Santa Fe from Jeremy Jordan’s final performance of Newsies (September 4th, 2012.)
my son
everyone needs to listen to this

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@totallycanonbroadway
Santa Fe from Jeremy Jordan’s final performance of Newsies (September 4th, 2012.)
my son
everyone needs to listen to this
Synonyms For Very
This masterlist is a masterlist of words that you may use alongside the word very, very being one of the most common words that are used when writing. I hope this helps you as much as it helps me in our writing seem more sophisticated and unique.
A:
Very accurate - exact Very afraid - fearful Very angry - furious Very annoying - exasperating
B:
Very bad - atrocious Very beautiful - exquisite Very big - immense Very boring - dull Very bright - luminous Very busy - swamped
C:
Very calm - serene Very careful - cautious Very cheap - stingy Very clean - spotless Very clear - obvious Very clever - intelligent Very cold - freezing Very colourful - vibrant Very competitive - cutthroat Very complete - comprehensive Very confused - perplexed Very conventional - conservative Very creative - innovative Very crowded - bustling Very cute - adorable
D:
Very dangerous - perilous Very dear - cherished Very deep - profound Very depressed - despondent Very detailed - meticulous Very different - disparate Very difficult - arduous Very dirty - filthy Very dry - arid Very dull - tedious
E:
Very eager - keen Very easy - effortless Very empty - desolate Very excited - thrilled Very exciting - exhilarating Very expensive - costly
F:
Very fancy - lavish Very fast - swift Very fat - obese Very friendly - amiable Very frightened - alarmed Very frightening - terrifying Very funny - hilarious
G:
Very glad - overjoyed Very good - excellent Very great - terrific
H:
Very happy - ecstatic Very hard - difficult Very hard-to-find - rare Very heavy - leaden Very high - soaring Very hot - sweltering Very huge - colossal Very hungry - ravenous Very hurt - battered
I:
Very important - crucial Very intelligent - brilliant Very interesting - captivating
J:
K:
L:
Very large - huge Very lazy - indolent Very little - tiny Very lively - vivacious Very long - extensive Very long-term - enduring Very loose - slack Very loud - thunderous Very loved - adored
M:
Very mean - cruel Very messy - slovenly
N:
Very neat - immaculate Very necessary - essential Very nervous - apprehensive Very nice - kind Very noisy - deafening
O:
Very often - frequently Very old - ancient Very old-fashioned - archaic Very open - transparent
P:
Very painful - excruciating Very pale - ashen Very perfect - flawless Very poor - destitute Very powerful - compelling Very pretty - beautiful
Q:
Very quick - rapid Very quiet - hushed
R:
Very rainy - pouring Very rich - wealthy
S:
Very sad - sorrowful Very scared - petrified Very scary - chilling Very serious - grave Very sharp - keen Very shiny - gleaming Very short - brief Very shy - timid Very simple - basic Very skinny - skeletal Very slow - sluggish Very small - petite Very smart - intelligent Very smelly - pungent Very smooth - sleek Very soft - downy Very sorry - apologetic Very special - exceptional Very strong - forceful Very stupid - idiotic Very sure - certain Very sweet - thoughtful
T:
Very talented - gifted Very tall - towering Very tasty - delicious Very thirsty - parched Very tight - constricting Very tiny - minuscule Very tired - exhausted
U:
Very ugly - hideous Very unhappy - miserable Very upset - distraught
V:
W:
Very warm - hot Very weak - frail Very well-to-do - wealthy Very wet - soaked Very wide - expansive Very willing - eager Very windy - blustery Very wise - sage Very worried - distressed
X:
Y:
Z:
A/N: If you know of anymore words I can add please message me.
This is very important ;)
Reblog to save a writer’s life.
i’ve been saved
Reblog if you write fanfic and would be totally down with your followers coming into you askbox and talking to you about your fic
Hidden Artists
After the horror of what was in my inbox, I needed some comfort. I’ll take that comfort in the form of modern AU Javey fluff <3
Warning(s): gun mention
Word Count: 808
“So what exactly is in those notebooks that you carry around?”
Jack smiled at Davey and squeezed his hand. “Well, a bit of this, a bit of that...”
Davey could tell that he had caught his boyfriend off guard. “A bit of this and a bit of that is why you always have one on you?” he pressed before licking his lips nervously.
Jack paused a moment, clearly thinking. He kissed Davey’s forehead absentmindedly before responding. “Alright, alright. You can look in my notebooks. I’ll pull all of them out. Just...I don’t wanna be here when you do, alright?”
This made the taller boy’s heart beat faster. “Jack, you don’t h-”
“I want to.” Jack stood up and went to his room. About thirty seconds later he came back with a box filled with three notebooks. “These are in order, oldest in the back, newest at the front. Except, obviously, that one on the table.” The strike leader stood awkwardly for a few moments, looking as if he wanted to say something, before changing his mind. “Ay, Davey, go to our coffee shop when you’re done. I’ll be waiting there.” Without giving his boyfriend a chance to respond, he quickly left his apartment.
Davey looked at the box in silence for a couple of minutes, not sure what to think. Jack was acting very suspiciously, which made Davey wonder if these notebooks would be a dream or a nightmare. He eventually pulled himself from the comfort of thinking on the couch and into the risk of the strange box.
The first notebook that Davey pulled out was the oldest one. The cover was faded and the binding falling apart. Graphite smudged the outside of all of the pages. He opened the book, shocked by what he saw. It was a drawing of a man who he didn’t quite know but had the same nose as his beloved boyfriend. He began flipping through the pages, marveling at each new thing he saw. Close up flowers, the skyline, entire landscapes, and more images of who Davey was beginning to think was his father littered the notebook.
The next notebook was instantly different. The very first image was unmistakably Snyder, pointing his gun directly at the viewer. Jack’s drawing style had progressed from childishly curvy lines to scared, angular marks making an entire image. This notebook was filled with the horrors of The Refuge, and it made Davey get up and pace while looking through it because the images were so horrifying.
The third notebook opened on an image of Crutchie. He was laughing. This notebook was filled with the newsboys, ranging in emotions from pride to hatred to sadness to exuberance. In the middle, there were a lot of drawings of Katherine, which Davey figured had been from when they dated. He stopped dead when he got to the last page of this notebook. It was an image of him watching Meda perform. Although Miss Meda was singing in the foreground, it was obvious that Davey was the center of attention. He shook his head in wonderment, wondering if the elegance he saw on the page was really how Jack saw him.
Despite feeling like his heart was about to explode, Davey went to the notebook that rested on the coffee table and opened it up. Inside were portraits of all kinds, but unlike the rest of the books, they all centered around one thing: him. He saw himself laughing, crying, dancing, sleeping, reading, and even rolling his eyes. All of them had a painstaking about of detail.
Shaking, Davey raced downstairs and across the street to the coffee shop that he and Jack had coined as theirs. He went blindly to their booth and sat down next to his boyfriend, who set down his water. “Davey, you okay?”
“You didn’t tell me that you could draw.” Davey had tears in his eyes as he put the notebook on the table.
“And you didn’t tell me you could write,” Jack replied nonchalantly, sliding the notebook closer to him.
Davey blushed a deep red. “Wh-how-”
“I pretend to be asleep so that you’ll read what you wrote to me,” Jack confessed, smiling sheepishly. “Before you try to explain yourself, let me tell you this: I never knew love like this before you, either.”
Davey had no words left, so he threw his arms around Jack’s shoulders. “I treasure you more than anything else in the world.”
Jack returned the hug and pulled Davey in closer. “I would turn away the entire world for you. You’re my muse.”
With a snort, Davey pulled away. After taking a deep breath, he tried to pretend that this was just a normal date. “Why are you just drinking water?”
Jack looked down, feeling his ears warm up. “I forgot my wallet at home.”
“Oh, Jack...”
I want davey to be my master and step on me with his big feet uwu owo
Davey being a master?? Hella hot, definitely one of his kinks. Stepping on people?????? With his “big feet”????????????????????
I...I’m out of words and need comfort
Am I the only person who wants the sweat from jacks feet like,, bottled? I wanna drink it
I love Jack Kelly with all of my heart but please I can’t
I bet Romeo has super crusty feet mmmmm 💦💦
I’m really not kinkshaming but umm why
Does race suck toes???! 😍😍 omg
please tell me it’s not serious
Albert licking readers feet minific?
I...I...
The amount of feet requests in my inbox tells this must be a joke
Welcome Home
Based loosely on Crutchie’s headcanon found here. You don’t have to read that for this to make sense, though
Kind of fluffy, kind of angsty mini fic
Warnings: loss of mother, death, crying,
Word count: 344
The walk to The Lodge had never felt longer. Crutchie’s good leg felt just as useless as his crippled one. The mood of his surroundings didn’t match his feelings. The street was busy, filled with people filing in and out of shops. Above, a few stars began to shine as the sun went to rest behind the distant horizon. Usually, this would be Crutchie’s favorite time. He would sit on a bench and watch the people around him, making up stories about what they were doing, their personality, and even their entire life.
Tonight, though, it was too much. He took a turn away from the bustle of the main road and into the quiet of an alley.
“Oh, doll, I’m so sorry...”
Crutchie swallowed and tried to remember how long it had been since he joined the newsboys. He remembered starting to sell papes to help his mother. She worked long hours at the hospital and they were still barely scraping by. The little bit of extra helped them keep their apartment. The apartment he would never go back to.
The boy leaned against the cold wall to his right, struggling to maintain his breathing.
“She struggled until the end...”
“My mother is dead,” Crutchie whispered, tears blurring his vision. “My mum, the one who tried her best, stuck by me, even when my leg quit, even when my dad died...” He slid down the wall until he was sitting, hunched over, sobbing into his knees. “She left me...”
“Crutchie?” a familiar voice called, clearly close. “God, Crutchie...”
The small boy didn’t even look up when Jack picked him up. “She-”
“Shh,” Jack hushed, carrying his friend down the alley and towards The Lodge. “You don’t gotta say anythin’. You’re one of us, Crutchie, so you know damn well that I’m gonna take you home for some much-needed rest.”
Crutchie leaned his head against Jack’s chest, struggling to keep his breathing calm. “Th-thank you, Jack.”
Jack kept his gaze forward, his lips set in a stern line. “Anytime,” he murmured, tightening his hold.
Can you do a mini fic off one of those Parential HCS?
Hi anon!! I actually would love to. If I like this enough I might write a mini fic for all of them?? Just because I love angst oops. This is based on Jack’s headcanons on this post
Dad…?
Warnings: a gun, stealing, arrest
Word count: 379
The bridge. That’s where they always met back up after a burglary. Jack leaned against the rails, struggling not to give up and go home because of the cold. He hung his head, knowing that today had almost become a disaster because of him.
“Ya tried,” called a voice that he recognized. Jack spun around, surprised that he hadn’t heard his father’s footsteps. “We got lucky. Remember that.”
Jack nodded, his chest heavy. “I’m sorry, dad.”
His dad put a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, the rain in your hair made you look young. We’ll remember that next time. You’ve gots to get better at flirtin’, though, for this to work. Smile wide, but keep your eyes trained on her body. It makes a woman go crazy.”
The teen nodded, taking in the information. He shuddered, remembering their earlier experience at the fruit vendor.
“G’afternoon, ma’am.” A smirk and a head tilt.
“How can I help you?” Distracted.
“Hows about you tell me about these fruits you have?” A glance at the vendor that results in shock when she’s glaring.
“You’re a child. Not only a child, an obviously poor one.” Anger.
“Ah, now that hurts.” Hand over heart accompanied by a playful smile.
“Get out.” Not impressed.
“Or what?” Ballsy? Definitely, but he couldn’t leave yet.
“Get out or I’ll call the police.” Cold eyes.
He left with his hands in his pockets and tried to whistle his nerves away.
“Go home,” his dad ordered, startling Jack from his memory. “I’ll be there soon.”
Jack followed his orders and went back to their small apartment that was actually just the loft of an old man’s home. He curled up under the blankets and stared at the sky until his brain drifted into sleep.
Footsteps woke the sleeping teen. He quickly stood up from the bed and looked towards the stairs, ready to thank his father for whatever he managed to bring home. He was instead greeted by the face of a strange man holding a gun.
“Your father has been arrested,” Snyder sneered. “So you’re coming to The Refuge.”
Jack didn’t have anywhere to run and was forced to go with them, swallowing down his fear. He would escape. And when he did, he would never go back.
feet
Okay I think that this is in response to that thing I posted that was like “make me blush I dare you” because otherwise I’m confused and a little bit unsettled
ANONYMOUSLY MAKE ME BLUSH
Go ahead. Do your worst.
this is either gonna be a terrible decision on my part or nothing’s gonna happen haha
Let’s see what you can do
The Newsies and Parental Relationships
Angst ahead
Warnings: Loss of a parent, blood mention, death, illness, abuse, alcohol addiction, pregnancy complications
Jack: Jack’s parents were obviously very poor. It was because of this that they had to have a home birth. Everything seemed fine until his mother wouldn’t stop bleeding. As Jack slept in the room over, his father held his mother’s hand as she slowly faded away, the color draining from her skin. When he found out, he felt responsible. His father did whatever he could to support the growing boy. He soon had to resort to stealing food to feed his son and money to buy him new clothes. This ended up getting him locked up in the state penitentiary and Jack in the Refuge.
Davey: Both of Davey’s parents work to support the large family. His mother works in a textile factory. She coughs a lot because of constant exposure to airborne lint. When possible, Davey tries to take over for his mother in household activities because he really does love his mother. She tells him about how the world is but encourages dreaming in him, even when her eyes are exhausted. His dad worked in a steel making factory. Davey and his dad have had a hard time connecting as he’s gotten older because there is a large gap in knowledge and a difference in values is showing. They have their sweet moments together, though, especially when one is physically taking care of the other.
Crutchie: (Umm friendly reminder that this boy is literally only fifteen years old) Crutchie’s father had always been a little bit unstable. When he found out that his son had lost the use of his leg, that was it. He was never seen again. It was especially difficult for his mother, but she applied for a job as a nurse and ended up getting it. This kept her and her son in a comfortable situation, assuming that they didn’t overdo it. One night, instead of his mom coming home, one of her coworkers came home instead. “Honey,” she said to him as she briskly put a small cup of soup on the table in front of him, “your mama is sick. You gotta stay here because we can’t have you getting infected too.” She patted his back, smiling sympathetically. “Now, I have to head back to the hospital. I’ll come back tomorrow to update you.” When she left, he cried. The next day, when the strange nurse came in, she was much more solemn. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her heart breaking at the sight of the small, vulnerable boy in front of her. He had already been selling papers at this point and went to The Lodge, trying his best to pretend that his heart hadn’t been ripped out.
Race: Race doesn’t know who his father is. When he asked his mom about the first time, she just told him it didn’t matter. The second time she asked, she told him to fuck off and never ask again. His mom didn’t drink much when he was young, but as he got older and harder to take care of, she started spending their money on booze instead of food. She forced Race to start selling papers to pay for it. One day he didn’t want to go home and decided to spend one night in The Lodge. That one night turned to two to a week until Jack told him that he might as well stay forever.
Albert: Albert, his two brothers, and his father all live in one house together. His mother died of pneumonia when he was old enough to know what was happening but too young to be broken by it. His father has always leaned towards violence. It is very clear how much money he has to bring home, or there are consequences. Sometimes it comes from nowhere, either yelling or physical abuse. There’ve been plenty of times when he came to work with a black eye and the boys all crowded around him asking who they needed to go soak in revenge. If he knows he’s going to get in trouble or things ever get too bad at home, he knows that he’s more than welcome at The Lodge.
Not Yet
A Next to Normal Fanfic
Warnings: Implied drug use, mention of coma and hospitals, one curse word
The stars were hidden by clouds. I ran through the forest, lost until I found this house. I was a stranger here. I knew that I would likely be found and kicked out, but the fire was warm. It was safe. Safety was rare in a forest like this.
“Natalie.”
The trees outside screamed as the wind whooshed passed them. I could hear pine needles hitting the window and snuggled deeper within the blanket I held in front of me beside the fire. The blanket made me safe.
“Oh, fuck, not again...”
The house shook beneath and around me, yet the fireplace stayed still. It anchored me. I drank the hot chocolate, wondering why the mug didn’t have a handle.
“Natalie, I’m sorry, I have to take you back to my house.”
Rain poured, but I’m warm and dry. Relaxed, too. The amount of smoke filling the room was only mildly concerning, considering that I could still breathe normally. I was about to lay down for a nap, until-
“Natalie!”
Natalie slowly opened her eyes, feeling as though she was lifting weights by doing it.
“Oh, thank god, I didn’t think that you were going to wake up,” Henry breathed, his back straightening. He grabbed Natalie’s hand, blinking away tears. Natalie looked down at his hand, considering pulling her hand from his.
“Why didn’t you think I was going to wake up?” she rasped before coughing gently.
Henry looked down, his face still pale. “Natalie...you’ve been out for almost twenty-four hours. Shit, I was about to take you to the hospital.”
The brunette nodded, not able to fully comprehend the seriosity of the situation. “Henry...take me home.”
He looked up, his hazel eyes filling with tears. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice shaking.
Natalie sat up, forcing herself not to groan when she moved. “We aren’t together anymore,” she sighed, pulling her hand from his. “I appreciate your care, but if you actually want the best for me, then take me home.”
Henry looked at her, clearly full of words that he wanted to say, but he ended up just nodding. “Okay,” he agreed, standing up. “Okay.”
Newsies dancing with reader? Like what kind of dancing do they like and are they good at it and stuff <3
I’m not much of a dancer so these may or may not be accurate, but it’s how I imagine them!
Jack: He feels absolutely ridiculous when dancing by himself, but he finds it almost therapeutic to dance with you. He likes to lead in dances, spinning and dipping you (regardless of your gender). I can see him being really good at Latin dance, especially Kizomba, Bachata, and Merengue. (Definitely don’t image taking classes with him and him biting his lip in concentration when he’s trying to learn new moves. And definitely don’t think about practicing together after.)
Davey: Although Davey is a really good dancer, he 1) has never had any training and 2) lacks the confidence to dance in front of anyone. When he’s home alone (which is rare), or when everyone is asleep, he turns on the radio and just starts moving his body. One day he thinks that you’re asleep but doesn’t want to wake you up so he starts practicing without the music on. You wake up about halfway through and watch him laying down, simply awestruck. That is until he tries something requiring too much balance and falls. Then you snort a little bit. Boy is he embarrassed, but you quickly shower him in praise, talking about how exciting it is that he dances contemporary. He nods a little bit, cheeks still pink, but one day he asks if you’ll watch a routine he’s trying to make. Slowly but surely you are invited into his world of dance.
Crutchie: Just looking at Crutchie, one wouldn’t expect him to be a good dancer because of his crutch. He took ballet before he lost the use of his leg and was heartbroken at first. He couldn’t even think about it without crying. One day, when he was tossing and turning because he couldn’t sleep, he sat up with a sudden realization. “Why can’t I still dance?” he asked himself, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He spent the entire night trying to teach himself. And the next night. And the next. He never told anyone about it. Even when you two started dating, he kept it a secret. You found out because he performed in the school talent show. The crutch just seemed to be an extension of him. You sobbed your eyes out. Then, at prom, the two of you danced all night. Crutchie was beaming the entire time. “Ain’t it beautiful?” he kept asking, to which you always responded with a kiss.
Race: Is he human? Or is he dancer? Race got into dance when he was young because his foster parents wanted him out of the house so that he would stay out of trouble. For a very long time, it was the only reason he got up every morning. He does tap, ballet, and contemporary. Everyone at school knows this. When you start dating him, you’re excited about slow dancing with him to your favorite song at homecoming. You two hit the dance floor, and he keeps lifting you up and smiling at you, his eyes alight with love for you. (He would run into problems later because of his smoking, but I’m going to keep angst out of it.)
Albert: Albert has always been best at acrobatic-type activities. He scorned dance for a while, not understanding why people enjoyed moving across a floor in weird outfits. At least, until he discovered hip-hop and breakdancing. He admired the strength that it required. He started teaching himself and was soon addicted. He would teach his partner in a relationship if you were interested (but he totally understands if you’re not because he felt that way for a long time). Eventually, he would let Race teach him some moves from other styles of dance and found that he liked them.
Have you gotten more requests since that post?
Not so far! I’m working on one that was already in my inbox last night right now, but it’s still early!