THIS IS ALSO JATHERINE In The Are You Following Me Scene . You Understand

in light of @newsiesfixation 's newsiesblr casting should I draw myself as Davey and/or anybody else as their respective characters....... lmk ..... dm or ask me if u want me to draw u .....

can i also make the suggestion of the use of #newsiesblr cast for all related matters ... bc ill b using it ... lmk if anybody has any issuesssssss ...

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)

im curious what's the first meme you remember seeing? mine was numa numa

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?"

Introducing your boyfriend to your twin sister who is mean to you 😔

you guys are never gonna guess what this post is

jk it’s more newsies

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?

“Okay, Quintin,” Davey sighs, arms folded at the little tuxy squatting precariously on the ajar door. “I don’t think you’re meant to be up there-“

The kitten’s paw whips forward, batting Davey across the face, and perhaps Jack has been watching too many soaps, because he can’t help his dramatic gasp. Davey only blinks, his glasses now dangling askew from his nose.

“You’ve assaulted me, Quintin.” Davey says flatly. “I will never forget this disrespect.”

Quintin hunkers down in shame, mewing piteously from his perch.

“No, there’s no room for excuses now,” Davey scolds in that same flat tone as he reaches on his tiptoes, his shoulders pulling at the flimsy hem of his work polo. “You are being unreasonable, Quintin. You are making a scene.”

It’s truly, honest to God unfair how well Davey pulls off a shitty work polo.

Quintin squirms on the thin line of the door, still not wanting to come down but growing more and more aware that he is a very wobbly kitten on a very small surface. He mews irritably, if only to prove he can, and Davey tuts his tongue against his teeth. He slides a hand under Quintin’s soft white belly and pulls him down in one slow and fluid motion, cradling the little thing to his chest as Quintin meows furiously.

“Right, then,” he mutters in a faraway monotone, as if his consciousness has left the human world in order to communicate with this very bad-tempered kitten. “To jail with you, young man – no, no, I shan’t hear it-"

Jack can only watch as he drags Quintin’s yowling little self back to the cattery, rambling nonsense while a kitten squirms and whines in his arms. Jack swallows, bracing one arm against the desk.

Davey may be the first man in all of history to make the word “shan’t” sound sexy.

hello again mr pigeon 'pidge' wit i come to u with a writing req ....... no pressure to write obviously!!!!

but consider ur shitface drunk davey w jack (potentially friends too) at a restaurant ... javey aren't together at this point ... but davey is just a little too drunk and ends up pretty much lying with his head on jacks lap ... cue 'jack, I don't wanna go all the way home all by myself ....... can I come home with you?' and jack being the smitten pushover he is of course lets David 'Lightweight' Jacobs sleep in his bed with him ...

davey wakes up has no recollection of what happened and is SO concerned when he wakes up in jacks bed - jack is shirtless - and oh lord he's SO hungover .... anyway ...

consider also jack waking up and saying 'hey beautiful' and Davey short circuiting and jack shrugging and saying 'well u seemed to like it just fine last night'

sorry for the long af ask but this????? in your writing style!!!!! I would shit myself /pos

roman i have had this in my inbox for so long cause i want to write this so goddamn badly but alas uni is killing me, so that's probably not gonna happen for a while. BUT! i do have little snippets for your convenience, because again, this idea was so fun and i wanted to write it so so badly. hope these can tide you over:

“Davey,” Jack says, far more charmed than he should be, because he is pathetic, “maybe you oughta take a break for a bit, you’re-”

“Don’t worry yourself, handsome,” Davey winks, and Jack immediately feels his stomach drop. They have entered Flirty Drunk Davey, which means Jack is going to be of no help for the entire evening. “I’m a big boy, I can make my own decisions, and I’m deciding to get sloshed tonight.” He drums his hands on the table as he gets up and shoots Jack a finger-gun as he stumbles only slightly. “Livin’ la vida loca!”

Oh, Jack is a sad man. Jack is a weak, pathetic little man who is in love with someone that just said livin’ la vida loca unironically. Jack is a sad, sad man.

[…]

“And iguanodons,” Davey says quite seriously, with one finger raised like a very wobbly professor,“iguanodons, they walk like – like this…”

He shapes each of his hands into three-toed points and leans forward to plant them on the floor.

“Oh, no-” Jack says quickly, taking his wrists and gently pulling him upright. “No, Davey, that’s okay, don’t – don’t crawl on the floor, pal.”

Davey looks at him with the largest eyes Jack’s ever seen in his life.

“But that’s how iguanodons walk…” He says plaintively, like Jack is a monster who is stifling a very important display of science, and Jack is so pathetically gone for him that he’s almost tempted to say, ‘I’m sorry Davey, by all means crawl around on the floor like a dinosaur, I love you so much.’ Christ, he needs to skip town, go somewhere so repressed he’ll never even think about feelings again without curling up and dying of shame. Britain, maybe. Or wherever the Amish live.

“I know, bud,” Jack soothes, rubbing a hand down his back. “You, uh – you just show me later, okay? We’re going inside now.”

[…]

Right. Right. Breathe. Facts. That’s what Davey needs. Facts.

Fact one: he is currently in Jack’s bed, in Jack’s sweatpants.

Fact two: he cannot remember how he got into either Jack’s bed or Jack’s sweatpants.

Fact three: Jack is making pancakes. Shirtless. With a bit of batter stuck to his collarbone that Davey really wants to lick.

(Fact three, subheading: Davey might still be a little bit drunk)

Conclusion: Davey had literally mind-blowing sex last night while more drunk than a Baltic tide and has thus not only ruined the best friendship he’s ever had, but can’t even reminisce over the memory of it to soothe the wound. Fantastic.

okay so this is that self indulgent javey oneshot ...

it gets an eeny bit spicy towards the end but it's like only a little bit ...

consider this my bday gift to you guys !

Jack and David didn't realise it had gotten dark out until they could see their reflections clearly in the windows.

They weren't alone, of course, many other late night studiers still sat at their own desks, but Jack and Davey were lucky to be separated from most others by some rows of bookshelves.

And in the mellow lights from overhead, Davey's unkempt curls made shadows on his face, illuminating and accentuating his high cheekbones, sun-kissed freckles and roman nose. Jack watched the way his long fingers glided across the pages of his textbook, occasionally dropping to the desk to pick up a highlighter. Jack watched the way his eyebrows drew together as he reread a passage, the way his cool blue eyes blinked a few times.

God, he was inconceivably pretty. Jack is a very lucky man.

Davey glanced up at Jack, once quickly, as if to check what Jack was doing, then again, realising Jack's eyes were already on him.

Davey shot him a questioning look and a smile, and Jack grinned back. He watched Davey's tongue as it swiped across his beautiful soft lips, and watched those elegant fingers tuck a stray curl behind his ear. Watched as he parted his lips slightly, to sigh, resting his head on his hands, gazing at Jack.

God, what Jack wouldn't give to have his lips on Davey's right about now. It was a never-fail remedy after a long day.

Davey must have read Jack's mind, because he smiled, that downward-pointed smile that Jack loved and Davey hated, and stood, waiting expectantly. Jack stood too, wincing as the squeak of his chair echoed in the near-silent room.

He let Davey take his hand and lead him into an aisle of books- philosophy, judging from the covers.

See, their university was very old. Solid-oak-wood-shelves type old. So solid, in fact, that the only noise was a quiet 'oof!' as Davey turned, his back against a shelf, grabbed Jack's collar, and pulled him in close.

'Hey.' Davey whispered, smiling coyly.

'Hey.' Jack replied, feeling blush heat his cheeks. 'God, you're beautiful.'

Davey circled his fingers on Jack's shoulder, whisper-giggling. God, talk about seductive.

Jack let one hand rest on Davey's hip, the other on his cheek, and gently connected their lips. Electricity flowed through him, like it was their first kiss all over again. Davey smiled, pulling Jack impossibly closer as he opened his mouth, giving Jack's tongue entrance. Jack gladly obliged, running his tongue over the inside of the mouth he knew so well. He sighed happily against Davey's mouth, moving both hands down to the other boy's hips.

When Jack pulled away for breath, he took great care in memorising every detail of Davey's face. His lips, now teasing a new, slightly bruised look. His nose and cheeks, dusted pink. His eyes, storm-blue and horribly sparkly. His pupils, blown wide.

Jack lifted one hand just inside Davey's shirt, dragging his thumb over the jut of his hip-bone, revelling in the way Davey seemed to vibrate at the feeling.

'God, you're...' Jack whispered, unable to find the right words. 'Just incredible.'

'You too.' Davey sighed more than said. He gazed dreamily at Jack, making his heart skip a beat. 'Tu es plus beau que le soleil... j'ai besoin de toi.' Davey murmured, moving a hand to play with Jack's bottom lip.

'Fuck, Dave...' Jack whispered. 'You can't just talk to me like that.'

'Like what?' Davey asked innocently, snaking his arms around Jack's shoulders. 'Comme ça?'

'You know I think it's sexy.' Jack groaned, dropping his head into the crook of Davey's shoulder.

'Tu es adorable, mon amour.' Davey whispered in the most silky tone Jack had ever heard. 'Tu aimes quand je parle comme ça, n'est-ce pas?'

Jack had no idea what Davey could possibly be saying, but man oh man was it doing a number on him. And his dick. And it sure did not go unnoticed, seeing as Jack had pulled his hips flush to Davey's at some point.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Davey's mouth. 'Ah chérie, tu es déjà excitée?' Aha. Jack knew that one. Excitée. Horny. 'Juste d'après mes mots?' Davey took on a more teasing tone, which only turned Jack on more. 'Oh, mon beau garçon.'

'Oui.' Jack grunted, letting Davey rub his back, almost sympathetically. And Davey had the audacity to giggle, and it was just about the most sultry giggle Jack had heard from him.

'Dave.' Jack tried to sound stern, but it came out more pleading. 'Gimme a break.'

Davey leaned in close to Jack's ear, and whispered, obviously now trying (and succeeding, the little bitch) to sound seductive, 'Non, pas pour toi, mon amour.'

Jack physically couldn't contain it. He ground his hips up, into Davey's, slowly and needily. Davey gasped quietly, not expecting the sensation.

'Jack!' He sounded scandalised. 'We are in a library!'

'Oh, and the library was just fine when you were talking dirty to me in French?' Jack snapped back playfully.

'I was not talking dirty!' Davey placed a hand on his chest defensively. 'I had no idea it was having an effect on you!'

Jack looked pointedly down at his now obvious boner, pressed against Davey. Davey snorted. 'Okay, well, that is not my fault.'

'It is so your fault.' Jack frowned. 'Can we get out of here?'

'Only if you use my textbook to hide your situation.'

'Oh, you asshole. You're about to have your own situation.'

'Can I have my situation at home?'

'You asshole.'

Davey shrugged. 'At least I have a situation that's under control.'

'Say sorry. Right now. Or I'm taking care of my situation, right here right now.'

'Jesus!' Davey held his hands up placatingly. 'I'm sorry. .... Mon amour.'

'You ass.'