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i-write-newsies · 3 years

Text

A/N:

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(D/N) - DEEZ NUTS!! /j Deadname

(E/C) - Eye Color

(H/L) - Hair Length

(Y/A) - Your Age

Ships Included:

- Jack x Davey

- Spot x Race

- Finch x Smalls (Platonic)

- Albert x Elmer

-Katherine x Sarah

- Spot x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

- Race x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

Summary:

You have always dreamed of living in the world of your favorite characters, to escape from whatever rotten life you have and make friends with the people you love. One day, fate decides to give you a chance. But when you're not prepared to be rushed into that universe, it becomes a roller coaster of balancing good and bad emotions and events.

Good luck, Reader!

!!TW!!

~ SELF HARM

~ TRANSPHOBIA

~ MAJOR INJURY

~ ABUSE

~ ARGUING

(Y/N) POV:

I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I'm (Y/A) with (E/C) eyes and (H/L) (H/C) hair. At least it used to be (H/L). I cut it all off today. I can tell my mom just found out because of the loud cursing and stomping. "GODDAMMIT, (D/N)!!" she yells. What scares me the most about this situation is the fact that I'm kinda used to this. I hear her coming up the stairs to my room and rush to the door and lock it. As expected, the door handle starts rattling violently, "(D/N) YOU LET ME IN RIGHT NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SH!T!" She starts banging on the door, stressing the lock.

I sigh. Today was one of the worse days. I slip on my noise-canceling headphones and press play on my musicals playlist, consisting of:

- Waving Through A Window

- On My Own

- A Little Fall Of Rain

- Angel of Music

and of course...

The entire Newsies soundtrack.

By the time I get to 'Seize the Day', it's twilight outside. I lift one of my headphones to check if my mom is gone. I hear nothing. I look out the window and don't see her car. Perfect.

Unplugging my headphones and letting the music play, I walk over to my dresser, open it up, and reach deep in the back. Aha!

I pull out some bandages (A/N: DO NOT ACTUALLY BIND LIKE THIS OK BYE). I take off my shirt and try not to look in my mirror, fearing what sort of feminine body I may see. I start wrapping my chest to the point that it gets a little hard to breathe. This kinda hurts, but my dysphoria is stronger than my need for comfort and, let's be honest, safety.

Slipping my shirt back on, I look into the mirror and smile, satisfied with my flat chest and somewhat choppy short, (H/C) hair. I jump onto my bed and plug my headphones back into my phone which is now playing Santa Fe. Santa Fe honestly makes me think. I'm only, what, (Y/A)? And I still go through all this BS. I need out. Somewhere my mom can't tell me I'm female. Somewhere like...Newsies. I mean, Race is canonically trans, right? Not to mention all of them are definitely fruity. They'd accept me. The fresh, bandaged cuts on my arms are the only things keeping me in reality right now

As the song ends, I realize that I've been crying. God, why am I stuck in this wretched place? The question as well as thoughts of Newsies reverberates in my skull, a sort of white noise until I fall into a much-needed sleep.

"Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?"

"Especially in a place this..."

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Jack POV:

I yawn, rubbing sleep from my eyes as the circulation bell drones on an' on. I let my eyes adjust to the view of the sunrise from my penthouse in the sky.

As I try to get up to get ready, a pair of arms drag me back down. "Jackieeee" a half-awake Davey groans, "come back down, it's freezing up here." "Dave, we gotta get to work. The boys can always count on me being at the gates early, so if you don't get up, I'm leaving you behind." This seems to wake him up a little more, "Alright, alright fine." he shivers as he gets up. I throw him his top shirt and vest and he desperately claws them on to gain warmth. Carefully, we climb down the ladder.

"What'd I tell ya, Dave? Even in the middle of summer, the night's always freezing." Davey rolls his eyes and does a little shiver "I know, Jackie, now c'mere and warm me up" I grin and move in closer, holding his hand, as we start walking to the gates. "Still not warm enough!" Davey said in a singsong-ish voice. I sigh and feign annoyance, leaning in to give a short but sweet peck on the lips. I think he's satisfied now. We're not usually this lovey-dovey, but I think we're both touch starved and subtly begging for a hug.

Davey, being the amazing boyfriend he is, stops by Jacobis to get us some breakfast. "Dave, you really don't hafta-" "I insist, Jack. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he says in an almost snobbish voice. I give him a small smile. That's my smartass Dave.

As we get to the gates, I notice a small figure leaned up against it. By now, the sun has come up some more over Manhattan 'n Dave 'n I don't have to walk as close to warm ourselves up. The figure seems to be sleeping, a newsies cap over their eyes. I think it's a kid. Maybe a new newsie looking for work?

I crouch down in front of him lift his hat, and start tapping his shoulder, "Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?" "Especially in a place this..." Davey notes. The kid seems to wake with a start. He rubs his eyes, and I chuckle a little "Whatsa matter? Ya look like youse seen a ghost." He doesn't seem to find this funny and repeatedly switches from looking at me then Davey with some confusion and shock in his eyes.

"I um-" he stutters over his words, "Aye, aye, kid, calm down, you ain't in trouble or nuttin." He takes a few deep breaths. "Okay... I'm (Y/N). I'm just freaking out because This isn't where I fell asleep, and- and I just- feel like I know you..." "Well, (Y/N) it sounds like you're one of da Newsies now," I say with a grin, "Now, we gots ta give you a nickname, we rarely eva call someone by their real name, 'cept Dave 'n Albert of course," The kid stays silent, clearly still shocked from waking up in a foreign place. "I feel like I know you.." he says, barely discernible. "Maybe ya do, maybe ya don't, Dave here's the only one good with faces." The kid looks up at Davey, who seems deep in thought, "(N/N)" he exclaims, "Ah, sorry, what I meant was your nickname should be (N/N)!" "I like it! But why (N/N) exactly?" I question, "Well, *insert reason why here*" "Well ain't you a clever boy, Dave!" I say, ruffling his hair. Davey shies away, "Jack! Now I have to fix my hair!" he complains, "Sorry, sorry." Davey then leaves to fix his hair in front of a shop window nearby, leaving me and (N/N) alone.

(N/N) seems to want to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he shuts it just as quickly. I try to fill the awkward silence, "So, what's wit' da bandages, kiddo?" He freezes, "Nothing, just a ploy to get people to buy more papes..." he trails off. I have a feelin' he's not tellin' the truth, but I go along with it anyway, "Ha! What an idea, I wonder how I neva thought a' that before." he smiles, seeming satisfied with the praise. Davey returns from the shop window, "Alright! Ready to start the day?" (N/N) nods, and so do I.

Newsies start gathering, some glancing at (N/N) and some anxiously peering through the gates. I look at the headline for today: New Newsie Price! "Aye, Dave, you seein' this shit?" "Language- and yeah... what in the world was runnin' through Pulitzer's head when he thought of this??" I look at (N/N), whose mouth is a thin, pale line but whose (E/C) eyes are glinting with determination. "Heh, kid, what's that look for?" He looks at me, a little startled, but quickly regains that same tough expression, "I have a feeling that this ain't some silly little joke. And I'm worried 'bout the kids that may get hurt in the crossfire." I laugh, "Youse just bein dramatic! Surely, they wouldn't be as dumb as to underpay their own employees." I walk over to Weasel and slap down a penny "100 papes please!" "That's gonna be dime, Kelly."

My heart almost stops, and it takes all my strength not to break down in front of the boys. I fake a laugh, "Surely you're joking." "100 papes costs a dime, take a look at the headline." I hit the money box out of anger, "Then we'll just take our business to Brooklyn." Someone pipes up, "The same thing's happenin' there." "Then we'll go to Rushing!" Specs jogs over, seemingly out of breath, "I'll save ya the walk; it's the same everywhere."

Fuck.

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Y/N POV:

A sharp pain in my chest temporarily distracts me from the situation at hand. Ah. I almost forgot. I still have to bind. This sucks. I feel a pair of eyes on me and turn just in time to see Racetrack Higgins avert his eyes. I give him a confused look and turn back to Jack singing "The World Will Know" I forget all about his weird staring and get back into the determined beat from before.

Soon, the newsies and I make our way to Jacobis for some...water I guess? I do happen to have some extra money in my pocket so I think I can treat all the boys to some seltzer. I sit down on a hard wooden chair in a slouch. The room is buzzing with excited talk of the strike. I give a small, sad smile. These boys have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Crutchie sits next to me serving a wide smile just as Jacobi enters with a tray full of waters, "And here's one for you, and for you, and for you- who's the big spender that ordered everyone seltzer?" shyly, I raise my hand, "That's me, sir." "You know these cost a quarter each, right?" I pull out a handful of quarters with a cheeky smile "and I got more where that came from." The boys go wild, "Where did ya get all that money, kid??" Davey, being the concerned mom, asks "Please tell me you didn't steal that." I shake my head, "I used to live comfortably, but my mom kicked me out for...reasons." my grin falters for a second, but no one seems to notice.

"Well!" Jack stands on a table, "Here's to the strike! And, of course, (N/N)" He gestures towards me with a wink as everyone cheers. As Katherine enters, I start to zone out and stare at a speck of dust on the ground. After all, I know the plot all too well. I perk up, though, as soon as Jack asks who's goin' to Brooklyn. My hand shoots up, "I nominate me and Race!" I exclaim. I look over at Race, who's staring at me, blushing and jaw dropped a little. I grin at him and look back at Jack, who's a little shocked. "A-alright! Me and Dave'll take the Bronx, I guess."

*Timeskip to after the restaurant scene*

I walk down the Manhatten alleys blindly, no clue where I'm going, when I hear someone come up behind me. "Hey, (N/N)! It's me, Race." I smile weakly, "Oh, hey." "I always sell my papes at Sheepshead in Brooklyn, so I know where to go."

It's almost completely silent except for the clicking of our shoes on the paved roads. "So... how'd ya get here as a Newsie, (N/N)?" "Well, Jack 'n Davey found me sleepin' on the street just this mornin'" He laughs, "Wow! So you got used to the Newsie life real quick!" "Yeah, I did.." I let out a small chuckle as well. Race pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his lips and goes to light it but hesitates. "Uh- Wanna cigar?" "Wow, Racetrack Higgins giving me one of his own cigars? I'm flattered!" I joke, "But, yeah, I need smoke." He digs into his pocket and hands me another cigar, "You eva' smoked before?" he stares at me as I put the cigar in between my lips. I grin sheepishly, "No." "Okay, maybe we should stop for a second. Coughing while walking ain't the most fun thing in the woild."

We lean up against a wall as Race lights first his, then my cigar. I inhale and immediately spiral into a coughing fit. Race smacks my back, "You good, (N/N)? I ain't neva' seen a fella cough that hard on the first puff." I roll my tear-filled eyes and continue coughing.

Once my coughing fit subsides, I feel a wave of relaxation. "God I should do this more often." I groan, Race grins, "Yeah, once you get past the whole blowin'-your-brains-out part of smokin', it's real nice. Anyway, shall we continue?" he gestures to the streets ahead. I nod my head and take another puff, "Yeah, it's gettin' kinda late and we do NOT wanna wake up the Spot Conlon." Race nods in agreement and we hurry along. Even though I know Spot is kind of a softie, that doesn't stop me from being intimidated by his prowess.

We reach the Brooklyn lodging just as Race's cigar burned out. Race takes a deep breath and gives three solid knocks on the door. A kid younger than me answers the door, "State ya business" "I'm here to let Conlon know about some very important news." The kid squints his eyes but responds "I'll ask him if he's willing to meet with anyone right now. Who should I tell him is askin'?" "Race. Higgins." He says somewhat awkwardly.

The kid closes the door. Race and I stand quietly waiting for the OK to see Spot. Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Spot. "Ra-" he notices me and coughs, "I mean- Higgins, would you like to step in to discuss the important news?" I almost laugh at the way he went from totally in love to distinguished gentleman. I shoo them away, holding in laughter, "don't worry, I'll wait out here and give you lovebirds some space." (A/N: or should I say sprace) I see them both go tomato red.

I sigh as they head inside. I take a drag from the cigar and start thinking. How did I end up in the newsies universe and act this calm about it? This feels so surreal. But I want to stay here forever. Far away from my sh!tty mom and all my responsibilities.

Lost in my own head, I barely notice as Racetrack storms out of the lodging, clearly pissed. "C'mon (N/N), we're leaving." he grabs my hand and angrily powerwalks to the next street over. Once we're there, he lets go of my hand and sighs harshly, walking slow. "I assume it didn't go well?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Not. Well." "Wanna talk about it?" he shakes his head and starts walking "No, thanks. I think we's better get to bed before Jack gets worried." he stops. "Do you have a place to sleep?" I look down, "Not really..." "Well!" he grabs my hand again with a big grin, "Looks like youse bunkin' wit' me." I start to protest, but realize it'd get me nowhere with this stubborn SOB, so I let myself get dragged along. Oh, well. I might as well get rest for the strike tomorrow, goodness knows I need it.

As I settle down into the rough sheets, the gentle snoring rocks me to sleep with thoughts of the strike. One thought flashes through my mind before I fall asleep; God help us all.

I wake up to someone poking my face. My eyes flutter open and I almost fall off the bunk at the sight of Race's face right in front of mine. "JESUS CHRIST, RACE, YOU SCARED THE SH!T OUTTA ME!" He backs off, putting his hands up in surrender, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that Jack said you had to be up and out in 10 minutes so we can have an organized strike or whateva'" Race rolls his eyes, "I'm startin' ta think that Davey's rubbin' off on 'im a lil' too much."

I groan, tempted to slide back under the covers, but get up anyway. I slept with my clothes on so I don't have to do anything about that. As I look into an old, rusted mirror and comb my fingers through my now tangled hair, I feel another sharp pain in my chest, accompanied by a dull throbbing. I really should have taken off the bandages while I slept, but now it's too late. I take one last look in the mirror and, ignoring my eyebags, quickly head out the door to join the others. As I get to the gate, everyone's waiting with anticipation, faces grim but hopeful.

Everything happens in a blur. One moment we're striking, and the next we're beaten into a pulp. I manage to soak a Delancey in the eye when suddenly a familiar sharp pain fills my chest and wince, faltering. Morris takes this as an opportunity to knee me in the stomach, forcing me to the ground, where their take turns kicking my chest and body with those damn steel-toed boots of theirs until my clothes are torn and the cuts on my arms reopen. Suddenly, there's a small crack as my body swells up with pain and the taste of metal enters my mouth. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the pain registers in my brain. In my blurred vision, I see the Delancey's walk away, ready to torture their next victim; Crutchie.

I try to get up and reach out, try to scream at them not to hurt him, but all I can do is weakly move my hand in their direction and spit out blood. Suddenly, a small but rough hand reaches out and drags me into an alley. "Dammit, (N/N) what were you thinking?! Fighting in a gawddamn binder, and a makeshift one, no less!" "R-..Race..?" "Not now, (N/N) I have ta get youse to safety foist." I watch as he chews on his nails in thought, "Dammit! The only way back to tha lodge is through the Delancey's again!" He sighs. "Brooklyn it is..." He gingerly picks me up and carries me as fast as possible to Spot's turf.

Setting my feet on the ground and propping me up against him, he bangs on the door. "Spot!" Please! This is serious, I need your help!" I can hear the tears in his voice. Spot flings open the door, obviously very concerned. He's confused for a second, then looks at me and his eyes go wide. "GET THE MED KIT AND A COT OPEN, WESE GOT SOMETHING HORRIBLE THAT'S HAPPENED" he yells behind him. Race, now more calmed down, takes me in his arms again, but seems to refuse to look at Spot, who looks away as well, but more in shame.

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Race POV:

I watch as some of the Brooklyn newsies take (N/N) and lay him on a cot, anger surging through my veins. I take a deep breath "I'll take care of him. You guys don't have to worry about it." As they leave the room, I look down at (N/N) and can't help but feel guilty. Like this is my fault. I only got away with a black eye, but he got all this?

I regain my composure and start by taking (N/N) shirt off. I can already see the bruises starting to form and cringe. I take off his binding bandages and see his chest expand immediately. Poor kid. He must have been hurting in more way that just one. I take the gauze from the wooden box and gently wrap his torso with it. Maneuvering around his arms, I notice something. The bandages on him arms. When he was wearing them before, Jack said it was a marketing ploy, but now I see red bleeding through the white gauze.

I unwrap (N/N)'s arms and gasp. Hundreds of tiny, but deep cuts litter his forearms and wrists. F#ck. He was hurting so much more than I could have ever known. I wrap them with fresh gauze and treat the rest of his wounds, stepping back to admire my handiwork. That's when I start to cry. Full-on tears falling, face in hands crocodile tears. I turn my head with a start to see Spot, standing over me with a hand on my shoulder, looking apologetic "I'm so sorry..." Suddenly this sadness turns to rage. I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him outside to an empty alleyway. "SORRY?? SORRY, MY 4SS! (N/N) AND SO MANY OTHER 'HATTEN NEWSIES ALMOST DIED OUT THERE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN UNTIL YOU KNEW WE WOULDN'T "CAVE" WELL, WE DIDN'T CAVE, AND LOOK WHAT F#CKING HAPPENED! AND DONT YOU SAY SORRY TO ME AND EXPECT ME TO FORGIVE YOU JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THAT'S FOR CROW TO DECIDE." Spot seemed silent at first, but now I could see his anger building up; "WADDAYA THINK WOULD O' HAPPENED TO MY BOYS, HUH?? I WANTED TO WAIT TO SEE IF WE WOULD BE THE ONLY ONES FIGHTIN IN THIS BATTLE AGAINST PULITZER."

I open my mouth then close it. He has a fair point, but doesn't he trust me and the udda newsies not to bail in their hour of need? I sigh, pinching my nose. "I'm sorry Spot, I just-... I just wish you trusted me a bit more..." I look up at him to see tears in his eyes. "OH, SPOT HONEY, ITS OKAY, I'M NOT MAD, DON'T CRY, DON'T CRY" I shush him, pulling his head into my chest, which isn't tough considering his height.

As he lets go, the adrenaline rush from today dies down. God, I'm so tired. My knees nearly buckle and Spot notices, "Aye, aye! Tony, you doin' okay?" I nod at him, but the bags under my eyes are making them droop, "Race, honey, you need to get some sleep, okay?" I shake my head but soon fall into Spot's arms as my legs give way. "Fine..." I mumble. I can feel him grinning, "Good, we gots an extra bed for youse to sleep in." I sigh, grateful. I can feel Spot picking me up, the rhythm of his boots tapping along the ground, a pause and shift as he opens the lodging door and kicks it closed behind him as I fall asleep.

I wake up in a cold sweat. (N/N). I need to see (N/N). I need to check if he's okay. I climb out of the bed Spot laid me in and let my eyes adjust to the dark before maneuvering around all the other sleeping kids. I make my way as quietly as possible to where (N/N) is resting. I crouch down and take his hand in mine. How could I let this happen? And how did I not notice his suffering? I press the back of his hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My body is so tired right now, but my mind is too tortured with guilt to let me sleep.

By the time my thoughts finally leave me alone, the sun is rising in the sky. I'm finally drifting when- "Race?" I turn my head to the voice, "Oh, jesus, you look horrible!" Spot exclaims, "did you even get any sleep last night?" I shrug, to be fair, I lost count of the hours. Spot sighs, "Race...go sleep. At least for a few more hours. I can watch (N/N) if that makes you happy," I nod, rubbing my eyes. I stumble back to my bed amongst all the Brooklyn newsies and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

My mind dreams of talkin' cigars and bloody bandages. I see Crow propped up against the wall, smokin' a cigar. "(N/N)! (N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so happy that you're okay!" (N/N) doesn't answer, I slowly starts walking towards him, "(N/N)...?" he starts laughing. Softly at first then roaring, and the laughing turns into a heavy coughing fit. As (N/N) coughs, red smoke pours out of his lungs and clouds my vision. I swipe at the air, trying to brush away the fog, "(N/N)?? (N/N), where did you go?!" suddenly, the smoke clears and I see (N/N) bruised, damaged, bleeding body at my feet, I gasp and step back. (N/N) slowly turns to face me, and in a painful, teary, almost sickly whisper asks, "Why did you let this happen?" Tears start spilling down my face, "I- I didn't me-" "You did this to me Race. Race. Race. Race! Race! RACE! RACE!--

Spot POV:

--RACE WAKE UP!" He wakes up with a gasp. He looks around wildly, tears dripping from his chin. I've never seen him like this. He must care for him like a brudda. To be honest, I'm worried as well, not only about (N/N) but now that we know 'Hatten isn't gonna back down and we join the fight, what's gonna happen to the newsies in general? Kids could get hoit. Bad.

"Spot?" Race starts sobbing, clinging to my shirt fabric, "Please...tell me it'll be okay..." I can't. Race, I don't know if it will. I almost start sobbing on the Spot ( A/N: heh...), but I hold my composure and smile at him, "It'll be okay, Tony...we're all gonna be fine" He seems to believe this, at least a little bit. "Now, don't you gotta meet up wit' da udda newsies?" He retracts his head from my chest, eyes wide. In a nasal voice, he goes "AW SHOOT, I 'MOST FORGOT" I watch him with a small smile as he rushes to get dressed like the goof he is. God, I love 'im.

Race POV:

Silence. I got there too early. Fuck. I can't just be alone with my thoughts, but at least I have some extra money to... I don't know? I walk up to the bar, where the owner of Jacobi's is cleaning out glasses. I sigh and sit down, "Got anything to help forget? At least for a little while...?"

"Ain't you a little too young for that, kid?" I give him a look and push my money over the counter to him. He quietly collects it, "So what can I get ya?" I'm silent for a bit "Fireball." I say with some demand in my voice. He disappears behind the counter and comes back with some shot glasses and a Fireball bottle, pouring it out into the glasses as I watch. I notice as he sighs, "Feel betta, kid." Can't promise that.

I pick up a shot glass, watching as the orange liquid spins around in it. I take in a breath of spicy cinnamon before letting the liquid slip down my throat, leaving a trail of a burning sensation. Soon, one turns into another, and another, and another and before I could comprehend it, the room starts to spin and blur. Eventually, the room fills with newsies, mumblin' 'bout how crappy the strike went. I do my very best to fit in and not act drunk, but the time zooms by and I find myself singin' 'bout bein' the king o' new york. At some point in the blurry memory, Katherine suggests getting drunk and I throw my hands up and cheer. More free Fireball! But then she clarifies that it was a metaphor, to which I am very disappointed.

The rest whizzes past me and soon I'm stumblin' my way to Brooklyn. I knock heavily on the lodging door, then lean on it. Unexpectedly, the door opens and I'm left to fall flat on my face at the feet of my boyfriend, Spot Conlon. "Race! Darlin', you okay? Youse fell flat on ya face!" He extends a hand that I receive and pulls me up. I giggle, "Ahhhh, my Spotty! Always carin' 'bout uddas. Pshht! Yeah, I'm fiiiine." I flop my hand down to wave off his concern. He wrinkles his nose, "You reek of cinnamon....and alcohol." He widens his eyes and I let out anudda giggle, "Race! Tell me you didn't jus' get drunk!" he whines, I grin, "Okey, 'you didn't jus' get drunk'" I imitate him in a deep voice and he sighs, "Jesus Christ, Racer.." he grabs my hand pulls me inside, eventually laying me on a bed, face red with a giggling fit. "Goodnight, my liege," I giggle some more, "and you my Prince," he gives a small smile before covering me with a blanket. I fall asleep before it's up over my shoulders.

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I wake up with my head feeling like it's going to explode.

Fuck Life.

I groan and sit up. "Mornin' Sleepin' Beauty" Spot smirks and hands me a cup of water, "Shut the fuck up" I whine and grab the glass, "Ooh feelin' feisty today, huh?" I shoot him a look that could rot a squash with one gaze. He holds up his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, my bad," He shrugs. I sigh and take a sip of water, which turns into me chugging the whole thing. "You betta get ova this hangover fast, hon" I groan, not ready to do anything at all today, "We gots the meetin' wit' Jack."

End my life.

"No, I don't think I will," "fuuuuck did I say that out loud?" I let out a small wail, and Spot chuckles a little, though you can tell there's somethin' on his mind still, "Yeah, ya did sweetheart." I grumble something incomprehensible and look down, red. He smiles, "Get dressed and drink as much water as possible, okay? We can't have you hungover for the big meeting, right?" I nod...which causes my head to hurt. Ow.

I sigh and decide to take my sweet time getting dressed. This sucks. "Spotty!" I call, then cringe after a new wave of pain hits, he pokes his head through the door "Yeah?". "I don't have the energy to deal wit' all dese gawddamn bandages. Help me?" He blushes a bit but agrees to help me bind. All I focus on is not hurting my head again. Spot ties the bandages and stands back to admire his handiwork but quickly notices my cringin'. "Do you want somethin' cold?" he asks gently, I nod as gingerly as possible.

*Timeskip to after the newsies meet n greet bcuz I'm power-finishing this at 12am and my mental health is steadily declining*

My hand shakes as I bring a fresh, unlit cigar to my lips.

Jack. That sellout, that traitor.

A sharp pain knocks me out of my angry thoughts. Ah. I burned myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Racer.." says a gentle voice, "You okay? that's your 3rd cigar in the past 2 hours or so." I look up to see Finch leaning over me as I sit on the ground, a concerned look on his face, "You're gonna run out all too soon" I give a bitter laugh, "Yeah, I guess I will." Finch can see that there's not much he can do to help me. He gives a weak smile and turns to walk away.

I see Davey run off somewhere. I wonder where they're going? I sigh and turn my head back down to the ground. Who cares? Without a leader, the strike'll just fall apart and Pulitzer'll win. Who was I kidding when I bragged abt being da "King o' New York"? I'm just some nobody kid without a nickel to my name. The bigger guys always win, so what's with me tryin'?

Jack POV:

I can't let any more kids get in this much danger. I visited (N/N) today. I found out about all his... injuries, as well as whatever he was born as. He's been through so much before all this, he doesn't deserve it.

It's my fault for being so ignorant. For not noticing anything was goin' on. My fault for inciting this stupid strike. For getting all these kids hoit. and Crutchie...poor Crutchie, locked up in that godawful place. I know he ain't helpless, 'e's a cheeky little bastard, I'll give him that, but the Refuge breaks down even the biggest of smiles and smothers the brightest of people. I will never forget that hell I went through. I went in a cheeky fightin' kid with a deep, strong flame, and came out with the embers barely glowing. It took years just to spark it up again. I'm terrified as to what'll happen to him.

I lean over the railing of my penthouse, not even noticing as it shakes and squeaks, making way for a young boy a little younger den me. "-Jack! JACK!" "Jesus Christ, yeah??? Oh, it's you, Dave..." I look away shamefully, he's probably here to chew me out and tell me we're done and gone. "What the hell was that?" I wince, I knew it. "Waddya mean 'what the hell was that?'?" "You know what I mean, JACK KELLY." I'm fucked. "YOU BETRAYED US FOR MONEY?!" "I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT PRESSURED TO IF I WADN'T DEALIN' WIT' A FLAKER!" Davey gives a bitter laugh and balls up the front of my shirt in his fist, tugging me towards him. "Ohoho! And if I wasn't your 'best friend' you'd be lookin' at me through one swollen eye!" "Oh, yeah? Well, don't let that stop ya, huh? Gimme your best shot!" something soft roughly pressing against my lips. The only thought at the moment is; 'Well, this is new... and passionate, 'specially from Dave' there's a heavy, awkward silence.

I back away from him, knocking over my drawings in the process. One specific drawing rolls out seemingly by fate. It taps on Davey's shoe and he looks down. His eyes widen a little as he reaches down to get it. "Is this.. the Refuge?" he puts a hand over his mouth, "weren't you stuck here once? Rats, cockroaches everywhere, 6 kids to a bunk? Holy fuc- I mean fudge." If the moment weren't this tense, I might've laughed. "Jack..." I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready." I shake my head and he drops his arm understandingly. "Either way, we could use this. Heck..." Davey seems deep in thought before his face lights up, "We could make our own newspaper!" I look at him in disbelief, he notices, and speaks again "think about it, Jackie! Kath's a real talented writer! This art could change the perspective of hundreds! We could write to tell all the workin' boys to go on Strike tomorra'! And we could expose Snyder in the process!" Hey, that's not too bad..."But, Dave, how're we gonna print it?" His face falls, "I didn't think about it...we're banned from every printin' press in New York.."

Oh no. Ohhh no. "No. Noooo." I whine, Davey chuckles, amused "what?" "I know a printin' press that no one would ever think of!" Davey grins, "Then what are we waitin' for?" He puts my drawing back into the case, and slings it over his shoulder, getting ready to climb down. Suddenly, a thought strikes me, "Wait-" "Yeah?" "Dave- what are we exactly? Like I know how we act to each other n' everything, but we've never really said out loud what we are..." Davey giggles, "Jackie-" "No! Tell me right now, are we... in love? Boyfriends, I guess?? Or am I just something for your own experimentation?"

He cups my face in his hands, "Jackie..." he kisses my nose, "Of course I love you! And yes! We are in love! Dating! Boyfriends! Whichever way you want to define us!" Soon we're both grinning ear-to-ear and blushing. "Now!" he exclaims, hopping up, clearly on a high from the whole kiss and convo, "Let's get to it!" I laugh and stand up as well, following my over-enthusiastic boyfriend down the ladder. As Davey said; Let's get to it!

(Y/N) POV:

'My head hurts...' I think groggily. I try to open my eyes, but my vision is blurred and wonky. I sit up. Nevermind. Everything hurts. As my vision starts to clear, I see a very tired Spot Conlon sitting in a chair in the corner of whatever room I'm in rubbing sleep from his eyes. He fixates his eyes on me for a second, and I can see the sleepiness and confusion in his eyes turn into shock and joy. "(N/N)! Ohmygod! I'm so glad you'se awake!" I can see him go to wrap me in a bear hug before holdin' himself back after he remembers all my injuries. Wait. My injuries. "Does this mean you know about...?" I vaguely gesture to my arms and Spot nods sadly, "And..." I cringe and gesture to my chest, now only lightly bound with medical tape, but tighter than needed for a typical injury. I smile to myself. That must've been Race. He's like a perfect older brother, not only thinkin' about my physical health, but also my mental well-being.

Spot notices the look on my face and sees me lookin' down at my chest, he chuckles, "Yeah, Race decided on that. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible while you heal." I start grinning even harder. Spot spoke up again "Don't forget that even boys born seen as boys don't have perfectly flat chests, so binding as tight as you did wasn't necessary or safe, for that matter." I give him a look, is Spot really trying to be the cis savior right now? He gives me a look right back, "What? I know what I'm talking about." He lifts his shirt up to reveal two scars on his chest. I gasp, "But you're only *insert years/months* younger/older than me! How did you even know that this was an option, as well, how did you do it?" He smirks, pulling his shirt back down, "Thought so. Anyway, I don't really know. I needed them off desperately and randomly thought of it. As for the how, Buttons is AMAZING with scissors and blades. Like, scary amazing." He shivers. I blink. Damn.

He gives a shy grin "Do I really pass that well?" I look at him enviously "Of course! But... how do you look so...masculine?" "Well, I tried my best to copy the behavior of other boys I saw. And the whole working out didn't hurt." I nod, taking a mental note. Behavior, got it. Can't promise sticking to a workout, though. Spot scoots closer, taking my hand in his, "But the most important thing to understand is- behavior, body type, and a powerful reputation doesn't define being a true boy. What does is what's in here-" he taps my head, "-and here." he points to my heart. Spot looks me in my eyes, "You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes." I feel my eyes water, and Spot opens his arms to me with a sincere look. I fall into his arms and cry tears of joy. Spot and Race are the older brothers I never had, helping me at every fork in the road of my transition.

(A/N: I noticed that a big issue in trans fanfics was that the cis person was always the one to condescendingly teaching the helpless trans kid how to bind properly. I decided to make both of your mentors trans, had them both know what they're talking about, and made sure that you weren't completely useless or clueless, only that you needed guidance seeing as (Y/N) is a trans kid with no former knowledge about his transition. As well, I kinda wanted this fic to be of help to any newcomer trans men. Anyway, on to the last of the story!)

"So how are your ribs feeling?" Spot asks after we both calm down, "A little sore, but pretty much moveable. Is it really this painful to bind? I mean, the past few weeks I had the binding stuff on was my first time." "It shouldn't, I mean, lookit Race. He seems energetic and flexible even when he's binding." I think he sees my insecure face because he speaks again, "What I mean to say is- if you have more experience binding, you'll know how to mix mental and physical comfort. Either way, what fucked up your ribs wasn't the binding, it was the Delancey's. Not saying the way you were binding wasn't bad and wouldn't have caused lasting damage, of course."

I see Spot have a flicker of thought behind his eyes, he pulls out an obviously stolen silver pocket watch with the initials H.A. engraved on it to check the time. "Almost time..." he mutters. I give him a suspicious look, "Almost time for what...?" he looks sheepishly at the ground, "Nnnnnothing." I let out a noise halfway between a snort and a scoff, "Uh huh." "Fine." he sighs, "All the newsies and workin' boys is comin' together today. We'se hopin' ta finish up this strike Once And For All."

"Let me guess, I shouldn't go because I'm still healing." He nods, "Spot!! I need to do my part in this strike! I can't miss the most important day of my life." he gives me a weird look, "You don't even know what the outcome'll be, plus I promised Race that you wouldn't get hurt." "Please, I've been bedridden for WEEKS. And I won't get hurt" I protest stubbornly, he sighs exasperatedly "FINE, but I'm gettin' you right outta there at the foist sign o' danger, okay?" "Okay!" I say, content with the compromise. "We should prolly get you up and used to legs again before the strike--" my stomach rumbles harder than Les when he sees the chocolate croissants in the Pastry Shop window, and that's seriously saying somethin', "--and something to eat, too."

Spot holds my hands as I get out of bed and basically learn to walk again with wobbly legs. You could just paint my back with spots and call me a baby deer. Once I get my legs to work with me, Spot leads me to a tin tub. I give him a 'seriously?' look, "What am I doin', goin' ta church?" he laughs sarcastically, "Ha, ha. (N/N), you haven't cleaned yourself since the last time you were conscious. I also need to refresh your bandages since those haven't been touched since Race changed them in the foist place." "Fiiiine" I growl.

Spot unwraps my arm and chest bandages, but when it comes to me taking off the rest of my clothes, he looks away (not even for my privacy, but just because he is highly repulsed to the idea of naked bodies) I add enough soap suds on top of the water to cover my body so he's comfortable.

He grabs some soap and lathers up my hair with it, soon rinsing it. He also lathers and rinses my face, removing the built-up dirt, grease, and sweat, which accumulated surprisingly quickly for only spending a month, or was it two, here. Spot brings out a small piece of scrap fabric and a bottle of some liquid, then gently grabs my arms. "This might burn a little," he said empathetically. He dampened the cloth with what I am assuming is disinfectant and started pressing it against my healing cuts. I tried to hold in my pain but let out a small hiss when the cloth reached the deeper cuts on the backs of my arms. Spot stopped temporarily, letting my arms adjust to the sting a little, before continuing. Once he's finished, he hands me the soap and leaves the room to let me bathe myself in peace and picks up my dirty clothes and old bandages. "Holler if you need anything!" he yells on his way out.

I create a lather in my hands and stand up so I can actually wash my body. The air is chilly compared to the bathwater, so I do my best to be quick as I let my soap hands travel gingerly over my body. I look down, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel ashamed. Spot words echo in my mind as I smile softly; 'You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes.' I guess, for now, I'm confident in my masculinity.

I sit back down, enjoying the warmth, and rinse myself off. I step out of the bath and look at the grey-ish brown-ish water. Ew, was I really that dirty? As the cold air envelops me once more, I realize I don't have a towel. Or clothes. "Spot!" I call out, "Yeah?" I hear a faint voice, "I need a towel and some clothes!" I answer. There's quiet, then a series of rustling sounds that slowly get closer. The door opens a crack and I see a tan, muscular hand slide a pile of clothes and a towel in my direction. I smile gratefully, "Thanks, Spotty!" "Aye! Only Race can call me dat..." "Okay, fine."

I dry my hair as much as possible, before continuing to my body. There's not much actual rubbing rather than patting because of my injuries, so when I get my pants on and slip my button-down onto my shoulders, they get a little damp. "Spot?" I call out again, "Do you think you could help me with my bandages?" "'Course!" He casually picks up the chest bandages and binds it pretty much perfectly- Tight enough to make a difference in my chest size, but loose enough to let my ribs heal. Spot then starts re-bandaging my arms, "Can I ask you a question, Spot?" "Sure, (N/N)" he says nonchalantly, "Why is it you are repulsed by fully naked bodies, but you're perfectly casual and fine about helping me bind my chest when I'm half-naked?" he clears his throat as if he was ready to spin a whole story, "Well, Race used to live with me and we started trusting each other a lot more than when we first met. He trusted me enough to teach him the best way to bind, and he trusted me enough to feel comfy without a top on when around the house, so I'm kinda desensitized. But when it comes to people being naked or bein' overly suggestive, I just..don't like it. At all."

'Asexual,' I think, 'Knew it."

"Anyway, you ready to fight off the bulls and get our rights back, (N/N)?" He stands up and offers a hand to help me up, which I receive. I catch my reflection in the dirty bathwater. I can see crystal clear, that I am dapper, strong, and ready to kick some Delancey ass.

But first, Lunch.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I arrive at the strike on Spot's shoulders, hyped for the happy ending they all worked so hard for. Spot sets me down gently and scans the crowd for someone. It seems he found them because his face lights up. I see Race run over to us. "(N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so fuckin' glad that you're awake! Especially today of all days!" however, his enthusiasm is soon replaced with concern, "But is ya sure yer okay? You must've woken up just today, so are you feeling good? Yer injuries don't hurt too bad, you're not dizzy, hungry, thirsty?" "Calm down, Tony, I gave him a bath, changed his bandages, gave him food n' water, even a pep talk, so you don't need to worry!" Race takes a few deep breaths, "Okay, okay, yeah I'm fine. But that's great!" He engulfs me in a firm, but gentle hug. I look around the crowd and see some familiar faces, Katherine seems to have brought another girl with her, who I'm assuming is Sarah, Davey's sister. I see Albert and Elmer tightly holding each other's hands. I see Finch and Smalls exchanging jokes as a form of distraction. I look back at Race and Spot, who are being so romantic, it's almost gross. Almost.

The adrenaline still hasn't left me so when people start getting as excited as me, it just hypes me up even more. We look up at the window of Pulitzer's office and see Jack and a few others standing there, waving. I wave back vigorously. Not too long after, Jack, Davey, Pulitzer, and The Governer appear on a balcony, Jack at the front. "Newsies of New York City..." cue the pause for dramatic effect, "WE WON!!" The crowd of newsies roars with joy. I watch as Crutchie limps out and beats Snyder's ass as the abuser is dragged away, I don't understand why so many people see him as an angel, it's obvious that he's a cheeky lil' rat bastard.

Suddenly, it's like everything is in slow motion. I look around once more and see Katherine and Sarah kissing, same with Albert and Elmer, Finch and Smalls are hugging each other tightly. I look back up at the balcony and see Davey and Jack gettin' it ON. I look once again to Spot and Race, who just finished kissing. Spot reaches down and hoists me onto his shoulders to cheer. And as I take in this momentous victory one sense at a time, I realize in a moment of pure bliss-

I finally found my true family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word Count: 8190

(A/N):

This took VERY LONG (approx. one month, I just finished after working from 9 pm to 5 am) I know it was supposed to be a simple one-shot, but since there was no one to help narrow down and shorten the plot for me, I got carried away. I am, however, pleased with the length of it. This may be the longest fic I've ever written. As well, I hope any underlying advice or tips mentioned in the story helped you to understand/realize something.

I would love it if you were to vote, give me some constructive criticism, and/or request something for me to write! Don't forget- I live to write that one fanfic you can never find.

Love y'all!

~ Race

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spencerspecifics · 3 years

Text

Okay i got this idea while talking to @criminalmindsvibez earlier and I just h a d to write it out

Imagine: the team taking one of those “teamwork building” days during the fall and Hotch has no clue what the team could do together to build their teamwork morale because they’ve literally had to save each other from murderers in a time sensitive manner so like??? Wtf are they supposed to do? Solve a jigsaw puzzle? So Garcia gets the task of figuring out what to do and she decides pumpkin patch/corn maze because fuck it. It’s fall.

-they get to the pumpkin patch, immediately Rossi is like “I don’t need to buy a pumpkin. It’ll end up rotting on my doorstep”

- Garcia points out that doesn’t help the team morale so he better quiet down

-he shuts up, they get inside the farm area and the entire team is just sorta standing around cuz when is the last time any of them went to a patch??? They aren’t sure of where to start. There’s stands that sell apple cider and hot coco and kettle corn and there’s some hinky dinky country music playing in the background. It’s nice but they have no clue where to start

-Garcia decides to take over, because fuck it, she got put in charge of this, and Hotchner looks like a fish out of water. Put him in a beauracratic setting and the man knows how to operate, but this? He looks so lost, it’s almost funny. Garcia’ll command this group of idiot life savers.

- she decides the team should start in the corn maze, that sorta helps the team morale. They gotta find a way to get out, after all. Spencer doesn’t want to go in until he sees a map of it, though, so he can check where they are. So they have to awkwardly go to an employee and ask where the map of the corn maze is located

-Derek finds it in a pamphlet that the employee handed to him, he gave it over to Spencer, who gladly accepts it and stares at it for what feels like two seconds before being like “ok let’s go”

-even though finding that damn map took like ten minutes because the pumpkin patch has so many customers so employees are all over the place. So everyone is like “goddamnit dude” at spencer before moving ahead into the maze

- Derek and Garcia take the lead, Spencer in the middle, then J.J. and Emily towards the back, with Hotch and Rossi in the very back.

-Hotch doesn’t wanna have to take charge of how to get through the maze unless absolutely necessary

-J.J. and Emily just end up having some very much needed girl talk while Garcia and Derek bicker about which way to go

- “Get a babysitter so we can have a girls night” “I’ll do that when you call that hot british dude that you met at the bar last week back” “I don’t need him. I have Sergio.” “Cats don’t replace real relationships with people, emily.”

-meanwhile Derek and Garcia aren’t sure which way to go. “Let’s take a left.” “No, we just went that way. We should take a right.” “That just keeps us in the middle, doll ” “isn’t that what we want?!”

-Meanwhile, the entire time, Spencer has been thinking of the turns and loops and steps they’ve taken and calculated exactly where within the maze they are based on the map

-Eventually Spencer takes charge, after Derek made them take two dead end turns, “Guys- no, we’re towards the edge of the maze. The quickest way to the end is through the center, so we need to go back and take two rights, then a left.”

-Hotch and Rossi are just walking through in silence for the most part, taking in the scenery around them. The crisp autumn air, it’s nice. They do break their silence for conversations. They speak about Jack’s upcoming soccer game, and how tiring it can be to work with children.

- “I’ve never been more grateful that my three ex wives and I never ended up with kids- god, it’s enough going to see Jack’s stuff and help coach the team.” “You have no obligation to show up if you don’t want to, Dave. If it’s too much I understand.” “Aaron, I would rather get arrested for a murder I didn’t commit and convicted before leaving Jack’s games.”

-Garcia ends up falling back with the girls, where the conversation shifts to Prentiss talking about how much the corn maze reminds her of the children of the corn movie

-“ew! Why did you have to say that! All their parents end up dead! That’s so sad!” “Garcia, it’s the corn that reminds me of the movie” “Well duh- we’re in a cornfield! But don’t think about that movie. Think about something nicer.”

-Prentiss is drawing a blank on nice fall themed things, so J.J. pipes up with “what about that Charlie Brown movie?” Garcia points out that doesn’t take place in a corn field

-“well. Only corn field movie that’s coming to mind is children of the corn.” So emily continues to talk a bit about it to J.J., all while making Garcia want to run away because “Ew no it’s such a sad movie! Let’s talk about something nicer!”

-Meanwhile Derek and Spencer are solely up front, Spencer is using that big dumptruck of a brain of his to know exactly which turns to take. Derek’s just walking alongside him, trying to weasel from flirting into conversation casually

-“how about after this I get you some cider, pretty boy?” “Do you know cider on average has to ferment for fifteen days?” Spencer isn’t really listening, if that isn’t already obvious. He heard what Derek said, but he’s just thinking of every next twist and turn they have to take to get out. So he isn’t very conversative

-meanwhile the girls have changed conversation topics to what kind of pumpkins J.J. should get Henry (this conversation change was obviously brought on by Garcia) “you should get him a cute tiny one! That would be so adorable” emily on the other hand is saying to get one bigger than him “wouldn’t it be funny to have a pumpkin taller than henry?”

-J.J. doesn’t know which size pumpkin she’ll get for Henry. But she lets emily and Garcia sway her opinion in both directions, because a comically large pumpkin would be funny. But one as small as Henry would be adorable

-meanwhile the old men duo in the back are still just enjoying their walk. Hotch had mentioned how Jack would’ve loved to come to the patch, before silence fell over them again. Rossi asked a few moments later if Hotch knows if jack’s school would be taking a field trip to the patch, “I’m not sure. I’m assuming they will.” Rossi doesn’t say anything more, but he secretly plans on double checking that, emailing the school, and explaining that he and Hotch would like to be volunteers on the trip. He’d like to see that happen.

-Derek hasn’t fully given up on his flirting game with Spencer. But he’s holding off for now, as Spencer is way too focused on the maze layout. So much so that he started mapping out in his mind where the best spot to place a body would be as an unsub. “If someone was to drop a body in here- the ideal location would be the upper left sides second dead end. Geographically, it’s the farthest point from landmarks and least traveled area within the maze.”

-Garcia hears that and butts in, “No murder talk! No dead body talk- there is no dead body! Today is supposed to be a good day! Shut off your brain for one day, Spencer”

-Spencer doesn’t say anything more about the best spot within the maze to dump a body, though Derek is sure Spencer is bored and thinking out a billion separate scenarios within the maze. Mazes were good for hiding and concealing things, after all

-Garcia accidentally mishears Spencer’s directions of “turn left” and she walks directly into the wall of corn that the maze is made out of

-the team all stops for a second to help her untangle herself out of that before promptly laughing at her

-ok Derek and emily laugh the most, emily tells her to steal an ear of corn “It’s not like they’d miss it. It could be compensation for running into it”. J.J. and Spencer sorta stand there chuckling a lil bit, Hotch and Rossi are more like “as long as you’re all good we should continue on” but they had little smiles on their faces too

-They finally get out! The employees at the exit are like “good job, that was very fast!” And everyone on the team is like “thanks we tried” meanwhile Spencer is standing there thinking “no y’all didn’t I did it cuz I memorized the maze smh”

-the team stays as a unit after that. It wasn’t on purpose, but they all had the same thing in mind, the pumpkin patch

-they walk over there, it’s not too far, immediately Spencer makes his way over to the large containers of pre-picked pumpkins, gourds, thise tiny as hell pumpkins, those white pumpkins, and those red pumpkins. He’s one second away from grabbing a pumpkin at random from the container so he can grab a pumpkin and go, when Derek is like “Hey man what are you doing? You’re not picking from the patch”

-Spencer then has to awkwardly explain how the only times he ever went to the pumpkin patch was in elementary school before he skipped ahead grade wise and the kids in his class made fun of him that day really bad. Like they called him names and left him “trapped” in the corn field (tho he had seen a map and was able to figure his way out easily that time.) and so whenever he has to buy a pumpkin he just gets them from the grocery store because he gets anxious at the thought of coming to a pumpkin patch

-immediately the entire team is like “wtf man you should’ve told us!!! Do you want to leave??? We should leave” and Garcia is immediately like “Spencer I am so sorry oh my god I didn’t know” and he has to sorta awkwardly be like “No it’s ok. I wanted to come. I want to try and get a better memory than last time.”

-Derek pats him on the back for that, “You’ll get much better memories this time, I promise. But let’s get a pumpkin from the actual patch instead of from these containers”

- Derek makes it his soul mission to make sure spencer now has an amazing time in the pumpkin patch. So he stays with him the entire time as they walk around, inspecting pumpkins for just the right one

-meanwhile the girls are looking at the biggest pumpkins possible. Namely Prentiss, she wants to get a big one. “Can you even out that out front of your apartment door?” “I don’t know but I’ll make sure it stays until it rots”

-Hotchner is busy looking for a pumpkin he could bring home for jack to carve, though he does guess that jack would be making his way to the pumpkin patch with his class too. It couldn’t hurt to have a third pumpkin to carve.

-Rossi doesn’t want a pumpkin, he’s already decided that they’re messy and smelly and he doesn’t even like pumpkin seeds or pumpkin pie enough to warrant the mess of cutting and getting the pumpkin guts out. So he just stands and watches

-Garcia notices that immediately and is so not happy with that “you’re serious about not getting a pumpkin?” “I told ya” “ughhh Rossi- you could get a tiny one!” “I don’t wanna carve and deal with a mess” “you don’t have to carve a tiny one!”

-“what’re you thinking pretty boy?” Derek asked Spencer, who had been staring down the same pumpkin for like two minutes, which was definitely unusual. Spencer doesn’t answer, leaning down and picking the pumpkin up instead. “Does it have any abrasions on it?” He asked Derek, as he turns it over in his hands to inspect it. “Not that I can see, no”

-Spencer decides on this pumpkin, and they find some wheelbarrows provided by the farm to put his pumpkin in, they give Hotch the duty of rolling the wheelbarrow around as they meander away from the rest of the group

-Spencer then is like “oh shit. Wait Derek. Your pumpkin. We need to find you one.” Derek just laughs a little bit and is like “I’ll find one lol but you gotta come with me” so Spencer agrees as they go to find one for Derek

-Garcia ends up nearby the tiny pumpkins, deciding to buy at least three to litter her front doorstep with

-she is so distracted she doesn’t even realize rossi making his way over. “You’re right. Those ones are way too small to carve.” He says, she just agrees, “Yes, so you should get some!! C’mon. Get that festive spirit.”

-Hotch shows up pushing the wheelbarrow from behind, listening to the tail end of rossi and Garcia’s bickering match. “You should get some, Dave. It would look nice.”

-That makes rossi cave. He mumbles out a “fine. The things I do for you all, I swear” before picking two up and putting them in the wheelbarrow, next to Spencer’s pumpkin.

-Garcia is b e a m I n g she is very happy with the fact she got this fall grinch into getting a pumpkin. So much so that she ends up getting a fourth tiny one, because damnit they’re too adorable.

-Hotchner still hasn’t found a pumpkin for him and for jack so he’s standing in the patch, still surveying like a lost old man. Garcia and Rossi end up helping him.

-Meanwhile J.J. and emily are looking through the medium sized pumpkins to find something for will and Henry. “I’m thinking a medium sized one, because then it’s sort of a mix of what you and Garcia said.” J.J. explained to Prentiss, who nodded along in agreement.

-the team is all pretty quiet at this point as they try to find their own pumpkins. Derek finds his, a large one that’s very vertically elongated. He takes it back to the wheelbarrow, with Spencer trailing along behind him.

-Hotch finds two round, smaller sized pumpkins. And he decides that those are his, they look great and would be easy enough to carve, so he grabs them up, getting them back into the wheelbarrow

-J.J. finds a medium sized pumpkin for Henry, and two smaller ones for her and will. Meanwhile Prentiss is like “Hey Jayge that Charlie Brown movie is applicable now since we’re in a pumpkin patch” Garcia hears that and is like “y e s good fall vibes yes”

-they finish up in the patch, everyone putting their pumpkins into the wheelbarrow as they head towards the checkout

-Derek pays for Spencer’s pumpkin, saying it’s not a problem

-Spencer literally can’t stop blushing at that even tho it’s the most mundane thing e v e r and it’s adorable

-the team gets their pumpkins sorted and paid, before taking the wheelbarrow back towards the stands that sell cider and hot coco and kettle corn.

-the girls go off to get hot chocolate, Dave and Rossi go to get some bags of kettle corn, and Derek and Spencer go get cider

-“If you make hot coco with anything but milk, it’s evil” “emily what about lactose intolerant people who use water?” “They’re on thin ice.”

-Spencer thanks Derek like five times in a row for helping him get a pumpkin and buying it “you didn’t have to-“ “you better stop talking before I buy you a cider too, pretty boy”

-Derek does buy him a cider in the end, which isn’t any surprise

-Dave and Hotch argue over which type of kettle corn is the best. “It’s caramel, Aaron. Why on earth would cheddar kettle corn be good?” “It’s savory as opposed to sweet, it’s better” “That doesn’t matter if it tastes bad!”

-Garcia ends up coaxing the hot coco barista lady into adding a shit ton of extra chocolate sauce and stuff to her drink

-so much so that it’s literally too sweet for her but she dug her grave she will fuckin lie in it like a winner

-J.J. and emily immediately make fun of her, “I can see the regret in your eyes!”

-the team finishes up buying their drinks, pushing the wheelbarrow out to the parking lot.

-“See, not so bad for a team morale building day after all!” Garcia says happily, she’s glad her idea was a success

-it was. The team is happy, they got hot sweet drinks and bags of delicious food, not to mention a shit ton of pumpkins they shove into the trunk of the SUV

-Spencer’s happy he made new memories at the pumpkin patch, Derek was just happy to help build those for him.

-Garcia’s happy her day went so well, emily is glad she got a pumpkin to carve, J.J.’s happy she got good pumpkins for will and Henry, Hotch is happy that he’s not stuck in a stuffy office building in an uncomfortable suit talking about another murder investigation, and Rossi is happy to be with his found family on a day out

-it was a good day at the pumpkin patch :)

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tiny--cryptid · 3 years

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HI I have apparently cracked the code of my creativity and discovered that it only emerges when I have gotten zero sleep! So anyways here’s a bunch of headcanons I wrote about Benrey’s childhood while trying not to pass out cause hlvrai hyperfocus is going brr again. I’m gonna go pass out now

I imagine that Benrey’s “true form” (i.e. what he looked like as a kid before the scientists fuckin jangled around his dna like car keys) was kinda your classic eldritch horror shit. He was just vaguely shaped like something and kinda bad to look at, like, spiritually, which is how most kids that age look to be fair. But then the bitchass scientists did the aforementioned jangling and made him all normal and boring (but still kinda uncanny valley tho)

Xenian kiddos usually go through a period that’s similar to puberty cause it’s when they do the most shapeshifting to kinda figure out what they want their Main Digs™ to be, and Benrey tried to do that but it was after the gene scramble so bc he had more human-ish dna in him than usual all his forms were people-shaped and the only real differences were how many limbs/facial features he added or removed

Benrey was about as “problematic” and “rebellious” as a test subject could possibly get, frequently breaking out and occasionally straight-up attacking people, which is fair considering he’d been ripped away from his home, locked in a cell, gotten prodded with sharp things and cut open, and had his shapeshifting broken

Oh yeah i should probably talk about why they scrombled him huh

So like I said Benny was a pretty feral kid but when they first brought him in he wasn’t nearly as bad, he just kinda acted like you’d expect, like, a cornered stray dog to, just pacing around all agitated and snapping at anyone who got too close. Of course the scientists decided this wasn’t good enough and started looking for ways to like “tame” him cause this was like the 1900whatevers and black mesa wasn’t even trying to play nice with OSHA or anyone like them at this point, and black mesa’s bioscience division in particular was gettin in on some real sus experiments, so obviously they were like “well it’s got some genes in common with humans already, if we just add more of those maybe that’ll make it more docile” but obviously that didn’t work cause that’s not what genes do dave you dipshit, and instead ol Benny boy just got more angry and just kinda ate faces till security re-contained him

As he got older he kinda figured out how to bypass the genetic lock, but only just. So instead of getting to do anything cool like he used to as a kid he’s basically limited to contorting himself into awful hell abominations (see series finale) or some sort of viscous, annoyingly iridescent stuff with a bunch of eyes, like silly putty but replace the silliness with being hard to be in the same room as without getting a headache (so exactly like silly putty)

Not that he really does either of those things pre-rescas cause like. He’s an adult at that point. He’s been trapped in this facility for literally his whole life, and all he has left of anything else is the best month of his life when he escaped and met Gordon as kids which is an entirely different can of weasels, and barely-there snippets of what his home dimension looked like…

…as well as the quiet but persistent thrum at the center of his being, the heartbeat of Xen and all its inhabitants, because he’s still connected to it even after a lifetime of separation. Xen knows where he is and what has happened, and it has cried out for years, for the child that was stolen from it, for the species that has fled from it, trying to call its lost people back.

#hlvrai #hlvrai benrey #benrey #hlvrai headcanon #tf do i tag this mess as #ah well i did good enough

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fritzyships · 9 months

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Will art by nuudel Dave art by noisx Henry art by miiilowo

#honey bunny[glitch]#purple bitch[william]#sweettrap[spring]#peanut[scrap]#weasel boy[dave]#crispy bun[burn]#beautiful dancer[ball]#honey bear[henry]#f/o community #self ship community

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inkblotsandpapertrails · 4 years

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Heart of Stone {R.H.} [Pt 4]

Warnings: Mild Depictions of Injuries

Pairing: Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Description: You didn’t agree with your brothers much. You didn’t like how they treated people or handled emotions and etcetera. But you could all agree that the Delancey’s were a proud family. A strong family. You didn’t get close to people, you didn’t show emotion, you didn’t let anyone have power over you, no matter what, because that made you weak. Except for the pretty newsboy with the foghorn voice and smart jokes, apparently.

A/N: don’t you love panicking over not updating in a while so you anxiously post one segment of an unfinished chapter because you don’t think you can finish this chapter soon enough and then you finish said chapter immediately afterwards and look like an idiot? i sure do!

You stood outside the deli awkwardly in the sweltering heat of New York summer, first aid kit stuffed clumsily under your arm. You couldn’t help but feel panicked – sure, Medda had given you the address and everything, but it wasn’t like she knew you were part of the family whose whole livelihood was based around scamming, screwing over and beating up newsies.

You swallowed heavily and steeled yourself – maybe you weren’t a Delancey anymore, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be tough.

When you opened the door, you felt the temperature drop. It was probably just the cooling system, but still, it freaked you out. Every single newsie was staring at you. Some looked angry, some shocked, a few of the younger ones looked downright terrified.

“Hey.” You said awkwardly, raising your hand in a little half-wave before quickly shoving it back down. One newsie narrowed his eyes at you viciously, twirling his slingshot in his hands.

“Whadda you want?”

You looked away and cleared your throat, holding up the first-aid kit in lieu of an answer.

“I saw, um...” You murmured. “I just thought you might need help.”

A low murmur spread around the room as the newsies muttered to each other, their gazes flicking to you suspiciously every so often.

“I can go...” You said quietly. “I just, um... I thought you might want- I dunno. I’ll go. Bye.”

You turned stiffly and was about to open the door to leave when-

“Ey, [Y/N]!”

You spun around frantically to see Race waving at you from across the deli.

“Thank God ya got out okay!” Race grinned as he all but sprinted across the deli and took you by the hand. You swallowed heavily as he led you through the shop, chatting the whole way. “I meant to check in at Medda’s, but, um – well, some shit’s been goin’ down, let’s just say. You doin’ okay, though? Medda treatin’ ya good?”

Oh, you were supposed to respond now. Okay.

“Um – Yeah. I suppose. She, um... She feeds me a lot.”

Race threw back his head and laughed.

“Yeah, that’s Medda? Real motha hen, she is.” Race chuckled. You frowned – something felt wrong. His laugh felt too loud, his smile too big. He felt... Fake. “’Ey, Dave, where’s Les?”

A lanky newsie with circular glasses grabbed Race’s wrist.

“You are not letting that near a kid.” He hissed, shooting you a panicked glance. “You got no idea what them Delancey’s are like!”

You felt your skin crawl at the way he said the name ‘Delancey’. You used to be so proud of the name – it wasn’t your name by birth, but ever since your parents had dumped you on Delancey Street, you and your brothers had dragged yourselves out of the gutters and decided to take it anyways. Because no matter how hard people tried to stomp you down, you could take it and turn it into something great. That’s what being a Delancey meant.

You wondered when the name ‘Delancey’ stopped being a beacon of hope and started feeling like a chain wrapped around your leg.

“This one’s different.” Race said coolly, but you still noticed the way he shifted his stance a little so he was blocking you ever so slightly. The Delancey part of you wanted to feel insulted – the rest felt... Fuzzy, in a way. Like a soft blanket had been draped over you. It was weird.

It was interesting.

“Are you insane?!” The spectacle kid spluttered. “The first day of the strike, you said-!”

“I know what I said, and I changed my mind!”

The two newsies glared at each other fiercely, puffing themselves up in that way teen boys did. The way your brothers did before they started to beat each other into submission, no matter how much you screamed at them to stop.

“It’s okay.” You said quickly, stepping in between the two. “I shouldn’t’ve come, I’ll go.”

Race looked at you with confusion and something that looked dangerously close to disappointment.

“Wh- No, [Y/N], it’s okay, we want you here-!”

“I sure as hell don’t!” Spectacle kid snapped. A few newsboys murmured in agreement, refusing to look you in the eye.

“Hey, it ain’t like they’re the one who-“

“Race, it’s okay.” You said firmly. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble, and if me being here is going to do that, then fine, I get that. I understand. So just...” You shoved your first aid kit into his arms. “Take the kit, if anyone needs first aid they can come to you. You’re the second, right?”

Race blinked from you to the kit.

“Well – yeah, but I-“

He looked desperately at the kit and then at the newsboys, all busted and broken like wooden dolls. It was then that you started to realize just how young Race was – barely older than you, really, and clearly not the eldest boy in their group. He shouldn’t be in a deli bandaging his friends like a soldier bandaging his squadron in the barracks, he was just a kid, a kid that was so clearly out of his depth that it hurt.

“Excuse me?”

A soft voice broke you out of your spiralling.

The new boy – the one Weasel tried to rip off, the right hand man who was basically the brains of this whole operation, the one who had jumped onto a cart and yelled so bravely and rallied the newsies together – was now looking at you with the most painfully hopeful expression you’d ever seen.

His eyes were puffy. Red around the corners. His nose looked pretty sore. If you looked closely, you could see the tear tracks marring his cheeks. You wondered how old this strike leader even was.

“You know first aid?” He said quietly, but his voice pitched high with hope and desperation.

“Um.” You mumbled. “Uh – yeah, I’d patch up my brothers every time they-“

The spectacled boy shot you a fierce glare.

“I know first aid.” You finished lamely.

“Can you set broken bones?”

You fought the urge to gasp. How badly did the cops hurt these kids, how many kids got arrested, how many kids are rotting in the Refuge right now, how many kids are going to die because of fat old men denying them basic human rights, how many how many how many-?!

“If you need me to.” You shrugged, glancing at spectacle boy from the corner of your eye.

“Great.” The new boy beamed. “My name’s Davey. Follow me.”

New Boy Davey took you by the wrist and tugged you to the back of the deli. You wondered why it felt less fuzzy than it had with Race.

“Les?” Davey said quietly as he leaned under one of the tables. “Les, you can come out, it’s okay...”

A kid crawled out from under the table with his arm in a sling that had been crudely fashioned out of a table cloth. You winced in sympathy, your heart aching when he sniffled quietly into his sleeve.

“Hey, kid.” You smiled as best you could, leaning down so you could make proper eye contact. “What’s your name?”

The kid looked up at his brother with wide, frightened eyes. Davey smiled gently and placed his hand on the boys head. It almost covered him entirely. He was so small...

“Les.”

“Well, Les,” you said in a tone that hopefully didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “You must’ve been pretty brave fighting those bulls, huh?”

Les bit his lip and shifted on his feet.

“I didn’t fight all that much...” He mumbled. “They mostly jus’ wailed on me... Hurt me real bad...”

“Well, take it from someone who’s taken a few beatings,” you smirked. “It takes a lot of strength to get your arm busted and keep on going. You’re a tough kid.”

His lips twitched into a tiny smile.

“I guess I’m kinda tough...”

“Definitely tough.” You grinned. “Now I’m gonna need you to hold still for me, okay? ‘Cause I’m gonna take off this sling, and that’s gonna move your arm a little and it’s probably gonna hurt. So be tough, yeah? Your brother’s right here, you can go to him if it hurts too much, okay?”

Les nodded slowly, though he still looked a little reluctant.

“Okay...”

“Good kid.”

You dug through your kit and managed to find a roll of gauze and two pieces of cloth. You winced. Good, but not enough.

“Everythin’ okay?” Race asked.

“I don’t have enough stuff.” You muttered. “Should’ve brought some sticks, I should’ve known someone would have a broken bone-“

“Hey, hey, s’okay.” Race said quietly, rubbing his hand down your back in a way that made your body stand on edge for a moment – you weren’t used to touch like this. “We can find ya some sticks. Got any idea how long they gotta be?”

“Long enough to go down his forearm. Not super thin, thick enough to take up the middle of the arm.”

“Gotcha. What else?”

“Ice. It won’t take the pain away but it’ll take down the swelling and numb it up a little so that we can put the splint on without it hurting too bad.”

“Right.” Race whistled sharply and nodded at a redhead perched on a table. “Albert, c’mon! You take ice, I’ll get sticks – Jacobi’s gotta have some ice in the back, yeah?”

“Hopefully.” Albert shrugged, hopping off the table and following dutifully.

They came back in almost no time at all, depositing the supplies at your feet. The ice was fine and went straight into the cloth you’d set aside to hold it, but one look at the sticks told you they were far too dirty to be put near a wounded arm like this – god knew the last thing you wanted was the kid to get an infection. The boys had clearly grabbed the only kindling they could find, which was sweet, but it wouldn’t help.

“Hey, you.” You tapped the redhead’s shoulder. “You got a knife?”

Albert nodded, retrieving a flick-knife from his pants pocket.

“Perfect.” You handed him the sticks. “Whittle these down, go with the grain. If the kid gets a splinter on top of this, it’ll hurt like a bitch and be a pain to remove. And make sure there’s no sharp corners, we don’t want him in any more pain.”

“Bossy.” Albert smirked and shot Race a pointed look. “Beginnin’ to see why you’s so popular.”

You frowned at his remark. You’d hardly describe yourself as popular in general, especially not with the newsies. Still, apparently his comment deserved a firm punch in the arm from Race, because that’s exactly what Albert got, much to his discontent.

“Hey, c’mon, man! I’s just statin’ the obvio-“

“Are you going to keep distracting me, or are you going to shut up and let me work?” You huffed, fixing him with a sharp glare. Albert grinned and lifted up his arms in mock surrender, and you couldn’t help but feel your agitation fade away a little. The laid back and teasing nature of the newsies bond felt... Brotherly felt like too much of a word. But wasn’t that what brotherly was supposed to mean? Friendly, fond, kind? That had never been what ‘brotherly’ was to you – at least, not with your brothers...

You shook your head and set to work on Les’ arm quickly enough – Race held the ice over his arm carefully while you undid the sling and set his arm into a splint with the newly whittled sticks and your roll of gauze.

“Okay...” You murmured quietly as you knotted the new, clean sling over Les’ shoulder. “Done.”

“Perfect.” Davey breathed a sigh of relief. “And that’ll heal fine?”

“All I can do is set it. He’s gonna need to keep it rested and make sure not to move it if you want it to heal properly.”

Les nodded obediently and shot you a wide smile.

“Thank you!”

You couldn’t help but melt a little. The kid had been so brave, barely even whimpering when you pressed the sticks against his wounded arm. You removed his hat to ruffle his hair, then put it back on him backwards just to make him laugh.

“You were real brave, kid. And, um.” You turned to Race and Albert awkwardly. “Thanks for your help.”

“Ah, ain’t no problem!” Albert grinned before Race could say anything. “Anythin’ for a pretty thing like you, right, Racer?”

Race stomped on his foot, hard.

“Man down!” Albert cried dramatically. “Mutiny! I’m hit! Save me, doc!”

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly at their antics, a noise that made Race beam with delight.

“I think you’ll be just fine. Besides, I should probably be going now.” You tipped your hat at the newsboys and tried not to grimace at how loose it was. Morris had given it to you a while back; he’d shoved it on your head while you were walking home in January and muttered about how only an idiot walked around in the dead of winter without a hat. You compared that small show of affection, one that had meant so much to you at the time, to the newsies’ shows of affection – they showed their love for each other easily, slinging arms around each other, strong-arming each other into hugs, stuff like that... They didn’t have to hide their love behind insults or cruel words. The hat still meant a lot to you – you just wondered why your brothers, the people who were supposed to be there for you, had to constantly act like they didn’t love you at all.

“Been a pleasure.” You said quietly as you righted your hat back on your head. You tried not to make your disappointment too obvious – the last thing you wanted to do was guilt trip the newsboys into letting you stay. “And, um.” You gave Race an awkward punch to the shoulder, a far softer punch than any of the others your brothers had given you, or the ones you’d given them. “Nice seeing you, Racer.”

Race shot you a small smile. He reached up to thumb the spot where you hit his arm, and for a moment you worried that you’d hurt him, but the touch looked more... Fond than anything else.

“Actually,” a small voice piped up. “Could ya take a look at my wrist real quick? I can move it, but it’s real swollen, and it really hurts-“

“Yeah, and the cut on Finch’s arm’s lookin’ real messy-“

“Romeo’s eye’s still busted-“

Somehow, you wound up being shoved around the room, tending to each individual newsie and their injuries. While you had gained some of the newsies trust when you tended to Les and his injuries, some of the more sceptical newsies (specifically Specs) watched you cautiously. The part you should’ve found most annoying was Race hovering over your shoulder, glaring at any newsie who tried to stare you down or scare you away. You tried not to focus too hard on why you found it endearing instead.

“Okay,” you said slowly as you finished dabbing Romeo’s black eye. You tried not to dab at it too hard – god, you hated cops. They’d started leaving you and your brothers alone ever since your uncle took you in, and for a moment, you’d started to let yourself believe they’d changed. But no. They were the same people who’d drown you and your brothers in the gutters and throw you around in the Refuge. “That should take the swelling down.”

“Or...” Romeo grinned despite his busted eye. “My nana used to say kisses always made stuff hurt less. Care to give it a try?”

You snorted and flicked his forehead.

“No thanks, pal. And word to the wise – maybe don’t bring up your nana when you try to woo someone.”

“So close...” Romeo sighed and leaned back against Specs, who had been hovering behind him ever since you’d begun fixing up Romeo’s eye. Specs smiled and ruffled his hair fondly and oh. You blinked at Specs in surprise, and you could see panic begin to colour his features. You shot him a quick smile. He paused for a moment, looking at you carefully, before relaxing and returning the smile, albeit more nervously.

“Alright.” You clapped your hands together, which surprised yourself – you’d never been so loud or confident around your brothers before. “We all good here?”

“I got a problem, doc!” Albert grinned, waving his arm in the air. “Busted lip, might need someone to kiss it better for me!”

“Hey!” Romeo wailed from behind you. “That’s my move! Specs, he stole my move!”

You rolled your eyes and packed up your first aid kit.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” You said dryly, handing him back his knife. “But if you keep on jabbering like that, you may need to have that tongue amputated.”

“Yeah, Al.” Race huffed, swatting Albert upside the head. “Shaddup, will ya?”

“Yikes, tough crowd!” Albert snickered. “C’mon, Racer, don’t act like you wouldn’t-!”

“I said shaddup!” Race snapped, slapping his hand over Albert’s mouth.

You scoffed at their antics and decided to take your leave – the newsies, though they were still in low spirits, were certainly less quiet and more lively than they had been when you’d come in, and you’d patched them up as best you could. As much as you wanted to stay – as much as that strange, awkward part of you that you didn’t quite understand kept begging to be near Race and talk to him and maybe hold him properly instead of just punching his arm and no stop it stop it, you had done what needed doing and there was no reason for you to stay. After all, these weren’t your people.

You had gotten to the door unnoticed when Race grabbed you by the wrist.

“Hey, ya leavin’?” He asked, his smile still wide as ever, but his eyes a little less bright. “So soon? Y’ain’t even had lunch, yet.”

“Medda’ll have food for me.” You said sheepishly. Why was his hand so warm? “I don’t want to overstay-“

“Aw, c’mon! It’s a public space, y’ain’t overstayin’!”

You bit your lip awkwardly. God, you wanted to stay, but you knew you couldn’t – these weren’t your people, these were newsies, they didn’t like you, they didn’t want you here, you were just performing a service and if your brothers found out they’d – they’d...

You were jolted out of your spiral by a flurry of orange bursting through the door.

“Evening, boys!” Sang a reporter you recognized. She definitely didn’t work for the World, she wasn’t there enough to work there, but you’d seen her around a few times when you had started your workplace training. She even got called into Pulitzer’s office once, which was weird for a reporter who didn’t even work there.

A small murmur of acknowledgement spread through the deli.

“Oh, would you look at these glum mugs?” She said in a tone that bugged you. Of course their mugs were glum, they’d just been pelted into the ground. They were hurt, injured, most likely homeless with no family – something this obviously wealthy woman had never experienced. You forced yourself to shake it off – she was clearly a friend, and you had no right to judge if someone was being unfair to the newsies, what with everything your family had done. “Could these really be the same young men who made front page of the New York Sun?”

And just like that, it was as if a switch had been flipped. The boys leapt to their feet and swarmed around her to get a glimpse at the newspaper, all of them grinning ear to ear and laughing in delight. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy – how was it so easy for this woman to swoop in and make them all smile? She clearly hadn’t known them that long, so how was she able to cheer them up and be open with them with no struggle whatsoever? She made it look so easy – how could you even begin to do that?

“Check me out, fellas!” Race grinned, leaping onto a table. “I’m the king of New York, baby! I’m famous!”

“Call me when ya rich.” One boy snorted.

“Aw, ya don’t need money when ya famous!” Race waved him off. “Folks give ya whatever ya want, gratis! The next time I go to Sheepshead, they’s gonna be givin’ me my own personal box! Mush, you could get some new shoes, matchin’ laces, too! And Finch-“

“A haircut!” Finch cried. “A proper barbershop one, not my ma with her sewin’ scissors!”

“A haircut?” Another newsie scoffed. “If I’m famous, I ain’t gettin’ no lousy haircut – I’m gettin’ a watch, solid gold, and a chain to twirl it with! Try that on for size!”

Soon enough, all the newsies were chiming in with what they’d get now that they were famous, all more outlandish than the last. They were dancing around, cheering and celebrating, their wounds all pretty much forgotten about. You frowned up at where Race was engaging in a playful spoon fight with a small newsie – how had he done that? Just used a few pretty words and silly jokes to make all the newsies think that they were okay, that everything was fine, that they hadn’t-

That they hadn’t already failed.

You grit your teeth and marched out of Jacobi’s deli. You couldn’t believe it. For a moment, you’d thought you were the one in the right – that you’d had this brilliant revelation and seen the light, all thanks to stupid Racetrack Higgins. And now, all you could think about was your fight with Oscar.

“What, you think just because some newsie tells me a few jokes I’m gonna side with them over my own family?!”

“I think you’re a dumb kid mooning over a boy who lies for a living. And if you’re not careful, he’s gonna use that skill on you.”

You clenched your fists. You’d been right not to trust him that first day. He was a newsie, a lying newsie, a stupid handsome charming liar that actually made you believe you could be something more than a kid whose parents left them in a gutter and had to crawl their way out by themself.

You were better off with your brothers. You were better off living and dying under Uncle Wiesel’s hand. At least then, you hadn’t had any expectations.

“Hey, [Y/N]!”

You grit your teeth at that familiar foghorn voice. Stupid loudmouth, never should’ve given him the time of day, should’ve listened to Oscar-

“Where ya goin’?” Race smiled, and god you hated how easily that smile made you melt inside. Weak, weak, weak-

“I’m going home.”

Race’s smile dropped.

“Home, like... Back to Medda’s?” He said hopefully. You shot him a dry look.

“Home like my actual home.”

Race’s face fell. He looked conflicted, opening his mouth to say something before quickly thinking better of it, grabbing your hand and dragging you into a nearby alley.

“You can’t go back.” He said firmly, manoeuvring the two of you so that he blocked the way out of the alley. “[Y/N], you know you can’t.”

“It’s my home!”

“No, it ain’t!” Race snapped. “You know it ain’t! Those guys hurt you, and not just on the day of the strike! I see the way you flinch whenever someone moves to quick or comes too close.”

You felt your stomach drop. Oscar was right, you let it show, you let it show and now he knew.

“I don’t need your help.” You growled, clenching your fists. “I don’t need you to fix me, or send me to your fucking caretaker because you think I can’t handle myself.”

“That ain’t what I’m doing and you know it!”

“I don’t know anything about you!” You snapped. A greasy, slimy voice inside of you, one that sounded suspiciously like your uncle, told you to shove him, punch him, show him you were stronger and better than he was, better than the weak little kid who needed saving that he thought you were. You wanted to, a little. But no. You couldn’t hurt Race. Even if all his kind words had been lies, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Weak, the voice sneered.

“I don’t know shit about you.” You snarled. “You’re a liar, all you newsies are. You lie for a fucking living!”

“I never lied to you!”

“You just lied to them!” You yelled, gesturing at Jacobi’s. “You lost, Race. The newsies? They lost. And you’re here dancing on tables and telling everyone everything’s fine when it’s not and convincing them that they can do things that they can’t and I won’t! Fall for it anymore!”

“But I didn’t-!”

“No, no, it all makes sense now!” You said, waving your arms and pacing the alleyway as you ranted. “You come up one day and you see me laugh at one of your dumb jokes and you think oh, now I have an in with the Delancey’s and, and you tell me all these stupid jokes and you laugh at me and smile at me like you – like you like me because you know no one else does! And then you strike and you make me feel guilty for what, sticking with my family?! Like anyone else would?! And you get me to leave them and punch out my own brothers and you take me to your fucking mother or whatever and have her act like she cares about me and-“

“Do you even hear yourself?!” Race snapped. “You think I only talked to you to, what, trick you into joinin’ a strike that hadn’t even started yet?! You think I planned on you leavin’ ya family and jumping into the fray so I could send you to Medda’s, who I somehow already spoke to despite planning a fucking strike – yeah, figure that one out! – just so I could fool you into coming to Jacobi’s for what, free first aid?! Do you even hear how crazy that sounds?! How is it so easy for you to think that but so fucking impossible for you to believe that I care about you?!”

“Stop it!” You cried, slapping your hands over your ears and pressing hard, like maybe you could press all these stupid thoughts out of your head. “Just stop it, just stop!”

Race paused for a moment, his eyes flicking over your panicked expression with sad eyes. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t wanna yell at you.” He said gently, too gently, far more gently than you deserved. “But I dunno what else to do here, [Y/N]. I dunno how you expect me to – to prove to you how much I care about you.”

You couldn’t help it. Your eyes flicked down to his mouth. Race frowned, his expression morphing from confusion then realization then downright shock horror.

“Wait.” He said, taking a step backwards (recoiling, disgusted, angry, run, run, run-). “Wait-“

“I’m sorry.” You said quickly, like you couldn’t spit the words out fast enough. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve done that, I can leave-“

“No, [Y/N]-“

“I’ll go now, I’ll go and I won’t come near you again, I swear it-“

“[Y/N]-“

“Just don’t tell my uncle! Or my brothers, please don’t tell my brothers, they’ll never let me-“

“[Y/N].” Race said firmly, and it was only then that you noticed how he’d been inching towards you as you rambled. He placed a hand on the wall, just above your shoulder, and another on your jaw. If it were anyone else, you would’ve knocked it away, punched him to the ground, do anything to make sure you got the high ground and he didn’t. But this didn’t feel like anyone else. It didn’t feel like he was boxing you in, or forcing you, or making you feel trapped. Every move was calculated and precise, always punctuated with a raised eyebrow, as if asking permission, before following through. It was careful, soft – if you weren’t a Delancey, you’d call it sweet.

He ran his thumb over your cheekbone.

It was sweet.

“Quit talkin’ so much, wouldja?”

You breathed out a frustrated huff. Race was close enough that it made his curls bounce.

“Oh, that is rich, coming from you of all-“

“[Y/N].” Race said firmly. “Stop talkin’.”

There’s no sunshine or rainfall, no sparks or fireworks. There’s just Race. Race and the taste of cigar smoke and Race and the bite of the brick wall against your back and Race and Race and Race.

It’s incredible and it’s terrifying, all at the same time. You can feel your stone heart melting with each gentle press of his lips, each stroke of his hands against your waist and your jaw, each awkward bump of his nose against yours as the angle shifted, until he held your heart like warm, malleable clay just waiting to be pressed and handled into something more.

That, or he could squash it between his hands. Throw it onto the floor and step on it. Burn it in a kiln until it was reduced back to a bitter lump of stone.

“I can hear ya thinkin’,” Race muttered into your skin as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek. “Why ya thinkin’ so much, sweetheart?”

The nickname makes you shiver, and you can’t stop yourself from loving it.

“I’m thinking...” You murmured as Race’s forehead pressed against yours. “My brothers are gonna kill me for this.”

Race grumbled in the back of his throat.

“Please don’t talk about ya brothers while we’s-“

You kiss him before he can finish. He holds your clay heart ever so gently, smoothing his thumbs over any cracks until it’s smooth and warm and glowing.

It’s sweet.

(tag list: @annabethgranger123 @farfromjustordinary @yxseminx @oswin05 @theater-geek76 @wnygirl2012 )

#newsies #newsies x reader #racetrack higgins x reader #racetrack higgins #heart of stone

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zayashmaya · 3 years

Note

Okay but there is definitely some low key thing with Galekh going on. Would you elaborate? 👀

you caught me red-handed with that one ... i have Plans for galekh in my fic.

luna and galekh are really close, not just because tagora is a common denominator, but because they work well together on their own. luna is patient and thinks galekh’s rambling is endearing, and she tends to babble when she’s nervous so galekh appreciates having another motor mouth on his team lol and they are both great listeners.

an important aspect of galekh is that he is surprisingly adventurous and open to experiences. luna is right up his alley with that one because boy does she think of some wild shit sometimes. everyone would think she’d be a complete moron to go on a cross-country drive just for sight-seeing but galekh is just like well obviously i have to go with her. he’s a great combination of ride-or-die, adventurous, but far more responsible (and stronger) than luna. good bodyguard 10/10

so yah galekh is overprotective of luna and yet he is in awe of her free spirit. luna thinks he’s a big lovable softie with a hilariously sassy attitude. neither of them are aware of how perfect they are for a stable red quadrant. it’s so obvious to literally everyone else and yet it be like dat.

galekh is first to realize how much he likes her. tagora is far more willing to poke holes in galekh’s brain to make him see the light rather than talking about it with luna. normally he WOULD talk it out with her, but tagora has actually never seen her be so unaware of her feelings towards someone. she’s always been gung-ho about romance and never shies away from emotions, but for some reason she’s got a huge mental block with galekh. tagora suspects it’s because she’s still holding on to her feelings for marvus and also because she tends to fall for emotionally unavailable people.

anyway yes eventually she realizes What’s Up and starts dating galekh with tagora’s complete approval. this poly is so healthy and stable i have a lot of thoughts on these three idiots.

where are lanque and marvus in all this? lel

lanque weasels his way into troll kpop and marvus runs from his feelings.

listen if karkat and dave can pine for each other for YEEEARS then i’m allowed to add some complexity to luna’s life. not all relationships end in marriage and not all relationships last. marvus is very young, very successful, and very driven. he has big plans and he’s very accustomed to keeping people at a distance. combined with his paranoia over keeping a quad mate safe, and not having much time for them, well ... marvus has a lot of thinking and growing and living to do. and that’s okay. sometimes people are at different points in their lives. eventually they might meet in the middle again.

lanque is too much of a pussy-whipped hatestruck bitch to stay away from luna for too long though don’t worry bout that mess.

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offspring-of-calliope · 3 years

Text

Pins and Needles (Newsies Gang AU)

Chapter 2

Description: Davey and Les arrive at the circulation gate and Davey is kind of already regretting all his life decisions.

words: 1730

warnings: Again, this chapter doesn't need any warnings, I guess.

A/N: I don’t really know what to add here but again, like always, it’d be nice if you’d leave a comment on this (even if you just want to hate on my terrible English skills). I know, this chapter consists mostly of the dialogue from the musical but I promise that the next chapter is fully canon divergence - whether that’s a good thing or not - but I mean, Katherine will be in the next chapter so I guess it’s a good thing.

Then, I’d like to dedicate this chapter to @newsies-is-my-erster because she’s a really cool person and I’m glad that someone likes my works, so shout-out to you.

Like always, I hope all of you enjoy it at least a little bit,

Sincerely, me,

Lélodie

-----

Les was practically floating through the streets of Manhattan, always turning and jumping and waving around the wooden sword that had been his latest birthday gift.

“Les, please, don't run out of my sight,” David pleaded at one point but his brother only grimaced.

“Oh, come on, Dave! We're going on an adventure! Why do you always have to be such a spoilsport? Aren't you at least a little excited?” Les had been looking extra proud when he'd used the word spoilsport. It was one of the words that he'd always call grown-up words and every time he learned one of these words he had to use it as often as he could to underline the fact that he wasn't a baby any more.

David thought about his last question for a moment. Of course he was relieved that they'd finally found a way to support their family financially but on the other hand, he just wanted to return to his school, to people he knew – even if they weren't exactly his friends. For a split second, he contemplated turning around, going home and explaining to Sarah that he couldn't spy on the Manhattan Newsies because he hadn't been able to find the circulation gate. It didn't take long for him to realise that this would have been a poor excuse. He could hear the singing and chatting boys from miles away.

A wave of anxiety washed over him as he laid eyes on the horde of boys that were swarming around the circulation gate. The Manhattan Newsies were loud. He was aware of the fact that the Brooklyn Newsies were loud people as well but in Brooklyn, there'd always been this sense of order beneath their expressive attitude. Manhattan was just – pure chaos as far as he could see.

A smile spread over Les' face and he tagged on David's shirtsleeves eagerly. “You're slowing down again, David. Don't worry. You've got me to protect you if someone threatens you.” He made some motions with his wooden sword again, as if to emphasize his statement. “Let's go, okay?”

David hesitated, looking helplessly from Les' thrilled big eyes to the heap of boys, only a few feet away. Then, he nodded. “Alright. But don't forget what you promised me right now.” He playfully ruffled Les' hair. Neither him nor Sarah had told Les what the actual purpose behind the sudden decision to sell newspapers in Manhattan had been but David was fairly sure that Les knew anyway. The kid was so much smarter than he gave him credit for sometimes.

Due to the fact that there were too many boys at the circulation gate, David wasn't able to recognize any faces, yet that lifted the weight off his chest a little. If he didn't really regard any of the boys, maybe they wouldn't notice him as well.

He knew that he was doing a bad job at spying considering he zoned out so as to not hear what the people around him were saying but right at the moment he couldn't care less. There were too many voices at once right now, so he just hoped that after having bought their papers, the boys would split up in little groups soon so that he could start concentrating on several smaller conversations.

It was a miracle that he noticed when a mocking voice said: “Have a look at this. A new kid.”

“I'm new, too!” Les added, offended.

David thought that he heard a little “Don't worry, kid. It rubs right off” in the background but he was too overwhelmed to concentrate on that. He simply settled for: “I'll take twenty newspapers, please.”

“Twenty for the new kid,” the grown up that had addressed him said to one of the two angry looking boys next to him and looked at David expectantly. “Now, let's see the dime.”

Confused, David blinked. “I'll pay you when I sell them.”

“Funny, kid. Come on, cash up front.” The man made some kind of grabbing gesture with his hand.

“But whatever I don't sell, you pay back, right?” David insisted.

The man groaned and rolled his eyes. “Seems like I have to, now. Courtesy of the little Pulitzer brat.”

David was a bit taken aback by the casual use of an insult, yet pulled out some money and gave it to the man. In return, he received his twenty newspapers. He registered that after him, some boys began talking to the man he got the papers from but he only concentrated on counting the papers. One was missing.

“Sorry, excuse me. I paid for twenty newspapers but you gave me nineteen,” he objected.

“Do you know how nice I was to this new kid?” The man that was handing out the papers said and David began to mentally prepare his answer.

That was when he felt someone taking the nineteen newspapers from his hand forcefully. He wanted to protest but when he laid eyes on the boy who had taken his papers he suddenly didn't know what words were. The pure display of confidence in the boy's posture was almost intimidating. There was a gleam of mischief in his eyes that led to the impression that the boy was up to no good, yet did know exactly what he was doing. To say that he was intriguing would be an understatement.

“And what do I get for my civility? Ungrounded accusation.” The voice of the unfriendly man who gave out the newspapers brought David back to reality.

“I just want what I paid for.” David was very glad that he'd already thought of an answer before he'd gotten distracted by the intriguing boy.

“He said beat it!” One of the boys that stood next to the man said, even angrier looking than a few minutes ago.

“Woah, new kid's right, Weasel, you gave him nineteen,” exclaimed Intriguing Boy and held his hands up high. “Hey, I'm sure it's an honest mistake on account of Oscar cannot count to twenty with his shoes on.” With a crooked grin, he handed David his papers back.

The man – Weasel? - took another paper from his pile and shoved it into David's hand.

David aimlessly reached for Les' hand that wasn't holding the wooden sword and wanted to fade into the background, silently hoping that he could stay away from Intriguing Boy and wouldn't have to interact with him more than absolutely necessary. The boy proved to be too distracting.

But the odds were against him. “Hey, give the new kid fifty more papes,” Intriguing Boy said to Weasel.

“I don't want more papers,” David declared, hoping to get his point across.

He didn't expect all the flabbergasted looks he received from all the other Newsies. “What kind of Newsie don't want more papes?”

“I'm no charity case. I don't even know you.” David was surprised at the steadiness in his own voice.

He felt Les letting go of his hand and saw him running up to a higher position to point at Intriguing Boy. “His name's Jack!”

“This here is the famous Jack Kelly,” chimed in another boy, who was leaning on a crutch. His eyes shone with pride and admiration. “He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage, made all the papes.”

No. Oh no. This couldn't be. What had he done the last months that God wanted to punish him like this? He couldn't possibly spy on the Manhattan Newsies – on their leader Jack Kelly – when said leader looked and acted like this! David was, once again, at a loss of words.

“How old are you, kid?” Jack asked Les, oblivious to David's aghast state.

“I'm ten – almost!” Les exclaimed with his head held high. He clutched his sword to his chest and David wondered how his little brother could blend in with the other Newsies that well.

“Well, if anyone asks you're seven. Younger sells more papes and if we're gonna be partners -,” Jack began, throwing David off once more.

“Who said we want a partner?” David asked, finally looking fully at Jack.

“Selling with Jack is the chance of a lifetime. You learn from him, you learn from the best,” Crutch Boy explained.

“If he's the best, then what's he need with me?” David became aware of the fact that he was causing quite a scene right now and was on the best way to blow up his mission. He should be grateful for the opportunity to get close to Jack. Jack was the source he could use to find out everything about the Manhattan Newsies. But for some reason, he wanted to keep his distance from the Intriguing Boy. He just didn't know why.

“'Cause you got a little brother and I don't. That puss could easily sell a thousand papes a week. Hey, look sad, kid,” Jack responded. Enthusiastically, Les did as he was told. Jack let out a laugh and David noticed that his mimic was so lively that it was nearly infectious.

But David only scoffed.

“This is my brother David, I'm Les,” Les introduced them both in lack of a response from David.

“Nice to meet ya, Davey. My two bits come off the top, then we split everything 70 – 30.”

David didn't know what was more off-putting. The use of the nickname or the way Jack wanted to split their income.

“50 – 50! You wouldn't try to pull a fast one on a little kid!” Les objected.

“60 – 40 and that's my final offer.”

Les looked at David. Everything in David screamed No. But then he remembered Sarah. The look on her face, the desperation and the dedication. He had to. For her. So he nodded. “Deal,” Les said.

With that crooked smile of his, Jack spit in his hand and held it out for Les. Les mimicked him and shook his hand eagerly.

“That's disgusting,” David couldn't help but comment.

“That's just business,” Jack contradicted.

David registered that he added something to that statement but his mind was running around in circles. The day hadn't even truly started and he was already longing for it to end.

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #Javid #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #les jacobs #crutchie #racetrack higgins #sarah jacobs #writer #writing #canon era #newsies musical

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the-firebird69 · 1 year

Text

So I pulled into the power sport bike dealer in punta Gorda that's only like one downtown and a bunch of assholes in there and Brian's garage is out filming all the bikes because they just sit there all year and there's more of them beside it's not less and they don't sell. And that's the way of collecting things and hanging on to him but they have them out there and display every day they also don't sell it before wheelers. Save some jacked up guy out front and they're trying to piss me off as well and they change the prices on Kawasaki online and the guy quoted me seven Grand for a 400 and this weasel John Reema Lord quoted seven Grand for a 230 thinking I'd buy it or something he's a stone cold f****** loser and so on the way out I said I'm related to Mr Honda and you guys don't have any Hondas and I said you know what I mean right they still don't get it I think so I'm going to ask my father and mother who are that they're not paternal to remove their license for selling Kawasaki because they're misrepresenting the company and as many employees

Zues Hera me too I hate these people the name shouldn't be with them in any way

We're going to remove their license to sell our Kawasakis and we're talking to Suzuki and Yamaha and Honda they said they didn't have it but they do so he's going to remove it right away they're a bunch of assholes and they're not going to sell any bikes because we won't sell them any Chinese and you agree of course and we're going to go to court with them over it cuz they're doing it for months the way they are like a big hassle so I'm going to take them down and we're going to use it

Mr Kawasaki Mrs Kawasaki God and Goddess of Japan

The boy you people are freaks and you're stupid and you're playing Maggie and they're already pissed off at you and they're going to nail you it is what they're saying they need the stuff the money and you're useless c********** running around seeing you have the program and you don't and the researched it you don't have Dave's ai and he's not using it in a sunset he's wouldn't use it and we know he's not using it maybe the boy that's so ridiculous show and here comes the fire they trying to kidnap him of course engine number one capital t something yellow plate heading north on 41 it's time to clear them out too

We're glad our father and mother from Japan got involved this has been a terrible thing for them for a long time have these people swear and cuss and say stupid things about the bikes they don't even know how to run them and they mess them up themselves the guy doesn't even know how to put fuel in that bike because he's an idiot and they're very angry at them and they show you a bike that you don't fit on he says it's okay it kind of fit I can lower it it's true too it would be perfect and he says he can look it up elsewhere and the try and block him that's the intend on doing and they're going to get taken apart for the sneaking up on him and they don't think so but they're heading for it now these people are all dying and don't know it and they're rude as hell and a son says and our daughter if they know they're worse and it's true

Thor Freya

He also says he likes telling them it gets rid of them

Olympus we approved this message and thought I said that last part

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

march.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: as always, a very special thanks to aimz for making this whole series happen. you’re my right hand babes! couldn’t do it without you. this installment comes to you live from the Fucked Season 11 Timeline (that aimz, of course, helped me build). enjoy!

words: 900 warnings: language, pregnancy, canon-typical gambling (lmao)

summary: “bond didn't defend the practice. he simply maintained that the more effort and ingenuity you put into gambling, the more you took out.” ― ian fleming, casino royale. au!november 2015

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

edited for continuity august 31st, 2021

“And, just like that, what will hopefully be my last book is in print!” Dave shows off the final manuscript with a flourish, dropping it in the middle of the conference room table.

You laugh with the rest of the team, offering all manner of congratulations and well-wishes, but your heart isn’t really in it. Aaron disappeared to the upstairs office after one phone call upon your arrival to the federal building this morning and you haven’t seen him since.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t worried. Montolo has been causing trouble lately, and it has everyone wound pretty tight.

On top of all that, you’ve been meaning to find a time to tell the team about the baby, maybe take everyone out to dinner or something, but everything seems to be moving so fast you can hardly sit down, let alone share anything about your personal lives.

You are pushing it though. You’re starting to show and you’ve had to let out your work pants as they get tighter, cover the tightness of your shirts with coats and cleverly-tied blazers, etc. Today, it’s a sweatshirt.

Fuck it. It’s Saturday.

Aaron and Emily walk in, looking more than a little concerned. You meet his eyes and offer him the smallest of smiles. He barely returns it - it’s more in his eyes than his mouth.

“It seems the time for good news is over,” Emily says. “Unless anyone else has anything life-changing to share.” There’s a note of sarcasm in her voice, but your eyes inadvertently flicker to Aaron.

After a moment, you check to make sure you haven’t given yourselves away.

You miss Dave, studying you both. “Something tells me we’re not finished with the good news.” He laces his fingers. “Am I right?”

The room quiets and everyone looks at you, the subject of Dave’s scrutiny. You clear your throat and Aaron rounds the table, standing behind you with his hands braced on the back of your chair. “Is anyone doing anything in March?” You ask. “Say… around the twenty-fourth?”

They all look a little puzzled, some shaking their heads just the barest amount.

You can’t hold back the smile on your face as you tell him, “Just checking. I would hate to interrupt any prior engagements with a trip to Walter Reed.”

Aaron snorts. Smooth.

You tap his hand. Shut up.

Aaron snorts and Derek frowns. “What do you -”

All at once, the confusion clears from his face, leaving him with a blinding smile. “You’re kidding.”

You shake your head. “March 24th. A boy.”

Derek leaps out of his chair and meets you in the middle, picking you up and swinging you in a circle. When he lets you go, he clasps Aaron’s hand in his, grabbing onto his shoulder. They exchange a few words, but your ears are buzzing so much you can’t hear them.

Dave appears out of nowhere, taking your face in his hands and kissing you on both cheeks before planting a kiss right on your mouth.

You laugh, smacking his chest. “Don’t get fresh with me, Dave. I’m married now.”

“Never stopped me before.” He winks at you.

“Wait!” Emily stops all of you. “March? March 24th?”

You look at her, turning over your shoulder. “…Yeah.”

“I knew it!” Her voice is a triumphant shout. “It’s November. You got married in September and you’re due in March. You said spring when you told me. That math does not add up.” She looks unfairly smug. “It doesn’t add up, does it JJ?”

JJ shakes her head. “Nope.”

“Pay up, Tara. That’s fifty.” Emily holds out her hand.

Tara, looking rather hassled, pulls out her wallet and unearths some folded bills. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Mhmm.” Emily snatches them from her hand, counting fifty. “You’ve been holding on to this for a while. I’m surprised you even had it on you.”

Tara shrugs. “Can’t be caught unprepared, Prentiss.”

Aaron looks at Emily like she’s grown a second head.

You imagine you look much the same. “You put money on this? That’s not fair.”

JJ explains, looking at you as she pulls out her wallet. “We had a bet on whether you were pregnant at the wedding or not. The second bet -”

“Whoa.” Aaron stops her, holding a hand out. “Second bet?”

“Well, yeah, Hotch, if you’d let me finish,” JJ continues with a sardonic look to your section chief. “I was going to say the second bet was how far along. So.” She turns to you again. “How many weeks?”

With a sigh, you try to remember. “Twelve?” Looking up at Aaron for confirmation, you still don’t sound sure when you repeat yourself. “Twelve.”

As usual, he delivers a prompt confirmation. “Twelve.”

You turn back to JJ. “Twelve.”

With a smirk, she puts her wallet away and holds out her hand. “Gimme my cut, Em. I’ve earned it.”

You scoff and look to Emily again. “What was the bet?”

“I bet eight, JJ bet twelve.”

Aaron wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your temple. “So much for a case briefing - it seems our predictability has bit us in the ass once more, my darling.”

Everyone’s laughing, and maybe, just maybe, you let yourself feel a little joy.

+++

tagging: @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @prentisswrites @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @luciilferss @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @vagabond-ing @rebel-flying @jhiddles03 @nuvoleincielo @rqgnarok @ssa-volturi @reidyoulikeabook @schlooper @itsmytimetoodream @bau-baby @ssagube @oreogutz @lexieshuntingsstuff @saintsmotels @hotchestie @mosiacbrokenhearstf @hsbavery @soupyamanda @ohhersheybars @marvelousmsmaggie @anything-and-everything20 @bau-baby @whosscruffylooking @enilledam @teachingpanda @panhoeofmanyfandoms @anxious-enby @sreidbau

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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love-pyramus · 3 years

Note

RACETRACK: In 1899, the street of New York City echoed with the voices of newsies, peddeling the newspapers of Joseph Pulitzer, William Randolph Hearst and other giants of the newspaper world. On every street corner you saw 'em, carrying the banner, bringing you the news for a penny a pape. Poor orphans and run-aways, the newsies were a ragged army, without a leader, until one day when all that changed.

(The movie title appears. We see the outside of the Newsboys Lodging House. Inside, Kloppman, the owner, enters the bunkroom, finding the boys still in bed.)

KLOPPMAN: Boots! Skittery! Skittery! Skittery!

SKITTERY: Wha..I didn't do it!

KLOPPMAN: What do you mean you didn't do it? Will you get up? When you get up, it's time to get up! Snitch! Get up! Get up! Everybody's sleeping. They sleep their lives away these kids! The presses are rolling! Sell the papers, sell the papers! Come on, come on. You dreaming about selling papers?

JACK: Mmmmmm? What's the matta with you?

KLOPPMAN: What's the matter with me?

JACK: What's the matta with you? Wanna..go..back..to..

KLOPPMAN: Come on! (gives him a shove)

JACK: Get away from me, you're mad!

KLOPPMAN: Haha. Get up boy! Come on. Alright! Carry the banner! Sell the papers!

(Racetrack looks around for his cigar, noticing that Snipeshooter has it)

*Start Song*

RACETRACK: That's my cigar!

SNIPESHOOTER: You'll steal anudder!

KID BLINK: Hey bummers, we got work tah do!

KID: Since when did you become me mudder?

CRUTCHY: Aww, stop your bawling!

NEWSIES: Hey, who asked you?

MUSH: So, how'd you sleep Jack?

JACK: On me back Mush.

MUSH: Ha ha. Hear that fellas? Hear what Jack said? I asked Jack how he slept and he said 'On me back Mush'

CRUTCHY: Jack, when I walk, does it look like I'm faking it?

JACK: No. Who says you're faking it?

CRUTCHY: I dunno. It's just there's so many fake crips on the street today, a real crip ain't got a chance. I gotta find me a new selling spot where they ain't used to seeing me.

MUSH: Try Bottle Alley or the harbour

RACETRACK: Try Central Park, it's guaranteed

JACK: Try any baker, bum, or barber

SKITTERY: They almost all knows how to read

KID BLINK: I smell money

CRUTCHY: You smell foul!

MUSH: Met this girl last night

CRUTCHY: Move your elbow!

RACETRACK: Pass the towel!

SKITTERY: For a buck I might!

NEWSIES: Ain't it a fine life Carrying the banner through it all? A mighty fine life Carrying the banner tough and tall Every morning, we goes where we wishes We's as free as fished Sure beats washin' dishes What a fine life Carrying the banner home-free all!

(The newsies leave the Lodging House and head towards Newsies Square)

Summer stinks and winter's waiting Welcome to New York Boy, ain't nature fascinating When you'se gotta walk? Still, it's a fine life Carrying the banner with me chums A mighty fine life Blowing every nickel as it comes

CRUTCHY: I'm no snoozer Sitting makes me antsy I likes living chancy

NEWSIES: Harlem tah Delancey What a fine life Carrying the banner through the slums

NUNS: Blessed children thought you wonder lost and depraved Jesus loves you, you shall be saved!

PATRICK'S MOTHER: Patrick, darling Since you left me, I am undone Mother loves you God save my son!

(Sung in counterpoint)

RACETRACK: Just give me half a cup

KID BLINK: Something to wake me up

MUSH: I gotta find an angle

CRUTCHY: I gotta sell more papes

VARIOUS NEWSIES: Papers is all I got Wish I could catch a breeze Sure hope the headline's hot All I can catch is fleas God help me if it's not Somebody help me, please..

(End counterpoint)

NEWSIES: If I hate the headline, I'll make up the headline And I'll say anything I hafta 'Cause it's two for a penny, if I take too many Weasel just makes me eat 'em afta

(Sung in counterpoint)

1. Look! They're putting up the headline They call that a headline? I get better stories from the copper on the beat I was gunna start with twenty but a dozen'll be plenty Tell me, how'm I gonna make ends meet?

2. What's it say? That won't pay! So where's your spot? God, it's hot! Will ya tell me how'm I gonna make ends meet?

(End counterpoint)

NEWSIES: We need a good assassination! We need an earthquake or a war!

SNIPESHOOTER: How 'bout a crooked politician?

NEWSIES: Hey, stupid, that ain't news no more! Uptown to Grand Central Station Down to City Hall We improves our circulation Walkin' til we fall!

(Sung in counterpoint)

1. Still we'll be out there Carrying the banner man to man! Yes, we'll be out there Soaking every sucker that we can! See the headline Newsies on a mission Kill the competition Sell the next edition While we're out there Carrying the banner is the...

2.Look, they're putting up the headline They call that a headlin The idiot who wrote it must be working for the Sun Didja hear about the fire?

3.Heard it killed old man Maguire!

2.Heard the toll was ever higher

3.Why do I miss all the fun?

2.Hitched it on a Trolly

3.Meetcha Forty-Fourth and Second

2.Little Italy's a secret

3.Bleecker's further than I reckoned

2.At the courthouse

3.Near the stables

2.On the corner someone beckoned and I....

(The Delancey brothers, Oscar and Morris, enter.)

RACETRACK: Dear me! What is that unpleasant aroma? I fear the sewer may have backed up during the night

BOOTS: Nah, too rotten to be the sewers.

CRUTCHY: It must be the Delancey brudders.

RACETRACK: Hiya boys!

OSCAR:(to Snipeshooter) In the back, you lousy little shrimp. (Oscar throws Snipeshooter to the ground. Jack goes to help him up)

RACETRACK: It's not good to do that. Not healthy

JACK: You shouldn't call people lously little shrimps, Oscar, unless you're refering to the family resemblance in your brudda here.

RACETRACK: 5-1 that Cowboys skunks 'em. Who's betting?

JACK: That's right. It's an insult. So's this

(Jack knocks Morris' hat off his head. The Delancey's chase Jack around the Square. David and Les enter and watch until Jack bumps into them.)

DAVID: What do you think you're doing?

JACK: Runnin'!

NEWSIES: (Sung in counterpoint)

1.It's a fine life Carrying the banner through it all A mighty fine life Carrying the banner tough and tall See the headline Newsies on a mission Kill the competition Sell the next edition What a fine life Carrying the banner!

2.Would you look at the headline You call that a headline? I get better stories from the copper on the beat I was gonna start with twenty but a dozen'll be plenty Would you tell me how'm I ever gonna make ends meet Hitched it on a Trolly Meetcha Forty-Fourth and Second Little Italy's a secret Bleecker's further than I reckoned By the courthouse, near the stables On the corner someone beckoned! Go get 'em Cowboy! You've got 'em now boy!

(End counterpoint)

NEWSIES: Go!

WORLD EMPLOYEE: These is for the newsies!

(The newsies line up for their papes, congratulating Jack on beating the Delancey's)

MORRIS: See you tomorrow, Cowboy

OSCAR: You're as good as dead, Cowboy

JACK: Oh Mr. Weasel.

WEASEL: Alright, alright! Hold your horses! I'm coming, I'm coming.

JACK: So, didja miss me Weasel? Huh, did you miss me?

WEASEL: I told ya a million times, the name's Wisel. Mr. Wisel to you. How many?

JACK: Don't rush me, I'm perusing the merchandise Mr. Weasel. The usual.

WEASEL: 100 papes for the wise guy. Next!

RACETRACK: Morning your honor! Listen, do me a favor, spot me 50 papes? I got a hot tip int the fourth, you won't waste your money.

WEASEL: It's a sure thing?

RACETRACK: Yeah. Not like last time.

WEASEL: 50 papes! Next!

CRUTCHY: Heya Mr. Wisel.

RACETRACK: See anything good this morning?

WEASEL: 30 papes for Crutchy! Next!

JACK:(to Les) You wanna sit down?

DAVID: 20 papers please. Thanks.

RACETRACK: Look at this, 'Baby Born With Two Heads'. Must be from Brooklyn.

WEASEL: Hey, you got your lously papes, now beat it!

DAVID: I paid for twenty. I only got nineteen.

WEASEL: Are you accusing me of lying kid?

DAVID: No. I just want my paper.

MORRIS: He said beat it!

JACK: No, it's nineteen. It's nineteen, but don't worry about it. It's an honest mistake. I mean, Morris here can't count to twenty with his

shoes on. Hey Race, will ya spot me 2 bits? Another 50 for my friend.

DAVID: I don't want another 50.

JACK: Sure you do. Every newsie wants more papes.

DAVID: I don't. I don't want your papes. I don't take charity from anyone. I don't know you. I don't care to. Here are your papes.

LES: Cowboy. They called him Cowboy.

JACK: Yeah, I'm called that and a lot of other things, including Jack Kelly, which is what me mudder called me.what do they call you kid?

LES: Les, and this is my brother David. He's older.

JACK: No kidding. So how old are you Les?

LES: Me? Near 10.

JACK: Near 10. Well, that's no good. if anyone asks, you're 7. You see, younger sells more papes and if we're gonna be partners, we wanna

be the best.

DAVID: Wait. Who said anything about being partners?

JACK: Well, you owe me 2 bits right? Well, I'll consider that an investment. We sell together, we split 70-30, plus you get the benefit of observing me, no charge.

DAVID: Ah-ha.

JACK: (mocking) Ah-ha.

CRUTCHY: You're getting the chance of a lifetime here, Davey. You learn from Jack, you learn from the best.

DAVID: Well, if he's the best, then how come he needs me?

JACK: Listen,I don't need you, pal,but I ain't got a cute little brudder like Les here to front for me. With this kid's puss and my God-given talent, we could move a thousand papes a week. So what do you say Les? You wanna sell papes with me?

LES: Yeah!

JACK: So we got a deal?

DAVID: Wait. It's got to be at least 50-50.

JACK: 60-40, I forget the whole thing.

(David holds out his hand. Jack spits on his hand and reaches for David, who pulls his arm away.)

JACK: What'sa matta?

DAVID: That's disgusting!

(By this time, the rest of the newsies have gotten their papers and are moving out into the street.)

JACK: The name of the game is volume, Dave. You only took twenty papes. Why?

DAVID: Bad headline.

JACK: That's the first thing you gotta learn. Headlines don't sell papes, newsies sell papes. You know, we're what holds this town together.

Without newsies, nobody knows nothing.

(A girl hurries past and the newsies take off their hats and make a few comments)

SPECS: Baby born with three heads!

(The newsies begin to yell out various headlines as the spread out over the streets. We go into Pulitzer's office where Pulitzer is reading the headline. Also in the room is Jonathan, Seitz and another World employee.)

PULITZER: 'Trolly Strike Drags On For Third Week' and this so called headline drags on for infinity.

EMPLOYEE: News is slow, Mr. Pulitzer. The trolly strike's all we've got.

PULITZER: Well, that's all Mr. William Randolph Hearst has too, but look how he covers the strike. Look! Look!

EMPLOYEE: We'll get a new headline writer, sir.

PULITZER: Steal Hearst's man. Offer him double.

SEITZ: That's how he stole him from us. It's not the headlines, Chief. The circulation wars are cutting into our profits because you spend as much as you make trying to beat Hearst.

PULITZER: Then we need to make more money. You do not penny-pinch when you're in a war, Seitz. Victory means everything. Now, when I created the world... what is that deafening noise?

JONATHAN: Just the newsies, sir. I'll go have them quieted.

PULITZER: Never mind the newsies. Where was I?

SEITZ: Creating the world, Chief.

PULITZER: There's lots of money down there, gentlemen. I want to know how I can get more of it...by tonight.

(We are now in the streets of New York. Jack and David roam through the crowds.)

DAVID: Extra! Extra! Trolly strike drags on!

JACK: Extra! Extra! Ellis Island in flames!

DAVID: Wait, where's that story?

JACK: Thank you sir. Page 9. Thousands flee in panic. Thank you. Much obliged to you ladies.

DAVID 'Trash Fire Next To Immigration Building Terrifies Seagulls'??

JACK: Terrified flight of inferno!! Thousands of lives at stake! Extra! Extra! Thank you sir. Extra! Extra!

(Les enters)

JACK: Hey, you start in the back like I told you? Ok, show me again.

LES: (coughs) Buy me last pape, mista?

JACK: It's heartbreaking kid. Go get 'em.

DAVID: My father taught us not to lie.

JACK: Well, mine told me not to starve, so we both got an education.

DAVID: You're just making up things. All these headlines.

JACK: I don't do nothing the guys who write it don't do. Anyway, it's not lying, it's just improving the truth little.

(Warden Snyder enters and see Jack. Les re-enters)

LES: The guy gave me a quarter. Quick, give me some more last papers.

DAVID: Wait, wait. You smell like beer.

LES: Well, that's how I made the quarter. The guy bet me I wouldn't drink some.

JACK: Hey, no drinking on the job. It's bad for business. And what if somebody called the cop on you?

DAVID: (pointing to Snyder) Is he a friend of your's?

JACK: Beat it! It's the bulls!

LES: All this over one sip of beer?

(Snyder chases Jack, David and Les through the streets, and into a building. They run up the stairs and get to the roof. Without stopping for a second, Jack jumps off the roof, leaving David and Les alone. Jack's head pops up and David and Les join him on a ledge just as Snyder enters.)

SNYDER: Sullivan! Wait til I get you back to the Refuge!

(Jack leads David and Les a little more, when David pulls him to a halt outside Irving Hall)

DAVID: I'm not running any further.

(Jack leads the two brothers inside.)

DAVID: I want some answers.

JACK: Shhh!

DAVID: Who was he and why was he chasing you? And what is this Refuge?

JACK: The Refuge is a jail for kids. That guy chasing me was Snyder, the warden.

LES: You were in jail?

JACK: Yeah.

LES: Why?

JACK: Well, I was starving, so I stole some food.

DAVID: Food?

JACK: Yeah, food.

DAVID: He called you Sullivan.

JACK: Well, my name's Kelly. Jack Kelly. You think I'm lying?

DAVID: Well, you have a way of improving the truth. Why was he chasing you?

JACK: 'Cause I escaped.

LES: Oh boy! How?

JACK: Well, this big shot gave me a ride out in his carriage.

DAVID: I bet it was the mayor.

JACK: No, Teddy Roosevelt. You ever heard of him?

MEDDA: What's going on there? Out! Out! Out!

JACK: You wouldn't kick me out without a kiss goodbye, wouldja Medda?

MEDDA: Oh Kelly. Where ya been, kid? Oh, I miss seeing you up in the balcony.

JACK: Hanging on your every word. So Medda.

MEDDA: Yes.

JACK: This is David and Les.

MEDDA: Hello.

JACK: And this is the greatest star of the vaudeville stage today, Miss Medda Larkson, the Swedish Meadowlark.

MEDDA: Welcome, gentlemen.

JACK: Medda also owns the joint.

MEDDA: Oh, what do we have here? Oh, aren't you the cutest little thing that ever was? Yes you are.

LES: (cough) Buy me last pape, lady?

MEDDA: Oh, you are good. Oh yes, this kid is really good. Speaking as one professional to another, I'd say you have a great future.

JACK: So, is it alright if we stay here for a little while, Medda? Just until a little problem outside goes away.

MEDDA: Sure,stay as long as you like. Toby, just give my guests whatever they want.

ANNOUNCER: And now gents, the moment you've all been waiting for. The sensational songbird. The Swedish Meadowlark, Miss Medda Larkson.

(Medda goes on stage. Jack, David and Les watch from backstage.)

MEDDA: My lovey dovey baby I boo-hoo-hoo for you I used to be your tootsie-wootsie Then you said 'tooldle-dedoo' I miss the hanky-panky Each nighty-night til three Come back my lovey dovey baby And coochie-coo with me!

(After the show, the boys go outside)

JACK: So, you like that?

DAVID: Oh,I loved that. I loved it. It was great. She is beautiful. How do you know her?

JACK: She was a friend of me fadder's. Come on, Les, you wanna shine me shoes for me?

DAVID: Oh, it's getting late. My parents are going to be worried. What about your's?

JACK: Nah, they're out west looking for a place to live, like this. (Pulls out a Santa Fe brochure) See, that's Santa Fe, New Mexico. As soon as they find the right ranch, they're gonna send for me.

LES: Then you'll be a real cowboy.

JACK: Yup.

(Fire and loud crashes are heard. The boys run and see a riot breaking out. A group of men are beating up another man.)

DAVID: Jack! Why don't we go to my place and divi up. You can meet my folks.

JACK: It's the trolly strike, Dave. These couple of dumb-asses must not have joined or something.

DAVID: Jack, let's get out of here.

JACK: So, maybe we'll get a good headline tomorrow, Dave. Look at this, he slept the whole way threw it.

(Jack picks up Les from the bench where he fell asleep. They enter David's house.)

ESTER: My God. What happened?

DAVID: Nothing, mama. He's just sleeping.

MAYER: We've been waiting dinner for you. Where have you been? (David puts a pile of coins on the table.)

MAYER: You made all this selling newspapers?

DAVID: Well, half of it's Jack's. This is our selling partner, and our friend. Jack Kelly, my parents. And that's my sister, Sarah.

MAYER: Ester, maybe David's partner would like to join us for dinner. Why don't you add a little more water to the soup?

(He kisses her. She shoves him away playfully)

ESTER: Mayer!

(After dinner, they talk as Sarah clears the table.)

JACK: So, from wat I saw today, you're boys are a couple of born newsies. Can I have some more?

SARAH: Yes.

JACK: So with their hard work and my experience,I figure we can peddle a thousand papes a week and not even break a sweat.

MAYER: That many?

JACK: More when the headline's good.

SARAH: So what makes the headline good?

JACK: Oh, you know. Catchy words like maniac, or corpse, umm..lovenest, or nude. Excuse me. Maybe I'm talkin' too much.

MAYER: Sarah? Go get the cake your mother's hiding in the cabinet.

ESTER: That's for your birthday tomorrow!

MAYOR: Well, I've had enough birthdays. This is a celebration.

DAVID: I'll get the knife.

SARAH: I got the plates.

DAVID: This is only the beginning, papa. The longer I work, the more money I'll make.

MAYER: You'll only work until I go back to the factory, and then you are going back to school, like you promised.

SARAH: Happy birthday, papa.

MAYER: This is going to heal, and they'll give me my job back. We'll make them

(Les stirs, but doesn't wake up in bed.)

LES: Come back my lovey dovey baby And coochie-coo with me!

(David and Jack start laughing)

ESTER: And what is this David?

(The boys try to stop laughing, but can't. Scene: LATER THAT NIGHT, on David's fire escape)

JACK: So, how'd your pop get hurt?

DAVID: At the factory. It was an accident. He's no good to them anymore, so they just fired him.

(Mayer appears at the window.)

MAYER: David, it's time to come in now.

DAVID: Alright. Jack, why don't you stay here tonight?

JACK: Ah, no, thanks. I got a place of my own. But you're family's real nice, like mine.

DAVID: See you tomorrow.

JACK: Alright.

DAVID: Carrying the banner.

JACK: Carrying the banner.

(David goes inside, leaving Jack alone on the fire escape. He looks in the window and see the family together.)

JACK: So that's what they call a family Mudder, fadder, daughter, son Guess everything you heard about it's true. So you ain't got any family Well, who said you needed one? Ain'tcha glad nobody's waiting up for you? When I dream on my own I'm alone, but I ain't lonely For a dreamer, night's the only time of day When the city's finally sleeping When my thoughts begin to stray And I'm on the train that bound for Santa Fe And I'm free Like the wind Like I'm gonna live forever. It's a feeling time can never take away All I need's a few more dollars And I'm outta here to stay Dreams come true Yes they do In Santa Fe Where does it say you've gotta live and die here? Where does it say a guy can't catch a break? Why should you only take what you're given? Why should you spend your whole life livin' Trapped where there ain't no future Even at seventeen Breaking your back for someone else's sake If the life don't seem to suit ya How bout a change of scene? Far from the lously headlines And the deadlines in between Santa Fe Are you there? Do you swear you won't forget me? If I found you would you let me come and stay? I ain't getting any younger And before my dying day I want space Not just air Let 'em laugh in my face, I don't care Save a place I'll be there So that's what they call a family? Ain'tcha glad you ain't that way? Ain'tcha glad you got a dream called Santa Fe?

(Jack ends up outside the Lodging House. As he enters, he meets up with Racetrack)

JACK: Heya Race.

RACETRACK: Hey Jack.

JACK: How was your day at the track?

RACETRACK: Remember that hot tip I told you about? Nobody told the horse.

(Pulitzer, Seitz and Jonathan are sitting it Pulitzer's office.)

PULITZER: I know we need to make more money. That's why we're here, to find out how to make more money.

JONATHAN: I have several proposals. First, to increase the paper's price.

PULITZER: Then Hearst outsells me and I'm in the poorhouse. Brilliant, Jonathan, brilliant.

JONATHAN: Not the customer's price. The price to the distribution apparatus.

SEITZ: Charge the newsies more for their papers? Bad idea, Chief.

JONATHAN: Very well. My next proposal, salary cuts. Particularly those at the top.

SEITZ: Very bad idea, Chief.

PULITZER: Wait. What do the newsies pay now? 50 cents for 100 papers? If you raise it to 60 cents..

JONATHAN: A mere tenth of a cent per paper.

PULITZER: Multiply by 40, 000 papers a day? 7 days a week?.

JONATHAN: It definitely adds up, sir.

SEITZ: If you do this, every newsie we've got will head straight for Hearst.

PULITZER: You don't know Hearst like I do, Seitz. As newspapermen, he and I would cut each other's throats to get an advantage. But as gentlemen, as businessmen, if also see eye to eye on certain things. Now, if we do it, Hearst and I, if we do it, then the other papers will do it.

SEITZ: It's going to be awfully tough on those children.

PULITZER: Nonsense, nonsense. It'll be good for them. Incentive, make them work harder, sell more papers. They'll look on it as an advantage.

(Outside the World building, the newsies have gathered. Jack joins them)

KID BLINK: They jacked up the price! You hear that Jack? Ten cents a hundred! You know, it's bad enough that we gotta eat what we don't sell, now they jack up the price! Can you believe that?

SKITTERY: This'll bust me, I'm barely making a living right now.

BOOT: I'll be back sleeping on the streets.

MUSH: It don't make no sense. I mean, all the money Pulitzer's making, why would he gouge us?

RACETRACK: Because he's a tight wad, that's why!

JACK: Pipe down, it's just a gag. So, why the jack up Weasel?

WEASEL: Why not? It's a nice day. Why don'tcha ask Mr. Pulitzer?

KID BLINK: They can't to this to me Jack.

RACETRACK: They can do whatever they want. It's their stinkin' paper.

BOOTS: It ain't fair. We got no rights at all.

RACETRACK: Come on, it's a rigged deck. They got all the marbles.

MUSH: Jack, we got no choice, so why don't we get our lousy papes while they still got some, huh?

JACK: No! Nobody's going anywhere. They can't get away with this!

LES: Give him some room, give him some room. Let him think.

RACETRACK: Jack, you done thinkin' yet?

WEASEL: Hey! Hey! Hey! World employees only on this side of the gate!

JACK: Well, listen. One thing for sure, if we don't sell papes, then nobody sells papes. Nobody comes through those gates until they put the price back to where it was.

DAVID: You mean like a strike?

JACK: Yeah, like a strike!

RACETRACK: Are you out of your mind?

JACK: It's a good idea!

DAVID: Jack, I was only joking. We can't go on strike, we don't have a union.

JACK: But, if we go on strike, then we are a union, right?

DAVID: No, we're just a bunch of angry kids with no money. Maybe if we got every newsie in New York, but...

JACK: Yeah, well we organize. Crutchy, you take up for collection. We get all the newsies of New York together.

DAVID: Jack, this isn't a joke. You saw what happened to those trolley workers.

JACK: Yeah, well that's another good idea. Any newsie don't join with us, then we bust their heads like the trolley workers.

DAVID: Stop and think about this Jack. You can't just rush everybody into this

JACK: Alright. Let me think about it. Listen. Dave's right. Pulitzer and Hearst and all them other rich fellas, I mean, they own this city, so do they really think a bunch of street kids like us can make any difference? The choice has got to be yours. Are we just gonna take what they give us, or are we gonna strike?

LES: Strike!

BOOTS: Keep talking Jack, tell us what to do!

JACK: Well, you tell us what to do Davey.

DAVID: Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect our rights.

JACK: Hey listen! Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect the rights of the working boys of New York! Well, that worked pretty good, so what else?

DAVID: Tell them that they can't treat us like we don't exist.

(Begin Song)

JACK: Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we're nothing. Are we nothing?

NEWSIES: No!

DAVID: If we stick together like the trolley workers then they can't break us up.

JACK: Pulitzer and Hearst, they think they got us. Do they got us?

NEWSIES: No!

DAVID: We're a union now, the Newsboys Union. We have to start acting like a union.

JACK: Even though we ain’t got hats or badges We’re a union just by saying so And the World will know!

BOOTS: What’s to start somebody else from selling our papes?

JACK: Well, what’s wrong with them?

RACETRACK: Some of them don’t hear so good!

JACK: Well then we’ll soak ‘em!

DAVID: No! We can’t beat up kids in the streets. It’ll give us a bad name.

CRUTCHY: Can’t get any worse.

JACK: What’s it gonna take to stop the wagons? Are we ready?

NEWSIES: Yeah!

DAVID: No!

JACK: What’s it gonna take to stop the scabber? Can we do it?

NEWSIES: Yeah!

JACK: We’ll do what we gotta do until we Break the will of mighty Bill and Joe!

NEWSIES: And the World will know And the Journal too! Mr. Hearst and Pulitzer Have we got news for you! Now the World will hear What we’ve got to say We’ve been hawking headlines But we’re making ‘em today. And our ranks will grow!

CRUTCHY: And we’ll kick their rear!

NEWSIES: And the World will know that we been here!

JACK: When the circulation bell starts ringing Will we hear it?

NEWSIES: No!

JACK: What if the Delancey’s come out swinging’ Will we hear it?

NEWSIES: No! When you’ve got a hundred voices singing Who can hear a lousy whistle blow? And the World will know That this ain’t no game That we got a ton of rotten fruit and perfect aim So they gave their word But it ain’t worth beans! Now they’re gonna see what ‘stop the presses’ really mean And the day has come And the time is now And the fear is gone

BOOTS: And their name is mud!

NEWSIES: And the strike is on

BOOTS: And I can't stand blood!

NEWSIES: And the World will..

JACK: Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won’t whip us!

NEWSIES: Pulitzer may crack the whip but he won’t whip us! And the World will know And the World will learn And the World will wonder how We made the tables turn And the World will see That we had to choose That the things we do today Will be tomorrow’s news And the old will fall And the young stand tall And the time is now And the winds will blow And our ranks will grow And grow and grow and so The World will feel the fire And finally know!

NEWSIES: Strike! Strike! Strike! (etc.)

JACK: We gotta get word out to all the newsies of New York. I need some of those….what’dja call ‘em?

DAVID: Ambassadors?

JACK: Yeah, right. Okay, you guys, you gotta be ambastards and go tell the other that we’re on strike.

KID BLINK: Say, Jack, I’ll take Harlem

RACETRACK: Yeah, I got Midtown.

MUSH: I got the Battery, Jack.

CRUTCHY: Hey, I’ll take the Bronx.

JACK: Alright. And Bumlets, and Specs and Skittery, you take Queens. Pie Eater! Snoddy! East Side! Snipeshooter, you go with ‘em. So, what about Brooklyn? Come on, Spot Conlon’s territory. What’sa matta? You scared of Brooklyn?

BOOTS: Hey, we ain’t scared of Brooklyn. Spot Conlon makes us a little nervous.

JACK: Well, he don’t make me nervous. So you and me, Boots, we’ll go to Brooklyn. And Dave here can keep us company.

DAVID: Sure, just as soon as you delivery our demands to Pulitzer.

JACK: Me? To Pulitzer?

DAVID: You’re the leader, Jack.

JACK: Well, maybe the kid’ll soften him up.

(Jack and Les enter the World Building. The newsies cheer)

NEWSIES: Strike! Strike! Strike! (etc.)

(The newsies go off in different directions. Denton enters and approaches David.)

DENTON: Hey, what is the strike? What’s going on?

DAVID: We’re bringing out demands to Pulitzer.

DENTON: What demands?

DAVID: The newsies demands. We’re on strike.

DENTON: I’m with the New York Sun. Bryan Denton. You seem like the kid in charge. What’s your name?

DAVID: David

DENTON: David. David as in David and Goliath? You really think old man Pulitzer’s going to listen to your demands?

DAVID: He has to. (Jack and Let thrown out the door.)

JACK: Well, so’s your old lady! You tell Pulitzer he needs an appointment with me!

LES: Yeah!

(Jack, David, Les and Denton are sitting in a booth in Tibby’s Restaurant.)

JACK: So this snooty mug says to me, ‘You can’t see Mr. Pulitzer. No one sees Mr. Pulitzer.’ Real hoity-toity, you know the type?

LES: Real hoity-toity.

JACK: So that’s when I says to him, ‘Listen, I ain’t in the habit of transacting no business with office boys. Just tell him Jack Kelly’s here to see him now!’

LES: That’s when he threw us out.

DENTON: Does he scare you? You’re going up against the most powerful man in New York City.

JACK: Oh yeah, look at me. I’m trembling.

DENTON: Alright, keep me informed. I want to know everything that’s going on.

DAVID: Are we really an important story?

DENTON: Well, what’s important? Last year I covered the war in Cuba. Charged up San Juan Hill with Col. Teddy Roosevelt. That was an important story. So, is the newsie’s strike important? That all depends on you.

JACK: So my name’s really gonna be in the papers?

DENTON: Any objections?

JACK: Not as long as you get it right. It’s Kelly, Jack Kelly. Oh, and Denton? No pictures.

DENTON: Sure Jack. (Jack, David and Boots start across the Brooklyn Bridge.)

DAVID: I’ve never been to Brooklyn, have you?

BOOTS: I spent a month there on night.

(Jack and Boots lean over the side and scream at the top of their lungs.)

DAVID: So, is this Spot Conlon really dangerous?

(The boys get to Brooklyn. There are a lot of tough looking boys.)

BROOKLYN NEWSIE: Going somewhere, Kelly?

(Jack pushes past him. David and Boots follow.)

SPOT: Well, if it ain’t Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.

JACK: I see you moved up in the world, Spot. Got a river view and everything.

(The two boys spit-shake.)

SPOT: Heya Boots. How’s it rollin’?

BOOTS: I got a couple of real good shooters.

(Spot takes the marbles and takes out his sling shot.)

SPOT: Yeah. So, Jacky-boy. I’ve been hearing things from little birds. Things from Harlem, Queens, all over. They been chirpin’ in my ear. Jacky-boy’s newsies is playing like they’re going on strike.

JACK: Yeah, well we are.

DAVID: We’re not playing. We are going on strike.

SPOT: Oh yeah? Yeah? What is this, Jacky-boy? Some kind of walking mouth?

JACK: Yeah, it’s a mouth. A mouth with a brain, and if you got half a one, you’ll listen to what he’s got to say.

DAVID: Well, we started the strike, but we can’t do it alone. So, we’re talking to newsies all around the city.

SPOT: Yeah, so they told me. But what’d they tell you?

DAVID: They’re waiting to see what Spot Conlon is doing, you’re the key. That Spot Conlon is the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York, and probably everywhere else. And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they join and we’ll be unstoppable. So you gotta join, I mean... well, you gotta!

SPOT: You’re right Jacky-boy, brains. But I got brains too, and more than just half a one. How do I know you punks won’t run the first time some goon comes at ya with a club? How do I know you got what it takes to win?

JACK: Because I’m telling you, Spot.

SPOT: That ain’t good enough Jacky-boy. You gotta show me.

(The boys go back to Newsies Square, where the rest of the newsies wait.)

RACETRACK: Jack. So, where’s Spot?

JACK: He was concerned about us being serious. You imagine that?

RACETRACK: Well, Jack, maybe we ought to ease off a little. Without Spot and the others, there ain’t enough of us, Jack.

MUSH: Maybe we’re moving too soon. Maybe we ain’t ready, you know?

SKITTERY: I definitely think we should forget about it for a little while.

JACK: Oh, do ya?

SKITTERY: Yeah.

RACETRACK: Yeah, I mean, without Brooklyn… you know?

JACK: Spot was right, is this just a game to you guys?

(Begin Song)

DAVID: Open the gates and seize the day Don’t be afraid and don’t delay Nothing can break us No one can make us Give our rights away Arise and seize the day!

DAVID AND NEWSIES: Now is the time to seize the day Send out the call and join the fray

DAVID: Wrongs will be righted if we’re united

DAVID AND NEWSIES: Let us seize the day! Friends of the friendless seize the day Raise up the torch and light the way Proud and defiant We’ll slay the giant Let us seize the day

Neighbor to neighbor Father to son One for all and all for one! Open the gates and seize the day Don’t be afraid and don’t delay Nothing can break us No one can make us Give our rights away Neighbor to neighbor Father to son! One for all and all for one!

(The circulation bell begins to ring)

JACK Anybody hear that?

NEWSIES No!

JACK: So what are we gonna do about it?

NEWSIES: Soak ‘em!

(The newsies and the scabbers have a stand off. 3 scabs join with the newsies, but then a bug scab comes up against Jack. He tries to get by, but can’t. The newsies start soaking the scabs, who eventually run away. They tear up the newspapers. Jack starts making faces and blowing raspberries at Weasel, Oscar and Morris through the distribution window.)

MORRIS: I’m gonna crack your dome!

(The tearing of newspapers continue. A delivery cart is pushed onto it’s side. Weasel calls for the cops, who enter blowing whistles.)

JACK: Cheese it! Cheese it, it’s the bulls!

(All the newsies run, except Crutchy, who doesn’t notice)

RACETRACK: Crutchy! Scram! Scram!

(Crutchy starts to leave, but is blocked in by cops. He turns to find the Delancey brothers behind him. They knock his crutch aside and drag him away. Denton has been watching all of this. THAT NIGHT- Jack and David walk to the Refuge. Jack has a rope in his hands)

JACK: So here it is. The Refuge. My home, sweet home.

DAVID: How can you be sure they sent him here?

JACK: How can I be sure the Delancey’s stink? It’s just how things work, you know? An orphan gets arrested, Snyder makes sure he gets sent straight here, so he can rehabilitate him. The more kids in the Refuge, the more money the city sends to take care of them, the more Snyder sticks it in his pocket. He’s here.

DAVID: So how come you brought the rope?

(A carriage exits the Refuge. Jack and David hind in the shadows. As the guard talks with the nuns, the two boys sneak by. On the roof, David lowers Jack, who has the rope tied around his waist. Jack gets level with the window.)

JACK: Steady. Steady, Dave. That’s good.

(Jack knocks on the window. A boy around Les’s age opens it.)

TEN PIN: Hey. Cowboy. You miss the joint?

JACK: What do ya say, Ten Pin. You got a new guy in here. Crutchy.

TEN PIN: The gimp? I’ll get him for ya.

JACK: Hey Crutchy.

(With the help of a boy, Crutchy limps to the window.)

CRUTCHY: I don’t believe it. What are you hanging around here for?

JACK: What do you mean what am I hangin’ around here for? You know who’s on the roof?

CRUTCHY: Who?

JACK: Dave.

CRUTCHY: Is that Dave? Heya Dave! How ya doin’?

DAVID:: Shhh.

JACK: Listen, Crutchy, go get your stuff. We’re gonna get you outta here.

CRUTCHY: Well, actually, I ain’t walking so good. Oscar and Morris kindda worked me over a little bit, you know?

JACK: They hurt you? Don’t worry about it. Me and Dave, we can carry you outta here.

CRUTCHY: I don’t want nobody carrying me, you hear? Hey, Dave! You know, they still talk about how Jack rode outta here on that coach.

DAVID: Oh, yeah. Teddy Roosevelt’s, right?

CRUTCHY: You already heard the story.

DAVID: You mean it’s true?

CRUTCHY: Of course. Hey! Cheese it!

(Snyder enters and inspects the room. Jack swings to the side, out of site. As Snyder is about to look out the window, Crutchy grabs his arm.)

CRUTCHY: Mr. Warden Snyder, sir. You know, I was thinking. I’d just like you to know that when you were taking a nap this afternoon…

(Crutchy leads Snyder away from the window and Jack leaves. THE NEXT MORNING- Pulitzer, Weasel and Seitz are inside Pulitzer’s office.)

SEITZ: I don’t think they’re just going to go away, Chief.

WEASEL: Mr. Pulitzer, sir, just give me the means and I’ll take care of them for ya.

PULITZER: I’ll give you whatever means you require. I want this nonsense down with once and for all.

SEITZ: Chief…

PULITZER: Shut you mouth, Seitz

(Weasel and Seitz leave. Snyder looks out the window to the square where the newsies have gathered.)

NEWSIES: Open the gates and seize the day Don’t be afraid and don’t delay Nothing can break us No one can make us Give our rights away Arise and seize the day

(The boys dance in the square and block the entrance to the World building. A delivery cart rushes through. The newsies and scabs have another stand off.)

DAVID: Alright. Everyone remain calm.

JACK: Let’s soak ‘em for Crutchy!

(The newsies charge towards the scabs, who retreat. A large door opens and big men with clubs and chains come out)

RACETRACK: Jack! Jack!, the Crib!

(the men form a circle around Jack so none of the newsies can help him. The gates shut and Denton can’t get in to help.)

OSCAR: Heya Jacky-boy (Jack faces a man with a chain. Outside, Denton tried to get in.)

DENTON: Aren’t you going to stop them, sir?

POLICEMAN: Move along, mister.

(Just as all hope seems lost for Jack, a bunch of newsies appear on the rooftops, including Spot.)

SPOT: Never fear, Brooklyn is here.

MUSH: It’s Brooklyn!

(The newsies start to soak the Crib, the Brooklyn boys using their sling shots. Racetrack throws his hands in the air and sit on a ledge….)

RACETRACK: Hey, I give up. Alright, alright. I give up.

(…then kicks the guy *you know where*)

JACK: Hey, Spot!

(Shots of Newsies punching the scabs. First Racetrack, then Jack, Kid Blink and another. Skittery get hits and falls back. Newsies catch him)

DAVID: Are you alright?

(Before he can answer, the newsies push him back up and he punches the man back. Spot opens the gates and the Brooklyn gang join. They force the Crib back. The newsies cheer and tear some more papers. Denton enters with him camera.)

DENTON: Jack! Boys! Freeze! Freeze!

JACK: Alright guys

(Denton takes the picture. Jack is the only one ready for it. The others all have weird expressions on their faces. The picture turns black and white and appears on the cover of the New York Sun under the headline ‘The Children’s Crusade; Newsies Stop the World’. NEXT DAY- The newsies are in Tibby’s. Denton enters with the paper.)

DENTON: Hey fellas. Hey, hey! Big time.

BOOTS: What you got there Jack?

SPOT: Where’s me picture? Where’s me picture?

BOOTS: What’s that? That all about us?

MUSH: Look at that Jack. You look like a gentlemen

JACK: Will you get your fingers off me face?

SPOT: Where does it say my name? Where’s my name?

JACK: Will you quit thinking about yourself?

DAVID: You got us on the front page!

DENTON: You got yourselves on the front page. I just got to make sure you stay there.

SKITTERY: So what. You get your picture in the papes, so what’s that get you, huh?

MUSH: What are you talkin’ about?

JACK: Shut up, boy. You been in a bad mood all day!

SKITTERY: I’m not in a bad mood!

RACETRACK: Glum and dumb. What’s the matta with you? You get your picture in the papes, your famous. Your famous, you get anything you want. That’s what so great about New York!

(Begin Song)

MUSH: A pair of new shoes with matching laces

RACETRACK: A permanent box at Sheepshed Races.

SPOT: A porcelain tub with boiling water

KID BLINK: A Saturday night with the mayor’s daughter!

RACETRACK: Look at me I’m the King of New York! Suddenly I’m respectable Staring right atcha Lousy with stature

JACK: Nubbin’ with all the muckety-mucks I’m blowin’ my dough and goin’ deluxe!

RACETRACK: And there I’ll be Ain’t I pretty?

RACETRACK & JACK: It’s my city I’m the king of New York!

BOOTS: A corduroy suit with fitted knickers

LES: A mezzanine seat to see the flickers

SNIPESHOOTER: Havana cigars that cost a quarter

DAVID: An editor’s desk for our star reporter!

NEWSIES: Tip your hat He’s the King of New York!

DENTON: How ‘bout that? I’m the King of New York!

NEWSIES: In nothing flat He’ll be covering Brooklyn to Trenton Our man Denton

KID BLINK: Making a headline out of a hunch

DENTON: Protecting the weak

RACETRACK: And paying for lunch

DENTON: When I’m at bat Strong men crumble

RACETRACK: Proud yet humble

DENTON & RACETRACK: I’m/He’s the King of New York

NEWSIES: I gotta be either dead or dreaming ’Cuz look at that pape with my face beaming Tomorrow they may wrap fishes in it But I was a star for one whole minute! Starting now I’m the King of New York!

DENTON: Ain’t you hear? I’m the King of New York!

NEWSIES: Holy cow! It’s a miracle Pulitzer’s crying Weasel? He’s dying! Flashpots are shooting bright as the sun I’m one hifalutin’ sonuva gun! Don’t ask me how Fortune found me Fate just crowned me Now I’m King of New York! Look and see Once a piker Now a striker I’m the Kin of New York! Victory! Front page story Guts and glory I’m the King of New York!

(The newsies cheer and gather around a table)

JACK: So, let’s have some ideas.

DAVID: Well, we gotta show people where we stand

JACK: Yeah, so we gotta stay in the papes.

DENTON: My paper’s the only one printing any strike news so far

JACK: So, we should do something that’s so big the other papers’ll feel stupid if they try to ignore us. Like a rally. A newsie rally with all the kids from all over New York. It’ll be the biggest, loudest, noisiest blow-out this town’s ever seen!

DAVID: We’ll send a message to the big boys

RACETRACK: Geesh, I’ll give ‘em a message.

(A waiter brings a tray of cokes. Each newsie grabs a glass.)

JACK: There’s a lot of us, and we ain’t going away. We’ll fight until damn Doomsday if it means we get a fair shake.

DAVID: Hey, guys. To out man Denton.

NEWSIES: Our man Denton!

(The newsies lift their glasses in a toast. IN THE REFUGE- Crutchy knocks on Snyder’s door and enters.)

CRUTCHY: Heya Mr. Snyder. How was your supper?

(As he begins to put the plates on a tray, Crutchy notices Snyder looking at the paper, particularly at Jack’s picture.)

CRUTCHY: Hey! That’s Jack. He looks just like himself.

SNYDER: You know this boy?

CRUTCHY: No.

SNYDER: You have a very famous friend, this Jack. Do you know where he lives?

CRUTCHY: I never heard of him, honest! It’s this brain of mine, it’s always making mistakes. It’s got a mind of it’s own. Can I get you anything else, Mr. Snyder? Good bye Mr. Snyder.

(Crutchy leaves, realizing his mistake. THAT NIGHT- The newsies are making signs for the rally. Dutchy’s sign says ‘STRIKE’)

DUTCHY: So, did I spell it right, Kloppman?

KLOPPMAN: Very good, very good.

(Snyder enters and starts going through Kloppman’s book)

KLOPPMAN: Excuse me. Can I help you?

SNYDER: You have a boy who calls himself Jack Kelly? I wish to see him

KLOPPMAN: Jack Kelly? Never heard of him. Never heard of him. Any of you boys ever hear of a Jack Kelly?

SPECS: That’s an unusual name for these parts.

(Jack enters, but Swifty stops him and points Snyder out to him)

RACETRACK: Oh, you mean Jack Kelly. Yeah, he was here, but he put an egg in his shoe and beat it.

SNYDER: I have reason to believe he’s an escaped prisoner, possibly dangerous.

KLOPPMAN: Oh, dangerous? I better look in my files. This way please.

(Kloppman distracts Snyder and Jack exits. The boys hold up signs to hide him)

RACETRACK: Give to the Newsies Strike fund, Mister?

(Snyder hands Racetrack a coin. THE NEXT MORNING- Sarah wakes up and looks out the window. She sees Jack on the fire escape)

SARAH: Did you sleep out there all night?

JACK: Yeah

SARAH: Why didn’t you wake us up?

JACK: Well, I didn’t want to disturb nobody. Besides, it’s like the Waldorph out here. Great view. Cool air

SARAH: Go up on the roof.

(Jack leaves so Sarah can get dressed. While he waits, he boxes with some stockings and steals a tomato off a plant. Sarah enters with a basket.)

SARAH: Are you hungry?

JACK: Yeah

SARAH: Good. I made you breakfast

(She lays down a clothe and gets the food and milk.)

SARAH: Papa’s so proud of you and David. You should hear him talking about Jack Kelly, strike leader, who occasionally takes his meal with us.

JACK: Well, this is one strike leader who’s gonna be very happy when it’s all over and I can get outta here and go to Santa Fe. I mean, there’s nothing for me to stay for, is there? You know, you should se Santa Fe, everything’s different there. It’s all bigger. The desert, the sky, the sun

SARAH: It’s the same sun as here

JACK: Yeah, it just looks different

SARAH: I should get ready for work

JACK: Sarah? I’m just not used to having whether I stay or whether I go matta to anybody. I’m not saying it should matta to you. I’m just saying, well, does it? Matta?

(Pulitzer is in his office with the Mayor, the Police Chief, Snyder and Seitz. He is looking at the paper and has Jack’s face circled.)

MAYOR: Of course, the city is very concerned that this event doesn’t get out of hand. But…Chief?

CHIEF: We can’t just charge in there and break it up, Mr. Pulitzer. We’ve got no legal cause.

MAYOR: Legal cause.

PULITZER: Would the fact that this rally is organized by an escaped criminal be cause enough, mayor?

MAYOR: Escaped criminal?

PULITZER: A fugitive from one of your prisons, mayor. A convicted thief. Been living at large for some time under the allis of Jack Kelly. What’s his real name?

SNYDER: Sullivan. Francis Sullivan. Your honor. I would have caught him before now, but..

PULITZER: You know Warder Snyder, don’t you mayor? I believe you know him because you appointed him.

MAYOR: Yes. Well, if this boy’s a fugitive then the chief can quietly arrest him.

PULITZER: No, no, no, no! Not quietly! Not quietly! I want an example made. I want this rabble he’s roused to see what happens to those who would dare to lead. They should see justice and action.

MAYOR: Arrest him at the rally?

PULITZER: By the way, mayor, a few friends for cards tonight. Newspaper friends. Billy Hearst, Gordon Bennett. Perhaps you’ll join us. Talk about the coming election.

MAYOR: I’d be honored.

(Newsies are gathering outside Irving Hall. Inside, Jack, David and Spot are on stage. Jack quiets everyone)

JACK: Carryin’ the banner!

(The newsies stand up and cheer.

MEANWHILE- In Pulitzer’s study, men are sitting at a table, playing cards. Pulitzer leads the mayor around the table)

PULITZER: You know Gordon, mayor. Mr. Bennett of the Tribune. Mr. Taylor of the Times. Of course, you know Mr. Hearst. This is a new member of our little group, Mr. Gammon. He just came back from Europe. Mr. Gammon owns the New York Sun.

(Back in the theater, Jack is giving a speech.)

JACK: So, we’ve come a long way, but we ain’t there yet and maybe it’s only gonna get tougher from now on. But that’s fine, we’ll just get tougher with it. But also, we gotta get smart and start listening to my pal David, who says ‘stop soakin’ the scabs’.

RACETRACK: What are we supposed to do to the bums? Kiss ‘em?

SPOT: Any scab I see I soak ‘em. Period.

DAVID: No, no. That’s what they want us to do. If we get violent, it’s just playing into their hands.

SPOT: Hey, look. They’re gonna be playing with my hands, alright. 'Cuz it ain’t what they say, it’s what we say. And nobody ain’t gonna listen to us unless we make ‘em.

(Newsies in the crowd take different sides and start to argue.)

JACK: You got no brains. Why we starting to fight each other? It’s just what the big shot’s wanna see. That we’re street rats! Street rats with no brain’s. No respect for nothing, including ourselves! So, here’s how it’s gonna be. If we don’t act together, then we’re nothing. If we don’t stick together, then we’re nothing. And if we can’t even trust each other, then we’re nothing.

KID BLINK: Tell ‘em Jack!

JACK: So, what’s it gonna be?

RACETRACK: We’re with you Jack.

JACK: So, what about you, Spot?

SPOT: I say that what you say is what I say.

(The spit-shake. All the newsies cheer. The curtains open and Medda enters. The cheering gets louder.)

MEDDA & NEWSIES: High times, hard times Sometimes the living is sweet And sometimes there’s nothing to eat But I always land on my feet So when there’s dry times I wait for high times and then I put on my best And I stick out my chest And I’m off to the race’s again!

MEDDA: Hello, newsies. What’s new?

(Outside, the Crib and police are gathering. Snyder enters)

MEDDA: So your old lady don’t love you no more So you’re afraid there’s a wolf at your door So you’ve got street rats that scream in your ear

MEDDA & NEWSIES: You win some, you lose some my dear, Oh… High times, hard times Sometimes the living is sweet And sometimes there’s nothing to eat But I always land on my feet So when there’s dry times I wait for high times and then I put on my best And I stick out my chest And I’m off to the races again

MEDDA: I put on my best!

NEWSIES: I put on my best!

MEDDA: And I stick out my chest

NEWSIES: And I sticks out my chest

MEDDA: And I’m off

NEWSIES: And I’m off

MEDDA: And I’m off

NEWSIES: And I’m off

MEDDA: And I’m off

ALL: To the races again!

(The police block off the entrance to the theater. Denton sees Snyder and tries to keep him busy)

DENTON: Excuse me. Aren’t you Warden Snyder? Bryan Denton of the Sun. How do you do, sir?

(David sees Snyder and tells Spot)

DENTON: I heard about your wonderful work with the children and I wondered if I might get an interview with you

(David rushes through the crowd to Jack)

DAVID: Jack! Jack! It’s Snyder!

JACK: What?

DAVID: It’s Snyder. Right there!

(Denton tries to distract Snyder one more time. This time with his camera)

DENTON: Let me get that correct. That’s Snyder, as in snide? Smile sir!

(The flash blinds him for a minute, then he blows his whistle.)

JACK: Medda, thanks. I gotta run.

(Cops come in and the newsies scatter. Jack take’s Sarah’s hand and pulls her through the crowd. Racetrack gets Medda to safety and start to leave)

MEDDA: No! Stay with me!

(A huge man kicks Racetrack in the stomach and punches him out. Medda breaks away from her maid and slaps the man)

MEDDA: No! No! For God’s sake! He’s just a child! Can’t you see that? Racetrack!

(Medda is pulled back and Racetrack is dragged away. Jack and David get Sarah and Les to safety. Then turn back to fight. Everywhere they go, they are surrounded by cops or the crib. By Medda’s swing, they meet up with Snyder. David sits on the swing.)

DAVID: Push me!

(Jack shoves David, who hits Snyder in the face.)

DAVID: Get out of here! Go!

(Jack runs as David and some other newsies hold Snyder off. Jack and Kid Blink run outside and find they are surrounded by cops. One of them grabs for Jack, but Kid Blink shoves him away.)

KID BLINK: Beat it!

(Jack runs back inside. Kid Blink gets hit with a club and is dragged away. Jack starts to run up the stairs, but a man meets him at the top and punches him in the chin. Jack falls back and is caught by cops. THE NEXT DAY- the newsies are in court.)

BAILIFF: All rise. All rise. Court is now in session. Judge E.A. Monahan presiding. MONAHAN: Are any of you boys represented by council? No? Good, that will move things along considerably.

SPOT: Hey, yer honor, I object!

MONAHAN: On what grounds?

SPOT: On the grounds of Brooklyn, yer honor.

(The newsies crack up laughing. Monahan bangs on his desk.)

MONAHAN: I fine each of you five dollars, or two weeks confinement in the House of Refuge.

RACETRACK: Whoa. We ain’t got five bucks. We don’t even got five cents. Hey, yer honor, how ‘bout I roll you for it. Double or nothing?

MONAHAN: Alright. Move along, move along.

(Denton, David and Les enter)

DENTON: Your honor, I’ll pay the fines. All of them.

DAVID: Hey, you fellas alright? Where’s Jack?

DENTON: Look, we’ve got to meet at the restaurant. Everybody. We have to talk.

MONAHAN: Pay the clerk. Move it along.

(Jack is lead in, handcuffed)

JACK: Hey fellas!

RACETRACK: Hey, Cowboy! Nice shiner!

JACK: Hey, Denton. I guess we made all the papes this time. So, how’s my picture look?

DENTON: None of the papers covered the rally. Not even the Sun.

BAILIFF: Case of Jack Kelly. Inciting a riot. Assault. Resisting arrest.

SNYDER: Judge Monahan, I’ll speak for this young man.

JACK: You two know each other. Ain’t that nice.

MONAHAN: Just move it along, Warden Snyder.

SNYDER: This boy’s real name is Francis Sullivan. His mother’s deceased. His father’s a convict in the state penitentiary. He’s an escapee from the House of Refuge where his original sentence for three months was extended to six moths for disruptive behavior.

JACK: Like demanding we eat the food you steal from us.

SNYDER: Followed by an additional six months for attempted escape.

JACK: Attempted? Last time it wasn’t an attempted escape. Remember Snyder? Remember me and Teddy Roosevelt? Remember Roosevelt and the carriage?

SNYDER: Therefore, I ask that he be returned to the House of Refuge.

JACK: What? For my own good, right? Move it along? For my own good and for what he kicks back to you!

SNYDER: I ask that the court order his incarceration until the age of twenty-one, in the hope that we may yet guide him to a useful and productive life.

MONAHAN: So ordered.

LES: No!

(Jack is led away. Snyder follows, then turns and smiles at the judge. LATER- The newsies sit in Tibby’s. Denton enters. They greet him)

DAVID: Why didn’t the Sun print the story?

DENTON: Because it never happened

RACETRACK: What do you mean it never happened? You were there!

KID BLINK: You wrote it!

DENTON: It’s not in the papers, it never happened. The owners decreed it not be in the papers, therefore… I came to tell you fellas good bye.

DAVID: What happened? Did you get fired or something?

DENTON: No, I got reassigned back to my old job as the Sun’s ace war correspondent. They want me to leave right away. The owner thinks I should only cover the really important stories. Wish me luck fellas. At least half of what I wish for you. They don’t always fire. I would be black balled from every paper in the country. I’m a newspaper man. I have to have a paper to write for. This is the story I wrote about the rally. I want you to read it at least. This should cover it

(Denton pays the waiter and leaves. David crumples the story up and throws it on a table)

DAVID: We get Jack out of the Refuge tonight. From now on, we trust no one but the newsies.

(The newsies get up and leave. Les uses Denton’s article to wrap his unfinished hot dog in. THAT NIGHT- David, Les, Mush, Kid Blink, Racetrack and Boots sneak into the Refuge’s gates. Kid Blink had a rope.)

DAVID: That’s the window where we saw Crutchy

(They are about to move when they see Snyder leading Jack into a carriage.)

LES: It’s Jack!

MUSH: Where they takin’ him Dave?

DAVID: Only one way to find out. I’ll meet you guys at the square. Racetrack, watch him.

(David hides in the back of the carriage, which goes to Pulitzer’s house. Seitz is waiting outside for them.)

SEITZ: Get him inside

(Snyder takes Jack’s arm and leads him in. David pulls out the pin that attaches the horses to the carriage. INSIDE- Seitz leaves Jack in Pulitzer’s study. Pulitzer enters.)

PULITZER: Sit. Know what I was doing at your age, boy? I was in a war. The Civil War.

JACK: Yeah, I heard of it. So, didja win?

PULITZER: People think war is about right or wrong and not power.

JACK: Yeah, I heard of that too. I don’t just sell your papes, Joe. Sometime I read ‘em.

PULITZER: Power of the press is the greatest power of them all. I tell this city how to think. I tell this city how to vote. I shape it’s future.

JACK: Yeah? Well, right now I’m only thinking about one future, and that’s mine.

PULITZER: So am I boy. I have the power to see you stay locked in the Refuge

JACK: And I have the power to break out again.

PULITZER: Or, I can see you released tomorrow, free and clear, with more money in your pockets than you can earn in three lifetimes.

JACK: Are you bribin’ me, Joe?

PULITZER: No

JACK: Well, it’s been real nice chattin’ with ya, Joe. But I got to be goin’ now.

PULITZER: You listen to me, boy. You just shut your mouth and listen to me! You shut up and listen to me for once! No game I’m playing. You work for me til the strike’s over, and it will end, boy, make no mistake, with or without you. Then you go where ever you want to buy a ticket for. Away from the Refuge, these foul streets. Free. With money to spend and nobody chasing you.

JACK: We must have you scared pretty bad, old man

PULITZER: I offer you freedom and money just to work for me again. To your friends, I won’t be so kind. Now, you’re partner, what’s his name? David. I understand he has a family. What do you think the Refuge will do to him? And it will be you who put him there. And all the others, after all, you’re their leader. Go back to the Refuge tonight, think about it. Give me your answer in the morning.

(Jack leaves. As he is being taken outside, Snyder lets go of him for one second)

DAVID: Jack! Come on! Come on!

(Jack slides down the railing and jumps over it. He and David take off)

SNYDER: After him!

(The driver whips the horses, who take off without the carriage.)

SEITZ: Don’t worry. He’s got no place to go

(David and Jack run into an alley. Jack slows down)

DAVID: Come on! Keep running!

JACK: You shouldn’t have done this, Dave. They could put you in jail

DAVID: I don’t care

JACK: Come here. What about your family? What happened to them if you go in jail. You don’t know nothing about jail. Now, thanks for what you done, but you get out of here

DAVID: I don’t understand

JACK: I don’t understand either, but just get outta here!

DAVID: No!

JACK: Go!

(David turns slowly and walks away. Jack leans against a wall. Suddenly, he’s leaning against a wall in the Refuge.)

JACK: Santa Fe My old friend I can’t spend my whole life hidin’ You’re the only light that’s guidin’ me today

(Crutchy opens a little slot in the door. He has a potato)

CRUTCHY: Psst! Jack! Look! I snitched it off Snyder’s plate while I was serving him. It’s the biggest one. Oh, Mr. Snyder was eating good tonight. You know the stuff that we don’t ever get? He got potatoes, olives, liver, bacon, sauerkraut. And guess what I done to his sauerkraut, huh?

JACK: So, what’d it get ya?

CRUTCHY: Oh, anudder three months, probably, but you can’t let ‘em get you, right Jack? That’s what you always said...

JACK: We was beat when we was born

(Crutchy frowns and closes the slot)

JACK: Will you keep a candle burnin’ Will you help me find my way? You’re my chance to break free And who knows when my next one will be Santa Fe, Wait for me

(The newsies are picketing outside the World building.)

NEWSIES: Stop the World! No more papes! Stop the World! No more papes! (etc.)

(The police form a barricade. Some of the newsies start to fight amongst themselves.)

DAVID: Race! Help me! I need some help!

RACETRACK: Alright! I ain’t deaf!

SPOT: Hey, hey, hey! Break it up. Hey, Race, come here.

(Weasel leads Jack out. He’s in a new suit)

RACETRACK: What?

SPOT: Just tell me I’m seeing things. Just tell me I’m seeing things.

RACETRACK: No, you ain’t seeing things. That’s Jack. What’s he doing?

SPOT: He’s dressed like a scabber!

MUSH: Jack? Jack, look at me, will ya? Come on, it’s me, Mush. Look at me. What are you doin’, Jack?

KID BLINK: This ain’t happening. This can’t be happening. What are you doin’ Jack? Come on, what are you doin’?

BOOTS: Come on. What is this? Where’d you get them clothes?

WEASEL: Mr. Pulitzer picked them out himself. A special gift to a special new employee.

SPOT: He sold us out!

RACETRACK: I’ll give you a new suit! You bum! I’ll soak ya!

SPOT: Hey, hey, hey! Let me get my hands dirty. Come here you dirty rotten scabber! Traitor!

(Some newsies pull Spot away. David stares at Jack)

WEASEL: Aww. You wanna talk to him? Come on, come on. Sure. Got right ahead.

(David walks up to Jack)

DAVID: So, this is why you didn’t escape last night. You’re a liar! You lied about everything. You lied about your father being out west, ‘cause he’s not out west! You didn’t even tell me your real name!

JACK: So? What you wanna do about it Dave?

DAVID: I don’t understand you.

JACK: Oh, so let me spell it out for ya. You see, I ain’t got nobody tucking me in at night, like you. It’s just me, I gotta look out for myself.

DAVID: You had the newsies..

JACK: Oh, what’d being a newsies ever give me but a dime a day and a few black eyes? You know, I can’t afford to be a kid no more, Dave. For the first time in my life, I got money in my pockets. Real money. Money, you understand? I got more on the way and as soon as I collect, I’m gone, I’m away. Alright?

DAVID: Well, that’s good. That’s good because we don’t need you! We don’t need you! All those words you said, those were mine.

JACK: Yeah, but you never had the guts to put them across yourself, didja?

DAVID: I do now

(Dave starts to go back to the newsies, then turns to look at Jack again.)

JACK: What’sa matta? Got a problem?

(David rushes towards Jack, but Weasel and a few policemen pull him away.)

WEASEL: Maybe you’d like a new suit of your own, huh?

DAVID: Never! Never!

WEASEL: Get outta here! Get outta here!

DAVID: I’m not like you!

(The cops surround Jack so the newsies can’t get him. The newsies watch him go.)

SPOT: Traitor!

KID BLINK: You make me sick!

BOOTS: I trusted you!

RACETRACK: Seize the day, huh Jack?

LES: He’s foolin’ ‘em, so he can spy on ‘em or something. Yeah, yeah, that’s it. He’s foolin’ ‘em!

RACETRACK: Yeah, he’s spying on then, kid.

(Sarah is going through a pile of lace. She finds Les’s old hot dog)

SARAH: Les. What is this?

LES: Savin’ it

(He takes the hot dog and leaves the article in Sarah’s hands. She looks at it.)

SARAH: David. It’s Denton’s article. ‘The Dark Truth; Why Our City Really Fears The Newsies Strike’ by Bryan Denton. ‘Last night I saw naked force exercised against mere boys, the newsies, who were…’

(David climes out the window, slams it, then storms off the fire escape. THAT NIGHT-Weasel leads Jack to his new bedroom, the basement of the World building.)

WEASEL: One trick, Cowboy, and it’s right back to the Refuge. Please.

(He throws a dust covered sheet to Jack.)

WEASEL: Ah. You gonna be requiring anything this evening? Huh? No? Aww..tick tick. Well then, I ought to be saying good night. Remember, on trick and I go straight to Mr. Pulitzer.

(He exits, leaving Jack alone. MORNING- Jack goes to collect his papers. Oscar and Morris come up behind him.)

WEASEL: Sleep well Cowboy?

OSCAR: Come with us Cowboy. We’re gonna go fix you’re pal, Davey. Fix him so he can’t walk.

MORRIS: Shut up

(Jack starts to go after them.)

WEASEL: Ah! Lift one finger and it’s right back to the Refuge. Next!

(Jack picks up his papers and leaves. LATER THAT MORNING- Sarah is walking to work with Les. She has a basket full of lace.)

SARAH: Morning LADY: Good mornin’, dear.

(Oscar ‘bumps’ into her)

OSCAR: ’Cuse me, Sweetface.

(She continues to walk with Oscar behind her. Morris steps out in front of her.)

MORRIS: Where’s your little brother, Tootsie? Where’s little Davey?

(Sarah tries to get by, but the brothers push her around.)

LES: Leave my sister alone!

(He shoves Oscar. Morris holds onto Sarah while Oscar pushed Les into a puddle.)

SARAH: Stop it! Leave him alone!

(Oscar shoves Les into a pile of baskets. Sarah shoves Morris away.)

SARAH: You stupid ape.

(She punches him, but it doesn’t hurt him. She runs into the alley. The brothers catch her. David sees Les and helps him up.)

DAVID: What’s the matter? Are you alright?

LES: I’m alright, I’m alright. Help Sarah!

SARAH: Run Davey!

OSCAR: Yeah, run Davey. We got the best part of your family right here.

(David tackles Oscar.)

SARAH: Let go of me!

(Morris throws her to the ground. Oscar punches David)

SARAH: Stop it! Les! Stop, you’re hurting him! No!

(Morris pulls out a pair of brass knuckles and puts them on.)

SARAH: Leave him alone!

(Oscar continues to punch David. Les runs to Sarah. Jack is walking down the street near the alley.)

SARAH: Stop it! Leave him alone!

(Jack hears her cries and runs, dropping his papers as he goes. Oscar holds David as Morris gets ready to hit him with the knuckles. Jack comes up behind Morris and punches him. David gives Oscar an elbow in the stomach. Jack throws Morris into a box)

JACK: Get over here.

(Jack grabs Oscar)

JACK: Remember Crutchy?

(Jack head-butts him and he falls near Morris. Jack goes to help Sarah up)

JACK: You alright?

SARAH: Yeah.

(The hug briefly)

SARAH: David!

(Jack goes to David and checks him out before helping him up. Oscar and Morris finally get up.)

MORRIS: You’d better run, Cowboy. We’re gonna tell uncle Weas. You’ll be back in the Refuge before suppertime!

OSCAR: Run, you lousy coward, run!

(Jack starts to go after them, but Sarah stops him. Les runs to the end of the alley.)

LES: Go one! Get outta here! Don’t come back! You hear me?

DAVID: What? You couldn’t stay away?

JACK: Well, I guess I can’t be something I ain’t.

DAVID: A scab?

JACK: No, smart.

(The four of them go to Denton’s apartment. Jack knocks on the door. Denton opens it.)

JACK: Did you mean what you wrote here? ‘Bout all these sweat shop kids listening to me?

DENTON: I don’t write anything I don’t mean. Come on in. I’m just packing a few things.

(They enter. David closes the door.)

DENTON: So, yes, I mean it. The city thrives on child labour. A lot of people make money that way. They’re terrified that the newsies strike will spread.

JACK: Well, there’ really not much chance of that as long as they got the power

DENTON: Sometimes, all it takes is a voice, one voice. Then a thousand. Unless it’s silenced.

JACK: Why can’t we spread the strike? Have another big rally and get the word out to all the sweat shop kids? Why not?

DAVID: What are we going to do? Print an ad in the newspaper?

JACK: No! We’ll do better than that. We’ll make our own paper. We tell ‘em they gotta join us. Isn’t that a good idea?

DAVID: Yeah, it is. But what do we know about printing a newspaper?

JACK: Nothing, but our man Denton…

DAVID: Yeah, but our man Denton has something more important to do. He’s going to be an ace war correspondent, right Denton?

DENTON: Alright. Where do we start?

(They sit at a table)

JACK: Alright, we gotta move fast. Now, we’ll need the newsies to circulate.

DENTON: There’s something else that we need. We need a printing press.

JACK: Just so happens I know a guy with a printing press.

(Jack, Sarah, David and Denton enter the basement of the World building.)

SARAH: You’ve been living here?

JACK: Shh. They’re right above us. Weasel catches us here, we’re all in the slammer.

(Jack uncovers a press)

DENTON: Alright! A Platen press. Looks like old man Pulitzer never threw anything away.

DAVID: Is it going to work?

DENTON: It better. We have a deadline.

(They start printing their papers.)

DENTON: This is the story you wanted to write, well tonight is the night that you can

JACK: Just get this done and by dawn’t early light you can finish the fight you began

DAVID: This time we’re in it to stay

SARAH: Think about seizing the day

JACK: Think of that train as she rolls into old Santa Fe Tell her I’m on my way

NEWSIES: See old man Pulitzer snug in his bed He don’t care if we’re dead or alive Three satin pillows are under his head While we’re begging for bread to survive Joe, if you’re still counting sheep Wake up and read ‘em and weep You’ve got your thugs With their sticks and their slugs Yeah, but we got a promise to keep Once and for all Something tells me the tide will be turning Once and for all There’s a fire inside me that wont stop burning Now that the choices are clear Now that tomorrow is here Watch how the mighty will fall For once and for all!

(Jack hands bundles of papers to the newsies. Denton and Jack crawl out the window.)

DENTON: It’s awfully nice of Mr. Pulitzer to let us use his press

JACK: Yeah, I just hope I get to thank him for it someday.

(The newsies spread out and hand the papers to various work kids.)

NEWSIES: This is for kids shining shoes on the streets With no shoes on their feet everyday This is for guys sweating blood in the shops While their bosses and cops look away This is to even the score We ain’t just newsies no more This ain’t just kids with some pie in the sky This is do it or die This is war! Once and for all We’ll be there to defend one another Once and for all Every kid is a friend Every friend a brother Five thousand fists in the sky Five thousand reasons to try We’re going over the wall Better to die than to crawl Either we stand or we fall For once Once and for all!

(Denton is with Teddy Roosevelt, who has just read the Newsies Banner)

ROOSEVELT: Disgraceful, Denty. Those poor boys.

DENTON: I thought you’d feel this way, Governor.

ROOSEVELT: And I did nothing, until now

DENTON: Good.

(They shake hands and Roosevelt is handed his hat and walking stick. LATER THAT DAY- The newsies have gathered around the Horace Greeley statue None of the work kids have showed up.)

MUSH: So, when's the others coming, kid?

JACK: They ain’t coming. Ain’t gonna be nobody but us.

SNITCH: Come on, Jack.

SPECS: Have hope, Jack.

(Les walks away from the group.)

LES: When the circulation bell starts ringing, will we hear it?

RACETRACK: Nah. What if the Delancey’s come out swinging, will we hear it?

LES: No!

RACETRACK: That a boy!

WORK KIDS: When you’ve got a million voices singing Who can hear a lousy whistle blow? And the World will know!

(Work kids come in from all directions. The newsies cheer. Spot enters, leading in all of the Brooklyn kids.)

SPOT: Brooklyn!

NEWSIES & WORK KIDS: The World will feel the fire and finally know!

(Everyone cheers. The newsies and Sarah make their way threw the crowd.)

WORK KIDS: Strike! Strike! Strike! (etc.)

(The newsies make their way to the front of the World Building.)

RACETRACK: Dear me. What have we here?

(Seitz and a group of policemen are by the entrance, looking out into the crowd. INSIDE- Pulitzer is at his desk. Seitz brings in Jack and David. Jonathan grabs his arm and whispers.)

JONATHAN: It’s awful. Everyone’s calling. Mr. Hearst, and Mr. Bennett, and the mayor in such awful language. The city’s at a stand still and they all blame the chief. It’s like the end of the World, only I didn’t say that.

(Jack and David go to Pulitzer’s desk, where Jack pulls out a copy of the newspaper.)

JACK: Extry, extry, Joe. Read all about it.

PULITZER: I promised that if you defied me, I’d break you. I’ll keep that promise, boy. Now, I gave you a chance to be free. I don’t understand. Anyone who doesn’t act in their own self interest is a fool.

DAVID: Then what does that make you?

PULITZER: What?

JACK: Oh, this is my pal, Davey. The Walkin’ mouth

DAVID: You talk about self interest, but since the strike, your circulation’s been down 70%. Everyday you’re losing thousands of dollars just to beat us out of one lousy tenth of a cent. Why?

JACK: You see, it ain’t about the money, Dave. It Joe gives in to nobodies like us, it means we got the power. And he can’t do that, no matter what it costs. Am I right, Joe?

PULITZER: I sent for the police. They must be here by now. Send them in, Seitz

JACK: I’m not going back to jail, Joe. Look out here. Right out here is where the power is.

(Jack opens the window. All the kids are still yelling Pulitzer covers his ears)

PULITZER: Close the window! Close the window! Go home! Go home! Go home!

JACK: I can’t hear you , Joe!

PULITZER: Go home! Go home to your mothers and fathers! Go home!

JACK: I don’t hear ya!

PULITZER: Now you listen to me!

JACK: Maybe you should listen!

PULITZER: No, no! You listen to me!

JACK: No! You listen!

PULITZER: Close the window and shut up!

JACK: There’s a lot of people out there and they ain’t just gonna go away. They got voices now and they’re goin’ be listen to. Putting them in jail is not going to stop them! That’s the power of the press, Joe.

(He closes the window. Pulitzer takes his hands away from his ears)

JACK: So thanks for teaching me about it.

SEITZ: Those kids put out a pretty good paper there Chief.

(Pulitzer picks up the paper and reads it.)

PULITZER: I ordered a printing ban on all strike matters. Now, who defied me? Who’s press did you use to print this on? Who’s?

JACK: Well, we only use the best, Joe. So, I just want to say, thanks again.

(Outside, Seitz’s opens the gates. David starts to come out, Jack is behind him.)

SPOT: Hey, fellas, they’re over here!

(The newsies gather around and start asking questions. Jack bends over and whispers in Les’s ear.)

JACK: The strike’s over. We beat ‘em.

(Jack lifts Les onto his shoulders and look out towards all the children.)

JACK: We beat ‘em!

(The crowd cheers. All the newsies hug and pat each other on the back Weasel, Oscar and Morris put on their hats and leave. A paddy wagon pulls up. Snyder is sitting in the front seat with two cops.)

LES: Jack! Jack, it’s the bulls. It’s the bulls. Let me down!

SWIFTY: Down Jack. Get down!

KID BLINK: Hide Jack

DENTON: Jack, it’s over. No, no. You don’t have to run. Not anymore. Not from the likes of him. Come on, Come on.

(A cop opens the paddy wagon and the kids from the Refuge come out. The last one is Crutchy. A cop leads Snyder into the paddy wagon. Crutchy taps him on the back.)

CRUTCHY: Ah, remember what I told ya, Mr. Snyder. The first thing ya do in jail, make friends with the rats. Share what you got in common.

(Snyder climes in. A police officer is about to close the door.)

CRUTCHY: Officer, may I please?

POLICE OFFICER: Sure kid.

(Crutchy hands his crutch to a kid. He slams the door and locks it. He gets his crutch back and goes over to Jack and the others.)

JACK: Heya Crutchy.

DENTON: You won’t be seeing much of him anymore. Say goodbye Warden.

NEWSIES: Goodbye Warden!

(The paddy wagon pulls away)

CRUTCHY: Oh, Jack, you ought tah seen it! He comes stormin’ into the Refuge waving his walking stick like a sword and he’s leading in this army of lawyers and cops.

JACK: Who comes stormin’ in?

CRUTCHY: You know, your friend. Him! Teddy Roosevelt

(the newsies are amazed)

DENTON: The Governor’s very grateful that you brought this problem to his attention. I said you might need a lift somewhere. He’d be happy to oblige. Anywhere you want. And this time, you ride inside.

JACK: So, can he drop me at the train-yards?

DENTON: Yeah, if that’s what you want.

(They make their way to Roosevelt’s carriage. Jack shakes his hand and climes in. Boots throws Jack a bag. David, Les and Sarah watch sadly. The work kids follow the carriage as it leaves, leaving the newsies alone. The circulation bell begins to ring.)

MUSH: Try Bottle Alley or the harbor

RACETRACK: Try Central Park, it’s guaranteed

CRUTCHY: Try any banker, bum or barber

KID BLINK: They almost all knows how tah read

BOOTS: Summer stinks

SKITTERY: And winter’s waiting

SPECS, BUMLETS & SNIPESHOOTER: Welcome to New York

SNODDY, PIE EATER, SWIFTY, ITEY & JAKE: Boy ain’t nature fascinating

NEWSIES: When youse gotta walk

(The newsies line up for their papers. David is first in line. He slaps down a coin.)

DAVID: Hundred papes.

MUSH: Alright Davey.

(The newsies hear cheers and turn to see the carriage returning. All the work kids are following.)

MUSH: Dave, he’s back!

JACK: Thanks for the advice, Governor. Like you said, I still got things to do. Besides, I got family here.

(He gets out of the carriage and gives Les his cowboy hat. All the newsies yell and talk at the same time.)

JACK: So, how’s the headline today?

DAVID: Headlines don’t sell papes, newsies sell papes.

JACK: Come here, Davey.

(Jack holds out his hand. David spits in his and shakes it. Sarah makes her way through the crowd. Her and Jack kiss. All the newsies cheer and yell. The carriage pulls away, with Roosevelt and Spot in it. Spot tips his hat and waves as he leaves.)

SARAH: Bye Spot!

JACK: Go back to Brooklyn ya hear!

(David, Jack, Sarah, Les and Crutchy follow the carriage. Denton shakes David’s hand, then goes to the side and starts writing. The newsies, with their papers, dance as they leave.)

GROUP 1: It’s a fine life Carryin’ the banner It’s a fine life Carryin’ the banner It’s a fine life Carryin’ the banner It’s a fine life Carryin’the banner

GROUP 2: You got ‘em, Cowboy You showed ‘em how boy! You got ‘em Cowboy You showed ‘em how boy!

#Long post

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