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baura-bear · 27 days

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i gotta have the most swagalicious panic attack ever

i mean, come on you can't just drop that

a few notes beforehand: jack is 10000000% based off of angsty teenage me and Race is like also 1000000% based off of my roommate (genuinely this is 1% racetrack higgins 99% my roommate so i want to hear 0% complaining about being out of character. this is my special little boy that i've crafted and i love him). also this snippet i chose doesn't even have the swagalicious panic attack but it's long (I couldn't choose which parts to share) so that will make up for it :)

disclaimer they smoking weed

Jack had only been with Medda Larkin for a week and was already proving to be a handful. Medda’s adopted son had even interrogated him, wondering why he always had to be “such a little asshole”. The words had no malice and Jack actually didn’t mind the kid’s company. He had insisted that Medda was sweet and really did want to help. Jack scoffed at that, making an off-hand comment about his nickname Racetrack. He did find the nickname a little strange, but Jack had no room to judge.

Tonight had been particularly rough. Dinner was fine. It should’ve been fine. But the sound of forks on the plates was making Jack want to rip his hair out. Race was chewing too loud, not bothering to finish his bite before he spoke. And ultimately Jack couldn’t understand how no one could care about where Crutchie was.

When Medda had asked Jack how his day had gone he glared at her, carelessly dropping his fork so that it clattered against his plate. “Pretty fucking shit,” he spat before storming away from the table. He knew it was dramatic, but it was also the truth. Medda had encouraged him not to shy away from what he was feeling, so he didn’t.

He stomped up the stairs, taking them two at a time and slammed the door to his bedroom.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Race asked, still staring at the stairs where Jack had been.

Medda reached across the table, patting Race’s hand. “Let’s give him some space, he’ll come around,” she said gently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~lalala cut all the in between stuff~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Gah, Fuck!” He exclaimed, suddenly stopping in the middle of the room. He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times then shook out his hands. He was buzzing with energy that he needed to get rid of.

Jack rushed over to his closet, taking out his ratty converse and a hoodie, pulling them both on. Some fresh air would do him good.

He quietly opened his door, hoping not to draw attention from anyone in the house. He hurried down the stairs (which thankfully weren’t creaky). But it all was futile because he had to walk right past Race to get to the front door.

Race didn’t seem to pay him any mind. He had a headset on and was talking to someone who, presumably, was on the other end of the TV screen, playing Minecraft with him.

Jack opened the wooden front door and paused as he looked out the screen door. Apparently while he had been talking to Medda a torrential downpour had begun outside. He stood dumbly, staring at a rippling puddle. Jack didn’t have an umbrella and he wasn’t about to ask for one.

Meanwhile Race had pulled his headset off one ear and said “Gimme a sec’ Al.” He pressed a button, muting his end of the mic. “Going somewhere?” he asked, genuinely sounding curious.

“It’s raining,” Jack said lamely, still staring at the puddle.

“Y-up,” Race said, popping the p. He stared at the back of Jack’s head, waiting for an actual response. When he didn’t get one he said, “So… You’re not going anywhere?”

Jack sighed. “I guess not,” he muttered, finally closing the door. He stood dumbly staring at Race, wondering what he should do. It felt weird to stomp back to his room.

Race smiled at him, patting the couch, welcoming Jack to sit. Jack hesitated but walked over, squishing himself into the corner of the couch, as far away from Race as possible.

“Isn’t this game for babies?” Jack asked rudely, staring at the TV which currently showed that Race was in a dirt hut with nothing more than a crafting table and bed.

Race shrugged, “I’m just a big baby in a big boy body.”

Jack scrunched his eyebrows together, trying to understand Race. He was an enigma. Jack pulled his legs up onto the couch, hugging his knees as he watched Race run around killing mobs without any armor on.

“No shoes on the couch,” Race said, followed by a scream as he turned around and was face-to-face with a creeper.

Jack glared at him. For one, he didn’t give a shit about the couch, he also had just started to relax and was not about to move. “Whatever,” he muttered.

“Mama and I are just trying to help you, you know?” Race successfully evaded the creeper, but left a hole in the ground. Another player ran over (actually wearing armor) and patched it. Race unmuted briefly to say, “I was going to! I don’t have any dirt on me!” There was a stack in his hot bar.

Jack didn’t say anything, he was more of a quiet high and he didn’t particularly want to engage with Race.

“I’m serious. I know you don’t trust us, and I get it Jack, I do, but if you won’t trust Mama’s word, at least trust mine.” Race ran back into his dirt hut so he could look at Jack. When it was clear he wasn’t going to get a response he sighed. “Do you wanna go smoke?

“I just…” Jack paused, actually considering. He had just smoked but he wasn’t that high, he could definitely smoke more. Plus, free weed was free weed. Jack shrugged, then nodded.

Race unmuted his microphone, running out of his hut to find the other player. “Yo, Albo, I’m gonna go hang with Jack. Yeah. Ok, I’ll probably get on later. Yeah. See ya.” Race logged off, putting his remote and headset in a drawer on the TV stand. He turned to Jack, who was still curled up on the couch. “C’mon,” he waved a hand to signal for Jack to follow him.

Race led Jack up to his room, which was similar to Jack’s own room in a few ways. The actual architecture was the same as Jack’s just mirrored. Race also had a desk but it was a different model and was cluttered with all kinds of odds and ends. His bed had what looked like childrens bed sheets with little cartoon planets and stars scattered across it. There was a small bedside table with a lava lamp on it.

One corner of the room was completely dedicated to a giant bean bag chair that was surrounded by pillows and blankets. Behind it on the wall was a large tie dyed tapestry. Jack actually thought that looked inviting

“Make yourself at home, that there is the cozy corner, guests get first dibs.” He pointed at the giant bean bag.

Jack nodded, kicking off his shoes before he fell back into the bean bag which was… incredibly comfortable. He sunk back into it, curling his knees up.

Meanwhile Race was rummaging through the top drawer of his bedside table. He pulled out a couple of things. First was a small remote with various colorful buttons, the other was what looked like a small makeup bag. Race turned to Jack with a mischievous smile. “Watch this.” He pressed a button on the remote and the room lit up blue. Jack hadn’t noticed but lining the ceiling of Race’s room were LED lights.

Race walked over to the window, pulling the blinds so that the unnatural light was the only thing brightening the room. The planets and stars on his sheets looked like they were glowing now. “Cool right? There are other colors but-” he flopped back onto his bed, “I think this one’s the best.” Race pushed himself up so that he was criss-cross on his bed and leaned over to turn on the lava lamp. “I can’t believe Mama thinks I don’t smoke. You’d think it’d be obvious by now.” He rolled his eyes, “Not as obvious as you though.”

“It’s not like I was trying to hide it,” Jack muttered, picking at the loose threads from the hole in his jeans.

“That’s what I don’t get.” Race had started rummaging through his small bag. Jack realized that Race didn’t have actual weed, he had carts. “It’s not that hard to be discreet, plus Mama doesn’t really care. I mean she does- but like if we were twenty-one she wouldn’t. She just doesn’t want us fucking up our brains or getting in any legal trouble.” Race screwed a cartridge into the battery and took a hit. “This is so fun! Bonding time!” he bounced up and down a few times, taking another hit.

Jack was slowly starting to regret coming in here. It felt like Race was about to be a ball of energy, which wasn’t necessarily a problem, just a bit overwhelming.

“Think fast!” Race yelled before chucking the pen over at Jack.

Jack was able to think fast and did indeed catch it but thought Race was being a bit reckless. He turned it over in his hand, reading the label. “Banana… Colada?” he asked skeptically.

“Yup! Fruity. Like me!”

“Right…” Jack took a hit and was met with an unpleasantly weed-y banana-y flavor. “This is terrible,” Jack said through a plume of smoke.

“You mispronounced, amazing,” Race leaned forward far enough so that he was on his stomach with his feet kicked back behind him.

“Nah, terrible is right.” He took another hit before throwing the grossness back at Race. Instead of trying to catch it, Race let it land on the bed behind him, paying it no mind.

“To each their own,” Race sighed, kicking his feet back and forth like a teenage girl in cheesy 2000s movies. “So, tell me about yourself,” Race prompted, now rolling onto his back so that his head could hang off the bed and watch Jack upside down.

“Not much to tell.” Jack shrugged, watching the lava lamp as it slowly warmed up, starting to work. He didn’t really want to talk, he just wanted to not think for a while.

“That’s alright.” Race sat up, grabbing his pen. He took another hit then grabbed something off of his bedside table. “I’ll tell you about me.” He walked over to the bean bag and pointed at it. “May I?”

“It’s your room, ain’t it?”

“Damn right it is!” Race flopped down next to Jack, mushing himself up against Jack’s side.

also adding this snippet because i <3 javey

David let out a huff of air as he fell back onto Jack’s bedspread. Jack had been sitting there for a while, legs criss-crossed, hunched over his sketchbook mindlessly scribbling away. There were various pencils, markers, and erasers scattered about around him. Occasionally he would lean back, turn his head, grab a different tool and then lean in to change some details.

David rolled onto his side to look at what Jack was drawing. He was unsurprised, but elated when he saw that Jack was, in fact, drawing him. “Looks good,” David complimented, flopping onto his back again.

“It’s alright,” Jack muttered, too focused on perfecting the details to say much more.

David rolled his eyes but didn’t bother refuting Jack, it was a battle he’d never win trying to get Jack to admit his art was decent. “You should give me a tattoo,” David said out of the blue.

Jack scoffed and shook his head. “What?”

“Not a real one,” David hurried to explain. “Just draw on my arm with a sharpie or something.”

“A sharpie would look like shit, the ink would bleed and look all muddy.”

“Ok, a pen then,”

Without another word Jack got up and walked over to his desk, sorting through a drawer until he found what he wanted. He crawled back up onto the bed and sat closer to David, taking David’s forearm and resting it in his lap. “You gotta tell me what to draw,” Jack said, peering down at David’s piercing blue eyes.

“Oh, um…” David closed his eyes, taking a moment to himself to think. “Something natural… like a plant or something.”

“A plant or something?” Jack repeated skeptically. “A’ight but you can’t get mad if you don’t like it.”

#so much in here #klaus voice: daddy issues daddy issues! mommy issues! Obnoxious ASSHOLE issues!#i didnt add medda being mother sorry guys :'(#javey #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #medda larkin #miss medda larkin #newsies #newsies fanfiction #my writing #smeed woking #tw drugs #smoking weed

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