walkin-mouth

[walkin-mouth]

abi me lebt (Javid)

Rating: T Words:1.9k Tags: Post-canon, Female Child OC, Fatherhood, WWI, Judaism Summary: Sequel to "verliebt in dich" - Takes place in 1918, 14 years later. A snapshot in the lives of 1918 Jack and Davey and their new role of being fathers.

September 1918.

“Aba! You got a letter from Uncle Les!”

Davey hardly makes it through the door when he is mobbed by the flurry of energy that is the young girl in front of him. He grins brightly at her and nods.

“That’s great, Mira. Let me set my things down and we can take a look at it.”

The little girl bounces on her heels, her shoulder length dark curls bobbing as she impatiently waits.

“How was school?” Davey asks as he sets down his bags and coat, taking a moment to unbutton his sleeves and roll them up.

“Fine, we got a new girl in class today. Her name is Shoshana, she said that she came here on a boat and I told her my Aba helps people come off boats so she probably knew you but she said she didn’t and her English isn’t that good but Ruth and I can talk to her in German which Miss Holt didn’t really like but I didn’t care because Papa always told me to help people who are sad and I think Ruth and I made her feel a lot better,” Mira says in a long stream of consciousness, hardly taking a breath.

Davey blinks and lets out a soft breath of a laugh.

“That’s very kind of you, spatzchen. I’m sure your new friend appreciated you making her feel welcome here.”

Mira excitedly hands him the letter and pulls him to the kitchen so they can sit and read the letter together.

“You don’t think we should wait for Papa to get home?” Davey questions as he sits and she jumps into his lap.

“He doesn’t get home until so much later! I want to read it now, Aba!” She whines softly her face falling into a pout.

Davey raises an eyebrow at her before she dramatically leans back into him.

“What if it’s somethin’ important we have to know NOW? Papa will understand!”

Davey rolls his eyes and carefully opens up the letter. He quickly scans over the messy scrawl, making sure everything is appropriate for the seven year old on his lap to hear. He tries not to frown as he skims over the words.

“Aba! Stop cheatin’ and read to me!” She lightly taps at Davey’s arms that surround her.

“Okay, okay. It says on the front, ‘To David Jacobs, Jack and Miriam Kelly’,” Mira wiggles happily hearing her own name, “Dear everyone, I hope things are going well back home. My unit has been moved closer to the River Somme in France. It’s been difficult but everyone’s spirits are high. There is hope that war will end soon. I can’t wait to get home and see you all. Please tell Mira that I saw the Eiffel Tower and it is even prettier in person than it is in her books. I got a picture but I don’t think it does it justice. I don’t know when this letter will get to you all so in case Yom Kippur has passed, G’mar Hatima Tova. Or if it’s early, then reread this letter on Erev. Either way, I pray for an day of reprieve so we can fast and worship in peace. Also please let Jack and Mira know that I have proudly showed everyone their artwork from the last letter that was sent. I have them hung up in the barracks to brighten the place up. I hope to see you all very soon. Yours, Les.”

Mira grins brightly as Davey reads the letter aloud to her.

“We should tell Uncle Les that Yom Kippur was a couple weeks ago and than we prayed extra for him,” Mira says in all seriousness.

“I’ll be sure to tell him that in our next letter to him,” Davey smiles sadly.

“I’m gonna draw him another picture too,” Mira decides as she jumps off his lap and runs to her room, Davey hearing her dig around in her things.

She comes back with some scrap pieces of paper and nubs of pencils that Jack gifted to the girl for her birthday months prior.

Davey gets to making dinner for them, not having the food he once had when working for the World. After working on a story about the lack of transitional help for new immigrants in the city, especially those of Jewish faith, he left his job to work on his true passion of helping others in need.

He had been a cultural and housing liaison at Ellis Island for a few years, working for the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, helping new immigrants find housing and showing them where to find houses of worship and others in their community that would help their transition into the new country.

It didn’t pay as much as being journalist, but it was genuinely a job that he felt like he was giving back to his people.

Jack had continued steelworking for nearly ten years before his age and physical limitations caught up with his still very youthful personality. A booming theatre scene in Manhattan led Jack back to his roots of art and set design, finding himself making and painting beautiful sets made to rival the moving picture shows. The job paid well, but required long hours, and with the war, more pressure was put on the workers to make better shows to keep people in the seats.

It was nearly eight at night before Jack came home. Davey having already fed himself and Mira who was already washed up in bed. Despite this, Mira was out of her room in a flash as she flung herself onto the older of the two men in the home.

Jack grinned dropping his things and picking her up into his arms.

“Why hello there, darlin’. Innit your bedtime?” He teases, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Not until you read me a story,” she counters easily with a grin.

Jack chuckles brightly as he walks into the living room with her in his arms, Davey reading by the light of a lamp.

“Papa’s home!” Mira announces, as Davey looks up with a smile.

“I can see that, spatzchen. Why don’t you fix Papa a plate for dinner and then he can tuck you in for the night?” Davey offers gently as Jack moves into the room.

As soon as Mira wiggles out of Jack’s arms and bounds into the kitchen, Jack gives him a quick chaste kiss, always trying to be intimate away from Mira’s eyes. Never wanting to burden her with keeping their secret.

The simple fact was Mira was neither their daughter. Biologically, she was David’s niece. Legally, Jack was her father. Her true parentage was his sister Sarah and a monster of a man who was to never know of Mira’s existence.

Once Sarah explained the horrors of the situation, Jack stepped in immediately. It was cover for not only him, but her as well. And to some extent, Davey.

Jack and Sarah wedded quickly, and not long after announced the pregnancy. Jack’s paternity to Mira and his constant closeness to the Jacobs’ family were never questioned. Jack, Sarah, and Davey all lived together after Mira’s birth. Sarah, nothing but supportive and understanding of the love Jack and Davey shared.

When Sarah died from pneumonia, two years after Mira was born, Jack and Davey were both thrusted into a parental role they never imagined being in.

Of course, his parents and Les were there to help. Along with several honorary uncles, still flabbergasted at the notion of THE Jack Kelly becoming a father.

So they lived together as a father and a caring uncle pseudo-father, looking after Sarah’s sweet Miriam Esther.

“Papa, it’s ready!”

“Comin’, Mira,” Jack smiles kissing Davey again before going to the kitchen.

“Papa, did Aba tell you that Uncle Les wrote us?” Mira bounces excitedly as he sits at the warmer plate of food.

“He didn’t! You know how his nose gets stuck in his books,” Jack teases as he begins to eat.

Mira excitedly recounts the letter as Davey comes into join them sitting opposite of Jack as he eats. When he finishes he picks up Mira and carries her to bed, giving her a bedtime story as she falls asleep.

Davey waits and takes the moment to gently hug Jack when he comes back in. Jack holds the taller man for a moment and buries his face in the crook of Davey’s neck. He breathes him in before sighing softly.

“So what was in the letter, you couldn’t tell’er?” Jack asks a little nervously, having recognized the look of sadness from the moment he walked in.

“Les said...that Elmer was killed…” he confides softly, telling him the parts he didn’t share with Mira.

Jack holds him tighter and curses under his breath.

“I’m going to try to get in touch with the fellas, see if we can get a little collection going for his family?” Davey mumbles into his shoulder.

“That sounds great, Dave,” Jack says softly.

“Les also said they ain’t giving Jews the same medals of recognition as everyone else. Like they can’t get a Medal of Honor or anything, because they’re Jewish.”

“‘Cos they Jewish?” He scoffs incredulously, “What does goin’ to temple or not eatin’ pork have to do with savin’ other people? This whole war is pointless and none of them care about people like us,” Jack rants angrily.

Davey gently squeezes the back of his shoulder.

“Thankfully Les is okay, we just have to keep praying that the war ends soon,” he takes a seat in their modest sofa in their living room.

Jack nods softly, having somewhat adopted some of Davey’s religious practices. Being surrounded by the Jacobs’ family meant he lived the life of someone who was Jewish.

He even was pretty fluent in German and could roughly communicate in Hebrew and Yiddish. While Mira was legally his child, he let Davey lead her parenting. She was Davey’s niece before he was her father, and he wanted Mira to fully know her family’s culture.

“It will, people can only fight over nothin’ for so long before they start gettin’ bored,” Jack sighs settling in the seat next to Davey.

Davey reaches over and takes Jack’s hand.

“Have you heard from Crutchie?” Davey asks softly.

Jack bites the inside of his lip and shakes his head.

“They’s got a quarantine sign on the lodging house now...too many of the boys got the flu. They told him to leave, save himself. He won’t leave those boys though. The nuns are still bringin’ food, which is good. I’m scared they’ll die of starvin’ before the flu,” Jack says softly.

Davey nods sadly, wanting to cry and mourn but he feels like he’s cried all the tears he can over this pandemic. He had gotten the flu himself, a few months prior. He caught it early and he was lucky that his health was good. A soft rattle in his chest and a lack of stamina were his only reminders, but he considered himself lucky.

Guys like Crutchie didn’t stand a chance and that scared them both.

“The Robels, one of the families I’m working with, their youngest son...he died yesterday night. He caught the flu and they couldn’t even get a doctor to see him…” Davey says moving closer to Jack, resting his head on his shoulder.

Jack wraps an arm around him, “I’m so sorry, Dave.”

“Abi me lebt.”

At least I’m alive.

“And so is Mira. And Les.”

“And you.”

Jack smiles a little and kisses his temple, “Yeah, me too.”

[walkin-mouth]

Ben Fankhauser singing You’ll Never Walk Alone at 54 Below with Charlie Rosen’s Broadway Big Band

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🎶 Two bros, chilling on a rooftop…five feet apart cause they’re not gay!🎶

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“Davey-”

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exclusive footage of davey jacobs falling in love.

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Hey, it’s good to have you back again. Shut up.

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verliebt in dich (Javid)

Pairing: Davey Jacobs / Jack Kelly Rating: T Words: 1.4k+ Tags: Canon era, Post-canon, roughly 1904, immigrant Davey, Judaism Warnings: Mentions of canon era anti-Semitism Summary: Jack doesn’t like people snooping in his personal business and has always granted the courtesy to others, especially Davey. But there was always this niggling part of him that just wanted to know the history of the man who profoundly changed his life for the better.

AO3 Link

Years had passed since the strike, but Davey and Jack still found themselves together on a rooftop.

It wasn’t the same rooftop of their childhood, but it was a nice roof nonetheless. It was just as private and had an arguably better look at the ever expanding New York City. One Jack was helping to create as a steelworker helping build new buildings called “skyscrapers”.

Sure paid a hell of a lot better than pushing papes.

“You came here on a boat, didn’tcha Dave? Ellis Island?” Jack asked breaking the silence, a puff of smoke coming out with the question.

Davey looked over at him and nods a little. “I don’t think Ellis Island was open yet, but yeah, I immigrated to the States on a boat.”

Jack offers him the cigarette and instinctively he shakes his head.

Even though he’s 21, a cub reporter for The World, living on his own, and his mom would have no way to know...

He still feels like his mom would somehow just know.

Jack shrugs at his decline and puffs away at the cigarette, mulling on how to ask the real question. He doesn’t like people snooping in his personal business and has always granted the courtesy to others, especially Davey. But there was always this niggling part of him that just wanted to know the history of the man who profoundly changed his life for the better.

“Why I asks is I was talkin’ to Race at work after listening to some of the other guys talkin’ about immigratin’, I bein’ one of the only City born guys there. So he was telling me how his parents had to change their last name, so they didn’t sound too Italian so they could get jobs and stuff? And I was just thinkin’ about you and your parents and if they had to do that?”

Davey pauses and then plucks the cigarette from Jack’s fingers and takes a drag, causing Jack to chuckle softly at the temptation giving in.

“Uh...yeah, we did. I was just a kid though, maybe seven or eight? Ima was pregnant with Les. She had him a couple months after we got here,” Davey says softly.

Jack hums thinking of a young Davey, picturing a gangly little thing, all limbs, tripping over himself. Not too far off from the adult Davey, to be honest.

“So what was your last name?” Jack takes another pull of the cigarette before offering back to Davey who takes it freely this time.

“Yakobovitz. And my name wasn’t David,” he says casually, smoke billowing out with the words.

Jack scoffs at him stealing the cigarette back.

“So you’re tellin’ me, you gave me all sorts of hell for tellin’ you my name ain’t really Jack Kelly, and here you are, years later, just now tellin’ me your name ain’t David Jacobs?” Jack berates him teasingly.

David smiles softly a him, knocking his knees.

“David Anshel Yakobovitz,” Davey explains, “David is pronounced Dah-veed in Hebrew, not Day-vid. And Jacobs is roughly the English translation of Yakobovitz, Yaakov is Jacob in Hebrew.”

Jack whispers out a soft “oh” and then beams even bigger.

“Dah-veed. Davey sounds closer to your real name now,” he knocks his knees back into Davey’s.

Davey shrugs with a smile and finishes off the cigarette.

“Where did you come from?” Jack questions gently.

“Germany, but Ima is from Poland originally,” Davey explains as they keep passing back and forth the cigarette.

“Was it hard learning English?”

Davey laughs softly and shakes his head.

“I knew English when I came. Papa was a college professor back in Germany. He taught us English and French. Well, on top of German, Hebrew, and some Polish,” Davey looks over at him with a warm smile.

“Y’can speak French?” Jack scrunches up his face.

“Oui, un peu,” he pinches his fingers toward each other, “I don’t remember a lot, it’s been years.”

“But you still remember German?”

Davey quickly nods.

“It’s all we usually speak at home,” he chuckles. “Just not around you, liebling.”

Jack scrunches his nose at the foreign word.

“Do I want to know what that means?”

“Probably not,” Davey teases with a wink.

Jack finishes off the cigarette and tosses it aside to smother the ember with the toe of his boot before he pops his head up with a confused look.

“Wait, if your dad was a professor, what is he doing workin’ in a crummy factory and not teaching at some fancy school?” Jack frowns at the thought.

Davey stiffens a little and shrugs.

“Just ‘cause he had a degree and stuff in Germany, don’t mean it came over here. Papa and Ima gave up everything to come here,” he says softly. “We had a real big house in Germany, it was in the middle of this big field, you coulda fit a coupla apartment blocks on the land! Sarah and I would just run around for hours, catching bugs, and Ima would show us how to press flowers. It was the greenest place in the whole world, I think.”

Jack frowns even more as he listens to Davey.

“And y’gave that all up for the concrete jungle of New York City?” His voice was incredulous.

Davey looks down and then back up at Jack.

“Jack, be honest, what do you know about Jews?’

Jack gives a half-hearted shrug.

“I don’t know? I mean, I know ya family is? It’s like goin’ t’church but different, I guess. Why’re ya askin’ me, y’know I ain’t got much goin’ on up here,” he taps his head, “and I ain’t a world traveller like some folks,” he nudges Davey playfully.

Davey rolls his eyes.

“You’re plenty smart, Jack, don’t be like that.”

“Okay, Mr. Columbia,” Jack teases in a mocking voice.

Davey takes that moment to slide his arm in the crook of Jack’s elbow, resting his head on Jack’s shoulder.

“A lot of people don’t like people like me, Jack. Especially in Germany and a lot of other places in Europe. Our people, my people, didn’t have rights for a really long time. We got rights now, but there are a lot of people that want to get rid of us, like we’re not people or something. Really bad people tried to get Papa fired from his job and the university wouldn’t. So the people threatened him. He didn’t quit. Then they hurt him and threatened us. Ima, Sarah, me. Papa sold everything he could and bought us train tickets to England, then we got on a boat to New York. We barely had anything, and Papa’s degree meant nothing. He was one of the smartest linguists in all of Europe, Jackie. He threw everything away for us. That’s why it nearly killed him when Les and I quit school, he’s sacrificed everything so we could have the life he lost. Les doesn’t even know how much our parents gave up for us.”

Jack’s heart felt like it was simultaneously swelling and falling. It was obviously hard for Davey to talk about, and it was clearly something he’s held onto in secret for years.

“Your dad is a damn good man, y’know that?” Jack says softly.

Davey nods, as a tear trails over the bridge of his nose, dripping onto Jack’s shirt.

“Aw, Dave. Hey, I didn’t mean for y’to get upset. I shouldn’tave been pryin’. C’mere,” He pulls the taller man into a strong embrace.

Davey shakes his head and wipes his face, with a soft laugh.

“No it’s okay, I’m just a big baby,” he tries to defend self-deprecatingly.

“Y’ever talk about this before, to anyone?”

Davey shakes his head.

“Never, Papa and Ima didn’t want us to talk about it in front of Les and it was always...too hard I guess. It just kind of felt like a dream, y’know? It was so long ago it doesn’t feel real anymore, like I’m telling someone else’s story. It’s like I’ve lived so many different lives all in one,” he still sniffles but is smiling now, “German, immigrant American, student, Newsie, college graduate, reporter...”

Jack smiles a little as presses a kiss onto Davey’s head through the waves of his dark hair.

“What life are y’livin’ now?” He muses softly.

Davey pulls his head up and presses a smokey kiss against Jack’s lips.

“The best one, verliebt,” Davey whispers against his lips.

“Ver what?” Jack chuckles, nuzzling his nose against Davey’s.

“Verliebt in dich. In love, Jackie. In love with you.”

[walkin-mouth]

Forever With You - Chapter 13

Previous - Next

Chapter Summary: The future isn’t so bleak after all

Words: 1333

A/N: this desk has a mind of its own i swear

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AO3 Link

[walkin-mouth]

the lover’s portrait (Javid)

Pairing: Jack Kelly / David Jacobs Rating: T Words: 1k+ Warnings: None, just domestic fluff. And tattoos? Summary: where davey sees jack for the work of art he is. inside and out.

Sunday mornings seemed to be universally disliked by most of the people Davey Jacobs knew.

It was the last day of relaxation and a bitter reminder of the impending week that lay before them.

Davey, however, was not so pessimistic. Though, he was creature of habit.

He always had a bit of a habit of waking early, even on his weekends off. So it was no surprise when he woke at the first break of light. Blinking his eyes open, he realized he was still tucked into the side of Jack who still remained blissfully asleep, his breath coming out in soft even huffs of air.

Davey smiled in pure content, pressing his face into the swirls of blue and purple on the older man’s chest.

It had become a weird little ritual of his on Sundays, it being the only day both he and Jack had off together. Jack would sleep in far later than he should, but in the meantime, Davey occupied himself by examining the tattooed flesh of his partner.

Jack had only a few small tattoos when they had first met nearly a decade earlier. He was probably far too young to have the small sparrow on his neck and COWBOY written in a terribly cliche font over the back of his shoulders, but it added to the eccentricity that was Jack Kelly.

As they got older and went through college, all of Davey’s spare money went into savings or maybe indulging in a book or two. All of Jack’s money went into his continuing art project, himself.

It started with his chest that gradually became a beautifully scenic scene right out of a classic Western novel. The colors mimicked that of a watercolor painting and over the next year the colors slowly formed a sky, mountains, and a deserted landscape that covered up to his collar bone to just above his navel.

Davey traced his fingers over the ridges of the mountains and trailed up into the sky that gradually faded into the darkness that covered the top of his right shoulder. He remembered being almost horrified at the utter darkness that encompassed his shoulder.

It was a deep rich black, none of his tanned skin peeking through in the slightest. It was stark and unforgiving. Davey remembered it being the only session Jack openly wept on him from the pain, both physically and emotionally.

The darkness represented Jack’s childhood.

It was a time in his life he had never fully divulged to Davey at that point. Davey now knew and understood the sense of hopelessness and despair young Jack overcame.

The black faded around his bicep and turned into a dark blue which eventually became an ocean of water. The color gradually got lighter and more freeing until the waves seemed to lap over the natural color of his skin.

The representation of foster care and his unbiological family he got along the way.

The water was more freeing and forgiving, but it was still scary and was still the unknown. Water had the ability to be calm and relaxing, but also dangerous and suffocating if one wasn’t too careful.

Davey always knew Jack regarded his family as the sea that carried him away from the worst.

After the waves, it was an explosion of color. A collection of brightly colored items all mishmoshed together that had no connection other than their significance to Jack. A cigar, a pair of glasses, a crutch, feathered boas, books, a typewriter, a cowboy hat, a road sign for Manhattan and one for Santa Fe. There were many others and they wrapped fully around his arms. The background between the images were bright pinks, yellows, and teals.

It was happiness. His life now and all the people who encompassed it.

The images trailed down his forearm until one tattoo remained right above his wrist.

A simple and blue Star of David.

It was the last piece to go on his arm. Davey remembered the sudden tears that overwhelmed him when Jack revealed the tattoo.

“You were the star that guided me out of the darkness for good.”

Davey smiled at the memory of the words as he rubbed his thumb over the years healed tattoo, Jack’s arm rested on his own midsection.

His other arm was a bit less put together. It included a few embarrassingly bad tattoos of Jack’s youth, including a gaudy crown and a classic punk star over his elbow. But in recent years he seemed to put things others requested.

Medda, his adoptive mother, had mentioned he should have some beauty on his body. Suggesting flowers at one point. After his next session, a myriad of wildflowers surrounded the empty space around the crown he had gotten years before.

Davey had jokingly mentioned him getting a tribute to the poet Walt Whitman, his own favorite author and poet. He had spent many nights watching Jack paint and reading poetry to him in the background.

Jack soon came home with a mossy oak tree surrounded by a bed of grass.

Live Oak with Moss.

Davey’s favorite set of poems, the ones he arguably read to Jack the most.

He was able to see the top leaves of the tree from where Jack’s arm rested against Davey’s hip.

Jack had more tattoos, some on his back, legs, and a heart on his ass that appeared after a drunken night out with his friends.

Davey felt partial to the tattoos he saw most often. Just enjoying the quiet moments like Sunday mornings when he was alone to explore every colorful part of Jack’s chests and arms.

He mindlessly traces the letters that are buried in the sky of Jack’s chest.

Ubi bene, ibi patria.

Where you feel good, there is your home.

He almost doesn’t notice when Jack’s hand gently tangles his fingers in with Davey’s.

“Y’havin’ fun there, Dave?” Jack sleepily hums out.

Davey smiles and looks up at him. He nods a little, blushing as he gets caught.

“Just enjoying all your hard work,” he answers with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jack smiles and rests his head back onto the pillows, before letting go he pulls Davey’s hand up to his lips kissing it softly.

Jack’s lips fall over the three small bands of black ink that surround Davey’s slender left ring finger.

He lets go of Davey’s hand and closes his eyes with a content look on his face.

“Enjoy away, babe,” Jack relaxes back in the bed as Davey proudly continues his Sunday morning ritual.

[walkin-mouth]

a moment of silence for the rando clarinet player who hit the wrong note at the end of the obc santa fe reprise 🙏🏼

jj is singing his lil heart out then HONK

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comedy gold

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A commission I did for @safarikalamari! They were really sweet and a great person to draw for!

Thank you very much for commissioning me!

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Forever With You - Chapter 12

Previous - Next

Chapter Summary: Tony and Spot find solace in their friends

Words: 1134

A/N: it’s the jacobs sibling appreciation chapter i guess?????

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AO3 Link

[walkin-mouth]

Spot is short but strong enough to carry his papes AND Racetrack