Racetrack Higgins - Blog Posts

Highschool Fic update

No I haven’t started writing, I am currently writing an outline of what i want to happen but here are the ships I have planned. Also unless they are a musical only character I will be using the 1992 versions of the characters so if you haven’t seen that version you should.

Jack and David, but it’s like kinda slow burn

Jack and Kathrine, but by the start of the story they have broken up but stayed friends

Blink and Mush, obviously

Jack and Sarah, they did date prior to the story but non of Sarah’s family or the Newsies knew they were dating or that they knew each other, you’ll see how that works later

Sarah and Kathrine, we love the newsbians

Racetrack and Spot, again using the 92 versions only bc I’m a sucker for a good ‘92sies Sprace story (sorry Spralbert and Ralbert shippers)

Bumlets, Swifty, and Skittery, BUMSWIFTERY FOR LIFE

Snitch and Itey, there is no freaking way they aren’t dating they literally share a bed

Tommy Boy and Finch, don’t ask me why it’s just one of my favorites

Specs and Dutchy, yes 92 Specs this ship is so random but I love it so much

Elmer and Buttons, I LOVE THESE TWO AHH

Jojo and Mike, can’t have a story without these two

Sniper, Smalls, Hotshot, but all girls because we NEED girl power

Graves and York, gotta have some Brooklyn Newsies ofc

These are all I can think of at the moment if you have anymore that you want to see or that I forgot please comment them

i think it's high time I show you guys my newsies 2d designs bc I draw them ALL the time ... especially in my chemistry book LMAO. coming soon ...... in the meantime have ralbert :)

so albert has like long-ish hair, right? he puts his hair up in double braids more for practicality's sake than anything. he has two younger sisters, that's how he knows how to braid.

now consider race who sees albert doing his hair up and watches so intently that he learns. sometimes the girlsies in brooklyn let him practice on their hair, just so he can offer to do it for albert. albert doesn't say yes very often.

but, one day he does. his wrists hurt and his arms are tired. he sits down at the bottom of the staircase of the lodging house, race sits a step higher. albert lays his head on race's thigh, just a little bit, and race nearly explodes. he tries not to pull on the braid too hard (spot's main complaint) and albert sighs happily as he feels race's fingers card through his hair. it's music to races ears. he lets himself smile, softly, smittenly, as he 'accidentally' strokes albert's cheek on his way to get a new strand of hair.

race wants this all the time.

writing drabbles isn't enough I need to SEE the characters do the things

Albert lies on Race's bed. It's 8:34am (or so Race's clock tells him), he's groggy, and he can hear Race's microwave and coffee machine.

He blinks a few times. He remembers what had happened last night; he wasn't THAT drunk, and he remembers it was fucking embarrassing. He dreads facing Race as he will inevitably have to.

Race, the cute guy in apartment 309 that now knows it was Albert leaving him meals after he overheard on the phone Race hated cooking, Race who smells faintly of smoke and has a crooked smile, Race who he shared a bed with last night, Race who gave Albert his hoodie. Race who, Albert is certain of it, he is completely and totally crushing on.

He drags one foot to the floor, then another, pushing himself upright. His sweatpants are creased, the neckline of his- Race's- hoodie is askew, his hair is knotted and all over the place; he can tell just by running a hand through it. He follows the noise of the coffee machine to Race's kitchen.

There he is.

God, Albert nearly faints. His hair is adorably tousled, his shirt is loose and hanging barely onto his shoulders, he has his back to Albert, letting him drink in all of his sharp lines, curved musculature- or at least what he can see under the shirt.

Albert clears his throat.

Race turns, brandishing a mug. "Morning! How'd you sleep?"

Albert tears his eyes from Race's figure to look at Race's coffee machine.

"Uh.. alright. I'm a little hungover, though. I might get a glass of water?" He clears his throat again, looking down to his feet. "Sorry about last night."

Race is all smiles and bounces as he fills a glass with water and brings it to Albert, smiling softly and, dare Albert say, sweetly and lovingly, as he hands Albert the water and pats his shoulder.

"That's totally okay, man. I get it, I get you. I'm sorry about how fucked up and awful your emotions must be. But now we get to eat yummy breakfast together!" Race points at the microwave. "The food you made last night! I have no idea what it is, but it looks and smells delicious!!"

"We?"

Race looks away, takes his hand off Albert's shoulder- Albert's shoulder is cold.

"Well.. I mean, unless you don't want to..."

"No! No, I want to." Albert steps closer to Race, putting his own hand on Race's shoulder. "I just.... I was scared you didn't like me."

Race looks shocked.

The coffee machine stops brewing.

"No, Al, I..." Race sighs, looking away. "I don't know. I'm confused."

Albert sags, a little defeated. "That's okay. Take your time figuring it out. I'll be here for you, if you want me to be."

The microwave beeps.

"That would be lovely."

albert doesn't really KNOW how to express affection. he steals race's cigar every once in a while, but he doesn't think race really appreciates that. what he knows (or thinks) race likes is when albert hugs him, when albert compresses race as tightly as possible for as long as possible. usually albert isn't a hugger, but something about the way race melts in his arms is addicting. the faint smell of smoke on his vest, the soot on his cheeks wiping onto albert's neck, where albert wouldn't want to clean, to keep that faint reminder of race on him for a little longer.

some mornings albert 'accidentally' puts on race's vest instead of his own, to smell his scent of smoke and sweat and warmth in winter. sometimes he climbs into race's bed with him just to Be with him. to feel race's warmth and smell his smoke.

being with race is the only thing he really wants, he thinks.

youre telling me racetrack Higgins WOULDNT be into y2k fashion?????????????? he's a DANCER he's a MODERN MAN he's GAY of COURSE he loves y2k!!!!! the wraparound sunglasses, the tight crop tops, the big jeans, the headphones???? that man was MADE for y2k!!

The walls of Race’s apartment were far from blank. They were adorned with almost anything he ever found or bought. Posters, shitty drawings, better drawings, sticky-notes, old sheet music, newspaper. Anything Race could find. He was like a crow in that sense.

He couldn’t bear living in between two blank walls. It would feel too much like a psych ward or a hospital- Race was never too fond of hospitals.

The last time he was in a hospital, it was for one of his friends having a baby. He was happy for her, but the blank walls tightened around his chest and held him firmly still, too still. Standing too still between the blank walls, Race couldn’t help but think of the fact that a hospital was the first place he had ever been. It would probably be the last, like it had been for so many members of his family.

Such a sterile place to be filled with so much death. So much pain. So much happiness.

All of it contained in this vessel so devoid of emotion that Race can’t breathe.

It’s not the blankness of the space that constricts his chest, it’s the amount of emotion it contains. He wants to explain it but nobody would really understand the extent of it.

But even before he steps into Race’s living room, Albert understands.

He knows- to a certain extent- what has happened in Race’s life, what has shaped him, what draws him to make forts out of blankets, decorate his walls, write on his arms; and he understands.

Albert has patches sewn onto almost every piece of furniture and upholstery he owns. Albert has posters on his walls and Albert writes on his hands.

Race is just a reflection of him, really.

That’s why he loves him. That’s why Race loves Albert.

Their experiences shape them into the same person. Is that such a bad thing?

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.

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

aaaaaaanother poll it will b over soon

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)

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.

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

hey chat yhhhhh does racetrack higgins have a real name ... is his legal name racetrack .... because that's so funny .... nonbinary ass name ..... any race expert moots in the rbs does race have a Name

crotcheting my cat a phat doobie because I am an enabler but it's racetrack higgins. thank you for coming to my Ted talk

dude what are the newsies birthdays .... like are there canon days or is it just headcanons ......

race collects Cadillac models btw ... his favourite is the 1955 fleetwood

in a hobby shop rn ... anyway crutchie is a board game fan .... race collects model cars .... davey likes making models but isn't too into cars ... race has horrible fine motor skills ... davey makes the models for race to display ....

in a hobby shop rn ... anyway crutchie is a board game fan .... race collects model cars .... davey likes making models but isn't too into cars ... race has horrible fine motor skills ... davey makes the models for race to display ....

guys how extensive is newsiesblr??? can everyone active on newsiesblr who sees this interact ... I wanna follow everybody :3

DELECTABLE!!!

Some Sort of Peace- Racetrack Higgins

(No trigger warnings)

Summary- Davey’s the Manhattan newsies’ leader now, but that doesn’t mean that Race still isn’t second-in-command- and it doesn’t mean that there isn’t still problems to solve.

************************************************************************     “What do you want?” Davey snapped from his place at the door, and Race swallowed any nervousness as he looked sheepishly at him. 

    “Heya, Dave,” he greeted the taller newsie, doffing his cap and offering Davey a grin that was not returned. “So, I was just thinkin’, and I got an idea for a solution to the whole situation with Brooklyn.”

    “Make it quick.” Davey glared somewhere over Race’s shoulder, in a direction that Race knew well enough to be facing the Brooklyn Bridge. Ever since Jack had taken off to Santa Fe and Davey had taken control of Manhattan, tensions with Spot Conlon and his boys were rising endlessly- Jack’s charisma had been a bigger asset than any of them had known at the time, and with him gone, they had nothing to keep Brooklyn placated other than compromises, which were adding up by the ton.

    “Well, since a lot of the problems are with Brookies sellin’ on our turf, maybe we could station some newsies near the bridge?” Race watched Davey’s face for any sign of further agitation, any note that he should back off and come back later, but the other’s face remained stone cold. “If we set definite rules for where Conlon’s boys can go, he won’t try and push the boundaries any further back.”

    “How do you know this’ll work?” Now, Davey seemed interested. Race almost heaved a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be facing the wrath of their new leader, who’d changed so much from the meek and polite boy the newsies had first met that it was uncanny, especially how fast he’d been to take over when Jack left. It’s like remarryin’ while your wife ain’t even cold, Race mused silently. 

    Clearing his throat and twirling his cigar in his fingers, Race continued. “I’ve been hangin’ around Brooklyn a lot- had a lot of conversations with Spot, y’know- and I’ve notice that for all their toughness, the last thing Conlon wants is a fight.” His lips turned up in a smile. “If we play nice for a while, give ‘im a soft reminder that Manhattan ain’t his turf, he’ll back off.”

    Davey’s hand toyed almost nervously with the seam on his sleeve, picking at the worn thread. “Go see if Specs’ll deliver the message,” he commanded, and Race resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Not even a thank-you?

​​​​​​​   “Sure thing, boss.” As Race turned to leave, he felt some sort of shift in the air behind him. Turning to look one last time, he saw Davey looking at him- were his eyes that misty before?

    “You’re doing great, Racer,” Davey smiled softly, a complete one-eighty from the angry expression he always wore. “I know that it’s been hard without Jack here, but… you’re doing just fine.”

    Race grinned back. “Thanks, boss.” Before he shut the door, he called back, “You’s not doin’ to bad yourself.”

    And with that, he swept out of the room, off to try and organize some sort of peace with Brooklyn- with a plan in his head and a friendly feeling in his heart.

man I get sprace I need sprace too I think we all need sprace ... but no javey??????????? understandable ig ig but man I love javey ... no hard feelings also writing sprace rn bc of this post ... expect it soon ...

does anyone have any sprace fic recommendations ? i need more sprace content in my life

I had a weird idea based on a typo Imagine newsies but there all cats I call it Mewsies

Jack: Burmese Cat

Davey: Savannah Cat

Cruchie: Ragdoll with 3 legs

Race: Birman

Spot: Siamese Cat

Pulitzer: Persian Cat

Kath: Norwegian Forest Cat

Medda: Maine Coon

If anyone else has any other ideas please add onto it

The requested historical accurate newsies fan art for class! I barely found out anything about how they looked so this could be the biggest lie

Guess who just made historical accurate Newsies fanart for history class!?

As an artist I feel morally obligated to assign newsies characters art equipment

(ALL OF THESE HAVE THOUGHT THROUGH REASONINGS)

Davey: oil paint or aquarell

Jack: Charcoal (to be exact Charcoal pencils)

Crutchie: pastel chalk

Race: digital art

Spot (specifically 1992 spot): oil pastel

Sarah: colored pencils

Our man Denton: lead pencil

Blink: Gouache

Mush: Acrylic

Boots: finger paint

Bumlets: those sand art thingys

Specs: graphic design

Skittery: ink art

Les: crayon

Delancys: AI Art

(Snyder Spider is the paint water you accidentally drink way too often, which gives you a stomach infection and a hospital visit)

Thank you for coming to my ted talk