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Ralbert - Blog Posts
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.
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.
You are my favorite Ralbert person, so I present to you the song “Strawberry Wine” by Noah Kahan from Albert’s perspective on Race :)
OH ANON YOU ARE SO SO SO CORRECT...
im listening to this song for the first time ever right now, and you're so right ... im imagining Albert singing this in his apartment, and race hearing it through his floor and fantasising about it being about him ...
shitty lil ralbert drawing i did in chemistry today instead of learning about spdf orbitals ‼️
WIP Weather Ask Game
Inspired by the random thunderstorm that just popped up out of nowhere. Enjoy.
💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written?
❄️ Snow - Who is your coldest / most stoic character and how do they express themselves (if at all)?
🌨 Sleet - What's the most you've ever written in one sitting?
☀️ Sun - What's your favorite part of your WIP?
🌫 Fog - What was the hardest part of your WIP to write?
🌬 Wind - What was the easiest part of your WIP to write?
🌪 Tornado - Who is your most impulsive character and why?
🔥 Wildfire - Who is your most emotional character and why?
🌌 Clear Skies - How long have you been writing your current WIP?
☁️ Cloudy - What inspired you to start writing your WIP? (or in general)
⚡️Lightning - Have you ever spontaneously added something to your story that you wouldn't have added normally? If so, what made you do it?
🪹 Drought - What do you do to help with Writer's Block?
💦 Flood - How many WIPs do you have?
🏝 Hurricane - Do you often stick to one WIP and finish it, then move on, or do you bounce between WIPs?
🪨 Landslide - Which WIP has the most worldbuilding?
⛰ Earthquake - Which WIP has the least worldbuilding?
🌊 Tsunami - When and where do you like to write?
🌋 Volcanic Eruption - What's your biggest flaw as a writer?
🌈 Rainbow - What do you think makes your story unique / stand out?
🌙 Eclipse - What's the most common / reoccurring theme of your WIP(s)?
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?
it's slowly coming together, everyone ...... I haven't forgotten y'all I promise .... it's just taking a while to actually write and set up and logisticize and everything .... plus i SHOULD be getting an ao3 account on feb 21st so im hoping to post there :)
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.
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