LOOK AT THE PRECIOUS BOY BSHSHHSHSHSHJWJSJSJJSJS I LOVE HIM SO MUCH☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

RAHHHHHHH I wanna organise all my posts with tags but I DO NOT HAVE TIME!!!!!!! I am SO BUSY!!!! 3 weeks and I'm free........

'Jack's too tired to think about it.'

i don't know anybody either 😭😭 @ethereal-bumble-bee @coircus-aceman @newsies-lesamis-oz-and-me @iloverace @carmineskiesandspidereyes and anybody else who wants to! :-) sorry if u already got tagged!!

Last sentence tag game

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

Tagged by @lurkingshan and I haven't really written anything in a bit, so have a little peak at the latest entry into my always growing notes app

And in the end, heroes and villains don't matter, because only the strongest survive.

Tagging @dimplesandfierceeyes, @waitmyturtles, and @anixknowsnothin to play, no pressure of course!

“So, uh,” Jack starts hesitantly, turning to Jacobs. “I’m real sorry ‘bout all that.”

“Uh huh,” Jacobs says, looking supremely unimpressed. “Sure.”

“No, honest,” Jack insists. “It was about time someone knocked that smug look of his face. Do you, uh,” he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, not sure what to do with himself. “Do you want some ice for your hand? That was a mean left hook—“

“I am just fine,” Jacobs interrupts, his tone biting. “So feel free to spare me the All-American, Boy Scout routine. If you really want to help⁠—” the look on his face makes his opinion on the quality of Jack’s help perfectly clear, “—then you can make sure assholes like Oscar DeLancey stay the hell away from my squad. And if he comes within spitting distance of one of my girls again, I’ll have his dick in a vice.”

A razor sharp smile. “So glad we had this talk.”

And with that, he marches away.

“Oh, fuck me,” Jack murmurs to himself, utterly enraptured as he watches him go. He’s real pretty and he’s real mean: Jack’s heart is already doing loop-de-loops around his chest. “‘M so fucked.”

race: we all know my job here is to look hot.

ur first and last recent emojis are ur gender now. mine is 🅱👨‍❤‍💋‍👨

jack would absolutely devour those Chinese incense asmr videos ... like davey puts one on and jack is Gone .. he's lasered in ... razor focussed on that video ....

yippee congrats on the newsies production and welcome back to superhell!! who are you playing?

thank u I'm glad to be back!!! im playing Albert :p

love your writing! could you do some more for ralbert?

Aaaa thank you!!! I’m so sorry that this took so long, school has been beating me up lately, lol. Enjoy this little bit of rambling!

There’s a crack in the mirror in Albert and Race’s home.

Neither are quite sure how it got there- perhaps a box was dropped onto it during moving and hit the glass a bit too hard, perhaps one of them had bumped into it and just didn’t remember- but it’s been there for as long as the two of them can tell you. It was there when they signed the lease on the house, it was there when they came home one day with a shining bundle of joy in their arms, after years of waiting, and it’ll be there when the time comes to put the mirror away.

When you stand in front of it, your view of your reflection is distorted a bit where the glass has chipped. Right above your heart lies a star-shaped crack, your skin seeming fragile and broken underneath it. Both Albert and Race have looked into this mirror hundreds of times, a quick glance on the way out to run an errand or for several minutes as they laughed at the faces their kids made in it.

Their youngest barely comes up to the crack, a little puncture mark poked into his face when he passes by. He laughs when he sees it, brushing his hand just close enough to feel the groove where the mirror’s broken, smiling at his reflection.

Race has to blink tears from his eyes when he sees this, his beautiful child so happy with what he saw in that glass. Albert isn’t so lucky- he’s always been sentimental anyways. It had taken a long time for the two of them to find that, for their own reflections to not punch a hole through their heart.

Their children won’t ever have to suffer through those long years of waiting before freedom, trapped in the hopeless purgatory of no support before they finally get the courage to stand up. That mirror will never haunt them. Their names will not be a source of pain. They’ll never be afraid to be who they were- both Race and Albert had promised that long before they’d first adopted.

For now, that mirror will distort their children’s faces, hear their giggles as they stick out their tongues at the warped image. As they grow, they’ll fall into the same routine, ignoring that old crack in the glass as they fix their jacket or comb through their hair, the slight bend in light unnoticeable now. Their hearts will break, just like the glass, and be mended together again with some sort of miracle. When they leave their childhood home, that mirror will watch, still the same as ever yet having bore witness to the molding of two human beings, just as it had done before. They’ll come home for holidays and birthdays, funerals and reunions, their fingerprints left on the mirror and wiped off again, like when they were little.

Sooner rather than later, it’ll become no longer useful, and it will sit in a basement or old antique shop, slowly staining and losing its light. It will heave its final, weak breath, the memories made lost to time and decay, to all except those who lived it- those who still dream of the time spent in that house, with that mirror.

That glass may one day be broken, but those men and their family? They never will be.

albert dasilva harem anyone

crutchie who knows FAR too much about javey because every night if jack isn't at davey's house he's talking crutchie's ear off about literally EVERYTHING that happens. crutchie knows what daveys mouth tastes like and that one of his molars is chipped. crutchie knows the exact dimensions of davey's face and balls. crutchie knows. crutchie wishes he did not know because now every time he looks at Davey he cannot block the imagery.