#to be fair i say this as someone who can name every newsie in both the typical stage production as well as the 1992 version

[artfulacrostic]

the 3636262728 newsies have only whatever personalities that fanon can wring out of their .5 lines each, les mis fans keep going out of sheer spite even though most of les amis de l'abc don't even have canonical first names, and the vast majority of named clone troopers have never even taken their buckets off on-screen. so.

[heliads]

Prince

Spot’s surprised to find that Brooklyn has a new newsie joining its ranks, a boy he calls Prince who came to his turf from Queens. The only problem is that there may be more to Prince than meets the eye, like the fact that he isn’t a boy but instead Jack Kelly’s sister who ran away from Manhattan.

masterlist

Spot stands at the outskirts of the main room of the lodging house, leaning idly against a wall. It’s been a long, hard day, and he wants nothing more than to go to bed and forget everything that happened. Despite his whole ‘King of Brooklyn’ reputation as a ruthless leader, people tend to forget that Spot’s still a teenager. His unfazed glare is just a facade; behind it, someone still struggles to grow up too fast in a world that needs him to do the work of five just to survive.

A voice shouts out from behind him. “Hey, Spot! Got someone new here. They think they want to sell papes with us.” Spot waves a hand at the approaching figure without looking. “We already got enough mouths to feed.” The voice shouts back. “This one can pay! They was a newsie from Queens, and they got the pennies to prove it.” This piques Spot’s interest, and he turns around to see Snaps, one of the many Brooklyn newsies, approaching. There’s another boy not far behind him.

Spot fixes the newcomer with a piercing gaze. To be honest, he’s not sure how he feels about this guy. He’s already got a newsie cap, but it’s pulled low over their forehead to hide their face. They don’t look Spot in the eyes, as if they’re afraid of something. Fear isn’t something Brooklyn newsies should even know about.

“Who are you, and why did you leave Queens to come to Brooklyn? Don’t you know we’re tougher than any of youse?” The boy just shrugs. “Queens got boring. Figured I wouldn’t have that problem here.” Spot stares for a moment longer, then breaks into a short laugh. “Okay, I like this kid. Welcome to Brooklyn.”

Spot gestures for the newcomer to follow him. “Come on. Bunks is in here. This one’s empty, that’ll work for you. You used to be a newsie in Queens, so I assume you know the rules. Get up and ready by the circulation bell. Sell your papes and don’t take no for an answer. You already eaten tonight?” The new boy nods, and Spot raps his knuckles distractedly against the bunk before starting to head out. “Stay up however late you want. The rest of us will head out in an hour or so.”

You’ve done it. You really just did it. You’re now a Brooklyn newsie. It had taken everything you had to go through with your plan, even though you’d been thinking it through for weeks. Get up with the other Manhattan newsies like usual, pretend you were just going through a normal day. When the other boys leave, you pack your bag, dress up like a boy, and head over to Brooklyn, making sure you’re not seen on the way there. You say you’re from Queens, they let you in. End of story.

Only, that’s not really the truth. Yes, you’d been a newsie before, but only barely. You were great at selling papes, that wasn’t the problem. No, the real obstacle standing between you and surviving on the streets of Manhattan was your brother. Jack Kelly. 

See, Jack seemed to have some sort of old-fashioned idea that girls couldn’t- or shouldn’t- sell papes. Every time you tried to head out with the other newsies, he’d stretch out an arm in front of you with that same skeptical look on his face. You can almost hear his voice now. “And where do you think you’re going?” You always said the same thing. “Out to sell papes like anyone else.” You had tried to argue that you had to support yourself in some way, that it wasn’t fair that the other Manhattan boys had to slave away on the streets while you just sat around all day, but Jack wouldn’t hear a word. He’d make you stay at the lodging house, off the streets and out of trouble, or at least according to him.

You knew that he didn’t mean anything by it, that he was just trying to protect you. Jack felt guilty that his own sister would have to be selling papes right beside him, and he figured that as long as you didn’t have to do the same exhausting work you would be fine. However, you were sick of it. You could sell papes just as well as him, and you were tired of being nothing more than an afterthought. That’s why you decided to run away to Brooklyn. It was the last place Jack would look for you, and it would finally give you a chance to sell papes and really earn your spot alongside the other newsies.

You think your disguise had worked, but you still stay up late until you’re sure all of the other Brooklyn newsies are asleep before slipping out of bed and out of the window to stand on one of the fire escapes. You pull off your newsboy cap, reaching up to remove every last pin tying your hair in place and carefully slipping them into your pocket. You run your hands through your hair, sighing in relief. There’s a bandage wrapping around your chest to make your figure seem like more of a boy’s, but you’re able to take that off from underneath your shirt, wrapping it idly around your hands.

You stare out at the Brooklyn skyline before you. It’s funny- it’s the same city as Manhattan, same area of land. Yet it looks so different. It seems to promise possibilities, a future where you’re finally able to step out of Jack’s ever looming shadow. It’s your turn now, your turn to live and dream just as fervently as you wish. You sigh quietly, peaceful at last, then tear your gaze away from the city and head back inside. You pull the threadbare blankets close around you, curling up for a night’s rest.

You get up early the next morning before everyone else, taking care to rewrap your chest and repin your hair before people can see you. You’re not sure how long your disguise will hold out, but hopefully long enough that people will trust you and look the other way if they see something odd about you.

Across the city, the circulation bell starts ringing. The other boys have woken up at this point, and you all confidently head towards the Brooklyn Newsies Square. You form a line with the rest of the newsies. As you reach the front of the line, though, your heart starts to pound with panic. Handing out the papes are none other than Oscar and Morris, the Delancey brothers! There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll recognize you. They knew the newsies, and they’ll know you. This is it- you haven’t even been here a day and your plan is already over.

You slap your quarter down in the box, asking for a set of 50 papers. Oscar starts to reach for the papes, then he turns and squints at you suspiciously. “Wait, you look familiar. You’re not from Brooklyn, but I’ve seen you before.” You find you can’t say anything, just look at him like a deer in headlights. What do you do now? 

You’re saved when the newsie who’d introduced you last night, Snaps, comes up behind you, casually slinging an arm around your shoulders. “That’s ‘cause this newbie came from Queens. You probably saw them there.” You nod, grateful when Oscar shrugs and turns away, handing you your papes with an expression that makes it clear that he could not care less about you.

You wait for Snaps to get his papes, that flash him an appreciative smile. “Thanks for that. Gotta say, the one thing I was hoping to leave behind in Queens was the Delanceys. Looks like I’m not that lucky.” Snaps just grins. “No one’s lucky enough to avoid the Delanceys. They’re like the flu- show up everywhere.”

Snaps turns to you with a sudden frown. “You know, I just realized that you don’t have a nickname.” You look at him, confused. “Do I need one?” Snaps throws his hands in the air. “Of course you do! Every newsie needs a nickname, even if they’re the King of Queens.” There’s a voice from behind you, and Spot walks up casually next to you. 

“Trying to name another newbie? Was the last failure not enough for you?” Snaps groans. “Listen, I’m great at naming people. What about- Kingsy? You know, King of Queens. Like I said.” You can’t help but laugh. “That’s awful. I’d rather just go back to Queens.” Spot nods. “I like the idea, though. What about Prince? It’s still related to Queens, but it’s a level down because there’s only one King in Brooklyn, and that’s me.”

You shrug. “I don’t think I’m going to get anything better, so that sounds alright with me.” You’ve started heading away from Newsies Square, and you realize you don’t have a street assignment. You glance over at Spot. “I thought you said I was going to be following someone so I knew where to sell.” He nods, unconcerned. “Yeah. You’se following me.” You must seem surprised, because he looks over at you and laughs. “Don’t get overwhelmed. I want to see how they’re teaching newsies to sell over in Queens.” You shrug. “Alright, but don’t expect to do that well yourself. I might just steal all your customers.” Snaps laughs at Spot’s mock glare. “I like Prince. We need somebody new to make fun of Spot.”

The newbie actually isn't that bad at selling papes. Sure, Prince might have come from Queens, but to be honest, Spot wasn’t expecting a whole lot. Yet there they are, shouting out embellished headlines like they’ve done it their whole lives. He hates to say it, but Spot might actually be impressed. Before he knows it, it’s the end of the day, and they’ve both sold all of their papes. 

That day soon ends, and then the next day, and the next. Spot finds himself actually appreciating Prince. He’s a nice guy, someone who knows when to joke around and when to sell papes and be serious. Before long, Spot realizes he trusts the guy like a second in command, asking him questions about how to make sure Brooklyn sells the most papes and how to keep his boys out of trouble. Prince opens up too, but only gradually. There’s something about that boy that makes Spot think he’s hiding something, maybe the real reason about why he left Queens.

It’s odd- every night, Prince stays up late until he thinks everyone’s fallen asleep, and then he silently gets up and heads out to stand on the balcony. He stays there for a while, maybe ten minutes, and then goes back inside and falls asleep. He gets up early in the mornings, too, repeating the same routine before anyone’s awake enough to see him. Spot doesn’t pay attention to what he does, making sure his eyes are always shut when Prince passes. Spot knows enough about bad memories of the past to know that sometimes boys needing solitude should be left alone and not watched.

About two months after Prince comes to Brooklyn, Spot finds himself standing frustratedly in the little closet of a room he likes to call his office. Jack Kelly, of all people, has come over to pay him a visit. To be honest, he doesn’t really want to have to deal with Kelly. Not today. Yet there the guy is, pacing back and forth in front of him. Spot shakes his head slightly, trying to focus back on the conversation again.

“Look, all I’m asking is if you’ve seen her at all.” Spot holds up a hand, trying to figure out what Kelly’s talking about. “Sorry, who is this? Your sister? You lost your sister?” Jack sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Yeah, my sister. She’s a few months younger than you. I don’t know where she went or why she left, all I know is that she isn’t in ‘Hattan.” Spot raises an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “I can’t blame her. If I had to deal with you as a brother I’d probably leave too.”

At Jack’s glare, Spot rolls his eyes. “No, I haven’t seen your sister.” Jack frowns, pursing his lips. “I’ve checked all the other turfs. You’re sure she isn’t here?” Spot fixes Jack with a glare. “Yes, I’m sure. No goils in Brooklyn, least of all Kelly goils.” Spot sees movement in the hall outside, and, desperate for an interruption from this boring conversation, starts to move towards the door. “Here, I’ll ask Prince, just in case. If I don’t know, Prince might.” Spot raises his voice. “Hey, Prince? Get in here.”

Prince, who had been just passing by the door, pops his head in. “Yeah? What’s up?” He casually strides in the room, talking with a relaxed attitude that, for some reason, disappears the second he sees Jack’s turned back. In fact, he seems to freeze in place, some strange fear suddenly appearing in his eyes. The panic’s only there for a moment, though, and it flickers and disappears from his face just as quickly as it came.

Spot gestures towards Jack. “Kelly lost his sister. Have you seen her anywhere?” Prince shakes his head. “No, haven’t seen any sisters. That all?” Spot waves him away, and Prince practically runs out of the room. Spot watches him go with a questioning look, but shakes it away and turns back to Jack. “Look, we don’t have your sister. Can you go back to ‘Hattan now?” Jack nods and leaves, but not before asking Spot to tell him if he sees his sister, Y/N, at all. 

Now that Kelly’s left, Spot turns to more pressing issues, mainly the sudden fear in Prince. When Spot leaves the room, he can’t see Prince anywhere, not in the main room or even in his bunk. There’s only one place he would be, the one place he seems to frequent when he’s worried- the roof.

You can’t believe it. Jack was here- really here. And he was looking for you! Of all the times to walk past Spot’s office, why’d you have to choose the one moment when your brother was there? Luckily enough, he seemed not to recognize you. Then, the ugly truth of that matter really hits you. He didn’t recognize you. The brother you’d spent your entire life with didn’t realize that you were standing before him if you were wearing a cap with your hair tucked up underneath it? Ridiculous.

You hear footsteps behind you and whirl around in a panic, your shoulders sinking with relief when you realize it’s only Spot. Spot, however, looks even more worried than he did back in that room with Jack. “You want to tell me what’s got you so nervous? I know it’s something with Jack, you might as well just say it.” Your head jerks up at that, but you try to play it off as if nothing happened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing with Jack.”

Spot folds his arms across his chest. “There is very much something with Jack. You practically passed out the second you saw him. What’s wrong?” You remain silent, and he takes a step towards you. “You can trust me, you know. You can tell me anything.” You look at him through nervous eyes. “Anything?” He nods. “Anything.”

Before you know it, your hands are fumbling for your cap at the top of your head, pulling it off and taking out the pins in one mad rush. You comb your fingers through your hair, then turn back to him, cap clutched in your hands. Spot looks stunned, but then he speaks. “He said he was looking for his-” You cut him off. “His sister. Yeah.” Spot seems shocked. “I thought you said you came from Queens?” You laugh awkwardly. “I, uh, lied about that. Figured it would be easier to pretend I was a nobody from some other turf than have to explain about everything.”

Spot furrows his brow, confused. “What is everything? I mean, Manhattan’s not an awful place. Why would you leave?” You sigh, raking a hand through your hair. “Manhattan was great. The problem was the people. Jack wouldn’t let me sell papes because he didn’t think a girl could do it as well, and he didn’t want me selling with the other boys. I left because I wanted a life of my own.” You let out a broken chuckle, one that seems to echo around the rooftop with the sadness of a thousand lifetimes. “He didn’t come here until two months later. He didn’t even recognize me. At the beginning, I wondered whether or not I was right in coming here, in leaving him, but I can see now that I was.” You look back up at Spot with eyes slightly darting towards frenzy. “He doesn’t care about me. I don’t think he does at all.”

Spot steps closer to you, taking your hands in his. “He’d be wrong to do that. You’re an amazing goil, and amazing at selling papes. If he doesn’t want you, then you’ve got a home with us.” You look back up at him, finally letting a soft smile spread across your face. “You mean it? You’re not going to make me go back?” Spot raises an eyebrow. “And let go of one of our best sellers? No way. I might tell him I saw you somewhere in a week or so, just to make him stop worrying, but I won’t say a word about where you are. You’re with us now.”

He glances at you, donning a slight smirk. “Does this mean we have to call you Princess instead of Prince?” You laugh at him, swatting him with your cap. “Absolutely not. I’ll go back to my disguise and everything. Life like normal, right?” He smiles at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Life like normal. Only this time, you know I’ve got you.”

[violetwolfraven]

Crossover Headcanons

((I know I have requests in my inbox but I just had to get this out of my head. Also I probably won’t be posting those requests for a while because my writer’s block is only barely starting to lift, so...))

Anyway this is gonna start off from one perspective and go to more later. Enjoy. 💜

Tw: past death, nightmares

...

So this is a... spin-off? Of the reincarnation au? An alternate timeline? A variant? Whatever it is the newsies are reincarnated and remember their past.

Also somehow most of them are going to the same college here, (I’m not going to say which one because I don’t want to research colleges right now) even if they’ve got a wide range of majors.

There’s only one dorm building even if people are only allowed to share a room with someone of the same gender.

This works out well for Elmer, because he’s pretty happy to be rooming with his boyfriend, Buttons.

But then he gets up to the floor their dorm is on and almost drops the box he’s holding.

Because it’s fuckin her. His national-level math nemesis since 11th grade. They’ve only faced off twice, the first time with her team winning and the second with his winning, but they’re each the only one who can beat the other in a math competition.

Elmer can see the shock in her eyes as she recognizes him and shouts YOU and then she’s stomping over to him aggressively enough that he’s pretty sure she wants to throw down physically.

Jack (who’s also on that floor with Davey) figures that too, and steps in front of him before she gets too close, but that girl acts like she doesn’t even notice him and shouts I WAS HALF A SECOND BEHIND YOU SOLVING THAT PROBLEM!

Elmer is kinda terrified but he defensively shoots back well I still solved it first and moves around Jack because this is his math nemesis and his fight.

The girl scowls at him for a couple more seconds then just sticks out her hand to shake, and Elmer realizes that he doesn’t actually know her name beyond the surname he’s seen on the back of her mathletes jacket. She introduces herself as Cady Heron.

Elmer Kazprzak, he responds, and Cady looks like she’s trying not to laugh, but he figures that’s probably fair, with how ‘Elmer’ was a common name in 1885 but not so much in 2003.

Jack clears his throat so Elmer introduces him but forgets that this isn’t their high school so things like oh this is Jack. He’s basically my dad. are weird.

Cady definitely thinks it’s weird but she doesn’t question it. Instead she just asks where Elmer is living, and it turns out, of course, he and Buttons are right next door to her and her roommate, Karen.

(I say Cady is living with Karen because Gretchen wanted to live with Regina and rules be damned Janis is with Damien.)

Elmer isn’t completely sure he’s not going to get murdered in his sleep but he guesses if he could handle the 1899 Newsboy Strike and World War I he can handle Cady Heron.

Meanwhile Katherine is going to Harvard so Sarah is rooming with someone she’s never met and she’s a little nervous.

And in stomps a girl who declares I’m a lesbian and if you have a problem with that tell me now so I can switch dorms.

And Sarah responds with my girlfriend out at Harvard would be pretty pissed at me if I did have a problem with that.

The girl lets her guard down, explains that she comes from a small town, and says her name is Alyssa Greene.

After that little bump, they get along good. Alyssa explains that her girlfriend, Emma, registered late and couldn’t get a dorm with who she wanted.

And Sarah’s just kinda like wait Emma as in Unruly Hearts Emma? Alyssa’s just like yeah!! I’m so proud of her!!

Sarah brags a bit about how Katherine is studying to be a journalist with a specialty in queer stories and long story short they become besties and eventually Alyssa introduces Emma for real and Sarah introduces Smalls and Sniper.

Emma and Alyssa are a bit thrown by the whole nickname thing but hey whatever now they have a Lesbian Club!

They do meet up with the boys occasionally but the Lesbian Club meets on a video call with Katherine every Saturday.

Anyway Jack meets Janis in art class and initially they kinda think each other is weird because their styles are very different but then they get in an actual conversation and get along amazingly.

Jack is definitely a fan of Janis’s philosophy of when someone hurts your friends you attack and grind your foe into the ground.

Janis tells her new bestie about Cady and Damien (and Regina, Gretchen, and Karen, though she still keeps Cady and Damien closer than the former Plastics) and she’s honestly shocked by the amount of friends Jack tells her about.

She does recognize some names, though. Romeo and Damien are both theatre majors and they’ve become friends.

But anyway Jack and Janis are like. Super good friends. Art buddies. Mlm/wlw solidarity. Protective friend pals.

Janis is pretty surprised when she introduces him to Cady and they’ve already met, and apparently oh fuck your math nemesis is Jack’s Elmer???

Jack’s just going oh fuck Elmer’s math nemesis Cady is Janis’s Cady???

Also Regina met Spot and Sarah at the gym and now they meet up with a few other people every other week to throw down like their own personal fight club.

At first Regina was just angrily trying to fight with no technique, but don’t worry, Spot and Sarah teach her.

There weren’t a ton of out gays at Northshore High, so yeah the Mean Girls crew definitely gets along with the Newsies crew out of solidarity.

Janis and at least one of the Plastics but I can’t choose which one(s) join the Lesbian Club.

Meanwhile Race is super hyped to meet Emma cause like I choreographed a dance to your song wanna see???

Emma is flattered but kinda weirded out and she mentions her friend Angie who’s a dancer too and Race is just *error 404*

Cause of course he saw the news story and knows Emma knows these 4 big Broadway stars but it just. Hasn’t connected until this moment that she like has their numbers.

He tries not to freak out too much cause he knows that’s weird but Emma eventually goes do you wanna meet her? And Race goes do I wanna meet her? She’s only my IDOL!! she’s been dancing like 20 years and she’s still got it!!

Emma calls Angie partially because she likes her new dancer friend and wants to make him happy and partially because she wants to prove to Angie that people do appreciate her zazz and despite how she was just a chorus girl until a few months ago this random boy from New York has been a fan since he was 12.

Angie can’t exactly fly over at the drop of a hat but she watches some videos on YouTube of Race dancing and like holy hell this kid is good. And his friends are too but this kid right here has zazz off the charts.

When she finds out he’s an orphan she’s lowkey can I adopt him??? but then she finds out he already has an adoptive mother and it’s Medda Larkin.

Medda Larkin who did more than a few shows with Angie when they were young but left Broadway to open her own theatre.

They fell out of touch years ago but still follow each other on Instagram and stuff.

But Angie shows Barry and Dee Dee and she’s super excited like remember Medda Larkin??? THIS IS HER ADOPTIVE KID AND HE’S AMAZING

And they watch YouTube clips of Emma’s new friends in high school shows and like wtf these kids are fuckin talented why aren’t they on Broadway???

They almost tell Emma to tell her friends to drop out of college and come straight (haha not that straight) to Broadway but Trent is like wtf no education is important.

Whatever the actors aren’t that relevant.

Sarah has a nightmare about her death one night. And with the others it’s not as big of a deal because they’re all rooming with each other, but Sarah’s roommate isn’t one of them.

She thinks Alyssa is asleep so she calls Katherine crying about how scared she was, how guilty she felt to be leaving her brothers and friends and Kath without a goodbye.

And Alyssa isn’t quite awake, but she’s awake enough that she hears Sarah whisper about how everything is just so stupid complicated. I shouldn’t be afraid of dying when I’ve done it before—when we’ve all died horribly—but I still am, Kitty. I can’t stop being afraid.

Alyssa is out of it enough that she falls back asleep, but when she wakes up she knows what she heard. That her roommate thinks she had a past life and died and implied that all her friends did.

Emma notices she’s acting weird and when she asks what’s wrong she tells her.

They both know it sounds crazy, but...

Emma tentatively points out some weird things about their friends from New York.

She’s study buddies with Race and occasionally he points something out she got wrong on her history homework. Something so small and inconsequential that it would’ve been almost impossible for him to know unless he was there and remembered from experience.

Smalls and Sniper have a habit of jumping apart if they were so much as holding hands and someone walks in on them, even though they come from a mostly accepting city with an accepting friend group.

That whole group straight up skipped history class the whole week they were learning about World War I and refused to make up the work.

They bring the half-baked theory to Janis who immediately remembers all the times she’s seen Jack draw small war-torn towns in France and dirty city streets and an outdated skyline as if seen from a rooftop, all of them too detailed to be anything but directly copied from something Jack has seen before.

But the question is if they’re drawn from a reference photo or a memory.

Cady realizes, upon hearing the theory, that Elmer and Buttons never take her up on offers to come to football games because they don’t like the noise.

More specifically, she remembers the look on her nemesis/frenemy’s face when he said he didn’t like fireworks.

Aaron notices that Davey always solves math problems by hand. He never uses a calculator unless someone reminds him it’s an option. And half the time, he defaults to using his right hand with terrible handwriting even though he’s left handed. Almost like he was raised with the whole ‘left hand devil’ thing, which doesn’t make sense because he went to a public school; not a religious one.

Damien realizes that Romeo has a habit of correcting the costume department, like he knows the period clothing for Hello, Dolly! better than they do. It annoys the hell out of them because upon some research, he is always right.

Regina notes how Spot and Sarah fight like they’re fighting for their lives in a street brawl. She knows that because she started taking karate in an attempt to win fights. She noticed months ago that her friends use technique that’s barely sustainable, like they’re just trying to stay alive until they can run or backup comes.

However all this is just fun and games, a crack theory they’re all mildly creeped out by but don’t really believe, until Gretchen finds it.

An article on the Newsboy Strike of 1899.

There’s a copy of the Newsies Banner, written by Katherine Plumber, which references strike leaders Jack Kelly and David Jacobs.

But they could write that off as just a creepy coincidence if not for the photo.

It’s the one Katherine and Darcy took that first day, which is in black and white and not the greatest quality, but clearly shows a lot of familiar faces.

A later story by this Katherine Plumber documents lives of street kids with interviews from kids with the same odd nicknames as the group they know.

Regina was the most cynical about this theory and even she can’t deny it now. There’s just too much evidence.

Especially when Karen finds Crutchie’s obituary, but Regina stops her from showing it to anyone else because that’s just too creepy.

The Mean Girls crew and Alyssa and Emma are... unsure if they should confront their friends about this, because a) this is freaky and b) the newsie gang is clearly still harboring trauma due to their deaths.

Plus, as Damien points out, being gay was illegal in 1899. Do you think they want a reminder of how they had to hide their feelings for each other back then?

Emma and Alyssa share a knowing look because they know what that’s like.

In the end Karen lets it slip when she asks Davey a question about her history homework involving World War II, mistakenly believing he was there.

Davey naturally questions her about it and she spills the entire story about how Alyssa heard Sarah’s phone call and they figured everything else out from there. She even shows him the article with the 1899 photo and the Newsies Banner.

And... shit, there’s a lot of memories behind that picture. And that’s them, over a hundred years ago, when they were kids and they weren’t all the same age like this time around.

The old Davey looks so big compared to Romeo and Elmer and god was Specs tall for a 15-year-old.

Davey didn’t even meet Smalls and Sniper in this lifetime until they were 16, but in that picture they’re only 13 and they’re so small.

A sidenote on Katherine has a picture of her in a hairstyle he hasn’t seen her in since 1917.

It’s a mixture between ptsd and nostalgia and Davey can’t decide whether to freak out or be happy.

He takes the article to Jack and tells him about how Gretchen found it and their non-reincarnated friends know.

Jack’s silently cursing the fact that he really should have been more careful with what he drew around Janis, but it’s kinda a relief that they know, honestly.

He shoots a quick text to the group chat and then turns his phone on do not disturb mode while he sits Janis down for a little chat.

He doesn’t go into graphic detail, but he does tell her an abridged version of everything. How they were basically a family and all lgbt+ in the early 20th century and how they died before their time and got a second chance.

It’s more than a little freaky for Janis, but it does explain a lot.

Such as how Jack demonstrates on a dare that he can still do some parkour because once upon a time, he used it to run from the cops.

Elmer tells Cady he’s so quick at math because he used to have to calculate change quickly and later had to help Jack and Davey come up with battle plans based on numbers vs tactics and terrain.

Regina definitely trusts Spot’s combat advice a lot more now because he was essentially a gang leader as a teenager and it has literally saved his life.

Race admits to Emma that her song made him cry because... in this lifetime he might not have had to be closeted, but in his last he was constantly worried about getting arrested or worse if people found out not just about him and his boyfriend, but his friends. His family.

Emma may or may not collaborate with him after that to write a song about how much it hurts to be closeted for your own safety and how much better it feels to be free to be who you are. Race dances in the music video and many of the other newsies make appearances but it’s mainly him and Emma. Spot and Alyssa cry when they see it. Damien does, too.

Who am I kidding everyone cries.

They get like 4 million hits on YouTube and it’s amazing.

The title is probably In the Light or something.

Also Cady, Aaron, Kevin, and Elmer form their own college level mathletes team and no one can beat them.

(Kevin’s not as close with the main group literally only because I don’t know that much about him as a character.)

(Also Stacy, Kailey, and whatever their boyfriends’ names are might be there somewhere but I don’t know them either.)

Katherine does get to meet the new kids in person eventually. And also I didn’t mention this earlier but Specs goes to Harvard too and he comes to visit too.

The power when the Lesbian Club finally gets to meet all in person? Unparalleled.

:)

[justrednow]

A little Winter Fever

warnings: Severe illness, financial insecurity, hospitals, death, minimal editing, swearing, extreme cold,                                                                                      my crappy OCs

word count: 2393

Characters: Smalls. (OC’s->) literally everyone else except Roger I guess

Description: The Bronx newsies are hit hard by winter. Not only can they barely make enough to eat, they find temperatures are rising but not outside.    (Sorry for anyone who needs to scroll, I don’t know how to make read more)       _____________________________________________________________

Smalls stared at her bag still filled with 20 papers. She looked up to the street, snow danced in the lights from the lamps. It felt like her cheeks were being cut from the blizzard winds. She dropped the 21st paper back into the bag and shoved her ungloved hands into her pockets. The wind grabbed her skin through the thin shirt she had on. It was too early in the day to call it quits on selling, but her feet were numb. Her boots were wrecked, they were new too. she could feel the water seeping into them. She moved into the stoop of a store, to get out of the wind.

She jumped as a man pushed on the door behind her. Smalls quickly moved out of the way as he walked past her. “Care to buy a paper, sir?” She asked desperately.  To her delight, the man turned to look at her, almost studied her bright red cheeks. To her dismay, he huffed and scurried out into the winter winds. “Maybe next time,” she whispered to herself.

The day dragged on like that. Hiding and begging for people to buy from her. She didn’t break even on the day like she had hoped. Not even close. She pressed 3 coins in her pocket and trudged back home. She was shivering, her lips were blue and chapped.

Finally arriving at The Bronx lodge, she shook the snow from her hair, tossing the sack of papers to the side.  The slightly warmer air welcomed her with the hushed chatter coming from the other room. Smalls glanced at the attendant, lowered her head and kept walking. She owed money for her stay, 14 cents that she didn’t have. She spent it on food for the younger ones. Probably the only reason they hadn’t kicked her onto the streets yet. She traveled into the rec room as it was called. Young newsies ran, oblivious to the winter cold.

Spaniel looked up from her reading, a newspaper that hadn’t been sold. “Someone’s home late.” Her low voice chirped, alerting BlueJay.

Smalls shrugged it off, “it was a rough day.” Spaniel returned her dark eyes to the page. “As you already know, I’m sure.”

“Sure,” the girl murmured. “Didn’t see you at circulation this morning, how much did you take?”

“Only 25,” Smalls plopped herself down next to BlueJay who was sewing away at a loose button. “You?” She nudged him, having expected him to make more of a fuss about her.

“15, I’m not foolish,” he didn’t even look up from his work. “Spaniel didn’t leave today.”

“I did too!” Smalls heard the sound of a paper crinkling as she focused on the frost on the window glass. “But,” the girl stood up as a little newsie tripped over her outstretched leg, “I knew I wouldn’t sell nothing.” the little one, Frog, started coughing. “Carajo! Cover, child!” She stepped away, pulling her shawl closer to her. Frog shrugged and continued playing with the others. “What kept you really? Damn Brooklyn kid’s not dumb enough to walk up here, is he?”

“Someone’s nosy,” Jay chuckled, “it's not like she’s the last one back.”

“She might well be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Smalls sat up a bit more than she had been. “Everyone else is still out there, they’re coming back.”

“No one told you what the paper was?” Spaniel frowned. Smalls hadn’t thought to ask,  the week had been so quiet and slow. “Scarlet Fever, all over Manhattan. They go down there, they’re good as gone.”

“No one is dumb enough to go to Manhattan in this weather,” Smalls assured her friend. “If they are...”

Jay nervously pulled at his sleeves. He had made it to Queens, to see his grandmother. Crazy old lady. “Only Manhattan?” He asked. He prayed it wouldn’t reach here. They’d all be dead.

“Right now, yeah. Hospitals are packed, you can’t see a doctor.”

“Speaking of,” Smalls interrupted, “Doc isn’t back. He’s typically here before you.” She shifted uneasily. She never liked talking about illness, it reminded her of...

Spaniel shook her head, curly black hair bouncing unaffected by the winter. “He’s upstairs, resting.”

“Tom?” Smalls frowned.

“He was here, now he’s not.”

Smalls opened her mouth to list off another name but Jay cut her off. “They’re fine, don’t let hyperbole get you upset.” He had already convinced himself not to be worried about this. “Besides someone having a little fever isn’t going to prevent them from coming back to the lodge.” he rested a hand on her shoulder for comfort. “Hypothermia will.”

“Why.” Smalls turned slowly, “why would you say that?”

“He’s an ass,” Roger walked into the room, stomping snow off of his boots and throwing himself down into a chair. “He’s right though, heard they found a kid from Harlem stuck in the snow. Said his skin was ice.” Roger took a breath as he brushed the water drops from his hair. “Wasn’t dead though. Don’t know how long before he did kick it.”

“Again,” Spaniel sighed and closed the door of the room, “ain’t no one dumb enough to stand out in that cold for that long.”

There was a moment of silence around the group. They were dumb enough, if not dumb they were desperate enough. Each thought about how many times they had refused to go back no matter how damn cold they were. The inside of their mouth could have been covered in ice from yelling and nothing would have changed.

More importantly, Roger’s mind wandered to Knot. The kid was 14 and refused to follow him back to the lodge. Roger had given up and left him alone in the cold. That was the wrong call. It took a week to find him, froze to death in an alley next to an apartment building. Roger took the blame, every time it came up. Not that it came up often. But it was hard for him not to when he thought about everything he could have done differently. It was hard not to think about it when the little ones set out on their own and Roger imagined finding their little bodies curled up around a coat they stole.

“Roger,” Smalls repeated for the third time. This time he came too. “Jay’s going to run and get food, want anything?”

Roger wiped under his eyes. They burned but no tears had fallen. “Yeah, whatever they have. I’ll pay you back,” he promised.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jay was already heading out before Roger could protest the idea. Roger glanced at the clock, he became aware of its ticking.  “it’s already 6?”

Spaniel looked up at the clock and shrugged. “Guess so.” She began to pick up clutter around the room, shooing the little newsies off to wash up. She tossed the paper into the fireplace, taking a moment to watch it smoke and crumple. After the few books in the whole building had been put back into their basket Spaniel found her way back to her chair.

“I’m gonna go find Tom,” Roger excused himself as the conversation was over.

Smalls chuffed in amusement, “looking for a fight?”

“You know it,” he sighed before ducking out of the room. Smalls watched him go before she began to pull off her boots. Her socks were still wet. She made a noise. She pulled them off and laid them over the fire.  Her bare feet were still cold but the carpet felt good, almost soft.

“What are we going to do with him,” Spaniel sighed with a smile as she traced her nail across the frosted window.

“Tom?” Smalls raised an eyebrow as she glanced out into the entrance of the building, “or Roger?”

“Both will get themselves killed,” Spaniel chuckled.

_____________________________

Within the next 2 weeks, seven were sick. Five were little ones: Frog, Jani, Louis, Hop, and Slingshot. The other two were Spaniel and Roger. They were all kept in the sick room. The healthy children started calling it the death room, Smalls almost hit them. Yet they weren’t wrong. They had nothing to reduce fevers, all used up. The only medicine for the illness was in hospitals. No adult was rushing to pay that bill. No newsie had the money.

Instead, they went about their lives. It was never of their minds, though. Who was next to become ill, who would die first? What could be done?

Smalls got back earlier and earlier, she couldn’t stand to be away.  She sat in a little wooden chair by the door, listening to the coughing and children crying. She wanted it to be her, just to save one of them.

Jay returned for her when he could. But his own problems arose in Queens. He brought her a chunk of bread from his Grandmothers. “What did she say?” Smalls disregarded the offering.

“She doesn’t like Orphans, Smalls,” Jay let out a long sigh. “Especially street kids.”

Smalls stood up, she was ready to snap. “You’re a street orphan! But we all know that if it was you in that room you’d have a doctor living in the same room as you!” she shouted. “It isn’t fair! She can help them, you know she can!”

“I know...” Jay didn’t need a reminder of anything. “What do you expect me to do that I haven’t already done.” His grandmother was as stubborn as she was rich.  “We’d have better luck begging at the doors of a hospital.” Smalls turned to him. “Which we are not going to do because it’s probably a crime in some way.”

“What other option do we have, watch them die?” Smalls spoke again. He turned away. “They are dying, Jay! You can’t ignore that, it’s not going to go away.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to be saying to you right now,” Jay shook his head and pushed the door with his foot, looking into the dark room. Spaniel caught his eye right away. Her usually rosy brown skin was now all rose. She was sweating and shivering. but she managed a smile and a wave to them before throwing herself into a fit of coughing. “Alright, let’s go.”

Smalls pulled the door shut and they headed out. She felt the tear in her boot become soaked with water, but it didn’t matter. She followed close behind Jay as the wind whistled in her ears. Around halfway there she began to think about what would happen if this didn’t work. What were they asking of these doctors? These doctors with other patients who are paying and more important that grungy street orphans. Smalls hugged herself tight as she thought about the five in the room, she coughed instead of crying. Jay spun around.

“I’m fine, we’re almost there, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded and slowed down so that they would be walking side by side.

Before long they were there, walking in and moving around the rush. Smalls stared, she didn’t realize how many people there could be. She averted her eyes when she saw a mother holding a newborn with an awful rash. She then turned to an older man and his wife, both nervous looking. Jay pulled her by the arm to the front administration desk.

“We need to talk to a doctor!” Jay demanded.

The lady at the front desk nodded, “yes, I could have assumed that. Are you visiting a patient or admitting?”

Smalls looked to Jay desperately. The answer was neither. They didn’t have a plan, they didn’t bother to make one. “Visiting our younger sister, we are very worried about her.” The lady looked between the two of them, they didn’t look alike. “Last name?”

Jay paled a bit but continued to speak. “Smith.”

She pulled out a book and shuffled some papers. “First name?”

“Mine?” Jay stammered, “or hers?”

“The name of the patient, and if needed the disease they have.” Smalls flinched as she listened, around her people were chattering and coughing and sneezing. It was loud and she was scared.

“Elizabeth, scarlet fever,” Jay answered. 1 out of 100 lies is true. Smalls nodded along. “May we see her doctor please?”

“‘Fraid that’s the only person you can talk to...” The lady tapped on the desk. “She died this morning.” Smalls chocked and Jay bit down on his lip. he imagined the newsies, dead. “Wait down the hall, the doctor will be with you.”

Smalls, in her turn, grabbed Jay by his coat sleeve and lead him down the hall. “Dead.” She echoed.

__________________________

“Alright, I‘m confused...” Dr. Ellsen stared at the two. “You lied to come and talk to a doctor about curing a disease?”

“We just need the medicine, we can take it from there,” Smalls explained. The doctor rubbed his face laughing in dark ironic humor. Smalls looked at Jay who had leaned forward to see what the laughter was about.

The doctor stood up and looked at the pair. “You don’t get it, do you?” He sighed, “there is no cure for Scarlet Fever. If there was do you think half of our wards would be full of crying toddlers right now?” The two said nothing. “You’re brave to come here, but there is nothing to be done.” Jay opened his mouth to say something. “Free advice, you best take it. Keep that door shut and locked. They’ll be dead soon enough. Especially considering how weak you two look, can’t imagine it’ll take long.”

“Your pessimism is much appreciated,” Jay retaliated.

“Try being an optimist after telling a new mother her baby died,” he ushered them to the door. “I’m sorry. No need to waste the money you have here.”

____________________________

By the time they got back to the lodge, they found out that two more had been brought into the sick room. Spaniel somehow looked worse. Smalls entered the room, despite her better judgment. 

She sat down on the edge of the bed that Hop was laying in. The child had curled around the thin knit blanket he had been given. Smalls brushed a hand over his sweating forehead. She realized how still he was and gave his cold body a nudge.

Panic swelled inside her as she jumped to her feet, shaking him harder. She looked for any sign of life. “Hop!” she shouted at him, alerting the others in the room. “Hop?” Her voice grew more and more desperate for the six-year-old to wake up. But he stayed in his endless sleep. Within the week half of those in the room would join him. 

There is no cure.

[samsonet]

What matter to me if their star is a world?

No encores. Not songs, not moves, not Pokemon.

But then what does that make her?

Title from Robert Browning's "My Star"

~

When Marnie is five years old, her brother gives her a Pokemon.

It has to be a dark-type, but it looks so bright that the idea is hard to believe. It waddles over, sniffs her ankles, then raises its arms. Marnie knows what that means. It wants to be picked up!

“I thought havin’ a partner might help ya not be scared all the time,” her amazing big brother says.

He hands her its pokeball.

“Thank you! Thank you!”

Next, Piers asks a gym trainer to battle her. Marnie wins her very first time. She runs on the field and hugs Morpeko tight. Everyone says she’s so talented and that they’re proud of her.

(Later, she’ll realize that the older trainer let her win. But back then? She was five. She thought the world belonged to her.)

*

Marnie can’t sing. Can’t pour out her soul. Can’t even yell. Her voice is small and soft, a violin among electric guitars.

Her brother seems to realize that. He finds other ways for her to support him. Help carry the microphone, Marnie. Raise your arms like this to get the audience hyped up. Stand there and look cute, Marnie, people love that.

She jumps to obey the first time, because her brother hates repeating himself.

No encores. Not songs, not moves, not Pokémon.

But when the show is over and they go home, when it’s just him and her in their messy cold apartment, he’ll keep singing the same lullaby until she falls asleep.

*

The trouble with Morpeko is this: it never stays in one mood for long.

It goes from cheerful to angry in the blink of an eye, and it continues to catch her off guard. Every time a trainer yells or Piers’ Pokémon surprise her or there’s another sudden blackout — every time that a younger Marnie would have cried — well, now Morpeko needs her. There’s no time for crying now.

She feeds him berries and hugs him close to her chest. He’s her best friend. (Her only friend.)

It takes a while for her to understand her partner well enough to cope with his moods. She likes to think it made them closer.

*

Piers wants her to take over the gym.

That’s the plan. That’s always been the plan, ever since the day Spikemuth’s last leader croaked and Piers somewhat-accidentally ended up with the gym. He’s been holding on to it, taking care of all the trainers and whatnot, but it’s not his dream.

(It’s not hers, either, but someone has to do it.)

She’s growing like a dandelion, poking her head through a crack in the concrete. She should consider herself lucky to be under the care of someone who thinks she’s worth nurturing.

(She still can’t sing.)

None of it matters.

One day, she’ll grow tall and strong. One day, she’ll master dark-types. One day, she’ll stand on Piers’ stage, wearing his uniform and battling with his style, and all the yells will sound the same.

*

One day, when she and Piers are setting up the stage, Marnie’s world changes forever.

Her brother says, in a casual voice, “I’m thinking of endorsing you for the gym challenge.”

She nods, stuffs some paper under a wobbly leg on the drum set, and then has a double-take.

The gym challenge. A way to get out of this town. A chance to make a name for herself, to be someone other than Piers’ dear little sister. The possibility of battling the champion. The possibility of beating the champion.

She’d never really thought of it before.

It surprises her, how suddenly she wants it.

She meets her brother’s eyes. No amount of makeup disguises the exhaustion, but he puts the effort into smiling for her.

She gives a small smile in return. “So I’d be representin’ you, huh?”

“You don’t have ta worry about representin’ me. You’re my champion no matter what.” It’s corny, but no one is around to hear. “But you’d be representing Spikemuth, Marn. I know it’s not an easy task. Do you feel up to it?”

She looks to Morpeko. Her partner gives a cheeky grin.

“Yeah. We c’n do it.”

*

Of course, her brother doesn’t let her go alone.

“I’m gonna be sendin’ some people with ya, okay? They’re there to protect ya.”

His gym trainers, dressed in the most paper-thin disguises, follow her out of Spikemuth and onto Route 9.

“What are ya doin’, dressed like that?” she asks.

Joshua answers: “We’re Team Yell! We’re gonna support you through the whole challenge!”

The other trainers give yelps and woohoos. “Go Marnie! That’s our Marnie! Yay Marnie!!”

It’s so easy to be talked over and shouted down.

She’s not getting rid of them as long as she stands here, though, so Marnie keeps walking and pretends they aren’t there.

She makes it to Motostoke safe and sound, and that’s what counts, right?

*

Leon’s girl is quiet, even by Marnie’s standards. She looks at everything with wide eyes, like she’s overjoyed and overwhelmed. She’s brown eyes and brown hair and brown skin, plain posture and plain clothes. Either she hasn’t figured out her aesthetic yet, or her aesthetic is to be so normal that one might overlook her.

She’s got a lovely smile, though.

Marnie decides she likes her.

“You’re lookin’ a bit gobsmacked by all this,” she says.

The girl nods, grinning sheepishly.

“You must be from some small country town, is that it? I’m quite the same myself.”

The girl stands awkwardly, like she’s not used to conversation. Then she kneels down and makes faces at Morpeko. For his part, Morpeko seems to love it. Fair enough. Don’t trainers usually connect through their Pokemon? Maybe that’s what this girl is trying to do.

Leon’s brother rushes up. “Gloria, come on! Sorry, everyone, we gotta go!”

He grabs the girl by the hand, and in the blink of an eye, they’re gone.

Marnie will learn later, from magazine profiles and TV interviews, that Gloria is the childhood friend of Leon’s little brother. The pair of them are like peas in a pod, apparently. In the interviews, Hop is always the one talking. He speaks like he’s never heard of an indoor voice. Gloria is almost silent beside him, nodding along, only saying a few words when specifically prompted.

Marnie understands. When everyone around is so loud, sometimes it’s an advantage to be quiet.

She hopes they’ll get the chance to speak properly.

*

At the hotel, Gloria has just battled a group of Team Yell grunts. Inwardly, Marnie groans. Like it or not, Team Yell is her fandom, which means she has some responsibility for what they do.

Does Piers know how much of a pain his trainers will be if they keep acting like this?

They're there to protect you.

Her brother hates repeating himself.

She tells Team Yell to just go home. Piers can send them out again later if he wants.

She turns to the other kids, explains what Team Yell is doing. “Sorry if they caused you any trouble.”

She expects them to look at her with scorn. Look at this girl, with a thick accent and dirty clothes. Look at how she thinks she’s so special, with a team of hooligans following her around.

But then Leon’s little brother speaks.

“So you’re a gym challenger, too?” Hop folds his arms behind his head. He’s got a cute toothy grin; he’s obviously used to being happy. “Team Yell, was it? Pretty impressive that you already have a set of fans to call your own!”

He really doesn’t know.

But Marnie smiles all the same.

*

She’s in a boutique in Motostoke when she sees Hop again.

“Watch out! I’m coming through!”

He pushes blithely past anyone in his way. Of course, no one gives him any trouble. He’s the champion’s little brother. He can do whatever he likes.

It seems that what he wants to do is look at the same rack of snapbacks Marnie is.

He picks up a League Sponsored Normal Type Hat (™). “Hey, Marnie, how does this look on me?”

He says it like they’re not basically strangers.

He says it like he’s entitled to her thoughts.

(Being Leon’s little brother must come with a lot of perks, huh.

But that’s a mean thing to think.)

She decides to humor him. “It looks fine.”

“Aw, come on! Look at me!”

She does.

She’s struck with the strangest sense of deja vu, but in a moment she understands why.

Hop has his brother’s face. Hop has his brother’s smile. Hop has his brother’s eyes.

People say that Marnie and Piers look alike, but a good portion of that is because they’re both punk. Put them in prep clothes, and the resemblance grows less distinct.

(Piers’ eyes always look so tired. If Marnie takes over the gym, will her eyes start to look like that, too?

No encores.

She’s probably a remix.)

“Are you figuring out what you want your image to be?” she asks.

“Mm. Yeah, I guess? You gotta give the audience a way to find you outta all the other challengers.”

Marnie hums. “You’ve already got a good template if ya play up how much ya look like Leon.”

Immediately, she knows that was the wrong thing to say. Hop drops the hat as if burned, and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

Marnie looks at the hat that she’d been considering, a League Sponsored Dark Type (™).

“Y’know, though,” she says, kneeling down to pick a more generic newsie cap, “my big brother is always talkin’ about not doin’ encores. It’s good ta always have somethin’ new, right?”

She hands him the cap. It’s blue, a shade off from the jacket Hop is wearing. He fits his hair under it, then tilts his head to give her a better view.

“It looks good on you,” she says.

He grins, then reaches down and pulls out a bright pink cap. He places it on her head, but her pigtails get in the way, and they both scramble to catch it before it hits the floor.

Hop starts laughing first, because that’s the kind of person he is, and soon Marnie is giggling too.

In this moment, she and Hop don’t represent anyone.

In this moment, they’re simply two kids in a new place, trying out different styles and having fun.

They buy the newsie hats. They buy matching jackets and shirts and trousers, too, because they have money now and no older brothers to stop them.

Hop gives her a cheerful goodbye and promises to meet her in the next town.

Marnie heads into the dressing room. She wants to examine the new clothes.

The inside of the cap and the lining of the jacket’s sleeves are both some silky fabric. The blouse is wooloo wool, soft as Morpeko’s fur. She runs her hands over it, enjoying the sensation, then puts the outfit on and snaps a selfie.

She looks like a princess. Not the ones like Cinderella, who came from poverty and ascended with the help of fairy godmothers. No, Marnie looks like one of the princesses who was born a princess. She looks like she’s used to elegance and influence.

It’s a nice daydream.

She puts on her usual outfit back on, then packs up the new clothes and mails them home at the next postbox.

It’s too late to be changing her style now.

*

“You’re Piers’ sister, right?” Milo asks, moving a hay bundle like he doesn’t realize how much of a flex it is. “I was listening to his stuff the other day. He’s really good.”

“He is.” Marnie holds up a pokeball. “But I’m here to battle you.”

The next TV spot describes her as stoic and emotionless. They say she’s serious, goal-focused. She doesn’t know how to feel about it.

*

It turns out Gloria likes normal-types. Beside her Scorbunny, she’s got a Wooloo and an Eevee. Plain girl, plain clothes, plain Pokemon.

But however plain Gloria is, her smile is genuine. It’s the kind of expression that connects with an audience.

Later that night, Marnie examines herself in her Rotom-phone’s camera. Her natural smile is so small that it’s not much different from her usual flat expression.

She puts on finger on either side of her lips and physically pulls them up.

It’s better, but still not enough.

*

She meets Bede on the outskirts of Stow-on-Side.

He’s got a Copperajah by his side. It’s not the kind of Pokémon she would expect him to have, but if the league was supposed to be about growing as a person…

He almost barrels over her. Lucky for Marnie, she’s got Team Yell behind her. They keep her from falling, and one of them grabs Bede by the back of his coat.

“Get your hands off of me,” Bede growls.

“You gotta apologize to Marnie first!”

“Why would I waste my time —”

(Why doesn’t the Copperajah do anything? Does it not care what happens to its trainer?)

Marnie’s eyes meet Bede’s.

“Well?” he asks, his lip curled into a sneer. “I know you, Challenger Nine-six-zero. You’re the little sister of Spikemuth’s gym leader, right? Your city wants you to become champion so you can bring some glory back. But you’ll never make it to Wyndon.”

“How dare you say that to our Ma—”

Bede’s sneer gets bigger. “You depend too much on your brother’s screaming gang. He’s not going to be able to baby you forever. Can you even speak for yourself? I don’t think you can.”

It’s so easy to be talked over and shouted down.

She turns to her fans. “Let him go.”

“Let him —?”

In the moment of surprise, Bede wrenches himself from the grunt’s hold. He hops back, arms up, hands loosely curled into fists.

“I don’ know what yer problem is,” Marnie says, as loudly as she can, “but it’s not my trouble to deal with! I don’ wanna hear another word from you! Get!”

Bede huffs.

Then he and Copperajah continue on their path.

When they’re out of eyesight, Marnie turns to her fans.

Something must be wrong with her expression, because the grunts look scared.

“Marnie…?”

“Tell Piers that I don’ need ‘im ta baby me anymore!”

She turns on her heel and stomps on, alone.

*

When Marnie sets up camp for the night, she thinks about her rivals.

At the opening ceremony, there had been — what, twenty?

Right now, she can only remember three.

Whatever Bede is getting up to, it can’t be good. (She hopes his Copperajah eats him.)

Hop has been nowhere in sight. It’s unusual and worrying. She hopes the pressure isn’t getting to him.

And Gloria...

Gloria is lucky. Her town is already prospering, because it has already produced a champion.

She has no older siblings to overshadow her; she has never had to feel empty when they’re distant, or smothered when they make their presence known.

Gloria doesn’t even have to worry about representing her sponsor. Everyone’s expectations of Leon are placed squarely on Hop’s shoulders.

Gloria has the privilege of fighting for herself.

Marnie envies her.

She curls up in her sleeping bag and thinks, who am I really fighting for?

*

She fights for Spikemuth.

Her city has fallen into hard times, and it feels like everyone back home is expecting her to bring new life back to it.

(Dirty accent, dirty clothes.)

She fights for Piers.

Her brother wants her to take over the gym. Her brother gave her her first Pokémon and everything he’s done since has always come back to the damn gym.

(“I want to focus on my music.”

Marnie still can’t sing.)

She fights for herself.

...and she fights for Morpeko.

Morpeko needs her. She has caught other Pokémon, yes, and they all depend on each other, but Morpeko is her partner. She understands him the most. She understands his moods, his wants, his thoughts and feelings.

She knows what it’s like to hunger. She’s faced the pain of an empty belly and the anguish of an unrealized goal, and she finds them equal.

Morpeko is a right little brute when he’s hangry, though.

*

Of course, Team Yell is causing trouble. Did Piers tell them to close the gate? It would be consistent.

She shows Gloria the way into Spikemuth. Maybe another challenger would let her competitor struggle (and Marnie does, indeed, let the others struggle), but Gloria is her rival. Rivals help each other, right?

Gloria, of course, passes through the gym without any trouble at all. She powers past all the obstructions, never showing the slightest hint of frustration.

And then she comes to Piers.

Marnie is watching from the sidelines. She studies Gloria’s face, looking for any indication of what she’s thinking.

For some reason, Marnie really wants her brother to make a good impression on Gloria. To represent what’s good about Spikemuth, to make it so Marnie looks good as a result.

(Dirty accent. Dirty city. Dirty, tired man at the center of it all.)

Piers goes all out, giving his best performance.

Gloria hops in joy when she wins.

*

After Gloria leaves, Piers looks to Marnie and asks, “Are ya okay? The trainers told me you’ve been actin’ differently lately.”

“It’s nuthin’. Just getting a bit tired.”

“Do you wanna rest here tonight? You don’t have to continue —”

“No!”

She says it a bit louder than intended. Piers looks at her in surprise.

Marnie clears her throat and tries again: “I need to keep up wi’ my rivals. One of us is goin’ ta be facing Leon. I want it to be me.”

Her brother looks at her with those tired eyes.

(Is she a bad sister, looking for a way to escape his burdens?)

“Well. Kick Leon’s arse for me, ya hear?” Piers kicks up his microphone and tucks it under his arm. “And when you get bored a’ bein’ champion, Spikemuth Stadium will be waiting for ya.”

I don’t want to be your encore, she thinks, but keeps quiet.

She tugs on the pendant connected to her collar. Beside her, Piers does the same.

*

Hammerlocke Stadium is cold.

Gloria had her match here two days ago, Hop the day after that. Bede would probably have gotten here before either of them, but —

Somewhere along the line, Bede got disqualified.

She wonders if the same thing could have happened to her. If the Chairman or the Champion decided that her fans were being too disruptive, could they have her sent away, too?

Her brother is strong, but his power has limits.

“Hey, kid!” Raihan says. His grin is full of sharp teeth. “You ready to battle me?”

She nods.

*

“You’re not like your brother,” Hop says.

They’re in the Wyndon Stadium locker room, waiting for the semifinals to start. Hop and Gloria had walked in together but quickly split apart, going to opposite sides of the room.

Hop decided to sit next to Marnie. She’ll take it as a compliment.

“I mean, your brother’s cool and all!” Hop continues, “But I’ve been watching your battles. Your battle style is totally different from his!”

It is. Piers can’t keep his cool, can’t stop shouting out his strategy in the middle of a match.

And Marnie…

Marnie stays quiet. That’s her advantage.

“Thank you. For what it’s worth… yer style is pretty distinct from Leon’s, too.”

He smiles and leans back. “Thanks.”

The minutes tick by. The anticipation is almost unbearable.

Hop says, “I’ve been thinking… after the cup, what do you think you’re going to do? If you don’t become champion, I mean.”

If you don’t become champion. A nice way of saying if we battle, I’m going to win.

Marnie herself has no intention of losing, but… well, everything’s a possibility.

“Piers wants me ta take over the gym. He wants ta follow his own dreams.”

“Do you want to take over the gym?”

Do you want to be your big brother’s encore?

Marnie thinks about the Spikemuth Stadium. Neon lights. Punk trainers. Dandelions growing through cracks in the concrete.

Despite everything, it’s her home.

If she can’t take Leon’s throne… she wouldn’t mind sharing Piers’ stage.

His songs. Her battles.

I’m not an encore, Marnie decides. Not a replay. Not a remix.

I’m a brand new song.

She says in answer, “I think I’d be happy there.”

*

When it comes time for her semifinal match, Marnie walks out on the pitch to the sound of roaring applause.

Gloria is waiting, plain as always, but she’s smiling that lovely smile.

(Oh, how Marnie wants that smile.)

The commentator announces them, putting them in boxes one last time. There’s Gloria, the trainer endorsed by the champion. There’s Marnie, endorsed by Spikemuth’s gym leader.

Marnie thinks of Piers: his prideful self-loathing, his harsh stage voice, his team of hooligans he’s sent to cheer for her.

She thinks of Spikemuth, the dark dirty town that has pinned all its hopes on her.

She thinks of her rival, standing before her.

She’s come too far to lose here.

[neko-kaiyo]

Snowgirl (Newsies OC Week 2019 #1)

Ummm, okay so I don’t actually write a whole lot, but yeah anyways, I’m using my OC Yoko, originally she a mistwolf and usually magical, but that does not apply and Kitsune was her sister, they come from a family of assassins who immigrated from Japan to New York, they were called the Hoshi Clan, and they were found out and any and all children or ones who were considered children were thrown into the refuge and treated horribly. Kitsune caught the flu and never recovered, she died in Yoko’s arms. Yoko was released a few days later. So that’s some background. Anyway, enjoy my shitty angst.

(also italics are character thoughts~)

Snowgirl

TW; Near Death, Hypothermia, Cursing(?) Mentioned Death of a Sibling, Someone gets punched in the face (non-graphic), some slightly suicidal thoughts (implied and vaguely said)

Yoko’s first winter since being released from the refuge wasn’t pleasant.

Everything ached, her bones, her head and her heart. Not only would this be her first winter out of the refuge, but this would also be her first winter without her sister, Kitsune. 

She had spent nearly her entire life in the refuge for something her family did, she had nowhere to go since everyone she loved was now in the dirt. Yoko shivered as the bitter wind slashed through her threadbare clothes, she was wandering the streets aimlessly. Eventually, she drifted into an alleyway, seeking shelter from the angry wind biting at her.

Maybe… she thought If I have no one… will it be okay if I go? Yoko looked up to the stars for an answer, finding them half-hidden by the evening light.

Her feet carried her down the alley and back finding the darkness in the shadows all too familiar and entrapping. Her heart was a weight in her chest, hopelessness fogged her soul.

She wandered. And wandered.

And finally… she gave up.

The snow was almost plush but still stiff and sharp under her collapsed body. Yoko knew she most likely was developing hypothermia and must’ve had frostbite on every bit of herself. Well, it was a little more than likely, the tips of her fingers were both white and blue, she figured the rest of her hand and arm was the same. And yet she still couldn’t muster up the determination or will to live. The strength to stand and move. Soon enough the ability to stay awake would be taken from her as well. 

The realization hit her that tonight she may die, but maybe she’d see Kitsune. Right, Stars? I know I came from somewhere bad, but I’ll still be able to see her once more…? The tears slipped past from her eyes, she thought her tear ducts would be too frozen to do that, but warm salty tears trailed down her face and she cried, not for the life she’d be losing but for the unknown. Crying made her tired, despite the creeping frost.

Soon… just a little bit longer before I can sleep...

At least… that’s what she thought.

Once again Jack had to go out and drag Race back into the warmth of the lodging house before he decided to take a hike over to Brooklyn. “It’s poker night!” or “I gotta bet on the races while I still can!” would be the idiot’s excuse, when everyone knew he wanted to see his lover, the one and only king of Brooklyn, Spot Conlon. 

“Racetrack Higgins, you’ve reached a peak of stupidity!” Jack exclaimed, nearly facepalming.

Said blond protested indignantly (even though Jack was somewhat correct). “Me? Noooo.” Race drawled sarcastically, then added in a deadpan. “Besides, wanting to see my boyfriend is stupid?” 

“No, hiking across the bridge from Manhattan to Brooklyn in several feet of snow is.” 

Race nodded slowly to Jack’s point. “Fair enough.”

Just as Jack was about to launch into something that may have been grumbling about the cold (and Race’s idiocy) he paused hearing something.

“Lose brain function?” Race asked. Jack sent him an unamused glare and shushed him.

He could hear labored, uneven breathing and crying. From his experience, that was never good. Jack glanced at Race momentarily before they set off toward the sound.

What they found was, to say the least; Frightening.

A young girl was lying half-buried in the snow, the light fall of snowflakes making piles as she made no move to brush them away. Her wild mess of golden curls was splayed out around her head like a halo framing her icy blue skin. She had the most vivid viridian green eyes that would sparkle in sunlight but were dull behind her fluttering eyelids.

“Dio mio.. (oh my god)” Race breathed, concerned for the snowgirl.

“Jesus, she’s gonna freeze! We’ve gotta get her to the Lodge!” Jack yelled, already pulling off his rather sad excuse for a jacket and scooping the girl into his arms, cradling her close to his chest, hopefully providing some form of heat. He used the jacket to shield her from the wind and onslaught of snow. 

Race ran ahead of Jack to give Mush a heads up that they practically had a human icicle. Meanwhile, the girl had started to murmur incoherently and was teetering on the edge of consciousness, Jack had heard that you needed people like this to stay awake, so he talked to her, telling, almost pleading for her to stay awake. So many kids would freeze to death on the streets, just falling asleep in an alley or on a doorstep and just never waking up again. And this girl wouldn’t be one of those kids if Jack had any say in it.

The minute Jack entered the lodge, girl in his arms, she was placed on a bunk and wrapped with as many blankets as they could spare (Jack was unwillingly trapped in the blanket burrito, but skin to skin contact would help so he dealt with it). Mush rubbed warmth back into the girl’s arms and neck and chest.

Little by little the color returned to the girl, a slight blush filled her cheeks from either the cold or heat and there was no purple in her lips anymore, only a soft pink. But… The girl didn’t wake up that night.

No one knew who she was but Jack and Race and others who had done time in that prison mislabeled “The Refuge”, saw the signs.

A group of newsies had convened in a conversation about “snowgirl” as Race and Romeo had dubbed her since no one knew her name. 

“Maybe she came from the refuge?” Jack wondered aloud.

Racer nodded grimly. “She got the scars for it..”

“That terrible..” Elmer murmured, looking back sadly at snowgirl (the nickname caught on). Crutchie nodded in agreement.

Romeo copied Elmer. “She’s pretty.”

“Romeo!” several of them groaned or chided, slapping him with their caps.

Eventually, they dispersed into their own bunks to settle in for the night. Mush and Jack took the responsibility of checking her throughout the night. There wasn’t much of a change other than a steady rise in her temperature.

Snowgirl was still unconscious by the time the morning bell rang and everyone started their day and got ready to carry the banner. Jack, being the leader and “responsible one” (for the most part) stayed back to look after her in case she woke up.

A few hours of the day passed. Jack came and went to check up on her, and at some point settled at her bedside to draw (Sante Fe and Crutchie). Movement startled him back to the real world and he saw the most vivid shade of green. Viridian.

The waking up and coming too was a bit chaotic, nothing that Jack couldn’t handle (he had no handle on the situation but somehow he made it through with only one punch in the face from a terrified girl).

Thankfully he got her to talk a bit. She told her story in bits and pieces, Jack understood that she’d need time to trust, but he welcomed her to a place where lost people could find a loving home with some minorly crazy brothers and sisters. 

As it turned out snowgirl had a name. Her name was Yoko. She was strange and it took a long time for her to open up, but she grew to love everyone, she was happier than she could ever believe. Some days she wished to meet Kitsune again, but that could wait, she hoped Kitsune wouldn’t mind waiting. Yoko talked to the stars every chance she got, she thanked them for looking after her sister and thanked them for leading her to the newsies. 

Tags:

can think of anyone else who would be interested cause it ne my first time doing this so uhhh

@tea-and-theater

[gingers-writing-blog]

New York Bound

Chapter 1

The story starts in April 1899.

Triggers: Mild Swearing, One Punch, Mention of Blood

New Words: /

Word Count: 2,819

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

"Come on guys! Wake up and get a move on! Those papers ain't gonna sell themselves!" I shout over the noise of the busy London streets below. It's only half-past seven but some people, like the blacksmiths, maids and landlords, have been up for at least an hour; and these lazy newsies are still asleep! It had been rainin' last night, so there were some puddles on the roads and pavements and the cold wind was blowin'. It blew a few stray paper bags from the shops down the street. It was only just light outside, but it's April, so what's new...

I hear a few people stirrin' from their sleep.

"Aye! Lucky! Ya should be up by now. I can't run this place all by myself!" I twist around from the window and call over to the girl that helps me run the Westminster Newsies. She's barely awake!

I saunter over to my boyfriends' bed and try and shake him awake. We both laugh as he waves his arms around blindly tryin' to shove me away.

"Come on Tommy! Get ya lazy arse up!" I shove him playfully, and he almost fell off the bed, but he grabbed onto my hand and pulled me, so I was lyin' next to him. He put his arm around me and I almost forgot about sellin' papers...

"Mornin'." He said quietly, while tracin' the outline of the small birthmark next to my left eye. He was really warm, and it was a nice change from the freezin' cold of the lodgin' house. His cute Aussie accent came through a lot in the mornin', and sometimes he would make it really thick and I would try and guess what the hell he was sayin'! Yeah, I love him with all my heart.

"Mornin'," I said back. We ended up starin' into each other's eyes. I love his eyes, amazin' deep brown; they were like the fancy chocolate that ya see in shop windows in the rich part of the city.

"For Christs' sake, get a room! So much for wake up and get a move on, ey' Cat!" Our little moment was interrupted by none other than Lucky. I turn my head around and see her pickin' up her dice that she always takes around with her, ya know, just in case she gets tied up in another gamblin' game...again...

"Right! This is payback for all the times I have to listen to ya and Smalls swoonin' over each other!" I reply, flashin' her a cocky grin.

'Scuse my manners, I should introduce myself. My name is Caitlin. Caitlin Barnes to be precise, but I go by Cat. I am 15 and I live in Westminster Borough, London. I am one of the two leaders of the Newsies here; the other leader is a girl called Lucky. Our lodgin' house is in Westminster City, which is quite near the borders of Lambeth and Camden; and it is a mess, I mean, there are clothes, shoes and caps everywhere! If ya borough rankin' was based on how tidy ya lodgin' house is, we would be right at the bottom!

The boroughs are ranked by one thing and one thing only. It's not how many people there are in ya borough and it's not how tidy ya Lodgin' House is. Thank god! It's by how much money ya make every month, and we make a fair amount. Mikey, the Polish kid, is the resident maths genius and he always adds up all our money every night.

Westminster is actually one of the smallest boroughs in London, but we all look after each other. Turf wars are a nightmare! Ya can usually tell which boroughs are run by boys because they are the quickest to get into fights; whereas the boroughs run by girls, like Camden, City and obviously here, are more diplomatic and don't want to get anyone killed! Although Angel's Bromley ain't on my list of allies...and that system ain't always correct.

We always think of the famous Spot Conlon and Jack Kelly when we need to defend ourselves. Sorry, I'm probably borin' ya with this, they probably don't know it, but they're famous over here!

There's a kid named Roger who was sent over here by his aunt in New York, he's from Brooklyn and he told us all about Spot Conlon, his borough leader, and Jack Kelly, the leader of a borough called Manhattan. He called them the best leaders their side of the pond!

Anyways, after we were rudely interrupted by my co-leader, Tommy Boy released me from his warm, tight hug, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and we both got out of his bed.

I walked away from him while he chatted to Albie, one of the few people who actually live with their parents, but he was doin' stuff, so they let him stay here for the night. Mikey was stuff.

Yeah...

I made it over to Elise and Adelaide's beds. Those girls came over from France, just like my father, but they don't speak any English.

Luckily, my father did. So, he taught me and my mother, I tried to learn, but I don't have the right head for it, my brain prefers English and reading things in English. I only know a few basic phrases. Seams knows French though. She's the only one who can talk to them with any certainty of what they're sayin'!

"Tres bien mesdames! Il est temps de porter la banniere!" I said to them I saw someone, Red I think, glance over at them. They're new and I don't think they knew what Seams said!

That means "Alright ladies! Time to carry the banner!" by the way! Meanin', time to get up and sell the papers before it's too late! It's pretty much the only phrase I know for sure.

I chatted for a bit with Chase and how he flirted with his girlfriend last night! I know that doesn't sound very interestin', but he was either drunk or just really tired, but when he asked if she was single, he cried! It was way funnier if ya was there...

The two of us laughed for a bit. He went red and smiled, embarrassed. I left him to get dressed and walked back to my bed, clappin' him on the back as I went! I weaved my way back to my bed and kissed Tommy as I passed him.

I got my clothes out of my bedside drawer and laid them out on my bed, pushin' my recently-finished book aside. I put my bra on backwards, then twisted it around under my shirt. I pulled the straps up and took my nightshirt off.

Tommy Boy looked up and blushed when he saw me. I saw him out of the corner of my eye and grinned back at him.

"Whattaya got for me today babe?"

"Alright! Uhhhh...try and guess what this means!" There's this thing Tommy and I do every mornin'. He tells me some Aussie slang and I have to guess what the hell he means, and then I say somethin' in French and he tries to guess what I mean.

I looked over at him from where I was changin' into my day clothes.

"What are daks?" He said, with a cute little smirk.

"Ya what?" I laughed. I had absolutely no idea what he meant by 'Daks'. I love this idiot!

"Y'know! Daks! Ya wearin' 'em right now!" I stood there, lookin' down at myself. I was standin' next to my bed in my bra and trousers.

"Does it mean trousers?" It sounded ridiculous! I bent down and grabbed my blue and off-white striped undershirt and pulled it on as he replied.

"Yup! Well done! Ya gettin' betta at guessin'! That was an easy one though..." He grinned at the last bit.

"Right," I decided I was gonna give him a hard one. I clapped my hands together, rubbed them together and stuck my tongue out a bit while I thought of my plan. "Got it! Journaux. Take a crack at that!"

I pulled my mother's old red and grey shirt on and laughed at the look of complete confusion on his face. It was adorable, and he started laughin' with me. I gave him some time to think while I did up the buttons and put my black waistcoat, socks and shoes on as fast as I could. I had to time this perfectly.

The laces of my brown work boots were still undone when I walked over to him, wrapped my arms around his neck and looked up at him. God, I hope I timed this right!

Ding! Ding! Ding! YES!!!

"It means newspapers!" I said as the distribution bell rang out! I kissed him quickly and left him to get dressed. He was still shirtless and had only managed to put his trousers, socks and shoes on! Whereas I was fully dressed if ya don't count my hat.

I grabbed my hat off the end of my bed and yelled out to my newsies.

"Come of guys! Carry the banner!" I yelled out to everyone. They went thunderin' down the stairs. Most of 'em went two at a time and I'm really surprised that someone doesn't die or get really hurt every day!

"Ey! CAT?" I heard someone yell from the doorway to the stairs. I turned around to see who it was.

"Yeah, Fletch?" That's Fletcher. No one really knows where he came from, but we soon found out that he's wicked strong. Like, unnaturally strong, we had a bit of a situation and we needed to clear the main room. Fletcher just came up and lifted up a chair, Patch was still sittin' on it! And he just lifted it up like it was nothin'! Boy, crutch and all!

"What day is it?" His head bobbed up and down as he jumped to see over the few remainin' people.

"Uhhh...Tuesday 25th." I said just as everyone else made it out the door and down the stairs, Fletcher nodded to me, turned and ran down the stairs. I turned back to Tommy and we chuckled a bit about his slightly strange question, but we shrugged it off soon enough.

Once everyone was out, it was just me and Tommy. I bent down and did my shoes up and put my hat on and let my hair hang down. It fell past my waist and there was so much of it, I could rarely fit all of it in my hat!

"C'mon! Ya nearly ready?" I wandered over to the door leadin' to the landin' and the stairs down to the ground floor. The dormitories of the 'Mayfair Lodging House' - and every other lodgin' house, for that matter - were on the 2nd floor. The middle floor had the kitchens, but we don't use that much, and the near-permanently locked storeroom.

The storerooms were only to be unlocked in an emergency, and only the leaders of the boroughs had the key. Now, I have a feelin' about what ya goin' to say...But Mayfair has two leaders!? That's definitely true, but if a borough has two leaders, the first to actually become leader gets the key.

And that would be me. I was made leader when I was 12 because of some emergency from the old leader, Note; then when I was 14, last year, I "promoted" Lucky to become my co-leader. I always keep the key on a long black ribbon around my neck and tucked into my bra. I even sleep with it on because Angel snuck in and almost stole it from my bedside table. From then on, I kept it on at all times. No one that lives in the Lodging House has seen the inside of it...I don't even know if it's ever been opened before and the many times I've looked under the door, all I could see was darkness and dust...

I stood there thinkin' and waitin' for Tommy to finish tyin' his shoelaces up and grab his hat before he ran over to me. I thought he would stop next to me like he did every other day...but I guess every other day we haven't been this late. So instead, he planted a quick kiss on my lips and bolted down the stairs!

"Race ya to the gates!" He called out.

"Hey! Ya got a head start!" I yelled after him, jumpin' down the stairs two at a time. He bolted out the door and closed it after him!

"Really!?" I said, laughin' under my breath. I opened the door quickly and then slammed it shut and ran after him.

Now, what he didn't take into account, was that I was one of the fastest runners in all of the Westminster Newsies, but he knew he was always faster. I guess he just wanted to let me win...for once!

We got to the Distribution Gates with about five seconds to spare before they locked up! The Jordan Brothers were just about to lock the gates when we got right up to them and I stuck my arm through the gap between the rapidly closin' iron gates.

"Oi! Dan! Joey! 100 each!" Tommy yelled. Dan opened the gates reluctantly.

"Why was you two late?" That was Mr Fink. He is a literal weasel. He's the Jordan Brother's uncle and he is the paper distributor for Westminster. Despite bein' a complete arsehole, he's a fat man, he always looks like he's got a permanent hangover and he has a face a potato would be proud of. But 'e can throw a hard punch...

He sneered at us as we walked up the slope to the hatch.

"None o' ya business, Fink." I retorted.

"It's Mister Fink to ya." He slammed his hand down of the countertop. 

He wanted money.

I slammed my 50 pence piece with just as much force as he slammed his hand down. The price of the papers is two for a penny. So, its 50 pence for 100 papers. Most of the time it's an alright price, but if it's cold, or windy, or rainin'...then not so much. Fuck it! It's England! It's like that most of the time! Our Septembers are usually pretty good though...

I laughed under my breath and took my papers once he put them on the countertop.

"What's so funny? Huh?" Dan Jordan grabbed onto my arm as I jumped down from the platform at the top of the slope; he was standin' near the raised platform, but on the floor instead of the ramp.

"Oh, nothin'!" I replied sarcastically, fakin' innocence.

"Don't believe ya!" His grip on my arm tightened.

"Get offa me, Dan." I gave him my death-stare, full of anger and hate. I wouldn't let him bully us. He didn't loosen his grip at all. I clenched my fist, preparin' for a fight. I wasn't scared to fight the Jordan Brothers! They might be a few years older than us, but I know Tommy and I can take 'em.

Then he said somethin' that would've scared me shitless a few years ago...

"The Foreman says hello." My stare wavered and I looked down for a second, before raisin' my head again and death-stared him again. I was tryin' to form a plan of attack that wouldn't end up in either or both of us endin' up dead in an alleyway in the East End.

By that time, Fink had given Tommy Boy his papers, and he managed to get behind Joey without gettin' punched. Tommy grabbed Dan's left shoulder with his right hand and tore him away from me, his hand comin' away from my arm.

Tommy threw him to the ground and punched him hard in the face. The punch drew blood and Joey looked even more pissed off than usual.

"Run Cat!" He yelled. I was lookin' around for Joey and Fink, but a massive stack of papers had fallen, or had been pushed, in front of the door they had to get through to get to us. Joey and Fink were swearin' at us through the barred window of the door.

"Run!" I looked back at Tommy and Dan. Dan had a small cut on his face and Tommy was sprintin' towards me, his 100 papers still under his left arm. I still had mine and he grabbed the arm that wasn't supportin' the papers and tugged me out of the distribution square.

I locked the gates and we ran away from them as fast as we could, down slippery streets and across rain-soaked roads, until we collapsed out of breath with laughter on the wet, cold grass of the Victoria Tower Gardens, near my sellin' spot; I swear I didn't plan it this time!

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A/N I really hope you enjoyed this first chapter! I’m looking forward to you reading the next ones! Please like and roblog. Have a perfect day!

[a-fight-we-have-to-win]

Newsies as Immigrants Headcanons (Part 2)

Part 1

Albert DaSilva

- Portuguese

- him and his dad came over from the Azores Islands

- his dad works as a whaler which means Albert doesn’t see him for months or years at a time, and really at this point Albert has given up on him returning

- all he has left of him is a whalebone necklace his dad carved for him, he never takes it off

- the name DaSilva is Portuguese in origin, it means “forest”

- he maintains a lot of superstitions passed down to him from his dad

- like, he once changed his selling spot because too many black birds had gathered there

- the first newsie he met after his dad left was Race, he introduced himself as Anthony and Albert took it as a sign that he should stay with the newsies because Saint Anthony is one of the patron saints of Portugal

- he says Jack has a natural talent for the evil eye and should really be careful where he points that sucker

- being an island child, he’s one of the few newsies who knows how to swim and will generally take it upon himself to teach the younger kids and Race because dammit Jack, someone has to make sure they don’t drown

- he pretends to not like kids, but absolutely no one believes him and all the little newsies love him

- they’re convinced he’s a pirate and will follow him around begging for stories, and you know just because he helped his dad take over a boat once doesn’t make him a pirate, but he’ll make up stories for them anyway

- he speaks Portuguese, French, and English

- he and Finch have figured out how to speak to each other in French despite the differences in the dialects

- he’s a secret poet, he scribbles poems in Portuguese on old newspapers and then shows them to no one. Ever. No one is allowed to know.

Spot Conlon

- Irish

- Conlon is a very Irish surname derived from Gaelic Ó Connalláin, meaning Dog-Lion or someone who’s very strong

- his story is a lot like Jack’s, except he and his family came from Dublin

- unlike Jack, he still has family left

- his mother is often sick and can’t work, so he helps provide for them

- he has a sister and a brother who work in a factory, they all look after their mother and the younger kids

- a rumor exists among the newsies that Spot spat on his father’s body at his wake and returns to his grave every year to make sure he’s still dead

- no one has worked up the courage to ask Spot if that’s true

- he and Jack can and will hold lengthy arguments in Gaelic

- they will also occasionally give each other shit for their respective city, poor Racetrack is sitting in the middle so very confused

- everyone but the Brooklyn newsies have trouble understanding him through his accent, it’s why he tends to keep his sentences short, loud, and to the point.

- he still goes to church with his family every Sunday, a closely guarded secret among Brooklyn newsies, no other borough would believe them anyway

- Brooklyn has story nights at the Lodge where Spot will tell different Irish myths, he’s like a walking anthology

- and he even acts them out, doing different voices, leaping around the Lodging House pretending to be Fionn mac Cumhaill or Cu Chulainn locked in battle

- another closely guarded Brooklyn secret

- he has befriended crows and ravens in every one of the boroughs, they sometimes follow him or land on his shoulders

- this makes everyone extremely uncomfortable, which Spot finds hilarious

Mush Meyers

- German Jewish

- he came over as a baby with his mother escaping persecution in Berlin

- she died when he was little, so he more or less grew up inside the Lodging House, raised by newsies

- the name Meyers comes from the Hebrew word “meir” meaning “one who shines”

- he doesn’t really know he’s Jewish, or at least doesn’t quite know what that means

- he has a Star of David necklace given to him by his mother, it’s his good luck charm, he has it wrapped around his wrist because the clasp is broken

- it’s Davey that notices the necklace and asks him about it, Mush just sort of shrugs

- cue Davey dragging Mush back to his house and depositing him in front of his parents, like, someone fill him in, please

- it’s one of the reasons he spends a lot of time in the Jacobs’ house, but it’s also because him and Les get on like a house on fire

- he becomes something like the third Jacobs’ brother

- I have a lot of feelings about Mush and Davey being best friends, okay, I blame 92sies

- Davey will go to him if he has questions about being a newsie and Mush will go to Davey if he has questions about being Jewish

- his mother left behind a box of letters written in Hebrew and Davey helps him go through and translate them

- he discovers he has an uncle in Manhattan, his mother had planned to live with him and his family

- he takes Davey with him when he goes to meet them for the first time, they are so happy to see him and poor Mush doesn’t quite know what to do with that

- he ends up with more folks than he knows what to do with, so he just unilaterally decides to extend them to the newsies

- that’s how the Meyers family became the unofficial newsie safe house

Elmer Kasprzak

- Polish

- he’s the only one I don’t have to guess or extrapolate because his broadway trading card states that he’s one of nine siblings in a Polish family

- the name Kasprzak, shared by Elmer’s original actor Evan Kasprzak, is decidedly Polish, but see the thing is, Polish last names don’t usually mean anything

- I know because I have one, sometimes they’ll correspond to the name of a town or son of insert-name-here, but that’s about it

- anyway, Elmer is the son of Polish immigrants, he and his two older sisters remember Poland, but the other six came afterward

- his parents both work in factories, one sister’s married, the other works the night shift at a hospital

- he speaks Polish, German, and English

- everything he does is for his family, he lives in the Lodging House to give his younger siblings more space, but he visits them everyday

- approximately thirty seconds into his and Davey’s first conversation they discover that they were born one town removed from each other

- he gets it into his head that means they’re family and more or less adopts Davey and Les into the Kasprzak clan, but to be fair he does that with the other newsies too

- the Kasprzaks hold a Christmas dinner at the Lodge every year for this very reason

- speaking of, he loves Christmas, he’s responsible for the scrawny little Christmas tree in the Lodge

- he’ll make little snowflakes out of newspapers and stick them to the windows, he always saves up to put candles in the windows, all the little newsies help him

- the little newsies adore him, by the way, and he does his best to look out for them

- he, Albert, and JoJo are the Babysitting Squad™

Benjamin “Buttons” Davenport

- British

- described by Spot Conlon himself as “the only good Brit,” Jack agrees with this sentiment, Buttons doesn’t know what to do with this information

- Davenport is a locational surname, in this case meaning he likely came from Cheshire, England, let’s say Liverpool specifically

- he’s is a fierce Scouser, absolutely no one can understand his accent at first

- his dad’s a sailor and long ago he decided it was safer to live in the Lodging House than with his mother, so he doesn’t really see his parents and he would prefer it to stay that way

- England doesn’t hold many good memories for him, so he’s quick to adopt American culture

- he adores baseball, the different neighborhoods will sometimes meet up for a game and, they might be playing with a ball of twine and a busted pipe, but this kid is all over it

- he’s an excellent pitcher, but you know street rules means playing all the positions

- once during a Manhattan vs Brooklyn game, he ran a grand slam against Brooklyn, knocking the ball all the way into the East river and earning Spot Conlon’s respect

- he can sew, his mother taught him how, and he actually enjoys doing it, plus it’s pretty useful

- he collects buttons for the express purpose of fixing newsies’ vests and he hoards as much thread as possible

- he knows. How to. Darn. Socks. Fight me. It’s true. The newsies’ll find him in the corner of the Lodge with a small collection of their socks just… humming along, darning socks

- he hates coffee and has often asked the nuns if they have any tea, they surprise him one today with some, he is over the moon

- the newsies sometimes refer to him as their Yank

- he once called Spot Conlon a redcoat to his face

JoJo de la Guerra

- Spanish

- Guerra is a Spanish surname that means “war”

- in JoJo’s broadway trading card it says that he was raised by the nuns

- I can imagine his likely religious Spanish parents leaving him on their doorstep with nothing but his name, Jorgelino Josephino de la Guerra

- and the nuns call him Joseph, they only use his full name if they’re angry with him

- but the first newsie he meets, Elmer, hears that name and thinks… JoJo it is then

- he grew up watching the newsies and helping the nuns take care of them and he just wants to be a part of them so badly

- it’s like having siblings, he thinks, he’s already got a dozen mothers, he might as well add siblings to his family

- so the nuns let him, they wave him off to work every morning with coffee and biscuit in hand, blessed six ways from Sunday

- at first, he’s textbook sheltered, but he adjusts very quickly and such language

- the nuns taught him Latin and Greek in addition to English

- when he moves into the Lodging House it mysteriously becomes 100% cleaner overnight and no one can figure out why until they stumble upon JoJo trying to clean the fire escape

- he’s just trained to keep things clean, including himself, but the more time he spends with the boys the less he does it

- someone points out that good things tend to happen with him around, so he’s quickly accepted as the resident good luck charm

- the newsies come up with the notion that any water touched by JoJo becomes holy water, he tries to protest the idea

- it’s become a habit to touch their glasses to JoJo’s forehead before they drink

Bonus:

Katherine Pulitzer

- Hungarian

- the historical Joseph Pulitzer was an immigrant from Hungary, he moved to America and married Katherine Davis, their youngest daughter, Katherine Ethel Pulitzer, died in infancy

- but in our case, she survived to become the Katherine Plumber we know and love

- she doesn’t know anything about her father’s origins because he refuses to talk about it, if he addresses her at all

[wine-anon]

can you do spot x reader where the reader goes with jack to tell spot ab the strike, and spot and the reader flirt back and forth, and it ends with spot asking her out for a date?

a/n: I haven’t had a Spot request for a while, nor have I written or him in a while. Thanks for the request! Tbh when writing this, I looked up a picture of Tommy Bracco to get his eye colour and such correct, but got caught staring at his eyes because they’re overly beautiful, wtf? Also, see if you can pick up on my Easter egg to one of my other writings.

Warning: my sucky flirting skills, seriously they’re awful, don’t flirt with me ever.

“Alright, who’ll take Brooklyn?” Jack’s question made everyone look in any direction but him, “c’mon, Brooklyn? Spot Conlon’s turf. Finch, you telling me your scared of turf?”

“I ain’t scared of no turf,” the boy shot up to protest but slowly sat down again, “but that Spot Conlon gets me all jittery.”

“I’ll take Brooklyn,” the newsies heads all snapped to you, where you sat in the back corner of Jacobi’s.

“You’ll take Brooklyn?” Mike asked a concerned look on his face.

“I mean, how bad can this Spot guy be?” 

Protests rung out across the diner before a girl, you soon found out to be named Katherine, ran in and told you all that she could get you all into the paper. It was finally decided that Jack, Davey and yourself would go to Brooklyn to talk to Spot Conlon, obviously Les went with you because Davey was adamant to not have him leave his side.

After lunch the four of you made started your trek across the Brooklyn Bridge. The journey was arduous and only worsened once you got into Brooklyn territory, you were watched from every street corner and alley by Spot’s birds. The feeling of being watched was unsettling as you reached the front doors of the Brooklyn Lodging House. 

Once inside, the four of you were escorted to their common area. You were told to sit and wait on a busted up couch in the centre of the room.

“This is all quite dramatic, ain’t it?” you said once you were alone. Jack mumbled something about Spot always doing this whilst Davey and Les nodded in agreeance. 

You waited in bated silence for five minutes before the door opened again. You raised your eyebrow at the two boys that entered the room. They took point on either side of the armchair across from you and the others. From the doorway another boy entered, he was considerably shorter than the two other boys but he was stocky and well-built. His shirt had no sleeves leaving his branch-like biceps on display. Now that you noticed, none of them had sleeves which was strange.

The boy sat down in the armchair and the door behind him was shut behind him. Now that you could see his face clearly, you were stuck by just how gorgeous he was. His hair was tucked neatly under his cap, as most newsies did, including you. You took in his face, his deep brown eyes drew you in and caught your breath in your throat, thick eyelashes framing them beautifully. His jaw could cut glass and his cheekbones could cut you if you were to touch them. A small smirk presented itself on his pink lips and you found yourself licking your own as you both stared at each other.

Jack coughed loudly which broke you out of your trance, you blushed when Jack raised his eyebrow at you and shook his head with a smile. The boy, who you assumed was Spot Conlon, turned to Jack after throwing you a quick wink.

“Why ya’ here, Jack” he asked, his accent was thick and his voice deep, you almost melted on the spot.

“We’s organising a strike,” Jack spoke with an authority that you’d never heard before, “and we want to know if Brooklyn is in?”

“And what is you striking against?” Spot had an air of power and command around him that you’d be honest, was really enticing.

“We’re striking against the papes,” Davey chimed in, though not as confidently as Jack, “we want fairness. The papes price has risen and that’s not okay, we’re not going to be walked over by Pulitzer.”

“That’s great, kid,” Spot stared down Davey, like a lion would watch it’s prey. Waiting for a break of confidence. 

Nervously, Les gripped your hand from his seat next to you. You held his shaking hand tightly and comforted him as best as you could.

“So what do ya’ want from me?” Spot looked at your hand that was intertwined with Les’ instead of the other boys which made you slightly nervous.

“We want you to support us so that we can get backed by the other newsies around New York,” Jack said, pulling Spot’s attention back to him.

“How do I know that you won’t bounce at the first sign of trouble?” the question caught the two boys off-guard, so you decided to intervene.

“Because we’re fighting for a good cause, and we ain’t backing down,” Spot looked you in the face and smirked once again.

“Is that so,” he spoke with amusement and intrigue, “and what is your name, beautiful?”

“(y/n),” you decided to not waste any time, he was cute and flirting with you, so what could go wrong?

“Gorgeous name for a gorgeous person,” the grin on his face grew.

“Why thank you, handsome,” he seemed pleased with the name and so you knew you’d found your in, “did you lift something heavy before you walked in here? Your arms look so strong.”

“You think so?” you were surprised that your flirting was actually working, usually it was abysmal, at least that’s what Romeo and Race would always say.

“I’ll be honest, beautiful,” he continued, “when I first walked in here, I was pretty wary. But afta’ seeing your face, I thought I walked into a museum.”

“How’s that?” you were genuinely curious as to where this line was going.

“‘Cause you are a masterpiece to look at,” his words caught you off-guard and you blushed deep red.

“I could say the same about you,” that was all you could get out, he was intimidatingly handsome.

“Think I could take you out sometime?” another thing that shocked you. He wanted to take you out, on an actual date. Your heartbeat sped up and you smiled sweetly at him. 

Unbeknownst to you, Spot was nervous beyond belief. The King of Brooklyn rarely got nervous, but you were beautiful, radiant and down-right spectacular to look at. He didn’t want to mess this up, he genuinely wanted to get to know you. The way you talked made his heart race and when you smiled at him, he felt like he was going to faint.

“I’d love to,” your response shocked everyone in the room, the boys by your side looked at you with wide eyes, “maybe after you help us win this strike.”

“You drive a hard bargain, sugar,” Spot wanted to help you and come at your beckon-call but he knew he couldn’t logistically do that, “if you can show me that you won’t crumble at the sight of trouble, then and only then, will I support you. But I need to see that you mean it.”

Jack clenched his fist but agreed to the terms, whilst you and Les sat in silence.  Jack and Davey spoke in hushed tones to the side and Spot simply stared at you, without a care.

“Thank you or seeing us, Spot,” Jack said as he stood from the couch. Davey and Les following his lead in shaking Spot’s hand and heading to the door to be escorted back out to the street.

You sat still for a moment before getting to your feet and looking Spot in the eye. You had no clue what to say. You’d never felt this strongly about someone in a positive way before, you didn’t even know what to do. You nervously stuck your hand to shake his. He gripped your hand and shook it gently, you both stared into each other’s eyes before you coughed and pulled away awkwardly.

“Look, (y/n),” he spoke quietly and with far less confidence than before, “I wish I could help you guys, but you need to understand that it’s not what’s best for my newsies.”

“I know, Spot,” you reassured him with a small smile, “I get it, you gotta look out for these kids and I gotta look out for mine. You better be ready for that date though, because I promise you that we will win this.”

“I hold you to that, sugar,” he winked and you walked past him towards the door.

“See ya’ round, Spot,” with that you walked out of the room to find your friends. 

“See ya’, (y/n),” he spoke to thin air long after you were gone.

“What about Brooklyn?”

“I’d say they were definitely impressed,” Jack replied, “don’t you think Davey?”“Oh, definitely,” Davey spoke whilst both of them eyed you off to the side. You replied with a shrug.

“What can I say? Spot loved what we had to say,” you spoke with a smirk.

[broadwaytrash101]

You’se a scabber now! (Race x reader)

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist for more cool post! Request are open!! 

Description: Your family becomes rich and Race is scared that he is going to lose you

“Hey (Y/N) wake up” You groaned as you heard your older brother’s voice

“Go away,” you said groaning slightly “I’m sleepy”

“Dad said he wanted us to meet him in his office today, so you need to get up” your brother let the family butler in your room, so she could pick out your outfit for the day. You sat up yawning loudly and stretching your arms above your head.

“You don’t have to do that Alexandra I can pick my outfit myself,” you said quickly ushering your brother and butler out of your room. “I’ll be ready in 10 minutes” you quickly shut your door. You quickly pick out a dress and slipped it on.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this feeling” you whispered to your self as you brushed your hair.

You weren’t always rich. Your family was quite poor. Your father always wanted to be a pharmacist and make new types of medicine, but with no funding, he couldn’t get the material he needed. Since he couldn’t provide for his family he had to pull your brother and you out of school so you could get jobs. You were only 12 when you got a job as a newsie. You had to admit being a newsie for 4 years was fun, but you always wanted an education and when your dad invented a ground-breaking disinfecting a huge pharmaceutical company hired him and now he makes enough money that you could buy yourself a school.  Even though you could get whatever you wanted you still missed your newsies. They made such an incredible impact in your life and you couldn’t ask for better friends. Especially a certain cigar smoking newsie. Your heart started to speed up just thinking about him.

Race was certainly the newsies that had the greatest impact on you. The first day you arrived to get your papes he was the one that quickly jumped at the opportunity to teach you everything he knew. Without him, you wouldn’t have been able to sell a single pape. He was also the one to cheer you up whenever you were down, and he was always there for you no matter what time of day it was. You showed up at the lodging house once at 3am since you couldn’t sleep because of your parents fighting and he didn’t even bat an eye. He just moved over and let you rest beside him as you ranted to him. He never made you feel uncomfortable and was always the first one to soak anyone who would look at you funny or talk to you in an inappropriate manner. It also didn’t help that you had the hugest crush on the young gambler.

But now you barely ever see him. You’ve been concentrating hard on your schooling. You had a tutor come over to your house to help you catch up. You would work around 9 hours or sometimes even 10 hours a day.

“You almost ready in there? Dad is going to get angry if we show up to late” your older brother said while he banged on your door. You rolled your eyes an opened your door.

“I was barely even 10 minutes” you replied

“Let’s go,” he said while locking his arm with yours leading you outside.

“Can we buy a pape before meeting with dad?” you pleaded with your brother.

“Don’t talk like that” he scowled “You know dad would get mad if he heard you talking like that, especially if it was in front of his new friends.”

“It’s just a word, no need to get mad” you pouted back.

“We have to prove to everyone that we aren’t street rats (Y/N) and it’ll be hard to do that if you keep acting like one” your brother started to sound like your tutor.

“Okay then, can we get a paper then,” you said putting emphasis on the word paper.

“Of course father would probably want to read one as well” you smiled brightly and started leading your brother to your old selling spot.  You knew Race would be there and you couldn’t resist the urge to see that handsome face of his.

As you rounded the corner you could hear Race voice as he shouted headlines that were clearly made up. You waved at Spec and Albert who was a crossed the road just hanging around. They must have already finished selling all their papes.

“One paper please,” your brother said when you reached Race

“Make that two papes please!” your brother’s face scowled as soon as you said ‘papes’ but you couldn’t bring it to care.

Your heart started to pound when Race turned to face you and your brother. He’s as breathtaking as always and you could still detect that faint smell of cigar.

“(Y/N)? is that you?” Race asked surprise, I guess he never really saw you in proper clothing before. Hopefully, he liked it.

“It’s been a while,” you said smiling brightly. Race only nodded as he raised a brow looking at your brother. He seemed mad?

“Here,” you said handing Race 3$ “Keep the change” Race only nodded and handed you the papes not taking his eyes off your brother.

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to hang out? I know it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, and I really want to catch up. Do you want to meet up at that cute bakery we use to always go to? We could meet up at 6?” you asked

“I’se love to” Race said while he placed his cigar in his mouth “Now’s scram I’se need to finish selling,” he said coldly.

“Um okay see you later”

 *Race POV*

“I’se couldn’t believe me eyes, (Y/N) is a scabber!” Specs said loudly

“And did you’se see the boy she’s with now! I’se couldn’t believe it!” Albert continued. “And she thunk that she could just waltz back into our lives after leaving us”

“Shut up” I basically growled out. Spec and Albert just rolled their eyes.

“You’se only defending her since you’se want her to be your goil” Albert said

“We should be happy for her” I said “She’s probably just busy now and she’s no scabber”

“Sure, but remember she’s rich now, one day she ain’t going to even remember you’se name” Spec warned. I just rolled my eyes and started walking out of the lodging house. I was already late. As I walked towards the bakery I couldn’t help but let Specs’ words bug him. He was right. She’s no longer poor and she’s got herself a man that could provide for her for the rest of her life. She doesn’t need me anymore.

 *Y/N POV*

 You sighed as you sipped your tea. He was late, an hour late to be more specific. He did seem mad earlier. He probably hated you now. Just as you were giving up hope the little bell rang meaning someone was walking into the bakery. Your eyes lit up when you saw Race walk in with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Race you made it! I thought you weren’t coming!” you said as you stood up to hug him. He quickly moved over before you could touch him making you frown but decided to just drop it. “I got you a muffin and a cup of coffee, but the coffee is probably cold by now”

“You’se change (Y/N)” Race simply state

“What?” you asked surprised

“I’se said you’se changed. I’se only came here to tell you that we’se can’t be friends anymore” you were shocked. As you simply stood there not knowing what to say Race made his way out of the bakery. Quickly getting back to reality you grabbed your purse and followed Race out the door.

“What the actual hell Anthony,” you said as you grabbed Race’s arm. He stiffened when you said his name “I’m sorry that I haven’t been around much. But I’ve been busy with school! I missed 4 years of it and I’m trying to catch up! I thought you’d be happy for me! You know that I’ve always wanted to go to school. You never got mad when Davey left us to go back”

“I’se don’t care about Davey! And he didn’t change! He still comes to visit! He’s not a scabber” Race said angrily making you tear up.

“I am not a scabber” you said offended

“You’se a scabber! You’se got a scabber life now! You’se don’t need us street rats around anymore!”

“I never thought of you guys as street rats and you know it! I can’t believe you!”

“Whatever doll go back and cry to your boyfriend” Race mumbled angrily as he turned around about to walk away.

“Boyfriend?” You asked confused making Race roll his eyes.

“Don’t act dumb with me, I’se saw you’se with him this morning!” Race said while he glared down at you.

But when you really looked into his eyes you saw it. You’d recognize that look anymore. Race wasn’t mad at you. He was scared, and you could tell he was infected with the green monster of envy. You’ve had your fair share of the monster since you’d always feel like punching every girl that Race would flirt with while he sold his papes.

Not even thinking twice you grabbed Race’s collar and pulled him down connecting your lips with his. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears when you didn’t feel Race kissing back. Was this the right choice? Where you even right? Was it jalousie that you saw?

You were about to pull away, but Race wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flushed against him deepening the kiss. You couldn’t help but gasps as you felt his soft lips move against yours deeply. That just gave Race the opportunity to slip his tongue in making you moan softly as you ran your fingers throw his hair tugging lightly. As you tugged on his hair Race groaned pushing you against the nearest ally wall. His taste was intoxicating. He tasted slightly like cigar and you wanted more.

Sadly, you needed to breathe so both of you slowly separated. Both of you breathing heavily but none of you showing signs of separating.

As you run your fingers through his hair you couldn’t help but smile.

“That was my brother” Race looked at you confused.

“What?”

“The ‘scabber’ I was with earlier” you started “He’s my brother”

“Fuck, I was glaring at him the entire time, he probably thinks I’se want to fight him” He groaned as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“Well you kinda did” you stated

“I’se thought he was your boyfriend!” you only giggled as you lifted his head connecting your lips to his once more.

[the-supporting-character]

Slow Summer Days (Jack Kelly x Reader)

Jack Kelly, they/them

A/N: A Brooklyn newsie has an interesting run-in….

-

It was midday at the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge, where groups of travelers passed every few minutes and a single newsie waved around a newspaper in the face of anyone who got close enough.

You were shouting out about some random story, nothing good in comparison to the rest of the week, and the people just weren’t buying it. You felt the sweat start to pool around the collar of your shirt but continued to walk quickly back and forth between anyone who decided to cross the bridge. It was tough work, but if you had to make a livin’ you’d prefer it to be exploring the streets than trapped in a stuffy building.

At a break in the crowd of travelers, you looked down into your bag and pulled out your papers, trying to count how many you have left.

“Six, seven, eight- hate these headlines.” You were about to put them back in your bag when someone ran into you, full force.

“Hey! Whatcha ya self-pal!” But it was too late. Your papes fly out of your hands onto the dirty street. You fell to your knees to grab the loose papers and stop them from brushing against the ground. Your hands were in a frenzy to grab each page before they touched the sidewalk, no one wants to buy a dirty pape. Still snatching at the papers, you didn’t notice that the fellow had turned around. You were gathering them and quickly shoving them back into your bag when another hand started to grab at the loose papers on the sidewalk.

“Get ya own papes.” You nearly growled at the stranger who looked up in surprise.

“What, ya don’t want ma help? I guess I could just let these go and…”

“No! No, just gimme ‘em.” You quickly replied in fear that he would actually do it, but when you looked up he had stuck out the papes to you and found a large grin on the face of the boy who “helped” you. After a second you both realized you’re both still kneeling on the ground. He was the first to stand up and brush off his pants, not that this action counted form much; his pants looked worn by years of dirt and other stains. He held out a hand to help you up.

“Jack Kelly’s the name.”  You accepted and he pulled you to your feet. With a little more strength than anticipated, you fell forward until you were almost touching. You took a step back, and despite the glaring heat, felt a blush start to rise to your cheeks.

“Great. I didn’t ask.” You placed your hands on your hips and gave him a good glare, secretly trying to combat the rush of heat to your face. This kid had the looks and believed he had charm, but you were used to that, having spent your fair amount of time with the other newsies who used every possible trick to get another customer.

“Ouch, I’m crushed!” He threw his hands to his chest in mock pain. He looked back to you with your hands still on your hips and tried something else.

“Maybe ya ‘ave heard of me. I’m quite renowned.” He gave a small grin and leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. It was true, you had heard of Kelly before and you couldn’t say you were surprised, given what the other Brooklyn newsies said about him.

“Well ain’t that a dollar word.” You leaned in a little and mimicked his stance. Two could play this game.

“Mmhmm.” He bit his lip and took one more step. You did the same until there was about a half a foot of space between you. At this distance, you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes and as he tried to make a move forward, you quickly stepped around him causing him to lose balance. Despite successfully throwing him off, you felt your heart flutter by his flirtations.

“Ya should watch where ya goin’, Jack Kelly. Ya neva know who yous goin’ run into in Brooklyn.” You grinned as he tried to resume his stance from before and awkwardly moved around to face you again.

“And who exactly did I run into?” He smirks and leans in again. This boy just didn’t learn. You hesitated, but ultimately shifted your bag to the side and stuck out a hand.

“(Y/N). Brooklyn newsie.” He took your hand and shook it, while simultaneously pulling you closer. Apparently, he didn’t mind that you were from Brooklyn, or maybe was too stupid to realize the full force of Spot Conlon’s gang if he were to mess with any of his newsies.

“It was a pleasure, but I gotta go.” He stared into your eyes and you could feel the blush rise again. He stayed there for a moment, before turning back to the way that he came.

“I’ll see ya around, sweetheart. I’m shore I will, I can neva resist a pretty face.” And with a wink left, that last comment leaving you with a tinge of pink on your cheeks and a genuine smile on your face. Oh, you did hope you got to see that boy again.

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Bookworm Race x Reader

Summary: While you're trying to read and walk at the same time, you bump into a newsie who you wouldn't peg as the bookworm type.

Word count: 1.7k

Author's note: this is my first newsie x reader so sorry if it's pretty trash. I'm taking requests though so if you would like to request something, only newsies for now, I'd be happy to hear it!

warning: Nothing really except I do spoil the ending on A Tale of Two Cities so if you are currently reading that book or plan to in the near future, I suggest you don't read this but it's just a fair warning!

"Sadly, sadly, the sun rose, it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away."

You flipped over to the next page, feeling your heart ache for poor old Sydney Carton as you made your way through the busy town. Sounds were coming from every direction, the shouts of the newsboys, the horns blaring from the street, but all those noises were somehow fading away as you sunk deeper and deeper into the emotional pit known as Tale of Two Cities.

People pushed past you, not enough to knock you off your feet or for you to pry your eyes away from the words on the page. You mutter a soft sorry as you continue to make your way down the sidewalk.

Manhattan in October was your favorite month to stroll the streets, the blazing heat from summer was finally over and it wasn't too cold to the point of discomfort. The walk from the bookstore to your home was insanely long by foot but you didn't care about the blisters on your feet, all you cared about was the book in your hands, this story forming in front of you with your own eyes, something more entertaining than the world around you.

"It was a cool spot, staid but cheerful, a wonderful place for echoes, and a very harbour from the raging streets. There ought to have-"

You make contact with something, someone, as you stumble back and the book falls from your hands and onto the stone sidewalk. You and the victim you bumped into start stammering a few words.

"Sorry! I wasn't-"

"Crap I'm sorry doll-"

"No it's fine I-"

"Here let me-"

You bend down to pick up your book but the young man you bumped into is already picking it up and taking a look at the cover. You take in his appearance as he reads the back of the book, a cigar hanging between his teeth while a smirk plays on his lips. He catches you staring at him as you clear your throat and play with your fingers.

Boy was he attractive. He was a newsboy, that or he carried around newspapers in a cloth bag just for fun and dressed like one because why not. The boys at school never caught your attention, all of your love was towards Charles Dickens, Emily Bronte, and occasionally Shakespeare when you were feeling angsty but this boy. Ohhhhhh this boy was a sight for sore eyes.

"Thanks I uh wasn't paying attention," You admit as you point over to the book that caused you to bump into the cute stranger.

"I get it, lots a' distractions out heres," The boy winks as I take in his very thick, almost fake sounding Manhattan accent.

The wink causes your ears and cheeks to go red but you try, key word try, to brush it off," Y-Yeah lots of distractions. Sorry but... could I possibly get my book back?"

The newsboy lets out a small laugh and nods, handing it over to you," Do yous have a name? I wanna tell my friends about bumping into this smart, beautiful goirl on the street today and a name would be nice."

You blush but again try not to let his words affect you," You assume I'm smart just cause I'm reading a book?"

"No moron woulds be able to get almost halfway through a Dicken's novel. Either yous like the love triangle between Darnay, Carton and Lucie or yous enjoy all the death and destruction."

You're slightly taken aback by his comment since he couldn't have known who the characters are without reading at least a part of the book. Most newsies knew how to read a bit but since Dicken's was kind of a...well... dick about using pretty big words and complicated sentences, it was unlikely that even an average people knew what he was saying.

"You've read this book?"

"My uh friend, he's a big nerd, always reads out loud whenever he can. It's a good book though, says a lot since I hate reading," the boy extends his hand out for me to shake," My friends call me Race."

You shake his hand," Y/N. Nice to meet you."

Race repeats your name and you secretly love the way it sounds with his voice. You try to stall as long as possible so you can keep talking with him but you know you have to go home soon because a) you know your mom is freaking out because of your absence and b) you're starting to get a little anxious because you want to get home as quickly as possible to finish the book.

You rummage in your bag for a dime and hand it to him," One pape please."

Race shakes his head and hands you a newspaper," No please, it's on the house."

You give him a genuine smile, sweet, charming, and good looking? I must be dreaming since all the boys I know are pigs.

"No, after all I've done today, it's the least I can do."

You slip the dime into his shirt pocket and you take the paper from his hands and read the headline, Trolley Strike comes to a Second Week.

"It's boring I know, but maybe yous can come back here tomorrow and I'll give ya a better headline," Race flirts, his lips turning into a small smirk.

Tomorrow you had school but you knew sparing a few minutes during lunch to come down here would be totally worth it as long as you got to see the cute newsboy again.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, until next time Race."

--------------

You stroll, oh no. Maybe the word stroll seems too happy, you stomped down the street, gripping A Tale Of Two Cities in between your hands, your knuckles almost turning white and your tears are still fresh on your cheeks.

You take your usual route to buy Race's paper, something you've been doing for the past week or so but today was different. Today Charles freakin Dickens ripped your heart out, stomped on it, and stuck it in a guilloutine.

Every day you would visit Race and talk about what part you were on in the book and you both shared an intense love for Carton, a character who deserved so much more in life. Since you two bonded so quickly over the course of a few days, it was no surprise that you had caught feelings for the newsie with a smoke and aftershave smell lingering on his body who also was the biggest dork in the entire city.

It felt stupid, how quickly you fell head over heels for this boy who saw you as just another customer, but being alone with him, sharing embarrassing stories and how much the two of you hated Oscar Delancey, a man who was very close with your father made you realize that you two had more in common than you thought.

You can hear Race's voice, calling out a headline about the yet again, boring trolley strike that just reached week number three and he stops midway when he catches sight of you, looking quite miserable.

Race's friend Davey had read the book to him before, so Race knew exactly why you were so upset and that you were about to go off on a huge rant.

"How could he do that? Seriously? What kind of sicko just kills off a character as pure as Carton and-and his last thoughts were of Luice like- my heart can't handle this emotional distress I-I think you have to take me to a hospital because my heart feels like it's going to explode and not in the good way! I was rooting for Lucie and Carton what kind of bullsh-"

Race places one hand on your cheek and the other on your waist and before you can say anything, he leans in as you two share a long, but innocent kiss.

He pulls apart first as a huge grin dances on his lips and says in a teasing tone," Sorry, what was yous sayin?"

Your mouth is partly open, due to the shock of the kiss and how nonchalant that boy was being. A part of you was slightly annoyed that he just kissed you in the middle of your rant but all the anger and sadness you had just experienced while finishing the book suddenly washed away.

"Y-You can't do that! I was trying...." you lose your train of thought and sigh in desperation, giving up. Now you were just confused and when you were confused, you needed answers as soon as possible before your brain would go wild," what was that for?"

"Sorry but- Yous cute when yous angry and I know yous upset about the book but just know that-"

You pull on the collar of his shirt and kiss him again, not wanting to hear the "oh it's just a book speech" you had received from your fellow classmates and you could've sworn you heard him let out a small gasp before crashing your lips onto his.

You pull away and you two share the same goofy smile.

"What was that for?" He asks as you give him a small shrug.

" Just felt like it...anyway here's a dime, I would love to hear about this boring ol trolley strike again."

Race wraps his hand around your waist and places a kiss on your cheek," Who knows doll, maybe somethin interstin is gonna happen soon that'll make headlines."

[ostrich-on-a-rampage-blog]

Crutchie, Cursed: Chapter 1

So, here’s the first chapter of an Ella Enchanted AU that I accidentally fell in love with. A couple people seemed interested, so here’s the start of it. Basically, what happened is I started rewatching that movie last night and kept thinking how Newsies characters could fit in here. And then I texted my roommate and she just said, “Go for it, Ostrich.” I went for it. 

Also, as a side note, I have read the book, but back when I was in elementary school or junior high, so I have no memory of it. In other words, this will mostly be based around the movie. Which, also means that there will be some movie quotes in here because some of that dialogue is just too perfect to neglect. Plus, I have changed a couple of the scenes, settings, etc. It will all make sense, trust me. Do tell me how you like it, though! Reblogs and comments will encourage me to finish the next chapter sooner!

It wasn’t as if Crutchie hated his life. No, that wouldn’t be fair to say. There were lots of aspects of his life that he absolutely loved. His godmother, Medda, for one. His best friend, Katherine, of course. The fact that he was passing all his community college classes and had even managed to be recognized in his speech and debate class—although that was probably due to all of Katherine’s help—were definite pluses. Really, everything made his life just fine, all added together.

“Hey, crip! Get down here!”

Except, no, his life was not all that great, despite the smiles he faked. Years ago, Crutchie’s father died and his mother, a rather forgetful, hapless woman, never seemed to truly understand the impact of his death on her son. Sure, she had held him close and promised that everything would be okay. Crutchie wondered if she ever meant the promise, or if it had just been something nice to say to her hurting son. Only a couple months ago, she had remarried to a small, shriveled man by the name of Wiesel. She had explained that he had the money that their family needed, and, as much as Crutchie appreciated the full cupboards and the warm, plentiful meals, he almost wished they could go back to the time when he had gone to bed hungry, but had been happy. When it was just the two of them. Or, rather, when it was the three of them, and Crutchie had never foreseen the dark storms and heavy grief ahead of him.

“Move slower, ya stupid crip, I dare you!”

Wiesel had brought his two sons along with him: Oscar and Morris. While Morris tended to be quiet and brood in the corner of the room, a small black book in hand—Crutchie suspected it to be a collection of Poe’s poems, after he heard Morris mutter something about a sepulchre by the sea—and a quick frown for Crutchie whenever he entered the room, Oscar was more vocal with his dislike towards his new stepbrother. Both stepbrothers looked remarkably similar. They had dark brown hair and sported twin sneers, especially whenever Crutchie was present.

“I’m coming,” Crutchie said, trying to force his suddenly leaden limbs to move faster.

That was the other problem. Upon his birth, a benevolent—though, Crutchie wasn’t sure he quite agreed with that terminology—fairy granted him the gift of obedience. Which meant that Crutchie was stuck obeying every small command uttered around him. It had led to all sorts of unfortunate experiences, including, but not limited to, the time he punched a bully, the time he ate a worm, and the time he couldn’t tell anyone about the mean kids that teased and bullied Katherine for her big books and owlish glasses.

“Took you long enough,” Oscar remarked once Crutchie entered the living room. “Today we’re going to the rally for the Prince. I do not want to see your ugly mug there. Got it?”

Crutchie nodded, muttering under his breath, “Won’t be that hard with your eyesight.”

“What did you say?” Oscar challenged.

“Nothing. Have fun supporting a politician that has managed to destroy over a century’s peace. And all because he thought free labor would have no consequences, even though if he had ever taken the time to study a history book, he would see—“

“Shut up,” Oscar snapped.

Crutchie’s rant immediately stopped, all words dying in the back of his throat. His silence didn’t keep him from glaring at Oscar and Morris, as they headed out of the door, chattering eagerly about the Prince’s new hair style and how it compared to how he had worn it the previous spring.

Prince Jack was the talk among every citizen of marriageable age. The rumor was that the Prince would need to marry someone before he could actually be officially coronated and named King of New York, great land that it was. Men and women, alike, fawned over his deep, chocolate eyes and his wavy, brunette hair. Oscar had even been elected president of the Jack Fan Club that had been organized in Manhattan. Crutchie still scoffed whenever he entered his step-brother’s shared room and noticed the many posters of the Prince on the walls. Really, it was all a publicity stunt to distract the idiot townspeople from the atrocities being committed around them. And, much to Crutchie’s dismay, it was working.

A knock on the door interrupted Crutchie’s thoughts and he grinned when he saw his best friend waving through the window. “Hey, Kath,” he said, letting her bounce through the door.

“Okay, I painted all these great posters for the rally,” Katherine said, unrolling a poster that called for the end of ogrecide and equality among all. “I tried to see if Specs could come, but Romeo got sick, so it’s just going to be the two of us. Is that okay?” she asked, her eyes crinkling with worry behind the clear frames.

“Of course, Kath. And these look great.”

Katherine smiled. “Thanks, Crutch. Now we better get there before the mob of our great Prince’s fans manages to bring the rally to an end.”

King Snyder—for only a few short days more, until Prince Jack would be crowned the rightful King—stepped out into the bright sunshine. He blinked at the sudden sunlight, waving cheerfully to the crowd of people who had shown up to the rally for their King and Prince. He started speaking, but Crutchie wasn’t paying attention. He noticed that Oscar and Morris were at the front of the group of Jack’s fans, homemade hearts pinned to their chests. Oscar’s head started to turn and Crutchie reacted instinctively. Crutchie immediately ducked behind a pillar, his body acting on its own. He couldn’t be seen by Oscar, he couldn’t be seen by—

“What’s wrong?” Katherine asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Crutchie said, playing it off with a laugh. “Just, uh, like the shade, is all.”

“Well, we’ve got to be out in the open, where the King and the Prince can actually see the posters, or else all this work will have been for nothing.”

“Um, yeah, of course,” Crutchie said, peering around the pillar. Oscar wasn’t looking his way. He stepped out around the pillar, lofting the poster into the air. “Let’s do this, Kath. Show ‘em what’s what.”

As soon as Prince Jack stepped out onto the stage, the crowd burst into cheers and screams and catcalls. The Prince smiled weakly, waving to his adoring fans. He opened his mouth to say something, but Katherine began shouting, “Say no to ogrecide! Say no to ogrecide!” Her voice carried loud and clear over the rally’s crowd, catching the attention of the King, the Prince, and everyone in the square.

Normally, Crutchie would be proud of his friend taking a stand for her beliefs, but not when Oscar’s scowl deepened at the sight of his step-brother. Oscar shoved a couple of the rally-goers aside, stomping angrily towards Crutchie. A slightly-confused Morris followed along, glancing back at Jack longingly. “What are you doing here?” Oscar demanded, ripping the poster from Crutchie’s shaking hands. “I told you not to show your face here. Go home,” he commanded.

Crutchie winced, before muttering softly, “I gotta go, Kath. I’ll see you around.”

“Crutch, wait!” Katherine tried, but Crutchie was already limping out of the square, ignoring the stares from all of the citizens.

“That was a waste,” Crutchie muttered, wiping angrily at his nose. All Crutchie had ever dreamed of, since he was young, was making a difference in the world. But, how could he ever do that, if he continually was forced into following others commands. It wasn’t fair. No one else had been cursed at birth. Only Crutchie seemed lucky enough to have been blessed with some fairy that apparently had decided his life wouldn’t be crappy enough between his twisted leg and his father’s sudden death, and had “gifted” him with obedience.

Crutchie barely had time to notice the sound of screams echoing throughout the forest, before someone grabbed him, dragging him to the ground. He immediately elbowed his assailant in the stomach, but that only managed to trigger a small grunt of pain. A soft hand was clamped over his mouth, while his attacker hissed, “Shh.”

A crowd of men and women, all wearing those tacky “I Heart Jack” pins, ran past them, screaming excitedly. Once they had passed them, Crutchie’s assailant let him go, muttering a small apology. Crutchie turned, surprised to discover that assailant was, in fact, Prince Jack. “That’s a fine way to treat your citizens, shoving them to the ground,” Crutchie muttered, standing up and brushing the dirt from his pants.

“I’m Jack,” Jack introduced himself, handing the other man his crutch.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Oh,” Jack said, running his hand through his brown locks. Crutchie started away, but Jack caught up. “Hey, I never got your name.”

“They call me Crutchie.”

“Do you like the name Crutchie?”

“It’s a far cry better than ‘crip,’ or whatever semi-clever insults the kids on the playground could think of,” Crutchie remarked.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, but Crutchie shrugged his concern off, continuing on his way home. “You know,” Jack continued, “you’re the first person who hasn’t swooned at the sight of me.”

Crutchie snorted. “Then maybe I’ve done you some good.”

“No, I meant—“ Jack fell silent, as a strange sound emanated from the forest on the side of the road. “I’ll go investigate,” he explained, pulling his sword out of its sheath. “Stay here.”

At the command, Crutchie’s feet seemed to freeze in the center of the dirt road. “Jack!” he tried to call, but the Prince either ignored him, or didn’t hear. “Great,” he muttered, tugging uselessly on his legs and trying to will them to move, even though he knew none of his efforts would be successful. Eventually, Crutchie simply gave up, scanning the forest and waiting for his prince to come—Crutchie rolled his eyes at that particular thought—and free him from his temporary stasis.

A quiet rumbling surprised Crutchie. He hadn’t expected any sort of storm, especially with the sky so clear of clouds. As the rumbling grew louder, he glanced behind him, immediately discovering the source of the noise. Some madly drunk man had whipped the horses driving his carriage into a frenzy, and the carriage barreled towards Crutchie, with no sign of slowing. “Jack!” Crutchie shouted again, annoyed at the note of desperation that colored the name. He wasn’t desperate, he wasn’t—only, he was, because his feet still would not move and the carriage was getting closer and—

“Move!”

Crutchie immediately obeyed, leaping out of the way of the carriage and the cackling drunkard. For a moment, Crutchie merely laid on the ground, breathing deeply and thanking everything that he was still alive. His fingers shook, but he quickly fisted his hands to hide the trembling. Ignoring the slight tremor in his voice, Crutchie shouted, “What the hell was that?”

Jack blinked in surprise. “What was what? You weren’t moving; you were just standing there!”

“Clearly, I moved out of the way in time,” Crutchie said, levering himself up with the aid of his crutch. “No thanks to you. How was your little romp into the woods?”

“It wasn’t an ogre.”

“You find a scawy wabbit?” Crutchie teased, focusing on annoying the Prince instead of the way his knees still shook after that near-death experience. He could’ve died, he could’ve died.

“Oh, shut up.”

Crutchie’s mouth snapped shut, but the Prince didn’t seem to notice, as Oscar and Morris ran up to the pair. “Jack!” Oscar called out, taken aback by the appearance of the Prince with his step-brother. “H-how are you? You’re looking,” Oscar paused, examining the Prince’s body, “swell.”

Crutchie snorted, catching Oscar’s attention. “And, Crutchie, take Morris home.”

“Oh, come on,” Morris complained, pouting. But, he listened to his older brother and motioned for Crutchie to come home with him.

“Watch out for rabbits,” Crutchie told Jack, a farewell, of sorts.

“And you stay away from carriages,” Jack told him, a soft smile at his lips.

Crutchie nodded his good-bye, before joining Morris on the road home. “I don’t see why you get to meet Jack,” Morris complained. “Sometimes, Crutchie, I think you’re the luckiest guy alive.” And while Crutchie had never been inclined to agree to a statement such as that, he found himself wondering if this was a start of a new, luckier chapter in his life.