whizzcrwins

[whizzcrwins]

national rock day

part one of the ralbert the office au! i wrote this a few days ago and part two is already sitting on my drafts waiting to be posted, but i wanted to post this au here as well as in ao3 because Why Not.

featuring: non-binary albert! because tumblr doesn’t have any enby albert and i’m pushing this agenda.

read in ao3

There were one or two things Race could name off the top of his head that made American Textiles an unbearable workplace.

It wasn’t that he hated fabrics—that was a rather unreasonable thing to hate, and even though working where he worked had made buying new clothes a particularly annoying part of his life, what he sold wasn’t as paining as where and how.

Race knew—had always known—that an office job wasn’t his thing. It hadn’t been when he started as an intern and it didn’t became any more pleasing when he got his first official paycheck as a textile distributor salesman. It was a little bit depressing, too.

He didn’t like to think about wasted potential. It really was easier to live in oblivion of it all.

Maybe, the only truly good thing about American Textiles was Albert. And Race caught himself thinking about that very often.

Albert DaSilva was and had been for as long as Race could remember the receptionist and secretary at the New York branch of American Textiles. They were the funniest person Race knew and they weren’t happy with their job either—no one would be, having to work for Jack Kelly so directly—so they had bonded over exactly that: despising their lives as subordinates and pranking their coworkers to get through the day.

It worked. They laughed at the same things, they knew each other like best friends do.

In fact, to Race, falling in love with Albert was only a minor side effect. A bump in the road, a distraction. Or so it had been when he first saw them. Now, three years later, he had to rethink his strategy. Especially when the person in question was engaged.

A rock landed on his desk.

“What—“ He looked up. Albert, at their desk, perked an eyebrow and shrugged.

Needless to be prompted, Jack Kelly popped up into his field of vision a second later. Race didn’t know how bad it would be until he saw the look on his face.

“It’s rock day,” the man said, holding back a laugh.

He tried too hard. That was one of the two things everyone who worked for Jack Kelly knew. The other one was that he had the sense of humor of a five-year-old.

“It’s been a year?” Asked Race, contemplating the rock that rested on his desk.

January 7th was Rock Day. No one knew or cared, but Jack did. He had a fascination for fun holidays that Race couldn’t get around.

“Yes it has, Tony-Tones,” he said, clapping. No one seemed to pay him much attention until he cleared his throat. “Attention, everyone. No one has come into my office to wish me a happy rock day, but I wish it to you all. Even if you’re inconsiderate to your boss,” he stated before laughing at his own so-called joke.

Race took a long breath in and out. He looked at Albert, who was looking back, and shrugged in resignation.

Next to him, someone stood up like a lighting bolt. And there it was—the missing part of their morning routine.

“Happy rock day, Jack,” exclaimed American Textiles’ most recent acquisition of an intern, Lester Jacobs. He was sixteen years old and already both as tall and more talented at shoving fabric down people’s throats than Race had ever been in his whole career.

He rolled his eyes and caught Albert laughing at him quietly.

“Thank you, Les,” nodded the man before turning on his heels and heading back into his office.

It was ten thirty in the morning, which meant only one thing. Race could either do something or start to go crazy slowly and painfully. He saw his boss walk away as Les took a seat in the desk next to his and immediately turned to Albert with plead in his eyes.

Albert nodded.

“I’m going insane,” he said, shutting the kitchen door behind him as Albert sat on the counter, shook their and laughed.

“This is the earliest you’ve cracked,” they said. “But he deserves it, so I support you.”

“Thanks for your approval,” he mocked. Albert stuck their tongue out. “Problem is, I’m out of ideas.”

A gasp. “The Antonio Higgins doesn’t have any pranks left?”

Race bit his lip not to smile. He feigned annoyance. “Dry as a bone. Help,” he begged.

Albert thought for a second, humming with their lips pursed. Their legs bounced slightly against the wooden counter cabinets. After a minute, they shrugged again. They did it quite often, Race noted.

“How mean do you want it to be?”

“It’s not mean, just—“

“Tony,” Albert looked at them.

Race lifted his hands. “Alright, um—Just regular dose of mean-ness.”

A beat. “First, that’s not a word, and second…”

They smiled. Race smiled back.

Les deserved it, for the most part. He was well aware of his status as a prodigy salesman and at the naive age of sixteen he had decided that it was worth being smug about. He was proud of himself and his severely underpaid job, as much as he was a suck-up to Jack, to Corporate, and to anyone but Race. The hatred was mutual. So Les deserved most of what he got, and what he didn’t deserve, Race knew he’d find a way to earn sooner or later.

The way down to the warehouse was one that Race knew well from his many times escaping his responsibilities. Or Jack.

“Hey, babe,” Albert smiled as they curled both arms around the neck of their fiancé. Race didn’t know where to look while they kissed.

Oscar Delancey was both Albert’s soon-to-be husband and the head of the warehouse. He was a nice man. He was funny, or so Albert mentioned every now and then. To Race, Oscar was… tall. He was one tall man.

“What’re you doing down here?” Asked Oscar once the kiss was broken.

“We need tools,” Albert said. Race nodded, standing at a safe distance. “Vending machine tools.”

“What?”

Albert smiled an innocent smile. “We just want to study our vending machine—“

“See how it works—“ Added Race.

“Yeah, exactly,” Albert nodded. “So, can we borrow some of those?”

Oscar squinted, looking between Albert and Race, and nodded cautiously. “Sure.”

At that, Albert grinned and kissed their fiancé’s cheek before untangling themself from him. Oscar was turning towards his toolbox when he spoke again, over his shoulder.

He didn’t have the smartest mouth.

“Be careful, though. Not marrying a jobless person.”

Albert faltered slightly. Race caught them quickly pulling themself up and shrugging in a dismissive way, taking the toolbox and glancing at him before turning to make their way back.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re marrying me, anyway,” they said when they were out of earshot.

Race knew better than to bring it up, after years. And it really had been years—he was barely finishing his first year as a salesman when Oscar proposed to Albert as they were making their way out and into their cars. He’d been there to see the whole thing.

Two years had passed.

It wasn’t worth any mention, because Race knew it was out of line to offer support about something he didn’t know anything about. Besides, Albert was very good at pretending to be fine.

They could either dwell on the uncomfortable silence that had fell upon them or laugh it off.

“This is one of your best ideas,” Race said.

“Well,” Albert said, carefully working themself around the screws of the vending machine in the break room. “We’ll have to wait and see. But, yeah, I’m a genius.”

Race had an arm inside the machine when someone walked in. Albert stood up just too fast to play it cool.

Charlie Morris frowned at the sight.

“What’s going on?” She asked. Albert shrugged, waving their arms around mindlessly.

“Nothing—much,” they said. Race removed himself from the insides of the vending machine and nodded.

“Monthly inspection,” he said casually.

“Isn’t a guy supposed to come in and do that?”

Race crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m a guy,” he defended. Charlie perked an eyebrow.

“Okay,” she said, turning around and walking away slowly.

Only when she was completely out of the room did they both exhale at unison. Albert ran a hand through their hair and Race laughed.

“She almost caught us,” he said.

Albert waved him off, handing him the last crucial piece of their procedure. “It’s Charlie. What’s she gonna do? Tell Jack? Tell Les?”

“Well,” Race said. “Yeah.”

He slid away from the machine and up to Albert’s side. They looked at their done masterpiece and then at each other, spark of pride in their eyes. Then, exactly ten minutes before their lunch break, they went back to work.

Les came back from a sale to find his desk deserted. He then followed the sound of Charlie Morris’ laughter into the break room, where she was shaking her head at the view.

The boy had the option to come out fuming or pouting. It was funnier when he did both.

“Jack,” he cried out as he walked out of the room and into the manager’s office. “They put my stuff in the vending machine!”

“What?”

“My things. They’re inside the vending machine.”

“That’s hilarious.”

Les turned to Race. “How am I gonna get them back?”

He looked at him and shrugged. “You gotta pay, little one.”

As he scrambled for his wallet in frustration and stormed off, Race and Albert looked at each other from their desks and motioned a high-five.

It was a good day.

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must a story have “plot”

is it not enough that I just, like, care about the characters a whole bunch

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newsies as shane madej

race:

elmer

jack:

davey:

katherine:

smalls:

spot:

albert:

crutchie:

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my ralbert fics (masterpost?)

i’ve never shared my fics on tumblr before but the ralbert tag is a bit of a fixer-upper right now so... here

you ever wonder what would happen?

words: 2.531 warnings: não tags: canon era, pining, childhood friends to lovers (it’s ralbert, so), character study (the way albert’s mind works!), autistic albert summary: “the painfully overdone falling-in-love-with-your-best-friend story, from albert dasilva’s perspective.“ link to ao3

a cookie and a glass of milk

words: 1.423 warnings: race has a nightmare, but it’s soft tags: modern era, pianist albert, hurt/comfort, established relationship, hoh albert summary: “race wakes up from a nightmare.” link to ao3

how does the sun even fit in the sky? UNFINISHED

words: 3.836 (two chapters) warnings: no? tags: hogwarts au, enemies to lovers, everyone is a hufflepuff because i do what i want when i want to do it summary: “albert dasilva’s fifth year in hogwarts should go as planned: without any obstacles, without any bumps, without any resurfacing enemies. one can only dream.” link to ao3

rain keeps falling (down down down)

words: 1.020 warnings: nope tags: canon era, non-binary albert (expect a lot of that), Yearning, hand holding summary: “race and albert sell together.” link to ao3

so lovely, goddamn pretty

words: 4.122 warnings: a whole fucking lot of pining tags: canon era + canon compliant, friends with benefits, Pining summary: “kisses and unfortunate misunderstandings shortly after the children’s crusade.” link to ao3

how many soap bars does mary need?

words: 1.352 warnings: SOFT KIDS tags: kid fic (fourth grade), non-binary albert, autistic albert, race has adhd summary: “math is hard. being a fourth grader is hard.” link to ao3 NOTE: I LOVE THIS FIC. I LOVE THIS FIC. I LOVE THIS FIC

don’t throw away your shot

words: 2.171 warnings: none this fic is amazing tags: LASER TAG!!, modern era (obviously), non-binary albert, That one laser tag prompt, best friends to lovers summary: “for race’s seventeenth birthday, albert outdoes themselves. race isn’t necessarily pleased.” link to ao3

twenty amazing facts you didn’t know about cacti

words: 2.428 warnings: none!! my best fic tags: modern era, filmmaker!race, non-binary albert, autistic albert, race has adhd, cacti!, first kiss, best friends to lovers, medda adopted jack and race summary: “race has a great idea, and who is he if he doesn’t drag albert down with it.” link to ao3

those are my babies and i love them and i have so many wips but writers live off of feedback and in this fandom it’s kind of non-existent so if you wanna read and leave a comment i’d love you forever and probably write even more because i love them so so so so so much okay bye

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ok i don’t get dance lingo what’s second postition

sorry this took so long to respond to! i couldn't find what i was looking for on google images to i had to take the pictures myself :/

anyway though, second position is a ballet position that looks like this:

usually its a little wider but i didn't really have the space 

theres also second position turned in (which is used in virtually every kind of dance ever):

but when we were talking to second position in relation to sky we were talking about a second position plié, which is when you're in second position and you bend your knees. what determines a “good” second from a “bad” second is 1. how deep it is and 2. how long you can stay there, both of which depend on muscle strength and endurance cause it takes a lot of control to dance with your knees bent for long periods of time. 

second position plié can be either turned in or turned out:

^^ turned out (ignore my hands i didn't know what to do with them) 

^^ turned in (this one is more like a squat) 

so when sky dances he spends a lot of time hanging out in this very low second which is Crazy cause that takes a lot of strength and control and all of that. a lot of people will use this position while they are dancing and on the transitions will usually straighten their legs (ben does this pretty often) but sky keeps his knees bent, which makes his dancing come across as very grounded (because of how close to the ground he is) and makes him seem very in control. 

here's an example of skys second position:

see how hes like a whole foot lower than ben? thats cause of how bent his knees are

then if you notice he always has his knees bent in the transitions where ben doesnt:

bens legs are almost straight and skys are in almost a lunge

even when theyre standing up skys knees are still bent. 

im not in any way saying that skys style is Better than bens cause theyre both fantastic dancers, im just showing what makes them different.

also if you watch this video its a great example of how much sky uses his plié because for most of it hes at least like a foot lower than everyone else (hes the one with the hat on and the tank top in the front row)

hope this helps !!

okay to rb btw !!!

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newsies! 

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Okay so, here's a part 2 (kinda) of that other thing I'll learn how to link

It's not necessary to have read it but since it's really short I'd suggest giving it a go.

This is Ralbert, non explicitly romantic but you could read it as such. It's been a year since Race's little Refuge vacation and Albert's a little overprotective.

*

"please put me down it's just a sprained ankle"

"Nuh uh"

"Aaaaaaaaaaalbert put me down!"

Albert did not put him down. He adjusted his grip around Race's calves and kept walking the few blocks towards the Lodge with him sprawled on top of his shoulder.

"If I put you down you's just gonna put your whole weight on it jus' to prove me wrong"

"Wouldn't!"

"Yes you would"

"... maybe. But I promise I won't! Listen I can't let the other kids see me like this Al! They need ta respect me!"

A series of images rapidly flashed behind Albert's eyes.

Race tripping on his feet and falling face first into a puddle.

Race hanging upside down from the top bunk.

Race covered in bread crumbs and chased by a flock of geese.

"Yeah I don't think that's gonna be a problem"

"Oh c'mon I don't need ta be carried around like a doll! I can walk damn well myself"

Another memory popped up, one that Albert would have rather forgotten but never seemed to fade, no matter how much time had passed. A memory that left him tense and on edge, like his whole world was riding on his shoulders.

He grew quiet.

"Al?"

"Albert?"

"For God's sake Alb..."

"I don't like it when yer hurt"

"Yeah no shit I don't like it either! But I'm fine, I promise... "

It had been almost a year since Race had gotten out of his first and hopefully only stay at the Refuge. A lot of stuff had happened in that year, both good and bad. Many older newsies had left and others had taken their place. Jack had come back and was on his way to become their new leader, with Race preparing to step in as his second in command. Albert still lived with his father but most of his time was spent at the Lodge with his friends, keeping the little ones in check and occasionally teaming up with other kids (most notably Race and Romeo) to drive Jack and the others mad with some prank.

All in all, things had been smooth sailing for a while.

Of course, one does not simply forget an experience like a whole winter in the refuge, but Racetrack Higgins was doing his very best to pretend it didn't ever happen, please and thank you. He never talked about it, never thought about it and if he occasionally skipped sleeping all together cause he couldn't bear to close his eyes for fear of never opening them again, well nobody needed to know. This plan worked fairly well most of the time, but there were certain factors that could disturb it significantly.

Namely, Albert.

The both of them took care of one another, that's how it had always been, but since the Refuge the redhead protectiveness had taken a brooding edge that hadn't been there before. Whenever Race got hurt, he'd make sure his friend was okay, throw a couple punches where necessary, and then spend the rest of the day checking on him like he was waiting for the blonde to break in a million little pieces.

That was very counterproductive, in Race's opinion. How could he pretend nothing ever happened if his friend kept trying to remind him? He was growing restless.

Though his voice sounded light and airy as usual, Albert was tense, his grip on Race tight.

"Just wanna make sure we get to the Lodge without you gettin' even more hurt, that's all"

"...yes, I know that. And I know you want to do that cause ya care about me or whatever... But I swear to God if ya don't put me down right this moment I'm gonna start moving so bad yer gonna drop me and I thinks you'd rather avoid that uh?"

"You ain't playing fair Higgins, I'd throw you on the ground myself if ya wasn't injured already..."

"But I am and you're not gonna do that cause ya love me too much ain't I right, DaSilva?"

"...go to Hell".

"Yeah, you know what? they call it the Refuge nowadays, been there done that, wouldn't recommend, but I got out almost a year ago so would you please, pleeaaase stop treating me like I'm made of glass!?"

As soon as this words left his mouth, Race knew something was off.

Albert stopped abruptly. He carefully put his friend down and turned to face him.

His eyes, locked in his Race's, were set in a hard stare, but the corner of his mouth trembled lightly. He just stood there for a little while, trying to find the voice his best friend just knocked out of him.

"It was my fault"

"What...?"

"That you got taken. By the bulls. I ran. Should've stayed with you. Don't want it to happen again."

With a shrug, he averted his eyes.

Race was petrified. He didn't understand. Albert was the one who took care of him. The one who held him when he dared let himself cry. The one who followed him around for a whole month selling the last papes he was too tired to sell. He was the one that supported him all along the way, the one that helped him find the strength to start feeling alright again.

"What the hell? Of course you ran Al or they would've caught ya too, they was damn fast! Have... Have you been blaming yourself this whole time?"

Race's hands gently cupped his friend's face, turning it towards him, but Albert still refused to meet his eyes.

"I thought you would die. I was scared."

"Albert, look at me."

When his watery eyes finally met his friend's blue ones, Race was softly smiling. In his eyes a silent plea for Albert to understand all the things he didn't know how to say.

"I was scared too. Fuck I am still. So damn scared. And I thought I could jus' forget about it but I can't and sometimes it drives me crazy. But... I know I'm safe now. I'm okay. When I saw ya comin' ta get me...I knew I'd be alright. You took good care of me. You always do. 's thanks to you if I'm alive. Okay?"

"... You're unbelievable."

Albert took in a shuddering breath. He couldn't really believe what his friend was telling him, couldn't shake the feeling he should've done more, should've been right by his side all those months in the Refuge. Race had been suffering alone for most of it and Albert couldn't forgive himself for letting that happen. But Race didn't blame him. Race told him he did good. He took care of him. And that's all Albert needed to hear.

"...okay"

"Good. Now..." Race swiftly and as gracefully as he could hopping on one leg, flung himself on Albert's back, locking his scrawny arms around his neck "... To the Lodge, my noble steed!"

[whizzcrwins]

bee boop 🤖🤖🤖 a little campaign if you’re a rich reader.

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can’t i just stay in bed all day and read about canon era race and albert being dumbasses ???

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Mmmmmmmh I wrote a thing.

It's my first fic, ever, so I hope it's fine♥️

It's about Race getting out of the refuge and Albert coming to get him.

It's written as platonic but could be read as romantic too. H/C

***

Albert found him seated on the sidewalk. Back to the wall, eyes to the ground.

His small figure was shaking in the early spring breeze, fingers holding onto his knees so tightly they turned white.

Albert called his name twice but he never seemed to hear it.

So he sat besides him and waited.

After a while, Race moved.

His eyes never left the tips of his boots, but slowly, so slowly you'd only see it if you were paying attention, he let his weight shift slightly towards the other boy. He didn't get close enough to touch, didn't let his tightly coiled muscles relax. He almost held his breath, almost closed his eyes, as if he was waiting for the world to slap him in the face, for the sharp pain of rejection to remind him nothing could ever be as it was.

Instead he got soft pressure on his side, an arm on his back, fingers in his hair. He got to burrow his nose in the crook of a shoulder, to bury his shaking hands in the rough fabric of a shirt.

Enveloped in his friend's embrace, Race tentatively let himself feel again. The slow stroking of a thumb behind his ear. The warmth of a breath on the top of his head. The rhythmic pounding of a heart.

Albert. He was with Albert and Albert would never let anything bad happen to him. He'd bring him home, and he'd be safe.

Race finally let a sob escape his lips, and after that another, and another. The arms around him tightened slightly as he went lax against his friend's chest. A soft string of reassurances filled his ears, telling him he was safe, he'd be okay.

Lulled by Albert's familiar voice, he let his exhaustion win and drifted off to sleep.

*

Race had grown thinner. That was the first thought that crossed Albert's mind as he locked one arm under his friend's armpits and hoisted him up on his back.

He wasn't stupid, he knew very well what happened to kids in the Refuge, but he had hoped against all hopes that Race would come out of that hellhole fine and jumping around as usual. Or at least walking on his own two legs.

He certainly wouldn't have imagined the still, silent ghost of a kid he was currently carrying like the world's most valuable backpack.

It was horrible, to see him like this. So broken, so afraid. Whatever happened in there, it had carved a piece of his friend out and filled the void with fear.

Albert felt like screaming. Felt like punching a wall till his skin broke. Like he wanted to go back, kick the door of that damned prison in and fight everyone and anyone that dared cross his path, free all the other kids still trapped in that nightmare and finally break every bone of that monster that called himself the Refuge's warden.

Instead, he forced his mind to go blank.

He needed a list, a plan, some sort of order of actions. If he had a list, he knew what to do. If he knew exactly what to do, he could help. If he helped, he wouldn't feel so damn powerless.

One. He needed to get Race to the Lodge, the older kids would know what to do to then.

Two. He needed to stay with him. Jack was still locked up so Race would need him once he woke. The other kids would take good care of him, but no one knew him quite as well as Albert did.

Three. He'd probably need to spend the night at the lodging house. That would need to be reported to his father, and would certainly earn him a beating.

Albert chose to discard the third point and focused on counting his steps instead.

[whizzcrwins]

[whizzcrwins]

Race: Welcome to radio sh-ack! Ack! Ack

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Davey: Since I’ll be gone for a while, I’ve left you all a complimentary bowl of advice.

Davey: *picks out a piece of paper* For example, “Race, stop doing that,” just applies to everything.

[whizzcrwins]

in my fucking ralbert feelings tonight!!!! literally it’s the two of them against the rest of the world and that’s what it’s all about! catching each other’s eyes from across a room and bursting into laughter that no one else understands!! sharing food and money and clothes because if they don’t look out for each other who else will??? arguing with each other over petty shit but instantly backing the other up if anyone else gets involved!! they are best friends and soulmates and that’s it thanks for coming to my tedtalk

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if i ever scroll past this and don’t reblog please kill me for i have already died inside

Sky Flaherty

Reblog if you agree

[whizzcrwins]

Sky Flaherty

Reblog if you agree