Teehee This Was Super Fun !!

race: albert's arms are my reason for living they're so big and he never covers them up so I can always see them and he's so strong he can carry me for like 30 minutes and not break a sweat-

elmer: uh race

race: what?

albert standing behind him with tears in his eyes: you really think my arms are big???

javey but jack has to stand on a stair to get to davey's eye level. javey but jack has to go on tiptoe AND pull davey down to kiss him. davey who is long and gangly who doesn't know what to do with himself when this happens. davey who trips over often bc jack is staring at him and it makes him nervous. jack with no dignity who stares openly, eyes boring into davey. race who makes fun of davey for this at every possible opportunity. davey who did NOT sign up for this ... long Davey x short but STRONG jack .... thank you for coming to my Ted talk

WIP Weather Ask Game

Inspired by the random thunderstorm that just popped up out of nowhere. Enjoy.

💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written?

❄️ Snow - Who is your coldest / most stoic character and how do they express themselves (if at all)?

🌨 Sleet - What's the most you've ever written in one sitting?

☀️ Sun - What's your favorite part of your WIP?

🌫 Fog - What was the hardest part of your WIP to write?

🌬 Wind - What was the easiest part of your WIP to write?

🌪 Tornado - Who is your most impulsive character and why?

🔥 Wildfire - Who is your most emotional character and why?

🌌 Clear Skies - How long have you been writing your current WIP?

☁️ Cloudy - What inspired you to start writing your WIP? (or in general)

⚡️Lightning - Have you ever spontaneously added something to your story that you wouldn't have added normally? If so, what made you do it?

🪹 Drought - What do you do to help with Writer's Block?

💦 Flood - How many WIPs do you have?

🏝 Hurricane - Do you often stick to one WIP and finish it, then move on, or do you bounce between WIPs?

🪨 Landslide - Which WIP has the most worldbuilding?

⛰ Earthquake - Which WIP has the least worldbuilding?

🌊 Tsunami - When and where do you like to write?

🌋 Volcanic Eruption - What's your biggest flaw as a writer?

🌈 Rainbow - What do you think makes your story unique / stand out?

🌙 Eclipse - What's the most common / reoccurring theme of your WIP(s)?

proof i am superhuman: just got my period and broke out in hives at the same time

finally kicked my art block so have some jack kelly spouting teenage boy nonsense at poor katherine as a treat ( what do you mean this isn't their post-world will know scene in a nutshell?? )

I feel like the whole “race and albert are banned in the kitchen” is just slightly off: either they will burn your kitchen down but somehow still put something on the table that is worth five michelin stars

or are both individually excellent cooks but should not be put together (which I feel like honestly counts for almost everything they do together, it’s like their rational working braincells turn off when they are together and only turn on again when they’re apart)

THIS IS ALSO JATHERINE in the are you following me scene . you understand

this is javey

crutchie n jack

SPRINTS INTO YOUR ASK BOX, doubles over panting .

javey oneshot in a storm at night, jack stays the night at davey's and they're both exhausted so emotions come to the forefront a little faster than usual .......

PLEASE . PLEASE .... I would cry ..... bee ily so much ... bonus points if jack gets a shower for the first time since Davey has met him and he's all clean and pretty ...

bee I would cry ... no pressure tho !!!! I love ur writing so much ...

(Note: I’m super sorry that this was so late, but I absolutely loved writing this! I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for requesting something! 😁)

Jack watched Davey from the doorway as the taller boy turned the next page of his book, humming softly to himself and methodically tapping the cover of the book, almost perfectly in time with the rain pummeling the ground outside.

It was darker than it should have been, thanks to the storm, but Jack didn’t mind one bit. Davey’s face looked warm and soft in the candlelight, a far cry from the expression the world usually knew, the one framed by lines of worry and tired eyes.

He seemed so peaceful that Jack felt as if he was watching a moment more private than it was, his friend’s outer shell stripped away and leaving him vulnerable.

Davey glanced up, smiling when he saw Jack in the doorway, and a blush spread across the other newsie’s face as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, feeling quite small.

“Hey, Jackie,” Davey greeted him, scooting over and patting the ground beside him, not noticing Jack’s face getting warmer as he sat down. He nodded at a small bead of water on Jack’s arm, left from where he didn’t dry it. “Feel better?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Jack replied, running a hand through his damp hair. “Thanks for lettin’ me stay, by the way.” He shot him a smile. “Means a lot.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Davey yawned softly, and Jack felt a pang of longing shoot through him, one which he tried to ignore. There’s no way he feels the same, Jack, he scolded himself.

Gaining a tiny bit of courage, Jack threw a relaxed arm around Davey, nearly nodding off in the combined warmth of both the wool coat he’d borrowed and Davey’s form next to him.

He was exhausted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this tired- maybe the strike? No matter how long it had been, Jack’s mind was in shambles.

He felt Davey shift, wrapping his arms around him, snuggling into his neck. Jack fought back the urge to kiss him right then and there, opting instead to reach over and tangle their hands together, chuckling softly as Davey glanced up at him with a lazy smile.

“You’re amazing. You know that, right?” Davey whispered, closing his eyes and leaning into Jack’s arms. “I can see why Kath likes you so much.”

“Really?” Jack asked, wondering if he’d heard him correctly. “What does that mean?”

Davey looked up at him, a peculiar look in his eyes- one that Jack had never seen before, one that told him all he needed to know. You know what it means.

Perhaps it was that look, or maybe the drunken tiredness they both felt, but Jack leaned forward and kissed him, pulling him closer. Davey’s lips were soft, just like he’d imagined, and he tasted like cinnamon and warmth. Davey smiled into the kiss, and Jack gave him a final peck before pulling back, still holding him tight.

“It’s late,” Davey muttered, laying his head on Jack’s shoulder and closing his eyes. Jack rubbed small circles into his back, his heart full to the brim with love.

“G’night, Dave,” he whispered. “Sleep well.”

From then until the sun rose, there was no sound save for the rain pattering lightly on the window, soothing the two boys to sleep in each other’s embrace.

I wrote a Jack & Crutchie story for @loiteringandlurking re: his post about Jack who is an amputee.

One-Handed

In the circulation yard, Crutchie watches the new kid with the knotted-up shirt sleeve, watches how he holds the top of his bag open with his stump and then shoves the papes in one-handed. Crutchie knows that dance; he's got two good arms himself, but one of 'em's always occupied. It ain't as easy as it looks.

Kid says his name is Jack. He's straight from a factory job -- by way of the charity hospital on Hudson Street -- and can't hawk a headline for shit, but he can tie a bootlace real tight, a hard-won skill he's clearly proud of. First, he does up the dangling lace on Crutchie's bad foot. Then he tackles the other side for good measure. Double knots on both scuffed boots. And Crutchie lets him. For once, he don't care who sees him getting help because it makes the guy so happy.

Crutchie lets Jack follow him around, too. Teaches him the ropes. Why not?

::::

August in the crowded dormitory bedroom, hot and airless. Most of the boys have stripped to their undershirts, including Jack, sprawled out on his bottom bunk. Crutchie glances quickly away from the place where his right arm ends, the scar still red and angry, and looks down at the sketch slowly developing. A nighttime scene in a desolate place, a wolf howling next to twin pine trees, mountains in the background, a crescent moon riding overhead. Jack scratches his pencil along the wolf's back. His neck flushes with frustration. He still ain't used to being a lefty.

"Looks real good," Crutchie says quietly.

Jack spits out the rubber eraser he's been holding in his teeth. It lands on his pillow and Crutchie waits for him to say something mean. But he only uses the eraser to rub at some of the smudges. "Not every day you gets to see talent like this up close, huh?"

::::

Someone sends word that Jack's old man is doing poorly, so he stops by with a carton of cigarettes he bought. The place is a tenement on Mulberry, prostitutes coming and going. Jack insists that Crutchie wait on the stoop to protect their pile of newly bought evening Worlds. He's back in less than ten minutes, looking slightly out of breath.

"If he lives so close, how come you don't stay with him?"

"Well, I used to," Jack says, though that don't answer the question at all.

"He hit ya?"

"Nah, never." Jack seems to realize he's walking too fast and slows his pace. "Sorry. I think maybe ... I think seein' me makes him feel bad. So I just don't go by there too much."

Crutchie knows exactly what Jack means, and it makes him mad. He stops in the middle of the street to call the headline to an old woman in a kerchief. Jack waits, lighting a cigarette one-handed, while Crutchie juggles his crutch to make change. "You're still a kid. Your pops should be helpin' you out. If he ain't gonna do that, the least he could do is be proud of how good you is doin'."

"He don't need to be proud. I's just livin my life," Jack says. "Not everybody's gonna understand." He slings his good arm around Crutchie's shoulders. "But I got you."

::::

Ladies like Crutchie. They always have. They want to help him; they buy his papes and sometimes they gives him food and things. But it's girls that like Jack Kelly -- girls their same age.

And Jack seems to like them back, too. He'll pick someone out special to pass the time with, take her to the music halls -- he can sell a hundred twenty papes on a good day and always burns through his money -- draw pictures for her, tell her all about the Wild West. When the boys at Duane Street tease him, Jack tells them to shut up: this is the one.

Somehow, none of them girls ever is. But when it ends, Jack don't seem too heartbroken. Nothing bothers Jack, nothing Crutchie has ever seen.

Maybe he is the wolf in the picture. Maybe he is the moon.

::::

When Jack talks about New Mexico, Crutchie can't help but worry. He's been working to support himself ever since he was eight, but he's only ever done the kind of jobs people think a cripple can do. Who says anybody would hire guys like them them for farm labor?

Jack hooks his right arm over the top rung of the fire escape ladder and reaches his hand down to take the crutch. He says, "Well, we'll show 'em, pal. We can find a way to do most anything we wants to. Can't we?" And he pulls Crutchie up behind him.

They stand together on top of the world. No mountains, no majestic pines. Just them and the buildings that crowd all around them, the landscape of the city where he was born. Life ain't fair; he's always knowed that. But in this moment, Crutchie thinks what Jack says might be true.

Because he ain't never felt sorry for Jack, not for a minute. Why would he? Maybe there is folks out there who won't feel sorry for him neither, who will see him for all that he is.

FIN.