Experience Tumblr Like Never Before
Newsies Broadway - Blog Posts
can someone explain to me how they got the idea to make jack an artist in livesies, like seriously it is never at all mentioned in 92sies that he paints, only that he wants a better life
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 :)
If I wrote something about your amputee Jack would you want to read it?
YESS OMFG!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMFG OMGG YES ANON PLEADE PLEASR PLEADE
headcanon that there's HEAPS of spare beds in the lodging house but the newsies just choose to sleep in the same beds hit post
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.
give me amputee jack. jack who got his hand mangled by a printing press and his father used the last of his money to get him to a hospital. jack has a stump at the middle of his forearm . jack sells more papers not only because he's charismatic but also because his shirt sleeve has a knot tied in it where his left hand would be. jack and crutchie who meet and become close because of their physical ailments.
davey jacobs keyed his ex's car. davey jacobs texts that ex begging for them to come back every once in a while. davey gets really drunk those nights. davey jacobs is unhealthy. don't let the proper academic shell fool you. davey jacobs is a mess. can davey jacobs understand complex nuances in literature? can he do university-level physics? yes. davey jacobs is smart, but he's certainly not much else, at least in his own eyes.
writing drabbles isn't enough I need to SEE the characters do the things
would david jacobs smoke
(pot or cigarettes you decide)
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.
guyssssss...... I think chapter one is nearly ready to be published........ here's a small taster teehee!!!!!
'I'm gonna make you the best omelette you've ever tasted, David. Just give me a few minutes to get some cheese from my apartment. Mull over that equation, or something. I'll be right back.’
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!!
shitty lil ralbert drawing i did in chemistry today instead of learning about spdf orbitals ‼️
new javey think just dropped!! (cw for mention of sh scars!!!)
Davey needs a breath of fresh air.
He travels up to the roof of the building, taking the stairs instead of the elevator becuase the last thing he wants right now is to feel nauseous.
His chest feels tight, his eyes are sore.
Maybe it's not worth it.
He reaches the roof, opening the door and feeling the cool breeze on his wet cheeks as he glanced around.
He sees another figure on the roof- he's not alone.
Who else would be out here at this time of night?
When Jack hears the door to the roof open, he turns. He doesn’t whip around in surprise, he's far too tired. He turns, almost lethargically.
The figure has the same curls and chiseled nose as David Jacobs. Even in the dark of the night, it's clear he’s been crying. His shoulders are drawn up near his ears and his hands are wringing an invisible towel, trembling slightly.
His voice carries on the wind: ‘Jack?’
He replies, hoping his voice carries the same way: ‘David?’
It's like a Western standoff. The moon slinks behind a cloud. The stars toss beautiful shadows across Davey’s cheeks, shiny with tears.
‘Come here.’ Jack says softly, gesturing to the view. ‘Look.’
Davey begins to walk over, stumbling a little over his own feet. He looks out at the view- it's beautiful. Windows shine like stars, cars flow on the streets like rivers of lights and electricity. Electricity flows through Davey’s veins. Jack’s shoulder touches his.
The sleeves of Jack’s hoodie are drawn up, and his hands dangle over the edge of the building. Constellations of scars and freckles litter his arms. The scars: methodical, patterned, they are buildings, they are cars. The freckles: tossed haphazardly across Jack’s skin, they are dappled light, they are stars.
Davey always had a bit of a thing about stars.
‘Are you alright, Dave?’ Jack asks the city skyline.
'I'm…’ Davey sighs towards the bank building. ‘I’m alright. Better now that I’m chatting to you. Better now that I’m getting some fresh air.’
Jack hums, slipping a hand around Davey’s shoulders.
‘The city’s beautiful at night, iddnit?’
‘It reminds me of you.’
why is he actually so ethereal
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.
ben fankhauser as davey jacobs is so gay coded btw... he's a HOMO!!!!!!!
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
race with a bridge piercing. yea that's it that all
LAST POLL FOR AU PLS DO IT :3
second last one....... (for apartment au!!)
aaaaaaanother poll it will b over soon
MORE BIRTHDAY POLL!
what should jack's bday be in my apartment au??