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Newsies - Blog Posts
watching uksies boot and 92sies tonight and tmr so stay tuned
Romeo is nearly asleep when he feels Albert rapidly gain weight on the other side of his bed.
He hears a whisper; 'Al, you awake?'
A returning whisper; 'Yeah.'
A quiet chu.
'Race, we can't do this here,' this whisper was barely louder than a breath. 'Romeo's right there.'
'He's asleep, we'll be fine.' Chu.
The bed sags even more.
'What if Romeo gets up early and finds you sleeping next to me?'
'That's a problem for the morning. Stow the seriousity.'
Can u write anything ralbert. is rhat real. pls. Angsty,.,,,cute,, whatever au u want that u haven’t picked cheavhers for please race and albert
YAS!!!!
this is a snippet from my au that im writing ! hope u like :3
----
It was a cold winter night when Race realised he was in love.
Knock knock.
Race checked the time. What would anybody want with his sorry ass at 11:34pm?
He padded over to the door, rubbing his bleary tv eyes.
As he got closer to the door, he heard a sniffle.
Race's mind raced. Who would be crying outside his door late at night?
Did he fuck up?
God, did he ruin his chances with Al?
He opened the door, warily, prepared for the worst.
Albert's teary blue eyes and trembling hands greeted him.
Albert stood a little taller than Race, so he had to stand on tiptoe to see him eye to eye. His red hair was displaced from his usual slick back, strands falling down into his eyes, wet at the ends. He wore a grey shirt, with the sleeves cut off (as usual), with no jacket, despite the freezing temperature and the snow outside. Whether he was trembling because of the cold or the emotions he was clearly feeling was unclear.
In his hands, white knuckled and shaking, he held a Tupperware container full of food. It looked delicious.
And his face. God, his face. He looked at Race almost pleadingly with reddened eyes, eyebrows drawn together, lips pursed and swollen-looking, freckles strewn across his teary cheeks like shooting stars.
'Race?' He asked timidly, bottom lip quivering. Race, in a state of shock, only stepped to the side and waved Albert into his apartment. He closed the door behind him, and motioned Albert to his couch before almost sprinting to his bedroom and grabbing his duvet off his bed. He carried it into the living room, where Albert was now sitting, trembling, staring blankly at the floor, the meal deposited on Race's coffee table.
'Albert,' Race draped his duvet over Albert's shoulders, and climbed over the couch to sit next to him. 'I mean.. Is everything okay? What happened?'
Albert melted. He collapsed against Race, his tears sinking into Race's hoodie, chest heaving with sobs.
'I-' he choked out. 'I made you food. I've been leaving it.. outside your door for... for.. for weeks now, and I just..' he took in a shaky breath. 'I wanted you to.. to know it was me and also I need my containers again.'
'Oh, Albert.' Race hugged Al into his chest, holding him securely and rubbing his back as he cried. 'You're alright, it's okay.'
'I'm... I'm really drunk.' Albert murmured into Race's shoulder. 'M sorry.'
'Hey,' Race threaded his fingers into Albert's hair. 'You're alright. You want a glass of water? Let's get up, I'll give you a hoodie and some water, hey? Then we'll eat the food you brought, alright?'
Albert sniffled. 'Oh.. okay. Yeah.' He took a deep breath and removed himself from the soft curve of Race's body, and stood up, shaking a little.
'I'll get you a hoodie, okay? Head to the kitchen.'
'Okay.'
Race ran to his room, pulled out his biggest hoodie and made his way back to the kitchen, where he found Albert nearly passed out on his counter, eyes drooping, hands clasped together, his hair falling onto his face.
'Here, bud. Put this on.' Race handed Albert the hoodie and retrieved a glass, filling it with tap water. Aware of how tired Albert clearly was, he slipped his meal into the fridge- he'd eat it for breakfast tomorrow.
'Thanks.' Albert whispered, pulling the hoodie over his head- it fit him perfectly, and suited him really well- and downed the water Race gave him next.
'You wanna get some sleep, dude?' Race asked gently, rubbing Albert's back as he leant on the counter again. Albert nodded drowsily.
'Here, follow me.' Race took Albert's hand, leading him to his bedroom. 'Sleep here, yeah?' He deposited Albert so he was sitting on the single bed. 'I'll sleep on the coach tonight.'
'No...' Albert said quietly. 'Sleep here too. 'S comfy.' He dropped down to lay on his side, patting the spot next to him.
How could Race deny this beautiful, beautiful man?
after the strike, the older manhattan newsies are *ruined*. like, comatose, barely awake, exhausted to the CORE. and the younger newsies are SO full of energy like 'YAYY WE DID IT' and the older newsies can only respond with 'ough' before they collapse onto a table at jacobi's. some of the older newsies have taken to sleeping in the same beds at the lodge because it helps them sleep easier. after jack moves to be with davey working in pulitzer's office, race and albert take over the manhattan newsies, trying to keep the morale up while barely keeping it together themselves. when albert suddenly breaks down in tears trying to get the younger newsies to just please listen to him, the only thing race really knows to do is hug him as tight as he can and try to kiss his cheek as inconspicuously as possible.
of course, it doesn't go unnoticed. it creates tradition and openness within the younger newsies; they feel comfortable crying in front of each other for the first time, and often kiss each other on the cheek or forehead to cheer each other up. when jack comes to visit and he finds such a supportive environment, led by race and albert holding hands and wearing steel promise rings, he's spellbound.
he can't believe that race and albert brought this about.
he's so proud of them because now they can finally be themselves.
ben fankhauser as davey jacobs is so gay coded btw... he's a HOMO!!!!!!!
and what if I make all the newsies in my au classically trained musicians... what then.
anyway Albert - trumpet
race - clarinet
Davey - alto sax
jack - piano/pitched percussion
crutchie - actually he's the only one who doesn't play anything .. he came along to all the band rehearsals and sat w them
my 2 gay sons
race with a bridge piercing. yea that's it that all
Buttons, who loves cooking for the other Newsies but is extremely self-conscious about his skill and is shaking like a leaf every time they try out his food.
Elmer scarfing down his bowl: Holy shit, Buttons, this is really good!
Albert, already going back for seconds: Seriously, this is delicious.
Buttons, stood in the corner, practically hyperventilating with tears in his eyes: Oh, thanks fellas.
Modern Javid au where Jack meets this guy (David) who takes some time to warm up to people but once he does he's the Coolest and Jack is crushing so hard on him but like they've become best friends he can't ruin that now by liking a straight guy and telling him and one day he just says something like "woah you really know stuff about music (or something) too bad you're straight what a waste of potential lmao" and Davey is just like "I'm sorry it's too bad I'm what?"
What would the Newises do if they saw the Delanceys showing their brotherly affection with each other?
Interesting question…
I think all the newsies would react in different ways.
Jack would leave it alone. He wouldn’t say anything about the way morris tussled Oscar’s hair, but he would watch the exchange and wonder why they had decided to be as cruel to him as they were.
Race would speak up and ask them if they were going soft which would end in him getting chased all the way to Brooklyn
Crutchie would smile at them and say good morning as he bought his papes and he’d tell them they were lucky to at least have each other
Albert would use the opportunity to slip himself an extra pape or two because Morris would be making sure Oscar was alright after he slipped and fell
David would be too distracted managing his own brother to notice.
Specs would clean his glasses to make sure what he was seeing was actually real.
What do you guys think?
LAST POLL FOR AU PLS DO IT :3
second last one....... (for apartment au!!)
aaaaaaanother poll it will b over soon
MORE BIRTHDAY POLL!
what should jack's bday be in my apartment au??
redhead Albert is my favourite thing ever.... idk why smth about him is so precious.... RAHHH
guys it's coming to fruition slowly... love labours and upstairs neighbours does that hit...... does that work..... FEEDBACK!!!! PLEASE!!!!
if I wrote a modern au in an apartment complex centred around javey and ralbert (but obv featuring most of the named newsies + Kath and maybe Sarah if I ever watch 92sies) would anyone read it...... I'm not talkin oneshots im talkin sink my whole life into this fic .... any takers? (im doing it anyway)
if I wrote a modern au in an apartment complex centred around javey and ralbert (but obv featuring most of the named newsies + Kath and maybe Sarah if I ever watch 92sies) would anyone read it...... I'm not talkin oneshots im talkin sink my whole life into this fic .... any takers? (im doing it anyway)
you'd think Albert would listen to grunge but you would be so wrong .... he's such a sucker for classical music, esp contemporary piano :) his mum played piano before she got sick so it really has a big place in his heart. he always wishes he could play piano for race or the newsies, and that he could externalise his emotions through playing music, but he never got the chance to learn. he likes to sing but never would in front of anybody because he's not trained and doesn't think he sounds that good.. (see: most angelic voice ever)
“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.”
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.
headcanon that albert stomps. he gotta get his emotions out somehow. either that or punching up his friends. he's so me btw
it's time for me to come clean guys ............ im a ralbert truther ... I don't get the sprace hype ......... why spot .... ralbert is just so much better ..... dumb x dumber ......... but also chaotic x has the chaotic one on a leash ....... but ALSO smart and strategic race and 'ill fight my way through them' Albert ......
so many possibilities .......... fluffy kony moments or angsty Albert gets into another fight or race spends too much time at the races or they fight because race is trying too hard to micromanage Albert and help him out .... ralbert > sprace
POSSESSIVE DAVEY PLEASSEEEEEE I LOVE HIM HES MY BOY
teehee! this is an outtake from a wip that I haven't finished lollllllll ....... hope u like!
The night progressed nicely, Albert and Davey eventually hitting it off after a few drinks, Jack and Race only getting louder as they ordered more cocktails.
Davey was distracted from his conversation by a shadow being cast across their table. He looked up and saw a frankly quite unattractive woman making small talk with Jack.
Davey's Jack, to be precise.
Without thinking, he put his left hand on Jack's thigh, sliding it up until it was clearly visible to this woman, brandishing a champagne glass at Jack. Jack glanced quickly to Davey, with the look on his face that Davey knew meant he was flustered. The woman kept talking.
It could have been the amount of drinks Davey had downed, but he moved his hand from Jack's thigh to his waist, pulling Jack closer to him and boring his eyes into this chick's face. He rubbed circles into Jack's waist, and out of his slightly drunken haze he heard the woman say 'I suppose you wanna come back to my place?' with a wink.
What an oblivious bitch.
Davey took one last swig of the beer he had been nursing before situating his other hand on Jack's other hip and pulling the man firmly into his lap. He locked his arms around Jack's torso and put his chin on his shoulder, so he was half-facing the woman.
'Sorry,' he said flatly. 'This is my boyfriend. He's not going anywhere tonight except for my apartment.'
'Oh..' the woman giggled, flashing a bitchy smile at Davey before turning back to address Jack. 'He's drunk, right? You're not dating?'
Albert stood up, rolling up a sleeve. 'You're gonna have to get out of here.'
The woman giggled again, closed lipped and codescending. 'Yeah, sure. Right after I get Jack here's number.'
Jack finally said, in a quiet, pressed voice, 'Fuck off, Hazel.' Race stood up too, and began to exit the booth. 'You heard Jack.' He raised one fist. 'Fuck off.'
'Jesus! Fine!' Hazel threw her hands up and stalked off. Davey deposited Jack where he had been sitting, releasing an incredibly tight grip he didn't realise he had been holding.
'Jack, what the fuck was that?' Race questioned, returning to his seat. 'Who's she?'
'It doesn't matter.' Jack muttered quietly. 'Davey, let's head home soon.'
Davey immediately stood up, a little wobbly on his feet. 'Let's go right now. It was great to meet you two,' he turned to address Race and Albert, 'but me and Jack are gonna leave now. I've probably had one too many drinks anyway.'
Jack starts reading bc he knows davey loves to read btw. jack reads poetry so he can understand the way davey's mind works. he spends hours trying to make himself feel like he's worthy of davey's love. like he's enough for Davey to love, not just a husk of a man who lost his hope long ago. after the strike, and after jack finally settles down and starts living in a small flat in lower manhattan, he feels empty. without any reason to keep going except his job as a waiter, he spends a lot of time thinking. thinking about how he might never see Davey again, and that everything that happened between them was incidental to him, not like how it changed jack permanently.
what if he meant nothing to Davey? what if Davey truly forgot about jack? what if Davey never really cared???