thats-our-que-boys - Tumblr blog

[thats-our-que-boys]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Newsies (1992) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins Characters: Spot Conlon, Racetrack Higgins (mentioned), Brooklyn Newsies Additional Tags: Hanahaki Disease, Unrequited Love, Past Child Abuse, Past Murder, eek, Canon Era Summary:

Fear surprisingly wasn’t his first reaction, in fact, he couldn’t find it in himself to be scared. After building up walls to prevent this, he still ended up with the same fate as his mother. Suffocated by one-sided love. As he stared at the two petals lightly speckled with blood, that taunted him for his unfortunate future, he laughed.

[thats-our-que-boys]

Race: Yeah I vape, what about it?

Spot: Race that’s your inhaler stop trying to be fucking cool and oh my god you’re going to have an asthma attack can someone please call 911

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Whenever a picture of Mush Myers from Newsies (1992) appears on my dash

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hA i posted this shit saying bE SAFE SIS I FELL OFF A PORCH AND THREW UP THE WHOLE NIGHT AHAHAHA

4/20 Weekend!

hi all!

4/20 weekend has officially begun, so i just wanted to remind all who are participating to be safe! know what your smoking, have a designated driver, and have fun!

much love!

[thats-our-que-boys]

4/20 Weekend!

hi all!

4/20 weekend has officially begun, so i just wanted to remind all who are participating to be safe! know what your smoking, have a designated driver, and have fun!

much love!

[thats-our-que-boys]

yo, this was good. read it.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Newsies - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins Characters: Spot Conlon, Racetrack Higgins, Brooklyn Newsies, Sarah Jacobs, Katherine Plumber Pulitzer Additional Tags: Hanahaki Disease, Spot Conlon is Bad at Feelings, Minor Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Minor Crutchie/Jack Kelly, Team Mom Spot Conlon, Period-Typical Homophobia Summary:

Flowers start to bloom in Brooklyn. In the worst possible place, Spot’s lungs.

Like Sprace? Like flowers in lungs? Read my Sprace about flowers in lungs.

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Look what I did! So proud of this.

If Newsies was a Friends TV-show

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just hold me. (1/2)

Three months, two weeks, and six days, Spot was with him through it all. 

Pairing: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgens

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Editing: eh, i scanned through it

Warnings: Past Drug Abuse, Depictions of Drug Usage, Addiction, Very Brief Mentions of Withdrawals

Authors Note: Please, please, do not read this if you are triggered or uncomfortable with any of the warnings. Drug abuse and addiction are very sensitive and serious subjects. If any of the warnings make you uncomfortable, please just click away. 

Three months, two weeks, and six days. It had been three months, two weeks, and six days since Race had last touched any form of narcotic; the longest he had gone without a relapse. He of course still smoked, but a cigarette every hour was better for him than a bump of cocaine every thirty minutes.

His boyfriend, Spot, was an amazing support system through his recovery. Spot preferred a life of sobriety, after watching alcohol destroy his biological family at a young age. Even after being moved into the foster care system, and later being adopted a healthy family, Spot never dared to try anything that was intoxicating. 

Spot was the reason why Race took on the challenge of quitting. When they had first got together, just over a year ago, their relationship started off on the rocks. They had met at an art show, both going in support of Jack, one of Race’s close friends and Spot’s adoptive brother. Though Race had taken an immediate interest in Spot, his ecstasy fueled, shameless flirting was simply brushed off with an unimpressed hum or one word response. At the end of the night, when Race asked if Spot would like to follow him home, it was a surprise to them both when he said yes.

During the first few months, their relationship was mainly hookups, and occasionally getting a meal together. They never discussed how exclusive they were, or really what they were, until one night; when Race had tagged along to a bar with Spot and a handful of his co-workers. When they stumbled into Race’s apartment later that night, desperately nipping at each other’s lips, Spot had put a hand against Race’s chest and lightly shoved him off, saying he couldn’t continue seeing Race unless they were actually going to be something. 

Even after officially becoming a couple, their relationship was still rocky - due to Race’s constant sneaking around for a high. Spot was amazing, and it was insanely easy for Race to fall head over heels for him. Their relationship was unlike any other Race had ever been in, and the idea of messing it up terrified him. The night that he entered his apartment to the sight of an infuriated Spot sitting next to his coffee table, where an inch long straw sat next to an open bag of white powder, Race cried apologies for hours. Apologies for hiding it, for lying, even apologies for Spot having to see that side of him.

Spot left Race’s apartment saying he needed time to think, and didn’t speak to Race again until a week later. When he finally did show up to Race’s apartment to talk, he wanted to know everything. What else he was intaking, how often was he using, and how long had he been using. After a long pause, Race answered all of Spot’s questions. He recalled the story of how he made friends in the wrong places all the way back in high school, and how it had just spiraled into a part of his everyday routine from then. Explained how he used anything that he could get his hands on, and honestly couldn’t remember the last time he was completely sober.

Once his questions were all answered, Spot shook his head, and shattered Race’s heart with the simple confession of, “I can’t love you unless you’re sober.”

The three weeks that followed was what led Race to realize the severity of his problem. Days blended into nights, fueled by powder and pills. Sleepless nights passed by quickly, and when the exhaustion began to hit, he’d go in search of something else to pass his time with. Despite constantly filling his bloodstream with energy, his body could only stay awake for so long. He woke up one afternoon, despite not remembering falling asleep, feeling as if someone had carved a hole in his chest and dropped weights into it. All energy he previously had was completely drained, and his emotions felt like they were yanked out of his body.

With a simple text saying, i can try, to Spot their relationship was put back into motion. Race had promised Spot that he would quit, permanently; which was easier said than done. Two weeks after he swore to sobriety, Race found himself tearing apart his apartment and swallowing down three white bars hidden in his TV remote. As soon as the last pill made its way down his throat, he couldn’t help the shame filled sobs that forced their way out his mouth, and he was calling Spot and apologizing for breaking his promise. 

Instead of scolding him, Spot showed up at his apartment door and held him as he cried. When Race woke up the next morning, still wrapped up in his lover’s arms, Spot suggested that Race move in with him so he could be there next time Race faced temptation.

Moving in with Spot was exactly what Race needed. Race’s own apartment was riddled with hidden narcotics throughout every corner, but the only drugs to be found in Spot’s apartment were harmless over the counter medications. Every day that Race came home, itching for some sort of chemical relief, Spot was quick to pick him back up before he even fell.

Over time, the fevers that left him violently sobbing out in pain, the begging to just bring him something - anything - one time and then he’d be done, and the migraines that clouded his vision, came to a stop. Though physically, Race was back on his feet and sober, the craving constantly called out to him in the back of his mind.

Whenever he was close to slipping, and just calling up the numbers still in his phone, Spot was there. Three months, two weeks, and six days, Spot was with him through it all.

eEK so that’s that. umm part two will be up eventually, but there’s no need to read it. that’s just aNGST. thank you for reading ♥

If you or anyone you know is struggling with drug abuse or addiction, please reach out for help. You can message me, speak to a trusted person, or contact the support centers below.

U.S. -

National Drug Hotline : +1 888-633-3239

DrugRehab.com Hotline : +1 855-789-9197

SAMHSA Hotline : +1 800-662-4357

Alcoholics Anonymous General Service Office : +1 212-870-3400

Mexico -

SAMHSA Hotline : +1 800-662-4357

[thats-our-que-boys]

Hey if u ever have the time u should do..... Les becoming the next hattan leader when Jack becomes too Olde

Well by my own canon Race takes over once Jack leaves but hey he’s not that much younger than Jack so Les might as well get ready to take leadership!! I bet he can’t wait for that growth spurt :^)

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the first five emotes on your recently used emojis describe you as a person ready set go

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I feel like no one truly appreciates the savagery of the line “I dunno, sistah, but it’s bound ta rain soonah or latah!” As the granddaughter of very Catholic very Polish immigrants, I felt that line on a spiritual level. Elmer was risking his life saying that. You know that nun had a direct line to Elmer Kasprzak’s mother, and his butt was sitting on a cold church pew mumbling a rosary on Sunday while his 8 siblings snickered. And that’s if he was lucky.

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as an

*sips coffee* what a beautiful day to remember that asexuality is real and what the A in LGBTQA+ stands for and that they are not straight but a part of the LGBTQA+ community

[thats-our-que-boys]

newsies on a mission, k̡̈̄̽͐̌̅̇̚͏̬͎̥̺̜ȋ͖̦̪͕͊ͪͥͭ͆̀l̦̝̙̗̝͑̍̇̓̽̑́͗̚̕l̫̘̦̭͙̼͈͇͂ͥͭ̏ͅ ̦̯͎ͥ͊͐̈ͮ͛ͯt̵̼͈͎͎͓̰͎̹͌̊̈́̕ḥ͇̠̺̬̤̱̪ͬͬ̂̓̓̽̀ẹ͕̯̩̹̱͇͕͗̿̓̊̃̊͞ ̢̟̞̫̬͙͖͖͓̂̓͐ͪͮ̎ͬ̋ͤ͢c̸̫̫̳͉ͫ́̈͗͗̈͠o̬̰̯̳̠̰̐ͤ͂ͮ̿̚͠͝ḿ̶̖̰͇ͨͭͧ͢p̸͈̺̞͒̑̈́̀̚͞e̤ͯͫt̢͎̗̑̊ͬ̅ͤĭ̸̙̙̜̠̜͇͋tͯ̇ͪͭ̆̍͡͏̨̱͕̙͈̳̖ī͎̙̦͖̖̓ọ̸͒̕ņ̜̣͓̥̫ͥͮ͛̒͋̀͑ͧ͢͞

[thats-our-que-boys]

babies cant even hit a bong on their own. you have to light it for them

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“Look what I made!”

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i-

Modern Sprace vibes anyone?

(Artist: Arielle Jovellanos)

[thats-our-que-boys]

HEY

my dad told me that if I get 10,000 notes on Tumblr I can get a pet rat and I really really like rats so please like and/or reblog this and I will love u forever pls bro I will cry tears of joy if I can get a rat