You'd Think Albert Would Listen To Grunge But You Would Be So Wrong .... He's Such A Sucker For Classical

my 2 gay sons

davey calling his parents mama and papa is so sweet to me .... my son .... my baby boy ....

Hey.... bad news... yeah, they got ahold of your found family... yeah, they're assigning them nuclear familial titles... yeah, I don't think they know that's not the point... I know, I know. Sorry man, nothing I can do about it now.

javey oneshot !

modern au, davey crutchie and jack are roommates, javey first kiss, 1.2k words, fluff?? idk how to tag fics ... enjoy :] ...

Jack and Crutchie were playing cards when Davey clomped into the room, gently placing his sax case on the vacant bottom bunk in the room before loosening his tie and unceremoniously dropping his school bag near his sax.

'What's got you so exhausted, Davey?' Crutchie asked, playing a 3 of clubs.

'You seen my exam timetable?' Davey grouched, loosening his tie further and swiping a hand through his hair. 'On top of that, band commitments for prefect assembly, AND quartet wants to get into this one gig... it's so full of shit.'

Jack played a 7 of clubs, trying to pretend to be focussed on anything but Davey's loose collar and tousled hair as he leant against the wall and checked his phone.

'... just drop the ass subjects then.' Crutchie was saying, playing an ace. 'Sorry, Jack.'

Jack groaned. Davey continued, 'I can't just drop all my sciences! My mother would kill me!'

'Least you got a mother.' Crutchie shrugged. Jack snorted, picking up the deck and shuffling. Crutchie continued, 'Some of us ain't so lucky.'

Jack snuck a glance at Davey while he shuffled, and fumbled, dropping all of the cards when Davey tilted his head back, sighing. He heard Crutchie suppress a laugh and threw a cushion at him.

'Jack, what do you think?' Davey looked at Jack through half-lidded eyes, head still tilted back. 'Surely I don't drop physics...'

Jack cleared his throat quickly, shoving the cards back into the case as Crutchie snorted again. 'Uh.. why? Like, why do you wants to drop it?'

'I just explained this.' Davey rolled his eyes playfully. 'Physics is so content-heavy that I can't keep up with my other subjects. So I might drop it. Then, I would have a free period at the same times as you and Crutchie too.'

'Yeah, drop it.' Jack said coolly, and suavely, and so chill-ly, in fact, that he could even hold eye contact with Davey's big, beautiful, glowing brown eyes for more than 0.183 of a second. Progress.

Crutchie pulled out his phone, evidently bored by the conversation Jack was leading so well.

'Oh goodness, I have to go to the toilet,' Crutchie said, lying horribly. 'I'll have to leave you two suckers to it.' He stood, grabbed his crutch, and was out the door without another word.

Davey took the new free spot on Jack's bed, and crashed down, slumping backwards.

'Jackie, I'm so fuckin tired.' He murmured, voice suddenly gravelly now that Crutchie had gone. Jack felt butterflies course through him at the nickname.

'Sleep, then.' Jack shrugged. 'It's, what, 11pm?'

'Yeah, but...' Davey sighed. 'I wanna stay up and talk to you. Haven't seen you all day.'

'Oh.' Jack's voice cracked, and he immediately curled in on himself. Davey laughed, loudly and long, and it almost made Jack feel better. Almost.

'Aw, Jack.' Davey laughed, wiping tears from his eyes, noticing Jack's frown. 'It's fine. It was funny.'

'Embarrassing.' Jack muttered, dropping his face into his hands.

'Nooo..' Davey said half-heartedly. 'It was very funny, though. I think I needed that after today.'

Jack looked at Davey's rosey cheeks, at his soft smile and his dimples, at his ruffled hair, and at his big eyes, and at his loosened shirt, and god he looked beautiful. Crutchie wasn't there, it was just him and Davey sitting on his bed. In silence. Awkward silence. As Davey looked back at Jack with his eyebrows drawn together slightly in confusion. Fuck.

Jack looked away, and felt his cheeks and ears warming.

Davey's gentle voice sounded from behind him. 'Jack, what's wrong?' He felt Davey's eyes on the back of his head, heard the concern seeping into his voice.

'Fine.' Jack muttered, mad at himself.

'No, you're not.' Jack felt a hand on his shoulder, felt that hand turn him around til he was facing Davey again. Davey, who was about one foot from his face. 'What's wrong?'

'I just...' Jack sighed, his eyes falling to his knees. 'I dunno.'

'You know. You can tell me. Whatever it is, it cannot possibly affect our friendship.'

'Oh, it can.' Jack laughed drily, shrugging Davey's hand off his shoulder.

'Stop being emo.' Davey frowned. 'Tell me. Tell me or I'll tell Crutchie that you cried.'

'I'm not crying!' Jack cried indignantly.

'It'll be your word against mine.' Davey shrugged, smirking. 'Now hurry up and tell me so I can go shower.'

Jack sighed. Might as well bite the bullet.

'I... uh...' He squeezed his eyes shut. 'I want to kiss you. Real bad.'

Silence. Jack grimaced.

He felt Davey's hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes a smidge, to see Davey's face, inches from his. Smiling.

'Figured that was the case.' Davey brought his other hand to the back of Jack's head. 'Might as well indulge you a little, huh?'

And Davey connected his lips with Jack's. Jack, too shocked to kiss back, eyes now wide open, as Davey pulled away. He chuckled at Jack's spellbound expression, frozen as he tried to take in what happened.

'No?' He asked, grinning.

Jack blinked, once, twice, and then grabbed Davey's face and pulled him right back in again. Davey's lips felt like electricity against Jack's, moving in a perfect rhythm. When Davey pulled apart for breath, Jack stayed close, pressing their foreheads together. He laughed breathlessly, incredulously.

'You wanted that, I take it?' Davey smiled.

'So much.' Jack agreed, connecting their lips again.

Jack was halfway through pushing Davey back down onto his pillows when they heard the clack of their key in the lock, and hadn't quite gotten a last taste fast enough for Crutchie to open the door, close it behind him, and take in the sight. The sight, that is, of Davey, lying down in Jack's bed, still with his shoes on, frantically pushing Jack away, and Jack straddling Davey, looking like a deer in headlights, wide eyed, staring at Crutchie like he was some kind of horror.

'Welcome back!' Davey said cheerfully, not making an effort to move. 'Told you this would happen.'

'Man, I thought he wouldn't. I thought he wouldn't so much that I came back early.' Crutchie replied casually, kicking off his slides.

Jack looked frantically between Crutchie and Davey. 'This was planned??'

'You think it wasn't obvious how bad you wanted Davey to kiss you?' Crutchie snorted. 'Even Davey knew. And Davey's dense.'

'You shut your mouth.' Davey replied sharply. 'I wanted it too.'

'That was just as crystal fucking clear.' Crutchie made his way over to his bed. 'You know how unbearable it is rooming with you two?'

Davey tapped Jack's thigh, and Jack moved quickly, realising he was still on top of Dave. Davey got up unceremoniously, casting a longing glance back at Jack, as if it was a woe to be away from him for this long. He lumbered his way over to his bed, fishing out his toiletry bag, towel, clothes and his wallet. He opened his wallet, held it out expectantly to Crutchie, who begrudginly dropped a few coins in.

'I'm gonna shower, lads.' He announced, grabbing his phone and left without anything else besides another glance at Jack.

Once the door was safely closed, Jack snapped his head towards Crutchie. 'That was a fucking BET?'

promising myself im gonna be active on here fr (i wont)

If you're reading this...

go write three sentences on your current writing project.

welcome to the newsies multiverse. you are now entering MEWSIES

Peace and love

here is your daily reminder that Racetrack Higgins is on no accounts stupid.

It's a pretty common thing to see Race as the dumbass of the group, comedic relief or generally not taken seriously. Don't get me wrong- Race is a hot mess. But he's a smart hot mess.

You think Jack was leading the strategy of Manhattan? I love Jack but you saw him organising and strategising the strike -he was struggling. Yet Manhattan is still one of the more powerful cities, how? Race.

Race who figured out how to manipulate his way into Spot Colon's good graces so he could worm his way into a selling spot at the sheepshead races -guaranteed foot traffic, plus idiots who are either winning money or think they will. They can and will spare a penny for a paper. That is a good spot. One of the better ones in the city.

And you think Race is unaware of that? NO. He did that entirely on purpose. He knows Brooklyn's economy is doing a little better than Manhattans, he knows the factors of a good spot and he knows the angles he can offer.

Race is often known for winning every game thrown at him, you think he can do that without strategy? People who don't characterise him as smart are blatantly mischaracterising him.

Race wants to be known as dumb. He wants to be underestimated. It gives him infinitely better odds. Nobody pays attention to the 'dumb twink with no common sense' they turn their heads towards heavy hitters like Spot. He plays it up, he knows damn well what he's doing but he does it anyways.

Usually it's fun and he gets a kick out of the adrenaline. But the best part is people dismiss him. And Race is always playing the long game.

So anyways this has been your PSA that Racetrack Higgins is in fact smart and incredibly strategic.