“once And For All We Won’t Carry No Banners That Don’t Spell Freedom” Might Be The Craziest Lyric

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.'

“Oh boy am I glad that silly weird Ralbert ship is finally gone from my dashboard hah I’m so gla-F u c k”

The fact,,, that there was so much discourse around this silly lil ship is still so funny to me. But anyways have some more gangly freckled boyfriends. I love them a lot.

fuck dude I'm so sad tn . anyway jack doesn't know how to grieve ... both his parents died when he was too young to grieve ... he didn't understand that was how it worked yet . when jack lost his father, he just kept moving ... that's what he always told him to do. 'don't worry, my boy, don't worry. just keep moving. never stop moving, boy. you hear me?'

jack keeps moving. he moves and moves and moves until Davey stops him like a brick wall. one night, davey hugs him just right and jack dissolves. all of a sudden, davey feels tears soaking through his shirt, and feels jack sob. he hugs jack tighter . everything rushes back to jack. the warmth of his little bedroom, his dad's cooking. he never knew his mom, but his dad was better than jack thinks a mom could have ever been.

all of a sudden, jack realises that his father is gone. forever. he died almost 9 years ago.

and fuck, jack never stopped moving for long enough to realise.

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.

does anyone see my vision?

you should watch 92sies :) /nf

RAHHH I WANT TO!!!!!!! but I keep like putting it off... like I wanna watch it SO BAD but it's sooooo much EFFORT yk....... ty anon!!!!!

newsies mutuals we should play among us sometime

Race once witnessed crutchie break spaghetti before putting it in a pot, and later that day Crutchie found a mildly threatening, tear-stained note on his bed.

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."