#they’re so davey and katherine

[cowboy-caboodles]

platonic davey/katherine featuring newsbians!! i can’t sleep and i have so much due tomorrow so ofc i’m staying up drawing instead of going to bed </3 😀

[abovethefoldd]

jeremy, kara, and ben at newsies curtain call. that’s it that’s the post.

[munsons-mutiny]

Let’s talk about the Watch What Happens (reprise) and why Only Davey could’ve sang it.

Like at this point they’re pushing the Katherine and Jack agenda, why shouldn’t she be his inspiration to keep going in this moment???

And the answer is cause she can’t grasp the situation fully!!!

Let me make it very clear that this is Not Katherine slander. I love her. I think this scene highlights the differences in their struggles and upbringing in a really brilliant way.

When she sees Jack wants to quit in this scene she’s so harsh with him. Doesn’t try to empathize with his situation at all, wants him to just buck up and keep going! Because for her, in her situation, with her upbringing, that’s the only way to get anywhere! She wants to be a reporter? Well she can’t listen when she’s told no. She has to push ahead no matter what. She can’t show fear and she can’t show weakness cause she’ll be called a girl like it’s a bad thing and have it used against her. But she doesn’t see her privilege in this! That in coming from a rich powerful family her physical safety can not be put in jeopardy! Her worst case scenario is moving back home and having to deal with her family’s idea of what it means to be a women in this time period. And don’t get me wrong that’s horrible, it would be a terrible and unfair outcome.

But it doesn’t threaten her physical safety!! (Not to say this is true for all women in her position but the show paints a picture that her dad does genuinely love her in his extremely misguided way and we never see him threaten her physical well being or even to stop bank rolling her). She can’t understand that sometimes you need to let a fight pass you by to survive. She doesn’t understand what it really means for Crutchie to be in the Refuge until later. So she pushes hard and it would’ve just ended in a fight where her and Jack miss each other’s points entirely.

But Davey gets it. Maybe not to the extent Jack does, but Jack said it himself Davey’s dads physical safety being jeopardized at work has threatened his whole family’s housing and food security. Something that could’ve been prevented with a union. He knows that this isn’t safe, he fully grasps the danger they’re in, to an extent that Katherine can’t because she’s never threatened by it. Not really. For her and her rich friends she involves this could just be a pet project (she would never view it that way of course) but if this all goes pear shaped all she has to live with is the guilt not the consequences. Her life continues with maybe some delays depending how long her blacklisting lasts.

But for Davey this could be the choice that means they can’t afford food or can’t pay rent. This could be the choice that means Les can’t go to school and his dad doesn’t have a safe place to recover. He gets it, he matches Jack’s fear, but he can’t backdown when they’re making real changes that Jack is having a hard time seeing in the wake of losing Crutchie to an institution that is a large source of his trauma. He needed empathy and hope not an ass kicking and Davey delivered.

Without him that scene would’ve ended with Jack running away a lot sooner and a lot more permanently. Rant over. Hopefully this is semi-well articulated it’s late and I couldn’t sleep til I got this out.

[walkman-cat]

detective noir jack!!…finally!

so, remember when i said I’d design jack after i finished Katherine’s costumes? ahahaha well. Here he is :]

as per usual, notes and references under the cut:

The two left “outfits” are Jack’s Art Clothes (read: legal work clothes :]). They’re constantly covered in paint because Jack cleans/dries his brushes on his clothes.

The shirt he’s wearing on the far left is a “casual” shirt (denoted as casual because of the unstarched collar). He keeps s couple spare pencils/paintbrushes and a small sketchbook in the pocket.

He also gets an artists smock <3 because I love them <3. So many paint tubes in the Big Pockets ;]

Newsboy/flat caps were still widespread and popular in the period, especially among working men.

His trousers are a better fit than Davey’s (waay less wide at the ankles), but he only has one pair (hence the paint stains on the rightmost design). He probably acquired them second-hand.

His shoes are oxfords <3 they were gaining popularity in the period and since neither of his “jobs” are really blue-collar i figured he would have oxfords instead of work boots.

The rightmost design is what I have deigned his “Homme Fatale Getup”. It’s what davey usually sees him in (at the speakeasy and around town) and also what he wears to the speakeasy. (Thank you pidge for suggesting the fitted waistcoat :]).

His shirts are colourpicked from his uksies shirt

The Homme Fatale Shirt is one with a detachable collar, these were starting to become less popular by the late 20s—in favour of shirts with attached collars— but Jack probably wouldn’t want to spend his money on the newest fashionable shirts when he has one in perfectly good condition already (besides, it means he can mix and match collars)

The collar he has on in the design is a winged tip collar, though jack’s use of it here is informal (I took it straight from one of the references because it was So Jack). The necktie is probably so garish and ugly (Race hates it. Jack thinks its the greatest thing to exist).

he probably would also have a suit jacket but i tried to give him one for half an hour and it gave me psychic damage (these designs are for fun why suffer amirite)

Long cigarette holder :]

^ preliminary sketches :]

[baura-bear]

Trying to sleep but all I can think about is cowboy au Katherine

Not sure what Pulitzer does exactly (maybe a robber baron for the railways or something idk) but Katherine is still a reporter and she runs into Jack’s gang once while they’re doing a robbery or something and she’s so intrigued and ot course she writes and article about them. Eventually she finds herself follow in them around just to get good material for the paper. Of course Jack realizes this because what a coincidence that the same lady keeps showing up all over the place. He asks her what’s up and she tells him that she’s the one who’s been writing everything in the newspapers and he’s like “well in that case I suppose we don’t have a problem”

One day she sees Jack and David kiss and obviously writes a (bit exaggerated) article about the romance within the gang (Bonnie and Clyde style dramatization) and Jack and Davey are both like 😦 at first and then they’re like teehee 🤭 we are pretty cute ain’t we

[noxexistant]

tiny amount of uksies notes from 25/06/23 evening <3 (morgan oscar, bobbie kath, damon davey, i was sat front row brooklyn to the left)

delanceywatch corner

oscar tossed a wet rag at morris, who flipped him off in return

oscar stole morris’ hat and morris got it back and just kept holding it rather than trying to put it back on

morris climbed up over the edge of the railing like a ballerina. graceful, leg extended, like he was doing barre work

after soaking jack, morris shoved oscar roughly in the chest as they were walking away

also, i don’t know if i’ve ever mentioned this detail before, but it’s consistent - morris steps on jack’s hand during his “so behave” line

morgan and george are fantastic and so different from alex and george’s delancey dynamic. at a few points it feels like their oscar and morris really don’t like each other, and it’s super interesting

bobbie katherine is bold and having so much fun during kony, giving orders to the boys and encouraging them and opening her arms expectantly every time she wants to be lifted down from the tables

damon davey is actively terrified and cowering away from the dancing. but he smiles shyly when he meets the eyes of any of the boys, and tipped his hat at one of them

katherine is actively teasing davey and trying to coax him to join in, while he’s laughing and anxiously refusing

jojo and buttons bicker over who gets the water in jacobi’s. jojo’s saying it’s his, but buttons ignores him and takes it and drinks most of it before finally relenting and handing it over. jojo gulps down the rest and glares.

mike knocked over someone’s (race’s? tommy boy’s?) water in jacobi’s and was giggling about it as the cup rolled under the table. he then sat pretending to be oblivious while making the person duck down to get it themself.

crutchie is super confused when davey and les don’t follow the rest of the boys after sales and instead go in a different direction. he tries to go after them, then scoffs as he remembers and walks back offstage - matthew looked at me as he spat, “folks” and rolled his eyes.

while specs and race are moving chairs offstage, they’re arguing about it - specs has to basically order race to come help, and race is belligerent as he drags the chairs past the front row. he pointed directly at me and snapped “this should be your job!”

[inkwell-illustrations]

My Javey Headcanons

Quickly after the strike Jack made the realization that he has feelings for Davey and Katherine made the realization that she is a lesbian (and in love with Sarah) so they broke up and Jack quickly got with Davey, Jack and Katherine are still friends but they’re not lovers anymore

Jack is very possessive over Davey especially whenever Romeo talks to him often putting his arm around him or holding his hand tightly to show that Davey’s his the reason for this is because of Romeo's constant flirtatious comments towards Davey saying things like “hey handsome” or  “did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” ect. Jack hates whenever Romeo does this and has threaten him a number of times

Davey once saw Jack attempt to cook something now he's banned from the kitchen

They frequently slow dance together

Davey can't draw for shit but Jack can

Jack gently runs his fingers through Davey's hair when he thinks he think's asleep

Jack thinks that Davey isn't aware

Jack doesn't know this but he's fully aware of it

Davey will pretend to be asleep sometimes just to get Jack to do it

Jack will lovingly say "Shut up" to Davey whenever he get's too flirty

[newsies00weirdo]

Two Bruh’s Chillin’ in A Hot Tub (Five Feet Apart Cuz They’re Not Gay!) 1️⃣

I got the idea from Some newsies vines and I was like “Race, Spot and Albert are so filming Jack and Davey” so… yeh here. MODERN AU NEWSIES JAVEY AND SPRALBERT PART 1️⃣ (don’t judge. First fic on tumblr.

——— ———————-

“POOL” Les cried, excitedly when the Jacob’s family had arrived at the hotel they were staying at. “Les, it’s like, nine in the morning and we JUST got here.” Sarah told the boy, who’d stared at the hot tub like it was a piece of candy.

David Jacobs, the taller one to Sarah’s left, had laughed at the hyperactive kid that was his brother. In all honesty, he just wanted a day where no one talks to him whatsoever. He doesn’t think that’s what’s going to happen, but it’s fun to dream. And when that dream gets shipped away on the Reality Boat, you say ‘goddamit’ because that realization hits you. That realization hit David when they’d gotten to their room, and the people above them were jumping around or something.

This was going to be the longest week EVER.

—+++—

Jack Kelly, on the other hand, was having the best time of his life. Race, his brother, was jumping on the bed like some kind of animal and he didn’t mind. Charlie sat in the corner, chastising Race for being rude to the people downstairs.

He wasn’t unhappy, he was… unsatisfied. Jack just couldn’t find out what to paint. It had been three days and nothing. No inspiration. There’d have to be a miracle to get Jack to paint.

“Why don’t you paint Santa Fe? You’ve done it millions of times before” Charlie suggested after Race FINALLY stopped monkeying around.

“It’s just, not what this canvas needs right now. Charlie? I think I have writers block” Jack said after a moment of silence.

There was a gasp that went beyond the room. ‘Dang it, these walls are so thin’ Jack thought. ‘I’m gonna alert the authorities if someone can get in my phone because I talked to loud.’

“Did I just hear the Great Jack Kelly, lost his natural aptitude for a day?!” Albert says in the room next to them.

“Well, Jack-be-nimble-Jack-be-quick lost his ability to paint!” Spot laughed.

“Shut up, it’ll be back in about an hour!” Charlie retorted and the others stopped. “But seriously, why are these walls so thin?!” Spot asked.

Jack was told by someone on the plane, Katherine Plumber? Well, who ever it was said that the man who owns this hotel is rich, and he basically tries to buy the cheapest stuff. Bless Katherine’s heart, because he now has a witness when he goes to court. +=+=+

David could hear the people above him talking about ‘artist block’ or something like that. But who is Jack, and what the heck’s going on up there? Guess he’ll never know.

………………………………………………"……………………………………………………….

Well actually he would know in a couple of days when he’d happen to run into this Jack.

And David, might be the cure to his artist block.

but that all depends on fate, and I am god.

[livesincerely]

hungry like the wolf

Also on Ao3. Rated E

00000

“So,” Jack starts, once they’ve both gotten their drinks, drumming his fingers against the bar top.

The absolutely gorgeous man sitting on the stool next to him swirls his vodka cranberry around in its glass, then takes a sip, vividly blue eyes peering at him from over the rim.

“So,” he agrees. “I guess there’s no point in beating around the bush. Are you…” he searches for the right word, something sheepish—chagrined, almost—tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Interested? No hard feelings if you aren’t, I know this wasn’t your idea—“

He shakes his head, then runs a weary hand over his forehead, further ruffling an already tousled head of curls.

“Just tell Sarah it didn’t work out. Feel free to blame me if you need to, she already thinks I’m hopeless so she’ll believe it if you say I ran you off. I’ll pay for your beer, give you some cash for a cab home—“

“Hang on a sec,” Jack interrupts before he can be politely hustled out the door. “What makes you think ‘m not interested?”

That seems to draw him up short. “Are you?”

“I could be,” Jack says, and he’s proud of himself for how nonchalant he manages to sound. “I’m mostly just kinda confused, Sarah didn’t exactly go int’a much detail. Maybe you can fill me in on the rest and we can go from there? You’re a succubus?”

“Sarah’s a succubus,” he corrects, relaxing back into his seat. “I’m an incubus—well, half, anyway—but it’s basically the same thing. And it’s honestly not that big a deal, Sarah just thinks that now that she and Katherine are engaged she needs to meddle in my love life too. My name’s David, by the way,” he tacks on as an afterthought, “in case she forgot to mention.”

“It did come up, funnily enough,” Jack replies with a grin. “It’s good ta meet ya, Dave. I’m Jack Kelly.”

“Jack Kelly,” Davey repeats slowly, as if testing the shape of the name in his mouth. “And what, exactly, did my sister have to bribe you with to convince you to come here tonight, Jack Kelly?”

“Well, don’t say it like that,” Jack laughs, leaning closer. “It ain’t like she had’ta twist my arm. All she told me was that she had a brother that was coming off a break up and hadn’t eaten in a while, and maybe would I be willing ta meet up with him, see if we’d hit it off.”

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Davey huffs, exasperated. “I told Sarah that Tony and I weren’t— I had an arrangement with a good friend of mine, we’ve known each other for years and we had a system in place. But then he went and fell in love with a Selkie,” —Davey rolls his eyes but his mouth curls into a smile, soft and small and fond— “and left me high and dry. And I guess getting back into the dating pool just seemed like a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

Jack pauses.

“…Are you interested in any of this?” he asks carefully. “‘Cause I get it, going along with something ‘cause your sibling strong-armed you into it, so feel free ta tell me ta fuck off, I won’t be offended—“

“No,” Davey blurts, reaching out to grab Jack’s forearm to stop him from rising. “No, that’s not— I’m not— I’m not, not interested, it’s just —“

His gaze drops for a moment, shoulders slumping as he lets out a sigh.

“Dating’s hard,” he quietly admits. “Especially for me, I tend to have the absolute worst luck with partners. If they’re not weird about the incubus thing then they turn out to be complete assholes. So, I usually don’t even bother.”

“But,” Jack starts, confused for multiple reasons, not the least of which is the fact that someone who looks—and Christ, smells—like David Jacobs does should easily have his pick of partners. “Don’t’cha need’ta eat? I mean, how does that work if you don’t—“

“I can eat regular food,” Davey clarifies. “I’m not, like, starving or anything, I get by just fine.” He tilts his head, considering. “I guess the best way to describe it is that it isn’t as filling, isn’t as satisfying, as actual sex.”

Jack’s glad that Davey’s the one to say it first—sex. Something about putting it to words, admitting plainly, what they’re both here for, feels like a point of no return.

He takes another drink of his beer to ease a suddenly parched throat, a hot prickle of desire racing down his spine. He wonders if Davey can feel it too: the hum of connection that starts to spark in air, the vast chasm of possibility that seems to have opened up beneath them. As if hearing Jack’s thoughts, Davey pauses—there’s the slightest hesitation, those blue eyes flashing, as if he can sense sexual attraction like a bloodhound scenting the air—but he continues without comment.

“It’s not even about having sex, not really,” Davey explains. “It’s about the energy of it, being a conduit of that energy, whatever form that might take. Just being around sex, facilitating it, manipulating it, is enough for some. Lots of incubi work as sort-of professional wingmen, or as consultants on porn sets or sex shops—they can be close enough to eat without having to actually engage in any… activities themselves, if they don’t want to.”

Davey taps his fingers against the side of his glass, rolls his shoulders back, then says, “So, don’t feel obligated, is what I’m trying to say. I only want to do this if we’re both interested, and for the right reasons.”

“I promise ya, the last thing I’m feelin’ is obligated,” Jack drawls. “Jus’ as long as we’re both on the same page.”

But Davey still looks uncertain.

“And you’re okay with the whole…” He makes a vague hand-wavy motion over himself. “I’m told my aura can be a touch… overwhelming, once it starts to take effect.”

“‘M not too worried,” Jack says with a shrug. “Werewolves are immune to almost everything—lycanthropy doesn’t exactly play well with other types of magic. Mother Moon tends to be pretty possessive of her children, I guess.”

“Sounds handy,” Davey says.

“‘S got its uses,” Jack agrees. “So you don’t gotta worry ‘bout enchantin’ me or nothin’.” He offers up his most charming smile. “At least, not any more than you already have.

A laugh bubbles off of Davey’s lips. His entire demeanor seems to brighten several clicks, like drawing back a curtain to let in the sun.

“That was smooth!” he accuses, sounding utterly delighted about it.

“I try,” Jack says, just as captivated, grinning right back. “Hopefully, I’m doin’ somethin’ right. You strike me as the kinda guy that’s pretty damn hard’ta impress.”

“Oh, believe me, you’re already head and shoulders above most of my past failures,” Davey says.

“You’re joking,” Jack says, disbelieving. “Been seein’ some real gems, have ya, cariño?”

“If only,” Davey scoffs. “You should’ve seen the last guy, he couldn’t even—“

Davey stops. Then Davey blushes, a flush of pink warming his face.

“Oh, there’s definitely a story there,” Jack says, drinking him in. He feels a little intoxicated, and not from the alcohol. “Spill, Jacobs.”

“There’s not much to say,” Davey lies—so terribly that it’s obvious even without the tell-tale skip in his heartbeat. “The fact that you’re not groping me under the table or visibly drooling is already an excellent sign. If we actually make it to a bed without incident I’ll be thrilled. And even then, most of them usually can’t manage to… aren’t able to…”

He trails off, awkward, and all at once the heart of the problem becomes obvious.

“Oh,” Jack realizes. “They can’t keep up with you.”

Davey’s blush deepens, which is only spurs Jack on.

“Of course they can’t,” Jack continues, shaking his head. “Eres guapísimo—it’s a miracle their damn brains didn’t melt out their ears.”

“It’s not funny, Davey protests, but it’s a halfhearted effort at best. “The last guy I tried to hookup with came in his pants in the back of an Uber—we didn’t even make it four blocks! I wasn’t even touching him. Then he didn’t understand why I was absolutely uninterested in doing anything except going home, alone. And then,” Davey leans closer, starting to gesture with his hands as talks, “he tracked me down on venmo a few days later and tried to stick me with his dry cleaning bill!”

Jack can’t help it: he barks out a laugh. “He didn’t!”

“Yes he fucking did!” Davey insists. “And, honestly, I’m not sure if that even cracks the top ten of ‘David Jacobs’ Tragic Attempts at Romance’—“

“There’s worse?” Jack asks. “Christ, sweetheart, I’m startin’ ta feel like I should be properly wining and dining ya, help make up for some of the assholes.”

“You won’t be making up for anything if you don’t stop laughing at me,” Davey grumbles, but he’s not truly annoyed—there’s a playful spark behind his eyes, anticipation written into every line of his body. “Besides, who’s to say you won’t be more of the same?”

“Ain’t gonna happen,” Jack says, confident.

“Sounds like someone’s sure of themselves,” Davey muses, arching a brow.

“Sounds ta me like the bar ain’t that high,” Jack counters with a cheeky grin. “Don’t be an inconsiderate dickhead and don’t tap out pathetically early—shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“And you think you can handle it?”

“If there’s one thing a werewolf’s got in spades,” Jack purrs. “It’s stamina.”

Davey’s eyes go deliciously dark.

“You’re not cute,” he informs Jack pertly, and the challenge in his voice probably isn’t meant to be as enticing as it is. Probably.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jack says, and he lets his fangs drop as he leans forward, running his tongue over the razor sharp canines that peek out from underneath his smirk. “I’m fucking adorable.”

He doesn’t miss the way Davey’s eyes drop to his mouth, the way his throat bobs around a swallow. Jack just barely resists the urge to preen under his attention.

Without lifting his gaze, Davey says, in a voice that’s gone whiskey-smooth, “Shall we head out then?”

“Don’t’cha wanna finish your drink first?” Jack teases. “An’ I still got half a beer left.”

In answer, Davey tips his head back and downs the rest of his drink in one go, then he reaches over and plucks Jack’s beer out of his now slack grip and tosses that back too.

The empty glass lands against the bar top with a solid thunk but it’s barely a blip on Jack’s radar. Because Davey cups a hand around Jack’s jaw and draws him into a long, searing kiss. He tastes of hops and wolfsbane, cranberry and vodka, and something that must be uniquely Davey—warm and smokey and with a hint of bite.

Davey pulls away just enough for Jack to see the deep blue of his eyes, the thick canopy of his lashes. “And now?”

It takes Jack a second to find his voice, the keys in the ignition but the engine refusing to turn over. He rasps, “After you.”

00000

Davey’s apartment ends up being about ten minutes away, but god it feels like an eternity. They walk through the bustling sidewalks, street lamps and stars lighting their way, their hands not-quite brushing, their eyes not-quite meeting.

When they reach their destination, Davey works the deadbolt open, ushering him inside with a knowing smirk. Jack lets him hang up his jacket and keys, watches him nudge the door shut with his hip, then pins him up against it and slots their mouths together for another heated kiss.

Davey pulls him in immediately, his hands grabbing at Jack’s collar, tugging him closer, the press of his mouth sweet and soft. Jack sighs into him, lifting his chin for a better angle, hands fumbling for the hem of Davey’s sweater, running calloused fingertips over the small of his back, the curve of his waist.

“Wait, wait,” Davey pants against his mouth. He twists out of Jack’s embrace, then darts around the corner into what must be the kitchen. Befuddled and horny, Jack lumbers after him.

He finds him rummaging around in his fridge.

“Do you have a preference for Gatorade?” Davey asks. “I’ve got red and purple.”

“What?” Jack says, stupidly. “Uh, red, I guess.”

Davey hums in response. Under his breath he mutters to himself, “I’ll grab two, just to be safe.”

He nudges the refrigerator door closed with his hip, then turns and opens a cabinet. He pulls out a box of granola bars and grabs a handful.

“Dave, what are you doing?” Jack finally asks.

“Getting supplies,” Davey says, as though this should be obvious. “Can’t have you passing out on me.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Jack says, bemused, stepping closer. “‘M made of pretty stern stuff.”

“Oh, so lycanthropy protects you from low blood sugar, now, does it?” Davey asks, pinning him with a spectacularly bitchy look. God, Jack’s already so fucking stupid for this man, it’s embarrassing. “Keeps your electrolytes properly balanced? Wow, that must be one hell of a party trick—“

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Jack says, curling himself around Davey’s back, letting his hands settle low over his hips. “You’re the expert, I’ll let you handle it.”

“Did you already have dinner?” Davey wonders. “I should’ve asked earlier, while we were still at the bar… Do you want something to eat? I can get you something—“

“What I really want is to get back’ta kissing you,” Jack murmurs, pressing his lips to the hollow behind Davey’s ear; Davey goes gratifyingly still in his arms, his pulse fluttering delicately beneath his skin. “So, if I promise to let you know the moment I get thirsty and have a big breakfast in the mornin’, can we please move you and your Gatorade somewhere more comfortable?”

“…and the granola bars,” Davey bargains.

“And the granola bars,” Jack easily concedes. “I’ll even eat one right now if it’ll make you feel better.”

Davey chews at his lip, hesitating. “Would you?” he implores softly.

Jack’s never choked down a granola bar so fast in his life.

Reluctantly reassured, Davey allows himself to be drawn into another kiss—gentle, at first, but it quickly becomes filthy—all tongues and teeth, gasps and sighs, moans and groans. They’re tangled together: Jack’s hands threaded in Davey’s hair, Davey’s thigh pressed hot and hard between his legs, the smoking embers of desire sparking into flame.

“Bedroom?” Jack manages to tear himself away long enough to ask.

“Bedroom,” Davey agrees, and long, elegant fingers curl around Jack’s wrist, dragging him down the hallway.

Jack barely gets a chance to take in the bed before Davey’s pushing him down onto it, lifting himself up and straddling him in a single fluid move. Jack’s hands land on his waist, then slip down to cup his ass, and there’s something heady in the air, linen and woodsmoke twinning together, like lazy winter nights spent in front of the fireplace, wrapped snugly in a blanket, toasty and warm and wonderous.

“Christ,” Jack growls, almost helplessly, against the hollow of his throat, not really meaning to be heard. “How do you smell so fucking good?”

“Sex demon, remember?” Davey says, laughing, rocking their hips together in a rough, dirty grind. “Guess it just comes with the territory.”

“I’ll show you territory,” he mutters, leaning in with intent. He tracks a path along Davey’s neck with his lips, then follows it back with his teeth, working a bruise into the column of his throat. Davey squirms under his attention, tipping his head back to give him better access, and that tiniest hint of surrender drives some bestial part of Jack’s subconscious absolutely wild, pressing in again and again and again.

He pulls away to admire his handiwork.

“Possessive,” Davey notes, his eyes dark with a special sort of relish.

“Oh, you’d know all about possession, wouldn’t you sweetheart,” Jack banters back, brushing one final kiss to the delicate skin.

Davey goes very still, and for one horrible moment Jack worries he’s overstepped. But then he smiles, his scent spiking—sweet and smoky and downright delectable—like the most mouthwatering caramel and somehow just as thick.

“Oh, darling,” Davey says, and Jack can feel his hand draped over the nape of his neck, fingertips just barely brushing against the skin, sending electric tingles down his spine. “I might just have to keep you.”

“You’re killin’ me, Jacobs,” Jack’s groans, his heart pounding double-time in his chest. “Clothes. Off. Fuck.”

They separate just enough to strip: Jack pulls his shirt over his head, and when Davey doesn’t manage to tear out of his sweater—and the button up he’s wearing underneath, fucking hell—within the point five seconds Jack can stand to keep his hands to himself, he starts helping with those too, eager to uncover every square inch of skin.

“How do you want to do this?” Davey asks as he kicks out his pants. Jack barely hears him, he’s too busy staring: his ass and thighs could’ve been carved from marble, works of the finest art. “Top or bottom?”

“I’m good either way,” Jack answers, fighting with his own belt. “This is your party, Dave. Dealer's choice.”

“I think I want you inside me,” Davey decides, giving him a long once over. “At least for this round.”

“Fine by me,” Jack rasps. “Here, I think I gotta condom in my wallet—“

Davey stops him with a hand on his arm. “I… would you be totally against going without?” he asks. “I’m clean and I can’t catch anything, regardless… I assume you can’t either?”

“Advanced healing,” Jack confirms thickly, the words feeling clumsy in his mouth. “I’m game if you are. But, fair warning, without a condom it’s gonna be… messy.”

“Messy sounds perfect,” Davey says lowly, and there’s a flash of pink as he runs his tongue over teeth.

Jack’s dick throbs, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Fuckin’—“ Jack bites off the rest, grabbing Davey by the hips and wrestling him down onto the bed. He can barely think through wanting him, settling in the vee of those perfect thighs, the press of bare skin against bare skin utterly exhilarating. “Drivin’ me crazy—“

“God, your hands,” Davey groans, his eyes half-lidded and heavy. “Please, please touch me.”

Jack winds a hand down between them. He’s just barely cupped his fingers under Davey’s balls—gentle, tentative—when Davey gives a full-body jolt, rearing up so suddenly that they almost headbutt each other.

“Whoa,” Jack yelps. “You okay?“

Davey’s mouth works soundlessly for a few moments. He’s flushed so deeply that it bleeds down his throat and chest, painting him in a wash of rosy pink.

“Scratch that,” he finally gasps out. “Get inside me.”

“Now?”

“Now,” Davey insists, expression wild and a touch desperate. “Just come here— oh, oh fuck—“

Jack scrambles to line himself up at Davey entrance. Confused, maybe a little panicked, he says, “But I didn’t prep ya—“

“I’m fine, it’s fine, just, please—“

And there’s no resistance as Jack slides home, Davey’s body accepting him easily, eagerly, hot and tight and gloriously good.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” Jack murmurs, watching Davey’s wide-eyed expression, a little overwhelmed at the sight he makes splayed out against the sheets, writhing in what can only be described as ecstasy as Jack bottoms out. “I knew ya needed it but I didn’t realize how badly.”

“Sorry,” Davey says. His lips are red and kiss-swollen, his hands fisted into the bedding on either side of him, but he still manages to say, his chest heaving, “I didn’t mean to lose it like that. I guess it really has been a while…” He blinks hard. “Did I freak you out too badly or are you okay to keep going?”

“Ain’t like I'm gonna take off, is it?” Jack muses. He pulls out just a bit, then carefully thrusts back in, sinking even further into that exquisite heat. “I’m literally balls deep inside you.”

“Consent is a continuous contract,” Davey lectures, because it tracks that Davey’s the type that can host a whole goddamn seminar while Jack is trying to fuck him stupid. But not even he can hide how his words are a breathless rasp, that his voice threaded with aching, blatant desire. “It can be retracted or reassessed at any time—“

He breaks off with another gasp as Jack rolls his hips forward, nice and slow, then does it again, starting up a steady rhythm.

“Quierdo, unless you say otherwise, they’d have to drag me off of you by my hair,” Jack vows, not entirely sure if he’s exaggerating or not. There’s just something about Davey—the snark and sweetness and sin of him—that draws him in, beckons him closer, makes something deep inside of him pant and tremble and howl. “Is this good for you? Less or more or…?”

“More,” is Davey’s immediate response. “More, oh god, please more—“

Jack leans in and kisses him then, unable to resist, and Davey arches into him like he’s starving for it—Christ, he probably is.

He lingers there for a long moment, their mouths moving together, fierce and frenzied. Then he ducks his head and presses his nose into the space just under Davey’s jaw because he has to, has to lick and nibble and mark all that delicious, delectable skin, and Davey makes a noise that’s pure want. He tilts his head, baring his already bruised throat for another round of marks, and Jack can’t help the rumbling growl that carves its way out of his chest, deep and possessive.

“Oh, fuck,” Davey moans, his heels digging sharper into the small of Jack’s back.

He feels untethered, unmoored, waves of pleasure battering at the hull of the ship, threatening to upend him at any moment. His hips snap forward, almost of their own accord, and he finds a solid, steady pace that’s just this side of brutal. There’s the slap of skin against skin, gasps and groans, the smell of burnt-sugar-sweetness growing heavy in the air, so strong that Jack can almost taste it.

Davey gives as good as he gets: rocking into each of Jack’s thrusts, tugging at Jack’s hair until he moans, his gaze growing darker and darker until his eyes are almost black, and god he’s so fucking gorgeous. The molten vice of him is like nothing else: searing, sizzling heat, hot enough to smolder and scorch, and impossibly, exquisitely tight. Fuck. Fuck.

Davey lets out a lovely little whimper, grabbing for Jack’s shoulders, and Jack realizes a moment too late that his thrusts are starting to catch against Davey’s hole, the base of his cock beginning to swell.

“Ah, shit,” Jack groans, recognizing that familiar tightening deep in his gut. “Dave, I think I’m gonna— My knot, it’s— Should I—?”

“Your… knot?”

“Werewolf thing,” Jack grunts. “Want me to pull out?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Davey orders, locking his ankles over the small of Jack’s back. “Give it to me.”

Jack couldn’t resist, even if he wanted to. His hips stutter, pistoning strokes turning to rough, dirty grinds. He presses in one last time, nice and deep, then his vision goes white as his orgasm rushes over him.

“Oh,” Davey mewls as Jack’s knot locks inside of him, his mouth slack with bliss. “Oh, that’s— Oh, oh, oh, oh—!”

He comes with a silent scream, the hot clench of his body squeezing around him as he trembles and pants, and Jack can only hold him—hold onto him—nuzzling at his sweaty temple as he rides it out.

“Okay?” Is the first thing Davey mumbles when he finds his voice again.

“Pretty sure I should be askin’ you that,” Jack murmurs fondly. “But ‘m fine.”

“Good.”

Davey shifts slightly, testing the pull of their bodies; Jack hisses, grabbing for his thigh to keep him close as another burst of pleasure spills out of him.

“Sensitive,” Jack rasps, and the sudden worry in Davey’s expression clears, replaced by understanding.

“Oh,” Davey says, biting his lip. His thigh flexes in Jack’s grip. “Do you think we can flip over or is that asking too much?”

With a bit of maneuvering, Jack manages, cradling him close to his chest as they bask in the afterglow.

“How long until it goes down?” Davey asks after a few long moments of breathing and cuddling and laying together, tracing patterns over Jack’s bicep with his fingertips.

“Uh, fifteen minutes on the short side,” Jack says. “Maybe half an hour on the long.”

“Hmm,” Davey acknowledges. He brushes his hair out of his face and shifts back on his haunches, settling down so that he’s properly straddling Jack’s lap. Jack cracks an eye open, confused, but before he can ask, Davey says, “Tell me if this is too much,” and clenches his ass around Jack’s knot.

Jack’s eyes fly open, a harsh, strangled sound clawing its way out of his throat.

Davey’s watching him intently—smug and expectant and far too pleased with himself—a king perched on his throne.

“Oh, darling,” Davey purrs, working his hips in a tight, devastating circle. “Surely you didn’t think I was anywhere close to finished with you?”

Jack’s hands shoot to Davey’s hips: not to keep him still so much as to give himself something to hold on to, his grip bruisingly tight.

But Davey only seems to delight in this reaction. He hums, low in the back of his throat, his scent smoldering with fresh arousal, his eyes shining with self-satisfaction.

“Too much?” Davey asks again, and Jack can’t find the words to answer with. His entire body is alight, his nerves strung out and sparking, dancing right on edge between terrible pleasure and delicious pain. Then Davey rocks up, squeezing and tugging at Jack’s swollen knot.

“Dave,” he gasps, ragged, the word torn from him.

He can barely keep his eyes open, can barely breathe through how thoroughly Davey’s destroying him, but it’s worth it just to take it all in. Because Davey is an absolute vision above him, all lean, sensual strength, his neck and chest flushed with effort, taking his pleasure and dragging Jack right along with him.

“Jack,” Davey says, more firmly this time, and Jack realizes that his lashes have fluttered shut, his eyes rolling back in his head. “I need an answer.”

“I— It’s—“ That’s as far as Jack gets. Everything seems hazy, unfocused, his vision flickering at the edges, pulse after pulse of heat shuddering through him. He manages a nod.

“Breathe,” Davey soothes, and his hands settle over where Jack’s still holding onto his hips for dear life, thumbs stroking gently over his knuckles. “I’ve got you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jack groans.

He tangles their fingers together for a moment, squeezing, and the contact is grounding and reassuring all at once. He rubs his hands down Davey’s thighs, then somehow finds the coordination to get a hand around Davey dick. He rubs his thumb over the red, leaking tip and Davey’s rhythm stutters, his head falling back as he arcs into the sensation.

“Ah,” he moans, hips twitching as Jack pumps his hand down the shaft, jerking his cock hard and fast in his fist, because he needs to make him fall off that edge, needs it like he needs the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins.

“Jack,” he chants. “Jack, Jack, Jackie, oh god, just like that, don’t stop, don’t—“

His voice breaks, the clench of his ass becomes fucking blistering, just hot and tight and perfect and—

Static. Jack’s not sure if he’s coming again or if he never stopped in the first place, pain and pleasure twisting together in terrible, glorious harmony. When it finally ends, when he finally floats down from that impossible high, he comes back to himself in pieces, wrung out and winded, utterly exhausted.

“…I see what’cha meant about the Gatorade,” he eventually mutters, feeling like he’s run a marathon.

Davey huffs out a laugh. He looks about as wrecked as Jack feels, but there’s something different about him now—a fresh glow to his skin, stress and tension smoothed away—as if someone’s distilled good health down to the essentials and injected it right into his veins.

“You look good,” Jack says, brushing a stray curl out of Davey’s eyes. “Feelin’ better?”

”Much better,” Davey assures him.

“Sweet,” Jack mumbles, nuzzling into the curve of his neck. “Go team.”

Another laugh from Davey, but gentler somehow. He presses a kiss to the top of Jack’s head and murmurs, “I really am going to have to keep you.”

“Not if I keep you first,” Jack replies, lacing their hands together. It feels like the best kind of promise.

[pigeonwit]

For the writing questions: POV?

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

(i understand the point of this specific ask game was just to write little two-sentence fic-bits but. i thought 'run boy run jack POV' and it didn't stop. so this is less 'something that's already happened' and more 'everything that's happened so far, just more condensed' so uh. sorry bout that!)

Jack’s not stupid. He’s not smart, no matter how much Katherine and Davey try to convince him otherwise, but he’s not stupid – he knows when something’s wrong with Davey. It’s not as easy as with the other fellas; Jack’s spent his whole life picking up tells, learning expressions, memorizing little physical quirks and vocal clues until he could read the entire lodging house like the morning paper. But Davey... He knows how to hide himself with a talent that verges on terrifying if Jack thinks about it too much. Jack might be able to paint on a brighter expression, to tune his voice into something cheerful, but Davey entirely rewrites himself, shifts to better fit the narrative he’s written, and it makes actually getting a grasp on him all the more difficult. But even if Davey’s the guy Jack’s known for the least, he’s still the guy Jack knows the most, and as convincing as Davey is when he’s playing a role, Jack’s learned over time how to pick apart his inconsistencies.

Davey’s not meant to be quiet. Jack had that figured out the moment Davey opened his smart mouth and told Weasel he’d shorted his papers. As much as he’d wanted to roll his eyes at the pretty little schoolboy who’d decided to kick it with the street kids for some extra pocket change, Davey’d been determined – whether he was aware of it or not – to knock down Jack’s expectations brick by shoddy brick. Davey’s always had a loudness about him; he gathers a glare in his brows that just begs a person to say something stupid for him to shut down; he has a squareness to his shoulders that gives him the affect of the towers marking the Brooklyn Bridge, sturdy and unshakable, and he keeps a sharp, knowing look in his eyes that almost does all the talking for him, picking apart every argument and insecurity in the person before him without needing to say a word. Even when Davey’s silent, he’s loud – the only reason people don't notice is because he's never let them. He's spent his whole life learning how to be quiet, because boys like Davey aren’t meant to be loud. They’re meant to nod their heads, smile politely, and be grateful for the little they’ve been given, or else they lose everything. It’s what made Jack so proud, so stunned, so blown away by the sheer force of nature that is Davey Jacobs – because as much as he gives Jack the credit for making him who he is, all Jack really gave him was an opportunity. An opportunity to just be heard. And Davey took that opportunity and ran with it, with Jack by his side, throwing away a whole life’s worth of lessons forced into him since birth.

So what else is Jack meant to think, if Davey’s so quiet now?

He’d tried not to assume the worst when Davey went back to school. He’d be a hypocrite, really, to just assume Davey’d throw them all away for an education, when he’d been far more loyal to the newsies within the span of a few months than Jack ever had in his whole life. But he couldn’t help but wonder if this was it, if this was where Davey left and David started all over again – the good and responsible family man who took care of his loved ones and no one else, least of all himself. It’d dug a pit in his stomach, the thought of the dull-eyed schoolboy, killing himself a little bit every day just to prove he was good at this, whatever ‘this’ was to him. But Davey persisted, because of course he did, that’s what Davey does. He’s seen Davey roll his eyes and complain about what a good, upstanding student he used to be before he met Jack, but Jack knows that fight was always there, and all those little rebellions and tiny acts of justice have only been growing under Davey’s newfound pride.

He’d left the school gates with all of himself intact, save for maybe his time-management skills, and spent their evening hawking and joking and just being them. Clearly, all of Jack’s worries had been for nothing. Especially when Davey complained about how girls, for whatever reason, just kept on talking to him. Jack couldn’t even put his relief into words – all he could bring himself to do was laugh, because of course that was what Davey had done. Truly, it was the only Davey thing he could have done. And Jack loved him for it.

But then… Jack can’t describe it. He wishes he could say it happened almost overnight, but he knew better than that. He’d seen the signs – like when he paints and feels his fingers twitch just so, but brushes it off as something not worth worrying about. It wasn’t until he saw the big picture that he really noticed.

Davey won’t talk to him anymore. He’ll speak, but he won’t talk. They used to talk about everything, about Santa Fe and owning a dog, about the Refuge and Davey’s father, about Jack’s suffocating pipe fantasies and the big uncertain void labelled ‘Davey’s future’. Now it’s just… Hollow. It’s all selling and ‘how’s things?’ and the fucking weather. And he won’t touch him, either – fine, yes, Davey’s never been the most touchy-feely guy, but Jack thought, perhaps vainly, that he was the exception to that rule. He remembers the first time Davey ever kicked his boot against Jack’s ankle. The first time he put a hand to Jack’s shoulder. The first time he rested his temple against Jack’s own, touching him without any barriers between them. If it was anyone else, he would’ve called himself stupid for reading into it – but Davey’s meant to be read into. Even when he tried to make himself unheard, he kept all his messages hidden away in tiny gestures – little nods, fidgeting fingers, small wiggles when he got too excited to keep it inside. Little notes in all his margins. Perhaps a picture’s worth a thousand words, but just one of Davey’s words is worth a million on its own.

Jack still thinks about it, sometimes. Davey smiling at him from the top of those basement stairs, saying ‘it’s good to have you back again,’ and somehow cramming so much meaning into the spaces between the words, so many hidden scribbles that Jack would spend years deciphering all of them.

Well, he thinks bitterly – perhaps Davey has someone else to talk to now. Someone else to puzzle out his secret messages, someone else to share his tiny smiles when they understand him just right.

That’s not fair. Jack knows it. He knows it’s not fair to hate Davey’s girl, whatever her name is-

(He knows her name, it’s Florence, he half-heard-half-saw Davey say it when he was pretending not to eavesdrop on them over the din of the street, and now he can’t forget it, no matter how hard he tries.)

-just for existing in all the ways Jack wishes he could. With Davey. Knowing him. Joking with him. Pressing a kiss to that sharp cheekbone and watching him turn into a stuttering mess over it all. But it’s even more unfair that Jack has to just sit and watch her do that when he’s the one who’s been thinking about it for months on end. He’s the one who knows that Davey hates having his tie pulled too tight, he’s the one who knows that Davey hates having stuff sprung on him, he’s the one who knows Davey - or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he just wishes he did because Davey knew him so perfectly. Maybe the thought that really scared him about Davey going back to school was Davey being absolutely fine. Davey being the one to leave after forcing Jack – whether he knew it or not – to stay.

That’s not fair, either. Davey’s not his replacement Santa Fe. Santa Fe was always a pipedream, something made of smoke for Jack to dream on… But Davey’s the one who showed Jack how to plan instead of just dream. To stop driving himself to the brink over fantasies and see the future he could have, if only he committed to it. And he can’t imagine that future without Davey – but Davey’s been planning a thousand futures since before he knew Jack existed. Davey’s the one who always knew the facts of the matter, and the facts of the matter are that Jack’s only a newsboy that Davey knew for a summer. Davey's been planning for a future his whole life, and Jack knows better than anyone that he’s not solid ground. Not for Davey.

But if Davey is falling – and perhaps it's selfish to think so, but Jack's certain he is – then Jack will do his best to catch him anyways. To make himself a soft place for him to land. If Davey doesn’t fall away from him, that is.

[we-are-inevitable]

give me all the sad davey headcanons now

ohohooohoohoyou don’t know what you’ve just done

idk if these are modern or canon era at this point i just know i want to shake this man in a pringles can

somehow, he always feels out of place. even when he’s integrated into the friend group, he doesn’t Feel like it; the group is huge and has a lot of inside jokes and tbh he just doesn’t know where he fits. he’s close with jack, yes, and is friends with katherine, but aside from that its a guessing game of who likes him because he’s Himself or who likes him because jack Says to like him.

i've talked to @roideny about this quite a bit but this also falls into the Parentification of David Jacobs! basically, davey sees himself as an older brother rather than an individual- it's not by choice, and maybe he doesn't consciously realize it, but his default is Older Brother. he'll drop everything to take care of les, because that's always been his role. and sarah helps too, but sarah has a life and sarah has friends and school and everything else- david doesn't want her to lose that, so he just,, assumes the role of Backup Parent.

he tends to get really overwhelmed a lot. i like to think that he gets one of two ways when he’s overwhelmed: he’s either snappy and rude, or completely shuts down. he doesn’t like either option. he has a lot of coping skills but its a matter of if he can get them working in time

he never feels like he’s good enough. his family is so important to him, but there are a lot of expectations on his shoulders and he feels like if he doesn’t live up to them he’s going to ruin the family dynamic <3 he just wantsto make them proud and that manifests into him making his family his entire life and rarely ever having Fun until he actually makes friends with the newsies

that being saud, he doesn’t really… feel like a person? like i don’t know if he knows who he is. he knows that he’s stubborn and headstrong, and he knows his values and what he’ll fight for— as @wineandhargreeves said, davey feels like he is little more than his words. if he doesn't speak out, then he's nothing.

he knows he's good at helping, he knows he's good at advocating for his friends, but he doesn’t know his favorite color- people just say he looks good in blue and he sticks with it. he only listents to music that his friends recommend and he doesn’t ever try to find anything else. he doesn’t know what a personal fashion sense is, he doesn’t know what he wants to study, and he pushes every crazy, wild dream away because he has to stay in reality (at least until he gets closer to jack. jack helps him find this individualistic side)

and to touch on those crazy, wild dreams: he just wants to Live. i feel like jack's dream is to get out and explore, but davey is fine staying in one spot, as long as he's the one making the terms. he wants to make a home where he feels like he can be himself, not just David, not just Davey- his sense of self is so disjointed because there is a constant push and pull between who his family wants him to be, who the newsies think he is, and who he is on his own. davey's dream is to have a space where he can just Exist instead of living a double life (not that it's really a double life, but there's an obvious difference between Newsie Davey and Eldest Son David).

time to switch gears a little bit!

i rlly feel like davey’s autism would be really hard to navigate for him. he was diagnosed when he was young, yes, but he’s always felt like he has to make up for that (even when his family tells him he doesn’t have to). this man masks so hard that when he gets really overwhelmed and has a meltdown, they’re bad. they last a long time and he really doesn’t know how to stop them; they just kind of happen and he has to ride it out.

another note on masking: he's always masking. he masks at home, and he masks with the newsies too- but the mask is different. i feel like after davey's initial reluctance to join the newsies, he really considers them friends, but in his mind that means that he has to immediately morph into what he Thinks they want to be around? he basically creates this persona to fall into, because thats what he thinks he has to do. spit shakes, gambling during late night poker games, running from the cops- and it's fun, don't get him wrong, but it's not davey.

tl;dr: most of my Davey angst comes from his lack of a sense of self, and i believe he really, really has to work on knowing exactly who he is, not just what he cares about in a social/political/familial standpoint. davey cares deeply about issues affecting those he loves, but he only knows himself on a surface level; all he wants is to be a normal teenage boy who doesn't have to worry about how the world perceives him. and i think that is so lovely for him.

[cowboy-caboodles]

Cuddle Buddies 💕

They’re so important to me!! 😫🫂

WAHHHHH

[emmedoesntdomath]

ANOTHER QUESTION I WAS TOO DUMB TO ASK:

WHAT ARE ALL YOUR NEWSIE SHIPS/SEXUALITY HCS/GENDER HCS?!?!

I spent like, a long time thinking about how I was going to do this one, because this will be a ridiculous list. here goes nothing

(also, most of these don’t exactly match what I put in the headcanons. I might go back and change them later)

Francis “Jack Kelly” Sullivan (bisexual, he/they)/David “Davey” Jacobs (gay, he/him) <- I once saw a video compilation of bye bye bye by nsync with jack, and it’s lived rent free in my mind ever since. also, jeremy and michael’s jacks specifically give me he/they vibes

Antonio “Racetrack” Higgins (panromantic, demisexual, he/him)/ Sean “Spot” Conlon (queer, he/him, she/they) <- I feel like spot changes depending on the version, which is definitely not how other people do it, but that’s okay. second set of pronouns are for uksies spot. 

Albert DaSilva (demiromantic, gay, he/it)/ Finch Cortez (he/they)<- don’t come @ me, ralbert shippers, please. I support and love that ship, but doing this way felt more practical. 

Michael “Bumlets” Herrera (bisexual, he/him)/ Jonathan “Skittery” Farrell (gay, he/him) <- hi these are my official headcanon names for them and no I’m not willing to change my mind thanks

Nick “Mush” Meyers (panromantic, they/he)/ Louis “Kid Blink” Ballatt (bisexual, he/him) <- honestly, they’re as canon as javey.

Sarah Jacobs (lesbian, she/her)/ Katherine “Plumber” Pulitzer (bisexual, she/they) <- your honor, I love them. 

“Jojo” De La Guerra (gay, grayromantic, they/them)/ Benjamin “Button” Davenport (gay, he/they/it, ftm) <- I actually refuse to type of jojo’s full name. sorry. 

Snitch (gay, he/him)/ Lorenzo “Itey” (queer, they/it) <- *laughs evilly* you should ask me how I feel about the name itey.

Henry (gay, asexual, he/him, ftm)/ Elmer (alloromantic, he/him) <- elmer is just made of love, and you can fight me on that. 

Dutchy (✨confused✨, he/they/she)/ Snoddy (queer, they/them) <- it feels very on brand to have dutchy being confused. 

William “Bill” Randolph Hearst, Jr. (bisexual, he/him)/ Darcy (gay, he/him) <- who exactly is darcy, anyway, historically??

Bart (biromantic, polyromantic, he/him)/ Myron (gay, he/him) <- LOUD AND CLEAR BROOKLYNS HEREEEEEEE

Hotshot (pansexual, he/him)/ Sniper (queer, they/them) <- that one’s for you @sparkedblaze <3 <3

Charlie “Crutchie” Morris (grayromantic, asexual, he/him) <- crutchie, my love

Leshem “Les” Jacobs (straight, he/him) <- ✨ally✨

Medda Larkin (aromantic, asexual, she/her) <- I love this woman so much, I swear to god

Morris Delancey (queer, asexual, he/they) <- I won’t say I’m a delancey apologist, but I want to give morris a hug.

Oscar Delancey (bisexual, in denial, he/him) <- yes, you read that right. no, I will not take it off.

Romeo (aromantic, he/him) <- pov: I’m dying on this hill

Specs (queer, they/it) <- specssssssssss

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

*jumps on you* KATHERINE PLUMBER FOR THE CHARACTER THING

AAAAA yes!!!! :D

First impression- My first impression of her was actually when I was in Newsies last year. I auditioned for her role, not really knowing anything about her character or the musical itself, and only really knowing her as the main female lead. My first impression of her as a character was definitely that she was going to be one of my favorite ones- I loved her personality and just her character in general!

Impression now- Pretty much the same thing- Katherine has always been one of my favorite characters, and I just love her so much lol

Favorite moment- Literally all of Watch What Happens + Something to Believe In

Idea for a story- I’ve had a story idea jumping around in my brain for a while- writing out her childhood, what started her interest in journalism, and how the decisions she made in the past led to her being an instrumental part of the strike. I’m a sucker for a backstory, lol

Unpopular opinion- While it’s not my absolute favorite ship, I do like Jatherine. They’re pretty cute together, imo.

Favorite relationship- Platonically? I love the idea of a Katherine + Davey friendship! Romantically, I do also love Newsbians :D

Favorite headcanon- I’ve seen this around the newsies fandom before, but I love the headcanon that Katherine realizes she likes girls during the Bowery girls’ performances.

[walkman-cat]

please please tell me things about your detective noir au, it's been living in my head rent free since I saw it

OH BOY !! I love detective noir au soso much thankyou to @pigeonwit for writing the thing which incited me creating it and for helping me with a lot and for being enthusiastic about it ! wbwbw !!

I’ve been using it as a fun design project over a story project for the time being, so plot has been put on a back burner while i focus on research and costume design (and funky character dynamics), but I have got a random assortment of Things I’ve thought up for it wbwbw!

First things first: it’s set in 1927-1928, and I’m using a lot of uksies versions of the characters/character dynamics.

Davey’s (obviously) a Private Eye; he’s somewhat well known because he’ll take any case (it doesn’t matter if his client can’t afford his rates, he’ll solve the case for free) and will not stop until it is solved (sometimes to the detriment of his health). He clings to his morals so hard he leaves fingernail-shaped indents; he’s trying soso hard to stay afloat and keep his head above new york’s criminal underbelly (which is difficult when one of the most influential and feared mob bosses in the city has decided you’re her Good Pal). Most of what he earns goes to his family, he has to provide for them somehow, to return all they did for him somehow. He’s constantly exhausted, he doesn’t remember a time he hasn’t been exhausted.

He’s still autistic and still Jewish I’m never taking that from him wbwbw (he speaks English, Yiddish, Polish, and some Hebrew)

Jack’s the Homme Fatale character. He’s shady, he’s putting on a front, he’s very morally grey, he’s trying so desperately to escape the situation he’s in and find the means to live the life he wants to live over the live he’s been given that he sinks deeper and deeper into crime and the shadier part of the city. He was still a newsie and friends/brothers with Race and Crutchie, and is still in contact with them both.

just imagine michael jack with a long cigarette holder. Those are the vibes.

Did you see me say “unshakeable morals” when describing Davey? Yeah I lied. He killed a man in cold blood once, and he was terrified of how little he felt guilty over it, and how readily he’d kill again if he was in the same situation. The city is seeping in injustice and violence and a part of him was suffocated a long time ago. He tries not to think about it.

He also threatened to kneecap Race’s dad once <3 My guy is clinging onto the concept of Right and Wrong but also has a frequent urge to Maim Bite Kill.

Jack, despite his moral gray-ness, has never killed.

oh btw there’s javid somewhere in there. They’re very detective-thief enemies-to-annoyances-to-lovers (pidge has their dynamic in this au DOWN in this post)

Kath is simultaneously the Fast-Talking Reporter (Kit Plumber) and Dame With A Case (Katherine Pulitzer). She’s less interested in journalism as an industry than she for it’s Purpose, when she stumbles into something she shouldn’t or delves to deeply into an investigation and her bosses tell her to drop it and Forget, she goes either to Jack (as Kit) or to Davey (as Katherine)— sometimes to both.

She doesn’t know that they don’t know that Kit and Katherine are the same person (Jack has no idea Kit Plumber is anything other than a reporter, doesn’t need to ask; Davey has his suspicions over how and why an heiress has yet another case of corruption or something involving the mob, but he doesn’t voice them because she’s generous and maybe also his friend??). This leads to Shenanigans.

People whisper about Spot Conlon in fear throughout New York’s boroughs. She’s a mob boss, and her “family”’s influence has seeped so deep into the city that some people say he’s the real person running it. (Many of the Brooklyn newsies are her lieutenants). She’s also decided that Davey is one of her close friends and allies (because Lillie said that Spot and Davey would be friends and I think it’s funny that this really feared mob boss thinks Davey is his Good Pal and has him over sometimes).

She/He Spot Conlon Real (the rumours and whispers sometimes refer to Spot as a woman, sometimes as a man, and Spot couldn’t care less.)

Spot owns the speakeasy Medda runs and performs at, and it’s her “family” that supplies it with alcohol. Crutchie’s the pianist and Race is its Shady Bartender. He keeps letting Jack into the speakeasy so in retaliation she invites Davey over (with the pretence of exchanging information) because she knows Race doesn’t like Davey very much.

Race’s initial dynamic with Davey is very similar to how it is in act 1 of uksies (Race somewhat hates mostly dislikes and definitely doesn’t trust Davey). By the time the plot begins they’re on slightly better terms (they have a funky dynamic I can’t exactly explain atm but I will one day, but I’ll just say Race trusts Davey mostly because Splasher trusts Davey. Also Davey threatened to kneecap his father when his father found him so there’s also that).

Splasher and Davey have a funky found family dynamic too wbwbw!! Davey helped Splasher one time and Splasher thought he was very cool and started following him around and finding evidence for him (who let this child into mob territory who let this child look at corpses). One time Splasher found a recently-executed body in the East River and he called Davey his dad while Davey was soothing him. Davey calls him boychik.

The newsies of lower manhattan all know Davey as Splasher’s older brother/father figure and Les’ big brother. And also as the guy whose office they hang out in all the time.

Splasher also knows Spot because he’s really good friends with Pips. Pips calls Spot “Spottie”. That’s all.

I’d like it to be very clear that Davey and Jack are both having The Worst Time Of Their Lives but they look so so cool while doing it.

wbwbw that’s all i can think of now, and pretty much all that I’ve explored so far but thank you soso much for asking about detective noir au! it’s a fun time and i enjoy researching designing for it soso much wbwbw

[baura-bear]

Alrighty time to make a post about things I noticed from last nights performance (July 27) honestly most of this is about ensemble stuff (not debut stuff??) there was so much going on and I’m still a bit jet lagged so it was so difficult to figure out where I “should” be looking hahah!

First things first: I realized that Albert and Henry have the exact same pants. Like I always knew they were both plaid but no no they’re identical. HC came about while I noticed this: some days Henry will mistakenly put on Albert’s pants and won’t realize until Albert tries to get dressed and can’t get the pants past his knees. Henry very sheepishly has to undress and hand over the clothes.

Davey is so fucking autistic. Like I never even realized but the “you mean like a strike?” Line with Jack’s response of “yeah you heard Dave were going on strike!” Is totally the thing allistic people do of thinking you have some secret meaning to your words when you were literally just speaking and then Davey being like “NO I NEVER SAID THAT” is him being like WHAT THE FUCK JACK I WAS JUST TRYING TO PUT A WORD TO WHAT YOU WERE DESCRIBING

When Jack’s trying to persuade Davey to join the strike (or start it I suppose?) he gently grabs Davey’s wrist which he YANKS out of Jack’s grip

When Davey says “we’ve got a union!” Albert crouches down to Les and says “You hear that kid?” And winks at him

Both George and Matthew like to play around on the rafters in ways that they definitely should not. Aka George sits on the railing with his legs dangling precariously over the edge (not holding on). Matthew stands on the railing and holds on, leaning out over the edge.

During seize the day both Henry and Ike cry. Ike goes up to Jack (clearly scared and apprehensive) and Jack puts a hand on Ike’s chest and goes the little two finger eyeball pointy thing like “look at me” and tells him it’ll be ok

When they’re all outside the World doors waiting for Jack Davey and Les, Finch grabs Crutchie from behind and drags him out of the way when the boys get throw out. Crutchie says “What’re you doing?!” To which finch replies “are you crazy?”

Before KoNY Tommy Boy switches his (empty) cup with Splasher’s (full) cup much to Splashers disappointment (he turns it upside down and looks inside then glares at Tommy Boy who is drinking the rest of the water)

During “tomorrow they may wrap fishes in it” Albert pretends to reel Tommy Boy in with a fishing rod then they both flop around pretending to be fish

After KoNY Les, Davey, and Katherine climb up the stairs in Richmond and Les turns around to extend a hand to Katherine to help her up

Jack tries to talk to everyone at the rally after his betrayal he’s putting his hand on people’s shoulders and chests, he wraps hand around Race’s neck trying to get him to stay but Race pushes him off hard. (I mean everyone pushes him off but Race’s is personal you can tell

During Once and For All Splasher and Jack share a Big Hug