#please just give me one chance i can hit the santa fe note

[montygatorguy]

if we can have lesbian heathers with a fem jd then we can have lesbian newsies with a fem jack who’s with me

[i-write-newsies]

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

[racebox-of-higgars]

Forcing The Last Page

The third work in the current series I’m working on - The Unkindest Cut Of All. Please read the other parts first, otherwise this won’t make much sense.  

MAJOR SUICIDE TW - please stay safe and do not read if this could potentially be triggering for you. 

Summary: "Race closed the door behind him with a gentle click, leaning his back against it. His hands trembled and his breaths came in short, ragged bursts. His whole body shook violently as the tears he had spent so long holding back finally burst free, cascading down his face and carving paths into his skin. His nails pressed into his palms, forming small red dents in the pale skin. His fingers twisted in his hair and he pressed his face into his knees and completely fell apart."

The aftermath of Jack and Race's argument.Title from Turtles All The Way Down by Sammy Copley - loosely based on the same song. 

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31436591 

@angelslibrary 

Race closed the door behind him with a gentle click, leaning his back against it. His hands trembled and his breaths came in short, ragged bursts. His whole body shook violently as the tears he had spent so long holding back finally burst free, cascading down his face and carving paths into his skin. His nails pressed into his palms, forming small red dents in the pale skin. His fingers twisted in his hair and he pressed his face into his knees and completely fell apart.

Jack didn’t want him. Jack hated him.

He had looked up to Jack almost his entire life, and Jack hated him.

Down the hall, a door slammed.

Jack had known, of course he had. Jack knew everything about him, and saw in the way he had ducked his eyes, made himself as small as possible in every moment he could so he could slip by as inconspicuous as possible that he wasn’t well. It wasn’t like Race had a choice though. It was either hide it with bittersweet lies or tell the truth and let all of his burdens weigh down on Jack, and that he just couldn’t do.

He wiped his eyes with shaking hands, taking a deep breath as he slowly pulled out a notepad - the one Jack hand bought him with the tiny dinosaurs in the margin -  and a pen. If he was going to do this, he would do it properly. He would say his goodbyes.

He had no idea where to start.

There were a million things he wanted to say, but no right words to say them. There were thousands upon thousands of unsaid words that would stay unsaid forever now, because Race just didn’t know how to put them onto paper.

I hate you.

You’re my best friend.

You bring out the worst in me.

You are the best in me.

I need help.

I love you.

All things that would never be said.

Jack. I know that you’re angry with me at the moment, and probably will be forever, but I still had to say goodbye.

He finally put pen to paper, his writing almost trembling, hesitant as it appeared on the page. He couldn’t think of a single thing he wanted to say. The walls were closing in on him and everything was too hot, too much, and it was all too overwhelming and he couldn’t breathe.

Someone help me, I can’t breathe!

There are a million things I want to tell you, I should tell you, but there are no words to say them, so I’ll leave them unsaid and hope you know them anyway. I know that isn’t possible, but here we are. There is no right way to say goodbye.  

You have questions, so many questions and none of them have sensible answers, none of them have answers that I can rationalise, but I’ll try to answer them as best I can.

Race put the pen down, gasping for air as he clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his violent, unforgiving sobs that took everything from him and more. He could do this. How hard was saying goodbye, really?

He forced himself to put pen to paper.

The first question - why? The simplest answer is “I don’t know.” The long winded answer is difficult to explain but I’ll do my best.

It’s like I’m drowning. It sounds cliche, right? But things started going downhill just as college started, but you knew that. It was all too much at once and I didn’t know how to handle it. Suddenly I wasn’t the genius everyone expected me to be. My grades were dropping and for some reason I didn’t care. Everyone had expected so much of me, and I think I crumbled under the pressure. There’s a triumph in crashing down when you’re supposed to be soaring.

Race’s hand flew across the paper now, the words appearing in his mind and on the page almost simultaneously. There was so much in him that he needed out, and this was how he was going to do it. Jack deserved to know. He couldn’t leave without giving him that.

The second - why wasn’t I enough? Again, there is no simple answer. I don’t think anyone was enough. You were right when you said I didn’t want to be helped. By being helped, it meant I had to open up and tell you everything and submit to the mortifying idea of being known, of being seen for everything that I am, flaws and all, and just hope that you wouldn’t leave. I was too afraid to tell you everything, so I told you nothing.

Race regretted not talking to Jack. Well, not really. He regretted what that had led to. The endless fights, the screaming, the hurled insults, the rift between them that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t close. There was nothing he could do now to fix the damage that he had done.

All I really have to say is I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for the way things ended, I’m sorry for tearing us apart, I’m sorry for ruining our family. But most of all, I’m sorry I was never a better brother to you. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were a bad brother to me - you weren’t. I couldn’t have asked for someone better. Please, don’t feel like this is your fault, it’s not. This is just my time to go. There’s nothing you or anyone can do to change that. You can't try to change that. I'm sorry for that.

Race’s tears flowed freely now, he stopped trying to stifle them. uncontrollable, wrenching sobs wracked his body, each one forcing him to gasp for air, but he didn't stop now. An overwhelming sense of desperation crashed over him in waves as he finally put all of his thoughts onto paper. Everything he had been holding in for months now was forcing its way out of him, as if it knew that this was its last chance to.

I know it sounds hard, but I want you to be happy. You have a good life ahead of you, Jack, don't waste it on me. If you don't go to that art school in Santa Fe I will haunt your ass. I don't want you to throw everything away because of me. You're worth more than that.

Race had to force that page. He knew it was all bullshit, a meagre attempt to try to lessen the blow, all of it some mandatory ritual that held no meaning, no purpose. None of it made sense. He tried to inject some humour into it to try to take away from the crushing reality of what was about to happen, but he knew it wouldn't work.

So, I suppose I should end this with a goodbye. An apology and a goodbye.

So I’m sorry for everything, both what we've been through and what you will go through. I love you, no matter how upset I may have been at times. I’ll never stop loving you.

I want you to have Jackie. He comforted me in the worst times, maybe he’ll help you too.

Your friend. No.

Your best friend. No.

Your brother.

Racetrack.

He hastily tore the page from his notebook and set it on the desk. Beside it, he set the worn, ragged stuffed dinosaur, with the word Jackie scrawled under the left foot in smudged blank ink. He pulled out his favourite jacket, an old blue denim one covered in pride pins, so it was more metal than fabric. He started to pull it on, but then he stopped, glancing briefly at his phone as it lit up with a notification.

Spot: Are you able to call tonight? I wanna tell you something.

Behind the message was a photo of him and Spot, with Spot pressing a kiss to his cheek as he laughed, eyes crinkling with his smile. Race couldn't remember being that person, but he couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

You: Sorry, I can't tonight. Had a lot on my plate with studying, and don't feel great so I’m gonna get some sleep. Tell me tomorrow?

Spot: Of course. Goodnight, Racer

You: Goodnight Spot, you can sleep now

“You can sleep now.” That was tradition between them now.  It had started when they had first hit together a year ago. Instead of “I love you,” before falling asleep, Race would say, “you can sleep now.” Spot hadn't been ready to take that step yet, so Race worked around it, and it had stuck.

Race couldn't go without saying goodbye to Spot. He pulled his notebook open again and scribbled another note, more calmly this time, less frantic. He folded the jacket and set it beside Jackie, then set the note on top.

He glanced around the room, going over the million memories he had here. Most of them were good, but more recently they had been tinted black and red and he couldn't break through that to see the good ones on the other side. It just got darker and darker and darker with no sign of light. He walked alone in that darkness, he was the only one who seemed to be able to navigate it. In his darkness, only the blind could see, and he was blind - blind to everything around him trying to help, blind to the hands reaching for him to pull him back to the light. He couldn’t see them.

He pushed the window open, relishing the way the wind whipped his hair. Slowly, he climbed out, and took off into the darkness of night, shrouded by the cover of woodland.

Finally, Jack was able to calm himself down. He thought over their argument, and felt sick as he thought about all the things he had said to Race. Race didn't deserve any of that, and none of it was true. He had said cruel things in the heat of the argument, and he wanted nothing more than to take them all back. He had to make everything right.

He gently knocked on Race’s door, frowning when he didn't receive an answer. He supposed it was to be expected, but it didn't mean he had to like it. He knocked again, louder, but he still got no answer. Then the worry started to settle in, just the feeling of something being slightly wrong . It made Jack feel sick.

“Racer, I’m coming in, okay?” Again, silence on the other side. Slowly, Jack pushed the door open.

A cold breeze blew in through the open window. Why did Race have his window open in November? Then he realised that Race wasn’t there . He glanced around, his eyes falling upon the stuffed dinosaur on the small desk tucked into the corner, and his heart sank.

He picked up the note with trembling hands.

He read the first few lines, before it slipped from his shaking fingers to the floor.

His knees buckled, and he felt himself tear in two, but he wasn't truly there.

Everything came crashing down around him and the world was spinning all too fast, too much at once and nothing stopped and nothing let up and everything was so, so wrong and nothing could fix it.

Race was gone, and he couldn’t fix it.

[smoothshift]

Time to haul some family -- 3 Row SUVs review. via /r/cars

Time to haul some family -- 3 Row SUVs review.

Hi Cars,

Wanted a bigger car for my growing family and learned a lot on the way. This is a super competitive segment because every make is wanting to play. Hopefully my experience can help some others out because there really isn't a clear winner here. Even though I'm going to be critical, you really can't go wrong with any new 3 row SUV. Really just about which flavor you want.

Must have:

3Row/Spacious

AWD

Leather

Rear Cam

No maintenance / Reliable / Safe

Reasoning:

Need space for 2 rear facing car seats in the back(with ability for me 6' to sit comfortably upfront) the double stroller(thing just eats space) in the trunk. Road trips, luggage, gear, maybe more people as well, space is good.

AWD - better in weather, resale, camping? etc

Leather would be easier for cleaning up any random spills or boogers or puke or mud or ..kids are messy :)

Rear cam - besides the obvious reasons, I live in a younger community with tons of kids near by so I always want to know who/what is behind me.

With little kids, I definitely never want to be stranded. I don't really want to spend time taking my car to the shop. This would make me lean toward new. And most SUVs are safe just based on their size alone.

Wanted:

Power/Speed

Off road prowess

Tech/features

Panoramic sun roof

Comfort

LED accent lights (I don't think it looks like a NEW car without it)

Cool factor

To get everything I MUST HAVE new, MSRP would be close to 40k for a lot of the big players. So I kinda set that as my price tag. However, one of the main points I wanted to talk about in this post was that MSRP isn't too relevant in this segment. As far as MSRP are concerned, brand new, the Pilot and the Highlander should be your only choices, maybe the Santa fe.

Pilot

pros: This thing is a beast. It's the fastest one out there, 0-60 in 6ish seconds in an family hauler, hell ya now we're talking. It FEELS more spacious than all of the others. I sat comfortably in the 3rd row. They have a little area you can pull up behind the 3rd row to make it deeper and give you even more space back there. EX-L will get you leather and an 8 inch screen. You can save 1k off of getting Nav because it has android/apple. So you can decide for another 1k for their collision system or 1500 for entertainment set up...or you can just give your kid a tablet and call it a day. LED accent lights on all trims. Elite trim has some cool stuff but eh not much difference between the 9 speed and 6 speed MPG wise. One of the better AWD systems from some reviews I've seen. Seemed to out preform the highlander on a tame off road course.

cons: Looks like a mini van. Like seriously, I hate how it looks. This is what initially threw me off. NOW, after looking at how boring most of these SUVs are... If I got a black pilot with roof rails and running boards ...maybe blacked out the grill, blacked out the rims, blacked out my eyes so I didn't have to look at it.. It would be acceptable. They weren't giving me as much for my trade and these fly off the lot, especially the black ones. So they weren't going to give me much off MSRP either, maybe 3k if I ping pong between dealers. Bland interior, but functional at least.

Highlander

pros: All trims come with their collision system. Looks pretty nice actually, but it looked pretty good before their minor refresh too. New more powerful engine for 2017. Good amount of space. Toyota so you know its going to be reliable and it will hold its value better than any other SUV. Stepping up to the SE trim will get you some cooler looking ones and a sportier suspension, however I didn't really notice much. Pretty standard, safe choice overall. 2nd row Captain seats or Bench option is no extra cost.

cons: Won't get much off MSRP 2-3k again / Won't give much for my trade. They know they have high resale value so they get to be a bit stingy. SE trim and up have the accent LEDs but XLE would cover my Must Haves. Not fast, but not slow for the segment. No Android / apple. Even though new engine, performance was better on previous one.

4Runner

Still running a 5 speed? This thing is dated in many ways and doesn't give much except for basic features. You do get a big reliable vehicle with awesome off road ability. I love how they look but interior a lot smaller than the Highlander. Couldn't justify putting this in the running...4running.

Santa Fe

Seemed like a great value for what it was. Looks decent too. Interior seemed okay, I just didn't like the design personally. Overall, just wasn't feeling it. Didn't drive one. I think the other two edged it out, however I'm betting I could have gotten a better deal on this. And they have the better standard warranty than the others.

Arcadia

Redesigned for 2017 - v6 camaro engine in a caddy. This thing breaks the GMC formula a bit. There are deals to be had on this. I could get my must haves and more for maybe 34-35k(Because they had big discounts 9k+ off MSRP). On paper seemed decently quick, but didn't actually test drive. So that's where it would come back into the picture vs the pilot/highlander, since you would get a lot for less money. I really like how it looks too, but in the end I decided I'm don't want to be a guinea pig for basically a brand new SUV right now. But I wouldn't knock anyone who gets one. Seems like a great SUV.

Atlas

I actually know some early adapters for the Atlas and have seen it. It looks great in person, interior is nice and crisp, drives well. Didn't want to wait though and again a new vehicle so they may need to work out some kinks.

CX-9

4banger in a 3row SUV? Stop it. Mazda, Subaru, Ford, Volvo pls. You can't tell me you can load up your SUV, which is like their main purpose, and then preform adequately at highway speeds. Maybe you can and I'm just used to some power, but nope not for me. I really wanted to give the CX-9 a chance anyways since it got such a glorious review from car and driver and sits at their #1. But it really is a dumb car. I love mazda, I like what they do. Sure it has a nice interior and all that, and it drives like a smaller SUV and has a sporty feel to it...uhh nope. It drives like a smaller SUV because it is one. The thing has 71 sqft cargo volume. You can't win the sporty drive in 3rowSUVs when you're really smaller than a ford EDGE but you crammed a 3rd row back there. They may as well throw the Nissan rogue in the picture, I think it actually comes with a 3rd row option and has about the same cargo volume, but you can get it for way cheaper. As a side note, Nissan killed it with the Rogue! I'm a sucker for their star wars edition too. Anyways, I think the Mazda looks the awesome interior and exterior, but if you're missing 12ish sq feet, it's like cheating to be in the segment.

Explorer

Almost almost pulled the trigger. But the Explorer's bones are OLD. Due for a full redesign in a few years. They gave it a brand new look in 2016 but its still heavy and feels cramped inside but drives big. It's still based on the Taurus / Flex I think. The 4banger and even the 6 banger? Hard pass, they are damn slow cause the thing is so heavy. Now the sport...365hp, now we're talking. Now I got about 8k+ off MSRP and they were doing me good on my trade too. So that made it closer to the Pilot/Highlander price range. Sync 3 is great too, it has android/apple integrated. But, even with 365hp, its only barely faster than the Pilot. Still...faster is faster. Well, what really made me step back is for NEARLY the same price, I could just get a F150 with the new version of the engine. It has tons of interior room and great off road and can tow 10k+. POWER: 375 hp @ 5000 rpm TORQUE: 470 lb-ft @ 3500 rpm 10 speed auto 0-60 in 5.7sec SHHWAANGGG! Yes please! Just couldn't convince the wife to make this our family hauler haha.

MDX

Okay you're going to hate me if you're still with me here. I went USED with a 2014 MDX with advance package. So it literally has every feature known to man. Drives great, fast, sporty, looks sexy af. Got it in silver. I got it at bout 8k less than a new Pilot which basically has the same engine. Literally love this car, it has everything I want, the space and a ton more features than any of the new cars except the andriod/apple. I know a must have was reliability and no maintenance for me, however I'm lucky enough to live a few houses down from a honda tech. He's awesome and has a lift . So when I factor my unique situation I decided to roll the dice with used. As far as Acura goes, I'll take their reliability and cheap repair costs.

So Used is a different ball game. Looking for a 2014 specifically was tough because that's right when they did their redesign BUT it's also right at the mark that people turn in leases. And from what I've seen, people don't really give a crap about their lease. They do the bare minimum, treat em rough, and then turn in their keys in 3 years. So there were a lot of poorly loved MDXs for sale. The trick here was to drive a new one, then drive some used ones that fit your budget and keep an eye on their carfax. In my area, it seems like they were trying to sell a bunch that they probably got from auction, originally leased in NY/NJ. Crappy roads, crappy traffic, salted roads...Yeah definitely avoided those and didn't even bother looking at them.

So eventually one came up that hit all my checkboxes. My goal was to come out a little better than KBB dealer suggestion. But then feel like I got a "deal" with little extras that wasn't factored into the price. So the one I got had roof rails($400-500 + installation), all weather floor mats($100-200), and brand new tires. Local owner, and they definitely took care of it. Seems like they just traded it in for something nicer. Honestly, if this is actually as good of condition as I believe it to be, I feel I got a steal over all. I think MDXs are great, and the only reason their used value drops as much as it does is because so many people have them. So thanks to supply and demand, I can get away with a premium SUV for a great price.

All of these SUVs aren't the tough rugged ones from the past, but they will get you to the beach comfortably. Decent family SUVs, you really can't go wrong. If I had a larger budget, the current Tahoe's are pretty bad ass, also they're redesigning the Sequoia and the Expedition 2018, they both seem pretty ridiculous as well. Just more $.$ than I got and my MDX does get over 30mpg on the highway...so there's that too.

Thanks for sticking with me. Hope this helps someone, even though I know this is generally a younger crowd.