RALBERT!!!!!! I LOVE RALBERT!!!!!!!

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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.

do care + did ask + im hugging you + im hugging you + im hugging you + im hugging you + im hugging you

newsies but splatoon splatsies if you will

TRUE!!!!! splatoon would absolutely destroy Pulitzer!!!!!!!! he wouldn't stand a CHANCE ...

newsies playing splatoon, however .......

listen I could go ON about their mains and everything but Davey and crutchie play anarchy together and jack sucks actual ass and is rank c- but 100% alterna and katherine consistently asks how they enjoy the game .... my brian worms .... race is x rank btw ... I could go on for hours ....

this is javey

Consider: Autistic Albert DaSilva

Thank you to @kevinandwhizzer for letting me use their notes! Please check out their blog it has amazing art and lots of Albert love

These are just the little things Albert does that lead me to head canon him as being on the spectrum

Albert doesn’t really understand social cues

Taking Race’s cigar out of his mouth

He looks kind of confused when the other Newsies react negatively to “If you can find her”

“I’m just reporting the news.”

He seems to struggle with emotions

His facial expressions are a little slower than the other Newsies, like he’s either observing and acting to fit in or he’s processing the emotion a little later than everyone else

Touch

Lots of unnecessary touching throughout the show (Mainly hits on the shoulder/chest or shaking someone’s shoulder)

He’s also pretty tactile with Romeo in the beginning of The World Will Know

and he holds hands with Crutchie after Morris shoves him

How uncomfortable he looks when Race suddenly grabs him in King of New York 

He seems confused and tired a lot (No I’m not saying all Autistic people are always confused/tired)

There’s always a lot going on, especially during the strike where everything is changing. Which could be really confusing and distressing

Plus the Newsies are really loud, which probably gets overstimulating (idk about you but I get so tired after being overstimulated)

Still doesn’t understand what Race means by “The worlds yer erster” even when it’s cleared up that he meant to say “oyster”

Hyperactive or “fidgety”

Really fidgety and looks kind of uncomfortable while waiting in line. He’s looking around a lot, trying to occupy his hands by adjusting his clothes, and just shifting his weight and moving his body

Constantly adjusting his stance in the scene before The World Will Know (Putting his leg up and down, adjusting his bag, holding on to/letting go of the newscart railing)

All of the different positions he sits in when we first see Jacobi’s, he plays with his hands for a bit

The mouth thing he does before King of New York, along with playing with the stick and his clothes 

Thanks the waiter at Jacobi’s for giving him water even though he picked fun at him 

Lots of Autistic folk have trouble understanding when they’re being made fun of. Albert just knows he’s supposed to say thank you when he’s given something

kevinandwhizzer mentions in their post how they feel like Albert is the type to notice mundane things and that deserves an honorable mention

love your writing! could you do some more for ralbert?

Aaaa thank you!!! I’m so sorry that this took so long, school has been beating me up lately, lol. Enjoy this little bit of rambling!

There’s a crack in the mirror in Albert and Race’s home.

Neither are quite sure how it got there- perhaps a box was dropped onto it during moving and hit the glass a bit too hard, perhaps one of them had bumped into it and just didn’t remember- but it’s been there for as long as the two of them can tell you. It was there when they signed the lease on the house, it was there when they came home one day with a shining bundle of joy in their arms, after years of waiting, and it’ll be there when the time comes to put the mirror away.

When you stand in front of it, your view of your reflection is distorted a bit where the glass has chipped. Right above your heart lies a star-shaped crack, your skin seeming fragile and broken underneath it. Both Albert and Race have looked into this mirror hundreds of times, a quick glance on the way out to run an errand or for several minutes as they laughed at the faces their kids made in it.

Their youngest barely comes up to the crack, a little puncture mark poked into his face when he passes by. He laughs when he sees it, brushing his hand just close enough to feel the groove where the mirror’s broken, smiling at his reflection.

Race has to blink tears from his eyes when he sees this, his beautiful child so happy with what he saw in that glass. Albert isn’t so lucky- he’s always been sentimental anyways. It had taken a long time for the two of them to find that, for their own reflections to not punch a hole through their heart.

Their children won’t ever have to suffer through those long years of waiting before freedom, trapped in the hopeless purgatory of no support before they finally get the courage to stand up. That mirror will never haunt them. Their names will not be a source of pain. They’ll never be afraid to be who they were- both Race and Albert had promised that long before they’d first adopted.

For now, that mirror will distort their children’s faces, hear their giggles as they stick out their tongues at the warped image. As they grow, they’ll fall into the same routine, ignoring that old crack in the glass as they fix their jacket or comb through their hair, the slight bend in light unnoticeable now. Their hearts will break, just like the glass, and be mended together again with some sort of miracle. When they leave their childhood home, that mirror will watch, still the same as ever yet having bore witness to the molding of two human beings, just as it had done before. They’ll come home for holidays and birthdays, funerals and reunions, their fingerprints left on the mirror and wiped off again, like when they were little.

Sooner rather than later, it’ll become no longer useful, and it will sit in a basement or old antique shop, slowly staining and losing its light. It will heave its final, weak breath, the memories made lost to time and decay, to all except those who lived it- those who still dream of the time spent in that house, with that mirror.

That glass may one day be broken, but those men and their family? They never will be.

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.

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.

ur first and last recent emojis are ur gender now. mine is 🅱👨‍❤‍💋‍👨