he/him media enjoyer • roman/rome • australian, 17 • javey&ralbert centric • always down for a chat !!
457 posts
Latest Posts by loiteringandlurking - Page 7
the whole newsies fandom is such a trip to be apart of because i am always thinking of the movie, and all the other versions obviously are very impactful to the fandom and to my personal ideas about the characters (i love katherine shes my silly goose) but i can not over emphasize how much the newsies 1992 movie is like my default. and i think its just because it is so very very gay.
i see the vision of all of the ships in the proshot and the other versions that ive seen but goddamn is the 1992 movie some homosexual shit
Newsies twitter conversations that I might build on later-
“once and for all we won’t carry no banners that don’t spell freedom” might be the craziest lyric i’ve ever heard are you kidding me
A storm once passed through Manhattan and most definitely humbled how good the older newsies think they were with the youngsters.
Kloppman allowed them to stay for free this day as they certainly weren't going to be going out selling.
Ike started crying once the lightning began. Mike wasn't really sure what was happening, but Ike cried, thus setting him off too. Jack brought out some pencils and scrap paper and drew with them until they calmed down. These drawings are now hung up next to Jack's bed.
Splasher was actually very excited about the storm and stood in front of the window and watched the rain hit against the ground and would clap in excitement when lightning struck. Albert and Finch ended up watching with him just in case anything were to happen but were also clapping along with him and trying to match the kids' energy.
Elmer actually lasted pretty long without breaking down, though once the thunder began, he quickly ran to Race for comfort, who started telling him random stories until he fell asleep in his arms.
It was quite a stressful day for everybody, but they were looking forward to the headline the next day. Those papes would be being sold like they were giving them away.
i think the lovely thing about this fandom is that it is constantly growing and changing fr like… there are always gonna be new kids who fall in love with the show bc its the first production theyre apart of and older fans coming back to reminisce on the movie and everyone in between. and yeah it’s over and nothing New is really happening (yet. looking at u, uksies) but the foundation is here and it keeps on growing and i think that is so lovely and beautiful and im glad u all are here
Jack writes in a diary, but instead of titling it like others would with "Dear Diary" He directs each entry to a different Newsie. He finds it easier to let it all out if his mind thinks he's writing all this to somebody. His diary entries are really more like letters he'll never send.
Dear Racetrack,
We got some new kids today, Davey and his brother Les. Les thought I was pretty cool, Davey might take a little more convincing. They seem pretty sound though, they got parents and a flat, the whole nine yards, y'know?
Dear Jojo,
We're officially on strike against Pulitzer! That bastard raised the prices without even a word of warning to us and expect us to just go along with it? Yeah, well, have we got news for them, am I right?
Dear Crutchie,
This wasn't how today was supposed to end. I know we were warned this could go wrong, but I didn't think we'd be beaten that badly.
I feel like real shit knowing I didn't go down there and help him after all those times he helped me. My brothers been sent to the one place I swore to protect everybody from, and I just stood there. I'm so sorry Crutch.
Dear I'm sorry I let you down Davey.
Albert DaSilva, whose clothes have gotten torn and ripped so much in fights that they're almost 70% sewn on patches at this point
Buttons has gotten so used to him coming in to get something fixed that they don't even need to say anything anymore. Albert just strolls in and hands him the clothing, no questions asked
welcome to a random Javid moment I found in 92sies when I was watching it the other day
JACK LITERALLY GRABS DAVID BY THE TIE?!? AND DRAGS HIM ALONG?!? YOU’RE TELLING ME THEY’RE STRAIGHT?!
“Dave?”
“Sorry,” Davey murmurs, shuffling around again. “My leg’s just cramping up, I’m fine.”
Jack moves closer, opening his arms and shifting his knees further apart.
“C’mere,” he beckons, tugging Davey along by the shirt sleeve until he’s settling into the new space Jack’s created for him—sitting in the vee of Jack’s legs, leaning back against his chest. “How’s that? Better?”
Davey carefully lowers himself down, letting his head rest just under Jack’s chin, and relaxes in with a soft sigh.
“Better,” he agrees. “Thanks Jackie.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Jack says.
Davey stills.
“You cold?” Jack asks. “Here, lemme…”
He adjusts their cocoon of blankets, his arms coming up to wrap around Davey’s torso—warm and strong and secure.
“How’s that?”
“Perfect,” Davey whispers.
The movie continues, lights and color and action and sound, but Davey processes none of it, captivated by the gentle rise and fall of Jack’s chest beneath his cheek, the comforting heat of his body, the echo of his voice in his ear.
Unable to help himself, unable to just let things lie, he says, “Sweetheart.”
“What?” Jack asks, distracted.
“You called me sweetheart,” Davey says.
He feels more than hears Jack’s breath hitch in his throat, his hands curling a hair tighter around Davey’s waist before settling again.
He waits for Jack to take it back.
“I did,” Jack agrees instead, his words careful and measured. “Do you mind it?”
Davey breathes in and breathes out, finding the zipper of Jack’s hoodie and working it between his fingers. Jack sits patiently, rubbing soft circles along the his back as he waits for him to gather his thoughts.
“No,” Davey says quietly, after a while. “No, I don’t mind it.”
“You sure?” Jack checks.
Davey tucks his face further into Jack’s chest. He doesn’t know what to make of the warm feeling bubbling inside him and he’s unwilling to face it—he’ll only ruin it.
“Yeah, ‘m sure,” Davey murmurs. “It’s nice.”
race: truth is, i only know one truly platonic relationship.
race: you and me.
albert: don’t make me laugh, race. you want to hit this so hard.
I feel like the whole “race and albert are banned in the kitchen” is just slightly off: either they will burn your kitchen down but somehow still put something on the table that is worth five michelin stars
or are both individually excellent cooks but should not be put together (which I feel like honestly counts for almost everything they do together, it’s like their rational working braincells turn off when they are together and only turn on again when they’re apart)
Davey: I wish I lacked critical thinking skills. Race and Albert seem so happy.
I think modern ralbert fics are so funny because they're always written as Albert is this macho guy who never wears sleeves and always has on a backwards cap and is super buff and sporty and his boyfriend is the dictionary definition of a flamboyant twink
which newsie would try to kiss their own reflection and why is it race?
which newsie would try to fight their own reflection and why is it albert?
race: albert's arms are my reason for living they're so big and he never covers them up so I can always see them and he's so strong he can carry me for like 30 minutes and not break a sweat-
elmer: uh race
race: what?
albert standing behind him with tears in his eyes: you really think my arms are big???
my favorite thing about modern au ralbert is that al doesn’t really dress outwardly queer he’s just like yeah. tee shirt with the sleeves cut off and baggy jeans and maybe a flannel if he’s feeling fancy. straight boy chic. and he’s dating urban dictionary’s definition of a twink
Thinking about how novelsies spot is a redhead and how he's usually not described that way in fics 'cause even if more ppl read the novel we've already got albert meeting our redhead quota
Realising that if we did have both spot and albert as redheads.. considering the popularity of sprace/ralbert/spralbert... we could say racetrack has a type
platonic davey/katherine featuring newsbians!! i can’t sleep and i have so much due tomorrow so ofc i’m staying up drawing instead of going to bed </3 😀
whisper <3
"Jack," David's voice rings softly, laughing as quietly as he can, his arm linked with Jack's. "We- hah- we've been walkin' for years. Let me kiss you?"
They're a little over halfway back to Jack's apartment, a small one-bedroom he was able to scrounge up enough money for, now that he's working for The World. It's nothing fancy, and it's not in a good part of town, but it's home.
It's become somewhat of a home to Davey, too, but that's just another perk, Jack thinks.
"We're almost there," Jack says with a grin, then gasps as David stumbles- he nearly falls over, but he rights himself and laughs, which causes Jack to roll his eyes fondly. "You really can't handle your alcohol, can ya, Mouth?"
The occasion for the night: dinner with Katherine and Sarah, mixed with top-shelf drinks and better food than Jack's had in months. Jack himself is just this side of tipsy, but he feels good, and David is at least sober enough to walk.
They only make it another block before Jack feels his arm tugged, and suddenly he's pulled into an alley by the tall brunette walking next to him. Jack grins as his back makes contact with a brick building.
"Davey," Jack laughs, running his hand through David's hair as he starts peppering kisses on Jack's face. "We're almost home, okay? Then you can kiss me all ya want, I promise."
"Fine... I just love you," David whispers, eyes bright with a wide, toothy grin- a goofy looking one, lopsided and showing his barely crooked teeth, nose scrunched up with the force of it. Not the practiced, picture-perfect smile Jack has come to know and love. "Did you know that?"
Jack's heart soars, and he can't help but chuckle. They're in public, and they have to be quiet, but hearing David say those words so plainly? It makes Jack's head swim. "I love you too," He murmurs, leaning up and brushing the tip of his nose to David's. Finally, he presses a soft kiss to David's lips, and David laughs into it, giddy and high-pitched and perfect.
After a few more drunken, messy kisses, David and Jack walk the final seven minutes home. Maybe David will feel humiliated in the morning, maybe David will regret acting so loosely, so freely. Maybe David will feel like he's too much.
But Jack will be there regardless, and take as much David as David allows himself to show.
in case the first one's too weird, perhaps the phrase 'bruised heart', because ive been listening to pink ladies again and have a problem - @pigeonwit
"I guarantee you, you don't want me. You don't."
The words hit Jack like a truck.
When he told himself he was going to finally confess to David today, when he ran through all of the options and avenues for the conversation while on the thirty minute subway ride, he never once considered this option. The option where David thought he wouldn't be good enough, the one where he would say-- that.
Jack's mouth opens and closes for a few moments, the words lodged in his throat, before he chokes out, "What?"
To his credit, David laughs. It's not a happy sound, though- no, it's defeated, and trails off into a sigh at the tail-end of it. As he drops his shoulders, David's gaze flick's to Jack's across the table, before dropping back down to his clasped hands next to his cup of coffee. "You don't want me," David says easily, like it's a fact. Like it doesn't rip Jack in two.
"No, I heard you," Jack says, leaning a little further in, but he makes sure to keep his voice down- he doesn't need the rest of the cafe hearing this. Why he decided to do this in public, he doesn't know anymore, but he felt like he was going to burst out of his skin if he didn't blurt it out. "I just- I don't... get it. What do you mean, I don't want you? I think I know what I want, Dave."
David sighs, shaking his head and giving Jack a desperate, pleading look. "I'm telling you, you don't want-"
"And I'm tellin' you, you don't know what I want or not," Jack cuts in. "And I want you. I want you, and everything you're willin' to give, do you understand?" He stares at David, who is silent, and refuses to meet Jack's eyes.
Jack takes a deep breath and reaches out, gently taking David's hand. David doesn't pull away, but he doesn't grab back. "Look, I... I don't care if you don't want this. That's fine, and we can forget I ever opened my big mouth, okay? But if you- if you're refusin' to give this a shot 'cause you don't think you're good enough... Dave, you can't possibly believe that."
David gulps, his gaze shifting frantically, and he looks like a deer in the headlights. The image makes Jack regret ever saying anything, but when Jack starts to pull his hand away, David stops him with a squeeze. "Do you-" He stops, clearing his throat and staring straight at the wooden table between them. "Do you know how hard it is for... for me to get out of bed every day?"
Jack stays silent. David takes a breath, and closes his eyes.
"It's- It's not that I don't want you, Jackie, 'cause I want you more than you'll ever know," He whispers. "But you... You deserve more than me, okay? You deserve someone who doesn't feel drained every day. Someone who can be... I don't know, happy, without having to try to be. I'm a mess, Jack. You don't want that."
"I don't want that for you," Jack murmurs, squeezing David's hand back. "David, we... we can wait 'til you feel better, or healed, or whatever the fuck it is, but regardless, I don't... I don't need you to change for me to love you, okay? You deserve that, just as you are."
David finally looks up, and gulps hard. "...Love?"
"Yeah. Love," Jack responds.
David's shoulders sink a little, and he nods slowly, his grip on Jack's hand tightening. "I'm broken," David mumbles. "And I-- I know that sounds dramatic, but I've never... I've never been good at this, and you know that. You've been there for all of my breakups."
"Yeah, I have," Jack nods, "and I know that you didn't deserve a damn one of 'em. David, you're a catch, and if people don't get that... That's their problem. Not yours." With a soft sigh, Jack looks down, then shifts in his seat and looks back up at David. "You don't have to make a decision now. We can talk this out when you want, 'kay? The ball's in your court, Dave, but... You ain't broken. I swear."
"Jack..."
"There's a difference between broken and bruised," Jack murmurs. "Okay? You... You might be goin' through a rough patch. You might be hurtin', and that fuckin' sucks, but that don't mean you're beyond repair. You said the same damn thing about me."
David gulps hard, then uses his free hand to rub his eyes. "I... I don't know if I'm ready for-... I'm sorry..."
Jack shakes his head. "You got nothin' to apologize for, okay? If you need to wait, we wait."
"I want to," David explains. "I-... I really, really want to try with you, I just..."
"It's okay," Jack whispers. "I promise."
"Promise," David whispers back.
They finish lunch. They go to the park, then to a bar. They table it for a month and a half before David takes the plunge and kisses Jack. A bruised heart just takes a little time, and Jack Kelly would wait an eternity and a half for David Jacobs.
hi !
this is so random but can you write abt ralbert?? like literally anything ralbert, i need more fuel for headcannons :3
RALBERT!!!!!! I LOVE RALBERT!!!!!!!
teehee I wrote this in a moment of yearning, sorry it's so short :(
'Albert, seriously.' Race sounds exasperated, holding Albert's left hand gingerly with his own, holding a torn up shirt in the other.
'I'm sorry, okay?' Albert mumbles over his shoulder, away from Race. 'You don't have to wrap my hands.' He sucks in a breath as coarse fabric tightens against his bloodied knuckles.
'You don't have to get in fights protecting people who don't need protecting.' Race glances up at Albert under his cap, eyes hard and cold.
Albert stares back, trying to give his coldest look. But he winces when Race turns his hand over, so his knuckles are resting on Race's warm palm. The sensation hurts, but it's welcome. Race ties the fabric around Albert's wrist, and gently puts his hand down, picking up the other one, dripping blood on Albert's shorts.
'But he called you bad things.' Albert says quietly, scrunching his left hand up. 'He called Jack bad things. He called the newsies bad things.'
'That doesn't mean you should beat him up.' Race says sharply, pulling the fabric a little too taut around Albert's knuckles. 'We can protect ourselves.'
Albert looks away. 'But I care. About you and Jack and the newsies. How else am I meant to show that I care?'
Race ties the fabric around Albert's hand, finishing the wrap. He puts his other hand on top of Albert's, like a sandwich. 'You feel this, Albert? You feel my hands, and how warm they are? That means I care. Soft touches mean you care, not hurting ones.'
Albert bites his lip. Soft touches. When was the last time Albert felt a soft touch?
Race puts his hand up to Albert's cheek, rubs his thumb over the bump of an old scar. 'Soft touches mean I love you, Albert. Soft touches mean I love you no matter what you do or what happens.' He chuckles a little. 'That doesn't mean I condone you beating up Oscar Delancey for almost no reason.'
Albert smiles softly, before wrapping Race in a tight hug.
It feels nice.
Albert hasn't hugged or been hugged in probably years. He feels his insides melt with comfort as Race reciprocated the hug, rubbing Albert's back and tightening his grip around Albert's middle.
Soft touches mean I love you.
im curious what's the first meme you remember seeing? mine was numa numa
Race: I made you breakfast 🥰😘💞✨️
Spot: it's burnt
Race: yeah well.
Race: it's made with love. Not skill