us a war" and "talk about seizing the day" there were choreography callbacks to "either they gives us our rights or we gives them a war" and a section of the Seize the Day choreography.

Katherine kissed Jack on the cheek before she left, which was very cute

Davey and Jack stood face-to-face very close together with their hands on each other's shoulders at the end of OAFA and it was, again, certainly a (very gay) choice

Pulitzer terrified Bunsen out of the room during the phone call bit, which led into Bunsen presumably encountering Jack and co. and then escorting them in

Jack turned to Katherine instead of Davey after the Roosevelt handshake, which I disliked not for Javid reasons but just because Davey has context for the interaction and Katherine doesn't.

During the line "New York's got us, and we're family" Pulitzer stuck his head over Katherine's shoulder. Katherine was not particularly happy with this development, but I thought it was funny.

Katherine and Les hugged in the final scene!!!

Snyder being sent to jail in Broadway!Newsies always makes me miss 92sies!Crutchy's "make friends with the rats" line

Jack and Crutchie didn't hug until the very end (right after Jack and Davey hugged), which I thought was a weird choice to make. No one hugged Crutchie when he first entered either, which was sad and honestly made Crutchie feel less like part of the group :( (which is a staging choice I disagree with)

There was no curtain call, just slower-paced bows that extended from the curtain call music through the bow music. Also, someone juggled during the bows?? I need to figure out if I've met that person given how small the juggling community is in my neck of the woods.

...This kind of just turned into a stream of consciousness infodump. Bone apple teeth!

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 44: Season's Greetings

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

December 24, 1925

Liverpool Docks

“Ready, Ada?”

Ada wraps her fox fur coat around her shoulders to combat the cold wind. “Are you? It’s been a whole year since you’ve seen Tommy.”

We climb inside the Bently waiting for us. There’s so many nerves bottled up inside I feel like I’m about to burst. My broers’ last words still have me wondering if I’m making the right choice.

“I pray these months haven’t changed him too much.” 

“I’m staying with Polly. Would you like to drive with me to John’s to drop off some presents? I’m checking in on Arthur too.”

I stare through the window at the wandering people. “Actually I’m going straight to the office to settle some questions I have. You can go on ahead. I’ll visit John later.”

Throughout the whole drive to Birmingham Ada and I go back and forth discussing last-minute details from the Boston docks. However, my mind cannot stop drifting to think about seeing Thomas again. Last time I was so close. So close to telling him everything. I know expecting him to wait is completely ridiculous. Maybe that’s why the excitement of coming back is stained by the fear that my absence will have caused him to be forgetful of me.

The car stops outside a new building I’ve never seen before. 

“This must be the new office,” Ada says. “Are you still going to the Christmas party?”

“Yes. I’ll tell John I’ll be there.” 

I grab my trunk and step out into the muddy streets. December in England is so much more wet than in Brooklyn. Where’s the snow? I walk into the first room and spot Lizzie behind a desk. When she sees me her eyes flash the familiar look of hatred.

“Season’s greetings, Lizzie. What should I expect?”

She gives a small huff and returns to checking the records. “He’s isolated himself from the family. ‘S just been him and Charlie.” I walk past her to a staircase and she speaks up again. “Oh, by the way, the only love he’s received is from whores. Thought you should know.”

Sure. She can think I’ll believe that. As much as my heart might fall for Thomas there is still a part of me that dreads to know that he still takes physical pleasures from other women. My only guess is that I have to become as corrupt and defiled as the rest for him to consider me. May might be right. I’m too pure for this.

Michael walks through a door and sees me climbing up. “Oh! Tommy didn’t say you were coming.”

My face brightens. “Michael! I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you all were pardoned-”

He holds a hand up to stop me and offers to help me with my trunk. “It’s alright, Verena. You’ve helped keep the business flowing smoothly. All’s well in Boston, I hope?”

“Business is booming. How’s Polly?”

Michael’s smile drops. “Not as good. She’s addicted to tablets from the prison. Going off her rocker, to tell you the truth.”

Oh God. That poor woman… Why didn’t Thomas tell me things had gotten this worse? 

“You thought she was religious before,” Micheal says. “Now she claims she sees spirits.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “Did all of you… change?”

He bites his lip, contemplating if he wants to go any further. “Yes.”

“How bad?”

“You can see for yourself at John’s party.”

Right. The party. “Will the children be there?”

Michael checks his watch and starts walking. “Yes. Arthur’s been excited for you to meet little Billy.”

“My instructions from Thomas have stopped,” I call after him. “Any reason why?”

Michael turns to face me with his mouth pressed in a thin line. “He’s detaching himself from work.” That doesn’t sound like Thomas. “I’ll have more instructions for you after the holidays.”

No. I’m not waiting any longer. I’m going straight to the source. “Is he here?”

Michael points down the hall. “Right through that magical door. He just got done with a meeting.”

I start walking to it. “Please tell Polly I’ll visit as soon as I can. Wish her a ‘Merry Christmas’ for me.”

I push the door open and walk into a dimly lit room. Inside is a long wooden business table. A portrait of the company’s stemma hangs on the wall. At the end of the room Thomas sits at the table, smoking as usual. The thing that sets him apart from last time are the round spectacles on his grimly-carved face. Through the thick smoke I can’t tell if he's just as happy to see me.

“Ah, there are those braids. Did you come over with Ada?”

I don’t know how to respond to this greeting. Commenting my hair braids? Not even a simple hello? 

“Yes,” I answer slowly. “Merry Christmas to you, too. Ada's gone to visit your brothers, then she’s coming to see you.”

He doesn’t seem interested. Instead Thomas gets up and walks closer to look at me. “You’ve changed. Your letters stress more on business instead of pleasure. But you’re still full of spirit.”

So he does read my letters. He just doesn’t bother to respond. Full of spirit, am I? Maybe it’s because I was so desperate to hear from him. Such a contrast to his unaffectionate personality.

“Vader recovered quite well. When he was able to walk I spent the summer helping my brother Eoin and his wife with their four kids so they could take a vacation. You’d change too if you had to learn to wrangle those little schavuits.” 

I walk closer too, dawning a deciphering face that tells him I cannot be so heartless. “In fact… You look different as well. Those glasses…” Is it just me or does Thomas look more tense than before? “I like it. Makes you look… sophisticated. Just like the man everyone in Boston thinks you are.”

Thomas catches on to my cold tone and tries to ignore it. “I see you’re wearing the gift I sent you.”

“Yes I am, thank you very much,” I say gratefully and finger the pendant around my neck. “I love it. I’m surprised you remembered.”

A quaint smile crosses his face. “‘S not every day a girl turns 23.”

True. But what’s happening right now is not about me. I need to redirect him back to the subject at hand.

“You wrote that you wanted me back. Thomas, I’m serious, I am here to help reconnect your family. What plans do you and Charlie have for Christmas?”

Why is he looking at me like that? It’s like he wants to avoid me, glare at me, or hug me. I thought I was conflicted about this visit but I think he beats me. 

“We’re spending Christmas at Arrow House,” Thomas says. “I got him his own horse. A thoroughbred.”

My eyes close and I have to keep from frowning. “Thomas. That’s very sweet, but a horse cannot replace family.”

He takes a puff on his cigarette. “Polly’s seeing spirits. Michael needs cocaine to stay awake. Linda and Esme want to carve my eyes out. Gathering for Christmas is not going to fix this, Verena. Also, Ada tells me you’ve been advertising whiskey on the side.”

I shrug. “Your clients like to drink, my vader makes whiskey. It’s been profitable. Is that so wrong?” He’d be a hypocrite if he disagrees.

Thomas shakes his head and walks over to pour a glass of his own whiskey. “I heard Lizzie mention my recent routines with ladies of the night. Thought you’d have something to say to that, eh? Religious reminders or what not.”

That is it! I’ve had enough!

I clench my fists and make for the door before I punch him in his smug face. “I came here to help your family! Whoever you fuck is not my concern, Thomas. I know I can’t change your mind about it. All you Shelbys ever do is screw around.”

Behind me I hear him hum in surprise. “Still so innocent.”

I spin around and face him with a glare moeder would be proud of. “‘Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under ‘t.’ Beware women, Thomas. Their sweet smiles can turn into venomous bites when their motive is strong.” I am not so different.

Thomas raises a brow. “So I shouldn’t trust you either, eh?

I grunt frustratedly and grip my head. “I’m telling you this so you can trust me. Everywhere you send me I’ve seen strong-willed men come undone at a woman’s smile.” My eyes narrow with determination. “I am stronger than that. When a handsome man tries to sway my opinion I know exactly how to correct him.”

Thomas can’t ignore the mention of another man. “And how is that, might I ask?”

I smirk. “A loaded pistol used for a little persuasion never hurts. At least at first.”

Thomas mirrors my grin and raises his glass. “Remind me never to make you mad.”

“You have before. Was I that pleasant?”

His eyes darken. “No.”

I put my hands on my hips. “That’s what I thought.”

Thomas glances at my trunk. “Are you staying in town?”

I grimace at the thought of Ada having to stay with Polly. “I’m stopping by John’s to say hello before the party. I’m planning on going back to Watery Lane so I don’t intrude. People are going to hate me too, Thomas.”

I feel him grab my small hand with his callused one. “Stay at Arrow House for Christmas. There’s more than enough room. Charlie will be happy to see you.”

We’re not getting anywhere. “That’s why I’m here, Thomas. For you and your family. Are you still not going to John’s party?”

Thomas’ blue eyes dart all over my face. “They don’t want anything to do with me. I find myself blessed enough to have you back. I’m not bringing them back into this if they don’t want to.”

And I can’t force him into this because he’s too scared to face them. I’ve got my work cut out. Maybe there can be a Christmas miracle.

“Okay, Thomas. I can stay at Arrow House. But you need to promise me that you will at least make an effort to wish them a ‘Merry Christmas.’”

My acceptance of his offer brings a slight smile to Thomas’ face. “Before you go to John’s there’s something I’d like to show you.”

Of all places to find surprises I would not expect a normal-looking warehouse with no one guarding it. I’m led inside and take in the view of a giant room stocked to the brim with bottles of gin. His own distillery! This kind of progress is just what Thomas needs! A hobby that’s not trying to kill him.

“Goodness! When did this happen?”

Thomas brings out a case of bottles. “Your father’s drink inspired me. Now I use dad’s old recipe to make my own. We’ll still buy your brand, of course.”

I’m still gawking in wonder at the place. “Thomas, this is amazing!”

“Try some?” He holds out a sample glass. “Be honest.”

I take a sip and take in the new flavor. Nothing like vader’s but I give him credit. My taste is very specific. “It’s good. Quite impressive. Do you export?”

Thomas nods proudly. “Yeah. Some I send off to Boston. Your lot drink it up like water.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want to steal your dad’s business.” Is Thomas Shelby being modest? “Soon enough we’ll produce 200 gallons a week.”

Time to test the waters. “Maybe I can bring some to John? I’m sure he’d like to try some.”

Thomas’ smile fades. “Knowing Esme she’ll spit it on you. You’re really going to play peacemaker, Verena?”

I step closer and feel the same energy from before I left. When I felt like I was where I belonged in the world. He needs to know he’s not traveling this beaten path alone.

“You say I am innocent. Perhaps God is calling me here to spread my positive spirit during this festive season. Your family has seen numerous tragedies, Thomas. You can’t be broken apart. You need to be mended together. That’s why I am here.”

That, and because I love you. Do I go further?

Thomas keeps looking at me as if I’m a mirage. “I can never understand how you still believe we are so righteous and can be saved. That I can be saved. Do you ever want something for yourself?”

Yes. So selfishly yes. But it’s someone I want so selfishly. There are many ways I can answer that.

I spot a clock on the wall. Patience, Steenstra. This cannot be summed up in a few minutes.

“How about we continue this when I get back from John’s tonight? We can catch up properly without any interruptions.”

Thomas wants to keep me here but he knows better than to argue. “We’ll be waiting.”

@meadows5

[ill-say-anything-i-hafta]

I went to see a local middle school production of Newsies Jr. and it was super cute and here are my...

SHOW NOTES

The production started with the choir singing "Home on the Range" a capella. 💯

It was very fun and moving to see child characters played by real kids. Jack was a little scrappy guy (David, Crutchie and Katherine were all taller). Racetrack had very pink cheeks. Albert was wearing an enormously oversized vest and shirt with rolled up pants. Pigtails was the dirtiest newsie. Buttons had the most emphatic New York accent.

David and Les showed up to sell in matching argyle sweater vests.

Pulitzer who was the only character not played by a middle schooler for some reason (he looked like a weird high schooler least or maybe he was in his 20s). He was a head taller than Hanna, Seitz and Bunsen, who were a comedy trio behind him, constantly cowering but then egging each other on.

Crutchie was so excited to teach Les to sell and looked on with pride as Les scammed that lady.

The kid playing Snyder was doing some kind of strangled, raspy villain voice that was hilarious and scary by turns.

At Medda's, David introduced himself as "Davey" and then looked so annoyed at himself.

Morris kept trying to give various newsies papes, even after they said they were striking.

Racetrack went around kicking the bundles of papes off the stage. He was absolutely that kid who always slides on his belly to the front of the pic, cheesing.

Katherine was a big girl with glasses and know-it-all energy and she had objectively the best voice. She killed Watch What Happens!

In the fight, Crutchie got knocked to the ground while three uniformed cops plus Snyder crowded around, kicking him. People in the audience were audibly upset. ACAB!

Jack picked up Crutchie's abandoned crutch with the strike banner still attached and he had it on the fire escape during Santa Fe. He sang the line "dumb crip's just too damn slow." This was the only time anyone said the c-slur in the whole play. He was so sad and he got angrier and angrier as he sang but that last note was beautiful.

They played "Money Money Money" by ABBA during the intermission, and I ran into Seitz in the ladies restroom. She was about 4'11" tall and asked me if I was enjoying the show. Of course!

Crutchie tried to get to his feet during his song, but he couldn't do it.

Bunsen made a big deal about concealing Katherine with his body and then dramatically revealing her.

In his office, Pulitzer said to Jack, "I'll see to it your pockets are filled with enough cash to take you to ... where was it again?" And then both Delancey brothers, who had gnarly bruises in their faces from the fight, sang out "Santa Feeeee!"

The Brooklyn newsies all had red bandanas.

After they made up after the rally, David initiated a spit shake with Jack, but Jack really horked up a loogie and David super regretted it.

David got right in Pulitzer's face to tell him circulation was down and Pultizer got mad and shoved him backward and David just grinned.

Crutchie and Jack hugged and then hugged again.

Pulitzer got booed during the bows!

The crew was mostly very queer high school students.

Some of this stuff might be in the Newsies Jr. script and not unique to this production, but it was all delightful.

[chaosfairy18]

Swifty and Bumlets sell together, which means passer bys are always in for the charm of the pair of them. Their kind smiles and charming personalities coming forth to woo whoever into buying a pape. Ocassionally they pick wild flowers to hand out with the papers, their charm not immune to even husbands running late from work, "and a flower for the other half?" Swifty asks and who would be a fool to not fall for their perfectly worked out salespitch, even coming back to the lodging house with a few flowers left over :)

Took a bit to answer because I really wanted to write something with it because it's just so cute! I'd look forward to ideas like this in my askbox more often, I just love my boys. Not quite happy with the end, but it's still nice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Skittery, Bumlets and Swifty were inseparable on most occasions, selling wasn’t one of them. As Tumbler was both difficult to keep track of and very attached to Skittery, it was easiest to have their littlest little sell with Skittery which also immensely increased the often grouchy boy’s sales as he had the cutest kid with the biggest pleading eyes with him.

Since 4 newsies selling close to one place really wasn’t profitable, they split up in groups of two most of the time, Bumlets and Swifty as well as Tumbler and Skittery – sometimes Flipper begged Bumlets to sell with him, but that wasn’t too often. The thing about Bumlets and Swifty selling together was that they could both talk their way out of most trouble and knew how to use those charms well for selling too.

And as much as Bumlets usually didn’t need to talk himself out of trouble, he had more than enough use for his charms with bailing Swifty out too, if need be.

But that day there hadn’t been any trouble – Bumlets just turned a blind eye as Swifty lifted a passerby of his pocket watch because no matter how often he told him it was dangerous, he wouldn’t stop anyways – instead of trouble they actually found themselves selling even better than usual. They sold close to a park and, thinking back to his parents and how his mother had loved it if his father had come home with a flower he’d picked up on the way home from work, Bumlets thought they might even make a good selling day into a great one.

He and Swifty gathered some of the wildflowers growing in the grass, enjoying the rare minutes in nature in a city as big and bustling as New York before going back to work.

“Miss, care for a pape and a flower?”, Bumlets asked a well-dressed young lady walking by, upselling his sales pitch with: “I’d even give you two flowers, one couldn’t possibly match your beauty, Miss.”

She giggled, flattered, and took the pape and flowers for two pennies, holding both close to her heart and smiling even wider as Bumlets slightly bowed to her with a grin before going back to selling. Skittery would probably say something about overselling it, but she was a pretty lady, and no one had to know he’d never do more than exchange some flowery words for he already had someone.

“A pape fer yourself and a flower for the other half?”, he heard Swifty call out to a man passing by him who quickly stopped, looking surprised for a moment before switching to relief.

“Exactly what I need right now, kid. Might make her less mad I couldn’t get outta work sooner.”

He took the newspaper and flowers and Swifty called after him: “Good luck on that, mister!” It made Bumlets smile, even if he saw Swifty grab a note poking out of some bank worker’s pocket with the hand he wasn’t waving after the man who’d just bought the pape from him.

They sold all of their papes and most of the flowers by evening and after stopping by where Swifty usually peddled his ‘extra earnings’ and made them into money, they walked back to the lodge, Bumlets carefully holding the few flowers they had left. They still looked nice, and he was sure Kloppman would appreciate them.

He gave the superintendent all of them except two, hiding them away quickly, and Kloppman shook his head trying to find a small vase in his cupboards. Leaving him to it, Bumlets pulled Swifty over to where Skittery sat at the windowsill, keeping watch over Tumbler playing swords with Les.

Before he could react, Bumlets pushed one of the flowers in his hand, the other going to Swifty. “Hope your day was good.”

“Just got better.”, Skittery murmured, looking at the small red flower, turning it in his hand. “Thanks, Bum.”